#one that barely illuminates their features?

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 In the Ring

♡ featuring: boxer!wriothesley x manager!reader

♡ summary: its hard managing a boxer full time. maybe it's time you relieve that stress. wc: 6.8k+ (???>":>?)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of trauma, mentions of violence, rough sex, overstim, face-sitting, size kink, unintentional edging, hair pulling, mentions of choking, argument, confessed feelings, slow burn, kinda toxic?

notes: can u tell how down bad i am for wriothesley. also do yall like the smaller text cause I do. jing yuan fluff next :)) art by sxnalien on twitter! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

For a second, the crowd stills. Bright intense lamps illuminate the sweltering squared circle, buoyant under the nimble movement of the boxers. They trade blows, bobbing and throwing each devastating hook with an even deadlier counter. No one took a hit for the past minutes, and the audience scoots to the edge of their seats at the sheer stamina of the two. Both dripping sweat, barely holding on between the merciless clock and their steadfast opponent. You can almost hear the breeze of swift jabs cutting wind against their jaws. The one with blue gloves can barely manage to guard himself, with a swollen face and wobbly legs, while the crimson gloves deal relentless punches. The crowd shouts. Unintelligible echoes, some that pray for the win, others grieving the money they’re about to lose. He’s caught on the ropes, and attempts a wild swing to save himself, to save his career. Red gloves weaves effortlessly and delivers a brutal crush to his bloodied nose and possibly busted mouthpiece. The crack is resounding, it makes the commentators cringe. His skull flies back, and he comes crashing down from his dizzying tower. The head-first fall vibrates beneath the feet of investors in proximity. 

DING DING DING 

Mass uproar ensues. They jump out of their seats, flailing their arms, joy and pain in equilibrium. 

“And he is out! It’s all over!” the commentator yells. Confetti floats golden dust from the ceiling. The victor stalks the ropes before hopping on them, his gloves raised in the air. Glistening, high off elation, but somehow composed in his attitude, akin to a wolf. 

“A savage knockout from the untouchable world champion, the king of the ring, Wriooothesley!” 

“Wrio, Wrio, Wrio!” they chant. You’re standing near the ropes, already identifying which joints you’ll need to observe after his victory lap. It’s hectic, and you’re jotting down the state of his figure. Past experiences sew through each deep scar carving his rugged biceps and abs, the bruises display early signs of discoloration. He’s tall on the unseen throne, it feels like you’re there with him. A million eyes in that vast stadium, and yet, those midwinter eyes ebbed in silver only look at you.  

Your beginnings as a manager were tumultuous. You could barely comprehend how out of your league you were working for a renowned agency fresh out of college. Though you found quick success in your ability to grab the attention of investors through public relations, you weren’t equipped just yet with the hindsight in preparing for scandals. The other athletes you worked with served no problem, and so you never had to worry about their appeal. Higher ups praised your extensive portfolio, and at such a young age, it was even more commendable. You earned it, fame and respect, interviews and gossip—a delicate dance. You were always busy, assisting your clients throughout the day and maintaining their presence while they slept. It was hard work, but you loved doing it. 

That was until you worked with amateur boxer, Childe. 

A snappy, overconfident lightweight fighter with no regard for anything or anyone. He had an unmistakable void in his eyes, but you fought for him ceaselessly, to prove that he wasn’t the cold person he portrayed himself as. You bore with his flirtatious compliments and innuendos, the need to focus him whenever you documented his afflictions, and he’d not-so-subtly flex his biceps. Childe was unnecessarily violent with underhanded tactics. The media knew this and did everything to amplify that bellicose story. You’d combat it, negate it, but he only fed the flames with threats of retaliation. Taking his phone wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t get through to him. It was only a matter of time before he went off the deep end.  

The day you slept, you discovered a restlessness you’d endure indefinitely. The flickering glow of your device woke you at midnight as hundreds of notifications congested your screen. 128 missed calls from your agency, 50 from news sources, and none from Childe. When you processed the damage from his deplorable stunt, you nearly hurled your phone out the window. He posted revenge porn, and evidently turned off his phone. Surely, there’d be a way to fix this. The chances seemed to dissolve with each text turning green. You started pacing, battling with morality and loyalty and anger. What he did was disgusting, but it’s your job to save him, right? Is he worth saving? You spoke with 4 managers at once, switching through motives and bickering until morning. As you flipped through the television, another emotion struck you. 

There he was, on a tasteless gossip channel. An interview you didn’t arrange, with a man you’ve never seen before. And he was...crying? The sob story emitting from his deceitful lips was almost impressive. Childe went on about how “demanding and horrible” you were backstage. The crocodile tears dried up through dodgy anecdotes, but it was enough to have people hooked. You were allegedly physically and emotionally abusive. He was too scared to speak up due to your position and he just couldn’t bear it any longer. Then he dropped the bomb; he blamed you for his post. You forced him to do it, jealous of his previous partners, emphasizing how enamored you were of him. The questionable tears began to fall again, but this time he covered his mouth, withholding the duping smile crawling on his face.  

You were filled with blinding rage, unable to control the fury at which your remote connected with the screen. It was everywhere now, social media websites booming with live opinions. He had no reason to slander you, and you couldn’t pinpoint why he chose to hurt you like this. You cried for him, shared stories of childhood and family. The knife you used to protect him was firm in your back, twisting and digging with each disgusting message in your inbox. You had no game plan to conduct, and no tears left to cry.  

Within a week, you finally understood how cruel this industry could be. Within a week, you were no longer on top. You lost clients fast. It spread like wildfire and not a single outlet spared an ear for your side. People you called friends, coworkers, hadn’t replied to your messages. When you got back to work, the rooms were silent as you passed. You could feel their judgement, whispers rattled with rumors and accusations. They waited for the tiniest slip-up and pounced like hyenas—you were eaten alive by their pitiful stares. You attempted to tell your truth multiple times throughout the week, but it was consistently rejected. The headlines were eye-catching: 

“Manager From Hell: Childe Tells All!” 

“He Cries: A Story of Love and Jealousy” 

Your stomach churned to the magazines being shown. Despite the great amount of loss you suffered, you were thankful for the one person that believed you, your boss. 

“Childe is a lying little snake. The media knows that, too.” 

“Then why is this happening?” 

“Money. That story is making bank right now. But I know for a fact you wouldn’t do this” he reassured.  

“Thank you, sir. But...I lost everything; I just don’t know what to do.” The weariness was heavy in your voice. 

“I have someone you can manage. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.” You were unsure of yourself now, and he continued.  

“You’re one of my best. If you want to climb out of this, now’s your chance.” Yes, you were unsure, drowning in doubt. But if the only way to get above water was to keep swimming, you wouldn’t give up so easily. 

Wriothesley wasn’t exactly known for his kindness. Crude, cocky, maybe even spoiled were descriptions that circulated in the tabloids. He had a knack for pissing reporters off by not answering questions or humming over their voice with a shit-eating grin on his face. Women loved him, however, throwing bras and phone numbers written on scrap as the condemned “bad boy” departed post-game. They screamed his name at once, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. He relished infamy—that way, it was much harder to pry into his private life. 

It had to be a coincidence that it was someone you fangirled over. In college, your eyes were glued to the screen every Sunday, waiting for Wriothesely’s post-conference and behind the scenes interviews. He didn’t speak often, but just the sight of those inky strands streaked with ash made your heart flutter featherlight in your chest. 

When you first approached him, he was just as arrogant as you’d expect. 

“Good evening!” you beamed. You caught him outside the gym, and he still had his headphones in. Full volume and blankly staring as you went on about the opportunity, silent under the blaring music. He took one earbud out when you finished. 

“Hm? Who’re you?” 

You were slightly annoyed. “Let me reintroduce myself, I’m (Y/N). Your new manager.” 

“No. Bye.” He began to walk past you without an ounce of care. You couldn’t lose it like this. 

“Ah, wait!” He turned half-heartedly. 

“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to be bossed around. But honestly, your reputation is shit. That can’t be good for business.” you persuaded. He towered over you, the figure of a Greek giant peeked through the compression top as he lazily watched you. 

“So? Why do you care?” he remarked. 

“I’ll help you. Sponsors, advertisements, whatever you want. You’re good, but you can be so much better. Let’s make money together.” You held your hand out, awaiting a handshake of approval. He merely glanced at your limp wrist. 

“Help? You’re obviously not doing this for free.” 

“Of course not. Give a little, take a little. I don’t do charity cases” you shrugged.  

He groaned, raking his fingers through his thick mane. At the very least, he hadn’t walked away yet. “I'd prefer for my life to be private.” 

“Then I’ll guarantee your privacy.” 

“Really?” he scoffed. “What can you give me besides empty promises?” 

“Anything you desire. Work with me, and I’ll make it happen.” That offer enticed him. No one had been this persistent with him yet, he scared off any manager that dared succor him. It was slightly entertaining, the way you burned ambition in your eyes, you were so easy to read. Most people wouldn’t look directly at him, and here you were, ready to follow him home if that’s what it took. He chuckled, and his massive hand reached for yours. 

You shook hands, and your fates were sealed.  

That was a year ago, and ever since then he’s been a thorn in your side. Nonstop drama and rectifying consumed your life. You didn’t think a man who spoke so little in public could talk so much around you. Whenever you argue—which is a frequent occurrence—his smirk grew wider at your frustration. You weren’t sure why you ever liked him in the first place. He only puts in effort when it comes to sparring, but you’re determined to ameliorate his standing, and in turn, yours.  

The minute you open the doors to the hall, the sound of pummeled sandbags, clanking metal, and sneakers skidding across the floor roars in your ears. Some men are dialed in on abusing the inanimate objects, the rest tense through repetitions of dumbbell curls with a hiss. You're in quick strides, the phone arm's length away from you as the sponsor on the other end screams. Another petty drama surrounding Wriothesley grabs the attention of the internet. Luckily, you have thorough experience remedying this. 

“What are you going to do? You’re fucking with my money!” you hear the faint voice. You bring the phone back to your ear. 

“Don’t I always deal with it? He fights, I make up for the other half. Give me a few hours.” 

“I’m not going to wa-” You hang up at the response. 

You propel the double doors free into a large room with a boxing ring in the center. A group of trainers swarm the perimeter, you can barely see through.  

“Don’t be scared!” one of them taunt towards the sparring partner, who has an unthinkable panic creeping in goosebumps dotting his skin. Each sloppy dodge tilts him more and more off balance against the strikes. Wriothesley has a powerful stature, with his back curving in a way that accentuates the rough muscle shaping his spine. You drone an annoyed sigh at the commotion and push yourself through them.  

“Move it, move!” you yell, before jostling your way to the front of the ring. 

“Wriothesley! Times up.”  He turns his head to the side, unintentionally sparing his partner and glares at you. 

“Two minutes.” 

“No. Now.” you command. He looks up at nothing, as if considering his options if he cusses you out. Then he begrudgingly drops the gloves and pulls himself under the ropes. The group disperses from the lack of action and he’s mere inches from you now. Sometimes you forget how to breathe in his half-naked presence.  

“What the fuck is your problem?” He mumbles while drying his head with a towel. His colossal forearms are raised over his head, highlighting the happy trail thick down his abdomen and tufts of hair on his armpits.  

“You. How many times do I have to tell you not to train during recovery?” you seethe. 

“Damn. Must’ve slipped my mind.” He doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest. 

“Well then, I’ll be sure to remind you hourly.” 

“Nah, I’m good. Hearing you once a day is enough.” He tosses the towel to you like his dutiful servant and grabs his water bottle. The liquid drips down his chin and on his shorts, hanging below his v-line. 

Your eyebrow twitches from withheld vexation. “If you don’t want to hear me twice, I suggest you do what I tell you. We need to talk.” A heavy sigh leaves him as he stretches, and he passes you the water bottle. If you had the strength to collapse the bottle with one hand, you would. “Lead the way” he goads. 

Wriothesley follows you through the backdoor of the gym to a secluded alleyway. When you get there, he immediately pulls out a cigarette you didn’t know he had. You were aware he smokes occasionally, but seeing it physically coaxed a strange worry in your gut. You twist your phone to him, to display evidence of him instigating an argument with Childe on social media. He reads in silence, briefly laughing at the recollection of his own comebacks, then lights the cigarette. 

“What’s this? Didn’t I say keep a low profile?” you reprimand. 

He drags in a deep breath of nicotine, and you eye the foul scent with distaste. He blows it above your unhappy face. “Calm down. Once a month thing. That fucker's testing me.” 

“This can’t happen again, Wriothesley.” He ignores you to continue his mumbling. “I should break his neck like a twig. He’s lucky he didn’t say that shit to my face, fucking punk.” he grouses. You're struggling to gather your thoughts, the cigarette compacted between his thick fingers irritates you. 

“We all appreciate your restraint, however-” you get closer, and yank the stick out his hand. 

 “No-!” Before he can finish, you promptly smudge it underneath your shoe. You aren’t sure how he’d react, but you didn’t expect him to sulk like a puppy. 

“You aren’t doing this shit while I’m here.” 

“Oh my god” he pouts, throwing his hands into his face and pulling them down.  

“You’re lucky I don’t report it to the doctor. None of this, ever again.” 

“Fuck, alright just...” he lets out a defeated sigh. “What do you want me to do about it? Apologize publicly?” You need him to do nothing; neither agency wants controversy, and it’d most likely be swept under the rug in just a couple days. You point his water bottle to him. 

“Nope, I’ll handle it. Just sit there and be pretty.” you reassure. He leans down to your height with a sweet smile and even sweeter gaze. 

“I do that well, don’t I?” he quips. 

“You manage.” He latches onto the water bottle, and drinks from it in your hand while looking at you. A soft heat envelops you beyond words that never reach your lips. 

“Listen to what I’m saying. Low. Profile.” Wriothesley comes up from thirst, dragging his tongue along the straw to the top, and licks his blushed lips. He delights in your flustered reaction. 

“Low. Profile.” he repeats in a sarcastic drawl. 

Later in the week, you receive a call in your office. It was fairly busy today, with coworkers constantly “checking in”, more so to see Wriothesley sitting across from you. He had no reason to be here, and you were surprised at his arrival. Be it boredom or a certain longing, a dull swell pulsed in his chest once he saw your overworked smile. 

“Hello, this is (Y/N) of Boxe Association. May I know who I’m speaking with?” Wriothesley’s ears perk up at your sudden professionalism, and he mimics your cadence. 

“Good afternoon, it’s Isadora.” Isadora was an event coordinator you previously worked with before your controversy. You understood that she stopped communicating to protect her business, but the pain lingered. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers, and meet eyes with Wriothesley, who’s laid back in the chair, his arms behind his head. 

“Oh. Hey, it’s been a while.” you say. You turn your swivel chair away from him to continue the conversation. His eyebrow twitches slightly with an unconscious scowl, and he walks towards your chair. 

“It has. I’m calling because I have a proposition that might interest you. I believe a meet and greet would be appropriate for your client. A large chunk of his fanbase are young adult women, however, he’s also popular with children.” He spins the chair around with a firm hand and presses his cheek against the phone. 

“That’s true.” You side eye him, and without skipping a beat, mush his nosey face away. His hot breath on your digits makes your skin tingle. 

“Who is that” he mumbles. You'd never seen Wriothesley interact with children, and you have every reason to be hesitant. 

“Hmm...any positive activity with children is good publicity. I’ll consider it. I’ll let you know by tonight.” The second you hang up, you release his face. 

“Why are you being annoying-” 

“Who were you talking to” he chides.  

“Isadora. She’s an event coordinator.” His clenched jaw unwinds. “She wants to do a meet and greet with you and a few kids. If we go through with this, I’ll have a camera crew and some reporters there. It’ll be good for your image.” 

“Okay.” he agrees. That was quick.  

“...Are you sure? Kids are loud and obnoxious a lot of the time.” 

“So? Fine by me. I can teach them how to fight.” Your skin crawls at the thought of Wriothesley launching a child through a wall. “That won’t be necessary.” 

“It’ll be fun.” The more he assures you, the more uneasy you feel. 

“Wriothesley, I’m serious. Don’t screw this up” you plead. He holds his pinky out. “I won't.” His loose interpretation of promises was dubious at best, but you had no other options, and this might be your only opening. You curl to his word. 

After parleying the finer details, you broadcast a raffle for young fans to meet Wriothesley. The traffic to the website was overwhelming, and you quickly began sorting out tickets for the favored winners. 

 Fortunately, the next couple of weeks were par for the course. 

It’s the night before the event, and you’re getting ready for bed. You sit at your desk in a big T-shirt and do your daily review of personal data. As you're scrolling through and identifying what needs improvement, you get a notification on your phone. 

“Breaking News: Boxer Bar Fight!” Curious, you open the tab to a video. It makes your breath stall, sweating frantically. You can’t think clearly, and your shaky hands can barely increase the volume. Unidentifiable noises and wobbly camerawork made it impossible to catch anything besides those familiar inky black strands, throwing punches in a drunken stupor at a defenseless man. Your previous conundrum flashes through your memory in a horrific stop-motion; the duping smile on his face. 

No. It’s happening all over again. Why is he at a bar? You messaged him before he went to bed. He never goes to bars. Why now, the night before the event? It’s late, he doesn’t go anywhere without telling you. 

He promised. 

None of it made sense as you threw on any sweatpants in your drawer and ran out the door. You can’t wait until morning. Disaster punctures and tears any rational decision you contemplate. Shouting silently within your mind, a crashing rage—or sadness—boils in your nervous stomach. You’re tunnel vision in a taxi on the way to his address. 

When you get there, you bang on the door with a fury that vibrates throughout the archway. His home is extravagant, with two cars and an expansive driveway. You bang again. 

“Wriothesley!” He finally opens the door. He’s still half asleep, pajama pants low on his waist, groggily leaning against the arch.  

“(Y/N)? Uh, what’s up?” He slurs in a deep slumbering voice through heavy eyelids. You barge in without saying anything. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” 

The interior is just as opulent as the exterior, it almost looks untouched. Every corner has a case or shelf stacked with ornate trophies and medals of excellence. It was the home of someone who achieved peak perfection and reveled in it. He follows you to his living room, bewildered at your furious expression. You play the video in front of him, and he watches with that same puzzled attitude that makes you angrier. You try taking deep breaths to compose yourself, but they halt shallowly. 

“What the fuck is this?” you accuse. 

“What? I don’t know.”  “Like hell you don’t know, this shit is on every homepage. Are you serious?”  

The cranky boxer pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. You show up at his house, and it’s to badger him about a rumor. Your temperament only heats the smoldering ember fueled by incessant claims. He covers his mouth, physically stopping the involuntary response. 

“Okay” he says, and blurts a facetious chuckle. Your heart thumps in your chest and ears.  

“Oh, It’s a fucking joke? I bust my ass to save your career and you’re laughing?” you snap, voice increasing in volume until it reaches a broken peak. He returns with the same energy. 

“When did I ask you to fix anything? Did you ever think that maybe I don’t fucking need you-” 

“You can barely control your smoking habits you pompous ass-” 

“I would if you didn’t nag me all the time. Whining and complaining, it’s fucking annoying!” he yells. Neither of you meant the words spilling out the bubbling surface, but your tongues were solely seasoned with the next spiteful jab. 

“Yes, whining! Because all you need to do is be on the straight and narrow, but you take nothing seriously, Wriothesley, and that’s exactly why-” 

“Exactly why what? Why your career went to shit so you’re piggybacking off mine?”  

Your battle stops. You can’t find the words to rebuttal. All the opinions of your colleagues, the media, Wriothesley, and yourself coagulate into a lump that fills the tightening throat. Pride comforts tears brimming your eyes. 

He pauses, as though he came to reality. An apology attempts to form on his lips, but it never manifests. “(Y/N), I didn’t-” 

“See you in the morning” you choked. You walk to the door, and he reaches out to the infinite space thick between you two.  

You didn’t sleep the entire night. It’s morning, and you’re exhausted. You consistently replayed the quarrel in your head through the taxi ride home, and when you strived for rest, it plagued your mind. Your coffee is untouched during your morning routine, a movement comparable to zombies. You don’t bother to confirm if Wriothesely is at the building—either way you owe it to the event holders to be there. 

You arrive just before the children file into the training room. Thankfully, Wriothesley is there in the center. Live cameras from reporters and parents border the walls; if something were to occur, it would be irreversible. Your head suddenly hurts. 

Perhaps playing it up for his reputation, the smile stretched across his face is a sunny warmth you’ve never seen from him. He waves to them, and they erupt with screams. To your astonishment, he gets on his knees to be eye level with them. They all jump into his arms at once, and he topples over onto the mat.  

And he’s laughing. This grumpy asshole fighter is laughing. A hearty, genuine laugh as he wraps his sturdy arms around all of them and picks them up at once. He whirls them around and they orchestrate high-pitched giggles. “Ready to have some fun?” he chortles. They say yes to varying degrees of excitement, and the meet and greet proceeds. 

You can’t help but smile when he frolics with the kids. They chase him with boxing gloves, he pretends to fall dramatically. Dogpiling him, he lets out a shrill scream of defeat. He manages to work in proper defense techniques while they jump him like a test dummy. He tosses each kid in the air whenever they ask, and never tells them no. You receive another call from Isadora amid your admiration, and you step outside. 

“Hey! Good news, these views are off the charts and the internet is really in his favor right now” she congratulates.  

“That’s great...what about the video from last night? Did you see it?” you ask. 

“Video...oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s confirmed fake.” What? Oh no. Immediate regret stirs in your blood, and you force the phone away to catch your breath. You feel utterly stupid. 

“Hello?” You quickly bring the phone back to your ear. “Yea, sorry. I have to go; I’ll call you later.” you insist. You can’t facepalm any harder. You make your way back to the training room, where the kids decorate his gloves with iridescent stickers. Wriothesley occasionally looks at you, but you can’t bear to show your guilty face. 

When the event is over, you both make sure to hug every child on the way out and thank the parent for coming. You’re sorting through mountains of requests people made to see Wriothesley again, and you mute your phone over the influx of emails. Peeking at the broadcast, under the footage in bold letters:  

“(Y/N) Back from the Dead?”  

It wasn’t the most flattering title, but it proved that public perception was salvageable. You emit a sigh of relief, for you and Wriothesley. As you’re packing your things to exit, he blocks the door with his body. 

“Can we talk?” You were dreading this discussion, but agreed, nonetheless. The ride to his home is silent, you grapple with a proper apology. 

You lean against the kitchen bar, while he’s laxing on the couch. Sleep deprivation torments you, causes you to wander as you fill in papers from sponsors. You can’t see the way Wriothesley steals glances at your slack figure curving to the marble. He eventually spoke.  

“So, um.” 

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. You did a good job today Wriothesley, you should be proud.” You flash a meek smile. He fumbles with his thumbs uncomfortably. 

“I am. Aren’t I the best?” he boasts. 

“You are” you say. The lack of sleep beckons you to a spur of honesty as you scribble. “You have stunning form, perfect accuracy, and immeasurable talent. Not just anyone can do that.” you return. He gazes at you, that dull swell pumping in his veins again. The cozy radiance of lights brightens your tired eyes. 

“You’re a big fan, huh?” he chuckles.  

“Of course, I used to watch you in college. I had a major crush on you” you snort. “Everything you are is amazing, but you know this. So cut it out.” He sits on the armrest, swallowing your confessions. The room is entirely too hot, he needs alleviation—he needs you. 

“Sorry. For what I said.” 

“Forget it. It's my fault, I was careless. I apologize.” you admit. 

“You know I didn’t do it, right?” 

“I know.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“I know.” you reassure.  

“What if some other bullshit controversy comes out. Then what?” You stop writing to give him your full attention. 

“Then, I’ll trust you. We’ve gotten this far. Even if no one else does, even if for some reason I lose my job and I’m not your manager anymore, I’ll trust you, Wriothesley.” you reveal. He doesn’t move. Wriothesley knew he wasn’t deserving of trust, and he’d made a plethora of mistakes throughout your arrangement. You had every right to leave him long ago. Nobody gave him the time of day or cared for his wellbeing like you did, but he couldn’t reciprocate. Even so, here he kneels, at the feet of an angel that shows him undying mercy. 

Wriothesley stalks at you, but you remain. He looms over you, pinning you to the counter with both arms, inches from your face. It isn’t a threatening force, but one that begs for confirmation. That slated storm searches for a specific craving, you feel his chest rising and falling laden with yours. 

“You’re too close” you quiver. The bitter musk and vanilla enveloping your senses makes you foggy, it lingers through the whole house. 

“Tell me to leave.” His mouth slants to you, and he waits expectingly. You ogle his features, the scratches of a warrior celebrated across his hardy torso. His hair brushes against your forehead, imperfect and uniquely beautiful. Why were you mad, again?

“Tell me to back off, (Y/N)” he pleads. The pads of your fingers lightly caress his ear, then his jaw. 

“Please” he whispers. Your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and he succumbs to the urge. 

You collide fervently, lips coated in definitive desire. Dancing with rough, bruising kisses that don’t make space for air. It smears on your face, dips down your neck and swiftly returns to your lonely mouth. The pressure of the counter bar burns across your lower back from his weight, but those mind-numbing kisses soften any injury. You bite his lip when he pulls away, and he groans. Suddenly, he lifts you effortlessly with his hands on your ass, and you clash teeth and tongue in a passionate challenge. He demands entry, and you moan into the wet mass intertwining through sloppy kisses. It explores your mouth, sending throbs to your nerves and subdues any control you have left. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, but you yearn for deeper contact. He licks up the organ, and spots moist, hungry kisses on your jaw. You both take a fleeting breath before converging again. You find passage in his hair and suck staining rose-colored marks on his neck while he carries you to the bedroom. 

“You’ve been waiting for this, hm? Slutty groupie” Wriothesley moans. You drag kisses along the shell of his ear. He tosses you onto the fluffy bedding and haphazardly strips to his underwear. The wide mirror opposite his bed gives you a glimpse of his thighs and shapely bottom hugging the briefs. You’re supposed to be undressing, but that thronging bulge made for a titan makes you nervous for what’s to come. He palms the erection to soothe the ache and climbs over you. He’s somewhat gentle, careful with the bulk of his body as he cradles your face for more kisses. The way he looks at you, a covet softness or misted lust tantalizing the wetness pooling in your panties. He moves to your neck, French kissing down your throat and on your collarbone. You feel like a virgin again, heart racing from every graze of his fingers and lips. His calloused digits grope the plush fat of your thighs, and gradually reach the hem of your skirt. You snake your hands over his pecs and abs and read the muscles. Moaning into each other's mouths, indulging every part of your bodies as you’ve wanted to do for months. He pulls your skirt off and you hold your button-down over your exposed panties. Heat spreads in your body, and he amuses at your sudden bashfulness. 

“Oh…you’re shy?” he teases, before popping the buttons off with a brutal rip. “Wrio!” you yelp. That’s the first time you called Wriothesley a nickname; he must’ve died and went to heaven. The lace gift wrapped around your breasts taunts him, and he buries his face immediately. He nips the sensitive skin and snaps the clasp off. “Cute. Need to feel you” he husks. He twirls the bud in his mouth, while manipulating the other between his girthy fingers. Alternating among loving hickies and harsh tugs of his teeth on your nipple. You whine, and his laugh tickles your raw skin. He flips over on his back and steadies you on top of him. Discards the rest of your top, and let’s out a shaky groan.  

“You’ve never been this speechless” he says. You smile and kiss his puffy lips, your hands kneading his chest. “You’re so pretty” you coo. He huffs while rubbing circles on your waist, eyeing your inner thighs covered in juices.  

“Then come fuck my pretty face.” He slips under the waistband and tweaks the fabric, but you grip his wrists. “Wait! Let me shower first- “ 

“You said you'd give me anything I desire, remember that? Keep your promise." He yanks the thin material down your legs in your weak clutches, trailing a string of drool that sticks to your labia. “C’mere” he grunts and lifts you towards his face. Your thighs are soft on either side of him, and you still in his grasp. He lolls his tongue out, but you’re reluctant to fully sit. “I’m heavy” you murmur.  

“Shut up.” He embraces your body, and you have no choice but to settle in his warmth. He keeps you flush with his flat tongue, swiping up and down the squishy flesh molding to his mouth. You writhe in his grasp, but he continues to lap at your clit with a starving lust. Wriothesely soaks in your velvet skin and perfumed essence dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t come up for air, and your brain is mush over him, his lips slurping your quivering cunt. A buzzing intensity courses through your twitching stomach. You rut your hips against his mouth, and he maintains his position while you use him. You’re grinding on his tongue, absent-mindedly biting your lips and mewling endlessly as you bring yourself closer to climax. He hums while sucking the nub and the vibrations make you cry out.  

“Wrio, ‘m coming” you whine. You hump his mouth until you come undone in a pulsating finish. His hands restrain you, greedily devouring the newly found honey as it pours out. You ride it through while he curls the tip of his tongue at your opening. Without warning, you feel the pink muscle push in your recovering vulva. “S-Shit, Wrio” you whimper, trembling on him as he drives inside. He seizes the back of your thighs and begins to bounce you up and down the mushy appendage slowly stretching you. The sensation is overwhelming, his nose skims your oversensitive clit each time you drop, and you sob. Wriothesley moves faster, your hands entangle in his hair. You babble please’s repeatedly, gazing sensually at each other as the coil winds in your gut. More, more. Then it snaps, an abrupt shock, clenching on his tongue as you cream. He raises your lower half; the wetness collecting in your convulsing heat makes his cock strain more than it already suffered.  

“Such a cute slut” Wriothesley husks. Your numb legs can’t navigate on their own, so he places you on your stomach. “We’re not done.” He springs his throbbing length free. The veins are consistent, prominent up his shaft to the angry red crown—9 inches begging to be inside you. Fresh precome trickles down his tip and he sighs at the bloated pain in his hefty balls. You arch your back, presenting yourself to his awaiting size. When he doesn’t enter you turn to him impatiently and he smirks. 

“Put it in” you whine. Wriothesley spreads your backside, and watches you clench around the ghost of him. He glazes himself with your slick, and moans from the feeling of your puffy lips cuddling his cock. “It’s not every day a fan gets to sleep with me. Be grateful.” he teases. He pumps through your squashed thighs, the head prodding your nub while he forces your chest flush with the bed. After he thoroughly coats himself, he nudges the bulbous tip to your entrance. 

Wriothesley sinks into your sex. You’re gripping him like a vice despite the searing soreness of your body accommodating the scale. The fevered sleeve nearly makes him crash to the hilt, but he stutters gradually to relieve your discomfort. He hits the base and shudders. You feel unbelievably stuffed, as if it’s squirming in your cervix. Then he starts at a savage pace. He’s using you like a flesh-light, balls smacking your overwhelmed tender nub with a carnal impulse. His moans spill uncontrollably as he watches your rippling ass and viscous webs blend together, clinging to his cock and forming a cloudy froth at the base. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets; you can’t think or feel anything that isn’t him, core surging with intense want. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna snap my dick off. Ah- gonna make sure you can’t walk t-tomorrow. Then- hah- then you won’t be able to find anyone who fucks you like this, who makes you come like this.” He’s rambling and stuttering, completely incoherent the closer he gets. He glances at the mirror, then at you. You feel your hair jerked back by his massive hand, and lock eyes with Wriothesley in his drunken haze. “Stop, it’s embarrassing!” you slur. You’re both sheened with sweat, disheveled bodies satiating the hunger in any way you can. 

“Shh, you hear that?” The squelching slam of passion echoes in the room, sopping down your leg through his pummeling thrusts. Your back bends unnaturally as though it were folded in half. “You’re so fucking hot, so needy for me.” His veins adorn your walls, you start to tear up from the mixture of pleasure and pain. He notices your tears and holds you up so that your back is flush with his chest. 

“It hurts?” he questions, stalling his movement. You feel him twitch. “No, feels s’good Wrio. More” you mewl. He chuckles, and gently wraps his hand around your throat before pumping again.  

“Too good? Am I the best you’ve ever had? Say it.” He moves faster, free hand rubbing your clit. Your knees buckle and eyes roll back to your skull, he takes in the scene of your convulsing figure in the mirror. “S’best I’ve ever had, please ‘m so close!” you rasp, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He chases his high, panting animalistically in your ear.  

“Shit- look how desperate you are. Want me to come inside? Y-yea, I bet you fucking do”

“‘M coming!” you babble.

“Good. Make a mess.” he commands. Fire trails up your limbs, and you tighten before falling apart. Fluttering around him, taking him deeper while you come on his sack. Wriothesley pursues his sputtering hips, spurting thick globs that paint you white. He whimpers as you milk his spasming length dry and presses tired kisses along your shoulder blade. When he comes down from his apex, he turns you over on your back. It’s hard for him to not be proud of your boneless existence sprawled on his bed. You’re both breathing hard in silence, and he leaves for a couple minutes. You’re stunned when he returns with a damp rag to clean you up, and some dark substance in a mug.

You find the strength to sit up while he wipes your lower areas. “Where are my clothes?”

“...For what?”  he mumbles.

“To leave?” It seemed like common sense to you—boxers usually don’t go for long-term relationships, and so you assumed it to be a one-night stand. You dip over the edge of the bed and locate your skirt, but Wriothesely hops up and snatches it before you can. “I’ll put it in the wash. Relax.” 

“I didn’t know you were so hospitable. Do you do this for every girl?” you tease. He gets visibly upset, and shoves the cup from the dresser in your hands. “Don’t piss me off. Now, drink. I’ll order food.” 

Multicolored sunset flaking through the sheer curtains frames his stature while he’s on the phone. You sip the tea, it’s a vile grainy taste. For a moment you imagine what life could be like with him by your side—poor quality tea and an awful temper. In your pleasant aftermath, it doesn’t seem bad at all.

#genshin smut #genshin au #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley #fontaine #genshin x reader #genshin impact

[ohproserpine]

vi. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder, heated scene (making out)

˚୨୧₊♱

You never really liked cars.

The first time you had ridden in one was in the 1930s.

It was after one of your shifts, the wet streets illuminated only by the flickering glow of the rusting lampposts. There you stood, still in your glad rags and wrapped in a coat, the misty drizzle kissing your face. Alastor arrived a few minutes later with a honk of his horn, surprising you with a ride home in his latest purchase—a stunning red car with a sleek roof that gleamed in the dim light, its long, sweeping fenders and rounded body cutting a striking figure against the darkness of the night.

As you got into the car, excitement tingled in your veins, eager to experience the wonders of modern transportation. However, the thrill quickly turned to fear as the speeds increased, and your husband, the ass he was, seemed to enjoy nothing more than pushing the accelerator and hearing your horrified screams. Each time the car accelerated, you found yourself clinging onto him for dear life, the rush of wind slamming against your flushed face, your heart racing in your chest.

Since then, you swore never to get into a car again, preferring the safety of solid ground beneath your feet, the memory of that terrifying ride haunting your thoughts whenever you heard the roar of an engine.

Now, standing outside and shivering in the cold, you watched as a long royal blue limo pulled up before you. The sleek vehicle gleamed under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the surrounding city. The doors, adorned with gold accents, were automated and opened up for you, revealing a plush interior illuminated by soft, warm lighting. Small steps extended gracefully from below, inviting you to step inside.

Velvette wasted no time and went in first, her stiletto heels clicking against the polished floor as she settled into one of the luxurious seats. Already engrossed in a phone call, her voice echoed faintly through the open doorway, mingling with the low hum of the engine.

