#he deserves a warm bath and long sleep after all of this

[manglednatalia]

Joy of my life, you are the scrunkliest

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

♡ TW: yandere, noncon, incest, twincest, blind!reader, twin brother!satoru

♡ FEM reader

Overprotective twin brother Satoru…

He was born with an abundance of cursed energy, while you got none and no heavenly pact or anything at all to show for being a Gojo.

You can’t even see curses. In fact, you can’t see at all.

It’s as if in the womb, Satoru harvested everything for himself so that you would always depend on him.

He sees it differently, though. He’s the older twin—and that means everything to him. You’re his. His good half. You were born with the heart, and he was born with the rest, all in order to spare and protect you.

“The royal guard walks at the front to keep the princess safe” is something he started saying when you were younger. “That’s why I was born first. To keep my princess safe.” 

He always holds your trembling face in his hands while saying it. And although you can’t see, you still feel it, how he’s sticky and warm, soaked with the blood he’s spilled—all in the name of protecting you.

You don’t think you were scared of your twin brother when you were toddlers, but you’re not sure. You were still young when he learned how to use his techniques. He’d never had any tolerance to speak of and no mercy to spare when that non-existent tolerance was tested. Still, of course, he’d never ever think of harming you.

That’s not what worried you…

No, rather, it was the staff and any other unsuspecting visitor you feared for and how they might have the misfortune of crossing the hair-thin tripwire that triggered your brother’s cold-hearted rage.

Maids were fired every other day—often after having suffered at his hands, sometimes with limbs missing, sometimes with senses lost. None of them could ever measure up to his standards, especially when it came to you. You were to be treated like a goddess, not a child, despite that being what you both were. His sister deserved only the finest and was to be dressed to new perfection every day, hand-fed only your favorites, and never ever allowed to lift even a single finger yourself. That’s how Satoru saw it.

And if anyone were to fail to understand that, they’d meet with his swift judgment. Even being blind, you’d still see the awful glowing blue of his eyes before the screams and the sudden smell of rust all around.

You remember the first time it had happened. Your nurserymaid had insisted it was time the two of you no longer shared the same bed—said it wasn’t proper. You must have been about six years old. One second, she was there. Next, you were covered in her.

The two of you had slept in it. 

No. Satoru had slept, tucked snugly against you as if nothing was amiss. 

You had barely slept since.

You never stopped sharing a bed. You’d tried at a point to tell him how it wasn’t right, how it wasn’t something siblings should do. He’d only asked you who’d put those silly ideas in your head. And you’d been wiser not to raise the thought again, fearing for the lives he might decide were responsible.

Still, despite his lack of moral restraint, you’re older before he decides sleeping in the same bed just isn’t enough anymore.

You’d always known of the way he looked at you. You’ve felt it. Always there as a silent voyeur during your dress fittings and baths, studying you in a way a brother shouldn’t. You’d done your best to ignore that ever-present feeling of yearning coming from him in those moments he’d touch you, feeling his long slender fingers run cold over your bare skin, always insisting on giving you a helping hand, to dress and to undress, to eat, to walk. 

You’ve always known what he’s wanted.

Still, you’d thought some type of decency would hold him back from ever acting on it. 

You realize now how foolish you’d been…

As head of the Gojo clan, he makes decisions as he sees fit and announces your engagement before the entirety of its ranks and members as if it were only obvious. And under the pressure of his six eyes, no one dares even utter a gasp at the outrageous prospect. No, all they do is smile and clap while giving their blessings.

In the end, you’re the only one who objects.

“Satoru?” you ask after the assembly. Walking, or rather wandering, unsteadily on your plank shoes in the direction of his voice, hearing him talk about clan matters he’s never bothered to include you in—it’s not for you to worry about, is all he’ll ever say. Always treating you like a child despite being the same age.

“Princess!” he exclaims, rushing over to you, holding you up as if you were in danger of getting knocked over by a sudden draft. “What are you doing up? How many times have I told you, just tell the carriers where you want to go and they’ll take you there.”

You purse your lips and bite your tongue from sounding too chagrinned. Embarrassed enough already to want to cause more of a scene. Only muttering, “I can walk fine on my own–”

But Satoru isn’t convinced, nor concerned with the same matters as you, much too busy with protecting you from the terrors of standing on your own two feet. 

“You’ll exhaust yourself. Come,” he decides, dismissing the elders he'd been talking to.

You listen to them leave, lifting a hand to call them back, “No wait, but–”

But nothing. As always, Satoru doesn’t listen. Picking you up without further bickering. He lifts you off your feet and carries you away like an infant, back to the cozy den of pillows and blankets he insists you sit on during assemblies, calling it your throne despite it not being much different from your bed.

He doesn’t set you down. No, instead, he sits down with you, holding you in his lap as he gets comfortable in the plush nest.

“So, princess? Did you like my announcement?” he asks cheerfully. Already picturing you in wedding attire—so hopelessly incapacitated in the heavy layers, how you’d need his help every step of the way, even with walking down the aisle. 

“We can’t marry, Satoru…” You break his line of thought with a mumble. “You’re my brother.”

You're unable to say it with your chest—rather, you only muster enough courage to whisper it. Feeling anxious about his reaction. All he ever seems to care about is dolling you up so you can sit pretty next to him. And for so long, he hasn’t allowed anything else. You have no idea what to expect now that you’ve finally asked. 

Of course, you hope he’ll respect your words and see reason, but somehow, you doubt he’s ever really thought or cared about what you think you want—intent on making all those decisions for you.

“Silly princess,” he starts, closing the distance between the two of you by cupping your face as he so often likes doing, stroking his thumb over your bottom lip. “Who else would we marry if not each other?” 

It’s as you thought. He doesn’t understand, nor does he care to. And still, there aren’t many options other than you trying to reason with him. Despite only being brave enough to do so by mumbling, “It’s—it’s… not right...”

To that, he just hums, nose-kissing you despite how you try to duck your head away—his voice dumbifying your worry, saying “Don’t you love me, princess?”

It’s an unfair question… beside the point, and yet to him, it makes the point. Still, there’s nothing else to say but “Of course, I love you, Satoru.”

It comes out as a croak, somewhat choked in the feeling of hopelessness, all of which he just finds so endearing. Rubbing your cheek with his thumb as he watches those milky eyes of yours grow teary.

“Then who’s to say it’s wrong?” he croons, kissing your forehead as if you’re a silly child crying over silly things, and further explaining it to you just so, “We’ve belonged to each other since birth. Marriage is just to appease society's structures. It means nothing compared to what we already have and have always had.”

His other hand kneads your midriff, keeping you snug against him as if sensing how you wanted to leave. But you don’t try it. No, you barely manage to shake your head.

“I love you,” he says, but it isn’t the same way you say it. No, it’s something far more disturbing. “Sometimes, I wish we were the only two people on earth, like it was when we shared the womb together.”

You shudder, feeling his breath hit your face with your heart causing a ruckus in your chest, telling you to do something to stop what’s coming.

“I want to be close like that again. Just you and me and nothing else.”

You accept it for a moment—his lips against yours. Thinking you had no choice. But as you sit there, willing yourself to stay still, a sickness starts climbing up from the pit of your stomach, until you suddenly can’t stand it anymore. 

And with both hands pushing him away, you shriek, “Don’t!”

Prying yourself out of his embrace, you throw yourself back so fast you end up falling out of the elevated throne bed. Still, the pain in your rear barely registers as you wipe your mouth free of the spit your brother had left behind. Cringing at the stickiness, feeling nothing short of abhorred, as if it were the last thing that should ever touch your tongue.

“It’s disgusting. I won’t. I—” You’ve raised your voice now, for the first time in your life. Your brows furrow as you put all your might into the next words. “I refuse.”

And then, as if almost regretting it, you swallow thickly. Ears burning for any sign of his reaction, everything remains silent, deadly so, only disturbed by the heavy ups and downs of your own labored breath. 

Until…

“Disgusting?” he repeats.

And you don’t know why, but something about the edge in his tone makes you whimper and shuffle back. It was as if something about the very air changed, feeling heavy, crushing, all of a sudden.

“No… You don’t mean that, princess.”

You hear his steps come after you, soft first, stepping through the pillows, then light against the marble tiles, unhurried, knowing you’re not able to go anywhere. 

“You’re just reciting whispers you’ve heard,” he hisses under his breath. Then, darker, growling, “I ought to cut out everyone's tongue. That’ll teach them.”

“No–” you object, but he’s done now with listening to you. 

Shutting you up instantly with a dismissive, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, princess. I’ll teach you too. This is how it’s meant to be.”

You kick off your plank shoes at that, struggling in your heavy dress as you twist around onto your hands and knees before getting up, holding the many fabrics in your arms as you run—only… you have no idea where. 

Anytime you’d snuck out of your room to explore the grounds, trying to map out a route you’d never dared admit was for an escape attempt, your brother had always come and collected you before you’d made it down the first hallway. And so, blinder than blind, you’re completely lost even in your own home. And the panic makes you slip on your skirt before you’ve even made it halfway down the assembly chamber, accompanied by the awful sounds of your own fumbling being echoed back as if mocking you.

You hear him sigh heavily behind you. And then his hand grips your upper arm, harshly—in a way you’ve never felt. 

It’s enough to make you yelp, starting to thrash—panic in your chest, you’re shaking your head, trying to pull yourself free by pushing him away. “Please, Satoru—please, let go–”

Before you know it, you’re pushed flat against the floor. Cushioned by your weighty dress, it’s like a soft bed, but with the way Satoru holds a hand over your mouth and forces you down, you feel as if you’re drowning.

“Keep this up, princess, and eyes won’t be the only thing you’ll be missing,” he barks. Not even giving you enough time for the freight in your chest to settle before worsening it. “Run away, and I'll take your legs. Fight me, and I’ll take your hands. Keep talking back, and I’ll take your tongue too.”

Balanced between your legs in the mess of your skirt’s many layers, bearing over you with his back hunched, he keeps you pinned as your whole body starts to quiver. 

“Is that what you want?” he questions. “Is that what it’ll take for you to behave?”

More tears flow then, in nothing short of a storm. Flooding down your cheeks, wetting the hand he’d locked over your mouth.

It brings a pang to his chest, and he realizes what he’d just said.

He peels his fingers off your lips, then cups your cheeks instead, shaking his head. 

“No, princess, I didn’t mean that—you know I didn’t. I would never hurt you—you know that—”

He kisses your forehead again, then your nose, then your lips, then your neck, where he nuzzles himself as he continues to coo at you, “Sh-shh, princess. Listen to me. Listen to your big brother. I just want to love you. Won’t you let me love you?”

You sob, shaking your head, trying to crawl out from beneath him and the tongue he has against your neck, sucking and biting at your collar with a mouthful of heated words, “Trust me, princess. I’ll take care of you. You’ll see. Just like always. And there’s never been anything wrong with that.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[joeldarling]

The Flu - Oldman!Joel x F!reader

Summary: Reader gets sick and her old man Joel takes care of her.

Warnings: Light spicy, stablished relationship, f!reader, Joel cums inside, no reader description. THE glasses mention.

Word count: 1k.

A/N: Got sick yesterday and this popped out of my mind this afternoon. It’s just a bit of soft with a bit of spicy and the fact that I can’t contain myself; I am on my knees for oldman!Joel. As usual, English it’s not my first language, so, sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes. You can see more of my works on my masterlist and my requests are open! 💌

You got the flu during one of your patrols, it was cold outside from the snow and everyone was sneezing, maybe they had passed to you, maybe you passed to them. You couldn’t be sure.

You arrived home feeling your body heavy, and it was one of the rare nights Joel had off. He quickly noticed how sick you seemed. You didn't want to cause him any more trouble, but you couldn't hide it.

Joel and you have been together for some time now, in a silent agreement where you share a house, a bed, and multiple orgasms, but don't need any verbal agreements. You had always been his anyway, and even with the age difference, you couldn't care less. Joel was in his sixties but still had more energy than many of the boys in Jackson, and he always made sure you were satisfied, that you had everything you needed—even when all you needed was just him.

He warmed up the bathwater for you, slowly removed all your layers of damp clothing, and made sure your hair was tied up securely enough so it wouldn't get wet. He blew your nose, and you both laughed at the fact that you looked more like a drenched animal than anything else. Joel, even tired from his long day, still found ways to make your journey lighter.

Soon after the bath, he dried every part of your body, and even with desire running through his every glance, Joel dressed you with devotion, giving you one of his old long-sleeved shirts, warm enough so you could sleep comfortably through the night without feeling cold. He put you to bed and prepared a cup of tea, promising that in the morning, he would get something more effective than that. Even finding your silence strange, he didn't complain when you snuggled close to him after he turned off all the lights, trembling slightly at his touch.

Joel talked to you until you fell asleep, the fever making your body as hot as could be and causing the shirt to become soaked with sweat. In the middle of the night, he brought the glass of water you asked for without hesitation or complaint. He brushed the hair away from your face and kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your red and sore nose from so much sneezing, and finally, your lips. His kiss was sweet, it sounded like home. Joel was your home after all.

“I promise I will find ya’ sum’ medicine by the mornin’.” He said, as he pulled you closer, making your heart skip a beat or two. He was completely enamored with every part of you, even when he didn't feel enough, too old with the glasses he wore and his moody expressions. But, you always made sure to assure him how happy he made you, and this cycle of familiarity, even during the apocalypse, made him feel like the luckiest man in the world, worthy of some happiness after so much loss.