Meanwhile, Vox stood by your side, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the pavement. You knew he was making sure you wouldn't attempt to escape, although the thought barely crossed your mind.

After all, where could you possibly run to now? Any endeavor in that direction would likely prove futile and possibly even fatal. The evidence of your soul being sold was clear, evident in the now black color of your sclera.

"Well," Vox drawled, his voice carrying a subtle edge of impatience as he gestured towards the open limousine door. "Aren't you going to go in?"

You hesitated, biting your lip as you reluctantly took a step back. Vox eyed your actions warily.

"Is it safe?" you found yourself blurting out, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Is it safe?" Vox repeated with a scoff, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Of course it's safe! I made it!"

He pointed to the VoxTek logo on the car—as though he were a seasoned salesman promoting a product. The metal emblem gleamed under the faint streetlights. Yet, rather than assuring you, the sight of the branding only heightened your unease.

Vox noticed the lack of change in your expression and sighed, deciding to take a different approach. With a faint glimmer of empathy, he motioned toward a nearby building which had a large billboard featuring his face and image.

"See there?" he gestured, his tone adopting a persuasive edge. "See what that billboard says? VoxTek is a symbol of power and security. You're in the safest hands possible. This limousine is equipped with state-of-the-art safety features."

His attempt to reassure you only rang hollow in your ears, and despite his words, a sense of unease continued to gnaw at you. Yet, Vox still persisted, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you. You had to crane your head up to look at him while he stared down at you, his figure casting a shadow over your form.

"I assure you," he pressed, his tone gentler now. "You have nothing to fear."

With no other choice but to comply, you reluctantly stepped forward, your movements stiff and hesitant. Vox held your hand as he guided you towards the waiting limousine. As you entered the luxurious interior, the door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing your fate as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night.

Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of color as the limousine sped through the streets. With each passing moment, the distance between you and Mimzy's torn-down lounge grew.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when the limousine finally came to a stop, the sudden silence jolting you back to reality. As the door opened with a soft hiss, you gazed out to behold the imposing V Tower looming before you.

Its grandeur was undeniable, with its towering floors and striking red windows gleaming in the night. At the very top, a massive antenna sat, reaching towards the sky like a beacon, while a studio sign was plastered along the building's front, featuring red lips nestled within the arches of the middle V, an iconic symbol of the entertainment empire housed within.

Vox and Velvette emerged from the limousine, their presence causing a few loiterers on the street to scurry away in fear.

Oh, how you wished you could do the same.

Inside the car, you hesitated, nerves coiling in your stomach as you fidgeted with your hands. Then, unexpectedly, Vox turned to you, his expression unreadable as he extended his hand.

Surprised, you paused for a moment before accepting his hand, allowing him to guide you down the steps. The chilly night air enveloped you as your feet touched the pavement, the distant sound of the limo's engine fading away as it drove off.

Seconds passed, and Vox still maintained his grip on your hand, his hold firm. Confusion flickered in your mind as you turned to him, noticing the irritation in his gaze as he eyed your wedding ring.

"Is there a problem, mister?" you asked as you followed his gaze to your ring.

Vox's expression remained inscrutable for a moment before he finally responded, his tone cool and detached.

"I suggest you ditch that," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's a liability now. Doesn't do any favors for your image, doll."

"But I'm awfully attached. It's…" you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find a good enough excuse.

You knew all too well the consequences of revealing your connection, especially in your current vulnerable state. The mere mention of Alastor's name could unravel everything, plunging you deeper into this mess. With two powerful overlords and a soul contract hanging over your head like a guillotine, caution was not just a choice but a necessity.

"It's a symbol of your past life," Vox interjected, his voice cutting through your hesitation.

"And we're leaving that behind now." He extended his hand, the glint of his metal claws catching the dim light, mirroring the uncertainty in your expression. "Hand it over."

With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly slipped the ring off your finger, a pang of loss gripping your heart as you handed it to the overlord. Vox accepted it with a dismissive nod before tucking it into his pocket, his attention already turning back to the looming entrance of the V Tower.

As you entered the building flanked by both Vox and Velvette, you were immediately struck by the brash, modern atmosphere that engulfed you. The walls were painted in bold hues of pink and red, illuminated by the glare of oversized LED screens that flashed with images and advertisements for upcoming events. The floor beneath your feet was polished to a sterile sheen, reflecting the harsh neon lights that bathed the space.

Velvette, with her usual air of haughty superiority, led the way to your room, her steps brisk and impatient. She barely spared you a glance as she gestured towards the metal door that stood before you, its surface cold and unwelcoming.

With a swish of her fingers, she conjured an obtrusively bright star decoration on the wall, reminiscent of celebrity door decorations found in Hollywood, with your name scrawled in cursive on its surface.

"Right, if there's anything you need, you just go down to the lobby and find someone named Shalom," Velvette barked, her tone sharp and impatient, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.

"Say, is there a chance I could lay my mitts on a radio?" you asked, hoping to grasp onto some semblance of familiarity in this alien environment, your eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them.

But instead of a response, Vox began to buffer, his screen flashing with bright neon glitches, while Velvette's lips curled into a sneer, her expression one of thinly veiled contempt and amusement at your request.

"Guess I'll take that as a no then?" you smiled tensely, your attempt falling flat.

To your surprise, Vox shook his head, and his screen flashed back to his face, the glitches disappearing as quickly as they had come.

The TV demon reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek smartphone. Without a word, he plopped it into your hand, and you turned it over, confusion evident on your face.

"A phone?" you said, flabbergasted, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. You blinked in astonishment, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. You were more surprised by the fact that it came from his pocket. Does he keep random smartphones on him at all times?

"Yes, a phone," Vox confirmed with a smirk, a hint of pride dancing in his eyes. "Consider it a courtesy from VoxTek. No need for a radio when we have such sleek products. This is the future! You don't need old shit from the past. Those radios barely pick up anything worth listening to, just crappy, barely audible broadcasts."

"Oh," you said, the air deflating from your lungs as a pang of disappointment settled in your chest. The phone was a thoughtful gesture, but it wasn't going to fix your longing to speak to Alastor. "Well. I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't mention it," Vox replied casually, his demeanor shifting back to its usual aloofness, his tone devoid of any genuine warmth or concern.

With a resigned sigh, you turned and stepped into your new room. You looked around the décor curiously, taking in the sleek modern furniture and it's peculiar design.

Velvette followed closely behind you, her eyes, framed with smoky eyeshadow, narrowing as she regarded you with disgust. The glint of her perfectly manicured nails caught the harsh overhead lights as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Really? A hooverette dress?" Velvette sneered, each syllable dripping with disdain. "You're like a relic from the '40s. Outdated."

You felt a surge of anger at the comment. Sure, you died near the 1940s, but that didn't mean you were outdated. Before you could even muster a response, Velvette raised a hand, and with a flick of her fingers, she effortlessly transformed the fabric of your dress. It rippled and shifted, morphing before your eyes into a pink silk pajama robe, trimmed with a cream-colored fur. She stepped back, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips as she admired her handiwork.

"Much better," she declared with a clap. "Listen, you're representing VoxTek now. Even when sleeping, we can't have you looking like a washed-up has-been, can we?"

Swallowing your pride, you forced a tight-lipped nod, suppressing the urge to lash out in defiance.

"Yes, ma'am," you managed to grit out, your voice strained. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she retorted, her tone sharp and dismissive. "I've got a lot of work to do, and you've got a long way to go before I can get you stage ready."

With that, Velvette stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with each brisk step. As she disappeared from view, Vox leaned in, his shadow casting a long silhouette against the wall. He reached for the doorknob, his fingers gliding over the cool metal.

"Goodnight," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning. With a gentle pull, he closed the door with a thud, sealing you in with your thoughts and fears. The latch clicked shut, and you were left alone, enveloped in the eerie silence of the unfamiliar space.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to survey your room even closer.

Your eyes swept over the tall walls adorned with abstract artwork, bursts of vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the subdued hues of the furniture. The wide windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, with skyscrapers twinkling in the distance like distant constellations.

Approaching the plush king-sized bed, you sank into its cloud-like mattress, feeling its comforting embrace envelop you. It was definitely an improvement from Mimzy's lounge. And yet, despite the luxurious trappings, a sense of confinement lingered. After all, a gilded cage remains a cage.

As you assessed your situation, it became clear that you were going to be the star attraction in Velvette's upcoming fashion extravaganza. Her shows were always a hit, and this year's circus-themed spectacle had her buzzing with excitement. The lead model was a singer-actress you'd heard of; you'd seen her the day Mimzy dragged her into the lounge. Pity the poor girl died.

Given the circus motif, it was apparent why Velvette had chosen you. Your background as a singer, coupled with your doll-like appearance, made you the perfect fit for the role.

The best course of action now was to play it safe. Going along with her plan was sure to draw attention, from the lowest imps to Lucifer Morningstar himself. Your face was bound to be plastered on every screen in the infernal realm, broadcasted to demons and damned souls alike. Even with his hatred for the picture shows, Alastor would have to be both blind and deaf to miss this.

He would come for you, you knew it deep in your bones, and yet a pessimistic voice in the back of your head whispered doubts.

Did you even deserve to be taken back after all of this?

With these thoughts weighing heavily on your mind like an anchor dragging you into the depths, you closed your eyes, seeking solace in the darkness behind your lids. But sleep remained elusive, evading your grasp.

As the night wore on, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy fog, its tendrils enveloping you in a suffocating embrace. Despite the turmoil raging within, your body succumbed to weariness, and gradually, you slipped into your dreams.

˚୨୧₊♱

Both you and Alastor embarked on a slow journey through the darkened streets of Louisiana, the car's headlights cutting through the enveloping gloom like beacons. Carefully navigating the labyrinthine city, you avoided the occasional patrol car with its blinding flashlights, skirting through shadowed alleys and side streets to evade detection.

Finally reaching the outskirts of town, where the forest awaited, Alastor brought the car to a halt, the engine's low hum fading into silence. Turning to you, he noticed the fear etched on your face, your wide eyes reflecting the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

With a tender touch, Alastor took your face in his hands, calling for you. "Cher?"

You turned to him, your lips parting slightly as tears welled in your eyes. Alastor's touch was feather-light as his fingertips traced a delicate path along the curve of your cheek. With a gentle brush of his thumb, he coaxed your eyelids closed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving a trail in their wake. As you blinked your eyes open again, you were met with the tender press of his lips against yours.

"We did what we had to do," Alastor murmured against your lips, his voice a low rasp that sent goosebumps dancing across your skin.

With his eyes closed, he leaned in closer, his kiss growing more urgent, almost desperate. You responded in kind, the roughness of the kiss igniting a fire within you.

Feeling his fingers threading through the back of your hair, you whimpered and melted into his embrace, your hands clutching onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his button-up shirt. Alastor groaned in response as he lifted you effortlessly from the passenger seat and settled you onto his lap. Your chest pressed flat against his, the rhythm of your heartbeat syncing with his own.

As the sky grew darker, the moon mingling with the fading hues of sunset, the wind whispered through the open windows of the car, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning.

Alastor eventually pulled away, his gaze lingering on your tousled hair and puffy lips as he leaned back in his seat, taking in every detail of your appearance. Seeing you in such a ruined state stirred something within him.

"Are you ready?" he asked. You nodded meekly in response, your heart racing.

Truth be told, you didn't think you could ever truly be ready for what you were about to do.

Your husband hummed in acknowledgment, allowing you to slip off his lap as he straightened his brown coat, the fabric rustling softly with each movement.

Guiding you out of the car, he then reached into the backseat, retrieving his hunting gun. The metallic click of the firearm being loaded echoed in the quiet night. And you damn near fainted when he handed it to you, the weight of it feeling heavier than you could bear. The metal surface was icy against your palm, and you fought the urge to recoil, but Alastor pressed it firmly into your hand, his touch reassuring yet commanding.

"You'll need this," Alastor spoke lowly, bending down to your height, his glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose. "Use it for safety. There might be wild animals out."

You hesitated, the weight of the weapon heavy in your hand, but the urgency in his tone spurred you to nod in agreement.

"Do you remember when I taught you how to hunt?" he questioned, slipping on a pair of dark leather gloves he had pulled out of his pocket. His voice was low and smooth, laced with a hint of nostalgia. "You remember how to shoot, no?"

You nodded, eyes still glued to the gun, unable to tear your gaze away.

"Words, cher. Use your words."

"Yes, love," you whispered, finding your voice. Alastor smiled, the rough texture of his glove grazing gently against your cheek as he pressed his hand to your face one last time before stepping away.

Your husband made his way to the trunk of the car, the soft glow of the taillights casting long shadows across the forest floor. With strong pull, he opened it, revealing its contents. Your breath caught in your throat as he retrieved a shovel and a black body bag, the sight sending a sickening feeling through your stomach.

Alastor slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking, his steps confident, as if he knew exactly where he was going. The weight of the bag seemed inconsequential to him, swinging lightly with each stride. There was an odd, almost unsettling look in his eyes as he whistled a tune, the sound echoing eerily through the silent woods. A glint of something primal and untamed flickered within their depths.

Nonetheless, you followed him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame.

Trudging deeper, the shadows seemed to grow darker, more menacing. The silence pressed in on you from all sides, broken only by Alastor's whistling and the sound of your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Each step felt like a descent into madness, the unknown lurking just beyond the reach of your flashlight's beam.

Suddenly, Alastor halted in a secluded corner, where the trees were decaying, their long branches resembling gnarled fingers reaching out for you in the darkness. He turned to you, the dim light of your flashlight reflecting off his glasses, giving his brown eyes an otherworldly glint.

In that moment, illuminated by the pale beam, he looked almost demonic, his features twisted by the play of light and shadow.

"I'll be back shortly, cher," he hummed with a smile, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. You couldn't help but notice a darkened spot on his brown coat, the collar of his white button-up now stained with crimson. "Stay here."

With that, he disappeared into the darkness, his figure swallowed by the shadows of the forest, leaving you alone amidst the looming trees.

Time stretched on endlessly, each minute feeling like an eternity as you stood alone. Faintly, you could hear the distant sound of Alastor's shovel breaking through the earth's surface, its metallic scrape and the muffled thud as it struck the soil sending another wave of nausea curling in your gut, each noise a grim reminder of the task at hand.

All you wanted was to escape, to return to the safety of your quaint house in the city.

More than anything, you longed to open a bottle of whiskey, to drown your fears and sorrows in its comforting embrace. Maybe have a second, or a third, and just forget.

Forget about all of this. Forget it all ever happened. But deep down, you knew that no amount of alcohol could erase the memories of tonight, each image now etched into your mind like scars on your soul.

All of a sudden, a rustling sound behind you sent a jolt of adrenaline through your veins, followed by the distant but unmistakable bark of dogs. The sound seemed to come from all directions, surrounding you in a menacing chorus.

With a sharp gasp, you spun round and round in a whirl, your vision tunneling with fear as you scanned the darkness, eyes wide and frantic. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, seemed to magnify the sense of dread that gripped you. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the cool night air burning in your lungs as you struggled to keep your composure.

And then, without warning, something lunged from the darkness, a blur of movement that sent your heart racing even faster. Instinct took over, and without thinking, you raised the gun and fired, the deafening sound reverberating through the silent forest.

You gasped for air, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you found yourself sitting on the damp, muddy ground. The recoil of the gun had sent you sprawling backward, leaving you disoriented and breathless.

With trembling hands, you clutched the gun closer to your chest, the cold metal providing a shaky sense of security in the darkness. Despite the fear coursing through your veins, a surge of determination propelled you forward, your muscles tensed and ready for whatever danger lay ahead. Scrambling to your feet, you pushed yourself onward.

Each step was punctuated by the crunch of underbrush beneath your boots, the sound amplifying in the stillness of the forest. Amidst the shadows and foliage, you caught a blur of brown, relief flooding through you like a wave crashing against the shore.

Oh, heavens, it was just a deer.

As you trudged towards the poor animal, your foot caught on a branch, and you stumbled, the unforgiving forest floor meeting your body with a painful thud. In the fall, your gun slipped from your grasp, skidding off into the shadows.

Wincing, you pushed yourself up to your knees, the earthy scent of decay mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You looked toward the fallen creature, its form now visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the trees. But as you crawled over, dread crept into your heart.

There, lying face down on the dirt, was Alastor, his once-immaculate brown coat now dirtied, blending seamlessly with mud. His glasses lay shattered and discarded in front of him, glinting faintly in the dim moonlight that danced across the forest floor. A pool of crimson blood seeped from his head, staining the earth beneath him.

Your eyes widened with renewed horror as the truth dawned upon you, and you fell onto your back, scrambling away from the corpse of your husband, the damp earth sticking to your palms as you clawed at the ground in your panic.

The bark of the dogs were louder now, closer. Ignoring the dizzy vertigo in your head, you pushed yourself to your feet, your senses on high alert.

You choked out a broken apology but found that you could not hear it, that you could not make any sound at all.

You breathed, it was all you could do, all you could manage at the moment, and with the terrible weight on your chest, even that was made difficult.

What have you done?

˚୨୧₊♱

"Salutations! It's Tom back on the airwaves! Hold onto your hats because we've got some news that'll knock your socks off! Alastor Caron, the big shot radio host and husband of underground singer Dolly, also known as Y/N Caron, has been found pushing up daisies out in the sticks of Louisiana!

That's right, folks, he's dead!

Word on the street is, ol' Alastor met our maker with a bullet to the head in what can only be described as a real tragic whodunit. Sources close to the case are whispering in the wind, suggesting that Dolly herself might be mixed up in this spicy little affair. The coppers found her fingerprints on the gun! Can you believe it?! Stay tuned as we peel back the curtain and spill the tea on this sto—"

You shut the radio off with a frustrated slam of your fist, the sound echoing through the desolate living room.

Eviction papers and newspapers, crumpled and worn from countless readings, are strewn haphazardly across the table.

"Gone Girl," "Husband-killer," "Missing Marionette," "A Doll's Vanishing Act," "Manhunt underway for Suspected Murderer," "Louisiana Radio Host dead; Wife blamed."

The headlines scream, each word a painful reminder of the nightmare engulfing your life.

Empty bottles litter around you, their contents spilled and forgotten, the sharp scent of alcohol mingling with the drowning feeling of grief that permeates the room. Sirens wail in the distance while red and blue lights dance along the walls, cast by the dim light filtering through tightly shut curtains.

As you reach for another bottle, the drinks blur into one another, their labels indistinguishable in the dark room. The burning sensation as the liquid courses down your throat offers temporary relief from the turmoil raging inside your mind, numbing the pain and grief threatening to consume you. Each sip takes you further into a haze.

The room spins around you, items warping and dancing in a twisted mockery of your predicament. There are whispers now, soft and insidious, slithering into your ears like serpents. You try to push away the accusing voices echoing in your mind, drowning them out with your bottle's numbing embrace. But with each passing moment, the weight of the accusations grows heavier, dragging you deeper into despair.

Nausea churns in the pit of your stomach, and you finally stop moving, the dizziness overwhelming you. A deathly coldness settles over you, seeping into your bones like icy tendrils, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Your fingers lose their grip on the bottle, and it crashes to the ground with a shattering sound that echoes in the stillness of the room, shards of glass scattering across the floor like stars falling from the sky. You follow suit, collapsing onto the floor, limbs heavy and muscles twitching.

You stare vacantly ahead, unable to move, your eyes glazed over with a hollow emptiness as a sense of dread washes over you, suffusing the air with an oppressive weight. Each breath feels like a battle, your chest tightening with every inhalation, as if your lungs were filled with water.

Your breaths grow more labored, each one shallower than the last, until they eventually cease altogether, leaving you gasping for air that refuses to come.

The world around you fades into darkness, the edges of your vision blurring as consciousness slips away, leaving you engulfed in a silence broken only by the faint echo of your last heartbeat.

˚୨୧₊♱

There was screaming.

Footsteps thudded along a path nearby, accompanied by the fluttering of wings as creatures soared overhead.

You awaken with a startle, disoriented and groggy.

Slowly sitting up, you find yourself surrounded by a crimson landscape, a pentagram shimmering ominously in the air above you. As you move, your hand sinks into something cold and wet, a sickening squelch accompanying the sensation.

Horror grips you as you realize your hand is touching a corpse, its monstrous form adorned with twisted horns, jagged tails, and rows of sharp teeth. The pair of lifeless eyes shift and stare into you, devoid of any trace of humanity.

Frozen with terror and panic, you scramble away from the grotesque sight, the ground slick with crimson ichor, each step leaving bloody handprints and footprints in your wake.

The evening light of this place reveals a grim environment surrounding you – a lumpy, uneven field of corpses and bones, a mass grave unlike any you've ever seen. But these corpses are not human; they are demonic, twisted and contorted in death.

Before you can even make sense of this grotesque scene, a spear slices through the air, its sharp tip gleaming in the dim light. With a thud, it embeds itself into the ground beside you. A sharp, stinging sensation follows as your cheeks burn, crimson liquid trailing down your skin.

Gasping for breath, you look up and catch sight of a figure soaring overhead, its massive wings spread wide against the crimson sky. Each beat sends a gust of wind rushing past you, whipping your hair around your face. The figure's single eye fixates on you, its gaze piercing through the darkness, the other obscured by a large 'X' mark.

Adrenaline surges through your veins as you run away, the cold sweat of fear prickling your skin.

Your surroundings blur into a chaotic whirlwind as you race through the labyrinthine alleys of Hell. With every stride, your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. Each footfall echoes in the narrow passageways, the walls closing in around you like a vice, but the chase of the angel behind you drives you forward, your muscles burning with exertion as you push yourself to your limits.

Suddenly, you're yanked to a stop, your body colliding with a stone floor as you're pulled into a hidden doorway. Pain shoots through your arm, and you wince, clutching it tightly against your chest. It throbs with a dull ache, bruised from the fall.

As you cautiously lift your gaze, you find yourself in a familiar setting—a speakeasy, though more rugged and rundown than you were used to. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. Mismatched furniture and a barely held-together bar give the place a sense of makeshift charm.

"Well, look who it is."

The voice freezes you in place, and your eyes nervously move upward to see a familiar blonde woman before you, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, her eyes dark and intense.

"Mimzy?" you whisper, disbelief coloring your voice.

"It's me!" she cheers, swinging her legs and jazzing her arms up in the air. With a jump, she plops onto the ground, circling your hunched-over form with a mischievous grin. "How you doin', Dolly?"

"How?" your mind scrambles. "You-You…"

"I know! You thought I was dead?" she snickers before knocking you upside the head playfully. "Welcome to the afterlife, you ditz!"

"What?" you rasp, eyes frantically darting from her to your surroundings. "What are you talking about? Why do you look like that?!"

"Look what? Adorable~?" Mimzy hums and waltzes over to a gramophone, inserting a disk and starting a scratching melody that fills the speakeasy.

Hello, Dolly! Well, hello, Dolly! It's so nice to have you back where you belong~

"Come on, Dolly," Mimzy says, her voice low and melodic as she sways to the music. The bedazzled fringes of her dress sparkle in the dim light as she twirls, her heels dragging along the floorboards. "You haven't been living under a rock, have you? Or did'ja just arrive?"

You're lookin' swell, Dolly I can tell, Dolly You're still glowin', you're still crowin' You're still goin' strong

"I don't understand," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. Everything feels like a dream—a nightmare, more accurately. "Where am I? What's going on?"

"We're both dead," Mimzy chuckles, tapping her heels along to the beat.

We feel the room swayin' While the band's playin' One of your old favourite songs from way back when

"What do you mean?" you manage to croak out, the words barely audible over the music.

Mimzy pauses mid-twirl. "Oh, Dolly," she sighs, shaking her head. "Hell, darling. We're in Hell."

Your blood runs cold at her words, the reality of your situation sinking in like a heavy weight on your chest. The memories of that fateful night flood your mind, filling you with a sense of guilt and despair.

Before you can voice your thoughts, Mimzy grabs your hand and pulls you into a dance, the gramophone's melody swirling around you like a sinister lullaby.

"So, take her wrap, fellas," Mimzy sings along, her laughter echoing off the walls. Her eyes gleam with a mischievous light as she leads you through the steps of the choreography you once knew so well. She twirls you around and drops you into a dip. "Find her an empty lap, fellas!"

"Dolly'll never go away again~"

You feel a surge of frustration building within you, the absurdity of overwhelming your senses. With a shout of anger, you push Mimzy away, a scowl etched deep on your face. She stumbles back, nearly losing her balance in her heels, her smile fading into a look of annoyance.

"Will you cut it out!" you snap, your voice echoing in the empty speakeasy. "Tell me what's going on!"

"Killjoy." Mimzy rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She moves over to the gramophone and turns it off, the melody abruptly silenced.

"I just told you what was going on, you doof!" Mimzy retorts, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The speakeasy falls into an uneasy silence, the air thick with tension, broken only by the faint sound of distant screams echoing outside the building. You gesture toward the source of the noise with a look of shock.

"Alright, I know well enough why I'm here, but what is that?" you inquire, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"An extermination. Angels come here to rid of sinners and such," Mimzy shrugs, her expression nonchalant despite the gravity of her words.

"Well, what about Alastor?" you press, the worry evident in your voice.

Mimzy's expression darkens, a flicker of anger crossing her features before she quickly masks it with a smirk. "Oh, you mean your darling husband? He's probably causing chaos somewhere, as usual. He'll be fine."

"I don't think he even knows you're here," she adds on with a yawn. "He probably thinks you're up in the shiny gates of heaven with his momma or something."

"Al knows I'm already dead?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yup!" Mimzy chirps, her grin widening. "Your death came out in the news months ago. But only Lord knows why it took 'em so long to get you through purgatory."

The barrage of new information leaves you dizzy, your head spinning with the implications. "Wait—my death? The news?"

Mimzy moves over to the bar, kneeling down the worn floorboards as she digs through the bottom drawers.

"Didja know there's this little killin' business in Hell? I.M.P.—the Immediate Murder Professionals. And there's this cute little fella named Blitzo who does deliveries for me. I was his first costumer and poor guy needs the extra money so—"

"Mimzy, why are you telling me this?" you interject, confusion evident in your tone.

Mimzy's grin widens as she peeks at you from over the counter, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, sweetcheeks," she purrs, continuing to leaf through piles of paper, "if you paid attention to their name, they do murder. Murder in the human world, to be exact. And I hired them to go snuff you out!"

"But lo and behold, to my surprise," Mimzy continues, her tone laced with amusement, "you did their job for 'em! And this is what they brought back as proof."

With a flourish, Mimzy procures a newspaper from the depths of the cabident, her hands waving it around in excitement. She throws it to you, and you catch it, fumbling to see the headline. Your stomach churns as you take in the bold letters.

'LAST SWING: Speakeasy Star Suspected of Husband's Murder Dies in Alcohol Overdose.'

"Hi-larious!" Mimzy snorts as she presses a finger against the title, her expression gleeful. You hold the paper up, your hands trembling as you read through the article detailing your own death.

With a cackle, Mimzy jumps onto a nearby table, her movements lithe and energetic as she snatches the paper away from you.

"So, did'ja do it?" she taunts, leaning in close to your face with a devilish grin. "Didn't take you as the type. What was it? Poison? Housewife classic, I tell ya. Maybe a knife? Good ole push him down the stairs? Or was it a gun?"

You tense up at her last words, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. Mimzy smirks, her snicker ringing out like a sinister melody. Curls bounce around her face as she leans in closer, her lips practically ghosting against your cut.

"You shot him?"

"I—" you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as you run a hand through your frazzled hair, the disheveled strands tangling under your trembling fingers. "I didn't mean to! Heavens. I thought he was a deer!"

At that, Mimzy bursts out in loud laughter, tears streaming down her face as she clutches her stomach, doubling over with mirth. The sound echoes off the grimy walls of the speakeasy.

"Is that right?" she wheezes between fits of laughter, slapping her knee while still shaking with amusement. "No wonder he looks like a deer! Oh! The irony!"

"Deer?" you whisper out in confusion, your mind struggling to grasp the implications of her words amidst the chaos of her laughter. She laughs even harder at your response, kicking her feet in the air with unrestrained glee.

After a few minutes, she finally calms down. With a skip in her step and a glint in her eyes, she saunters over to you. Humming a tune, Mimzy twirls around you again, her movements fluid and graceful despite her earlier outburst.

"I know something you don't know~" she sings.

"What do you mean?" you frown, your voice trembling as you gaze at her, searching for any hint of what she's hiding.

"All in good time. I've told you a lot already, didn't I?" Mimzy replies cryptically, her tone snappy. "Let's see—I graciously saved you from that angel that was ready to spill your guts out, I've given you a wonderful welcome, helped you learn about your death, and, well, you were involved in my murder. I'd say the scales aren't balanced! You owe me. A lot."

Guilt churns in your gut as you nervously wring your hands. "Mimzy, no words can express how much guilt I feel about your—"

"Oh, cut the weeping dame bullshit. I don't care about that," Mimzy interrupts with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand. Her eyes gleam with a predatory intensity as she leans in closer.

"I'm feeling generous today," she purrs, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "So, I'll make you a deal."

You eye her warily, the guilt in your gut twisting into a knot of apprehension. Despite your unease, you nod, silently urging her to continue, bracing yourself for whatever devil's bargain she has in store.

"In exchange for absolving your involvement in my murder and providing information on your husband," she whispers, her voice dripping with malice, "you'll owe me a favor. A big one. I want you to work for me again."

You tense, your mind racing as you process her proposition, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "What?"

Mimzy's smirk widens at your reaction, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she relishes in your discomfort. "That's right, sugar. I want you back on the job, working for me just like old times."

"Well I… I don't have much of a choice, do I?" you reply, clenching your fists in frustration.

Mimzy's laughter reverberates through the speakeasy, each chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

"Of course not! Would you prefer to go running to Alastor instead? Oh, dear hubby, please shield me from the consequences of my sins! My apologies for putting a bullet in your skull!" she mocks your voice, drawling the syllables out as she clasps her hands together and bats her eyes at you.

A surge of humiliation and guilt washes over you, weighing heavy on your shoulders as you struggle to come to terms with the choices before you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. Despite the overwhelming guilt and shame swirling within you, you know that you're cornered. Mimzy has you right where she wants you, and the only way out is to play her game.

"Fine," you say through gritted teeth, your voice tinged with resignation. "I'll work for you again."

Mimzy's grin widens, her sharp teeth flashed at you. "Excellent choice, darling. You won't regret it."

With a snap of her fingers, a contract materializes in her hand. She hands it over to you, and you read through it. Funnily enough, it looks almost identical to your previous employment contract in the living with her, but one detail catches your eye.

"To settle the debt incurred due to the aforementioned act, Y/N Caron, acknowledging the gravity of her transgressions, agrees to become a singer for Mimzy's Lounge for a duration of ten decades," you read the line in shock. Turning to Mimzy, you clutch the contract tightly, your nails threatening to break the paper. "Ten decades?!"

"What?" Mimzy scoffs, her voice dripping with derision. "You stuck here for all of eternity anyways, and so is your husband. Might as well do something."

With a theatrical flourish, Mimzy reaches into her chest and pulls out a pen, waggling it teasingly in your face. "So? What will it be? Are ya gonna sign the contract? Or am I gonna have to throw you out where those angels can tear you to pieces?"

You read through the contract again, your eyes frantically scanning the paper for any loophole or escape route, but you come up empty-handed. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you realize that you're in this for the long haul.

"But what about Alastor?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your voice.

Mimzy's laughter filled the speakeasy, bouncing off the walls like mocking echoes. "Oh, sweetheart," she cooed with faux sympathy, "haven't you read the fine print? Your dear Alastor is strictly off-limits. Can't have him interfering with our little arrangement, now can we?"

"But… I need to see him," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

Mimzy's smirk widened into a wicked grin as she leaned in closer, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "And I need to make sure my end of the deal is fulfilled," she countered firmly.

Glancing down at the contract, you saw her pointing to a specific section. "Y/N Caron's husband, Alastor Caron, is strictly forbidden from being physically present around her in any way, shape, or form for the safety and integrity of this agreement."

"But… can't we find some middle ground?" you asked, a sliver of hope lingering in your voice.

"Ah, I've got an idea," Mimzy grinned , reaching into her drawer and pulling out an old radio. She extended it towards you. "You can talk with him as much as you like. This little radio will be your hotline to him. But there's a catch: he stays far, far away from you and this joint. How's that sound?"

Twisting the radio in your trembling hands, you felt the weight of the decision settle heavily on your shoulders. The device seemed ancient, its surface worn and its knobs slightly rusted, yet it held the power to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between you and Alastor. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly brought the pen to the paper, the ink blotting the sheet as you signed your name away, sealing your fate.

"It's a deal."

#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel velvette

[feyascorner]

Hear me out! Hear me out!

From Astrion's pov

A Tav who hates physical contact.

But then one night when it's pouring rain Tav comes to Astarion's tent feeling scared and ask if they can stay and then one thing leads to another and suddenly the two of them are cuddled together and Astarion is like "I thought you didn't like being touched" and Tav is like "Normally I'm scared people will hurt me when they touch me. But you are different. I feel safe with you. I trust you."

a/n. I’m going to collapse they’re everything to me AHHH THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PROMPT

Astarion, by nature and by the two-hundred years he’s spent as a vampire spawn, is a touchy person. It’s instinctual. A habit he can no longer break. It’s not even sexual, half the time. It’s simply how he conveys the words that he struggles to say, even if his vocabulary is filled to the brim with flowery verses of love straight from a romance novel.

But he understands the aversion for touch. Because he’s spent so much of his life hating the touch of strangers against his skin, he understands when you recoil when one of your companions attempt to hug you, or someone tries to shake your hand. Even if yours doesn’t stem from the similar situations where he had to set out on a victim under Cazador’s orders, he understands what it’s like to simply dislike it.

He doesn’t touch you, even if his hand itches to brush the stray strands of hair out of your face. Even as he has to yank his arm away when he feels it nearing yours as you walk alongside one another. Even as all he wants to do is drag you to the nearest corner and beg that you just hold his hand.

So when you appear at the flap of his tent, barely shielding yourself from the thunderous weather outside, asking if you can stay, his jaw physically unhinges.

He coughs, gathering himself quickly—or as quickly as he can manage.

“Come here, darling. You’ll freeze away with that mortal body of yours.”

He doesn’t even know how it happens. Well, he does, but he doesn’t really believe it’s happening. Only fifteen minutes later, you’re snuggled in under his blankets, pressed tightly against his side. He stares up at the ceiling on his back with wide eyes, slowly turning to look at you.

“Is this…alright?” He asks, and you peek out from one eye, adjusting your head on his arm. He can smell your shampoo from so close—lavender? No, maybe another blasted flower he doesn’t know the name of…

“What is?”

“This,” he waves his free arm between the two of you. “Don’t get me wrong, darling, you know I’m never against a cuddle, but I thought you—well—“

You stare at him expectantly.

“I thought you disliked physical contact,” he says, softer. “Not just with me, obviously. In general you seem rather opposed to the idea.”

The thunder rings from outside and your brows crease deeper. The light from a lightning strike illuminates your faces briefly before it’s a dim darkness again, with nothing but your own eyes able to adjust just enough to make out one another’s features. He’s sure he sees more than you do, considering his familiarity with the dark, and uses it to notice the way your lips purse at the intrusive sounds coming from outside.

He also notices you leaning closer to him, but hesitant. Your movements are unsure.

If he had a heart, it would’ve been pounding now, surely.