He remained in a light sleep throughout the night, making sure you were okay, alive, and breathing. It was just the flu, of course, but with limited resources, everything felt truly more serious. Joel, however, found it slightly strange when, almost near dawn, you tilted your hip towards him, and knowing where that would lead, he hesitated. You were sick, after all.

“Joel, please…” You asked in a hoarse and low voice, rubbing your hip against his. Joel was holding you tightly, and it didn't take long for his body to react, pure instinct. Even sick, it was like a need to have him, and part of you found it completely unfair, after his long day, not to satisfy him the way he deserved.

How could he deny you anything when you asked like that? It was almost impossible.

Joel obeyed your request, taking off your panties and the worn pajama pants he was wearing, feeling how wet you already were before going on, hesitating when he heard you cough.

“M’darlin’ are ya’ sure ‘bout that?” He was making sure you wanted that, but when you once again moved your body towards him, he didn't ask again, entering slowly and giving you some time to adjust; Joel was big enough that even after so many times, these moments were still necessary.

It was nothing like the times you fucked until dawn tirelessly; it was slow, affectionate, his lips on your neck while his hands played with and pinched your nipples. Joel whispered sweet words in your ear, the low moans and the sound of your bodies colliding gently as the sun rose over the horizon were all you heard.

“Cum inside of me, please, Joel. That’s the only medicine I need.” You pleaded, on the verge of reaching your peak, feeling your body soften with the growing pleasure, and he groaned a little louder.

“Gonna fill ya’ up with my milk, sweetheart. Don’t worry ‘bout it. This sweet ‘n tight cunt’s all mine. My poor sick baby, daddy’s gonna give what ya’ want.” He said, his voice trembling, and as his movements became more intense, his thick accent reverberating in the back of your mind as the two of you reached a simultaneous orgasm, Joel definitely filled you with his seed.

Perhaps because of the flu, or the fact that he still remained inside you for a good few minutes, filling every possible space and covering your shoulder and the curve of your neck with kisses, you dissociated, content and definitely full of him.

Joel and you still had a few hours before you needed to head out for the day's tasks, so he slowly withdrew from you, checked your temperature once more, relieved that all that seemed to remain was the sweat from your recent activity, and pulled you to his chest again, adjusting the blankets and allowing himself to fall asleep while listening to the loud beating of your heart and your heavy breathing.

Gods, how he loved you.

[buckyalpine]

Imagine feeling needy and sad when Bucky pays more attention to your very round, pregnant tummy instead of you. I mean he doesn't actually. You're his entire world and you come first no matter what but currently, you feel like the little super soldier you're carrying is getting much more love than you.

"How's my little plum" Bucky cooed, peppering kisses all over your tummy, snuggling against your skin after coming back from a mission. 2 weeks had never felt longer and you were craving your husband more than ever. As soon as you heard the rumble of the jet, you waddled from your room as best as you could, panting out of breath by the time you reached the living room.

You couldn't wait to have your Bucky safe in your arms again, giggling at the way he tossed his bag and jacket to the side haphazardly, running straight to you. You braced yourself for an attack and flurry of hugs and kisses he always greeted you with but it never came.

You squeaked as he picked you up and set you on the couch, lifting your shirt up to curl up with your belly, sighing contently as his scruffy cheek pressed against your warm skin. You brought your hand down to play with his soft cropped hair, longing to feel his arms hold you, his warm lips all over your face, his sweet words of how much he missed you and how happy he was to be back home with you again. Instead, the tiny soldier in your belly was hogging up all the time with his daddy.

Of course it was ridiculous. You knew Bucky loved you more than anything else in the world; he doted on you all the time, you were the most precious thing in this life. He adored you more than ever, worshipping your every being and ever since you'd told him he was going to be a father, he'd fallen in love with you more. You were giving him the family he dreamed of with his dream girl, you trusted him, you were carrying his little baby.

You will always be everything to him.

Yet you couldn't help but feel a little left out of the welcome party, your throat feeling tight, eyes starting to fill with tears. You missed him soo much and he was still busy nuzzling into your tummy, but not busy enough to miss the whimper that slipped past your lips.

"Baby?" Bucky's head shot up as soon as he heard what sounded like a cry but it couldn't be. His eyes filled with worry when he saw your sweet fallen face, indeed crying and poorly hiding it. "Why are you crying angel, what happened, is everything okay?"

His mind started to run a hundred miles a minute, ready to swoop you away to the med wing when shook your head, another wave of tears pooling when he reached out to wipe your cheeks.

"It's silly" You shrug with a sniffle but Bucky isn't having it.

"Tell me what's wrong baby" his baby blues pled with you, waiting to fix what was wrong because why was his perfect angel sad.

"I didn't get a hello kiss" You say with a pout and Bucky found himself stuck between wanting to cry and loving you more.

"I'm sorry, mama" Bucky coos, scooping you right up into his arms, cupping your cheek and placing a kiss onto your nose. Then your forehead. "M'sorry" He places a gently kiss to your still pouted lips, repeatedly peppering kisses till he hears you giggle. "You deserve all the hello kisses angel"

"I thought you didn't miss me" You whisper with your face pressed against his neck, breathing in his scent, all the anxiety you felt with him gone washing away in an instant.

"I missed you more than you know, baby" His lips move against your hair, "How could I not miss the pretty girl I fell so in love with, you're it for me"

He kept you in his arms, his hand slipping up your shirt to rub your back, the simple action nearly lulling you to sleep. He picks you up with ease, deciding to run a bath because he doesn't want to be away from your side for another minute and he keeps himself glued to you the entire time. Your back is against his chest, his hands coming up to massage your tense shoulders, kissing down your neck. He doesn't let go when it's time to rinse off, standing with both hands over your tummy as the hot water cascades over you both. He gets you dried off with a nice fluff towel before taking you to bed to sleep, frowning when you shuffled around in discomfort.

"I think your little plum misses you" You giggled between a squeak as baby Bucky kicked in your tummy, refusing to sleep until he heard his daddy's voice say goodnight. You gave him a pointed look as Bucky grinned, shimmying down the bed to rest between your legs at eyelevel with your belly. "Come talk to your son please"

"Quit kicking your ma" Bucky whispered, his metal hand patting the area where his baby boys tiny feet caused a ruckus, "time to let mommy rest, plum"

"Unbelievable" you huffed as the kicking stopped immediately, your little one settling contently while you also got comfortable against Bucky's chest. "So in love with his daddy"

"He gets it from you" Bucky smiled down at your content form, already half asleep, snug in his arms, "Pretty angel"

[manmuncher777]

EVERYTHING YOU DESERVE

ROOMMATE TOJI X READER SMUT MDNI

- A/N - was listening to wine pon you by doja cat on loop while writing this. Enjoy little ones

- what happens when toji starts to enjoy your little housewife role a little too much

Living with Toji Fushiguro was supposed to be a temporary arrangement. Split rent, split chores, simple boundaries. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

You weren’t even sure when it started — when you began acting like his little housewife without even meaning to. Cooking extra portions for dinner because you knew he’d come home starving. Folding his laundry with yours because you were doing it anyway. Picking up his favorite snacks on your grocery runs, pretending it was no big deal.

You didnt know what it was, you just got an urge to take care of him, he worked incredibly hard, almost always coming back exhausted. It was the tiredness you could see on him, that weight that he carried on his shoulders. You wanted to ease that for him, after all he was helpful to you as well, always there when you needed him.

An even despite you guys not always being around each other due to schedules, you got on instantly. Just kind of slotting into this lifestyle without ever really addressing it

And Toji — Toji didn’t make it easier.

If anything, he seemed to love it.

He’d lean in close when you handed him his coffee in the mornings, voice still rough with sleep.

“Thanks, sweetheart. What would I do without you?”

He’d ruffle your hair affectionately when you handed him his folded t-shirts, flashing that lazy, crooked grin that made your stomach flip.

“Gonna make some poor bastard real happy someday.”

You’d always roll your eyes, laugh it off, pretend your heart wasn’t pounding so loud it echoed in your ears.

You got along too well — that was the problem.

The banter, the teasing, the way he’d steal bites from your plate when you weren’t looking, the way he always seemed to find an excuse to touch you — a hand brushing your lower back as he reached past you, a casual tug on the sleeve of your hoodie when he wanted your attention.

It was easy.

Dangerously easy.

But you weren’t dating.

You were just… friends. Roommates. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Even when he walked around the apartment shirtless, towel slung low on his hips after a shower, hair still dripping down his neck.

Even when he shot you little smirks across the kitchen, voice dipping into that low, teasing drawl just to watch you squirm.

Even when he made dumb flirty comments you tried to laugh off, like when he caught you baking cookies one night and said,

“Gonna spoil me rotten if you keep this up, housewife.”

You had no idea if he meant anything by it. But you felt it — the way the tension thrummed low between you two, coiling tighter every day you pretended not to notice.

And honestly?

You weren’t sure how much longer you could pretend.

The door slammed shut behind him with a heavy thud.

The kind of slam that said bad day.

Long, brutal, and bloody.

Toji shrugged out of his jacket with a grunt, running a hand through his hair, tension practically radiating off him in thick, heavy waves. His body ached, his knuckles were raw, his patience was worn thin — and the apartment was too damn quiet.

He called out your name, voice low and rough.

No answer.

A frown pulled at his mouth. He kicked off his boots and padded through the apartment, following the faintest hints of movement — the soft clatter of plates, the distant scent of something warm and delicious cooking.

But first, his bedroom caught his eye. And what he saw made him pause in the doorway.

Laid neatly across his bed were a set of fresh towels and clean clothes — sweats, a t-shirt, boxers, everything he could possibly need — folded with a kind of careful tenderness he hadn’t been on the receiving end of in… fuck, he didn’t even know how long.

And on top of the pile, a little note in your handwriting, simple and sweet:

“Bath’s ready. Dinner’s almost done. Relax a little, yeah?”

He just stood there for a second, staring at it.

A bath. You’d run him a damn bath.

It was stupid — soft shit he didn’t deserve — but the tightness in his chest shifted, loosening into something that felt dangerously close to affection. Without a word, he grabbed the towels and padded down the hall to the bathroom.

The door was already slightly open, warm steam curling into the air.

And when he stepped inside?

Fuck.

You hadn’t just run the water.

You’d gone all out.

The tub was nearly overflowing with bubbles, rich with the smell of whatever expensive bath salts you kept under the sink — lavender and something warm and clean, the kind of scent that immediately eased the tight coil of stress in his gut. The lights were dimmed low, soft and golden, and there was even a goddamn candle flickering on the edge of the sink.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan.

It was too much.

Too nice.

Too thoughtful.

He didn’t deserve this.

He didn’t deserve you.

Still, he stripped out of his clothes, sank into the hot water, and let himself have it.

Just for tonight.

Just for you.

He closed his eyes, head tipping back against the porcelain, the heat working its way deep into his battered muscles.

He could almost pretend — for a minute — that he wasn’t what he was.

That he was just a man with a girl who cared enough to make things soft for him when the world outside was so fucking hard.

By the time he hauled himself out of the tub and dried off, the worst of the day’s tension had melted away, leaving him heavy-limbed and a little dazed.

He pulled on the clean clothes you left him — the fabric soft and worn in all the right ways — and padded barefoot back toward the kitchen.

And there you were.

Dressed in your cute little pajamas, tank top and shorts with little hello kitty face printed over them, hair a little messy, standing at the stove like some dream he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch.

The table was already set — two plates, forks, a bottle of that beer he liked.

You were humming softly under your breath, moving around with an ease that made his heart ache. When you turned and caught sight of him, your whole face lit up, a smile so sweet and soft it nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

“Perfect timing,” you said, gesturing for him to sit. “Food’s ready.”

And Toji — this man who had stared down death more times than he could count, who had blood on his hands and scars he didn’t dare show anyone — He stood there, staring at you like you’d hung the goddamn stars.

It hit him all at once, sudden and brutal — how badly he wanted you.

Not just your body (though fuck, that too) — but you.

Your kindness. Your laughter. The way you made a home out of nothing but four shitty walls and a broken man.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he muttered, voice rough, a little thick.

You just shrugged, smiling again, so casually sweet it made his chest ache. “Could tell You had a rough day. I just wanted to help.”

He sat down heavily at the table, hands still damp from the towel, heart pounding far too fast for a man who was supposed to be good at hiding how he felt.

His eyes stayed on you — drinking you in like he was starving — while you fussed around, plating the food, grabbing him an extra napkin, topping off his beer.

Fuck.

You were dangerous.

Way more dangerous than anything he fought on the streets.

And the worst part?

He didn’t even want to resist.

Toji sat down heavily at the table, the chair creaking under his weight as you set a plate in front of him, still warm and steaming.

The smell alone made his stomach growl — rich and hearty, everything he didn’t realize he’d been craving all day.

“You didn’t have to go all out,” he muttered, voice rougher than he meant. But you just smiled at him, a little sheepish, and shrugged like it was nothing.

“You had a rough day. I just wanted to make it better.” You repeated again, trying to get him to understand you never minded doing these things for him, if anything you enjoyed it

Fuck.

The words hit him harder than they should’ve.

Worse, the way you said them — casual, sweet, so unaware of the way you were gutting him alive without even trying — made it even worse.

He picked up his fork, stabbing at the food like it had done something to offend him.

Took a bite.

And immediately stopped breathing.

Holy shit.

It was… good.

No, it was fucking amazing.

Home-cooked. Perfectly seasoned. Comforting in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Each bite eased something tight inside his chest, like you were fixing parts of him he didn’t even realize were broken.

He watched you flit around the kitchen out of the corner of his eye — opening his beer for him, sitting across the table with your own plate, babbling a little about your day — and he couldn’t help it.

He stared.