So he curls his arm closer, pushing you into his chest in the process. You tense briefly, but melt into the feeling, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Are you afraid?”

Your voice is but a whisper. “Not anymore.”

There’s a comfortable silence hanging in the air for what seems like hours, but he might consider them to be just a few minutes. The rain pounds relentlessly against the tent, but here, even through the thin fabric, he doesn’t even notice it anymore.

“You’re different from everyone else,” you mumble, and he looks down at his chest to see your eyes halfway shut, clearly about to doze off. “I know you won’t hurt me…there’s no reason for me to avoid touching you.”

He blinks, and you bury half your face into the fabric of his shirt.

“I want you to touch me.”

For the first time in decades, Astarion finds himself at a loss for words. He’s said worse things, sure, but coming from you?…

After filing through a dozen possible responses, he settled on one, opening his mouth to respond, but your breath is already heavier. You’ve already left to a dream world he cannot follow you into, and you’ve left him in a state that he would’ve considered humiliating with anyone else.

He stares at the ceiling again, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing.

“You can’t just say that and then fall asleep you fool…”

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff

[chososdiscordkitten]

artist- Yunonoaii on twt

MDNI

Content: CONSENSUAL SOMNOPHILIA. no y/n used or pronouns, satoru is the one sleeping, established relationship, porn without plot, free use, reader has doubts abt somno, oral (m!receiving), satoru is too pretty for his own good, penetrative sex- no detailed desc of readers parts (?), he wakes up, only 1 round before sleep again, no aftercare (?), riding n brief missionary Word count: 2.7k

(a.n)I couldn't get this specific art out of my head while writing this. help me, yuana for president

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Batting your eyes open and feeling the light of the moon illuminate your skin. Pursing your lips and looking over to your sleeping boyfriend. Scanning his face, long white eyelashes that gracefully covered his eyes.

Plump lips parted effortlessly, a strong jawline that made his otherwise soft features pop even more. Looking at his perfectly pointed nose, eyes trailing to the slightly damp lily white hair that delicately rested on his forehead.

The moon lit up the side of his face at just the right angle so that you could see light dandelion like peach fuzz that graced his pale skin.

‘Flawless.’ you thought before sitting up, dangling one of your legs off of the bed and trailing your eyes down to his neck. His bobbing adam's apple when he swallowed lightly, refined collarbones that your hands ached to trace.

Trailing down his bare impressive torso that you knew he took his time crafting. You nodded your head ‘no’ slightly, almost disapproving of how he pretty he looked; even if he was sleeping. Milky long fingers delicately planted on his tummy, eyes going from his perfectly manicured fingernails, to his gaunt knuckles.

Scanning his light happy trail with endearing eyes. 

Tracing your gaze down his sides. Pale velvety thighs that you were envious of at times. Eyes trailing back up to the softened appendage between his plush thighs.

Inhaling sharply as you felt the familiar warmth flood in your belly. Looking away, suddenly remembering the reason you stirred awake. Gently stepping off of the bed and quietly stepping out of the bedroom.

Cold tile hitting the bottoms of your feet, stepping as softly as you could. Not caring that you were nude walking in the dark of his apartment hallway before reaching his kitchen. Humming quietly as you poured from the brita water pitcher he had in his fridge.

Looking from the kitchen island out to the striking skyline from the floor to ceiling windows. Thinking back on all the times he had tried to convince you to fulfill one of his greatest fantasies. 

“I'm just saying- if you were to ever wake me up by riding me? I would be over the moon~” he teased, resting his chin on your shoulder as you cooked breakfast.

“That's so strange- too weird. Even for you, Satoru.” You replied, shaking him off of you as you heard him give you an over dramatic sigh.

“Think about how hot it would be- if you ever told me you wanted that I wouldn't hesitate to do it.” he hummed, pressing his back onto the edge of the island.

You turned around to look at him, “I will-” you smiled sweetly, his expression showing over excitement at those two little words. “-never ask you to do that to me.” You finished, patting his chest with your hand.

Turning around, spatula in hand as he walked over to the living room couches. “And don't pout!” you exclaimed, knowing he already was sulking in the couches.

Even on his birthday, staring at the lit candles on the small cake you had gotten him. “Make a wish~” you hummed, seeing him close his eyes and think about what he wanted,.

“I wish to wake up with my cock in your mouth.” he whispered, blowing out the candles and looking at you with a thrilled smile.

“It won't come true-” you purse your lips looking at him with a deadpan face. Seeing him irk his chin almost asking what you mean. “You said it outloud- so it won't come true.” You teased, plucking off the candles from his over frosted birthday cake.

Three times he asked you to do it, knowing he wouldn't stop asking till you gave him some kind of hope that you'd fulfill his wishes.

And on the third time, you told him you'd think about it. And you did. You spent a good 30 minutes that night thinking on it. Wondering why he found it so appealing to be touched as he slept.

Remembering he said something about how arousing it would be knowing you couldn't wait till he woke up to play.

It was true, you had an adventurous sex life with Satoru, trying anything at least once to know if either of you liked it or not. But this felt off, you didn't know if it was because the only kind of somno you had been exposed to was always some kind of creepy weird fetish that always looked nonconsensual.

But you were sure that you'd never be interested in receiving it. 

To Satoru, he found it appealing thinking if the day ever came; he'd wake up to you doing whatever you wanted to him, knowing he wasn't awake to protest or to tease you.

So riled up and caught up in the moment that you didn't even bother waking him, using him for your own pleasures.

He liked thinking that you found him so attractive that even if he was sleeping- you’d want to fuck him. In his own mind, he was yours, physically, mentally, emotionally, everything he had- he would give you. Yours to use whenever you'd like, rough, gentle, bottom or top.

At times he'd pretend to complain. “I act on your every whim and I can't even put in one request!?” he’d exclaimed with pouty eyes, knowing you were looking at him with a stern face.

“I do almost everything you ask of me, Satoru.” you smiled, being able to hear his feigned frustration in his dramatic sighs.

“It's like- a version of free use-” he'd tell you, knowing how riled up he got even thinking about how you could use him whenever you'd like, and he’d let you. Satoru had spoken about free use with you, it was one of the established things both of you had put the green light on.

This whole ‘biggest fantasy’ of his wasn't a red light to you, it was more of a yellow light. Unsure how to tread through it, or how to go about it really. 

Which is why you found this so conflicting, standing at the doorway of his bedroom. Staring at his sculpture like body, chest rising and falling as he slept peacefully.

Mentally arguing with yourself, morally it would be wrong. But didn't he say he wanted this? All but begging on his hands and knees? And how could you resist when he was sleeping so beautifully? 

Taking quiet steps towards him, standing next to the edge of the bed on his side. Gulping when you saw the light veins on his lower abdomen.

Sitting on the small edge beside him, leaning over and pressing a light kiss on his cheek. Whispering in his ear, “Satoru.” you called out, in hopes he'd wake up. You took your hand and brushed the light strands of hair from his forehead. Catching a glimpse of one of the few imperfections on his skin, one of his least favorite ones. 

Planting a gentle kiss to the scar on his forehead, seeing his eyebrows slightly furrow feeling you.

“Satoru.” you whispered once more, hearing him let out a low hum. Placing a soft kiss to his parted lips, hearing him let out a small huff. Trailing kisses on his features, seeing his eyes tighten when you placed an open mouth kiss on his adams apple.

Reaching his plentiful pecs, placing a wet kiss to the swell of one of them. Looking up and scanning his face to make sure he didn't look unsettled before sticking your tongue out slightly and circling it to his softened nipple.

Hearing him let out a quiet huff at the sudden feeling, knowing how sensitive he was awake. Fully expecting him to be even more reactive while sleeping.

Feeling the pink bud harden in your mouth as you heard more frustrated puffs and light whines from his plush lips. Taking your other hand and pressing your thumb to his other nipple, gently rubbing it against the pad of your thumb.

Throaty moans leaving his lips, looking down and seeing his soft cock slightly jump when you flicked your tongue against him. Pulling your lips and hand from his chest as you sat up, scanning his face to see if there were any signs of him being awake. “Toru-” you whispered, seeing his eyebrows furrow at the lack of stimulation to his chest. 

You slightly shifted down the bed, hands grazing his fair thighs. Eye to eye with his flaccid cock, hearing him let out a dissatisfied whine when you let out a sigh that hit his tip directly. You parted your lips slightly, leaning in with eyes looking up his torso. Being able to smell the floral body wash he had used before going to bed.

Taking an experimental lick at his pale shaft, scanning his expression for any discomfort. Finding none before licking a long stripe from his tip to his base. Seeing his upper torso shift slightly with a light blush appearing on his cheeks. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth when you saw his cock twitch. 

Placing an opened mouth kiss on his light pink tip, hearing a light gasp fall from his lips. Gentle hand on his thigh for balance as you blinked. Wrapping your lips around his tip, seeing his closed eyes scrunch at the feeling with a quiet moan.

Already being able to feel his cock hardening, slowly pushing past his tip. Small whines from Satoru as his tip brushed against the roof of your mouth. Dragging his stiffening member back out of your mouth, wrapping your lips around his tip as swirling your tongue at the small opening of his cock. Taking your free hand and grazing the tips of your fingers against his balls. Seeing him purse his lips slightly at the new feeling.

Rosy cheeks deepened as he squirmed, sliding your lips tightly off his tip. Blinking your eyes to his half hard cock, placing wet opened mouth kisses down his shaft. A small tear fell from his tip as he shuddered, kissing back up to his tip. Gasping lightly when you saw he was fully hard, “Oh ‘Toru~” you cooed, admiring his expression.

Pinching your eyebrows together, seeing his back slightly arching. The warmth between your thighs felt too evident right now, slowly shifting from the bottom of the bed onto your knees.

Lifting one leg and tossing it to the other side of him. Looking down at his heaving chest, eyebrows pinched as your hands grazed his ribs. His cock stood at attention, slightly pressing against your tummy. Satoru turned his face- almost feeling your gaze on his skin.

His lower body shifting beneath you, you took one hand to his cock; raising yourself higher before lining him up with your entrance. Eyes scanning his tense face. Seeing how pretty he looked this way, furrowed eyebrows and pink cheeks.

Light film of sweat on his forehead and pouty lips. Frustrated hands not knowing what to do- what to grab onto, one trying to grasp the sheets. The other on his chest trying to soothe the itch he felt in that moment, hand inches away from your own.

You pressed his tip to your sopping entrance, gasping as you took a snail's pace lowering yourself onto him. Not needing any prep, recalling the way he slammed into you mercilessly earlier. Showing you just how much he had missed you when he was away.

One of the reasons why you were fulfilling his wish, to show him just how you had missed him too. Satoru’s face churned as you lowered yourself onto him slowly. Hand planted on his sternum firmly, Satoru’s yearning hand grazing your fingers. Seeing him part his lips with a low whine, his head pushing itself back into the pillows as you felt his tip brush past that special spot he liked to exploit.

You let out a frustrated whine, eyes blinking over to see his other hand is gripping the sheets firmly. You exhaled breathlessly, thighs already shaking from how slow you were going.

His cock now fully inside of you, a gasp left your lips. Biting into your lip trying to quiet your own moans, heavy breathing coming from Satoru as shameless whines fell from him. Dragging his cock slowly out of you, closing your eyes as you felt him twitch inside of you.

Taking your hand and pressing the back of it to your lips as you slid down him, the hand that was atop yours now lightly gripping your wrist. Trying his very best to soothe the ache he felt between his legs. 

Pulling yourself up as a smile formed on your lips, sinking yourself down quicker. A loud whine falling from your lips without permission. Snapping your head down to see if Satoru had heard it as loud as you did. Slack jawed with a bead of sweat falling from his temple.

“Mm- fuck.” you gasped, feeling how deep his cock was nuzzled inside of you. Closing your eyes and tipping your head back as you fucked yourself, feeling the hand that was clutched on the sheets reach up to your thigh.

Hearing a small mutter as you ground yourself on him, thumb caressing your thigh as his eyes blinked open. You were so focused on staying quiet and not fucking yourself at the speed you wanted to not wake him. 

Frustrated exhale from his lips when the image of you lightly bouncing on him graced his half open eyes, focusing on your own pleasure before his. Sweet smile formed on his lips when he heard the stifled moans falling from you.

With a sharp inhale, you looked down, feeling his cock somehow go deeper inside of you. Seeing he was looking up at you with hazy eyes. “M’sorry-” you gasped, feeling his hand on your thigh roam up to your hip. Slowly grinding yourself back and forth as you let out noisier whines.

A string of quiet apologies leaving your lips for waking him up. Only small gasps were heard from him as he tried to shake off the hazy feeling. 

Satoru’s hand was trying its best to guide you to grind quicker, feeling your hips stutter against him. His grip strengthening on your side, closing his eyes and throwing his head back onto the pillow.

Now panting as you ground yourself quicker against him, “S-so pretty ‘Toru-” you gasped. Leaning down and pressing an opened mouth kiss to his neck, a whimper falling from his lips from your praise. Holding the side of his neck as you felt him guide you at the speed he wanted.

Both of his hands now on your hips, trying their best to get you to move quicker. Feeling himself unravel slowly by your touches. The more Satoru shook off the foggy feeling, the closer he felt himself come to the realization of what you were doing.

Unashamed whimpers directly in your ear as he mumbled a quiet, ‘M’cumming-’. Chest to chest as you pulled away from his neck, looking directly into his half lidded eyes. Looking at you slack jawed and blushed before you pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips.

He didn't feel he was deep enough inside of you, the need to be nestled fully inside of you was strong. A loud groan left into your mouth as Satoru gathered all the strength he could. With one swift motion, your back hit the sheets.

Eye to eye as he thrusted into you sloppily, gasping when you felt how deep he was thrusting into you. Pulling his lips from you and pressing his forehead to yours. For the first time, Satoru was silent, apart from his quiet whimpers; usually being all too talkative during sex. Now he found himself wordless, be it the fog in his brain or how you hugged his cock.

Gripping the sides of his neck as he thrusted out of you, inhaling sharply before thrusting into you once more. Making sure to get as deep as he could, pulling out quickly before snapping his hips back into you. Muffled whines from your lips as he let out a shivering groan, clenching his teeth together as he felt himself come undone. His warmth seeping inside of you as his arms struggled to keep himself propped up.

Placing a sloppy kiss to his open lips as he collapsed on top of you. Satoru’s head resting beside your neck as your hands found their way to his back. Holding him closer to your skin, Satoru’s eyes blinking shut slowly.

“Thank you-” he muttered against your skin, his back rising and falling slowed as he came down from his high. Hands rubbing small circles on his back to soothe the shivers that rumbled through him as he fell back to sleep.

-

I couldn't stop thinking about this. FINALLY I write something under 3k words. kk now im goin to work.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo #jjk satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #satoru #satorugojo #gojo x chubby reader

[drudyslut]

— summary: you and jj have some late night fun on the beach.

— warnings: smut! 18+ soft!jj, public sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, squirting, creampie, overstimulation, lots of praise, unprotected sex.

— note: this. gif… it has me feral as fuck. also, sex on the beach just screams jj vibes and i need it so badly :((

❥ sex on the beach — j.m

“jj-” you try and protest, but his lips are on yours again, silencing your pleas to ‘just go home’ and continue this.

a large hand runs up your side and to your shoulder, slowly pushing your back into the sand while his other hand is toying with the strings of your bikini bottoms.

his lips on yours have your brain short circuiting, almost forgetting that you’re in public, but the sound of the ocean waves crashing into the shore snap you back into reality.

you firmly press your palm to his chest, pushing him back, his lips red and swollen as he gives you a soft look, “what’s wrong baby?”

“i- shouldn’t we go home, j? i mean.. anyone can see us out here..”

jj sits himself on his knees, glancing around the dark, empty beach before his eyes find yours once more, “no one will see us princess, promise. this’ll be fun, c’mon..”

you bring your bottom lip between your teeth, glancing around the beach as well— not a soul in sight besides you and jj. this could be fun, you didn’t know why you were so worried, jj would never put you in a bad situation either.

you sigh, “you’re right, it’ll be fun. ‘m sorry, i just get nervous… we’ve never had sex in public before..”

“‘s okay sweet girl, but don’t worry, just clear your mind, let me help you forget your worries, yeah?”

before you can even mutter out a response jj has his mouth on yours again, leaving soft, slow kisses. a small moan falls from your lips when he works his way down your jaw and onto your neck, his swollen lips wrapping around the sensitive skin to suck in a deep, purple bruise.

“j, please”

he pulls his lips from your neck, sitting on his knees again and gazing down at you, “please what baby? tell me what you need”

you prop yourself up on your elbows, big doe eyes burning into his face, “need to feel you.. please”

jj chuckles softly, his head rolling to the side in amusement.

“mhm, gonna need to be more specific baby. don’t be shy”

“your mouth, your cock. i need all of it j”

a wide grin takes over his face, the moonlight illuminating his beautiful features, making his bright blue eyes sparkle, “s’all you needed to say baby”

he places his hands on your thighs, running his fingertips up and down the length of your smooth skin before he finds the strings that tied your bikini bottoms together. he slowly pulls at the strings, the perfectly tied knots on either side of your hips coming loose, bikini bottoms now barely covering your arousal slick cunt.

“lift up baby” jj says softly, and you obey, lifting your ass up slightly so he could pull the flimsy fabric from under you.

he wastes no time spreading your legs apart and dropping onto his stomach. a shudder runs down your spine when you feel his hot breath against your sopping core.

your hands fly into his hair, tugging softly at his messy blond locks, your hips bucking forward, chasing the friction you desperately craved.

jj glances up at you from between your legs, his tongue running across his bottom lip before he dips his head down, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit. you throw your head back into the sand, eyes squeezed shut as your fingertips dug further into his hair.

he repeats his actions a few more times before he finally wraps his plump lips around your clit, sucking at it softly. he releases your clit from his mouth with a soft pop, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud a few times, pulling soft whines from your lips.

jj begins prodding at your entrance with his tongue, pushing it in slowly before quickly pulling it back out. you squirm beneath him, clenching around air as you try and chase your high.

he drags his tongue through your slick, lips sucking at your puffy clit as he takes two of his fingers and begins sliding them through your folds. he slowly pushes his middle finger inside you, making you clamp down around the digit tightly as he slowly and sensually thrusts his finger before adding another.

your fingers tug at his hair, pushing his face further into your cunt as your orgasm begins to grow closer. you’re a whimpering mess, soft, sweet moans emitting from you, “j- fuck— ‘m so close, j!”

he quickens his fingers, the squelching sounds of your pussy and the waves crashing behind you filling the silent air. you feel the band tighten, your toes curling into the sand beneath you, hips rolling to meet each thrust of jj’s fingers, his mouth never letting up its assault on your sensitive clit.

the band finally snaps, your arms falling limp by your sides, fingers grasping onto the sand for dear life as your legs shake, your orgasm gushing from you and soaking jj’s face.

he helps you ride out you your high, not once faltering the movements of his fingers or the harsh sucking on your clit. you try and squeeze your legs closed, but jj’s strong hand finds your thigh, pushing it back to the side and firmly pressing it into the ground.

you begin to loudly whine, overstimulated and exhausted, “jj, please! s’too much!”

jj hums against your cunt, the vibrations making your hips buck forward, tears pricking at your eyes as you tried to weakly push him back. it was useless to try and push him away, he was much stronger than you, and the grip he had on your thigh was keeping your legs spread wide for him. his fingers begin to slow in pace, curving slightly as he begins hitting at your gspot again, trying to pull another orgasm from you.

you feel your belly tightening again, another orgasm ready to burst free, causing tears to uncontrollably stream down your face.

“ah ah, jj— shit!” you moan loudly, head pressed firmly into the ground, lip brought harshly between your teeth as your second orgasm quickly rushes from you.

jj pulls his head from between your legs, his face covered in your arousal. he smirks down at your limp body, his eyes intently watching as your chest heaves up and down, legs still shaking as you try and bring them together.

he crawls on top of you, his arms on either side of your body. he dips his head down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss and slipping his tongue inside your mouth, letting you taste yourself.

“did so good f’me baby, so good. you feel okay sweetheart?”

you weakly mutter out a “mhm”, too exhausted to try and form a full sentence.

jj nods his head, lowering his body onto yours. your eyes fly open when you feel his hard on pressing against your bare cunt through his swim trunks, “got one more in ya pretty girl? jus’ one more, and then i’ll take you home and take care of ya, sound good?”

you snake your arms around his waist, pushing his front further into you, a soft whine falling from your lips when his hard cock pressed against your overly sensitive clit, “wanna feel you, j. need to feel you”

jj smiles excitedly, pushing himself up and onto his feet. you watch him in awe as he strips himself of his swim trunks, his long, thick cock springing free and making saliva pool in your mouth. you’d always found jj attractive, obviously he was your boyfriend, but something about the way the moonlight was shining down on him, illuminating his beautiful body, made him look even more deliciously beautiful.

he drops himself to his knees, his hands finding the sand as he puts himself in push up position. he crawls his way toward you slowly, caging your body into the ground, his lips on yours in an instant.

you moan into his mouth, a smirk playing at his lips from how desperate you were for him, “gonna make you feel real good baby”

he takes one hand, grasping his cock and slowly pumping himself a few times before he runs his swollen head through your slick folds. a soft gasp falls past your lips when he slowly pushes the head in, quickly pulling it back out and repeating his actions a few times.

you’re about to complain, beg him to fuck you, but your words die, a loud shout of his name emitting from you when he sinks himself inside of you without warning, filling you to the hilt.

“oh shit! jj!”

he slowly rolls his hips into yours, the head of his cock repeatedly hitting at your sweet spot with each push and pull. your hands fly around his neck, fingernails digging into his shoulders and leaving half crescent moons on his skin. you scratch your nails down his back, the sounds of your loud moans drowning out the waves crashing into the shore.

still sensitive from the last two orgasms jj had awarded you, you could already feel your third brewing, your velvety inner walls clenching tightly around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

“gonna cum f’me already princess? we jus’ barely started” jj mocked teasingly.

he hisses when your fingernails dig further into his back, breaking the skin, “fuck, ‘m gonna cum if you keep squeezin’ on me so tight, want me to cum inside you sweet girl?”

you manage to breathe out an “mhm”, your eyes squeezed shut as you focus on your impending orgasm.

jj tuts, stilling his hips, his dick buried deep inside you as he gazes down at you, “words baby, want my cum inside this pretty lil’ pussy, hmm?”

a whimper leaves your lips at his lack of movement, “yes, p-please j. want your cum inside”

he smiles, his hips snapping harshly into yours once more, “atta girl, s’all i needed to hear”

low and raspy groans fill your ears, jj’s thrusts growing sloppier letting you know his own orgasm was nearing. he snakes his hands under your waist, large, calloused hands cupping at your ass before he quickly flips the two of you, putting you on top.

you throw your head back, arms flying behind you to steady yourself as you rolled your hips around his cock, giving him a perfect view of where the two of you connected.

“shit, your pussy looks so good with my cock buried inside it, could stay like this forever, shit!”

jj lays one hand behind his head, watching intently as you continued to slowly fuck yourself onto his cock. his free hand makes its way to your clit, rubbing sloppy circles around your overly sensitive bud.

strings of curses and groans fall from you and jj, your orgasms threatening to burst from you. jj removes his fingers from your clit, wrapping it around your waist and pulling you forward, your head buried in the crook of his neck as he begins to harshly fuck up into you.

“jj! j- shit, ‘m cumming j!”

“go on baby, ‘m right behind you!”

a few more harsh snaps of his hips has you tumbling over the edge, your third orgasm gushing from you and soaking jj’s cock and pelvis.

you feel his cock twitch inside you, a string of “fucks” falling past his lips as the hot, white ropes of his cum spill inside you.

he thrusts his cum deep into your cunt, his hand falling from your waist and to his sides as he tried to steady his breathing.

you roll yourself off of him, laying in the sand beside his sweaty, worn out body, “thank you, that was fun” you say sweetly, placing a soft kiss to his cheek.

rolls his head to the side, “told ya, you can bet your sweet ass we’re doing this more often”

JJ TAGLIST: @rafeism @ivy-34 @thelomlisrafecameron @writingjjfics @always-reading @harrys-humble-housewife @maybankspov @immyowndefender @jjmaybankswifes-blog @wetbitchlibrary @lizcameron @xprloki @starkeypankowsbae @moremaybank @alexisbaumann2004 @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @thewitchesofart @unsaidjaelinrose @itsmytimetoodream @abbybarnesstuff @r1vrsefx @mel119g @rafetopia @jade-is-jaded @jjmaybankisbae @lexasaurs634 @fayerite @drewstarkeyslut @presleyanswrites @sierraluvz @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @daivny @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @digitaldiary111 @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @personalfavsthatarerandom @urbestieboo @maybankslover @buckyisveryhot @cantstoptherecs @ratatioulle

jj masterlist | taglist form

#jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj smut #tw public sex #jj maybank brainrot #obx jj #obx jj maybank #obx smut #obx #obx fic

[mooshywrites]

Their secret turn-ons

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

NSFW

Masterlist

Art Commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Astarion -

~ Praise ~

You run your fingers through Astarion’s silvery white hair, savoring the softness of each curl as your lips met in a passionate kiss. His hand traced patterns along your skin, sending shivers of desire down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur, pulling back for a moment.

Astarion’s eyes, a mesmerizing shade of crimson in the firelight, gleamed with amusement as he met your gaze. The flickering flames dancing through the room illuminated his flawless features, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the subtle curve of his lips.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, darling,” he chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver of anticipation through you. “I must admit, I quite like being praised.”

“Oh?” you purred, pressing a slight kiss against his jaw.

“I’m afraid it might even be my undoing.” Astarion’s breath hitched at your touch, a mixture of desire and surprise. His usual confident demeanor faltered for a moment, replaced by a subtle vulnerability that that only added to his charm. You could feel the tension in his body as you continued to shower him with words of of adoration, each compliment causing a visible reaction in him. Each word causing him to grow harder under you.

The way his skin flushed under your fingertips, the way his breath quickened at the sound of your voice- it was clear that he was not accustomed to being showered with this amount of genuine praise. And yet, there was something undeniably alluring about the way he responded to it, as if each word ignited a fire within him that he struggled to contain.

As you leaned in closer, your lips grazing the sensitive skin of his neck, you felt him tremble beneath you. His hands reached out, seeking purchase on your waist as he pulled you even closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you any longer. And in that moment, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his defenses crumbling before your eyes, you knew that you had uncovered a side of Astarion that few had ever seen.

With a playful grin, he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, his eyes sparking with mischief. “Well, it seems you’ve uncovered my weakness, after all,” he chuckled, his voice tinged with affection.

“At least my undoing will be pleasurable.”

Halsin -

~ Possessiveness ~

With a sharp pang of jealousy slicing through your chest, you watched as the stranger flirted shamelessly with Halsin, their words dripping like honey from a comb. Every chuckle exchanged between them felt like a knife, igniting a fiery possessiveness within you that you struggled to contain.

As the evening wore on, your gaze kept drifting back to them, unable to shake off the unease that coiled in the pic of my stomach. Just when you thought you couldn’t bear it any longer, Halsin caught my eye.

The Druid made his way towards you, his brow furrowed in concern as he noticed the turmoil swirling in your eyes.

“Are you alright, my heart? You seem… distressed.”

A rush of conflicting emotions crashed over you - the burning jealousy, the fear of losing you to this charming stranger, and the undeniable longing for Halsin’s attention to be solely yours. Taking a deep breath, you finally found the courage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I… I’m feeling possessive,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment

Halsin’s eyes softened with understanding, his hand cupping your face tenderly. “You have nothing to worry about. You hold my heart in your hands.”

Before you could reply, a surge of fierce determination overtook you. In a bold move, you pulled Halsin close and captured his lips in a fiery kiss, a silent flaunting of your love in front of the bewildered stranger.

Halsin pulled back after a moment, his breathing heavier and eyes a shade darker than they were before. Without a word, his gaze pierced yours, a hunger igniting in his eyes that mirrored the fervor burning within you. His lips curled into a mischievous smile, a silent challenge passing between you.

With a daring glint in your eye, you tugged at his hand, leading him away from the curious onlookers towards a secluded alcove hidden behind cascading vines.

As soon as you were enveloped in privacy, Halsin wasted no time in pressing you against the cool stone wall, his breath hot on your skin. “So possessive, my heart,” he murmured huskily, his hands roaming over your body with familiarity and desire.

“Mine.” You growled, claiming him in a kiss once more.

His chuckle vibrated against your lips. A low and enticing sound that sent shivers down your spine. You felt his hardening member press flush against your stomach, his touch tightening around you.

“Be careful with the words you say, my heart. I may not be able to control myself.”

Gale -

~ Orgasm Denial ~

You watched as Gale’s body arched in pleasure, his mind consumed the sensation of ecstasy. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only you, him, and his cries of desperation as he thrust into your mouth. Every touch, every swirl of your tongue sent waves of desire through him, building towards an inevitable climax,

But just as Gale felt himself teetering on the edge of release, you abruptly pulled away, leaving him gasping for air. You watched as he sat up quickly, confusion and frustration evident on his face.

“Why did you stop,” he panted, his voice edging into a whine.

You smirked slightly, a devious glint in your eyes. “Because,” you began, your voice low and sultry, “I wanted to see how much you really wanted it.”

Gale’s eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, he hesitated, as if contemplating his next move. His desire seemed to rage within him, but you stayed still, gazing up at him.

Underneath his annoyance, you saw the undeniable truth-

He enjoyed this.

“You can try to deny it, Gale,” you said, your words a seductive purr. “But you’re melting in my hands.”

With those words, you leaned forward, allowing your lips to brush against the fender skin of his hip, sending shivers down his spine. Your hands gently traced the contours of his body, taking your time in teasing the man. His hips shifted desperately, the feel of your touch driving him wild with need.

“Please, no more,” he begged, his voice hoarse with desire.

Gently, you tilted your head to me with his gaze again, your eyes sparkling. “Oh, but my sweet Gale,“ you whispered, letting your voice linger on his name like a caress. “I think you’re going to love this”

Your lips met his erection, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine. Gale’s hands found their way to your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he gasped out your name.

As you sank down, your mouth enveloping him, he moaned, his hips bucking upward involuntarily. You held him steady with one hand, your other hand continuing to stroke him, the rhythm in sync with the movements of your head.

Gale’s body trembled, his breaths, becoming ragged, the sound of pleasure filling the air. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the need for release overwhelming him.

Then, at the height of his pleasure, you knew you had to give him what he needed. Your mouth devoured him, your hand pumping harder and faster. Gale arched his back, his hips bucking, his body shook, and then, with a massive release, he cried out your name, his climax overwhelming him.

You continued to work him, milking every last drop, until finally, he collapsed, spent. Then, with a contented sigh, he gave you a weak smile.

“I wouldn’t mind doing something like that again.”

Wyll -

~ Being in public ~

You and Wyll wandered into a dimly lit trinket shop, the kind that smelled of old dust and incense. The shelves were crammed full of curiosities, ornate music boxes that played haunted melodies, delicate glass orbs that held swirling liquid, and intricately carved wooden figurines. Your eyes were drawn to a beautiful silver bracelet adorned with tiny sapphires that sparkled in the dim light.

As you reached out to touch the bracelet, Wyll’s warm breath tickled your ear.

“I like it when you wear silver,” he murmured, his voice low. You could feel his chest pressed against your back, his heart beating in time with yours. He leaned in closer, his lips grazing your neck and erupting your skin in goosebumps.

You shivered slightly under Wyll’s touch, the sensation sending a wave of tingling pleasure down your spine. The air in the seemed to crackle with a new energy, the other patrons oblivious to the tension between the two of you.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as Wyll’s hands found their way to your waist, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin. Your pulse quickened as he turned you around to face him, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your knees weaken.

“You tease me far too much,” you chided, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed the desire that burned within you. “Someone is bound to hear.”

Wyll only smiled, a smirk that sent a thrill through you. “I can’t help myself when you look so irresistible,” he whispered huskily, his voice sending heat straight to your chest.

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless and wanting more.

“Careful, it would be a shame if someone heard those little moans you’re keeping from me,” he teased against your lips.

You pulled away from the kiss, your heart pounding in your breath coming in short gasps. “I think we should probably find a more private place,” you managed to say, your voice shaking but determined.

Wyll, ever the gentleman, wrapped an arm around your waist and gently led you through the crowded shop, weaving between the curious trinkets and inquisitive shoppers.

“If you insist, though I wouldn’t have minded giving everyone a show.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

#astarion #halsin #gale #wyll #astarion x you #halsin x you #gale x you #wyll x you #astarion x tav #halsin x tav #gale x tav #wyll x tav #astarion x reader #halsin x reader #gale x reader #wyll x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 halsin #bg3 gale #bg3 wyll #astarion romance #halsin romance #gale romance #wyll romance #bg3 romance #astarion smut #halsin smut #Gale smut #Wyll smut #bg3 smut

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter thirteen ⭐︎ For a moment, I was heaven struck

Warnings: mentions of smut, mentions of heartbreak and unrequited feelings, mentions of bad parenting, allusions to depression, lots of fluff -- and, angst at the end

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve gives you a glimpse of a future you could have with him -- if only things were so simple.

Word count: 13.5k+

Author's note: I'm not really proud of this chapter, but I hope you guys are gonna love this ♡ @hellfire--cult thanks for helping me, lovelyyyy

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Sunlight peeks through the curtains of Steve’s bedroom, illuminating the room ever so slightly. The weight on his chest warms him up, the scent that lingers on your hair, and your body is his own, you used his shampoo and bodywash the night before. To know that you smell like him, causes something in his chest to stir. 

As he opens his eyes, a smile appears on his face. 

Your cheek is squished against his bare chest, your eyes shut tightly as you’re still sleeping deeply. Your arm is wrapped around his waist, your whole body covering his own like a blanket. 

His own arms are wrapped around you, his left hand hidden underneath your – his shirt, fingers drumming against your soft skin.  

Steve blinks his sleepiness away and he raises his hand up towards your hair, smoothing it out, he runs his fingers through it as he watches you.

This isn’t anything new, you woke up beside him, on him, countless times before, and yet, it still feels so surreal sometimes. 

You are still his Blondie. 

He is still Steve. 

And yet, something has changed, something has shifted. 

A sigh falls from your lips, and you only snuggle deeper into his chest, scrunching up your nose a little, before your features relax again. 

He brushes some of your hair out of your face, his fingertips graze your cheek and your temple. He begins to twirl your strand around his finger, still smiling as his eyes stay on you. 

Memories from the night before start flashing in his mind, causing his smile to grow bigger as he thinks of how you kissed him, how you touched him, how you let him touch you, how you clung to his body. 

You got out of his car on shaky feet, your knees nearly buckled when you tried to walk, so he rushed towards you and steadied you with hands on your waist, before he leaned down and hooked his arm around the back of your knees and threw you over his shoulder, you squealed at his actions and hugged his waist tightly, as though he would let you fall. He couldn’t even help himself when he slapped your ass, the whimper that fell from your lips only made him feel more smug, just as the shakiness in your legs did. 

You shared another first together, last night. And that feels special and… intimate. It isn’t something that he wants you to do with someone else – he doesn’t want to imagine you with anyone else, at all. 

He only wants this, you finding pleasure in him and no one else. 

He wants to feel special, he wants to feel needed, and so far, you have been good at making him feel such things. 

And he tells himself that this is all it is – pleasure. That the gnawing feeling in his chest, the night before, wasn’t jealousy. That it was only possessiveness that he had felt because he wants you all to himself. 