You were just… so fucking pretty.

Hair a little messy. A faint smudge of flour on your cheek. Wearing nothing special.

You could’ve been wearing a paper bag and he still would’ve thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He shifted in his seat, feeling the beginnings of a problem he really didn’t want to deal with — not while you were sitting right there, looking at him with those big, bright eyes, like he was something good instead of a monster.

“You’re staring,” you said after a minute, cheeks flushing under the weight of his gaze.

Toji grunted, pretending to focus on his food again.

But it was hopeless.

Every little thing you did — the way you tucked your legs up on the chair, the way you smiled without even realizing it, the way you kept sneaking glances at him like you were worried he wasn’t eating enough —

It was killing him.

Fucking killing him.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of him like this.

No expectations. No strings. Just… you, trying to make his night a little easier.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, setting his fork down with a heavy clink.

“You’re gonna kill me, y’know that?” he muttered, voice low and rough.

You blinked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

Toji just shook his head, sitting back in his chair and dragging a hand through his hair like it could fix the mess you were making of him.

“You have no fuckin’ idea,” he said under his breath, half to himself, half to you.

No idea how goddamn good you are.

No idea how bad he wants you.

He took another slow look at you — sweet, smiling, so damn proud of yourself for making him a nice dinner — and felt something inside him snap.

This was bad.

This was real bad.

Because Toji didn’t just want to fuck you.

He wanted to keep you.

And that was a whole different kind of dangerous.

The second you looked away — just a blink, just a tiny little thing — Toji was up from his chair.

The scrape of it against the floor made you jump, wide-eyed as he stalked around the table toward you like something primal, something starved.

“Toji—?” you started, confused.

You didn’t even get the words out before he was in front of you, hands dropping heavy on your thighs, dragging you forward in your seat like it wasn’t even a question.

You gasped, instinctively grabbing his shoulders, but he was already lowering himself down, kneeling between your legs like you were something sacred.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, voice so deep it barely sounded human, “you’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Your brain was scrambling, struggling to catch up.

You opened your mouth to say something — to protest, to ask what the hell he was doing — but he just pressed his forehead against your bare thigh, breathing you in like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“I can’t—I can’t fuckin’ stand it,” he said roughly, voice breaking a little at the edges. “You takin’ care of me like that. You bein’ so fuckin’ sweet. Lookin’ at me like you don’t even know how perfect you are.”

His hands slid up, gripping your hips with enough force to leave bruises if he wanted to — and god, he wanted to — and you whimpered, heat flashing through you so fast it made you dizzy.

“Toji—” you whispered again, but softer now, more like a plea than a protest.

He lifted his head, finally meeting your eyes.

And the look on his face — raw, desperate, hungry — knocked the breath right out of your lungs.

“You ruined me, y’know that?” he rasped, voice rough. “You—makin’ me dinner. Leavin’ me notes. Lookin’ at me like that. Bein’ so fuckin’ good.”

His mouth found your inner thigh, kissing you through the thin material of your shorts, his stubble dragging rough against your skin.

You whimpered, fingers twisting in his hair without even meaning to.

“I gotta thank you,” he muttered, voice muffled against your skin. “Gotta make you feel good too. Need you to know—fuck, need you to know what you mean to me.”

His hands slid up further, gripping your waist and lifting you up like it was nothing, setting you down on the table in front of him, plates and cutlery clattering to the side like he couldn’t care less.

Your legs fell open instinctively, breath coming in short, shaky bursts, and Toji just groaned, like the sight of you wrecked him.

“Shiiit, sweetheart,” he breathed, “you’re gonna kill me.”

Then he was on you — mouth dragging hot and desperate over your thighs, hands everywhere, pulling you closer, touching you like he couldn’t get enough — like he would never get enough.

And you — you were still reeling, still trying to understand how you’d gone from sitting at dinner to having Toji, your roommate, on his knees for you —

But god, you didn’t care.

Not when he was looking at you like that. Not when he was touching you like you were something precious. Not when he was whispering things against your skin like thank you and need you and so fucking good for me.

You tangled your fingers tighter in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Toji,” you breathed, voice breaking.

He looked up at you — pupils blown wide, breathing heavy — and grinned, all teeth and wicked promise.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rasped, mouth brushing your inner thigh again, “I’m gonna take real good care of you now.”

You barely had time to whimper before he was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, nosing closer, breathing you in like he was memorizing every part of you.

And when he finally got your panties off — a slow drag down your legs, a filthy little groan rumbling low in his chest when he saw you — he just stared for a second, like you were something holy.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice wrecked, “so fuckin’ pretty for me.” Then his mouth was on you — warm, wet, perfect — and you cried out, back arching off the table. Toji just groaned, like the taste of you was better than anything he’d ever had.

“Goddamn,” he breathed against you, licking a slow stripe up your soaked pussy, “this all for me, sweetheart?”

You whimpered, hips bucking, too overwhelmed to answer — and he loved it. Mind reeling at the sight in front of you, something you wanted burned into your memory forever.

���Shh, shh,” he soothed, big hands sliding under your ass to hold you still, “gonna take care of you. Just let me, baby.”

He worked you open with his mouth, lazy and thorough like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted to savor every sound you made, every twitch and whimper and gasp. And he praised you the whole time — Telling you how good you tasted, how sweet you were, how perfect you felt.

“You’re doin’ so good for me,” he muttered, lips dragging wet over your clit, “so sweet, so fuckin’ sweet—”

Your thighs shook around his head, fingers digging into his messy dark hair, but he just growled low and held you there, mouthing at you like a man possessed. You were close, so close, and he knew it — could feel it in the way your body trembled, the desperate little whines falling from your lips.

“That’s it,” he rasped, voice all wrecked and rough, “come for me, sweetheart. Wanna taste you. Need it, need you.”

The words alone sent you over the edge —

A cry tearing from your throat as you came, thighs squeezing around his head, body shaking apart.

And Toji — fuck, Toji groaned, palming himself through his sweats like he couldn’t even help it, like just getting you off was enough to ruin him.

He kept licking you through it, slow and soft, until you were whimpering, too sensitive, pushing weakly at his head. Finally, finally, he pulled back — face wrecked, mouth shiny with you, eyes dark and wild.

He stood, towering over you, and god, he was hard, straining against his sweats.

But he didn’t reach for himself.

He reached for you.

Scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing, carried you to his room, dropped you on his bed like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held.

You blinked up at him, dazed, still panting — and he smiled, all soft and wicked.

“C’mere, baby,” he said, voice low and tender, “ain’t done with you yet.”

The look in his eyes taking it out of you, the care in his eyes. Like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen. You rarely got to see him so soft with you. And you werent complaining. To have him so happy to please you was unreal.

He stripped off his sweats with one hand, tossing them aside — and you whimpered when you saw him, thick and hard and dripping for you.

Toji knelt on the bed, settling between your legs, and stroked himself slow, teasing, as he looked at you.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he said, voice gone hoarse, “gonna make you feel even better. Gonna fuck you real nice, sweetheart.”

Huge hands finding your hips once more, flipping you onto your stomach while you just let him. Hands finding comfort in his bed sheets, the scent of him wafting into your senses.

You felt the bed dip under his hulking frame, instinctively arching your hips, begging for him. He had ruined you just as much as you ruined him, and now you needed him inside you like your lungs needed air.

“Toji- please~”

“Shhh, s’okay pretty, im here.” Leaning down, pressing his front against your back as his lips traced over the shell of your ear.

He lined himself up, not pushing in yet, just rubbing the thick head of his cock against your soaked folds — dragging slow, teasing circles around your clit — and you whimpered, hips canting up desperately.

Toji just grinned.

“Such a needy little thing,” he murmured, “got you all worked up, huh? Gotta take care of you.”

And then — finally — he pushed in. A gutteral groan leaving him with every inch he sunk into you

Slow and thick and deep — splitting you open inch by inch, the stretch burning in the best way.

You cried out, hands scrambling in the sheets, but he just shushed you, wrapping one of his thick arms around your neck, pulling your head back for a kiss, keeping you in a gentle headlock.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby,” he whispered, voice ragged with the effort of holding himself back, “so good for me. Takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

He bottomed out with a shuddering groan, burying himself inside you, so deep you swore you could feel him in your throat.

He stayed there for a second — breathing hard, kissing the back of your head — like he was trying to memorize the feeling of you wrapped around him.

And then he started to move.

Slow, deep thrusts at first, grinding his hips down with every roll of his body, making you feel every inch of him.

And he wouldn’t shut up —Praising you between every thrust, every kiss.

“So good, sweetheart, feel so fuckin’ good—”

“God, you’re perfect, you’re perfect—”

“Never lettin’ you go, you hear me? You’re mine now.”

You could barely answer — barely breathe — but you didn’t have to.

He could feel everything you were giving him in the way your body clung to him, the way you gasped and moaned and writhed under him.

And when you started to tighten around him, clenching so sweet and desperate he could barely see straight, he lost it.

“That’s it,” he rasped, hips stuttering, “c’mon, baby. Come for me again. Wanna feel you, need it—”

His thrusts speeding up now, body moulded to yours. His grip around your neck squeezing lightly, trying to get you there, needing to get you there

You shattered around him with a broken cry, body arching, one hand flying to the forearm wrapped son perfectly around your neck, nails digging into the skin. Needing to touch him in any way you can. Toji groaned, fucking you through it, chasing his own high with reckless, desperate thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasped, “so fuckin’ good—”

He came with a ragged moan, hips jerking against you, spilling deep inside you, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

You lay there tangled together, both of you panting, sweaty, wrecked.

Toji kissed your neck, your shoulder, every inch of skin he could reach, murmuring low praises between kisses.

“Sweetest thing I ever had,” he whispered against your skin, voice shaking a little, “my sweet girl.”

You shivered, tears pricking your eyes at the tenderness of it.

And when he finally pulled out, groaning at the loss, he just wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you close against his chest like he couldn’t stand the idea of letting you go.

“You’re mine now, sweetheart,” he whispered into your hair, voice rough and raw and true.

“Mine.”

[aceecee]

Insatiable - Extra #9

TW/Tags: some are suggestive

Masterlist

They react to their contact name saved on your phone.

MC - ‘Wife’ 

“Hey [Name]?” the woman clinging to your back while you wake up asks. You turn around and greet her with a sleepy smile that grows bigger when she places a kiss on your cheek. You give her a sleepy nod.

“I was wondering what you have me saved as on your phone.”

It’s an odd question to be asked first thing in the morning but as always you indulge her. You reach for your nightstand where your phone resides, unlocking it and passing it over to her. You don’t pay attention to what she does next, sleep catching on the corner of your eyes. So, it’s a surprise when she throws her full weight on you. She plants numerous kisses on you, each one too fast for you, before getting off and tugging on your arms in an attempt to get you off the bed.

“Let’s go.”

You stare at her in confusion.

“Let’s go get married. We can plan a proper wedding later but let’s make it real right now.”

Caleb - ‘Dude’

“DUDE?!?”

Ah, there goes your peace. Shattered so easily by one man. 

Two arms reach for your shoulders and shake you awake. You swat at the arms as roughly as possible, already aware of the menace who’s doing it. 

“Shortcake,” he whines. 

With a sign, you finally crack your eyes open, glaring at the man child. The one who disturbed your precious sleep. 

“Why do you have me saved as Dude?” he pouts at you.

[“It’s what you deserve.”] 

You turn around and try to go back to sleep.

A heavy weight collapses on top of you. “I’m not getting up until you change it.”

Jokes on him, his weight on you is comforting and before you know it you’re fast asleep.

Caleb whines a little, even poking your cheek in hopes you’ll wake up but it does nothing. Your peaceful expression wins him over and soon soft snores are leaving him.

He’ll just continue in the morning.

Zayne - ‘zayniee’

“I overheard a conversation between two nurses today,” the man speaks into your neck. He’s currently holding you in his lap, in a tight grip. It’s common for him to seek comfort in you particularly after a long day. You rub the skin on his hand that’s on your hip, telling him to continue. “They were discussing what name their partner’s had them saved as. I don’t know why but it stuck with me…”

His unspoken question doesn’t go unnoticed. 

You press a kiss to his cheek, it delights you when he gets like this. You reach into your pants pocket, unlocking your phone and finding his contact. You feel his hair tickle you as he moves his head to see better.

“Of course,” he chuckles. You feel his grip tighten on you. “Only you can call me that.” He’s silent for a few seconds before continuing. “It’s a privilege only granted to you. Don’t I deserve a reward?” 

You roll your eyes playfully at his childish behaviour before getting up and tugging him into the bedroom.

The man has the audacity to sport a bright grin. 

Sylus - ‘Boss’

You love a night routine, especially after a long day.

Taking a warm bath or shower, scrubbing yourself clean of any dirt then drying yourself off and changing into comfortable sleeping clothes. You follow it by your skincare, all while thinking of your nice comfortable bed that you’ve missed. 

So, when you’re greeted by Sylus lazing on your bed like it’s his (you don’t care if he paid for it), scrolling through your phone, frustration rings through you at an alarming speed. The towel around your neck goes flying at him only to be stopped in the air by a red mist holding it in place.

“Now, that’s just rude,” he teases. “Here I was hoping to cuddle and instead I’m under attack,” he clutches the area where his heart is.

You roll your eyes at him. [“Give me my phone, you ass.”]

“What? This little thing?” He holds the phone up, smirking when you nod. “Only if you explain why I’m saved as Boss?” You know the close-eyed smile he gives you is not meant to be as carefree as it looks. 

[“Well…you are my boss, are you not?”]

The man blinks at you.

“I’ve been inside you.”