But as he lies in his bed, with you in his arms, snuggled up against him, sleeping on top of him, the way a casual hookup shouldn’t be, and he holds you tightly, even tighter than he held one girl before, his hand freezes in your hair and he stops twirling it, his heart jumps in his chest, and his eyes widen as the panic in him, rushes through him so quickly that it halts his breath in his throat. 

And yet, the warmth in his chest feels so alarming, a flame that he thought had died, sparking – even if weakly.

No. No. No. 

His mind chants the same word over and over again. But then you stir in your sleep, and he feels your bare legs on his, which are hidden beneath the blanket that covers you both. Your fingernails graze his skin, your lips touch his chest as you turn your head, and then, you lay your palm on the spot, right over his poor heart. An innocent move that makes the spark a tiniest bit brighter, stronger, and his heart beat faster. 

��Well shit’. Steve thinks. 

He wants to groan, he wants to roll his eyes at himself and get angry at the weakness that lingers in him, but he can’t, he can’t even be mad at himself, not when he takes a deeper, longer look at you. 

What would King Steve think of this? 

His opinions don’t matter, they haven’t mattered once, since he let him die. But there was always a part of himself that he hated when he was still very much alive. He hated the thoughts in his head and how his own eyes strayed, even when he didn’t want them to. How his mind took him to where he told himself he didn’t want to be. 

King Steve doesn’t matter, his opinions don’t matter – and yet, he can’t help but wonder what his teenage self would think of him now if he saw you in his arms, like this, so closely, so intimately. 

He won’t ever find out, but he feels… troubled. 

“What time is it?” Your groggy voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and his eyes focus again as they meet your tired ones. 

You prop yourself up on his chest, and cover your mouth with your hand as you turn away with a yawn. 

Steve’s hand leaves your hair, and he runs it down your back instead as he watches you, the smile never fading. No makeup on your skin, your hair in its natural state, his shirt on your frame, and your features marked with tiredness. You’re adorable like this. 

You blink the sleep away, and rub your eyes as you take a look at the alarm on his nightstand. It’s 10 am. 

“Good morning, Blondie,” Steve whispers. 

“Morning, Steve.” 

You roll off of him, much to his dismay. You stretch your arms out and try to do the same to your legs when the soreness hits you, and you register the strong ache between your thighs. A pained whimper falls from your lips and you scrunch your eyes shut again. 

“Ouch.” 

Steve’s eyes flash with concern as he pushes himself up, he eyes your body and watches the way you press your hand against your inner thigh, whimpering at the pain he caused, the night before. 

“I’m going to kill you, Harrington.” 

Relief is quick to follow in his eyes, he relaxes as a smirk tugs at his lips. 

“It’s a good kind of pain, right Blondie?” 

When you open your eyes, you meet his gaze with a glare, causing him to chuckle. 

“Shut up, I don’t even know if I can stand,” you mumble as you press your palms against the mattress and sit up slowly. 

Steve chuckles again, pride swelling inside of him, knowing that he was the cause of it. He gets up and walks around his room in nothing but boxers, opening one of his drawers to grab a shirt. 

“I’ll prepare a bath for you to soak in then,” he says, glancing at you, “it’ll relax your muscles a little.” 

Your heart skips a beat as your eyes widen. 

You sit up further, still holding onto the sheets as you watch him put a shirt on his body. 

“You’re preparing a bath for me?” 

“Would you prefer a wheelchair?” He laughs, not noticing the stunned look on your face, as you open and close your mouth a few times. “I’ll be right back, Blondie,” he shoots you a smile before he opens the door, letting light seep into the room from the bright hallway, he takes another glance at you over his shoulder before he steps out and makes his way into the bathroom. 

You listen to his movements, ears perking up at the sound of water flowing the bathtub, moments later. 

He is really drawing you a bath. 

He had never done anything like this before, the most you got was a change of clothes, him letting you use his shower and the spare toothbrush he had in his drawer, but never this. 

This is him taking care of you and you can’t stop the smile from appearing on your face. Your heart flutters at the normalcy of all of this, despite how abnormal it is.  

Surely, this has nothing to do with feelings, but with him wanting to make it up to you for making your body ache – not that you are complaining, last night was one of the best ones that you had shared with each other. 

Despite the soreness in your body, you can’t help but feel heat pooling in your lower stomach, awakening the desire for him that always lingers. 

You throw the blanket off yourself and scoot closer to the edge of the bed, furrowing your brows, you try not to groan at the pain in your legs when your feet hit the ground. 

You have never experienced anything like this before. 

You have never struggled to get up the next morning. 

Your legs feel like jelly, and you can’t even squeeze your thighs together, but you push through the soreness. Your knees nearly buckle when you take the first step. 

“Jesus…” You murmur, shaking your head. 

You never spent much time wondering what kind of lover Steve would be, until he started showing signs of interest towards you. It felt wrong to think of him in such ways when he so clearly hated you. 

But if you had to guess, you would’ve thought of him as someone sweet and caring, loving and gentle – and you are sure that he is, just not with you. And it’s okay, it really is. You like the way he touches you, you like how he marks you up, how he manhandles you, how rough and intense he can be. You wouldn’t want it any other way. 

And yet, you can’t help but feel saddened to know that you will never experience another side of him – to know what it’s like to be loved by him. 

You walk into the large bathroom, to find him testing the water with his hand. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon lingers in the air, the bathtub is filled up high, even with bubbles. 

You lean against the doorframe and watch him for a moment, a teasing smile appearing on your face, “huh, who would’ve thought that Steve Harrington likes to take bubble baths – scented ones too.” 

Steve scoffs at your words in amusement. 

He turns around to face you after closing the tap. 

“It’s my mom’s stuff, Blondie,” he chuckles as he takes in the sight of you. Letting his eyes roam your body, the marks on your neck, the shirt that belongs to him, the softness of your skin that he wants to feel on his lips again. The urge to take care of you, now growing stronger than ever. 

You have stayed over countless times before, just as he did at your house. 

But neither of you ever stayed for long enough, you woke up, you got dressed and the most you have provided for each other was a cup of coffee and small talk. 

This is something new, a bubble bath – he had never done this for anyone before, despite how much he dreamed of having someone to take care of and spoil. 

“C’mere, Blondie,” he murmurs as he walks towards you, reaching his hand out for your own, he pulls you into him and places his other hand on your waist, “I promise, this will make you feel better.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart yet skipping another beat – if only he knew that it’s always aching for him. 

He takes your shirt off, exposing your bare body to him. The spot beneath his touch glowing with heat as he now holds your naked waist with both hands. 

Steve licks his lips as he looks down at you, his eyes blinking as they flash with something other than lust. There is a softness in them that you haven’t seen directed at you, ever before, and it makes your breathing stutter. 

As the morning sun peeks through the blinds, the golden light kissing every inch of your exposed skin, he takes in the sight of how softly your hair lies on your shoulders, how flustered you look beneath his gaze, how puffy your lips are, how the marks on your neck are more than what you think they are.

His hands leave your waist, though they don’t stray away from you just yet. The tips of his fingers graze your skin. Whether the goosebumps are his cause or the coldness of the bathroom, his lips twitch at that. You look at him with wide eyes and parted lips, he is aware of the fluttering in his chest when he locks eyes with you. 

You caught him staring, but for some reason it doesn’t make him want to step back or hide. 

You are so devastatingly beautiful.

So beautiful that he can’t help but want to keep staring. 

He is stuck in a world between the heavens and the earth, a world where it’s only you and him, where nothing else matters but the string that ties him to you, the string that he always wanted to deny, no matter how abnormally strong it was. 

And even now, he is still in denial, he still isn’t there, but it’s slowly becoming harder to stay away from you in a much more intimate way. 

“Steve,” you whisper, slowly pulling him back on solid ground. 

He blinks, his eyelashes kissing his skin as he slowly awakens from his trance like state. The beating of his heart becomes stronger when he notices the softness in your eyes. 

“Yes?” He whispers, squeezing your elbow as he feels the urge to shower your body with nothing but kisses, your bare skin looking so delicate to him. 

“I-I’m cold.” 

“R-Right,” he murmurs, shaking his head. 

Steve steps to the side, and his hands leave your body, but he offers his hand out for you as you step closer to the bathtub. You take it, grasping it tightly as you lift your leg, pushing through the soreness, you get inside and let the warmth embrace your aching body. You sink down into the water, sighing in contentment at the comforting feeling. You slowly let go of his hand, and bring it up to your hair. 

“Oh wait, you probably don’t want to get it wet again,” Steve mumbles, as he looks around the room, knowing that you left your hair clip here after your shower last night. He finds it on the counter and reaches for it. 

“Oh yeah,” you nod, turning your head, you eye the claw clip in his hand and lift your hand up to take it from him, but Steve only shakes his head. 

“Let me,” he whispers as he kneels down behind the bathtub, he gathers your hair and runs his fingers through it, making sure to get all of it, his fingertips touch your cheeks as he reaches for the front pieces as well, only for them to fall back in place.

You swallow harshly as your heart nearly leaps to your throat, his actions making the water feel ten times hotter, goosebumps growing on your skin even beneath it.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, his breath hitting your bare shoulder as he puts your hair up and secures it with the clip – effortlessly. 

You’re a little caught off guard by… well everything. 

“I-I…” You stutter, unable to form a word, let alone a sentence. 

“I’ll go make you something,” he announces, squeezing your shoulders as he gets up again. He looks down at you, lips curling into a smile. You’re still sitting with your back straight, your body now hidden beneath the bubbles, the front pieces of your hair hanging loosely in front of your face, framing it perfectly. You are staring at him, eyes filled with surprise and nervousness. The latter emotion matches his own, he had never done these things for anyone before, not even Nancy. 

She was his high school sweetheart, they were barely eighteen when they dated. She wasn’t allowed to stay over, and the few times she sneaked out of her house to do so, she went back home early in the mornings so she wouldn’t get caught, but he could count these few times on one hand. 

He never prepared baths for her, he never did her hair, he never made her breakfast, he never touched and kissed her the way he did with you. 

And despite the nervousness that is deep inside, he can’t help but feel a little giddy too. Heat rushes to his cheeks the longer he stares at you. 

“Okay,” you whisper, blushing as you look up at him with a shy smile, “thank you, Steve.”

He nods at you, his own cheeks glowing with color, “you’re welcome, Blondie,” he winks at you, before he forces himself away from you. He turns around and walks out of the bathroom.

You stare at the door he just closed, your mouth ajar, your eyes wide. 

Are you truly awake? 

When he held you in his car last night, and he treated you so gently, you were already so caught off guard, but this, this is something else, this is something new, and you don’t know what to think of it. 

You don’t want to get your hopes up, but you also don’t want to ruin the moment by overthinking, and hurting your own feelings. 

So despite the gnawing feeling in your chest, you take a deep breath and close your eyes, you relax your shoulders and lean back, trying to enjoy this moment without your doubts getting in the way. 

You breathe in the sweet scent and sink deeper into the hot water, relaxing as best as you can as you let your mind rest. You let the minutes pass, and enjoy only this moment, not letting your negativenss take over.

Your teenage self would jump and scream in joy if she saw you now.

Not only does he somewhat like you now, he also does things only a boyfriend would and should do, and you can’t help but love every second of it, even when the dark sadness tries to cast shadows over the golden lights that take over, every time you let yourself feel what you desire, deep down. 

The water feels nice on your skin, and on your sore body, you almost don’t want to get out, but after a while, your tiredness seeps back in, and you begrudgingly push yourself out of the water, you wrap a towel around your body, and dry yourself off. You drain the bathtub and slide open the window to let some fresh air in, the fog from the heat lingering in the room and on the large mirror. 

When you step out into the hallway, your mouth waters and you instantly feel the hollowness in your stomach when the smell of waffles reaches you. You haven’t eaten since your late lunch, the day before, and Steve had worn you out. You are starving. 

You quickly make your way into his bedroom, surprised to see the bed already made. 

He laid out some clothes for you, another one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers. A smile tugs at your lips, you hold the towel tightly against your chest as you make your way over to his bed. You remove the claw clip from your hair, and throw it on the mattress as you reach for his shirt. 

It smells nice, clean, like fresh laundry detergent and still like him. Your heart always skips a beat when you wear something that belongs to him. Removing the towel, you put his shirt on and then his boxers, adjusting them a little so they fit you better. You walk over to his mirror, and take a look at yourself, a gasp nearly falling from your lips as you eye the marks on your neck, somehow they have gotten even darker. You will have trouble covering that up. 

You fix your hair and smooth it out, before you leave the room and make your way towards the stairs. You truly underestimated the ache in your legs though, the moment you take the first step down, your knee nearly buckles, causing you to hold onto the railing a little tighter. 

You don’t know how you make it to the kitchen, but after walking down in slow motion, you step into the large room slowly. 

Steve is standing with his back to you, a plate of waffles before him as he pours batter into the waffle maker. He changed into a pair of gray sweatpants.

Your stomach growls at the sight and the smell of your favorite breakfast food. 

He turns around when he sees you from his peripheral vision, a chuckle falling from his lips when he notices the pained look on your face. 

“I need a break of two days,” you grumble as you make your way over to the kitchen table, “I’m not even going to suck your dick, your hand will suffice.” 

Steve chuckles even louder than before, the smugness in his eyes fading away when he takes in the sight of his clothes on your body. 

You groan loudly as you take a seat. 

“Two days?” He asks, tilting his head at you, “you’re killing me here, Blondie.”

You raise your head and meet his gaze, glaring at him playfully, “my pussy feels like it’s going to fall off, Harrington.” 

He looks down, hiding the smirk on his face, “she had a good time.” 

You can’t help but snort. 

You crane your neck, looking at the plate before him, excitement flashes in your eyes, “I love waffles.”

“I know you do,” he says, smiling. “What do you want with them, berries and syrup?” 

You try to hide the blush that creeps up on your face, you try to swallow the feelings that take control of your body. 

"Yes, please."

He nods at you, before he points at the coffee pot, “want some?” 

“Mhmm. Creamer and two sugars–”

“I know how you like your coffee, Blondie.” 

He doesn’t wait for your reaction, he turns his back to you, and he opens the cupboard, taking out the mug he for some reason always chooses for you, he places it on the counter and starts preparing your coffee. 

You blink. 

Straightening your back, you place your hands on the counter, fiddling with your fingers as you watch him. 

He memorized how you like your coffee? 

The fluttering in your chest starts driving you crazy, it’s nothing you’re not used to, but his kindness and the gentleness he treats you with this morning takes everything beyond what you had felt before. 

A part of you wants to ask him if he hit his head, if he is mistaking you for someone else, or if the sex was so good that he somehow developed more than just lust for you. 

But you don’t want to ruin the moment and risk losing this.

If you were a different girl, you could have this every day. 

But you’re you, and you only get this now, maybe it’s a one time thing, or maybe it’s something new in your ‘relationship’, and if it is, you will cherish any moment he will give you, for as long as he is willing to have you. 

Steve places the mug in front of you, blessing you with a sweet smile before he returns to finish the rest of the waffles as he pours the last of the batter into the maker. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, wrapping your hands around the warm mug, you raise it up to your lips and take a sip. 

Steve grabs a plate and begins to fill it up with fruit he already washed and prepared. He places the fresh waffles on the plate and grabs the bottle of syrup, he makes his way over to you, and places the plate in front of you. 

You put the mug down and raise your head to look at him, “that looks so good,” you smile, pulling the plate closer and reaching for the fork. 

Steve smiles back at you, his chest bubbling with something at the excitement in your features. 

He places the syrup in front of you, and returns to the counter to fill up his own plate with berries and waffles. He grabs it and reaches for a jar in his cupboard before he makes his way back to you and joins you at the round table. 

“That’s all for you, Blondie.” He points at the stacked up waffles he left on the counter. 

“All for me?” You chuckle, before you take the first bite, eying the jar of nutella he placed on the table. 

“Gotta get the energy back in you,” he smirks, watching your reaction as you start chewing. He licks his lip, smiling when your eyes widen. 

“Oh my god, Steve.” You hold your hand in front of your mouth after swallowing the first bite, looking at him in awe. 

“That’s how you sounded last night,” he wiggles his eyebrows. 

You shake your head as you look into his hazel eyes, smirking at him despite the flustered look on your face, “I think the waffles are better.” 

He raises his eyebrows at you, “oh?”

You nod, taking another bite. 

He chuckles at you as he grabs the nutella, he opens the lid and picks up his butterknife. Scooping out some of the chocolate, he starts spreading it on his waffle. 

“You eat your waffles with nutella?” 

“Yeah, it tastes amazing, Blondie.” 

“Does it?” You ask, tilting your head as you pop a berry into your mouth, you watch him. His brows furrow in concentration and his tongue pokes out between his lips. His hair is messy, slightly wavy even. He looks so cute like this. “I’ve never tried that before.”

He raises his head, looking at you in surprise, “you haven’t?” 

You shake your head, “no, I don’t even remember the last time I had nutella, Eddie ate like the whole jar I had in my kitchen, he used it as a dip for his pretzels,” you chuckle, “and then he ate the rest with a spoon… I don’t know how he didn’t get sick.” 

“Eddie could eat straight sugar, and he wouldn’t get sick, don’t know how he’s still healthy,” Steve chuckles as he cuts a piece of his waffle, he places a raspberry on top of it before he picks it up with a fork and surprises you yet again, when he offers you the bite, bringing the fork up to your mouth. 

You nearly choke on the berry you just swallowed. 

“Try it.” 

Blood rushes to your cheeks, and your heart nearly shoots out from its place. 

He surely had never done anything like this before. 

Ordering food and offering snacks after sex? Sure. Feeding you food from his plate? Never. 

He looks at you expectedly, not even noticing just how flustered you are by such a small and simple action. 

You blink, shaking off the nervousness that still lingers deep, you part your lips and lean closer to take the bite, you still look at his eyes and watch how he stares at your lips. 

The sweetness of the waffle, the chocolate and the freshness of the berry, burst in your mouth, creating the perfect combination. Your eyes widen, and you sit back as you hold your hand in front of your mouth after releasing the fork from your lips. You moan at the taste and take your time savoring the flavors.

Steve’s lips curl into a smile, his soft eyes stare at you as he brings the fork back to his place, taking a bite of his food as well, he keeps his eyes locked on you, enjoying your presence more than ever, this morning.

Steve always eats his breakfast by himself, it has always been that way. 

The few times his parents were home, they didn’t even bother to have family breakfasts, or dinner’s for that matter. 

They would go out to have dinner at Enzo’s, and would leave a few dollar bills for him, so he could order takeout – as though he didn’t learn to cook for himself as a teenage boy, but his parents never knew that, and they still don’t. He hadn’t seen them in a while, and the last phone call must’ve been months back. 

But he likes this, he likes having you around, he likes sitting at the kitchen table with you, like it’s the most normal thing for the both of you. 

“Not to feed your ego, but these waffles are better than the ones at the diner… or even the ones my sister makes.” 

He smiles at you, “really?” 

“Mhmm,” you nod as you take a sip of your coffee. 

“I uh, I tried a few different recipes, took me some time to find the perfect one,” he says, his smile now turning into a shy one, “one time, El showed up, she was all upset about something Mike said or did, poor girl was crying her eyes out. I was confused why she came here out of all places and I honestly didn’t know how to comfort a heartbroken teenage girl, but uh, all it took was some waffles to cheer her up,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. 

Your eyes soften, and your heart nearly bursts. 

The teens have found a brother in him, and he takes care of them without hesitating to. 

He is there for them when they need him, and despite the annoyance he feigns sometimes, he cares so much about them and would do anything to protect them from any kind of harm. 

“That’s so sweet,” you whisper, smiling softly.

Steve blushes at your words, his own lips pulling into a soft smile. 

“You’re such a mom,” you tease him, nudging your foot against his under the table. 

“Last time I checked, I didn’t have a vagina. I think you know that fact pretty well.”  

You giggle, and look down at your plate again, picking up the fork, you continue to eat your waffle, unaware of the softness in his eyes. 

Steve’s lip twitches, he tries not to look at you for too long, but it gets difficult to keep his eyes off of you, because something in his chest, something in the very sacred spot he had been trying to keep safe opens just the slightest bit, light and warmth seeps into it, filling it with life again, making it move in a pace he had grown unfamiliar to. 

The sun shines brightly into the window, light rays hit your skin perfectly, making your skin glow and your hair shine, the color in your eyes shining even brighter. 

You sit across from him comfortably, eating the breakfast he made for you, happily. You look content, you look happy to be here, you look like you belong here, with him. 

This feels comforting, this feels normal. 

But it isn’t, this isn’t normal, and he can’t help but feel disappointed by the truth. 

He looks down with a soft sigh, and continues eating too, trying to keep the negative thoughts and emotions at bay, not wanting anything to ruin the moment. 

Steve keeps stealing glances at you, not noticing that you are doing the same, not feeling your eyes that always linger. 

When you’re both done eating, you push yourself up from the chair, ignoring his confused looks, you gather the empty dishes and stack them up.

“Whoa, no no, put that down,” Steve shakes his head at you, he gets up as well, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor, “you’re my guest, you don’t have to clean.” 

“Pfft.” You wave him off, carrying the plates over to the sink, you push through the soreness in your legs, “I want to help.” 

Steve sighs behind you, “I can do it myself, you should rest your legs.” 

“I’m fine, Steve.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, putting his hands on his hips as he watches you. 

You get the sponge and dish soap, and Steve nearly starts laughing when you tilt your head away and handle the lever carefully, opening the water slowly, clearly not wanting a repeat of the last time you washed the dishes here. 

“I fixed the lever, don’t worry,” he chuckles. 

“If you’re lying to me and I’m about to get wet again, I’m gonna fight you.” 

Steve laughs, crossing his arms over his chest, “I got different methods of getting you wet now.” 

You look back at him over your shoulder, giving him a glare. 

He continues laughing, tearing his eyes away from you, he starts cleaning up the table, a smile lingering on his lips. 

Comfortable silence hangs over the room, as you both move around the kitchen and clean up together. 

You savor every moment with him, not knowing that he is doing the same now too. 

“I owe you breakfast,” you speak up, after a while. 

Steve wipes down the counter, glancing at you with raised brows, “I won’t say no to that, but you don’t owe me anything, I wanted to do this.” 

You press your lips together, leaning against the counter behind you, “yeah, but still.” 

He shakes his head with a smile, “nah, let me impress you with all my cooking skills first,” he smirks, making his way over to you, he throws the dish towel over his shoulder, “I can blow your mind with more than just sex.” 

You furrow your brows, laughing at his words. 

“Oh?” You tilt your head, “and where’d you learn how to cook?” 

“My grandpa taught me some Italian dishes when he was still alive. And uh, my parents were never home and I got sick of eating pizza and burgers all the time, so I got myself a cookbook and uh, turns out I’m a pretty decent cook,” he chuckles, shrugging, “it’s the italian in me,” he jokes. 

Your eyes widen and you stand up straighter as you walk towards him. 

“You’re italian?” 

He chuckles at the surprised look on your face. 

“My dad’s side of the family is,” he explains. 

“Huh, that’s where the charm comes from,” you joke, “can you speak Italian?” 

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the only thing Italian about me are my relatives,” he laughs. 

“And your cooking skills,” you point out. 

“And my cooking skills,” he smiles, nodding. “I’m gonna knock you off your feet, the next time you stay over, I’ll cook you the best pasta you ever had.” 

Excitement bubbles in your stomach and your eyes light up. You can’t even push away the feelings inside of you. 

“I’d like that,” you smile. 

Steve’s eyes light up, his own smile growing. 

“Yeah?” 

You nod, swallowing the nervousness inside of you. You know that you shouldn’t get too close, that there are things that you shouldn’t do with him, knowing how it’ll end for you, but you can’t help it, you’re drawn to him, in every way and form. 

“Cool, I can finally cook for someone other than the teens then,” he chuckles, as he steps closer to you, his hands now inching closer to yours on the counter. 

“What about your parents? Do you cook for them when they’re home?”

Steve scoffs, and he rolls his eyes at the mention of them. 

“No, even when they’re home, they aren’t really… home. That one time I tried to cook dinner for them, they ended up leaving on me, gave me some weak apology and told me that they had made plans with friends already.”

Your smile falls at his words. Your eyes soften and the aching in your chest returns, not for yourself this time, but for him. 

You can’t imagine what it’s like to have parents that couldn’t care less about you. You don’t have yours anymore either, but only because they were taken from you, they always gave you love, they always cared for you. Steve’s parents are alive, and they want nothing to do with him, they don’t even know half of the things he’s been through. 

“I haven’t seen them in a while, it’s nothing new, really. And things are different now, for me at least. But, I felt really alone in this house as a teen,” he explains, looking down. “Sometimes… they were gone for so long, that I even forgot what their voices sound like.” 

You look into his eyes, into the sadness that lingers deep in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you whisper, wanting nothing more than to hug him, to hold him, to show him that there is someone who he means everything to. Your own sadness casts a shadow over you, but also the anger that you feel for the people who hurt him, that left him. How could they? How could they leave and abandon him? How could they not love him, when he is so easy to love?

You would give him everything if you could. 

He scrunches his brows together, forcing a smile onto his lips as he shakes his head at you, “it’s okay,” he murmurs. “I-I accepted that they don’t care about me. I just uh, my dad’s words still hurt sometimes but uh, I’m pretty good at handling my emotions around him now,” he admits, feeling the weight on his shoulders falling off when he says these words out loud, “he’s good at making me feel like I’m nothing though,” he chuckles even though there is nothing amusing about that. 

Your blood boils in your veins, your heart no longer beats softly in your chest. You feel the anger rushing through you, as you stare at the man in front of you, a man who was once a boy, left behind to fend for himself, left behind in this huge house that provided no comfort when he needed it, no love, no warmth, no one to hug him and tell him just how loved he is, how strong and brave he is for going through darkness. 

He stepped into an empty house after fighting against evil. 

He stepped into an empty house after getting his heart broken. 

He had no one to come home to. 

He had no one to greet him with open arms and a warm meal, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen. 

And when they were there for once, he probably thought that walking into an empty house would’ve been better. 

He is surprised to see the anger in your eyes, the downturned lips and the frown on your pretty face. 

“It’s not okay,” you shake your head stubbornly, “they shouldn’t have left you, and they shouldn’t have treated you like that, they– they don’t deserve you,” you mumble and tilt your head down to hide the truth in your face, too scared that he will see right through you in this moment of weakness. “Your dad doesn’t deserve you, none of the people who hurt you do.” 

Steve’s hazel eyes soften, his lips part, but no words come out. 

He knows that your words are mainly about his family, but also about someone else who hurt him deeply, who left a huge wound in his heart, a mark that hasn’t faded yet. 

There is a sense of vulnerability behind your voice, something that he only heard once, when you opened up to him, that one night. He watches the way you hide your face by keeping your eyes on the ground, but even then, he can see just how angry you are, and it makes him furrow his brows in confusion. 

Why would you be so upset by him getting hurt? 

Why would you care so much when you’re nothing but friends now?

“You’re–” you pause, as a shaky breath falls from your lips, and you slowly look up at him, staring into his soft eyes. You feel nervous to even utter the words that are about to come out of your mouth, but this doesn’t have to give away anything, this is you being a caring friend. “You’re too good for them, Steve, and you deserve so much better than what you’ve been given.” 

His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes begin to burn as he takes in your words, he blinks and swallows harshly, trying to keep his calmness, when your eyes meet his again and he sees nothing but the truth in them. You weren’t just saying this to make him feel better, you weren’t trying to give him false comfort. 

Now he is the one to hide his face from you, not wanting to show just how much you have touched his feelings. Your words cast a light over the deep lingering pain in his chest, he knows it won’t stay there forever, the light, but it’s enough to make his walls crumble. 

In this very moment, Steve’s feelings go beyond desire, and he feels a longing of a different kind, one that he had never felt before, and it scares him, because it’s you, it’s still you. And yet, he can’t help but want to let himself fall into your arms, feeling like it could be a place of comfort and more. 

And he wants to, he really wants to, but he can’t. 

This isn’t a part of the deal. 

He can’t hold you, he can’t find comfort in your arms, this isn’t what it’s supposed to be. 

So, despite the longing in his chest, the deep feeling in him, the want and need to do something, he blinks out of his stupor, shaking away all the thoughts and feelings, he pulls his hand away from yours that he almost touched, he looks at you again, and gives you a small smile. 

“Thank you, Blondie,” he whispers, “I appreciate that.” 

I appreciate you. 

“Don’t need to thank me, Steve,” you whisper.

You look over his shoulder, the clock on his wall almost startling you when you read the time. 

“Oh wow, I uh, I should go home,” you mumble, not wanting to leave, but not wanting to stay longer and risking losing your dignity by revealing more than just your anger for the people who harmed his feelings. 

You don’t notice the way his shoulders slump, the way he almost looks sad at your words. 

“Yeah uh, I’ll drive you.” 

“It’s fine, I can walk–”

He snorts and tilts his head at you, eyes flashing with amusement again, “can you?” 

A laugh falls from your lips, you step away from him, rolling your eyes as you shake your head.

“Come on,” he places his hand on your shoulder, and he leads you out into the hallway. 

“Are you still hosting movie night?” 

“Uh huh. So, I guess you’re staying another night here,” he winks at you, squeezing your arm. 

“I told you, I need some time to recover.” 

“We don’t have to fuck, Blondie. You can let me eat your pussy though, it’ll help her recover.” 

You scrunch your face up at his words, slapping his chest, you take a step away from him, “I never thought that you’d be such a perv.” 

He chuckles behind you. 

You look around his hallway, tucking your hair behind your ears, you furrow your brows, “wait, I don’t have shoes.” 

“Yeah, we left them in the car last night,” Steve mumbles as he puts on his Nike's, “don’t think they’d suit that outfit very well anyways,” he laughs, pointing at his clothes on your body. 

You pout as you turn around to face him, looking down at yourself, “wow, this is the real walk of shame.” 

Steve’s eyes crinkle as he laughs again. He picks up his keys, and walks towards you, turning his back to you, he bends down, “hop on, princess.” 

You purse your lips and stare at him with widened eyes. 

The nickname might’ve been a mocking one, and yet it did everything to make your cheeks heat up and your stomach to make summersaults. 

“Well, come on,” Steve waves his hand at you, motioning for you to get on his back. 

You swallow and step closer, you slowly bring your hands up to his shoulders, sliding your palms down his chest, you make a little jump and bite back the groan that threatens to fall from your lips, the soreness in your legs seemingly getting worse and worse. 

Steve grabs your thighs and rises back to full height, his lips curl into a smile when you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Good?” He asks, squeezing your thigh. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Good,” he nods. 

He opens the door, and steps out, keeping his left hand on your thigh, he reaches his right hand out to shut the door. 

“I got it,” you mumble, reaching for the doorknob, you close it as you keep your hold on him. 

The summer breeze feels welcoming on your skin, the smell of flowers and grass lingers in the air. You look up and find no cloud in the sky, only the blue and bright sun.

Goosebumps arise on his skin where your breath hits his neck, his stomach fluttering when you tighten your legs around him. 

He almost doesn’t want to let you go, but the journey to his car is a short one. He walks over to the drivers side first, unlocking it with his key before he makes his way over to the passenger side, he opens the door for you. 

“Can’t remember the last time I gave someone a piggyback ride,” he chuckles, “probably when I was twelve, my little cousin would beg me for them.”

You giggle, squeezing his shoulder as he kneels down and steps closer to his car, so your feet won’t have to touch the rough ground. 

“Well, I’m glad to be the first after so long,” you chuckle, you let go of him and place your hand on the head rest. 

“Careful with your head,” Steve says with a soft voice as he puts you down. 

You pull your legs back and scoot back, placing your feet down into the car. 

“Okay, I’m good, thank you.” 

Steve turns to face you, “ready to go?” 

You nod. 

“Alright, Blondie,” he gives you a tight lipped smile and taps the roof of his car before he closes the door. 

You reach for the seatbelt, buckling it in as you take a deep breath, though instead of exhaling again, you freeze and your eyes widen. The smell of sex still lingers deeply in the car. 

Blood rushes to your cheeks, the anger you felt in the kitchen only moments ago, now fading and transforming into embarrassment as you grow flustered. 

You turn around and take a look at the backseats, the mess that you both left behind, only making you blush even deeper. 

Steve gets into the driver's seat, jingling with the keys, he puts them into the ignition and fastens his seatbelt, before he glances at you. 

You play with your fingers, coughing awkwardly as you look at anything but him. You are blushing. 

It doesn’t take him long to realize why you are so flustered, and he can’t help but smirk at you. He grabs the steering wheel, and leans closer to you. 

“Getting shy on me now?” 

With narrowed eyes, you turn towards him as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“Couldn’t you have taken five minutes to clean up a bit?” 

His smirk only widens, eyes flashing with pride. 

“You needed a shower and a bed, priorities Blondie,” he shrugs. 

“Uh huh…” You turn around again, daring to take another glance at the mess, “also, my thong should be somewhere around here… You literally dragged me inside, full commando.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find your thong,” he chuckles, starting the car, he rolls down the window. 

“You better, Lego Head.”

You relax into the seat, and turn your head away from him, looking out the window, you appreciate the warm feeling of the sun on your skin, and the sound of music filling the space between you. 

Hungry like the wolf starts playing, and you almost want to chuckle at the irony – the song resembles the part of Steve you met last night. 

“Always some Duran Duran song in your car.” 

Steve nods, placing his hand on the back of your headrest, he looks over his shoulder as he backs out of his driveway. He glances at you with a grin, “yep, they’re great.” 

He gives you a wink as he turns up the volume, he grabs the gearstick, and starts driving down the road, puckering his lips slightly as he starts headbanging along to the music, not bothering to move the hair out of his face when it falls in front of his eyes. 

You can’t help but giggle when he starts singing along to the music. 

Your heart flutters wildly, and you bite down on your lip as you watch him. 

You realize something in this moment – his guard is down, right here, right now, he lets you have a glimpse of what he is like, when he’s relaxed, when he’s not hiding himself away from the world, when he isn’t too ashamed to show this side of him. He is willing to show a part of himself to you – someone he couldn’t even bare to be around, only months back.

And you cherish this moment, smiling brightly at the person you adore with all your heart. 

You know that you will remember this, you just hope that it won’t be a painful memory. 

You don’t want to get out of the car when he parks it in front of your house, you would love to keep driving around town with him, even without talking, you just want to be near him, you want to be with him, any moment he gives you with him. 

But you have to go, and knowing that you will see him again later, brings you peace. 

You see the way he looks at your lips when you say goodbye, you see the way his eyes flash with something your mind cannot comprehend yet, you see the way he lifts his hand up before he hesitates and wraps it around the steering wheel again. You see it all, and yet, you are still so blind about it.

He offers you another piggyback ride to your house, but you decline with a smile and give him one last goodbye before you get out of his car, and your bare feet touch the cobblestone. You bite back the groan, ignoring the pain in your legs, you shut the door and start walking, not feeling, not seeing his amused eyes as they follow your limping legs. 

You make your way up to your porch, and unlock the door. You step inside and turn around. 

Steve’s car is still parked in your driveway, his left arm hanging out of the window, he lifts his hand up, waving at you. 

A smile tugs at your lips, he waited for you to get inside. You lift your hand up as well, waving back. 

The moment he starts backing out of your driveway, you close the door and lean your back against it, not noticing the breath you are holding. 