Xavier - ‘Sleepyhead’

His arms are wrapped tightly around you. 

The two of you are currently at your place. It’s your monthly cooking class for him. It all started when he made (and failed…spectacularly) you some pancakes. He proposed that you teach him after but due to your hectic schedules you can only do it once a month. To you it was an opportunity to better his cooking but to the sly fucker, it was all an excuse to have you to himself. 

An entire day, with no else around? Just you and him. It was heaven for him.

The rice dish you prepared together is on the stove, on low. It’ll need an hour more to cook so to pass the time, Xavier demanded cuddles and you wanted to watch your show. He flashed you those dumb blue eyes and so, you reached a compromise. 

That leads you to now, sitting on his lap on the couch while watching the new episode of your show. “So, it was the stepmother all along,” Xavier whispers into your neck. You nod, [“I told you so.”] You offer him the bowl of popcorn, stuffing some into his mouth when he just opens it in response. He should know better than to doubt your knowledge of shitty dramas. 

Your phone pings with a notification. You reach for the coffee table and pick it up. It’s a message from Mara confirming about your lunch date tomorrow. You think nothing of it as you respond, not realising Xavier’s focused look on your screen.

“If she’s Wife then what am I saved as?” he asks. No answer other than Husband will suffice but you don’t know that. You show him. 

“Sleepyhead? Why am I Sleepyhead? Why not ‘Love of my life’, or ‘Only one for me’?”

You laugh at the offended look on his face, completely unaware of the danger you’ve placed yourself in. Suddenly, you’re thrown back on the couch with him hovering above you.

“I’m angry now,” he leans in to kiss you. “Since it’s your fault, fix it.”

Rafayel - ‘Public Nuisance’ 

You had been curious about Rafayel’s process of using items like seashells in his works. As a result of your ask, you had spent the entire day together. First, gathering seashells on the beach. You should’ve gone back to his house after but he insisted on eating first, stating you’ll need it for energy. 

And he was right. You’ve collapsed on his couch, your arms are about to fall off. If you knew the process involved grinding the seashells over and over again until they became powder, you would have never signed on in the first place. But you had to admit, it was cute how excited he was to tell you all about it. It’s your favourite thing in the world, watching those you love tell you about things that bring them joy. 

He laughs when you let out a groan. “I never said it would be easy, pretty.” You can only pick your head up and glare in response. “Will you forgive me if I order some food?” he sports an amused expression as you eagerly nod. “Where’s your phone then?” You point your leg in the direction of your bag.

Rafayel digs through your bag as you close your eyes and rest. It shouldn’t excite him that you trust him around your things. He easily unlocks your things since you never kept your password a secret. On the screen, he comes across a notification of an old message. 

Ha! What poor sucker did she name Pu…

Concerned with how quiet he’s being, you open your eyes, only to stare right into your screen. “Explain this to me, brat,” he huffs. You raise an eyebrow in question. He leans his face right into yours. “Who names their lover that?”

[“Maybe you shouldn’t perfectly embody that name, then?”] You give him a smirk.

You swear his eye twitches, his reactions are exactly why you love teasing him. 

“You’re on a Rafayel ban from now on, pretty. No more of me until you apologize and change the name,” he storms off, dramatically closing his bedroom door with a loud thud.

The doorbell still rings though, ten minutes later, as a delivery man drops off food.

AN: Should I stop making Caleb so puppy-like? Probably. Will I though? Nope.

Tag List: @serenity-loves-red @crimsonmarabou @reni502 @r0ckb1n @queenkymmie @plzdonutpercieveme @perqbeth @mephisto-with-a-knife @tumblingdevils @angelwhizpers @eolivy @yuurisfavblog @miuangel @young-adult-summer @loreleis-world

[jaesblogstuff]

Nature’s Disguise

┃An escape, retreat. (smut in the mix)

He needed to get away.

Not from you—never from you—but from everything else. The grind, the orders, the noise. The team could handle a week without him. Price didn’t even blink when he said, “Got somewhere to be. Just me and the bird.”

They all assumed it was somewhere hot, maybe near the water, somewhere the both of you could drink and sleep and disappear.

They had no idea it was a hidden lodge in the hills of Switzerland (a dream really). A place so deep in the woods that the nearest neighbor was half a mile out, and even they only showed up once a season.

He chose it because of you. Because somewhere along the way, between the shootouts and the silence, he’d realized you were building your own little world inside the apartment—one plant at a time.

Every time you said you were “just running errands,” you’d return with arms full of green. Sunlight catchers. Ceramic pots. Creeping vines, blooming things, leaves that touched the ceiling now. You talked to them like they were your babies. And he loved it.

He’d watched it happen without saying a word. Then quietly, without telling you, found a place where the world matched the one inside your head.

And when he brought you there—when he opened the door to a hand-built lodge tucked into the trees, with windows that stretched from floor to sky and the scent of pine wrapped in the wind, he didn’t say this is for you. He just watched your eyes soften, and smiled.

But that’s only half of it.

The other half, the one no one else would understand, is that he brought you out here so he could love you fully. Loudly. Shamelessly.

So he could touch you like you deserved.

So he could fuck you like he was made to.

And out here, where no one could hear, he did.

He kept his promise.

⸻

You don’t remember which night it was, the second? The third? But you remember the way he looked at you from across the kitchen, shirtless, drinking red wine and leaning against the counter with that low, heavy heat in his eyes.

You remember him walking toward you slow, like a man who had nowhere else to be but here, between your legs, on his knees, in your throat.

He took you apart in that soft, sprawling bed until your legs trembled. Until your nails left marks on his back. Until you could barely speak.

He fucked you with his mouth first. Long, slow drags of his tongue, groaning into you like he’d starved for weeks. Then his fingers. Then his cock.

Deep. Unrelenting.

Each thrust pulled another sound from your lungs until you were clawing at the sheets, moaning brokenly, barely able to cry out his name.

And even then, he hadn’t stopped. Hadn’t let up. Had only leaned down, kissed the corner of your jaw, and whispered, “I want to hear you again. Louder. C’mon, love—let me have it.”

And you gave it to him.

Every breath. Every whimper. Every shattered cry of Simon, please—

Until the next morning, when you woke up and couldn’t say a damn thing.

⸻

He took care of you after that.

No teasing. No smugness. Just quiet pride and careful hands.

You hadn’t raised a finger since the trip started.

He’s cooked every meal—woke before you just to slice fresh fruit and make you coffee. He’s drawn your baths with lavender oil. Rough hands, gentle touch, he creamed your skin in silence, like worship.

And in the quiet of the pool out back—surrounded by nothing but pines and wind and late spring sun, he kisses you like the world ended and only you two made it out.

Slow. Careful. Like you’re something ancient and sacred.

You float, legs around his waist, while he holds you against his chest, the water warm and still.

You try to whisper something; something like thank you, or I love you, or even just his name, but it’s still not there. Your voice, completely shot.

He smiles, presses a kiss to your throat.

“S’alright,” he murmurs. “I know what you’re saying.”

And then, quieter, against the shell of your ear:

“If this is all we ever had, I’d be just fine.”

Because for the first time in forever, the world is silent.

And it’s just the two of you.

Just how he wants it.

i hate this, kinda

[unkn0wng1rly]

suguru geto

cw: bf!suguru x gf!reader, mentions of overstim, cute aftercare, gentle n caring suguru

18+

all your past relationships were fine.

just fine.

the men weren’t half bad, the sex (the three times you had it) was ok, you’d cum once but it was all thanks to yourself anyways.

you thought maybe that was just your love life, mediocre men.

but then he happened.

suguru came and changed everything for you.

he was calm where other men would flip, patient where others would grow tired of waiting and careful when you were vulnerable.

suguru consoled you through your mental breaks, took care of you on the days you couldn’t even get out of bed and all the while telling you how much he loved you.

you thought you didn’t deserve a man like him, you knew you didn’t. it was all far too good to be true.

but it didn’t even stop there.

no.

it wasn’t just his personality.

as vulgar at it sounded—his sex skills were something else.

you didn’t even know that your body could react in the ways he made it. it was like he brought your senses to life with his touch.

when you’d told him that you’d only ever had one orgasm, he knew it must be dealt with accordingly.

suguru wanted to catch you up to speed with every orgasm you lost out on, every time you should of been screaming someone’s name, his name.

which led you to your current position.

suguru loved overstimulation on you, it was his all time favourite.

he couldn’t get enough of the way you cried hopelessly when he told you to take it, when he told you he knew you could handle it.

the way your body would freeze for a moment, forcing another orgasm you didn’t know you had stored up inside you.

the way your poor thighs trembled when he wouldn’t stop fucking into you even when he’d promised he was done.

and he was always right, you knew it and he knew it too.

you could handle it, you always took whatever he gave you no matter how many sobs you let out, no matter how much you whimpered and sniffled.

you took it like a champ.

“that’s it baby, ain’t that feel nice? you got another one for me? y’gonna let me see that pretty face of yours cry out f’me won’t ya.”

and you would nod like the good girl you were, completely delirious and high off his praise, his belief in you.

his cock would nestle so perfectly against your cervix, pummelling into the place he knew you adored, the place you didn’t even know existed until you met him.

you’d come over and over on his cock until he finally deemed it satisfactory, pleased with the fucked out look on your face.

and the aftercare that followed? heaven.

suguru would promptly pick you up, seeing as you didn’t even know what planet you were on, run a warm bath with expensive suds and soaps he’d bought just for this.

he’d light candles and place you in, cleaning your whole body for you and washing your hair, giving your scalp the best message you’d ever experienced.

it was extra some would say, but after just demanding so much out of your body, the least he could do was make sure you were relaxed.

he’d always have pyjamas ready for you, dressing you and kissing your neck while he dried your hair.

“i love you so fuckin’ much, you’re my reason for existence.” he’d mutter, holding you tight for a moment, relishing in your touch.

on the nights you just wanted to sleep, he’d make sure the bed was perfect for you, pillows puffed up and blanket nice and toasty, caressing your head as you softly dozed off in his arms, feeling like the worlds most loved individual.

other nights where you felt like watching a movie or just relaxing, he’d cook or order take out depending on your mood, setting up the living room with just the right vibes.

there was a time where amongst all of his gestures, you found yourself balling your eyes out and he immediately became horrified, the usual calm manner he expressed long gone.

“what’s wrong angel? did i do too much this time?” his hands coming to cup your face as you looked up at him with tears streaming like a free fall down your face.

when you shook your head no, a little of his panic went away. “it’s just..”

“i love you so much and i don’t know what i did to deserve you.”

setting the plates of salmon and rice down to the side, he brought you onto his lap where you cuddled into him, his large arms wrapped around you.

suguru’s gentle voice caressed your ears, the same tone he always used when he was telling you just how much you meant to him.

“don’t say that, you deserve me just as much as i deserve you.” he pressed a kiss against your temple, rubbing your back soothingly.

“i’d be nothing without you, so you deserve every single part of me for making me whole.”

suguru had been sent from the heavens to heal you from everything that had happened to you in the past, he was your future now.

and you honestly wouldn’t of wanted it any other way.

[angelovi]

Simon who needs relief, fucks his girl, but she asks to stop!!:( what would happen?? 🤔

Simon’s girl that just needs to be comforted.

After a grueling day at work, fatigue settled heavily on your shoulders. The hours dragged on, and your boss’s harsh words about your mistakes felt like blows, echoing in your mind. Now, at the end of this rugged day, you yearned for a moment of peace from the chaos.

All you wanted was to be in your husband's arms, listening to him whisper comforting words into your ear. It was all you longed for throughout the day, the only reason you kept pushing.

As you turned the key and opened the front door, warm, delicious aromas enveloped you. Inside, you saw Simon in the kitchen, gracefully preparing dinner. You set your bags down with a soft thud, catching his attention and momentarily breaking the evening's peaceful rhythm.

A sigh escapes your mouth, and you feel utterly exhausted, just wanting to go to sleep. “Rough day, love?”

He trails soft, tantalizing kisses down the curve of your neck, each touch sending a shiver through you. “Maybe I can make it better..” he gently guides you toward the couch, his fingers play at the hem of your shirt, teasingly inching it upwards. He kisses down the flat of your stomach, warm and inviting, as if savoring every moment.

But you find the courage to softly push him away, your voice barely above a whisper, “Not now, Simon.”

He freezes, his lips pausing in their gentle assault on your neck. He pulls back slightly, his brow furrowing in concern as he searches your face. He releases you and takes a step back, running a hand through his messy hair. “Alright, love. You okay?”

The weight of the day’s events crashes down on you, each moment threatening to spill over. You fight tears, your throat tight and eyes glistening. Just then, Simon notices your struggle and wraps his arms around you.

“What’s going on love? You're crying.”

You start rambling about everything that went wrong at work today and how you feel completely drained, your energy sapped and your spirit weighed down as if the relentless demands of life have left you feeling utterly exhausted and incapable of moving forward.

Simon listens patiently, one hand gently stroking your hair while the other rubs soothing circles on your back. His jaw tightens as you mention the particularly annoying aspects of your day, but he maintains his calm demeanor. He eventually interrupts your rant with a gentle, “shhh..”

He cups your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

“You know what you need?” his voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. “A hot bath yeah?”

You nod, feeling grateful that you have someone like him in your life.

Simon gives you a small smile, pleased that you're not arguing with him. He releases you and heads to the bathroom, starting the bath and adding some lavender-scented bubbles.

Soon, Simon appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “Bath’s ready love.”

He uncrosses his arms and approaches you with measured steps, his piercing gaze softening with each movement. He gently takes your hand, guiding you toward the bathroom. “C’mon you deserve some pampering after the day you've had.”

As you enter the steamy bathroom, you're engulfed in a scent of lavender and vanilla. He turns to face you, his hands coming to cup your face. “Let's get you out of these work clothes, yeah?”

Simons's fingers make quick work of unbuttoning your blouse, his touch gentle and soothing. He helps you step out of your skirt and unhooks your bra, leaving you in your underwear.

His movements remain tender and careful as he guides you towards the tub. He kneels behind you, slowly sliding down the fabric of your panties, his touch soft and gentle against your skin. “There we go love..”

He helps you step into the warm, bubbly bath, his hands supporting your waist. He kneels beside the tub, his eyes level with yours as he ensures you're sitting comfortably.

Simon watches as you relax deeper into the tub, your tense muscles gradually unwinding. He picks up a fluffy washcloth and dips it into the water, squeezing out the excess before gently cleaning your arms and neck, his touch soothing and almost reverent.

As he cleans your shoulders, his thumbs kneading gently, Simon notices the tension knotted between your shoulder blades. He sets the washcloth aside and begins to massage the tight muscles, his strong fingers working in slow circles.

After helping you wash your hair and rinsing the soap away, he wraps a plush towel around your shoulders like a cocoon, enveloping you in its warmth. He sits beside the tub, his arm draped over his knee as he watches you gently. “You look exhausted love.”

Simon’s expression softens with concern, his eyes trailing over your face as he takes in the dark circles and the weariness that settled into your bones. He stands, holding out a hand to help you up. “Come on, lets get you dried off and into bed.”

His hands gently pat you dry, helping you slip into a comfy pair of pajamas. He leads you back to your shared bedroom, pulling back the covers so you can slip into bed without disturbing the sheets.

Simon sheds off his tactical vest and black tee before sliding into bed behind you. He carefully wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. “Im right here love, I got you.” his voice is a low murmur against your ear, hands automatically smoothing tangled hair away from your face.

After giving you a small kiss on the top of your head, he whispers before feeling yourself drift off.

“Thats my girl.”

Tried to come up with something as close to the request as possible. Hope this is right :)

[somejazzinthemorning]

snapshot.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: overuse of pet names because i'm a romantic, masturbation, mentions of sex. not beta-d so sorry for typos or mistakes ] - Word Count: 1K

you capture a candid photo of your boyfriend sleeping. little do you know, this innocent act sparks some ideas in his mind.

(i needed to do something after i saw him in boyfriend mode taking photos of his girl. hope this is a good way to make my comeback. soon i'll post about the little break I took. love you all. hope you enjoy) 🫶🏼

The morning sun pours its golden rays through the curtains. You wake up with its gentle kiss. The warm glow envelops you, seeming to prickling your naked skin. You find yourself nestled in its embrace, entangled in a sleepy haze, locked in the limbo between dreams and wakefulness.

You sigh as you open your eyes.

The gentle glow of the light dances around you, creating a peaceful ambiance that centers on the man lying next to you. Carlos. His head rests on the pillow; hair falling in disarray over his forehead.

Owning the image before you, your eyes don’t shy away from taking in the whole scene—the slightly parted lips, the shadow of his long eyebrows, the naked chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his slow breaths. There’s a serene vulnerability about him in that morning light, a beauty that begs to be immortalized.

And you know you can’t trust your mind for that. You can’t afford to have time tarnish it.

So you shift in bed and reach for the nightstand where your phone rests, and you aim the camera at Carlos. For a second, it seems a crime to so casually steal that image of beauty and serenity with something as mundane as a touch on a screen. Beauty like that deserves more effort.

Carlos stirs slightly, a fragment of a smile playing on his lips as he mumbles, with his eyes still closed,

“What are you doing?” There’s drowsiness in his voice, laced with a hint of amusement.

“Nothing,” you whisper softly. “You just looked so pretty.”

He smirks and runs his hands over his face. “I should feel violated,” he teases, extending his hands towards you, “My turn, now.”

Handing him the phone, you watch him. His gaze shifts to you with a different glint. You’re sitting on your knees in bed, the sheets around your legs, and nothing but your hair covering your chest. Reclining in bed, he points the camera at you. Instinctively, you cover your chest with your hands, the modesty you still hold translated into something similar to a pose.

Carlos lets out a soft groan. “No, no,” he protests, “you can’t hide those from me.”

“You want a photo of my boobs?”

“Sí, to have it as a keepsake in my wallet.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes and giggle at the sight of him. The sleepy eyes. The messy hair. The ridiculously overly feminine case on your iPhone that looks absurdly small in his big hairy hands. And all of this bathed in the soft glow of morning light and the memories of last night when you loved each other to sleep... God, you feel so lucky to have found this man.

Tilting your head to the photo, a faint smile grazes your lips as your gaze lingers on him, disregarding the phone pointing at you.

“The hair,” he directs.

This time, without even noticing, you were already obeying. You sweep your hair back, leaving the strands to cascade down your back. The soft sound of the clicks locks this moment into eternity. Looking down, you see the streaks of light cutting through your chest, drawing parallel lines over your naked bosom. You pass your fingers over it. Click. You take a deep breath and look in the direction of the light. Click. Your arms stretch over your head, in a casual stretch like you've done any morning, without a camera aiming at you. Click.

When you look back at your boyfriend, he’s smirking.

A mischievous twinkle awakens in his eyes. He’s enjoying this. Probably way more than you.

You let your fingers rest over your lips. Click. And then they hover over your jawline and your neck, which is still sore and probably painted with small hickeys. Click. Patiently, they glide over the curves of your chest with a fatherly touch, a tease enough to make your skin erupt into goosebumps. Before you dare to touch yourself, you look up.

“Do you like this?” His voice cuts the silence. And God, it’s so much deeper than before. “Tell me, love. Do you like having me here… watching you?” You nod. “Go ahead then. Play with them.”

You obey his command, gently pressing your fingertips against the buds on your chest and grazing over your nipples. Without realizing it, you squeeze your legs together. Carlos probably notices it because he moves in his place. When you look up, his hand is cradling his cock over the blanket. The power of his words and the sight of his hand on his cock are enough to make your breath hitch. You intensify your touch, tracing circles around your nipples, feeling them harden under your touch. Click. Your eyes never leave him as you continue to play with yourself, knowing you're putting on a show for him. The thought sends shivers down your spine and makes you wetter than before.

His hand doesn’t move too much, almost like he’s saving himself for you. You can see the tension building in him, the way his muscles are tense and his jaw clenched. It's a game of self-control, and you both know it.

"Spread your legs," he commands in a low voice. You obey without hesitation, spreading your legs wider and giving him a full view of your body. Click. "Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth. "I want to be inside you."

The mattress shifts, and as you look in his direction, you can see him crawl towards you. His eyes are dark with desire, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your heart race. Reaching for your chest, he kisses the spot your fingers are still pinching. He circles his tongue around your hard nipple, making you shiver, as if an electric current is flowing between the both of you. You arch into his touch, wanting more.

And then his teeth graze over your chest, ever so slightly, before he bites into it, making you gasp and whimper. The combination of pleasure and pain has you gripping the sheets tightly as he continues to tease and torment your sensitive nipples.

His hot breath is fanning over your face as he looks down at you, panting and begging for more. A smirk plays on his lips, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “Such a good girl,” he praises, before leaning in to kiss you again. This time, his tongue is demanding and forceful, exploring every inch of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you desperately try to deepen the connection.

His fingers trail down from your chest to your stomach and then lower, slipping between your legs. The other hand keeps holding the phone, registering it. You take a couple of seconds to notice it, but you’re shaking. Burning.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he growls, before abruptly pulling away from you and returning to his seat. Arousal is dripping down your thighs as you watch him recline against the headboard. “Go ahead. Touch yourself.”

The memory of his lips and teeth seem to feed your body and arousal. You’re burning. The feeling of the sun on your skin only feeds that feeling. A warm tingling spreads through your chest and down to your core. You slide your fingers down. And God, you’re truly wet. You didn’t realize how hot this little game had turned you. You push your knees further apart, which earns a satisfied groan from your boyfriend.

"Do you want a photo of that too?" he asks.

You nod eagerly, feeling the heat radiating off your body. Without losing eye contact with him, you slide your fingers down to your throbbing center, spreading your folds and teasing yourself with light touches. His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you pleasure yourself under his gaze.

"Fuck," he groans, snapping another photo of your hand between your legs. You moan at the sound of his voice. "I love watching you, baby. You look so pretty."

Carlos repositions the phone to make you be right at the center. It’s a masterpiece. Your body fits perfectly within the frame of the phone. Your skin taken by the streaks of light, golden sunshine gilding your naked body almost like blessing the pleasure you're implying on yourself. You’d later learn that you looked unreal in those photos—something pulled out of a painting, shadows and light in perfect harmony. But in that moment, you just felt needy and desperate.

"Can I move?" You ask, your voice shaking with need.

"You can do what the fuck you want, baby," Carlos replies, his eyes never leaving you as he slides out of bed. You feel a surge of confidence and power as you take his spot, spreading your legs wide.

Your fingers slide over your wet lips, teasing yourself with light touches. Carlos sits at the end of the bed, watching intently. The sunlight streaming through the window catches on your juices and they sparkle in the light.

Your eyes meet his, and he nods encouragingly. You let out a breathy moan as you start to move your fingers in circles over your clit. The pleasure builds quickly within you, and you hear Carlos let out a low growl.

You slide two fingers inside of yourself, the wetness making it easy for them to slip in. You let out a loud moan around your fingers, imagining they're Carlos' instead. The thought of him filling you up makes your walls clench around your fingers.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, but you want Carlos with you. "Carlos," you cry out his name, hoping he'll join in and take over where your fingers are currently working.

But he doesn't move from his spot at the end of the bed. He continues to watch you with dark eyes, his hand still hovering over his erection but not touching it.

You can see the longing in his gaze and it only fuels your desire further. You want him desperately, to be taken by him until all sense is lost.

You call out to him again, pleading for his presence and touch. You long for him. His hand tightens around his erection as he struggles to hold onto control. Your eyes lock with his, and he lets out a small laugh of helplessness.

"Use your words, baby," he grunts. "Tell me what you want."

"Please, come here."

"Not yet."

"Can I?... Please? Can I cum?"

"Yes. Go ahead. Give in for me."

You comply, arching your back and pushing your hips forward. Your fingers glide in and out of your body at a rapid pace, your breaths becoming shallow and erratic. Carlos' gaze never wavers from you, and the sound of his gentle moans fills the room.

Climax is imminent.

You can feel it building, a searing warmth spreading through your veins, threatening to consume you completely. You know you're on the edge, but you want to prolong this moment, revel in the pleasure of it all.

When you open your eyes, he's standing by your side. The camera is focused on your face, but his eyes? His eyes are fixed on yours. All his attention is on you.

"I'm—," you gasp, meeting his gaze, your voice barely audible. “I'm so close.”

“I know, my love,” he whispers. Click. “Let yourself go for me.”

As the words leave his lips, you feel yourself start to unravel. Your body trembles with ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. You let out a guttural moan, your fingers still working their magic on your slick folds. It hits you like a wave, stealing your breath and lifting you higher, as you cry out his name and arch your back, almost like being pulled towards him by an invisible force. The camera continues to click as your body convulses, capturing every bit of your ecstasy, your face twisting into a mix of pain and pleasure.

As you come down from your high, you're aware of Carlos moving around the room. The bed dips slightly, and then he's beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your sweat-damp skin.

“Can you take me now?,” your voice low. “Please?”

Had this one in my mind all day so I just needed to sit down and write it down before it would vanish. I know I've been MIA, but I see all the support you keep giving me. You're all incredible. Hope you enjoyed this one silly thing. As always, all feedback is appreciated. 🫶

[crushmeeren]

master list link ⇢ ⇢ // FEM READER

༝ ᭝ ༝ my sweet boy itachi deserves all the headcannons. ༝ ᭝ ༝

༝ ᭝ ༝ nsfw below the cut . ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Itachi, whose soul can be compared to the gentle beat of a butterfly’s wings. Who’s a man of few words, but always tries his best to create meaningful conversation with you. And when you understand, without a word, that his social battery is at zero, and you offer to watch his favorite movie, his heart swells to the point of bursting. Who ends up falling asleep halfway through.

Itachi, who you’d label a pacifist at heart. Who does everything in his power to be good at communicating when you argue. Who never yells or insults you. Who understands that it’s you and him versus the problem, not you pitted against each other. Who’s strong. Who will defend you to the death, putting his sharp skills to use if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way.

Itachi, whose eyes flutter shut, smiling tenderly and letting out the cutest hum of satisfaction when you frame his face and repeatedly smooth your thumbs over his defined smile lines. Who craves your affection, your touch, the intimacy you easily share with him. Who clings to you like an octopus when you sleep.

Itachi, who, quite often, does his best impression of a puppy and begs you to take a warm bath with him. Who will fill it with bubbles, and once you are fit snug between his thighs, will slip his arms around your waist and gently guide you back onto his chest. Who will place a chaste kiss to your temple when you rest your head on his collarbone. The steady thud of his heart beat combined with the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest makes you doze off.

Itachi, who lights up like the sun when you ask to braid his hair. It’s so long and soft, the strands like silk when you brush your fingers through them. Who resembles a large, purring cat when your nails scratch gently at his scalp. Who gets sleepy, head tilting forward and jerking back up where he sits between your legs as the sensation of having his hair played with relaxes him entirely.