You press your palm against your racing heart, and let all your emotions run through you, as your mind races with thoughts about everything that happened this morning and the night before. 

You’re caught in a storm of your own feelings, you don’t even know what to feel, at this very moment. 

There are so many things to process. 

Steve’s jealousy and how he reacted to Jacob. 

The possessiveness he had felt over you, and how eager he was to prove to you that he is the only one that you need. 

The gentleness that followed after, that followed into this morning, even. 

He trusted you enough to talk about his parents, to open up about his loneliness and the sadness that still lingers. 

You bury your face in your hands, and let out a loud sigh as you feel sadness and anger combining themselves inside of you. 

You throw your head back against the door, and you take another deep breath. 

You need to rest, not only your mind, but also your aching body, so you push yourself away from the door, and take a look at the stairs, frowning at the many steps you would have to take to get to your bedroom. 

You choose the closer room, and make your way into the living room instead. 

The big couch looks welcoming, the comforting pillows luring you in for a nap. You glance at the clock on the wall, it’s only 3pm, you still have time before you need to start getting ready. 

Grabbing the remote, you turn on the TV, and plop down on the couch, sinking into the pillows and hoping for your mind to give you some rest, at least until you see him again. 

You put on some show to watch, but your eyes don’t stay focused for long, sleep begins to lull you in, putting both your mind and body at rest as your eyes slowly close. 

-

You end up running late, because of your stupid decision not to set an alarm – and because you may or may not have used your sweet time getting ready, always wanting to look perfect for him, always wanting to smell good and your skin to be smooth. 

You also needed some time to figure out how to cover the marks up on your neck, which turned out to be a challenge. Foundation and concealer lies on your skin now, and yet you can still see through it. 

Steve greets you with a smug smile and a wink, he eyes you up and down hungrily before he lets you in, not even questioning why you’re an hour late, the tiredness in your eyes is a dead giveaway. 

The smell of smoke lingers in his house, the door to his backyard is wide open, and you find Eddie standing behind Steve’s grill, talking to Jonathan and Nancy.

You hear Robin’s and Argyle’s voices coming from the kitchen, but the sight of the teens is missing. 

“What happened to movie night?” You ask, and turn to face him, “and where are the teens?” 

“They canceled on us,” Steve chuckles, looking around the empty hallway, before he steps closer to you, “some movie came out that they really wanted to see.” 

“Oh–”

Steve wraps his arm around your waist, surprising you by pulling you into his chest, he slides his palm down your lower back. 

Your eyes widen a little as you look into his, the smell of his cologne lingering on him and his clothes, his hair is perfectly styled again – perfect to be ruined by your hands. 

“Steve,” you whisper as your cheeks heat up. 

“Are you feeling okay, Blondie?” He asks, hand coming to a rest over the pockets on your jean shorts. 

No, no you don’t feel okay when he does things like this. 

“Mhmm,” you nod. 

The look in his eyes is a smug one, his lips are curled into a satisfied smirk when he takes a look at your neck – his touches and glances are already setting your skin on fire, and you have only arrived. 

His hand leaves your body, and he steps away from you when the sound of footsteps near the hallway. 

You clear your throat, and turn your face away from him, just as Robin comes out of the kitchen, plates and glasses. Her eyes light up at the sight of you.  

“Oh, hey!” She grins at you, “are you feeling better today?” 

You nod, feeling bad about lying to your friends – but when have you ever been honest? 

“Much better.” 

“Good, I’m glad,” she nods, “we decided to do a barbecue instead of movie night, so I hope you’re hungry.” 

“Very, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” 

Steve smiles beside you – something that Robin doesn’t notice, despite the very deep curiosity that still lingers inside of her when it comes to Steve’s secret. 

“Come on, we set everything up already,” Steve says with a soft voice as he gestures to the backyard. 

“Yeah, Argyle is attempting to make cocktails.”

You give them both an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry I didn’t help, I passed out on the couch earlier and forgot to set an alarm.” 

“Nah, it’s fine, Blondie. You needed your rest,” Steve mumbles, giving you a sly smirk that he hides from his best friend. 

“Yeah, and we had enough hands to help out!” Robin smiles, “it was spontaneous anyways!” 

She is so unaware of the meaning behind Steve’s words, and you are glad that she is. 

“I’ll make sure to make it up with some dessert next time,” you chuckle. 

You all step out into his backyard, the evening sun is hidden behind all the trees surrounding his backyard. The round table is almost fully set up with food, the mouth watering smell of barbecue makes your stomach growl. 

Robin places the drinks on the table.

Steve taps your shoulder, and he leans closer to you, “take a seat, your legs are still shaky,” he teases, giving you a wink before he steps away from you, “I’m gonna get the drinks, I’ll be right back.” 

You breathe in shakily. 

You already know that Steve will tease the life out of you tonight.

And you don’t know if you have the strength to tease him back at all. 

“Oh hello there, sweetheart.” Eddie grins at you, making his way over as he carries the tray of grilled meat, he walks past you and places it on the table, before he turns back to you. 

“Hey, Eddie,” you smile as you eye his hair, he put it up today. 

“How are you?” He asks, tilting his head. 

You don’t know what it is, but something about his smile and the look on his face, is almost a little unsettling. 

“I’m uh… I’m good, how are you?” 

“Mhmm, I’m good too. You know, I was kinda worried about you, last night. You just disappeared.” 

Guilt settles into the pit of your stomach, and you break eye contact, hating that you have to lie to your best friend just to keep him. 

“Yeah uh, I’m sorry,” you mumble, scrunching your nose, “I-I was feeling sick, Steve drove me home.” 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, “ah Steve, huh?” 

You swallow, the nervousness inside of you growing. 

“Yeah,” you nod, and look back at him. 

A knowing look resides in his dark eyes, he squints them a little, like he always does when he tries to look into your mind. 

And there is something else, something that makes you feel exposed and vulnerable, you don’t know what it is, but it does nothing to ease the nervousness inside of you. 

Maybe you’re looking too deeply into something that isn’t even there. 

Maybe you just try to focus on something other than your troubled feelings. 

Or maybe, you’re just overthinking because you are so scared of getting caught, knowing that things will end, the moment everything is out in the open. 

But, Eddie eases your mind a little, when the playfulness returns in his eyes, “I just don’t want Steve to steal my best friend.” 

You nearly breathe out a sigh of relief, you laugh and shake your head, “don’t worry, Lego head’s got nothing on you.”

“Exactly, we’re best friends forever,” he grins, throwing his arm around you, “we should get matching bracelets.” 

You snort. 

“So everyone knows that I got the coolest best friend.” 

“Sure, Eddie,” you chuckle, patting his back as he leads you to the table, and you both join Robin, taking the seats beside her. 

She’s holding a bottle of ketchup, a concentrated look resting in her eyes as she reads through the ingredient list. 

“Wow, do you guys wanna know what’s in this?” She asks, looking between you and Eddie. 

He furrows his brows, and scratches the back of his neck, “uh, not really,” he mumbles, giving her a weird look, before he glances at you, causing you to chuckle again.

Nancy and Jonathan greet you, she gives you a kind smile, while Jonathan gives you a lazy one and a very slurred ‘hello’. 

Your eyes follow Steve’s, once he and Argyle step out of the house, and join you all at the table. 

Steve takes the seat next to Eddie, and you can’t help but turn your head to look at him, though your eyes get stuck on something else – the bright pink scrunchie that holds Eddie’s curls together. It looks like one of yours, one that has gone missing, only days after you bought it on your first shopping trip with Nancy. 

She has the same one, only a different color, but hers is in her hair, and yours is… in Eddie’s hair. 

“You stole my scrunchie!” You gasp, frowning at Eddie, who’s in the middle of filling his plate with food. 

He glances at you with an amused look in his eyes. 

“Oops,” he shrugs, grinning. 

“You thief!” 

“Well, you have my bandana! I get to have something of yours!” 

“My pink polka dot scrunchie? That’s what you chose!?” 

He chuckles and nods, “yes, and it gives an edge to my outfit, don’t you think?” 

Your lips curl into a smile, you roll your eyes at your best friend. 

“Uh oh, first fight between the best friends!” Argyle jokes, “gotta bring out the palmtree delight, my friends!” He picks out a joint from his pocket. 

Steve laughs at Argyle, and at your interaction with Eddie. He leans back to look at the pink scrunchie in his hair, furrowing his brows, he shrugs at him, “I think it suits you.”

“Thanks Harrington, I’m glad that one of my friends thinks so.” 

Robin clears her throat, tilting her head at him, “Eddie, it’s– it’s pink and well–”

Eddie presses his palm against his chest, glancing at her with offense on his face, “are you telling me that I can’t wear pink, Buckley?” He gasps, closing his eyes, “that is absolute discrimination.” 

You laugh at his dramatic words, you lean closer to him and place your hand on his shoulder, “it’s okay, Eddie. You can keep it.” 

He drops his act, and opens his eyes again, giving you a smile, “well thanks, sweetheart, I promise, I won’t leave it laying around somewhere.” He winks at you, and glances at Steve, for a very brief moment. 

The night goes on, the way it normally does, you fall into conversations, you eat and drink, you laugh and share stories. 

The longing feeling in your chest always stays, and your eyes keep moving back to him, it isn’t anything you aren’t used to, and sometimes it’s even a pleasant feeling when you find him looking back at you. 

But you also cherish these moments, spending time with people you can now call friends. A circle you never thought, would even be possible for you to have. 

The Upside Down is now in the past, the events from the horrific night, now long gone – and yet, you all still stick to the weekly group hangouts. 

It has become something very important to all of you – this friend group has become something so special. And you love it, but it scares you, it scares you so very deeply, because of the someone that holds your heart in the palm of his hand. 

You know that you will lose them, that you will lose this, that you won’t have this group of friends forever, no matter how much you would like it to stay a part of your life. 

The moment this thing between you and Steve will be over, you won’t only lose him, you will also lose them, and that realization feels like a punch to your gut. 

You have no family, you’ve been alone for years now, and it has been the worst years of your life, you were lonely and hurting deep inside, but the past few weeks, have been one of the best ones, you have never felt more alive, more happy, despite the sadness that always looms over your heart. 

But the happiness isn’t here to stay, it’s only temporary, it’s only here for the moment, it’s only here for as long as he is willing to keep you. 

The moment he closes the door, you will be left a worse mess than ever before. 

-

Eddie watches you. 

Eddie watches as you move around Steve’s kitchen as though it’s your own, cleaning plates and putting them away, while Steve is wiping down the table outside. 

Everyone has left, everyone except for you and him. 

He is sipping on his coke, his eyes not straying away from you as he watches curiously. 

Steve walks back inside, he shuts the sliding door and turns off the lights in the backyard, before he joins you both in the kitchen. He glances at him as he brushes past him, carrying the last two glasses, he places his hand on your shoulder as he puts them into the skin. 

“Eddie, you uh, you don’t have to stay back and clean,” Steve mumbles, turning back to him. 

Eddie chuckles. 

“Clean? Just want to stay a bit longer with my friends,” he shrugs, looking back at you, “with my best friend in particular.” 

He sees the way you freeze, the way you slowly turn back to him with a frown on your face. 

“What?”

He puts down his drink, and gets up from the barstool. 

Without a single word, he motions for you both to follow him, unable to keep things to himself any longer. 

You both hesitate, but follow him, after a moment, giving each other confused looks when he leads you upstairs and into Steve’s bedroom. 

He stops in the middle of the dark room, Steve switches the light on, and he shakes his head at the metalhead, pure confusion takes over his face when Eddie smiles smugly at the both of you. 

“See… I lied a little bit before,” he starts, taking a deep breath, “I didn’t steal your scrunchie.” 

Eddie almost wants to laugh at the comical frown on your face, and how you throw your hand up to point at his hair, while Steve looks at you.

“What the fuck do you mean!? It’s in your hair, Eddie!”

He nods, scoffing slightly as he starts to take it out, letting his hair fall loose around his face, “well you see, I didn’t steal it, rather, I found it. Right–” He pauses as he walks over further into Steve’s room, turning away from the both of you, he slams the scrunchie on the dresser and turns back, the smile now missing, “--Here.”

You freeze, completely. 

You don’t even feel the fear rushing through you, or the shock that grips at your body, you stare at Eddie dumbfounded. 

The feelings inside of you earlier, weren’t for nothing, after all. 

He knows. 

He knows everything. 

He found out about you both, he found out because you weren’t careful, because you were dumb, because you made a stupid mistake. 

Steve blinks. 

Blood rushes to his cheeks and raises his hands up at Eddie, shaking his head, “okay listen, this isn’t–”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him, and somehow that’s enough to make Steve shut up – for a second. 

Steve huffs, lowering his hands to his hips, he takes a deep breath. 

“We are not – look, this is just coincidence.” 

“Right!” Eddie spits in a rough voice, nearly yelling as he glares at the both of you, “like the coincidence of you two not being able to hang out at the same time on some nights where we are all together? Coincidence of you–” he points an angry finger at you, “having hickeys all over you, and you–” he moves his attention on Steve, “having scratches on your fucking arms and back!” 

He shakes his head again, and glances at you, “coincidence like last night, when I thought that you left with Jacob only to find out that you left with Steve – oh, oh! And not because you were feeling sick! You two have been screwing around and coming up with the shittiest dumbest lies, I mean Heidi and Chandler, are you fucking serious?” 

You look down, hiding your face from your best friend. 

You feel ashamed for lying to him. 

You feel scared to lose him now. 

Steve is quiet beside you, looking like a deer caught in headlights as he stares at Eddie. 

“You are both so goddamn obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t figure this shit out before!” He laughs in disbelief. “You always look like you’re ready to jump each other’s bones – jesus christ.” 

“Dude,” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it’s just, we uh, we wanted to keep this a secret but uh… guess we should’ve been more careful.”

Eddie throws his arms up, looking between you bewildered, “uh huh, so you went from hating each other to being lovesick, horny idiots?” He snort, not quite believing what he’s seeing, what he’s hearing, “so, are you two gonna keep lying, or finally admit to me that you are dating?” 

Your eyes widen, and your head snaps up, your lips parting in surprise. 

“Dating?” Steve scoffs, chuckling a little as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Fuck no, it’s just sex.”

Eddie opens his mouth again, but his words get caught in his throat when he glances at you, and sees the look on your face, the pained frown, the sadness in your eyes and the way the tension in your shoulders falls. You lower your head, and stare blankly at the floor, not saying a single word. 

He had seen you like this before. 

He had seen this sadness before – that night when Steve had lost his temper, and he hit you with harsh words. 

I would be surprised if anyone ever loved you at all.

Oh.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, the realization that floods through him, isn’t easy on him when he sees just how hurt you are by Steve’s words. 

There is only one lovesick person in this room, and it isn’t Steve. 

He nearly wants to growl at him, slam him against the wall and tell him to stay away from you. 

“Look, we’re just having fun, and we didn’t want this to get in the way of things… so… it’s just between Blondie and I,” Steve shrugs, unaware of the anger that boils inside of the man before him. “We’re causing no harm.”

Right, no harm at all. 

It’s only your heart that he’s breaking. 

Eddie doesn’t even need the confirmation, he can read you like an open book. 

“Right?” Steve nudges your shoulder. 

You nod, “right.”

“So uh… I think it should stay between us,” Steve points between you and himself, not seeing the look on your face, not seeing the look on Eddie’s face. “And uh, it’d be nice if you kept this to yourself.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie nods, clenching his jaw. 

He can tell that you don’t want to be here anymore, that you’re getting restless as you begin to bounce your knee and to blink quickly. 

You want to go, and Eddie does too – or else he will do something that he will come to regret. 

“Yeah well, you keep doing your thing then,” Eddie mumbles, unable to look at him for longer than a second, before the anger worsens, “I don’t know how I feel about this, but uh, it’s none of my business. Just please stop lying to me.” 

Steve runs his fingers through his hair, sighing, “yeah, sure.”

“I should go now,” Eddie mumbles, and he glances at you again, pointing his finger at your face, “and you’re coming with me.”

He gives you a stern look, one that stops Steve from asking any questions, from asking you to stay. 

Eddie doesn’t want to leave you with the guy, that is clearly hurting you. He might not know it, but Eddie isn’t blind, and he knows that you staying here won't end well tonight, because the pain in your features is way too visible, and he can tell that you don’t want Steve to see, by the way you're hiding your face from him. 

Eddie blinks, not realizing that he is still glaring at Steve, his protectiveness growing stronger in him. 

“Alright, let’s go,” he mumbles. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, turning around, you keep your head low, “bye Steve.” 

He watches you both closely, the way you quickly make your way out of his room and into the hallway, hurrying down the stairs like you’re running away from something – like you’re running away from him. 

And Steve, he opens his mouth as his eyes follow you, but he shuts it again, his throat bobs as he swallows. His shoulders fall and a sigh falls from his lips. 

Eddie steps closer to him, and Steve turns to face him, he raises his brows at the warning look in Eddie’s deep brown eyes.

“I’m going to kick your ass if you hurt her, Harrington.”

Steve has never been afraid of Eddie – well, maybe those two times when he slammed him against the wall. 

“It’s just sex, Munson,” he says, with an unsure tone in his voice, and a bitter taste on his tongue, that he swallows harshly. “Nothing more.” 

If Eddie wasn’t so focused on your feelings and on the anger in him, he would’ve seen something other than lies in Steve’s eyes. 

“Mhmm, right.” Eddie nods, and steps away from him. “Well, good night.” 

He wants to stay longer, to interrogate him further and find out more, but talking to you is more important to him now, so he follows you, hoping that you didn’t make a quick escape already. 

But he finds you in the driveway, with your arms crossed over your chest, you lean against your car as you wait for him. 

Eddie approaches you slowly, not needing to make up his mind about what question to ask first – it already lies on the tip of his tongue. 

You drum your fingers against your elbow, your knee still bounces, your chest heaves up and down heavily. 

No words are spoken when he finally halts in front of you, the only sound between you both is your breathing, the wind rustling in the trees and the crickets. 

You look at Eddie through your lashes, nervous to even say a single word. 

He pities you in this very moment, because he knows how you feel. 

“When were you going to tell me?” 

“What?” You ask in a small voice. 

“When were you going to tell me that you’re in love with Steve?” 

You draw back, and your eyes widen. 

You knew that he would confront you, but you didn’t expect him to confront you like this. 

Your heart drops to your stomach, as the lump in your throat grows. 

“I-I…” You stutter, shaking your head at him as you search for words in your mind, for lies to feed him, so your heart can rest, but your mind is empty, the lies are gone, and all you can do is panic as your eyes start burning, “I don’t… I’m not…” You can’t even utter those words, you can’t even lie to save yourself, you can’t even say that you aren’t in love with him, because saying that, would hurt more than this reality. 

And yet, you still want to deny, but all you can do is shake your head. 

Eddie’s eyes soften, he sighs when he sees just how much pain there is in your glassy eyes. 

Eddie knows that there is more, much more. 

These feelings aren’t newfound, these feelings are so very deep, these feelings are years old. 

He licks his lips, and takes a deep breath. 

“That’s why you jumped into the lake with no doubt, that’s why you grabbed him at the hospital, that’s who you got all dressed up for at Hopper’s and Joyce’s party,” he pauses as his face saddens, “that’s why you looked like the world fucking collided when he said it’s just sex.”

A tear falls from your eyes, and slips down your cheek. 

Your bottom lip begins to quiver in fear, knowing that this very fragile thing between you and Steve, is now even more frail than before. 

You’re a little shocked by how perceptive Eddie is of you, just how Billy was. 

He takes a step closer to you, bringing his hand up to your shoulder, hoping to bring you comfort. 

“Eddie,” you whisper with a trembling voice as you look into his eyes through your blurred vision, “p-please don’t tell anyone… I-I will lose him if the others find out. And this is the only way I can have him.” 

Eddie’s heart breaks for you, the desperation in your eyes and your voice, your words showing him just how deep your feelings are. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he sighs, tilting his head, “for how long?” 

You hesitate, not knowing how to save yourself from this humiliation. 

But, Eddie’s eyes are filled with kindness, you know that he won’t judge you. 

You breathe in shakily, another tear rolls down your cheek, but you quickly raise your hand up to your face, and wipe it away. 

“Since we were teens…”

Eddie’s eyes widen, his lips part in shock. 

The revelation isn’t something he expected at all. 

He knows how Steve treated you, he knows how awful his words were, sometimes. – He knows that King Steve never once bit his tongue, the presence of his friends only made his words more cruel. 

He fell victim to it, and you did too. 

Neither of you hesitated to bite back though, and Eddie always tried to brush his words off, you always acted like you did too. – He wasn’t your friend in high school, but he was no stranger to seeing you bicker with King Steve during classes or in the hallway. He was always impressed by your witty words, and your funny insults. 

He could’ve never guessed that you were wearing a mask, that those words were only weapons to defend yourself with, to hide behind them, to keep your true feelings a secret. 

You were so good at acting like you didn’t care, like Steve was someone you hated, like your heart didn’t break, every time you faced him. 

“Oh my god,” he whispers, sadly. 

You shake your head, and huff at yourself. You raise your hand towards your face, waving it as a pained chuckle falls from your lips, “you must think I’m pathetic,” you murmur, rolling your eyes, the tears still deeply visible, “falling for a guy who fucking hated me for years? That’s just… I’m setting myself up for failure.” 

Eddie can tell that you are trying not to break down while you’re still here, still in Steve’s driveway, where he could see you at any given moment. 

“You’re not pathetic,” he frowns, squeezing your shoulder, “we don’t choose the people we fall in love with, it’s not in our control.” 

And if it was, you still would’ve chosen him. 

That makes you pathetic. 

“I am pathetic. If I had some dignity, I wouldn’t do this with him. I shouldn’t do this with him, I know how it will end, Eddie.” 

“Don’t talk down on yourself,” he mumbles, glaring at you. “Shit, I don’t even blame you, I would’ve done the same thing if I was in that situation.” 

You breathe in shakily, blinking fastly as you feel your breakdown approaching. 

“I-I just, I wanna go home, right now. I can’t–”

“Hey,” Eddie whispers softly. His kind eyes and his presence being the only comfort for you now. “Want me to go with you? You can talk to me, sweets. You know that.” 

“Yes please,” you whisper, not wanting to be alone now after all of this. 

“Do you feel okay to drive?” He asks. 

You nod. 

“Okay, let’s go then.”

Eddie steps away from you, he gives you a small smile before he walks away and towards his car. 

You hesitate, and look back towards Steve’s house, looking into the window where the light is on. Your heart feels heavy, it longs for him, but there is so much sadness inside of you. 

You’re not stupid, you knew how he felt about you, you knew what this was to him, you knew he never wanted more, he will never want more. 

You know how this will end. 

You know it. 

But he blessed you with a glimpse of hope, this morning, only to crush it again by night. 

You knew the moment of happiness was short, but you didn’t think that it would be this short. 

You didn’t think that this night would be so much different from the one before. 

You didn’t think that it would end with you sobbing into your best friend’s chest. 

You didn’t know yet, that it wouldn’t be the last time that you would do that. 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @sherrylyn628 @munson-mjstan @maroon-cardigan @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @ibellcipem @corrodedcorpses @agirlwholovesrockstars

#dwoht -- chapter thirteen #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things angst

[baby-dr1ver]

kinktober

sleepy/morning sex

charles x reader, carlos x reader

warnings: female!reqder, breeding kink, all around smut

CS55:

Carlos is tired, a triple header is grueling. Especially when he hasn’t seen you in a month.

He brings his suitcase into your room quietly, trying not to wake you in the late hours of the night. You looked so peaceful cuddled up to his pillow, hair thrown everywhere, blanket half off and-oh. N-no bottoms on, since when did you sleep naked? 

He stalked over to the bed, stripping down to his boxers on the way. He could feel his body wanting to shut down and sleep, but his brain wanted to wake you up and fuck you softly. The latter won and he shook you gently. 

“Bebita? Wake up, I’m home.” He whispered in your ear. You shuffled around for a minute but settled back in for sleep. Carlos decided to take an alternative route. He pushed you so you laid on your back and widened your legs so he could fit. He crawled in between your legs and laid so his torso touched yours and he could lay his head against your chest. The feeling of his hair made you start to wake up, your unconscious hand reached out and pushed his head away. “Los?” You asked with your eyes closed and fingers tangled in his hair. He lit up at the sight of you waking up. “Hi baby, missed you.” He let his hand wander past your tummy, over your bare mound, and felt how wet you were. 

“Fuck..whats got you so wet hm?” You whined and tugged on his hair. “Been so long, jus wanted to mmm.” Your eyes fluttered closed as Carlos started to rub your swollen clit. The feeling of your hips slowly pushing against his hand, had him lazily rubbing his cock along the mattress. 

“Amor need to….need to be inside please” You let out a shuddering breathe and nodded. “I’m all yours baby.” The next thing you knew, Carlos had his boxers down his legs and entered you in one swift motion. You held onto the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. It was sweet and gentle just like the pace he had set. Everything was moving in slow motion, you limbs were heavy and you could tell you both were close to finishing. 

He kept lazily thrusting in and out of you when he brought your hand down to play with your clit. “C’mon amor, make yourself cum.” You moaned his name as you started to circle your button, trying ti keep in time with the movement of his hips. 

It all felt like to much, Carlos moans in your ear, the weight of his body against you, how warm he was inside you. What pushed you over the edge was the way Carlos had pulled your leg over his hip, causing him to drive into you deeper. 

“Los! F-fuck!” You moaned and raked your nails up his back as you came. The stinging of your nails against his skin caused him to follow right after. 

After he cleaned you up, he tucked you back into bed and drifted off with you. 

CL16:

Waking up next to the love of your life was a dream. Watching the sun illuminate there precious features you loved so much, the way the sheets looked against their skin, how comfortable they were in your presence. It was indescribable. 

That’s how Charles felt looking at you next to him. The glow of your sin, how soft you felt, your sharp nose and cheek bones. He knew the second you opened your eyes, they would sparkle against the sunlight. If this si what his future looked like, he was very much okay with that. 

He knew you were waking up by the way your breath changed, and your eyelids fluttered open. “Ma puce, good morning.” You smiled and reached for his hand, bringing it up to your face to nuzzle against. 

“Always a good morning when I see you.” Charles blushes and slightly pinched your cheek. He watched as you kiss across his palm and up his fingers, seeing the mischief behind your eyes. “Baby….”

“Happy Anniversary bubs.” Ah, so thats why. It had slipped Charles mind this morning about the special day. Your anniversary was sacred to the both of you. No matter where you guys were, on two different continents, racing, whatever, you never failed to celebrate. “Happy Anniversary amor, can’t believe we’ve been married for two years.” He really couldn’t believe it. 2 years with the person he trusted most, the person he wanted to grow old with, have kids and grandkids with. A conversation they had yet to have might I add. One that would get Charles hard as a rock. He’d always dreamed of being a dad, of having a kid to run home to, or to see at a race covered in ferrari gear. But, it was your body and he would always respect your decision. 

“Can’t believe you’ve put up with my stubborn ass for so long. Hopefully our kids won’t inherit that.”  Was she reading his mind? Charles looked down at the woman with an unreadable expression. “Cha? I’m-I’m sorry should I have not said that?” 

He shook his head and cupped your cheeks. “No! No no mon poussin, I just..we’ve never had this talk before.” 

She sighed, “It’s been your dream to be a dad since..well forever and I want to make that come true.” Charles heart just about melted at that statement. “I don’t want you to do it just because I’ve always wanted to have kids. I want it to be your dream too.”

She leaned into my hands and looked into my eyes. “It always has been, I just wanted us to be ready to start a family. Your at a good place with your career and we feel stable so..maybe it’s time?” She scoots closer so her body is pressed to his and he’s sure she can feel how hard he’s become. “Yeah? You think so?” Charles asked coily as he ran his hands down her body to grip her hips. 

“Yeah I do. So, you gonna fuck a baby in me Cha?” Oh.Fuck. 

He moves forward and kisses you like your gonna disappear. His mouth devoured yours and demanded your lips part so he could slip is tongue in. “Fuck amor, can’t wait to cum in you, see you grow with life.” He said as he started pulling at your clothes. Not that there was much to pull off. You always slept in panties and his shirt, while he just slept in boxers. Once he has your shirt off, Charles immediately goes for your breast while his free hand sneaks down to your pussy. He starts a minor prep before he fucks you. Charles wasn’t the longest but he made up for it in girth. You couldn’t fit your hold hand around him when getting him off and needed a little extra help before he was in you. 

“Cha..need your fingers, need them to stretch me out.” You moaned as he cupped your mound in one hand. He watched your face as he entered two fingers swiftly, and didn’t let up. Laying on your side, you only really had access to his neck which was his mistake. You bit and licked at his neck to distract you from cumming. You knew it was his weakness, his neck was sensitive and it was your way of slowing him down. 

“No bebe, don’t do this. Theres no slowing me down right now.” He pulled his fingers out of you and drug your leg over his hip. This opened you up a little more, allowing him to slot inbetween your legs. You could feel his cock drag in between your legs, the tip brushing through your folds and letting your essence drip onto him. Charles has never been in you bare. You two were always safe, especially since you weren’t on any sort of birth control, it was risky to even think about. 

But now that the outcome of this would be something you both wanted, he didn’t hold back. With a nod of your head, he sets off. The wind was knocked out of you with every thrust he made. You weren’t expecting him to take such a fast approach. 

“My god puce, fuck this is heavenly.” he stopped for a second to feel just how tight and warm you actually were. No layer separating your skin, just your gummy walls surrounding him and sending him to an early grave. 

Charles let out a string of french curses, a sign he was already close. “Cha, amor, put a baby in me. God I wanna be so full fo you, watch you drip out of me please baby I need it.” You took his hand and pressed it into the bulge in your tummy. “I know bebe, almost there.” he said almost out of breath. He pressed down harder on your stomach, making you feel every small ridge on his cock, and making him hit your g spot. “Can’t wait to watch your belly grow, my baby, our baby. Gonna look so pretty with your tits swollen and barely be able to put on your shoes-fuck.” Charles hisp started to stutter, and your moans got louder. He pushed his face into your neck to keep himself together, he smelled you. All of you. Your perfume, your body wash, your pussy. He couldn’t wait for your smell to change, he couldn’t wait for you to change.��

You let out a few more ‘uh uh’s’ before your body tremble as you came. You tugged on his hair so he could look at you. “C’mon amor, cum for me-cum in me, please.” With her words and the way she tugged on his hair, he shot his cum inside her with a shout. It was surreal. Charles could feel their cum mixing together, as he kept it all inside her, determining to make it stick. 

“You know, it might not take the first time.” She was panting as she looked down at the damage. There she goes reading his mind again. 

‘Yeah but, you can’t be to careful right?” 

A/N: hey everyone! I know some people wanted Lando in this but, I’m gonna combine the sleepy sex with shower sex! So it’ll happen i swear. Mwah, love you all <3

#formula one #formula one imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut

[qatarsprint2023]

Birthday morning— OP81

Waking up early isn't Oscar's thing, especially not on his birthday, but he's always, always up for cuddles — Oscar Piastri x f!reader, sleepy Oscar, no use of y/n, implied nsfw content word count: 1.6k a/n: Please ignore that I didn't actually post this on his birthday because I kinda forgot I wrote this in the first place

A soft groan slips past your lips as you slowly wake up, the sun tickling your face. You try to stretch your body but find yourself trapped in Oscar's arms. His embrace is nice and cozy, his bare chest warm against your skin.

Your eyelids flutter a little as you try to get used to the light filtering into the hotel room through the small space by the window you must've forgotten to cover with the curtain last night after you and Oscar got back from the track.

Instinctively your hand reaches for your phone and you squint as the screen lights up, displaying that one picture of you and Oscar his mum took when you were in Australia over Christmas. It was very weird celebrating Christmas in the middle of summer at first. Well, for you at least.

Your eyes flick up to the time. 7:12

With a sigh you let your head fall back onto the soft pillow. Oscar's got you trapped in a hug and you can't even get up to close the curtain in order to darken the room, so going back to sleep is going to be impossible. Great.

You turn in Oscar's embrace so you're facing his chest that rises and falls gently with every soft breath he takes. His hair is a little tousled and his face squished against the pillow. He looks so beautiful with the light from outside gently illuminating his skin in a soft morning light.

Your eyes travel over his features that look so gentle and innocent as he sleeps— he's got a bit of acne like so many people your age, the freckles that adorn his cheeks aren't that visible yet, but as soon as summer comes around and he sees some sun they'll be more noticeable. His skin is smooth, the stubble he was trying out now gone after you convinced him to shave it.

You let your eyes travel down to his arms as you lazily trace your index finger along one, noticing the firm muscles that tense and relax under your touch until you reach his hand. Your hand reaches for his and you absentmindedly start playing with his fingers, admiring how nice his hand looks.

A quiet groan escapes you as your eyes land on the window again. Sleep isn't on the table anymore. Once the sun is up, that option is out the window.

Your finger trails up Oscar's left arm once more, gently grazing his skin with your nail as you do so. He stirs a bit, a quiet grumble making it's way past his lips.

"Happy birthday," you greet him softly as a smile spreads across your face, careful not to startle him. Your boyfriend however only lets out a soft hum of acknowledgement and keeps his eyes closed as he pulls you in closer and buries his face in your neck.

"Come on," you giggle a bit and brush some of Oscar's hair away from his forehead, a soft smile making its way onto his features at the tender touch. "It's your birthday."

"No..." his voice is drowsy, a bit of a lazy whine as his lips curve up slightly into an almost pouty expression.

The sheets rustle a bit as he shifts in bed, trying to get closer to you. His body is so warm, his skin so soft, and you can't help but smile as you wrap your arms around him, stroking his hair with one hand.

"Yes, it is," you chuckle in reply and place a soft kiss against his temple. "And I'm not gonna let you have a boring birthday morning before Qualifying."

"Can it be boring if I'm just with you?" he mumbles, his words muffled and barely understandable with his face pressed against your neck.

Oscar lets out a soft happy sound and his hand squeezes yours, pulling it towards him. "Mh... comfy..." he mutters and moves his head out of the crook of your neck a bit, only one eye open. "What time is it even?"

His words are laced with sleep, his voice raspy, coated thickly in his accent. It always comes out more when he's just woken up.

"Like, 7:15?" you reply and shrug, not bothering to actually check. "Come on, Osc.. Be excited or something."

"I don't wanna..." his words trail off as he mutters something else from under the blanket he's got pulled up over his chin. "It's too early... And you're comfy." In a smooth motion, he runs his hand up your torso to give your waist a gentle squeeze and feel your soft, warm skin against his.

"And you're being boring," you sigh and let your head drop against his. "What if I had something planned, mh?"

A lazy chuckle leaves Oscar's lips as he snuggles in closer to you. "What if I just wanna stay here with you?" he hums a little and lets his body sinks into yours.

"What would you even plan that's better than sleep?" he queries, his voice still a bit raspy and his face scrunched up as the light shines into his face through the window.

"I'm sure I could come up with something," you shrug and nuzzle your face against his hair, pressing a soft kiss there. Oscar's body begins to relax more, melting into your embrace as he holds you close to his chest.

"Does it involve having to leave this bed before I have to head to work?" he asks with a sigh as you start to gently scratch his scalp. "If so, my answer's no. I'd say I'm rather content here."

"Come on, birthday boy," you let out a chuckle and tilt his face towards you, your lips brushing against his. "Cheer up. You're 23!"

"I know... don't remind me," your boyfriend grumbles, but can't help the hint of a smile that tugs at his lips when yours brush against them.

"But it can't get better than this... It's warm here.. and comfortable.. and you smell nice.. what else do I need?" His voice trails off into silence as he relaxes in your arms, sighing contently.

"Aw, so sweet," you chuckle teasingly, nose lightly bumping against Oscar's as you lean forward, causing him to scrunch up his face.

"Mmhh... don't laugh," Oscar grumbles and lets out a soft whine as his lips curl into a pout. He reaches up and his hand finds your cheek, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. "I'm still tired, and you're being mean."

"How am I being mean?" you laugh and prop yourself up on your arm to get a better view of his face.

"You're literally laughing," he huffs but you know he's not being serious. "I just wanna sleep in a bit with you..." His thumb continues to gently rub soft circles on your cheek as he lets the other hand come to rest on your hip, his arm and hand curling around you to pull you against him so you can get a bit more comfortable.

"Alright, alright," you say defensively and scrunch up your face when he leans down and his hair tickles your face. "If that's what you want."

"Exactly. It's my birthday and choose staying in bed," his voice is still a bit raspy, but he's obviously no longer on the verge of falling asleep again. He doesn't seem to want to talk that much, he's content with just holding you in his arms, cuddling.

Oscar nuzzles his face against you again, taking a deep breath. "You smell nice," he tells you again as his hand pulls your hip a bit closer, his eyes closing as he leans his head a little more into you. "Like... lilac."

"I should hope so. I paid some good money for this perfume," you reply with a smile and lean in to give Oscar's lips a gentle kiss. They're soft and the way his hand lands behind your neck almost instinctively makes you feel safe.

Your boyfriend lets out a soft hum of agreement, his lips pressing against yours a little harder, taking the kiss in as he leans his forehead against yours. His grip tightens around you, holding you close as his hand finds your hip and squeezes ever so slightly, his fingers gently tracing the soft dip of your waistline.

You twist in his embrace to grab your phone once more and check the time, which allows Oscar's arms to snake around your waist from behind.

"Almost eight," you mutter with a sigh and rest your head on the soft mattress once more before shifting out from underneath the covers, finally stretching your arms.

"Hey, hey, where're you going?" Oscar inquiries and blinks a little in confusion, his hand reaching out to grab yours as you sit up.

"I gotta shower, baby," you sigh and swing your legs off the bed. "I still have to get ready and we need to go down for breakfast and you have to be at the track by ten."

The smile on Oscar's face falls slightly as you slip away from his embrace, his fingers wrapping around your own as you make your way out of the bed.

"But I just like being in bed with you," he complains somewhat half-jokingly, his other hand reaching out to you as he tries to stop you from escaping.

"Come on, just a bit longer," he whines and lets his head fall back onto the pillow where he lets his body sink into the mattress once more.

"You can come with me if you want," you suggest with a small smile and the most subtle of winks before turning to leave the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom.

At the mention of joining you, Oscar is wide awake, sitting up in bed with an excited smile as he watches you leave the room, his gaze following your figure before he rolls out of bed himself.

You feel a smile tugging at your lips as you take notice of the footsteps behind you and feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, his lips finding their way to your neck, knowing you did manage to make his birthday morning not so boring in the end.

#f1 #mclaren #f1 x reader #fluff #oscar piastri #qatarsprint2023 #op81 #japanese grand prix #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #birthday #a relationship like this is all I ask for

[peachesofteal]

Prologue: The Moirai

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 1.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: modern setting retelling of Hades and Persephone A strange dream, a strange visit.

For months, you’ve had the same dream.

You’re wandering a valley, your valley, a lush, green collection of rolling peaks, sweet grass and clover nearly velvet beneath your bare feet. The sun, high in the sky, does not moisten your brow, or cause you distress. You do not thirst. You do not tire.

You only meander, feeding the earth snippets of power, growing flowers and vines, a plethora of life, amusing yourself, as you do every night.

You roam this meadow, until your eyes open at dawn, bullfrogs and crickets and the raw chirp of birds tapping against the windowpane, brightening you to the morning better than any alarm clock ever could.

But tonight, the dream is different.

You’ve never seen so much Narcissus. It paints an idyllic picture, bright petals sparkling far and wide, blanketing the hills until they swoop low in the soft belly of the dream. They draw you in, pulling you down until you’re seated amongst a mass of blooms, Asphodelus scattered throughout, honeysuckle vine curling through the grasses, more fragrant than sea spray, filling the air with an intoxicating sweetness that you can taste, crystal like dew dripping with jasmine and vanilla.

It's beautiful. 

A creek babbles nearby, crooning in its own language, rushing trickle drowning out your thoughts and feelings, twisting and tugging until it’s hard to remember you’re in a dream at all.

Is this not your meadow? 

Is this not your own? 

The Asphodelus shivers, rocking back and forth in a cool wind, the kind that chills your skin, whips around your shoulders and tousles the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hello.” The greeting startles you, twists your torso in the waist deep flora. Rise. Instinct booms, like your mother’s chide ringing a shrill bell for you to obey.

A figure stands in the meadow behind you, tall beside the sun, rays of golden light casting long shadow across their features. You squint, but it’s of no use. You cannot make them out.

“Hello.” You mirror, palms forward, heels digging into the grass. There’s a sharp prick, a sting that bleeds, and you curse, lifting your hand for inspection. “Acantha.” You hiss at the goddess, as if she has anything to do with your dreams.

Gold runs from the wound like the creek, slicking your palm, coating your skin in ichor, your own lifeblood.

The lifeblood of the Golden ones.

Lest you forget.  

The figure kneels in the grass before you, their head bowed, black gloved hands reaching, tugging your palm upwards, dragging a thumb through the mess of ethereal life.

“I’m fine, just a prick.” You assure in the silence. There is so much light, and yet none, nothing to illuminate the face or the features of whomever it is that occupies your dream.

A fragment of your mind, perhaps. A trick of your mother’s. 

Or an interloper. 

“You’re hurt.” The dark pitch of the figure’s voice is startling. It’s fathomless, beautiful like the coast of the Aegean, guttural like the shout of death. Raw ruby, not quite plucked from its sanctuary, not quite finished or ready to be seen, a secret gem, only for you. The meadow rustles, thousands of faces in the little flowers leering, scowling, blue sky dimming into grey. Thunder shatters the tranquility, clapping in the distance, a garish boom sending electric shocks through the clouds, all manner of rumbles rolling over the hill.

Rot. It fills your soul in a flood, current wrapping around your ankles and tugging, like a thousand Oceanids lay at your feet, crying. Screaming.

But your hand is warm. Your hand is warm and it is held, for a moment, a moment in which you feel dramatically unlike yourself, unlike the fledging goddess you claim to be, unlike the unloved one you’re known as, and then-

it is cold. Your hand. Your heart. You. The being, the figure, is gone.

And you are alone.

The Greenhouse is quiet. An easy peace, so easily disturbed by comings and goings, friends and patrons, all manner of beings and others, stopping in and out.

They say hello. They ask for help, advice, favor. Some things you cannot give, even to some visitors who you hold close. Dearly.

These moments alone, moments of solitude in the Greenhouse, and some that you love the most. Moments when you're alone with yourself, your power, your connection to the earth. When you can feel it the most, the worms in the dirt, the roots desperate for water, the blooms aching to flourish. You are all these things, when you're alone. A power unto yourself. A goddess of life, of fertility, of Spring. The essential reawakening. The circle of seasons. 

The secret weighs heavily. 

But a goddess of Spring, is no mere goddess of Spring, your mother's voice echoes. A goddess of life, may as well wear a target on her back. 

This morning, when the dew still refracts the light of the sun and birds are singing, no one comes. You sit alone, pruning, detangling, taming a pothos, encouraging its lovely green vine to live on its own. It protests, and you huff at it, conjuring slivers of magic, feeding it kernels as if you care for a child, trying to encourage it to eat. 

“You must try, you know.” It curls around the back of your hand, lovely silver-white speckled leaves shimmering in the morning’s light. “You’re not staying here. The Greenhouse is full. I don’t have any more room.” The overcrowded shelves and carts agree, saplings and ivy and atropa belladonna all singing in unison, quivering voices rising in protest of the pothos’ weak effort. “See? You’ll make everyone unhappy.”

“You have a habit of talking to all your plants?” A musical voice chimes from the front door, and you jump from the stool, a book on your right clattering to the concrete.

“No, I…” Your voice fails, the woman in the doorway steps closer, allowing her mortal appearance to fall away, removing her Cloak and revealing her true identity.

The Moirai.

The Three who are One. 

She turns her head to the east, a flash of the Maiden surveying your workbench, and then the Crone shines through, all faces eventually melding into one.

The Mother. 

“Daughter of Demeter.” She inclines her head in greeting, and you blink rapidly.

“You...” What are they… is she, doing here? “You shouldn’t be here.” You swallow the fear that races in a cold rush under your skin. A frozen river runs in your bones, frigid rapids roaring, trapped beneath a thin sheet of ice, churning your power into a weapon of terror, an uncontrollable force that tries to build beneath the swell.

“Your mother is preoccupied.” She waves her hand; unease props the hair up on the back of your neck.

“What do you want?”

“To see you.” She strolls, careful, casual steps echoing off glass. “Finally, in the flesh.” The sh sound hisses, and your power pulses, pushing forward in preparation. “You are truly as lovely as they say, little Spring Goddess.”

“I’m not the Goddess of Spring.” You rebuke, and the resounding chuckle is dry wine, a tatter of bubbles that on her tongue that sours your stomach.

“You are not.” She nods. “No. You’re so much more now. You will be.” She steps closer, red lips perfectly lined and plump, pursed as she stares you down. “I’m satisfied.” She murmurs, and even though she looks right at you, it’s as if you’re not in the room.

Rain drops patter on glass panels.

“Pity.” She frowns, and then winks as a young woman, as an old one too, vanishing from sight with each step she takes to the door.

The clock ticks too loudly, and it feels like doom. Like a shattered mirror, shattered reflection, shattered life.

The Moirai have never visited you. 

Why now?

Outside, a screech owl hoots, startling you backwards, a hand rocking down to the work bench in an effort to steady your trembling legs.

“Ouch!” you shriek, flipping your palm over, a pair of pruning shears dug into your skin, golden blood leaking out around their cool metallic points. “Fuck.” Your lips cover the puncture, tongue flicking against the rivulet of ichor.

The screech owl screams.

The throne room is silent. Darkness ebbs, inky webs slithering across the floor, shadowing the blood red stone that spills from the mouth of the dais, two identical, straight back chairs sitting proudly in the middle of the hall, dwarfed by columns stretching so tall Johnny swears they surpass the boundary of this realm. Their onyx marble shrouds Simon, who stands maskless, his hands clasped behind his back, peering into the pitch-black pool of liquid vibrating inside a silver bowl. 

“Who is she?” There is a woman in the seeing glass. Beautiful, bright, an overflowing bouquet of narcissus, an endless melody of spring, the promise of early death. The greenhouse breathes in her presence, all nature of blooms and blossoms straining closer, desperate to be within fingertips reach. “A goddess?” He looks closer, and Simon’s amber laden eyes affix his, broad palm tenderly cupping Johnny’s cheek. His answer is a whisper, something unearthly and severe as they are: two Kings of the Underworld, two souls twisted together, two macabre fates made one. His words are a looming promise, a vow so ruinous Johnny knows the Moirai howl and the Lethe trembles.

“Our wife.”

#peaches writes #AIV(OFK) #ghoap x reader #hades ghoap #persephone reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #Simon Riley #john soap mactavish

[mamaestapa]

Lazy Mornings|| Jack Hughes x reader

•pairing: Jack Hughes x reader

•summary: You and Jack spend all morning cuddling in bed

•warnings: fluff, jack being the cutest boy ever<3

a/n: requested by bestie, the amazing @emaanemaa aka mrs. hischier. i love you so so much🤍

You woke up to the feeling of Jacks arm's wrapped tightly around your body, pulling you close so your back was pressed against his bare torso. You carefully turned around in your boyfriends embrace, not wanting to wake him from his deep, peaceful sleep. You smiled softly as you admired how the glow of the early morning sun illuminated his features.

Jack always looked so peaceful while he slept.

You pulled your arm out from under him, reaching out to stroke wisps of his brown hair away from his eyes. Jack stirred next to you, his embrace loosening slightly as his eyelids fluttered open. He let out a yawn as his soft blue eyes looked into yours. A small smile pulled at his lips.

"Morning pretty girl." He greeted softly, his voice laced with sleep.

The raspiness of his morning voice made your heart flutter. You smiled sleepily at your boyfriend, "Morning Jackie."

His embrace tightened around you once again as he planted a sweet kiss to your forehead. You hummed contently at the feeling of his lips. Jack pulled his lips away from your forehead before adjusting the position the two of you were laying in. Once Jack was laying flat on his back, you wrapped your arms around his upper body and nuzzled your head into his neck. Jack hummed and wrapped his arms around your body.

"You're extra cuddly this morning." He observed with a sly smile. You giggled softly at his words, nuzzling your nose into his neck and bringing yourself even closer to his body--which was almost impossible, since you were practically on top of him already. Jack's hands started to slowly run down your body, his fingertips dancing along your bare shoulders as you laid in a comfortable silence.

After a few minutes of just holding each other, Jack tried to remove his arm from underneath you. The feeling of his hold on you loosening made you whine softly. You gripped him tighter, not wanting him to let go of you.

"Baby," Jack chuckled, "you know I have to go to practice."

"No you don't," you softly mumbled into his neck, your breath sending shivers down Jack's spine, "just stay with me."

Maybe he didn't have to go to practice...

Jack nuzzled his cheek across the top of your head, humming softly as he continued to stroke your soft skin in a soothing, rhythmic manner.

"As much as I would love to stay in bed with you," he sighed softly, "you know I can't Y/n. The team needs me."

I need you more.

You stayed silent. You really didn't want Jack to go to practice today. As soon as your eyes opened this morning, you knew it would be a stay in bed with Jack all day type of day. It was nearing finals week at your University so you were extremely stressed, but along with all the studding you were also trying to make it to all of Jack’s games to support him. This made you overwhelmed to the point where it was all piling up and you just needed to take a day. A day where you did nothing but lay in bed, wrapped up in the arms of your loving boyfriend.

Your silence caused Jack to frown. It wasn't like you to stay silent with him. He looked down at you as he gently brought his hand up to caress the side of your face, "Is something wrong?" you shook your head ''no". You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and smiling as the smell of his lingering cologne from last night filled your nostrils. Jack gently nudged you, causing you to lift your head up from his chest. Jack smile softly at you as he slowly stroked your cheek with his thumb. You looked into his blue green eyes that you find yourself getting lost in all the time. Jack didn't say anything to you. He didn't need to. Those blue eyes said it all, pleading with you to tell him what was bothering you this morning.

You let out soft sigh, "I'm just having one of those days."

"One of those cuddle with Jack in bed all day type of days?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. You nodded, smiling softly at him. Your boyfriend smiled sweetly as he squeezed you gently against him.

"I'm just stressed with school. Finals week is no joke," you sighed again, "plus I'm trying to be a good girlfriend and make it to all of your games."

"You're a good girlfriend regardless if you go to all of my games or not, sweetheart." Jack lovingly placed a kiss on your forehead, "You're the best, and I am so proud of you." You smiled softly at him, knowing that he wasn't just referring to your accomplishments with your studies.

"I love you so much Jackie." You said wholeheartedly as you looked into your boyfriends soft eyes.

"I love you more beautiful," He let out a soft sigh as you laid your head back down on his chest. Jack instinctively brought a hand up to your upper back, stroking your skin with his fingertips as he spoke, "and I want nothing more than to spend the day cuddling with my girl."

hi loves!!

this was supposed to be posted like weeks ago for a bet i had going with @emaanemaa… BUT LIFE HAPPENED LOL and i literally could not do anything but focus on school for a couple weeks

anyways, just a cute little jack blurb for ya to start off all the updates i’ll be posting the next few weeks ;)

thank you all for being so patient and so supportive! you are all truly the best and i’m so thankful for all of you🤍

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fluff #nhl imagines

[f1gments]

DEVOTION - Gojo Satoru

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Flushed skin, soft kisses, moments of infatuation, whispers of adoration, crossing oceans, pure unadulterated love and seeking solace in one another with Satoru.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x female reader

word count: 7.4k words

R18, slight manga spoilers (?) making out, smut, nipple licking,oral sex, blowjob, vaginal fingering, missionary, doggystyle, vaginal sex, creampie,teasing & dirty talk, soft gojo, late night sex

a/n: pls don’t expect much from this fic lol. just wanted to update with a gojo fic i had in my neglected wips. enjoy!

If you’re a minor pls don’t interact I beg.

You’ve been having those dreams again. 

The same ones where you try to stop Satoru from going to the station in Shibuya. You try to tell him that the person who’s stuck in the body of his best friend isn’t Geto Suguru, but an imposter who knew that he could manipulate Satoru by showing up that night. But it’s too late. The part that constantly appears in your visions is the one where you try to scream out tell him it’s a trap and to stop the person possessing Suguru’s body. 

You stir awake and slowly open your eyes just a little to see the moonlight brightening the bedroom. A sense of relief fills you when you realize you’ve just been dreaming again, that you’re in your shared apartment with Satoru again. You let your eyes close once more as you reach out an arm across the bed, searching for warmth. Instead, you’re met with cool sheets beneath your hand, touching the empty spot where he usually sleeps, guessing that he probably hasn’t gone to sleep yet. 

You sigh and slip out of bed to look for him. Your soft voice echoes in the hallway of the apartment when you call out his name and when you reach the living room, you see him standing at the balcony, in nothing but dark gray sweatpants. 

You’re not sure if he heard you since he doesn’t make any attempt to turn around. You come up behind him, gently touching his back with your fingertips. He starts to turn around but stops as you press yourself into him, hands and forehead resting on his back. Your eyes close shut when you feel his warmth despite how cold it is outside.

Sleep is a foreign concept to a man who barely lets sleep reach him, forever wide-eyed and watching the bright illuminating lights of the city and the few cars that drive on the streets below. It comes with being someone of his position. 

“I thought you were sleeping.” he quietly claims, his voice a deep smooth velvet.

“And I thought I was sharing a bed with someone.” you sigh, inhaling his natural scent and the sillage from the cologne that lingers on his skin. Satoru turns to face you and grabs your hand to hold it against his cheek. 

He then brings it to his lips, a small smile on his handsome features. He reminds you of the midnight sun that is beyond the horizon. His fingers are much longer than your own, the knuckles curling around your palm, almost swallowing it up whole and you find yourself thinking how uncanny it is that they fit so beautifully together, jigsaw pieces that match perfectly.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask softly. 

“You.” he replies simply before he leans down to kiss you deeply, pulling your body closely to his. He leans down, into you and quickly dusts his lips against your own, pretty and light and shooting electricity up your spine. The briefest of touches already makes you both feel utterly dizzy, drunk with exhilaration. 

Satoru kisses you like it’s the first and last combined – again and again. His cold fingertips turn warm as they cup your chin and your breath gets taken away in return for soft lips against yours, the gentle scraping of his teeth against your lower lip then the uproar in your gut takes a toll when his forehead meets yours, the same time his arm comes around your waist to pull you closer, as if he’s afraid you’d disappear. If you asked him to describe it, he’d probably say he’s incapable of doing so. 

But inside, kissing you feels like he’s a desperately dehydrated man, who discovers water for the first time in weeks and dives into the cool liquid, inhaling it until he feels full. Satisfying a yearning with an immensity that is only completely understood in all of its sensational intensity when he presses his lips to the soft seam of your own.

When the pair of you finally separate, catching your breath, you notice that his eyes are shimmering like an ocean reflecting moonlight, his white hair softly blowing with the gentle breeze. He appears completely dazed with his gently swollen mouth, intoxicated by the way you drew love from his lips with your own, evoked with the flick of your tongue.

You remember your blurry, teared vision struggling to recognize that it was indeed him the day he came home. That it was Satoru. They couldn’t grasp that it was his snowy white hair, now a slicked dark silver from accumulated sweat and drizzle, a few stray strands swooping over his sharp eyes.

A strong, sure hand brushes up your nightgown — nimble fingers bunching it into curls of soft silk and lace while your lips place themselves onto the pulsepoint on his neck. His hands go up to cup your chest where your nipples have slightly gotten hard underneath the blue fabric from his previous actions, making him grin. 

The man standing in front of you is Gojo Satoru to the absolute core, for anyone who knows him by his facade. This is the real him. But you have always been one of the special few that knew his labyrinth of a heart. The endless wrong turns and hurdles and traps. His burdens are your burdens but he never seems to think so. You also knew that Satoru had tucked his heart right beside your own and deemed the spaces between your ribs a place for it to call home. 

Your body gets pushed onto the cold metal railing of the balcony, but you don’t care in the least. As you drink in everything that Satoru gives you, your tongue slides into his mouth, eliciting a low groan that leaves you shuddering. The hands that grabbed your dress before are now pushing the soft fabric up your thighs. Higher, higher, not high enough. 

“Satoru,” you gasp as he impatiently thrusts his weight between your legs. 

“Not here.” You shake your head. “Why not?” he murmurs, kissing your neck. You put a hand on his chest to stop him and give him a look. “The neighbors could see us.” A playful smile pulls the corners of his lips up. “And? You say that as we haven’t done it in public before.” You slap a hand over his mouth. “Enough.”

You scoff and push yourself past him to enter the house. “Should’ve stayed in that damn box.” you mumble under your breath, making him chuckle as he follows behind you. You walk to the kitchen to get yourself a drink from the fridge. 

Your mind drifts to when Satoru opened up about who he was. Who he really was on the inside. The way he talked about being the strongest was like a heavy burden that sunk ships into the depths of dark oceans, that swallowed light and only provided eons of black oblivion. It seemed to hook into his bones and dragged him down, down, and at the time you wondered, for somebody who must have had the world at his feet with such abilities and power, how he could experience such a feeling, a distaste for the life that he has.  

You pour your drink into a cup and turn to look up to see Satoru staring at you with an unreadable expression as he leans against the kitchen counter in the opposite direction. 

“What?” 

Satoru, eyes still weighted with the pull of desire, gazes at your thighs, the way your dress has hiked itself up to reveal the smooth flesh further when you bend over slightly to place the cup into the sink. His fingertips itching to touch you, especially with the sensual flicker that skirts your gaze when you turn back to face him, though instead, he settles for words.

“Nothing, just admiring how beautiful you are.” he replies, giving you no time to feel embarrassed when he walks over to close the space between you both. You are instantly reminded of how kissing Satoru could never, ever possibly become old and boring. 

He brushes a gentle finger down your cheek then cups your jaw with a hand while gripping your hip with another. “I can’t decide on what I want to do with you.” 

Impending scenarios race behind your eyes, and all you can do is groan when you open them to look up at him as he towers over your smaller frame. “I know what I want,” you hum with a growing smile and brazen eyes.

“And what is that?” he hums in response, sending you careening into another plane when he brings up one of your hands to his lips and leans down to playfully nip on your index finger. 

Your vision focuses for a second to observe his tousled hair, his angular nose, and into bright mischievous eyes, blue of every dancing sky, infinite hues illuminated by newborn light. 

“Why waste time talking about it when we can show each other exactly what we think?” you tell him. In seconds, you’re lifted up onto the kitchen counter making you gasp in surprise as when the cold marble touches the back of your thighs.

A warm breath rolls down your face as he chuckles—a low, honeyed sound that took you by surprise the first time you ever heard it—before he murmurs, “I figured you of all people would take any opportunity to speak what’s on your mind.”  

You tut before rolling your eyes. “Well, now I do have something on my mind, but you’re certainly not going to—”

Satoru shuts your annoyance up with his lips again. He takes your arched back as an opportunity to slide an arm underneath your waist, kissing you deeper and rendering you thoroughly speechless. His mouth leaves yours only to descend down your jaw, trail down your neck, latch onto your pulse. Enthralled, your legs squeeze his hips. A mewl leaves your lips while your hands frantically skate across his broad shoulders, and when your nails leave tiny red half moons on his bare skin, you feel his cock harden and push further into your center. 

Seconds later, you’re being lifted up off the counter and Satoru wastes no time to carry you to your shared bedroom. 

Your back hits the mattress as a hand shoves the hem of your nightgown above your waist. Before Satoru moves any further, his lips nick your ear and cause you to elicit a soft moan towards the ceiling. “That’s it,” he whispers, pushing his mouth into your neck hard and making you bite your lip, “You sound so pretty, baby.” 

The groan you suppressed comes out in earnest, and your fingers dig into his shoulders at the same time. “I wanna hear you, too,” you admit, earning a low rumble in your ear. 

“Thought you didn’t like me being loud.” he teases. You click your tongue in annoyance. “That’s only when you talk too much, now hurry up.” 

“So impatient.” Satoru chuckles in amusement. “Open your legs for me.” 

The command makes you whine, but when you slowly spread your thighs only for Satoru to shove them wider, a full whimper leaps from your throat. A few light taps on your thigh are what you get before your lover cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not getting shy now are you?” he says with confidence and a bit of suspicion. 

“Shut up.” 

“I thought you said you wanted me to hurry up.” He says jokingly, until he notices the anxious expression on your face. 

Warm, large hands stop to rest on both your thighs. It’s not like you haven’t had sex during the past few weeks, since he returned. But somehow tonight things feel a bit different. You can’t figure out why. During his absence, you never really had the thought to see anyone else. You were too busy with missions and you mostly spent time with just Shoko or got too busy with work. Your days were filled with nothing but constant worry and anxiousness over Satoru being gone. 

No one could really replace the feelings you had for Satoru. The both of you had gone through a lot. There were too many precious memories together for you to simply be able to move on to someone else. So you really wanted to take things slow with him, just for tonight. To be able to feel all of him. To make up for all those days and nights you weren’t with him. 

“Are you alright?”

“It’s just. I want us to take our time for tonight.” You tell him simply. He immediately understands what you’re telling him and he stands to bend his body over your smaller form between the silken sheets. “I’ll be gentle then,” he murmurs before molding his warm lips onto yours once more. 

Each kiss he had given before had been full of passion, but this one is different. He’s being much more gentle compared to before. There is nothing but comfort in his touch, and you can feel any stress drip from your body and tenseness dissolve from your bones. If this is earth, then what is heaven?

Heaven is the gliding of slender fingers under your dress, looping around your lace panties. It is a groan tucked into the dip of your collarbone, a palm fasting itself against wet warmth that elicits ecstasy through your veins, the final shreds of your underwear abandoned to the floor, no longer required, never needed in the first place. It is the touch of his mouth marking fields of lavender and dusty rose across the sensitive skin of your throat.  You don’t register the way he has shifted far enough to close your legs together, slipping your panties off with ease, before widening them again. 

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Satoru kisses down your neck again, but he descends lower, his teeth grazing the slope of your breast before his mouth picks one to kiss over your lacy gown. A warm palm closes over the other, squeezing before pulling the material down, and when your breasts spill over they are enveloped with his tongue and large hands once more.  “Satoru,” you gasp, arching your back and digging your elbows into the mattress. One of your hands shoots into his soft platinum locks, and your tug causes his grips on your hip and leg to tighten immediately. 

Latching onto a nipple, Satoru gives it a hard suck while twisting the other enough to make you cry out, and you can feel your legs shaking. “Don’t stop.” you cry, gripping his hair tighter. 

“God.” Satoru abandons your breasts to the chill of the room as he goes back down between your legs. Your dress is fully bunched around your waist and Satoru spreads your thighs apart, revealing your center like a rosebud in bloom. However, the pause that greets you makes you frown and close them. 

“Stop staring like that.” You push his hands away.

He ignores you and pulls your legs apart again. “Quit it,” he hummed, sounding too satisfied for his own good. “Be nice or I’ll change my mind and make you scream instead.”

Teeth nick your thigh, and the dark laugh you hear has you growing wetter than you already are. Satoru brings his face closer to your cunt, inhaling your natural musk. 

“You smell so good.” 

You don’t know how to respond. But the fingers that slide across your folds tell you that you don’t need to, and you throw your head back in pleasure. The wetness you feel has pooled onto the bedsheets and is now being coated on Satoru’s long fingers, one after the other rubbing your clit in slow, tiny circles and sliding deliciously up and down your slippery folds.

His fingers twitch against your covered slit. They drift across it wide, up and then down, and his mouth is parted in a complete loss for words. 

You start to shake in need, but a firm hand shoves your stomach back onto the bed. “Relax, baby,” Satoru orders. “Let me take care of you.” 

When you settle back onto the bed, you squeak as your hips are yanked forward to the edge. Your legs are hoisted onto Satoru’s shoulders. Words are lost on your tongue as his hot muscle dives into your center. You can feel the way your walls immediately flex, you can hear the loud wet laps and sucking noises when he works on your clit.

He feasts on you like a man starved. 

Everything feels familiar yet new again at the same time, like you hadn’t already experienced this with him before and the sheer intimacy has your eyes squeezing shut. Moans spill constantly from your lips. 

You meet his eyes again, and he shoots you a sideways grin as you feel a sudden swipe come across your heat, making you let out a breathy moan. You feel him moan into you, sending vibrations up your body making you grip tightly on his hair. 

“Satoru,” you gasp. Frazzled, your arms flail to find anything for purchase, only to settle on the sheets beneath you, where your fingers grip tight, knuckles going white. He looks up with a hooded gaze, groaning into your center when he sees your newfound position. Your lidded eyes drink in his wet lips, and your foggy mind barely realizes that it’s your juices that coats his face until he dives back down again. When Satoru’s tongue fully presses into your core before his soft lips suckle your clit, you cry out in need for more. Instantly, that is what you’re given: long, deft fingers enter your folds to the knuckle, curling up to hit a spot that has your entire being soaring into the ceiling. Exquisite. You’re floating. There’s something inside of you winding and winding. 

“Come for me,” is the last thing you hear before your body obeys. A white light blinds you and curls your toes, snaps your limbs rigid and has your knuckles aching as you grip the sheets even harder. The loud whine you hear is your own, you recognize, and you bite your lip to smother its volume. His warm mouth closes over yours, and you can taste yourself. 

“As much as I want your pretty lips around my cock right now,” Satoru rasps into your mouth, “I can’t wait any longer this time. I need you.” 

Your fingers are pried off of the sheets—you hadn’t known you needed help with it until Satoru assists you with slick digits of his own.  

Satoru moves back to pull both his sweatpants and boxers off. Broad, rippling shoulders come down to a defined chest and stomach, and powerful thighs encase a cock so large and pretty that you can’t take your eyes off of its curve. He looks at you smugly, to which you return with a smirk. 

You take him by surprise when you pull him by the arm and push him onto the bed. 

He raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” 

“I wanna make you feel good.” 

“I thought I – oh fuck,” he hisses, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he steadies himself on his palms when you don’t waste any more time to lick a single stripe from the base of his cock to the tip before you wrap your hand around it, giving it a good tug with a twist of your wrist. Satoru grunts in response, his eyes fluttering shut as you repeat the gesture with your mouth a few times to create some lubrication for the movement of your hand up and down his growing shaft.

Satoru throws his head back with a long groan and his eyes leave yours to close shut as his mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape while your hand works. You switch between easing the tip of his dick into your mouth, circling your tongue around the head, and the tugs of your wrist until he is releasing breathy, choked sighs into the quiet air of your bedroom. 

You kiss sloppily around his pelvic area, toying with the sensitive skin as you graze your teeth across the upper skin of his thigh; He jumps a little at the movement, making you grin. You’re avoiding the thing he wants most, which is to be taken into your mouth fully. But you like the way he reacts to being toyed with too much to give in just yet— his head kicked back into the pillows, legs rigid and toes flexing, hands stilled on the covers beside him because they are just itching to grab your head and direct it to where he needs you most. 

The movement of your hand up and down Satoru’s shaft slows as you lower your face to his balls, sucking one into your mouth. You toy with it for a minute before moving to the other, all while keeping the slow movement of your wrist going. You begin to wonder how long Satoru will let you keep him in this spot, but just as you do so, he speaks up in his usual hoarse, quiet voice.

“Fuck,” Satoru grunts. “Can you stop teasing already?”

There is a part of you that wants to continue denying him, but you don’t. You let go of his balls from your mouth with a lewd pop and sink your mouth down onto his shaft as far as it will go. Satoru reacts with an outward groan and his body sinks into the mattress with relief at the warmth and wetness coating his cock.

You pull back to the tip but don’t let it leave your mouth completely, circling your tongue around and tasting the saltiness of his arousal before sinking down again. You hollow out your cheeks. The grunts, groans and breaths from Satoru only increase your desire to please him, so you fondle his balls with one hand while you work. 

Your own arousal coats the space between your legs. “Shit, baby, slow down,” Satoru croaks, hands finally making purchase in your hair. 

He combs the strands back from your face as you bob up and down a few more times; he looks torn between letting himself go in your mouth right then and there and tearing you from his lap so he can fuck the daylights out of you, but he finally makes a decision when his hands lightly push you away.

“You’re the one who rushed me.” You say after pulling back a string of saliva connecting from your mouth to the tip of his dick, and you swear you see Satoru swallow hard at the sight. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” you ask, playing coy. It takes everything in you not to smile a little at his reaction.

“Is it wrong to think you look pretty like this?” he murmurs, reaching a hand out to swipe the bottom of your plump lips with his thumb.  

“It would disappoint me if you didn’t.” you hum before going back down on him, the vibrations drilling electricity through his cock. 

No, no more, he needs you right now. 

Satoru slips his hand from the side of your face down to your chin, his thumb lightly putting pressure onto the dip beneath your lower lip in a silent demand to stop. Understanding, you come up and lock your gaze on his mouth, letting him draw you into a fervent kiss.

“I need you,” He breathes into the grooves of your lips, shivering when the tip of your tongue draws lightly against his own. “I need to be inside of you, baby. Let me show you how much I love you.”

He wastes no time to get up and grab the hem of your garment mumbling hands up before he gently pushes you onto the mattress. Satoru caresses you, holds you, like you’d never once fucked, like he never had his cock inside of you and enacted the greatest moment of his life. Your skin is an uncharted map, marked with fingers of the past that were too intoxicated to think twice, to enjoy and devour the expanses of smooth flesh. But now, he has all the time in the world to do that. Every single day, every waking second. 

Yet he still cannot get enough of you. Not even when his lips reach your throat and you are gasping into the shell of his ear, blooming meadows of lilac and blue on the delicate skin while his palms smooth down your sides. 

Your back arches off the bed with when his tongue circles around the perked bud of your left nipple, and Satoru situates his thigh between yours so that each time you move, your heated center grinds against his leg. He switches between the two — sucking, grazing and tweaking your nipples with his hands and placing pressure on your most sensitive parts until a strangled moan escapes your throat.

“God, that’s hot.” He grins up at you, moving from your chest to slant his lips against yours.

Taking the length in his palm, Satoru hovers above your still form, eyes never leaving your body. Obeying, you push yourself up into the plush sheets, gasping in surprise when a strong body immediately covers yours right after. “You really are impatient.” 

“I am.” He smirks. Your arms are thrust above you, and you let out a quick mewl as your wrists are pinned together with one of his hands. “And you are going to learn why in a second.” 