Itachi, who, unfortunately, is not the best cook. Regardless, he still wants to spend time with you in the kitchen, so he asks you to teach him to bake. He falls in love with it, and even more with you. Who laughs so hard he has to place a hand on his stomach and sit down on the floor when you accidentally drop a bag of flour and cover every inch of your body with it. Who can’t stop giggling when he finds traces of flour in your hair, even after you’ve showered. Who bakes you special treats every week just because he can.

Itachi, who’s a genius. A prodigy. Who’s more intelligent than you could ever hope to be. Who’s so perceptive you genuinely worry he possesses the supernatural ability to read your mind. Who gets entirely too amused when he beats you at chess, for what seems like the hundredth time, and you accuse him of being able to see inside your head.

Itachi, whose eyesight….. isn’t great, even on the best of days. Who you find with his nose buried in a book most days of the week. Who squints so harshly at the small print that you roll your eyes and have to scold him about remembering to wear his glasses. Who pouts softly, but does as he’s told. Who sometimes pretends to fall asleep on the couch while reading just so you’ll take off his glasses for him. Who then pulls you close and kisses the smile off your lips.

Itachi, who paints his nails. Who wears whatever he feels like, but mostly buys things that are soft on his skin and keep him warm. Who’s stunning when he dresses up. But, who’s so pretty your chest clenches tight even when he’s lounging in sweats and a cozy sweatshirt. Who you’ve over heard singing Billie Eilish in the shower more than once.

Itachi, who does chores around the house to show his love. Who spontaneously brings you your favorite snacks or drinks. Who’s adorable when he shows up with a shy, secret smile, hiding something behind his back. Who touches you constantly. Resting your feet in his lap, kissing your forehead, making sure your sides are touching when you sit together. Who gives you butterflies when he subtly locks your pinkies.

Itachi, who was simply terrified you and Sasuke wouldn’t get along. His little brother means the world to him, after all. Who chewed his fingers to the nub worrying over it. Who almost cried tears of relief when you and Sasuke became fast friends. Of course, that was only after he deemed you worthy of being Itachi’s girlfriend.

Itachi, who cries on your wedding day. Who waits on you hand and foot when you get pregnant with your first baby. Whose shoulders seem lighter, less burdened, when he holds your son for the first time. Who loves you, and you alone. Who would watch the world burn if it meant keeping you safe. Who’s your favorite person in the world, until death do you part.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Itachi, whose lips are sticky and warm when he coaxes you into a sweet kiss, guiding your arms to wrap around his neck. Whose hands settle on the base of your skull, thumbs digging into the muscle behind your jaw as he tilts your head to deepen it further. Who swallows your moans and nips at your bottom lip, pushing his wet tongue into your mouth when you open for him.

Itachi, who litters your neck and chest with dark purple hickies. Who needs everyone to see who you belong to. Who murmurs “so pretty, and all mine,” between each love bite. Who kisses the hollow of your throat and nuzzles his nose with yours, a honeyed heat rolling through you. Whose own neck is super ticklish. Who giggles uncontrollably when you straddle his lap and press gentle kisses to the side of his throat.

Itachi, who can’t keep himself away from your tits. Who warms his hands before he grabs them, sucking on your soft nipples until they harden between his lips. Who pinches and tugs on them, bouncing them playfully.

Itachi, who doesn’t like to curse. Who dissolves into a whimpering, nasty mouthed mess when you swallow his cock. Who prefers you on your knees while he sits at the edge of the bed. Who white knuckles the sheets, breath spilling out as shaky exhales and whiny moans when your slick lips drag up his shaft. Who throws his head back, hand resting on the back of your head to anchor himself while you suck on his balls and jerk him off.

Itachi, who pulls the tie from his hair when he eats you out. Who places your hands on his head and instructs you to weave your fingers in his hair to keep it off his face. Who keeps two fingers stuffed inside your pussy the entire time, occasionally curling them into your g-spot. Who licks your clit and swirls his tongue until you’re squeezing tight and shouting out your pleasure.

Itachi, whose dick is unbelievably sensitive. Whose thighs twitch and jump, chewing on his bottom lip to stifle high pitched moans when you sink down on his cock. Whose large hands palm your ass, gazing up at you with a tender expression while he supports your weight. Who gasps and squeezes his eyes shut when his cock kicks, filling you with a new warmth when you sit down on him for the fourth time.

Itachi, whose cheeks are dusted a rosy pink, sweat beading on his forehead as he averts his eyes. Who shoves his face into your neck when you tease him about your pussy being too much for him to handle. Who rolls you and clutches the backs of your knees, pinning them to the bed.

Itachi, whose shameless breeding kink makes an appearance. Who rolls his hips with slow and steady motions, pushing his cum back inside you. Whose eyes are glued to the way the sticky white mess covers his cock, the tight heat of your pussy swallowing him so well he could scream.

Itachi, who fucks you through each one of your toe curling orgasms, whispering encouragement that makes your cheeks burn so hotly it travels behind your eyes. Who helps clean you afterwards, kissing your cheeks, your forehead, and cuddles you close to his chest. Who rubs your back until you drift off to sleep.

[elusivedew]

golden.

✧ synopsis ⤐ spencer is gentle, even in the darkest hours of the night.

✧ contains ⤐ several references to sex, this is all about aftercare. post-prison spence except I haven't gotten that far yet so don't mind any inaccuracies, I just thought he deserves something nice ♡ w.c ~ 1.3k

Your muscles ache. It's a low pleasant hum reverberating through your body, similar to the feeling after a long strenuous day, but nowhere as exhausting. Your heart is still pounding in your chest like an uncontrolled feeling, but it feels so full.

Spencer, the culprit in this story, shifts beside you to pull the covers over your exposed body. He’s gentle and tentative, like he always is, especially after nights like this. It’s like he's apologizing for defiling you the way he does, always concerned about going too far or making you feel uncomfortable. He looks down at you with familiar, warm hazel eyes, and you wonder how he could ever do any of those things.

He brings you closer, an arm coming around your waist to pull you against him. You move to lay on his bare shoulder, the skin-on-skin contact soothing all your stimulated neurons. While you’re slowly coming back to earth, still slightly starry-eyed, you listen to the sound of his heartbeats. You count them, memorize them, get to know him through the organ behind the flesh. It’s so serene that you almost doze off, but Spencer’s raspy voice shakes you awake. 

“Angel.”

You hum, unmoving and consumed by the visions in your head. 

He rubs your shoulder, willing you back to the present. You move to look up at him, and his smile is so sweet that you almost can’t believe he’s the same guy from a few minutes ago. But, then again, no one who knows Spencer would expect him to be so skilled at stealing your breath right out of your body. 

That’s something that no one else will experience with him now that you’re here. You smile, feeling proud and territorial. 

“What are you smiling about?” He leans down and kisses you, you want to ask for more but you’re spent. 

“Nothing,” you whisper against his lips, “Just the fact that you're all mine.” 

He grins, wide and boyish, and you wish his face would glow like that all the time. His flushed face and messed up hair, both being your handiwork, make your heart feel like it's about to burst right out of your chest. Despite just getting your fill of him, you wish you could eat him up right now. 

“Can’t argue with that”, his eyes twinkle playfully, “we still have to get you cleaned up before you can go to bed.” 

You grunt, “god, not again.”

“I’m not letting you go to sleep like that, and you know you’re risking a UTI if you don’t pee before you knock out. It’s essential for a pleasant experience that you wash up properly after, do you know how much bodily fluid you’re covered in right now?” 

You frown, when he says it like that, it sounds really gross, but it’s what you get for being with a germaphobe.

“I hate this part.”

He tucks your hair behind your ear and plants a kiss on your forehead that smoothes your frown down, “I know you do. C’mon, I’ll help you up.” 

Getting up proves to be the easy part, getting up on your legs however, it wasn't as steady as you hoped it would be. When you're forced to sit down on the bed again because the pain pierces through your pelvis so suddenly it feels like getting electrocuted, Spencer looks concerned. 

“Cramps again? I really have to slow down next time.” 

You groan, “no, Spence, I've told you before it’s fine. Just means we had a little too much fun, and it's not a bad thing.” 

He nods hesitantly, “are you sure?” 

“Yeah I am, just,” you reach your arms out, “carry me?” 

His concern is quickly replaced by a bright smile, “gladly.”

Within a few minutes, you’re both out of the bedroom and in the bathtub. Spencer hates the bathtub. He hates sitting down to take a bath and always voices out his concerns about how counterproductive it is to soak in contaminated water. Knowing that he likes to remind you of that everytime you’re taking a bath, Spencer must be dead tired to just sit his naked butt down in the tub, but you’re not complaining. 

Because he’s the sweetest boy on earth, he helps you wash up first, getting all the spots you can’t reach yourself easily. When he’s lazily washing your hair, you decide it’s the perfect moment to start babbling about nonsense, sleep deprivation and bliss mixing together to jumble up all your coherent thoughts. 

“My favorite thing about you being away is when you come back.” 

“So there’s other good things about me being gone?” The smile is so clear in his voice. 

You turn around to scoff at him, “Spence, terrible time to be a smartass.” 

He grins, “it’s never a terrible time to be a smartass.”

It’s quiet for the rest of the bath, you let him clean you up because you can barely see anymore. It’s three in the morning and he came home around midnight. You were already tired by then, but you missed him too much to not take the chance to immediately take him to bed— it’s hard to resist your boyfriend when his hair is growing out again and he hasn’t shaved in 2 weeks.

When the bath is done, he dries you off and helps you get dressed. You’re distracted by his bare chest the whole time, watching the flexion of his arms when he puts a shirt over your head. Then you sit on the bed, observing as he gets dressed. After nearly three hours of touching him in every possible way, his body is still so mesmerizing to you. Nearly three years of being together and countless incidents of unholy experiences, and you still feel like you’re seeing him for the first time. 

“Are you done observing?”

You’re broken out of your lust-filled thoughts by the sound of his voice. Looking up at his face, you're met by a crooked smile that makes you slightly breathless. He walks over to the edge of the bed where you’re sitting, and you welcome him with open arms. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You grin, arms tightly secured around his waist. He runs his fingers through your hair, “you’ve never been a very good liar.” 

Your final step getting ready for bed is letting him braid your hair. You always ask him to do it for you because he’s magical with his hands, his braid always coming out perfectly in a way you could never manage. You’ve taught him a lot about how to care for your hair, and as he tentatively and gently crosses the strand to draw up his perfect braid, you can’t help but think about how good of a father he would be if you ever had a little girl. 

When all of that's done, there's nothing coming between you and the bed anymore. You curl up under the covers as he slips in beside you. You're both tired, from the long day and the long night, but the sense of bliss that comes over you is possibly the most satisfied you've ever been. 

You look at him, reaching out to trace the outline of his stubble. He leans into your touch eagerly while you admire him some more, feeling every small detail over his skin. You know he needs the tenderness just as much as you do, especially when he's had long days at work. You know all the monsters he sees at his job secretly haunt him, and you know that he feels hopeful every time he's in your arms— because the world doesn't have to end every time he has to confront cruelty, and there’s love and adoration out there that almost overpowers the poisonous hate.

You reach for his hands, kissing the calluses on his fingertips. You know holding his gun comes with heavy responsibility, a responsibility that’s made him so much tougher than he was when he first started. When you’re done planting a kiss on every fingertip, you kiss his lips one more time, because you love him and you want him to know it. He smiles into the kiss and you’re sure he does. 

The gold in his eyes is the last thing you see before falling asleep. 

[ajskz]

Home Is You

Pairing: Hyunjin X Reader

Warnings: NONE!

Word count: 547 words

Summary: After a long, exhausting day at the studio, Hyunjin returns home and collapses onto the bed, craving rest and comfort. You sit beside him, offering quiet support and warmth, knowing he doesn't need words, just your presence. As he relaxes in your arms, he confesses that the thought of being with you was what kept him going throughout the day. In this peaceful, intimate moment, the two of you find solace in each other’s company, a quiet reminder that home is wherever you're together.

---

Hyunjin was your soft boyfriend—the kind who spoke with his eyes more than words, whose presence was warm like freshly laundered blankets, and who always smelled faintly of vanilla and rain.

He had just gotten back from the studio, the door clicking shut behind him with a tired finality. You heard the quiet rustle of his coat hitting the hook, the soft shuffle of his socks against the floor, and then… silence.

You waited, listening.

And then he appeared—shoulders slightly slumped, hair tousled from a long day of dance and repetition. His eyes found yours, and for a moment, he smiled. A small, tired smile, the kind he reserved just for you.

Without a word, he made his way to the bedroom. You followed him quietly, knowing he didn’t need conversation—he needed comfort.

Hyunjin flopped onto the bed like a rag doll, landing face-first with a low groan muffled by the comforter.

"Dead," he murmured into the sheets.

You laughed softly, walking over to sit beside him. “That bad?”

He flipped onto his back, eyes closing. “It was fine. Just… everything hurts.”

You traced gentle circles onto his shoulder. “Want me to run you a bath?”

He shook his head, eyes still closed. “No. Just wanna stay here. With you.”

So you nodded, got under the covers beside him, and pulled the blanket over both of you. He shifted closer, wrapping an arm loosely around your waist, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. Kissing it softly every once in a while.

You felt him breathe out, a long, exhausted exhale. It was the sound of someone finally safe, finally home.

After a while, he spoke again, voice groggy and soft.

“I kept thinking about this all day.”

“What?”

“You. Us. This bed. Your warmth.” His fingers gently curled into the fabric of your shirt. “It’s the only thing that kept me going.”

Your heart squeezed at his words.

“You work so hard,” you whispered, brushing his bangs from his forehead. “You deserve rest, Hyun.”

He hummed. “I only rest when I’m with you.”

Silence stretched again, warm and golden. You listened to the subtle sounds—his slowing breath, the ticking clock, the hush of the world outside your little haven.

You watched his face relax, tension melting away like snow under sunlight.

You didn’t need grand gestures with Hyunjin. Love was in these quiet moments—the weight of his head on your chest, the way his fingers curled around yours in his sleep, the soft sigh he gave when he knew he was safe.

He was your soft boy, yes. But more than that, he was yours—and you were his home.

And tonight, after all the lights faded and the applause died down, Hyunjin had chosen to come back to the only place he truly needed.

You didn’t need grand gestures with Hyunjin. Love was in these moments—the weight of his head on your chest, the way his fingers curled around yours in his sleep, the soft sigh he gave when he knew he was safe.

You.

And that was more than enough.

---

Plz comment who I should do next and what the story would be about!!

[fixated-cookies]

I NEED MORE..... DARK CACAO....

I need to be like, his wife that always waits for him when he goes out to battle, and that is always there when he comes back....

Imagine taking him into your arms after a specially rough fight, gently guiding him into the bath to take care of him... UGH

You're cleaning him while whispering warm praise, washing away all the dirt and blood and massaging his aching body, looking up at him like his all that there is to care about. He's your strong, powerful husband after all. Your king. Yours.

And if he protects you with the fierce strength of a ruler who had to go through all the obstacles that life has given him, taken away all that was precious to him, just to keep you close. Then, you will repay it all with a warm smile, and much warmer open arms... It's the least you can give him.

Well, it's the least you can give him in your eyes. To him, just having you by his side is enough and even too much.

He doesn't deserve you, he thinks when he watches from the doorframe while you cook for him, when he listens to you talk about your day, when he finally lets himself rest next to your sleeping form, eyes closing slowly, fearful you will disappear in the morning.

But you never do.

(I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF HIM, HE HAS GONE THROUGH SO MUCH LDKDKKSKSKSKSKSK)

THE ANGST. THE DEVOTION. THE UNWORTHINESS. THE DOMESTIC TRAGEDY OF A WAR-HARDENED KING WHO BELIEVES HE’S TOO SCARRED TO BE LOVED AHHHHHHHHHHH. okokokok i need to write sum about it.

The warhorns had long gone silent by the time he crossed the threshold. Armor cracked. Cape torn. Blood dried along the edges of his gauntlets like rusted lace.

He said nothing as he entered.

He never did.

You met him at the door. Like always.

He towered over you, as solid and worn as the mountains that bore his name. His hair was pulled loose from its tie, soaked with snow and ash. His shoulders didn’t shake. They never did. But his silence cracked at the seams.

You reached for his hand. Unbuckled the gauntlet. Then the next. Then the breastplate. You said nothing as the pieces fell around you like the remains of a dying war.

He let you lead him. Into the bath chamber. Into the warmth.

The tub steamed gently beneath golden lanternlight, already prepared. You’d known he’d come home tonight.

He stepped in without protest, knees folding with a slow exhale. Not of relief—of resignation.

You followed.

A cloth. A bowl. Silence.

You started with his shoulders. The dried blood gave way under your touch, flaking into the water like old sorrow.

“You fought well,” you whispered.

He didn’t reply.

You washed his chest, fingers tracing old scars with practiced care. The cloth moved in slow, circular motions. Ritualistic. Reverent.

“I heard they tried to strike from behind.”

“They always do,” he murmured, voice like gravel and thunder.

You washed the grime from his arms, massaging the muscle beneath. He never asked you to. You always did.

“You're still here,” he said, finally.

You paused, looking up.

“Where else would I be?”

His eyes flicked to yours—brief, cautious, like a man checking for ghosts.

“I… thought perhaps…” He swallowed. “You would have left. After the last time. After the things I said.”

You shook your head. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his knuckles.

“You could push me a hundred times,” you whispered. “I will always return.”

He looked at you like it hurt. Like your love was a sword pressed to his chest—and he didn’t know whether to draw it or beg you to plunge it deeper.

“You are too good to me,” he said quietly.

“You deserve gentleness.”

“I do not.”

“Then I will give it until you believe it.”

He sank back into the bath. Let the water take him. Let your hands wander. Not in lust, but in love. Every touch a vow. Every breath a reason to keep surviving.

You didn’t speak again. He didn’t need words. He had you.

And when he watched you from the bed later, already asleep, a pot cooling on the stove across the room, he let the fear wash over him. The fear that in the morning, you might be gone.

But you never are.

And that, he thinks, is the greatest mercy the witches have ever given him.

---

Do you guys prefer for the dialogue to be colored liked "Hmph" or "Hmph"

[justaparsec94]

Three Words

Summary: You and Tech spend some alone time together and some words are said. Requested by Anonymous, written for the prompts: Accidental I Love You's During Sex and Nuzzling The Others Neck and Breathing In Their Scent.

Pairing: Tech x fem!reader

Word Count: 6,399

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Explicit

Authors Note: Finishing off the February Fluff Requests with a Tech-is-alive-and-gets-the-happy-ending-he-deserved-AU. I hope this one turned out ok, Tech might just be the clone I find hardest to write! Thank you so much to everyone who sent in a request during February! I had so much fun writing all of them and I hope you enjoyed reading :)

************************

A happy sigh escaped you as you stretched, your joints popping, a satisfying pull in your muscles as you moved. You smiled softly to yourself, revelling in the feeling of the sun warming your still-wet skin for your earlier swim in the ocean. The rock beneath you was hot from the mid-afternoon sun, soothing the mild soreness in your muscles. You kept your eyes closed as you bathed in the sunlight, listening to the soft sounds of the ocean waves and the nearby laughter of Omega and Lyana as they played in the surf. 

Another gentle sigh escaped you as the feeling of complete contentedness washed over you. After years of fighting and being on the run life on Pabu was something straight out of a dream. It was still hard for you to believe that such a peaceful and beautiful place existed, especially when it seemed like the rest of the galaxy had fallen to terror and ruin. There were still times when the fear that The Empire would return would creep back in, but on afternoons like this one, it was easier to push those thoughts from your mind. You were fairly certain that you could spend the rest of your life on this particular rock and be happy. The gentle breeze, the warm sun, the feeling of the salt water drying against your skin, it was all very quickly lulling you into a state somewhere between sleep and wake. 

You were moments away from sleep when a shadow suddenly cast across your face, darkening your vision and causing you to frown. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky when you had laid down so the sudden interruption was unusual. Reluctantly, you peeped one eye open to look for the source of the disturbance. The disturbance, it turned out, was a welcome one and took the form of a tall, handsome clone. Your frown instantly vanished, replaced with a soft smile, both eyes opening as you gazed up at Tech. One of the very few people who could disturb you from a sunshine nap without consequences. He was still a few feet away but his height had effectively cast a shadow on most of your upper body. You peeled yourself up from the rock slightly, resting on your elbows as you took in the sight of him. 

“Hi,” You greeted softly, your heart rate picking up at the sight of him, just as it always did. 

His goggled gaze was intense as he took another few steps closer to you. His eyes trailing over the lines of your body left fire in their wake and you felt your face heat at the attention. You were wearing your usual swimming attire: a pair of repurposed athletic shorts and a bandeau bra, which he’d seen before but judging by the soft flush on his face it was having some sort of effect on him today.  You took a moment to look at him in return, life on Pabu had been kind to him, his skin glowed with a deep warm tan from days spent out in the sun, and his hair was longer than you’d ever seen it, still short but beginning to curl at the ends, and the simple shirt and pants he wore highlighted just how lean and fit he was. Your face flushed further as your heart seemed to stutter in your chest. Some days it was still hard for you to believe how lucky you were to still have him in your life. 

After a long moment, he cleared his throat, shaking his head lightly before taking another step towards you, “I-I am in need of your assistance.” 

You sat up fully, frowning slightly as worry suddenly bubbled up inside of you. Your eyes scanned him closely, he didn’t look unwell. In fact, he looked the exact opposite but you were concerned nonetheless, “Are you ok?”

“Oh,” Tech replied, sounding somewhat startled by your question, “Yes, I - of course. Nothing is the matter.” 

You weren’t entirely convinced but you accepted the hand he had outstretched to you without complaint. It had taken Tech the better part of a year to recover from the injuries he sustained on Eriadu, and even still there were some residuals. Stiffness in the way he carried himself, an occasional stutter or jumbled word, lapses in a once flawless memory, and a near-complete loss of verbal filter. He was still irrevocably Tech though, still the man you loved with every single piece of your heart. 

“Are you sure?” You asked again as you watched him stoop down to retrieve the loose linen shirt you had worn as a cover-up down to the beach that morning. 

Even before he’d been injured he had always downplayed when something was wrong and that had not changed. Perhaps you were overly cautious, a likely byproduct of watching him be on the brink of death for weeks, but you also knew he didn’t want to worry anyone else when something was bothering him. If anything, that reluctance had only gotten worse since his injury. So you continued to ask, at the very least to soothe your own worries. 

There was a gentle smile on his face when he straightened back up. He had looked somewhat nervous when he’d first approached you, but now all traces of that were gone,  “I am certain. I am currently functioning at an optimal performance level.” 

You chuckled softly at his words as he held out your shirt, gesturing for you to lift your arms. With a smile you slipped in, face continuing to flush as he helped you re-dress. Your skin tingled as his warm hands brushed against your thighs as he straightened out your hem. You smiled up at him as his one hand moved around the small of your back, bringing you in closer to him with a gentle nudge of his hand, the other lifted to brush a stray strand of hair back from your face. Your skin tingled at the contact and you could feel the beginnings of desire starting to pool in your stomach despite the innocent nature of his touch. 

“I am sorry to have disturbed you, you looked very peaceful,” He said softly, his gaze was warm as he traced the lines of your face. 

Your smile widened as you shook your head gently, “You’re never a disturbance, Tech.” 

He soft chuckle escaped him, one corner of his mouth crooking up in a slight grin, “Well, apologies nonetheless.”  

Before you could say anything else he turned his head to look at where his sister and her friend were still splashing about near the shore. 

“Lyana, Omega!” Tech called out to them, “Shep would like you up at his domicile within a standard half hour. He requires your assistance with a task.”

“You got it Tech!” Omega called, throwing a quick thumbs up at him before turning her attention back to Lyana. The three of you often spent your free afternoons either down by the beach or out on a boat. You all loved the water, the clones on the other hand were more reluctant. It seemed a lifetime of living in rainy conditions had made them slightly hydrophobic. 

You turned your attention back to Tech, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, “It seems like everybody needs assistance today…” 

“It would seem so,” He replied casually, but the way he avoided your gaze had you feeling both amused and suspicious. Usually, Tech was incredibly upfront and to the point about everything, so his vague request for your assistance was unusual. Your eyes narrowed as you looked at him, a question on the tip of your tongue but before you could ask he was speaking again. 

“I will explain once we are home,” He said as he grasped your hand in his own, “Come, cyar’ika.”

You flushed at the term, squeezing his hand tighter and following along behind him willingly as he turned and headed towards the stairs leading up to the top of the island. 

The walk up to the home you shared with the rest of The Bad Batch was peaceful, occasionally the two of you would stop to say hello to a familiar face but for the most part, you went undisturbed. Every once and a while Tech would look over at you, a flush high up on his cheekbones and such warmth in his eyes that you found your curiosity growing by the moment. You gave yourself a mental pat on the back for refraining from asking any more questions as you reached the door of your small home. 

You paused as soon as you passed through the threshold, noticing immediately how quiet it was. Usually, there was one if not multiple people in the house at one time. You knew exactly where Omega was but at this time of day, the absence of his brothers was out of the ordinary. You wracked your brain, trying to remember if they’d mentioned their plans when you’d all sat down for breakfast that morning but you were drawing a blank.

“Where is everyone?” You asked as you shut the door behind you. 

Tech turned around to face you, the same, almost mischievous smile from earlier still on his face, “Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair are currently out helping harvest crustacean traps. They will be gone until this evening.” 

“Oh,” You responded automatically before the reality of his statement sunk in. You were alone. And in a small house with 6 people living in it, alone time was very hard to come by, “Oh.”

Tech chuckled, reeling you closer until your body was pressed up against his own, "Our time alone has been insufficient as of late. I thought perhaps we could spend the afternoon together.”   

You chuckled, shaking your head fondly at the secrecy he had been maintaining the entire walk, “You could have just told me that.” 

Tech smiled, his face flushing even more, “I believed the surprise would be more… romantic.”  

“I suppose you are correct,” You replied with a quick laugh before you were standing up on your tip-toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. He lifted his hands to cup your jaw, head tilting down as he hummed against your lips. He was so warm and solid against you that your body immediately ached at the simplest of touches. 

He pulled away after a moment with a sigh, one hand trailing down to grasp your own once more. He gave your hand another gentle tug before he turned, heading towards the stairs that led to the second floor where your bedroom was located.

The house was tiny, a gift from Shep after they’d returned from Mount Tantiss, but it was yours and you loved it so completely. You and Tech shared one room, across the hall from where Hunter and Wrecker bunked together, Omega was further down the hall, while Crosshair claimed the one room on the main floor. After having nothing for so long, the brothers had come to love having their own space. 

You paused as you passed through the threshold to your room, the sight that greeted you causing your eyes to widen in surprise. Normally, your room tended to look more like a workspace. Bits and pieces of whatever project Tech was currently working on scattered about the place, sometimes even finding their way into the bed. You had lost count of the number of mornings you’d tripped over something or gotten a limb tangled in wire. Now though, the room was completely spotless, everything in its proper place, his projects neatly confined to the desk over in the corner. There was even a vase of freshly picked flowers sitting on one of the nightstands. The window shade had been pulled down, blocking out some but not all of the afternoon sun, bathing the room in a warm, dim glow. Small lights, that looked like spare parts from one of his projects, were a new addition strung around the room.