Months of tension, loneliness, regret. All of them melted away at the sound of you calling out his name. With the strong arms caging in your vision, veins prominent under their skin, Satoru steadies himself as he slots his cock in between your legs. Your moan at the feel of his nakedness escapes in a soft puff, and your nipples pebble in anticipation. Your boyfriend gazes unabashedly at your sex. When his lidded eyes come up to meet your curious ones, he swoops down to claim your mouth again, tongue rolling across your lips and jutting inside to tether his passion to your heart. You respond in kind, trying and failing to release your arms from his grip above your head. When your attempts prove futile, your whimper echoes into his mouth, and his deep chuckle stirs something primal within your core. 

Satoru’s ravaging continues as he leans his sharp cheekbones into the side of your face, his tongue licking fire along your neck. Unbeknownst to you, one of his hands wanders down to your folds, and you jolt in shock when familiar fingers slide along their path.

“Please,” you gasp in his ear, tightening your arms again and bucking your hips to move anything, anything at all in response to the pleasure. “Satoru, please.” 

“What do you want, hmm?” 

Your first attempt at a response is cut off by his teeth nicking the pulse on your neck, and your entire butt leaves the bed and thrusts into his beautiful fingers, causing them to slide deeper into your cunt. Satoru’s proceeding groan is enough to have you keening back for more, but you still have it in you to answer with, “You.” 

“You already have me.” he says as a matter of factly. 

“No, I mean”—you gasp as he moves his fingers around, thumbing your clit and causing slick to gush from your center—“I mean, I need you.” 

“That’s the same thing, sweet,” Satoru tuts, knowing full well he is being an ass. “I need you to be specific for me.” 

As you feel the incredibly hard cock against your thigh twitch in want, you wonder why the hell your lover is stalling. You try to jerk against his strong restraint on your wrists again, and he laughs at your feeble attempt. “You’re impossible,” you huff. 

“And you’re going to tell me what you want, or else you won’t be getting it.” 

“Baby,” you pleaded, almost certain you weren’t capable of holding it in anymore.

Satoru shoves his hips down into yours, and the feel of his length presses into your core. You cry out in want, thrashing in earnest and groaning in a mix of frustration and pleasure. Smirking, he leans next to your ear and whispers, “Sorry. I just like seeing you like this.” 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” you huff. 

“When it comes to you? Always.” There is a brief, light slap to your cunt, and your body jolts up until your fingers knock the dark wooden headboard above you. “What do you want, sweetheart?” 

“For my boyfriend to stop being an—” 

Another slap to your aching folds causes your back to arch again, your nipples grazing Satoru’s firm chest. “Try again.” 

You suck in a breath and exhale shakily, your legs straining with the constant pressure against your core and your arms growing beautifully sore above your head. 

“I want it.” You stare right into your boyfriend’s eyes. “I want your cock.” This makes Satoru snicker before his focus goes down to your pussy. 

“Fuck.” Satoru slides his fingers in one long swipe up your cunt again before bringing them to his mouth. As he licks them clean, you let out a shuddering breath, wondering how there is still room for you to swoon. “I knew my girl wasn’t shy.” 

Instead of a biting retort, you watch as Satoru leans down slowly to kiss you once more. He positions himself, sliding his hardened length against your slick folds and letting you feel just how thick and warm he is. 

His lips leave yours too soon, but it’s to tell you, “I’m putting it in, okay?” 

When you nod, Satoru slowly enters, and he’s just as big as before only since it’s been a while, it’s a bit of a stretch. You hiss at the feeling, and Satoru is merciful in the way he releases your wrists to sling an arm behind your head. His eyes never leave yours as he pushes in, inch by inch and both of your mouths fall open at the slick contact. Instead, breath rushes out, mingling warm in the air between your parted lips as you pant in anticipation. His hold on the back of your neck is gentle, and he whispers, “Oh god, thaaat’s it. I missed you so much. I missed this.”

You hum in delight. “Are you sure you missed me and not just the sex?”

“Believe me, it was the only thing that made me look forward to getting out of that place.” he says in a teasing tone. 

“You’re asking to be put back in that box so bad right now.” 

Satoru chuckles again before he leans down to kiss you. “I’m just kidding, baby. Don’t be so serious.” 

“Satoru, you’re killing the mood. Hurry up and fuck me already.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He replies before wasting no time to position his cock at your entrance. Satoru loves how your hair is splayed onto the pillow, teeth sinking into your lower lip as he slowly slides himself into you and it makes his mouth part at the image of it. Your freed hands immediately look for solace on his shoulders, gripping them while you follow his direction and take deep breaths. The intrusion starts to feel welcoming as your cunt adjusts to the sensation, your walls fluttering around his length and starting to suck him in further. 

“You’re so tight…” When Satoru is fully in, he stays as still as he can to let you get used to the feeling. “So, so good for me,” he tells you. “Open your mouth for me.” 

You immediately obey, sucking onto the two fingers he taps against your lips. You hollow your cheeks, and when Satoru groans, you swirl your tongue around his digits.

He swoops in to steal a kiss from you again, and he digs an elbow into the bed for balance as he starts to move. You love the way his brows scrunch in concentration, the way he looks down to watch himself make love to you while in the act, the way he makes you feel nothing and everything at once. When Satoru’s small thrusts end up not being enough, you tell him to go faster. He only laughs before obliging. 

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes. The fingers that had summoned you curl around your chin now, forcing you to look only at him; his grip too strong to break free from.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you grin, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

Instead of responding, your boyfriend picks up the pace, his muscles rippling under his sweaty skin and his stray strands of platinum hair bobbing with each motion. Your moans and mewls mix with his deep groans, and you have decided that those are your favorite sound in the world. Maybe even better than the soft pitter patter of the rain that begins to fall outside. Feeling full and complete is unrivaled. 

Flushed and with your eyes squeezed tightly shut, your brow furrowed, you murmur his name senselessly, over and over like a prayer, a plea, a please, please, please that slips in breathless turns from your lips uninhibitedly. 

The feeling gets overwhelming. The more you look at him, the more you feel like you’re about to cry whenever your mind reminds you of what happened. Days where his usual corny jokes and occasionally immature behavior were replaced with days of you being cooped up wishing he’d come back to you, hoping that wherever he was that he’d be okay. You feel the incessant sting at the back of your throat as you fight back the tears that threaten to fall onto your cheeks.

For this beautiful instance in time, nothing matters, absolutely nothing but this. 

Your body is acting on instinct, moving with him and even wrapping legs around his built frame. The grunt and low fuck you get in return is a prize you sigh at, and when Satoru pins your wrists above your head again, you revel in the restraint.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he tells you, to which you respond with a grin. 

Your legs slide against his buttocks and the rest of his skin, but your muscles endure. His cock rubs against your walls in the best way possible—each stroke deeper than the last—and you know you’re close to euphoria. 

But Satoru has different plans. He lunges in with two particularly hard thrusts before he pulls out completely, eyeing your messy state as he pulls you up, shifting you so that you find yourself on your knees somehow, underarms pressed into the mattress when he pushes your torso down with your ass in the air for him. He wastes no time to push his cock into you, pulling out a cry from you. He slides in easily from how wet you’ve gotten when he fucked you on your back. “Fuck you’re so wet for me.” You hear him say from behind you. 

You gasp as you drop down to your elbows from the feeling of him stretching you out in the most perfect way. He gives you a few seconds to adjust before he starts to move, and shameless noises start to leave your mouth instantly. You feel him grab your hips, and he starts to slam you back at the same time he’s thrusting forward, creating a deepness that has you seeing white. He bends over to kiss your back, making you arch yourself more into him. 

“Oh fuck.” you drawl out. 

Satoru’s lips ghost over your ear and you can feel him smirk against your skin when he asks, “You like that baby? You’re gonna show me what I missed, yeah?” he pants.

At this point, you don’t care how loud you’re being. Satoru on the other hand is enjoying this as much as you are. Each thrust has him feeling like he wants to have it his way and cum deep inside you. He moves back to look down where you’re both connecting, taking in the sight of his cock sliding in and out easily of your cunt. His teeth are caught between his lower lip when he sees the white ring around his cock, making him even crazier. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the room, arousing the both of you even more. Your moans are muffled by the sheets as you bury your face in the mattress. Satoru’s palms imprint their mark on your hips as he pulls them as close as he can while he thrusts repeatedly into you. 

“Ah, Toru, go harder.” you cry out.

“Oh, you feel so good.” he moans as he begins to thrust harder into you. You’re too lost in the pleasure that you can’t find the words to speak. You can only afford to respond with high pitched moans every time the tip of his cock touches that one spot inside of you. You feel yourself nearly reaching your high when suddenly Satoru pulls out again, pushing you onto your back while he steadies himself on his knees. 

“Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum,” he smiles, before he pulls both of your legs apart to slide his cock up and down between your slick folds teasingly. A groan sounds from his throat, sending a rush through your body when warm lips come down to latch onto your breasts, and you throw your head into the soft pillow beneath you. 

“Satoru...” you whine. “Hmm?” he grins. 

“Stop teasing already.” you sigh in frustration. He chuckles at your neediness. “I know baby, it’s just fun seeing you like this.” You glare at him before you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Satoru takes this as a cue to take full command, settling on his knees and bringing both his hands to grip your hips as he continues to pound himself vigorously into you. No words are exchanged between the two of you, but the feelings are conveyed perfectly. Passion, longing, love. Everything unsaid the day he returned on your doorstep. 

“Oh,” you breathe, “Toru, you feel so good. Please don’t stop.” 

Everything from your hands gripping his arms to the way his cock fills you to the brim is too much, and your legs finally give and slam back down onto the sheets. 

Your body goes limp as Satoru thrusts into you, hard fingers digging wonderfully into your skin and brows knitted in pleasure. He continues to bite down on his bottom lip as he watches his cock disappear in and out of your pussy again and again, and your gaze is hazy as you watch his chest ripple with each thrust, enamored. You find sanity in the taste of his tongue and stability in your fingers grappling for mercy against his shoulder blades, close, so, so close.

You feel it before you recognize the winding. The edge you toppled from before is in reach again, and after a breathy moan you gasp, “I’m close, go faster, please.” 

God. He loves it when you get so needy, so desperate under him like this. He loves the way you call him by his nickname. It shows how much you’re tightly wrapped around his finger. He finds it adorable how one minute you’re giving him an attitude but the next you’re begging for him to fuck you. Just like right now. Which is why he doesn’t mind when you call him an asshole or roll your eyes at him when he says something stupid. Because at the end of the day, Satoru knows how to please you, he knows how to treat you right. That’s why you’re taking him like such a good girl, right? 

“Yeah? Then let go for me, cum for me baby.” he grunts, low and leaving no room for objection. One of his hands reaches down between you, a thumb rubbing your clit lovingly. The feeling is immense, and your vision blanks. Every limb in your body locks with pleasure. You can only describe the feeling as a constant wave crashing against your shore, slamming its powerful crests into you again and again. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You hear the words somewhere above you, but they’re blurry in your ears. 

Finally—slowly—your limbs settle back onto the bed. Satoru smiles down at you before asking, 

“Did I lose you before this?” 

“You’ll never lose me,” you confess truthfully. 

Satoru huffs in amusement before whispering something under his breath. You don’t have time to ask what he said before he starts back up again to chase his own high, and your body is heavy with content as you watch.

A hand threads beneath your hair to curl around the back of your neck and pull you up to press his mouth against yours. His lips are soft, and he sinks into the kiss with teeth and tongue and fire that makes your mind go blank. You let him nip at your lips until they’re swollen and sore, letting him twist his tongue against yours until you’re both gasping and his grip has turned to iron. You pour your entire body and soul into the connection, and your boyfriend's thrusts start becoming frantic and jilted. His free palm grabs your hip to steady your quivering form; your hands swing behind his shoulders. 

Fingers rake marks across his back, and Satoru outright moans into your mouth before his thrusts are so rough that your body is shoved up the bed. 

“I’m not gonna last much l-longer.” He stammers as you begin to tighten around him, letting him know exactly how close you are. His thrusts become quicker and erratic while he leans down closer towards your face. 

You almost feel yourself reaching the third orgasm of the night, but it’s him you want to come before anything else. 

And he does seconds later, his voice gravelly as he groans above your face — your list of favorite sounds forever multiplying. You feel the warm sensation of his cum shoot into your cunt. Your eyes wander up to Satoru’s face, which contorts in pleasure at the new found tightness of your heat. You use your last bit of strength to move your hips along to meet his movements, and then after about a minute he stills himself inside of you. As his forehead presses into yours, you hug him close, almost brought to tears again from the emotions spilling from your chest. For a moment, nothing else exists. Only the feeling of his bare skin sliding against yours, the connection between your legs, and the souls dwelling within appear on this plane. It’s a strange thing to think about. But it is yours to store away in your memory forever.

You both lay there in silence, catching your breath. Basking in the afterglow. Your boyfriend then turns to you, resting on an elbow. The early morning shadow that casts into the room catches onto your skin, painting it with a pale glow, making you appear ethereal. Your lips are softly pouted, dried out roses that puff patient exhalations of air in time with the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

You turn your head to him. “Satoru?”

“What is it?”  

“I love you.” 

“I don’t blame you.” he grins. You glare at him and slap him on the chest making him laugh. “I’m kidding, baby.” He smiles down at you genuinely. “I love you too. More than anything else in the world.” 

Your lips connect, they connect in warm, rosy flesh, as if nothing could ever go wrong. That no matter what obstacles you both face, what hardships you must conquer, you will always get through it together. 

The same three words slip down your face once more and into your mouth, only to be thrown out again as you reciprocate. As you both pant in exhaustion, you already feel sleep start to claim you again as the early morning light peeks through the sheer curtains.

You make love two, four, twenty or a hundred times, enough for you to lose count on your fingers and for the sun to ascend from the horizon. It is moments like this, watching you out of the corner of his eye, absolutely adoring the soft exhalations you let out and beating heart against his bare chest, that he knows what he feels so strongly within his heart is the unconditional truth.

He is helplessly in love with you.

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

[zazter-den]

Sweet Tooth

Minors Do Not Interact

Common Scents Series: Cat Bath, Sweet Tooth.

Synopsis- Izuku likes the freedom of being a very private business owner when he has dual lives to run. After all it allows him to "hire" himself as a new worker to get close to Barista!Reader- Wait, why do you smell burnt?

Warnings- Yandere, Dubcon, Stalking, Drugging, Overstim, Size Diff, Mindbreak.

Tags-Aged up(obviously), Hybrid AU, Rabbit!Izuku, Dom!Izuku, Afab!reader, Sub!Reader. Kitchen sex, Scentmarking, Creampie, Excessive seed, Undercover boss, Oral!receiving.

Word Count- 8.1K, because apparently I missed the coziness of Autumn

Izuku sat in the manager's office, the soft glow of the moon filtered through the skylight, casting a gentle radiance upon his features. Short, curly forest green hair, slightly disheveled from his earlier preparations, framed his face in an endearing manner as he sat back in the cushy chair. His emerald green eyes, filled with anticipation, seemed to glimmer and reflect the moonlight, adding a glow to his gaze.

Sitting up, he carefully removed his silver rings with practiced ease, each etched with swirling thorned vines and placed them into a velvet-lined box before making his way to the safe hidden in the wooden paneling of the small room.

Next, Izuku's attention turned to his hunting knife, a weapon as beautiful as it is deadly. He gripped the handle, his hand steady and sure, and twirled it effortlessly in the air. The moonlight danced along the metal, illuminating the intricate green thorn designs that ran down the blade. With a measured flick of his wrist, Izuku sheathed the blade, and it disappeared into the hidden safe. The compartment closed with a soft click, concealed behind an intricately designed wooden panel once again. Sealing away his secrets until they are needed once more.

Leaving the manager's office behind, Izuku made his way through the empty cafe, his steps light and silent as he headed toward the kitchen to prepare for the day ahead. The 'Lunar Rabbit' cafe's pristine jade green walls, soft lighting, and delicate hanging glass terrariums created a serene atmosphere, inviting its inhabitants to relax and escape the chaos of the outside world. Izuku being no exception.

In the quiet solitude of the kitchen, the signature evergreen scent of the café mingled with the aroma of matcha and lime. Izuku's tall figure gracefully moved around the kitchen, his large rabbit ears twitching with every soft sound. Like second nature, he set up the kitchen before taking the bright green citrus butter out of the fridge.

When it came to rabbit hybrids, most people weren't used to seeing Flemish Giants. Clad in a light green t-shirt, tightly hugging his well-defined muscles, Izuku's towering physique was more reminiscent of a predator hybrid, his strength barely hidden beneath a veneer of dorky charm and wit.

With precise movements, Izuku began preparing the perfectly striped, two-toned croissants that the 'Lunar Rabbit' cafe is known for. He measured the ingredients meticulously, his attention to detail reflected in every step. There is a comfort and tranquility in the act of creating, a stress reliever that he cherished amidst his dual lives.

The rhythmic sound of his palm hitting the dough, gently flattening it, filled the dark kitchen. Izuku's movements are methodical and precise, almost hypnotizing, as he continued to work on the matcha-lime croissant dough. His thoughts drifted to his upcoming shift with you, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of excitement wash over him.

Izuku was under your spell from your very first shift at one of his cafes. He had watched you on the security cameras for months, studying every little detail. Your moves, your smile, the way you interacted with customers. Izuku was drawn to you like a moth to flame, captivated by charm and spirit.

Izuku imagined you standing there, your lovely form illuminated by the soft café lights, under the delicate swaying terrarium spheres. He could already see himself making your favorite flavored latte, as he's seen you make it countless times on the security feed. How many times did he tweak that syrup to get it just to your liking? The thought of serving you a cup he made himself brought a smile to his face, his green eyes glowing with anticipation.

Lost in his fantasies, Izuku accidentally spilled some flour onto his t-shirt. Chuckling softly to himself, he brushed off the white powder and ran his fingers between his ears and through his short curly forest green hair, basking in the thrill of the upcoming shift.

He focused his attention on the task at hand, skillfully wrapping the mix in plastic wrap and placing it in the fridge to rest until tomorrow. Drumming a brawny calloused hand against the fridge door, he grabbed a sheet of pre-chilled blueberry-lemon dough before closing the door with his heel.

At the kitchen island counter, Izuku's hands worked the dough skillfully, his fingers deftly shaping it into perfect croissants. The dough was soft and pliable, and Izuku liked the feel of the texture against his fingertips. It was smooth and velvety, the aroma of smashed berries and lemon rind wafted through the air as he worked. Izuku appreciated scents that complimented his own. Citrus, teas, your jasmine-like signature.

Shaping the pastry mix, his mind briefly wandered to thoughts of what it would be like to touch you, to feel your curves beneath his hands. Lost again in daydreams, Izuku envisioned the feel of your silky skin against his callouses and scars, his mind conjuring images of your usual flowery fragrance intertwining with his yuzu and evergreen scent. The thought of your lips, soft and inviting, added to his desires, and his thoughts wandered to the taste of you, the way your lips would feel against his own.

Izuku's mind is completely consumed by the thought, and he could feel the heat pooling rapidly within him. He desperately wanted to trace the contours of your body, his fingertips exploring every inch, as his desire continued to build. His breath grew heavy. With a raspy whimper escaping his lips, Izuku momentarily lost himself in his fantasies, feeling bead of pre-cum line the tip of his straining erection. The excitement building within him became overpowering, overwhelming his senses.

As his arousal grew, Izuku's scent turned musky, blending with his natural citrus evergreen aroma. Izuku's eager slit continued to weep the viscous fluid, the sticky patch of his boxers trapped against the thick head of his dick. As he continued his task, every so often the precum slick fabric would slide forcefully against his tip, eliciting another deep groan from his lips. His need for you at this point was overwhelming, almost unbearable, and his foot tapped on the floor in rabbit-like frustrated anticipation.

It was a struggle for Izuku to maintain focused on his work, his mind overloaded with longing and the intense desire to fulfill every single one of his fantasies with you. He took a moment to compose himself, releasing a pent-up growl of frustration under his breath. He couldn't afford to lose his shit on day one and scare you off, he wasn't some amateur.

Knowing he must regain control, Izuku attempted to once again throw himself into getting the shop ready for the morning rush. With a reluctant sigh, Izuku carefully took out the raspberry two-toned croissants that he had prepped the day before, placing them on the kitchen island counter to be baked for today's morning rush.

Izuku looked at the clock hanging on the wall, he just needed to be patient.

⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱

When you first stirred from slumber, your first instinct was to dive back under the blankets in the pre-dawn darkness. Slowly peeling back the covers of your cozy bed, the moon cast a dim glow through the window, barely highlighting your room.

As you slid your feet out from under the quilts and sat up in the chilly room, your sleep blurred gaze fell on the neatly arranged uniform laid out on the dresser. The tan and jade green dress holds an air of cute professionalism and elegance, perfectly suited for your role at one of the 'Lunar Rabbit' cafes.

As you took off your pajamas, your gaze wanders downward, landing upon the growing bruises and scratches that marred your sore hips. You shook your head softly, a mix of emotions flooding rational thoughts. Last night with Katsuki, the tiger you shared your apartment with, had been...intense to say the least, at times his territorial nature could cross bounds. It seemed his bestial inclinations towards you often manifested in these marks and an aching pussy full of the feral feline's load. It had been necessary to join him in the bath, to wash away any traces of other scents but his own, before he was satisfied last night.

Tossing your head in frustrated resignation, you took a deep breath, attempting to push the memory of those bruises aside. You adjusted your uniform in the mirror, determination to face the day with your usual brand of professionalism. With each careful movement, you purposefully shed the weight of hectic apartment life, transforming into the dedicated and fun-loving barista that your colleagues and patrons know you to be.

The early morning air carried an invigorating crispness as you stepped out of your apartment, the pitch darkness of the night slowly yielding to a beautiful, dark purple sky. The stars twinkled above, casting a gentle luminescence upon the world below. The beauty of the early morning took your breath away.

Walking through the quiet streets, you took in the sights of the autumn morning. Vibrant hues of orange and red adorned the foliage, casting a mystical fall atmosphere all around. The gentle crunching of leaves under your feet became a soothing background melody, heightening your anticipation for the day to come. It's a picturesque scene that brings a smile to your face as you take in the beauty around you.

The short walk to the 'Lunar Rabbit' café is refreshing, the cool breeze gently caresses your skin, and you can't help but lift your face towards the sky, embracing the tranquility of the morning. The scent of dew-kissed grass and the earthy fragrance of autumn fills the air, creating a calming atmosphere.

Unlocking the door, you entered the cozy café intricately designed with a charming lunar forest theme. Most of the walls were adorned in a relaxing jade green color, with glistening glass sphere terrariums hanging gracefully from the ceiling. Creating a sense of tranquility whenever the light caught the floating gardens just right.

But it's the back wall mural that always draws the attention of customers—a breathtaking depiction of ethereal rabbits, crafted from swirling shadows, engaged in a graceful dance beneath a moonlit sky adorned with countless stars.

The careful brush strokes bring the scene to life, immersing you in a mysterious and whimsical world. The rabbits are beautifully painted, their whirling silhouettes seem to come alive under the gentle glow of dawn and fairy lights, creating an otherworldly ambiance. It's a mesmerizing sight in the early morning, one that never failed to captivate you in the dark hours.

You stepped into the dim kitchen, a sense of familiarity washing over. The soft glow of the moon outside cast a gentle illumination, highlighting the edges of the counter tops and appliances. You began gathering the necessary ingredients to create the delectable quiches that will soon grace the cafe's display case.

The movement is sudden. You only caught the shifting of shadows on the opposite side of the kitchen out of the corner of your eye. Your heart thumped rapidly against your chest as your attention was drawn to the mysterious figure standing upright near the ovens, rising to full height in a fluid motion. The towering silhouette seemed to materialize out of nowhere from the depths of the dark kitchen. For a split second, you could swear you saw his eyes glimmer in the shadows, as if they were momentarily aglow with a vivid emerald light.

The initial shock sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your previously fatigued body. Startled by the unexpected sight, your muscles tensed, ready to defend yourself if necessary. Eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the hulking man's presence, you ran through your options.

Then Izuku shifted forward, the illumination from the skylight instantly brightening his features. The ethereal glow revealed his forest green ears nestled in curly hair, and vivid green eyes, capturing the essence of mischief and charm that so often accompanies his presence. A genial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, “Mornin'!” he chirped, closing the oven behind him, the raspberry croissants settled on the racks. His soft rabbit ears entirely too perky for this pre-dawn hour.

Recognition immediately dawned on you, and a mix of relief and frenzied amusement flooded your features. A little laugh escaped your lips, laced with a touch of underlying nervousness, as your eyes met Izuku's. "Midoriya! Damn, you scared me." you exclaimed, the words tumbling out with a hint of manic energy. Izuku's grin widened as you stammered, the sound of his name on your lips seemingly delighting him. Your laughter lingered in the air, relief palpable. All you could do is laugh off the initial fright, glad to see a familiar face in the dimly lit tranquility of the kitchen.

Wait.

Your brow furrowed as confusion washed over. The gears in your exhaustion-addled mind began to turn, piecing together the inconsistency of Izuku's presence in the closed cafe at such an early hour. As a new employee, Izuku shouldn't have the keys to the establishment. "How did you get in?" You blurted out, voice equal parts curiosity and suspicion. You looked at him, searching for an explanation.

Attempting to quell any rising doubts, Izuku quickly weaved a web of deception, words slipping off his silver tongue with practiced ease. His response was laced with an air of authority, as if the decision had been handed down by corporate in a moment of desperation. "Ms.Usagiyama gave me a key," he stated, his voice confident and unwavering. "They needed someone to fill in as an overnight baker, and it seems I was their best option."

When was the last time he had called her anything but Mirko?

Your surprise was blatantly displayed across your face as you registered the information. You didn't expect management, especially Rumi, to be handing out keys so freely and enlist new employees for overnight baking duties. Then again... given the rather unexpected departure of one of the bakers, you supposed the situation must be dire enough to warrant such desperate measures given the shop's popularity.

“...It'll be nice to have help in the mornings” With a shrug, you dismissed your initial doubts, content to accept Izuku's explanation. After all, you're just a team lead, not really the position to harp on the decisions made by upper management when you'll only get a headache for your trouble. As the manager of your location, Rumi can deal with that nonsense. The fact that you're just honestly grateful for the extra hands during the morning rush seems to override any lingering uncertainties.

You stretched your arms out wide, movements fluid and graceful, as a yawn escaped your lips. Fatigue lingered beneath the surface, evident in the slight droop of your eyelids and the darkened circles barely visible beneath your eyes. A testament to your restless night of sleep, body aching from the intensity of the “bath” you shared with Katsuki.

You offered Izuku a small, tired smile as you spoke, voice carrying a soft, lingering weariness. "I'm going to get the quiches ready in the other oven," you said with sleepy determination.

A moment later, as you set about your task, Izuku's acute senses detected a faint scent of burning sugar, tickling the edges of his nostrils. His eyes immediately darted towards the ovens, but upon closer inspection, he realized that the raspberry croissants had only just begun baking, their doughy forms barely touched by the heat. He dismissed the fleeting scent, assuring himself that it must have been a mere figment of his imagination.

Silently observing you moved past him, Izuku's gaze lingered on the circles under your eyes, a telltale sign of exhaustion and a restless sleep. Concern flickered in his emerald gaze, a twinge of protectiveness already tugging at his chest. He silently resolved to ensure that in time you understood that he was there for your well-being, even if you remained blissfully unaware of his true intentions.

Taking it upon himself to ease your tiredness, Izuku moved with a flurry of efficiency at the tea counter. His fingers gracefully danced across the array of tea leaves, their aroma filling the air, selecting his own special blend to help ease your weary spirit. His movements were precise and purposeful, a silent gesture of care for the woman who stood just a few feet away. You vaguely heard the clink of one of the kettles, as he prepared a cup colored with your favorite hue.

You carefully closed the door of the oven, the final quiche now tucked away to bake to golden perfection. You wiped your hands on your apron, turning around just as Izuku walked over, cradling a cup of tea in his large hands. Leaning against the kitchen island, your tired eyes blinked back the haze of exhaustion, momentarily jolted back to alertness as Izuku approached.

“This the seasonal energy tea blend?” Your gaze drifted down to the cup, its colorful pattern a perfect match to your favorite shade. You paused for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing your features, but quickly brushed off the coincidence. After all, how could the new guy know such a personal detail? Thanking Izuku with a sweet smile, you accepted the cup and immediately felt the relaxing warmth it radiated.

The steam rose in ethereal tendrils, almost imperceptible in the dim light that filtered through the skylight overhead. Your eyes followed the wisps up towards the still dark pink sunrise through the window, their graceful dance capturing your attention briefly before you brought the cup to your lips.

With each passing second, Izuku's senses were assailed by that same faint smell that evoked a sense of ...smoke? His brows furrowed ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. It lingered in the air, a faint odor that didn't align with the barely warm food in the oven. Izuku couldn't have known it was due to Katsuki, your territorial roommate, his pheromones carrying a note of smoldering embers. The scent itself evoked a strong dislike within Izuku, as his attention to detail in the pastry-making artistry made even the slightest indication of burning a source of disdain. Izuku swept over the kitchen, muttering to himself, trying to locate the source of the offensive smell.

As your finished the last sip of the steaming tea, a wave of warmth washed over you, permeating your body from the inside out. The autumn morning chill retreated, replaced by a comforting sensation that wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. The embrace of the herbal infusion wove its soothing spell, making you feel pleasantly drowsy in the brisk kitchen.

"I'm thinking this new morning tea is a miss" you muttered as you glared half-heartedly at the leaf dregs of the delicious brew. The aching fatigue that had clung to you began to dissipate, replaced by a gentle drowsiness that weighed down your eyelids. A yawn escaped your lips, body responding to the tea's intended purpose. Izuku stepped close, closer than necessary, as he reached out to take the empty tea cup from your hand.

You held out the cup, your hand hovering in the air as Izuku moved closer. But it's in that moment, as Izuku inhaled the lingering scent, nose giving a small twitch, that his gaze narrowed with a sudden intensity. Your drowsy mind failed to register the glare of his emerald eyes, an indication of something more than casual curiosity.

"Why...do you smell like you fell in a damn bonfire?" Izuku's words carried a sharpness, a demand rather than mere inquiry. They sliced through the air, hanging there with a weight that is impossible to ignore. His voice had cut through the air with an uncharacteristic edge, void of the easygoing nature she had come to associate with the coworker facade he portrayed.

Your heart skipped a beat, embarrassment flooding your features as Izuku's question settled in. You were stunned for a moment, the truth of the situation hanging heavily on your heart. Of course, you realized, Izuku's hybrid senses would pick up the scent left behind by Katsuki last night. How could you forget?

Scratches, cum, and pheromones laid on you the night before when Katsuki sensed Izuku's touch from when he thanked you during training. His possessiveness in the bath had been clear, his words a promise of violence should Izuku dare to lay a hand on you again.

A knot formed in the pit of your stomach as embarrassment filled your voice, intertwining with a shard of defiance. "I...uh...had a bit of a disagreement with my room mate last night," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "But it's nothing to worry about, really."

Your admission threatened to tip the scales of the delicate equilibrium. Whether or not you were fully aware, the territorial boundaries have already been drawn between the territorial tiger and the love-mad hare. The situation a powder keg waiting to ignite, and Izuku the bastard he is, was going to make sure it blew up in the face of this “room mate” of yours.

Izuku's large hands swiftly found their place on your hips, his touch firm yet careful. In one fluid motion, he effortlessly lifted you clean off your feet and placed you onto the island counter. The contrast in your heights is stark, you find yourself still having to tilt your chin to look up in shock at Izuku. His long ears twitched with barely restrained irritation.

As Izuku's nose scrunched involuntarily, a mix of emotions surged within him. The scent of Katsuki, with its notes of cayenne, brown caramel, and smoldering embers, emanated from you like a provocative challenge even without a claim on your neck. To Izuku, it reeked like burnt sugar, an acrid aroma that didn't deserve a place within the confines of his shops.

His possessive instincts kicked into overdrive, an unwavering determination surging through his veins. He leaned down, his breath warm against the soft skin of your neck, his voice dropping to a low, firm tone. "You know," he began, his voice carrying a velvety cadence. "we can't have you smelling like that. It doesn't suit you, and it definitely doesn't suit this cafe."

“After all, who wants to eat in a smoky bakery?” Izuku finished as he knelt with calculated grace, his strong, muscular frame shifting closer to your exposed thighs. As he positioned himself between your parted legs, Izuku's eyes lock onto yours. In the short time you've known him, Izuku's eyes have never seemed this intense, brimming with an unwavering determination to claim you as his, to erase any trace of Katsuki's scent and replace it with his own. Your breath hitched softly, eyes widening at the audacity of Izuku's actions. Looking down at the fierce Flemish Giant between your thighs, you weren't sure you really wanted him to stop, consequences be damned.

Leaning back against the cold counter top, you let out a soft gasp as Izuku's lips met the inside of your knee. The contrast between the cool stone and the warmth of his mouth adds to the growing pleasure that courses through your body.

As Izuku's lips continued their path up your thigh, he deftly moved your cute underwear down your trembling legs. a shiver ran down your spine as the cold morning air kissed your exposed folds. The delicate material glided lower, clinging momentarily to your thighs before slipping over your uniform shoes.

Izuku's emerald eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he took a moment to appreciate the shade of green of the fabric. You're already wearing his color, he couldn't have planned it better himself. With a small grin against your soft skin, he quickly tucked your panties into his pocket, claiming another piece of you for himself while he distracted you with kisses and nips along your thigh.

Izuku's chuckle had a dark edge to it, tinged with an unmistakable sense of triumph as Katsuki's scent gradually began to dissipate. Your slick hole starting to carry the familiar fragrance of your usual jasmine, proof of Izuku's determined assertion of dominance over any traces of his new rival's presence.

With a deliberate and confident movement, Izuku pushed the bottom of your thighs up, hooking your ankles over his broad shoulders and positioning himself between your legs. His biceps barely flexed as his large tan hands gently scooted your hips closer to the edge of the counter, granting him better access to your tantalizingly wet pussy. The shadowy figures of your bodies blended together in the dark kitchen, the only source of light being the faint glow of the dark pink sunrise streaming through the skylight above. The faint rays of the sunrise dance across Izuku's face, highlighting his handsome features and the determination in his emerald green eyes.

Izuku's lips found their way to your tender slit, his tongue gently flicking and teasing your hooded pearl. The expert motions and the expert blend of pleasure and pressure elicited from his mouth heightened the sensations coursing through your body, intensifying your pleasure with each passing moment. Your taste was intoxicating to him, driving his desire further, as if he can't get enough.

Then again, he always did have a sweet tooth.

As his tongue hungrily slipped inside your aching cunt, suddenly the weight of Izuku's actions broke through the sleepy haze. Your mind flashed back to the conversation you had with Katsuki the night before, a warning that now echoed in your head. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, "My room mate is gonna be pissed.” You groaned into your hands. The memory of Katsuki's threat looms in the back of your mind, a promise of violence should Izuku dare to lay a hand on you again.

Izuku lifted his gaze, a mischievous grin spreading across slick lips, as he locked eyes with you. His rabbit ears moved, playfully expressing his amusement. "Oh? And what is your room mate gonna do?" he retorted, a playful challenge in his voice. Without a hint of hesitation, he dives back down, his lips and tongue resuming their intoxicating dance against your sensitive folds and clit . He seemed completely unfazed by the threat, his confidence unyielding, a trait born of his secret life.

Even though the haze of pleasure, you hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether you should reveal the full extent of Katsuki's threat. Reluctantly, you gave in, letting the words slip out before your pleasure-addled brain could catch up. "He said he was gonna 'put you in the ground'," you admitted, lust thick voice tinged with a hint of unease.

Izuku's grip on your hips tightened, his possessive desire flaring again within him. The threat of violence from Katsuki barely registers as a deterrent. With a sinister glimmer in his eyes, Izuku responded, his voice laced with barely-contained excitement. "Is that so?" he murmured darkly, relishing the challenge "Let him try, I don't see a claim on your pretty neck." Without wasting another moment, Izuku went back to work, his mouth and tongue working diligently to replace any remnant of Katsuki's presence.

Feeling a sudden surge of mixed emotions—fear, excitement, desire—your hands had a mind of their own as they reached down lightly grazing over the soft, velvety texture of Izuku's rabbit ears. They quivered beneath your touch, responding to your exploration with an almost eager sensitivity.

As your fingers tangled in his forest green locks, you felt the warmth of Izuku's growl vibrating against your sensitive pussy, an intimate sound that resonated deep within you. The way his growl reverberated against your heated core sent shivers down your spine, making your swollen clit ache with need.

Izuku's mouth continued its relentless assault on your dripping cunt, his agile tongue expertly explored every hidden crevice, every secret fold, as if he was committing your every contour to memory. Each breathless moan that escaped your lips fueled Izuku's frenzy further.

For a moment, the tension in the air feels electric, a heightened awareness of the forbidden nature of your encounter. Despite the threat hanging over Izuku's head, he had explosive pleasure coursing through your body, casting an intoxicating spell over both of you. It's a dangerous game you've walked into, driven by the irresistible magnetism that seems to resonate between you and the hybrids in your life. The world around you seemed to fade away, the though of any brewing storm quickly silenced by the chorus of your erratic breaths and the wet sounds of Izuku's devouring lips.

With each passing moment, Izuku's own arousal became more apparent, his throbbing erection pressing insistently against the fabric of his pants, boxers already growing slippery with precum. The sheer desire in his eyes lit up the dim space, reflecting the hunger growing inside, as his tongue continued its wicked exploration.

As the sensations kept building, Izuku's nibbles along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs grew insistent, his teeth grazing your tender folds with just the right amount of pressure to send waves of tingling pleasure coursing through your veins. Each nip sends surges of electricity shooting up your spine, heightening your already stimulated state.

With a final, gentle nip, Izuku's attention returned to your swollen clit, his talented mouth engulfing it entirely, his tongue milking the pleasure from your body with a hunger born of his obsessive adoration.

The cold surface of the kitchen counter beneath you contrasted sharply with the scorching heat that consumed your being. It further intensified the sensations, making your body arch uncontrollably, craving more of Izuku's skilled tongue and the delicious friction against your dripping slit. As Izuku continued his tantalizing assault, a whirlwind of pleasure tore through you. Every touch, every lick, is electrifying, driving you to the edge of sanity and euphoria.

Your body responded instinctively to Izuku's ministrations, muscles tightening, drawing you closer to the precipice of your first orgasm. The familiar coil of ecstasy grew within, winding tighter with each flick of his tongue and gentle suction against your throbbing clit.

And then it happened—your climax hit you with an intensity that knocked the air out of your lungs. It crashed over you like a tidal wave, shattering any composure you still had and leaving you breathless and trembling. Your body quaked, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, drowning out rational thought.

As the echoes of your orgasm still shook you, Izuku didn't let up. His mouth continued to work its magic, prolonging the throes of your pleasure, drawing out every last drop of intoxication from your trembling body. The sensations are almost too much to bear, your mind spiraling in a haze of ecstasy as he licked you dry.

“Do I still reek?” Voice trembling, as you questioned whether the lingering scent of burnt caramel still clung to the air. But Izuku, always perceptive, noted the shift in your aroma, the return of your usual sweet jasmine-like scent. A return that happened a little too quickly for his oral fixation, to be quite honest.

A devious gleam danced in Izuku's emerald eyes as he listened to your words. He leaned back slightly on his knees, his chest rising and falling with his own ragged breaths. "Oh. Sorry, you still smell burnt," he lied with ease, a feigned apologetic smile playing at the corners of his lips. In this moment, he reveled in the idea of indulging his sweet tooth on the object of his obsession- You.

What was another white lie in the grand scheme of things?

Before you could respond, overcome with desire, Izuku plunged back down between your trembling thighs. The sudden latch to your swollen bead caused you to buck against the cold counter, your fingers instinctively tightening around the curls at the base of Izuku's rabbit ears, holding on for dear life. A sharp twinge of over-sensitivity mingles with the persistent pleasure, adding another layer to the overwhelming sensations.

Nose pressed against your mound, Izuku's tongue delved deep, searching for every trace of their intoxicating cum. His mouth moved with a fevered rhythm, his ministrations calculated and purposeful. His tongue speared through your slick folds, flicking and teasing as if he planned to consume every intimate drop. He couldn't get enough of your taste.

Meanwhile, your body danced on the edge of ecstasy once again. The contrasting sensations of pleasure and sensitivity, sent electric currents shooting through every nerve. With each movement of Izuku's skilled tongue, your hips involuntarily bucked and writhed, seeking more of that delicious contact.

As you came a second time, a loud cry escaped your lips, reverberating through the dimly lit space. The intensity of the sensation threatened to overwhelm you, nerves tingling with each tantalizing touch of his skilled tongue.

Izuku's own desire burned hot within him, waiting to be unleashed. Amidst your writhing against his face, Izuku's hips involuntarily jerked forward, another surge of precum staining his boxers. The feeling of the slick fabric against the head of his dick only served to increase his hunger for you.

As your thighs instinctively attempted to clamp shut around Izuku's head in a desperate bid to shield your oversensitive clit, his arms flexed, exerting a near herculean strength to keep them in place. With your back arched and thighs trembling in his hands, you were entirely at Izuku's mercy. It was just easier to surrender to the Flemish Giant's powerful hold rather than fight his iron grip.

Izuku's movements remained unyielding, a relentless pace that threatened to push you past the limits of pleasure and into the realm of cumdrunk ecstasy. In all honesty however, Izuku's own need fueled his actions, his tongue dancing deftly, exploring every hidden crevice with fervor. Maybe he was the cumdrunk one at this point.

“T-too sensitive 'Zuku” your plea for him to let up fell on deaf ears as Izuku wickedly ignored your words, except for the cute way you whimpered his name. Izuku could listen to you stuttering his first name in pleasure for the rest of his life. He took pleasure in pushing you to your limits, eager to indulge in his own selfish desires without hesitation. He had waited so long for this moment, he was going to get his fill. Or at least enough to satiate him while he made his claim.

"You can handle cumming for me again," Izuku insisted, his voice filled with dark adoration as he denied you mercy, before plunging back between your folds. Fuck, he loved you clamping down on his tongue like this, he only hoped you could handle all of him.

Your body quivered in response, overwhelmed by the heightened sensitivity of the onslaught on your swollen clit. Izuku's unwavering focus and iron grip left no room for escape or mercy. His tongue pressed skillfully, teasing and taunting your most sensitive spots, delving in with fervor and purpose. The taste of you, the intoxicating flavor that mingled with your heavenly musk, is like a drug to him, an addiction that drove him deeper into his feral desires.

Your body squirmed uncontrollably, overcome by the unbearable pleasure Izuku exerted on you. Every gentle nip and forceful suck sends you writhing. In desperation, your hands find solace in reaching the base of Izuku's rabbit ears, gently tugging with an almost desperate plea. Too much..!

But far from slowing down Izuku, the sensations of your tender grip on his ears only served to fuel his primal instincts. It's as if the touch of your shaky hands ignited a feral fire within him, intensifying the frenzied pace of his ministrations. His own need reached a fever pitch, his tongue dancing with an even more voracious appetite, ravishing every inch of your cunt.

Your body reacted uncontrollably to the overwhelming sensations, saliva escaping your lips as you moaned and whimpered in a haze of pleasure. Your legs twitching and trembling, but Izuku's firm grip prevented you from dislodging him, keeping you at his mercy.

The sound of Izuku eating out your soaked cunt echoed within the otherwise empty café kitchen, the lewd noises amplified by the decorated tiles. Your grip on the base of Izuku's furry ears tightened, desperation evident as you sought an anchor to ground herself amidst the waves of pleasure forced on you.

Driven by his feral determination, Izuku continued to devour you with a relentless pace. His imposing length now popping up and over the band of his slick boxers, yearned for release. As your squirms and whimpers grew more unrestrained, your body teetered on the edge of a precipice, ready to crash to a blinding climax.

As Izuku forced a third orgasm from your bullied clit, your vision faded into a hazy whiteness, the sheer intensity of the pleasure causing your consciousness to spiral into a realm of overwhelming ecstasy. Your mind became consumed by a kaleidoscope of sensations, blurring the boundaries of pleasure and reality. Your entire being is overwhelmed by the whiteout, a surge of ecstasy that drowns out all other thoughts and sensations.

You remained lost in your own world of ecstasy, mind blissfully blank by the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through your veins. In the midst of the pleasure-induced haze, you barely registered Izuku standing to his full height pushing 7 feet, his uniform khakis and boxers shifted low on his chiseled hips. His imposing figure cast a shadow over your flushed form. He reveled in the sight of your face caught in the throes of your cumdrunk daze, body trembling and clearly craving further gratification.

Who was he to deny you?

With another shift of fabric, Izuku's thick cock sprung forth, liberated from its confines, hardened and throbbing. His erection stood tall despite it's weight, demanding attention, the embodiment of Izuku's primal nature. Flemish Giants are big in, well, every way. If your mind wasn't completely blank right now, you'd probably be worried about how the monstrous girth could fit in you. A concern Izuku clearly didn't have.

With an unquenchable desire driving him, Izuku moved between your quivering thighs, positioning himself to align with your sopping entrance still twitching from your last orgasm. The immense size of his swollen cock head presented a challenge for your tight and unprepared opening. Your poor pussy's struggle to accommodate Izuku's massive girth sent shockwaves through both of your bodies, setting the stage for the battle between resistance and persistence. Don't worry, he'll make sure he fits.

The first few frantic and desperate tries by Izuku only drew a frustrated growl from the large hybrid. Your body strained to accommodate the overwhelming size of Izuku's cock, your senses overloaded with both pleasure and over sensitivity. But with a slick pop, the tip of Izuku's engorged member finally breached your entrance, forcing its way inside.

You remained blissfully lost in a euphoric haze, your body intertwined with Izuku's as he leaned over you. The cafe's dim lighting from the sunrise cast gentle shadows across the kitchen, highlighting Izuku's disheveled green curls and the captivating glow of his emerald eyes, resembling one of the rabbits forged from swirling shadows on the mural that adorns the wall.

Leaning over you, Izuku's dominant side asserts itself, swiftly pressing your knees up towards your shoulders. Applying pressure to open them wider, he exposed every inch of your quivering slit spread tight around the head of his dick. With a growl of determination, Izuku bullied his way further inside your depths, his larger size causing a twinge of pain as he stretched you to your limit to accommodate him. Your body struggled with the difference between him and Katsuki.

The sheer size of Izuku's cock, larger than even your room mate's, brings a mixture of pleasure and ache to your sensitized cunt. While Katsuki's barbs had their own unique sting, the contrast in size between him and the rabbit currently using you like a fucktoy induced new levels of soreness and bliss.

Izuku thinks he may have found heaven when he finally breaks in your pussy enough for his monstrous dick to bottom out against your cervix. Undeterred by your cunt's struggle, Izuku sets a rapid rabbit pace, his thrusts forceful and demanding.

The sound of their intertwining bodies filled the room, the wet slapping of Izuku's balls against your ass creating a rhythm that added to the sound of their escalating pleasure. Despite the stinging stretch, you remained freely vocal, too lost in your bliss to be concerned about anything else. Izuku's moans and your cries filled the air, adding to the sinful symphony.

As Izuku's large muscles flexed, his grip on the counter edge on either side of your head tightened, seeking leverage to thrust even more deeply. His forearms came to rest on the cold surface. Your knees were pinned again Izuku's chest, as each of his motions rocked your body forcefully against the stone counter of the kitchen island.

As Izuku continued his relentless pace, his large muscles flexing with each powerful thrust, his emerald eyes shone with feral bliss. Soft forest green ears were pinned back against his curls, a clear sign of his animalistic desire taking hold. Noticing your slightly pained fucked-out expression, Izuku found a sort of sadistic glee in your reactions. He couldn't help but revel in the sense of superiority it gave him.

No fucking way that crispy room mate of yours has ever filled you like this before.

"Aw, am I too big? Does it sting?" Izuku crooned huskily in your ear, voice filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "Fuck..! Taking me like such a good little pet- I knew you could handle it.” Even if his love is tainted by selfish obsession, he takes genuine pride in your resilience. Not everyone could take his bitch breaking girth the first time. Or at all.

You could only offer a weak nod in response to what little you catch of his words. Your walls clung to his thick length, the stretch more than you've ever experienced before. Yet, your blissed-out state allowed you to push through the discomfort of having your guts rearranged, exchanging it for a facet of ecstasy that only Izuku could provide. You were intoxicated.

The grip of your walls around his pulsing member further fueled his desire, his relentless pace never faltering. Your pussy clung desperately to his too thick cock, the force of each slam eliciting a a ragged gasp as he bottomed out against your cervix. His intense gaze locks onto your dilated eyes, drinking in every nuance of your cumdrunk expressions as you submitted to him completely.

For Izuku, this moment is the culmination of his desires since the moment you were hired at one of his coffee shops. His obsessive desire for you have driven him to go to great lengths, even "hiring" himself as a barista to get close to you. Now, his darkest desires are being fulfilled, the mate he craves finally within his grasp.

Fuck, he wasn't going to last much longer with you looking past him all fucked-out like that.

Intense pleasure coursing through your veins, you were overcome by the sensory overload of cumming again. Saliva escaped your parted lips, a shiny trail down the side of your chin. Your moans and whimpers intermingled with the wet, lewd sounds of your boss' thrusts into you, heavy balls accentuating squelches with quick slaps against your ass. Your gushing cunt walls attempted to tighten around Izuku's massive member with some success as you reached one last mind shattering orgasm. Your trembling pussy clamped down as best it could, Izuku thrusting all the while.

As he reached his own tipping point, Izuku's rabbit ears stood straight up, a visible sign of his peaking pleasure. “S-shit” He whined, your tight cunt was strangling his cock, causing his foot to bounce uncontrollably as he thrust as fast as possible. Each slam was met with the rhythmic spasming of your walls, clenching onto his too thick length with a desperate intensity. The sensation of your pussy clinging to his dick on every exiting pull, and the feel of his mushroom tip slamming against your cervix, was too much for Izuku. Driven by his unbridled desire, Izuku maintained his rabbit-like pace until the end, unable to resist the sweet agony of the tight vice that surrounded him.

With a deep groan of satisfaction, Izuku succumbed to the milking motion of your tight ring of muscles. The tip of his cock became engorged and sensitive, the pressure pushing him over the edge, the slit gushing forth with his warm cum. Pumping spurt after spurt, Izuku filled your womb with his seed, the pulsing sensation mixing with the raw pleasure that coursed through you both. One of his fuzzy ears cocked to the side, a visual display of the euphoria that engulfed him.

As with most rabbit hybrids, Izuku momentarily leaned all his weight on your pinned legs and his forearms, his body collapsing with the intensity of his climax. Your cunt walls stretched tight around his member still milked and clenched, coaxing every drop of his essence from within him. Overwhelmed by the influx of cum you could only moan brokenly in bliss, your consciousness long faded away during your last orgasm.

In the aftermath of your shared climax, Izuku remained trembling and breathless over your spent body, his emerald eyes still gleaming with a primal intensity, as he nuzzled your hair. The cafe was filled with the scent of your combined arousal, a poignant reminder of the powerful connection. A perfect mix of pine needles, yuzu zest and jasmine blossoms in the smug Izuku's opinion.

Much better than that burnt sugar bastard's stench.

Izuku needs a few tries to withdraw from your clasping cunt, before the head of his dick pops free of your pubic ridge with a final jerk of his hips. He hissed in oversensitive pleasure at the sensation of pulling free of your quim. Geez, were all humans this small on the inside? He wondered as his cum began to gush out of you. Izuku's viscous seed quickly flowed down your folds, trailing onto the cold counter top before beginning to drip onto the floor. He could definitely get used to that image. “You should get some rest” Izuku smugly beamed down at you before planting a soft kiss on your forehead, your lids heavy with fatigue. You could hardly fight the chemicals, both natural and otherwise at this point, from pulling you into slumber, and soon you lost the battle. He smiled as he heard your breathing even out, asleep.

Izuku's tea, and it's added ingredient, had taken longer to take effect than he expected. When he saw how exhausted you were, he had just intended for you to nap through your shift. Cuddle with your unconscious form under a cozy blanket in the autumn afternoon during his lunch hour, maybe. Izuku was so glad he'd been given enough time make you cry his name so prettily before you slipped into sleep.

In comparison to this morning, you looked so serene and relaxed, even after your intense encounter. Izuku leaned over you, his forearms resting on the cold stone, nuzzling your hair tenderly. His nose twitched, catching your mingled scents again, making his rabbit ears flick with delight. Izuku, hidden behind his gentle facade once again, wished he had “hired” himself sooner. He could have felt you shuddering around him months ago, but he vowed to make up for lost time now that you were already spreading yourself for him on his kitchen counter.

With gentle care, Izuku's muscular frame picked up your sleeping body from the kitchen counter. He cradled in his arms with a protective tenderness, mindful not to jostle you from slumber. He carried down the hall to the employee room across from the office, where a comfy jade couch awaited, a place for you to rest while he tended to the café.

As Izuku lay you down on the couch, your sleepy form stirred and before turning over with a yawn. Izuku would have stayed there, with his forehead against yours, all day. However, as the sunrise streamed through the kitchen skylight, Izuku became aware of just how late in the morning it was. With the sun coming up, he only had a few minutes until the coffee shop opened. He watched over you for a moment more, ensuring you were comfortably tucked into a cushy blanket, before he turned his attention to the café.

After all, as the owner of the 'Lunar Rabbit' chain, Izuku had responsibilities to fulfill.

Izuku is gonna be mad when he realizes he left the pastries in the oven, but raspberry croutons are a small price to pay in the long run.

Comments and Reblogs make a difference!

#Katsuki is gonna be PISSED (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) #zaz drabbles #livedeliciously🐐collab #dividers by @cafekitsune #yandere izuku #izuku x reader #deku x reader #yandere bnha #yandere mha #mha smut #yandere #mha x reader #bnha x reader #yandere x reader #bnha smut #minors dni #dark content #tw noncon #yandere deku #hybrid au #tw dubcon #tw overstim #tw drugging #tw stalking #size difference #hybrid!izuku

[evie-sturns]

Bonfire - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and chris have been as close as anything for years, until one night where chris, you and your friend group have a beach bonfire, resulting in you and chris disappearing together..

contains: smut, sneaking off with chris, semi-public sex, swearing.

-----------------------..••°°°°••..--------------------—-

chris and i have been close since the start of highschool, he introduced me to his brothers, nick and matt, who i've also befriended over the past few years. tonight our whole extended friend group are meeting up on the beach for a bonfire for madis birthday.

6:39pm

i pull up my low rise denim shorts, fixing my hair in the mirror as chris watches from behind me. "chris, i think my bikini is loose, can you tighten it for me?" i ask, spinning around to look at him.

chris clears his throat, "yeah, sure." he says, walking across my bedroom to me and spinning me around. i feel his cold fingers untie my bikini top as i hold the straps.

he gently brushes my back as he tightens the top into a double-knot. "tight enough?" chris asks, i spin around a flash him a smile, "thanks!" i chirp.

"can you guys hurry the fuck up." matt groans, he's apparently 'despises' being our uber driver.

"hey mr sunshine!" i say with a sarcastic grin painted across my face as i open my bedroom door, matt just scoffs with a small laugh, hes got his car keys in his hands.

-

i jump into the backseat of matts mini van, nick gets in the passenger seat and chris jumps in beside me, our legs touching.

the ride to the beach is.. entertaining? matt and nick have been having a deathly argument ever since we pulled out of our driveway, and i don't think they even know what theyre arguing about now.

matt reaches behind and slaps chris's thigh,

"the fuck did i do!!" chris laughs in shock, "breathing so loud, you sound like your battling your fucking demons back there." matt mumbles as he parallel parks into a spot.

chris taps my inner thigh with 2 fingers, "ready to go?" he asks i nod shyly, my mouth open slightly. chris climbs out of the backseat, i follow close behind, stepping out on to the footpath, covered in small grains of sand. i follow behind the triplets, the beach is completley empty apart from a small cluster of people.

"matt!" nate calls out from the sand about 50 meters away, waving his hand above his head. i jog over to them, dramatically leaping into madis arms,

theres about 35 people all scattered on the sand around a heaped pile of sticks, before i can look for chris i hear a small cheer as a boy lights up the pile of sticks, the orange rays illuminating the grains of sand around the fire.

i run over to the triplets who are sat on the sand is a small cluster, i plop myself down next to them, sparking up a conversation as people start to pull alcohol out of nowhere.

9:47pm

im laying on chris's chest as lively music blares through the night air, he breathes in and out calmly. the sun has fully set, the only light on the beach is the burnt out bonfire, sand kicks up as everyone charges towards the ocean,

i sit up, looking down at chris who has his eyes shut peacefully, the only people left on the beach are all drunk and obnoxiously loud. "chris." i tap him lightly, his eyes flutter open.

"mhm?" he asks, sitting up. his features are perfectly sculptured by the dim light, his hair resting on his forehead. the chain around his neck clings to his bare chest, the only thing on his body are dark blue swim shorts.

i grab his hand, standing up and brushing myself off. i drag chris behind the sand dunes. "you okay?" he asks, i stand infront of him, grabbing his jaw and staring at his lips.

before i can lean in, chris connects our lips hungrily, his hand snaking around my waist and back. i feel the same hands that were tying my bikini 3 hours ago, now frantically undoing it. my bikini falls to our feet, chris pulls away from the kiss, his eyes roaming up and down my body.

chris sits down on the sand, i straddle him as he pulls off his swim shorts. i undo my denim shorts, my bikini bottoms follow.

chris stares into my eyes, our heathy breaths accompanying the silence. "you want to?" chris asks, gripping my waist. "obviously" i tease "gonna have to be nice and quiet for me? yeah?" chris asks, i nod.

“you sure i mean-“ he starts again, i cut him off

“chris we will talk about all of this tomorrow, i need you now”

his hands move to my ass, he hovers me right above his tip before sinking me down slowly, i slam a hand over my mouth “shit.” i moan, the noise muffled by my palm.

“you got it.” chris says, his voice shaky.

i start to bounce up and down on his length, chris also thrusts up into me, filling me up.

chris flips us over, keeping himself inside of me. his chain dangles infront of me as he starts to pound into me, the sand moving below me.

i let out a scream of his name as he repeatedly pounds into me at just the right angle “please fuck!”

chris slams a hand over my lips, his eyes locking with mine, “be quiet.” he almost demands,

“chris i’m close” i groan into his cold hand, he shakes his head,

“no not yet.” he manages to squeeze out, his voice strained.

i start to clench around chris with every thrust, barely audible whimpers escape chris each time i do, i can tell its driving him crazy.

“cum for me, right now” chris says, his thrusts increasing in intensity,

i do, releasing around him, my nails clawing his back repeatedly, he thrusts into me one last time before pulling out, stroking himself once before painting the sand white.

chris and i lay still next to eachother for about a minute, attempting to catch our breath.

“you okay?” chris asks with a small laugh. “yeah, more than okay.” i say back, starting to redress myself.

chris pulls up his shorts before helping me up off the sand, he takes my hand and runs me down to the beach, “chris!” i laugh as he scoops me off my feet and runs towards the ocean, where all of our friends are.

he sprints into the water, throwing me a meter before tripping up and slamming face first into a wave.

i erupt into laughter as he stands up, casually running a hand through his soaked hair.

“yo chris!?” a boy calls out, swimming over to him,

“yeah?” he replies, i watch him as he spins around to face the boy,

“who the fuck was scraping your back, you’ve got red nail lines like everywhere” the boy laughs,

chris’s head snaps round to look at me before swimming over to me, scooping me up for the second time tonight and throwing me into the water.

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader

[tteokdoroki]

imagine silently vibing in the kitchen with katsuki bakugou.

you help yourself up into the counter, dressed in nothing but his shirt (haphazardly thrown on after spending all day kissing and getting nasty in bed) and a pair of fuzzy socks because he’d told you the apartment was cold since he runs warm and you need to keep your feet warm.

the kettle rumbles loud and proud beside you while katsuki gets the mugs from the top shelf. you’d made them together on your sixth or seventh date — a pottery painting class. bakugou’s is a creamy shade of Orange, like the sun setting outside the kitchen window, warm on your back. and yours is a soft pink, like the blush that dusts his cheeks from being caught staring. staring at you.

you let him make you some kind of herbal tea. watching bakugou grab the tea bags from another cupboard. this time, you’re the one staring, eyes caught on the motion of his back muscles rippling before cascading down to his unfairly slender waist, his grey sweat pants that hang a little too low on his itty bitty hips, and the rough textured skin on his side. the battle scar you love so much.

“what flavour?”

you hear him mumble, your gaze that was once tethered to the eighth wonder of the world (his phenomenally beautiful body) shoots up to bakugou’s face. a lazy smirk lies on the plump edge of his lips and compliments the his chiselled features illuminated by golden hour outside. you see the sun reflect off the brownish flecks to his gorgeous ruby eyes and the soft tint of blonde to his hair (you make a mental note to thank mitsuki for this later), before mirroring his smile.

“peach.”

to people on the outside of your lovey little bubble — there’s nothing significant about your choice of tea. but to you and katsuki, you know that it’s the same flavour as the lip glaze you wore on the night he first kissed you. it’s the scent of your body wash, the one that you leave at his place because you know that bakugou adores peaches on you. peaches, like the fruits you cut up for him whenever you’re able to join him for lunch at the agency, swiping your thumb over his chin as the juices run down it — sucking it off with an affectionate laugh.

“sweet,” bakugou hums into the quiet ambience of the kitchen. “just like you.”

his hands, though capable of intangible levels of destruction, work delicately and quickly to brew you the perfect cup of peach herbal tea. before you can even ask, he sweetens your cup with a tea spoon of brown sugar and a dash of golden honey — pushing it towards you gently. with a loving whispered reminder. ‘careful, it’s hot.’

katsuki waits for you to take a sip before he does the same with his own. he won’t admit to how cute you look on his counter, in his apartment, in his clothes with his marks on your neck, glittering under the setting sun. his bare feet pad on the vinyl flooring as he crosses the kitchen to meet you and his chest bristles with happiness when your legs part to make room for him.

“good?”

“always,” you chirp, looking up at kastuki through your lashes with your big bambi eyes. “i love you.”

katsuki looks taken aback but quickly recovers, rubbing his cheek on his bare shoulder as if to rid himself of the heat rising underneath its skin.

“love you even more. now drink up b’fore it gets cold.” he says gruffly but he’s lovesick all the same. you think that bakugou is so cute, you might implode.

and there you are, vibing out in the quietness of his kitchen — clinking your misshapen mugs together and drinking tea, letting the world go by as if you’re the only two people in it.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou drabble #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki fluff #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #it’s the way writing for him is second nature #idk what I was worried about #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

[indulgentdaydream]

Bliss and Misery

Dad!Jason Todd x Fem!Mom!Reader || Angst; Hurt/No Comfort || Word Count: 1,643

Warnings: dead dove.

i know how much you guys love my domestic!jason fics :3 so here's this one that's been bouncing around in my mind:

The morning sun stretched its fingers, slowly finding its way centimetre by centimetre in order to reach into the small apartment bedroom. The soft warmth spread over Jason's face, giving him a slow and subtle wake-up call.

Jason almost doesn't want to wake up. The plush covers are pulled up to his shoulders. One arm lays over his stomach, resting against the cotton fabric. The other stuffed underneath the pillow, beside his head. He hasn't even opened his eyes yet, but he can feel your presence beside him.

Slowly, he blinks, adjusting to the daylight. He pulls his hand out from under the pillow and runs it across his face. He vaguely remembered something about needing to be up for something. Something about helping Dick with something or another.

He turned his head to the left and all possible worries about sleeping vanished when his eyes found you.

Jason couldn't help but smile. The sight of his girl curled up in the sheets beside him making him feel warmer than the sun ever could. You looked as completely at peace as he felt in the moment. The sunlight stretched over you, as well, illuminating every feature of yours. All of which he loved without a second thought.

Loved as if it was second nature.

As if it was breathing itself.

Here, with the comforter pulled up to your chin, face squished against the pillow, and a small pile of dried drool forming on it, you were safe. He was safe.

You were safe and he was safe and this was everything he had ever wanted to give you.

Peace. Safety. Comfortability.

Love.

He takes the hand resting across his stomach and reaches out to you. There was a stray lock that had fallen out of place. He wanted to fix it for you before it could wake you out of annoyance.

Then he heard the quick padding of feet coming down the hallway.

It filters in through the bedroom door, left open a crack, getting louder with each little slap of a bare foot rushing down the hall. Jason smiles at the sound.

Obviously, he's not the only one awake.

From where he's laying, Jason can only see the top of the door. He listens as the padding feet stop right outside of it, before it begins to slowly creak open. Jason pushes up onto his elbows to get a better look.

There's a small face poking their head around the door, a curious look on their face as they peer up at the bed, trying to determine if their parents are awake. As soon as Jason's head comes up into their view, a large, bright, slightly toothy smile spreads across their whole face.

Jason holds a finger to his lips as your shared toddler pushes the door open the rest of the way. Luckily, it doesn't bang loud enough to wake you up.

"Come to my side," Jason whispers.

The sound of quick padding feet picks up again. Jason lays his head back against his pillow. He gets a second more of peace before there's a small head, covered with dense, black curls, that's appearing next to him, barely visible over the edge of the bed. Next, there's tiny hands. They're reaching up and gripping at the blanket, attempting to pull themself up, only to no avail.

Jason turns and reaches down. He lifts them up with no effort, sitting them onto his chest. His voice is groggy, still full of sleep, as he whispers "Hiya, baby."

A fit of giggles rings throughout the room. His baby leans forward. Two hands settle on either side of Jason's cheeks. His baby grins at him still, two eyes staring into his own, matching ones, and matches his whisper, "Daddy."

Jason chuckles to himself. He gently grabs his toddler's hands, pressing kisses and pretending to nibble on the little, pudgy fingers.

Another round of giggles sound out, a bit louder than before.

You shuffle in your sleep, a small puff of air leaving your lips. The movement grabs the attention of both your baby and your husband.

Your baby flops down, suddenly, off of Jason's chest. They land between you two, on the mattress. One pudgy hand is pushing themself up, the other reaching out to your face, instead. Their whispering voice calls out, "Mommy!"

Jason turns onto his side, facing you, and pulls them back. He gently holds them to his chest with an arm around them, “Shhh," He whispers into their ear, "Mommy’s sleeping.”

"Mommy s'eeping.”

Jason laughs quietly smiling as their baby looks back up at him with that same, bright grin. They look up at him with your eyes, before looking back at you.

...

Your eyes?

Jason shuffles lower in the bed, putting his face next to his baby’s. All four of their eyes are focused on you.

“Isn’t she so pretty?" He whispers, "Look at how pretty Mommy is.”

You look so peaceful. So cozy. So beautiful. With the blanket wrapped around you, your limbs comfortably spread out. Your entire life right in front of you, yet you were blissfully unaware.

“Pretty,” Their baby whispers.

Jason grins, patting their stomach, “Yes. She’s very pretty isn’t she?” Jason lets go of their baby, “Go wake her up.”

Their baby squeals out a fit of giggles again. They immediately crawl forward between the small space. Their hands come down quick, making Jason flinch in preparation for the accidental blow, but they land gently on your face. Their lips come down to messily kiss your closed eyelid.

“Mommy,” they whisper loudly.

You let out a small groan. Your baby grins, gently patting your cheek. You peer one eye open, "What is it?"

Jason grins wide, his hand coming over to smooth over your upper arm through the blanket, “The wake up call came in.”

Their baby sat back on the mattress as you lifted your head, “So you were the first victim," your eyes squinted at the morning light coming in through the window behind Jason, "and you just let ‘em continue their rampage?”

Their baby scoots down to lay between their parents, their face level between theirs, still smiling and happy as could be.

“I was already awake,” Jason smiles, “I let you have five more minutes before the attack began.”

You hum, closing your eyes again, "What a gentleman."

“Mommmmy,” your baby dragged out the word, their little hand reaching out and touching your cheek.

You hum and peak an eye open again, “I’m awake, darling.”

Jason chuckles and leans over, “You better be. We’ve obviously slept in enough according to the little one."

You let out a small laugh. He presses a light kiss to your lips.

A small squeal sounds.

Jason looks down at the look of betrayal on their toddler’s face. Their little hands raise up in question. It makes him laugh wholeheartedly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he leans back down to the toddler instead. You're laughing with him, “Are you feeling left out?”

Jason kisses their cheek. You lean in and kiss their other cheek.

Jason looks back at you, a warm smile on his face. He begins to reach his hand out to cup your face.

His phone starts to ring.

He frowns. You aren't reacting. Neither is your toddler.

His hand hits the pillow where your head should be.

The sheets are cold.

The room is dark. It’s the middle of the night.

There’s no one in front of him. It’s just him in his empty, cold, uncomfortable bed.

There's no warmth. No sunlight. No comfortable blanket. No padding little feet.

No you.

He sits up, throwing his feet over the side of the bed, tossing the covers off of himself. He rubs a hand over his face. One glance at his phone shows that it’s Dick calling. No chance he’s picking up.

Not now.

Jason holds his head in his hands.

Why did he ever break up with you?

To protect you from himself, of course. All he had wanted to give you.

Peace. Safety. Comfortability.

and...

Love.

The phone stopped ringing. A moment later, it started up again.

His life is dangerous. He was dragging you down. You were better off without him. You had the chance to choose a different path than he had.

A path that lowered your chance of sudden death just by association.

But… if that’s the life that he could’ve had with you… a life he hadn’t fully considered himself ever being able to have…

God.

Why did he ever leave?

The sight of that little smile, held in his arms, lit up by the morning light, made his stomach churn so violently he almost darted to the bathroom.

What would their name have been? He didn't know the gender in the dream.

He would have let you name them. He was never good with names.

He thought back on their eyes. He would have wanted them to have your eyes. He would have wanted them to have every single one of your features. It was always easier to those who were as gorgeous as you. Even if you rarely believed him when he tried to convince you that you are.

The phone stopped ringing again.

A text came through. You promised.

Yeah, The image of you laying in the bed, your toddler laying beside you, both smiling up at him, flashed through Jason's mind, I did promise her, didn't I?

Jason lifts his head, shaking it a little to clear his thoughts.

He had made his bed, and now he was laying in it. And it wasn't the one that had you and your shared child in it.

He picked up the phone, cleared his throat, and redialed.

He ignored the tears still falling down his face.

And the sight of your contact that was still favourited.

my bad guys I was in a mood...

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #jason todd x fem!reader #dc #red hood #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd x y/m #red hood x y/n #red hood x fem!reader #dc x reader #dc x fem!reader #dad!jason todd #dad!jason todd x reader #mom!reader #fem!reader #queued