You couldn’t contain the soft smile on your face as you looked between him and the lights, eyebrows raised questioningly. 

“Ah, yes,” He replied, catching your gaze as he adjusted his goggles, “I conducted some research this morning, however, candles are impractical and an incendiary hazard so I hope these will suffice.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his adherence to fire safety but your heart felt as if it was swelling inside your chest. Just when you didn’t think you could love him anymore, he would go and prove you wrong, “Wow, you’re really pulling out all the stops.”

“Well, yes, of course,” He replied earnestly as he toed the door close behind you before he returned to your side. His touch was gentle as he grasped your forearms, his expression achingly soft as he looked at you, “You deserve nothing less.”

You felt yourself flush at the intensity of his look as you took a step closer to him, resting your hands against his waist. You noticed the slight flush had returned to his own face as he lifted a hand to rest against the junction of your shoulder and neck, his thumb gently tracing against your pulse point and sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart was thundering in your chest, desire pooling in your core as he gazed at you. 

You both moved at the same time, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw while your hands slid beneath his shirt to his back, pulling him in flush against you as your lips met. You moaned softly as his nose brushed against your own, his lips were so soft, almost hesitant at first before he deepened the kiss. His free hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you in even closer with a gentle nudge. Your body became completely alive under his touch, every nerve ending singing from the sensation of his skin on yours. 

You nipped gently at his lower lip, pulling a deep moan from his chest. The sound was thrilling, this part of your relationship was still relatively new, so every new discovery you made about him made your heart race. Normally, Tech was always so unflappable, calm, and collected in every situation, so being the one to make him come undone was an incredible feeling. 

Your relationship had progressed slowly, mostly out of circumstance, not because of any lack of feeling. It had only been a few weeks after the two of you had finally admitted to having feelings for one another that Tech had been injured. Afterward, he’d been so unwell for so long that a relationship had been the absolute last thing on your mind. Now though, being able to explore this phase of your relationship together was the best thing in the galaxy. 

Tech’s thumb brushed gently against your jaw for a moment before he was moving, placing gentle kisses down the column of your throat. Your head tilted back on instinct, your body arching forward into his, your skin on fire beneath his lips. He nipped gently at the skin over your pulse point causing you to shudder in his arms, desire flaring in your lower belly. 

Suddenly the fabric separating the two of you was too much. You needed to feel his skin on your own, needed to feel how warm, how alive he was. You moved your hands already beneath his shirt until you were tugging up his hem. Tech caught on quickly, lifting his arms up over his head so you could slide off his shirt. You took a half step back as you tossed it somewhere in the room, eyes raking over him. He may have no longer been a soldier but he was still built like one, all lean muscle beneath golden brown skin. Scars littered his chest and stomach, some much newer than others, some a reminder of what had happened, of what he’d survived. By now you knew every single one and had kissed every inch of his skin, but the desire to do so each time you saw him was still as overwhelming as the first. 

You barely had the time to enjoy the sight of him before he stepped into your space again, the heat of his body radiating through the thin linen shirt you were still wearing. A squeak of surprise escaped you as he suddenly moved, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs and lifting you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he placed another soft kiss on your neck. He took a few steps back towards the bed until his knees hit the edge, lowering you both down until you were straddling him. Everything inside of you ached as he held you flush against him. You ground your hips against him, seeking the friction you so desperately craved and causing a soft moan to escape him. 

A gentle hand on your hip stilled you for a moment before it traveled down and then beneath your shirt, pulling it up and off of you swiftly, your bra following closely after. You shivered, the feeling of being skin-to-skin with him was nearly overwhelming and had you grinding against him once more as heat rushed through you. 

“Cyar’ika,” The word came out choked before he kissed you again, mapping a line from your shoulder to your collarbone, to your neck, to your jaw. Your fingers dug lightly into his shoulders at the feeling of his mouth and tongue on you, it was electric. It was both too much and not nearly enough. You wanted him so desperately you felt as if you might simply combust as he finally kissed your lips again, pulling your lower lip gently with his teeth as your hands wound into his hair. He groaned softly as you tugged gently on his curls before he tangled his tongue with your own. Everywhere your skin touched his ached, your pulse was racing beneath your skin as you deepened the kiss, nose brushing up against his own, the edges of his goggles pressing into your face. 

He pulled away after a moment and you had to bite your lip to keep in the whine at the loss of contact that threatened to escape you. He frowned before he lifted a hand and pulled off his goggles, tossing them haphazardly towards the nightstand beside the bed. They landed with a suspicious clunk but you were too busy looking at him to check on their wellbeing. You saw Tech without his goggles daily, he slept without them, but there was something different about seeing him without them in these types of moments. You didn’t mind but you knew he didn’t like the way they would sometimes press into your skin as you kissed and the slight distance they caused between the two of you. 

You lifted a hand to gently trace the lines of his cheekbone where his goggles normally sat, tracing the indent before moving down his face. Your hand paused momentarily, touch featherlight, as you reached the large scar beneath his left eye where his previous pair had cut into him. The wound had been terrible, so much so that even bacta hadn’t been able to fully repair the skin. Now it served as a faint, silvery reminder of everything he’d survived. Of how strong he was. 

“How did I get so lucky?” You asked softly as your thumb traced across his cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment at the sensation before meeting your gaze once more, the look in his warm brown eyes so soft it made your heart feel as though it were constricting in your chest. Before you had met him you had never believed it possible to love another person so much. He just really loved to prove you wrong.

“Technically,” He started, a slight smirk appearing on his face, “the concept of luck is illogical-”

“Oh, no,” You laughed, shaking your head, “Not this again,” Before he could continue the speech you’d heard many times before you were kissing him again, effectively silencing him.

He hummed against your lips once more, one hand reaching back up to cup your jaw as he tilted his hips up into yours, increasing the friction you had been desiring earlier. He was achingly hard against you and the feeling of him pressing against your core had you gasping softly against his lips. He lifted his free hand to trail up your side, touch ghosting against your skin as he made his way up until he gently palmed your breast. Your nipple pebbled against his calloused hand, your own fingers digging further into his shoulders at the overwhelming sensations. 

“Tech…” You groaned, head tilting back as he kissed his way down your neck to the hollow of your throat, both hands moving to wrap around your waist as he continued to kiss his way down your body. His lips were scorching against your skin, every nerve ending on fire as he pressed a kiss to the swell of your breast before taking you into his mouth. You moaned again, hips automatically grinding into his as everything inside of you turned molten, lost in the feeling of his tongue on you. He moaned against you as you continued to seek out friction, rocking your hips into his own.  

Suddenly he was moving, lifting you up and turning before placing you down gently, your back resting against the pillows at the head of the bed. His hand trailed down your body, fingers hooking beneath the waistband of your shorts. Catching on you lifted your hips to allow him to remove your shorts in one smooth motion. You mourned the loss of contact as he pulled away from you, your body aching with desire for him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him better as he removed his own pants. He was so beautiful. Golden skin flushed with desire, hair mussed where your fingers had run through it, chest heaving slightly, warm brown eyes wide as he looked at you. It was thrilling to know you had done that to him. You wanted him just as badly. 

You smiled softly at him, cheeks flushing as you held out your hand to him. He immediately grabbed it, lacing your fingers together as he moved, kneeling on the bed until he was straddling you, long body hovering over your own. The heat of him was intoxicating and you squeezed your thighs together, able to feel where you were already slick and ready for him. 

“Beautiful…” he whispered before he bent his head to capture your lips with his own once more. You arched up into him, arms wrapping around his back, pulling him in close until your chests were touching once more. You shivered as his hand slipped between the two of you and paved a slow, torturous path down your body. You moaned, arching further into him as his hand found its way between your thighs. He hummed with pleasure at the wetness he found there, his thumb rubbing gently against your clit and sending all coherent thoughts from your mind. 

Normally, you loved his hands on you, he was an expert when it came to getting you off with those long, gentle fingers, but right now you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of you. You reached up to grasp the back of his neck, forcing him to look at you as you squirmed beneath him, your thighs shaking with desire as you clamped around him. 

“Please Tech,” You whined causing him to pause his ministrations, “I need you.”  

His eyes widened, his face flushing a deeper shade of red, as though your words had unmoored him. He moved his free hand to rest against your jaw, his thumb stroking at your cheek for a moment. His voice was full of emotion when he spoke again, his forehead tipping down to rest against your own, “Of course ner kar’ta. I’m yours.” 

You tilted your chin up to capture his lips with your own as he moved the hand between your legs to grasp the back of your thigh. He lifted your leg up and over his hip, giving him the space to slot between your thighs. He was painfully hard, the head of his cock gliding through your glistening folds as he rocked against you a few times. You gasped as he brushed against your clit, pleasure building to a nearly tortuous level inside of you. His breath was shaky between kisses, hair that was beginning to dampen with sweat falling across his forehead. He groaned as you nipped lightly at his lower lip, bringing it to your mouth. You canted your hips up just slightly, crying out with pleasure as he slid inside of you, filling you up so completely. 

The stretch of him was exquisite, it was a pure, blinding pleasure as he remained still for the moment, letting you adjust. His breathing was ragged, the lines of his body taut as he hovered over you. He let out another soft groan, his nose pressing against your own before he slowly started to move inside of you. 

“Gods, Tech,” You moaned as he found his rhythm. You felt as if you were on fire, your skin hot and flushed. Every touch from him made you shiver, your body becoming a squirming mess beneath him. He kept one hand on your thigh, keeping your leg up as he set a slow, even pace. The other went to the hollow of your throat, his thumb resting gently against your pulse point. The pressure inside of you was building at a blinding pace as he moved to kiss you again. 

It wasn’t enough to tip you over the edge of the orgasm that you were teetering on, you needed more. Sensing your desperation his pace increased as you locked your leg around his hip, bringing him in closer to you so that every thrust has him rubbing deliciously against your clit. You moaned, tilting your head back into the pillows as you canted your hips even further, meeting his thrusts. At that angle, he was hitting that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust. It only took a few more thrusts for you to go toppling head-first into ecstasy. 

You cried out his name as your orgasm washed over you, clenching tightly around him, holding him close as pleasure rippled through your body. His pace faltered for a moment and he nipped lightly at your neck, tongue soothing over the spot a moment later as he let you ride out the tail end of your pleasure. Every nerve ending inside of you felt electric, blind pleasure making you feel loose and wonderful in all the right places. 

Finally, as you came back into yourself you lifted a hand to thread through his hair, holding him close as he continued to kiss your neck, your shoulder, down to your breasts. He started moving slowly again once your breathing evened out. The same slow, even pace from before, but you could feel the tightness in his body, feel the control he was trying to maintain as his own breaths were ragged, sweat glistening against his skin.

“Wait,” You whispered after a moment as a new desire suddenly filled your mind. 

Tech paused instantly, pulling all the way out of you and looking at you questioningly. You used his momentary stillness and your own momentum to your advantage, tangling your legs with his own and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. With strength that surprised even yourself you turned you both, pinning him beneath you on the mattress, your legs on either side of him. You smiled down at him victoriously as you braced your hands on his chest. He looked completely surprised, his face flushing red as he looked up at you with wide eyes that were swimming with desire. 

“My turn,” You replied cheekily, leaning down to kiss him deeply before you moved your hips and sunk down onto him.

A choked groan escaped him, his hands flying to your hips as you took him to the hilt. You took a deep breath, head tilting back as you adjusted to the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him in this position. Slowly you rose, finding a steady pace, your fingers digging into the muscles of his chest as you rode him. Within moments Tech was squirming beneath you, his grip on your hips wonderfully tight as he began to meet you thrust for thrust. His skin was incredibly flushed as you placed a kiss on the column of his throat, his breathing even more ragged than before as you slowly began to increase your pace. 

He let out a soft swear, which had your own eyes widening in surprise, Tech never swore. You faltered slightly, wondering if maybe it was too much but his grip only tightened, his voice a raspy croak when he spoke, “Please, cyar’ika, do not stop.” 

It felt as if your heart skipped a beat, your own desire increasing rapidly as you watched him come undone beneath you. You resumed the same pace as before, leaning in closer to him to kiss along his jawline, nipping and lathing at his skin in equal measure as whispered swears and terms of endearment continued to slip out of him. 

In this position you were rapidly building towards another orgasm, your body clenching around him with each thrust, the exact right amount of pressure rubbing up against your clit. Tech leaned up to place a kiss against your collarbone as one hand moved from your hip to around your waist, keeping you close as you continued to ride him. A shaky exhale of air left him as he swore softly once more. His thrusts up into you become more frantic. 

The next words out of his mouth were so quiet you barely heard them, “Gods, I love you.”   

Your rhythm faltered momentarily as your brain caught up with the words he’d just said. Had he actually said that or had you just imagined it? 

Tech had suddenly stilled beneath you, a choked moan escaping his throat as your body clenched tightly around him. When you pulled your head back slightly to look at him his eyes were wide, his cheeks and the tips of his ears red. Clearly, you hadn’t misheard and he had just realized what he had said. 

You tried to ignore it, tried to find your rhythm again, but your thoughts were completely jumbled. The orgasm you had been building towards was now just a whisper of desire in your stomach. He’d never said that to you before. You knew that in his own unique Tech way he cared for you deeply, he called you just about every term of endearment in Mando’a, but the love word had never come up. You knew that it was just said in the heat of the moment, that you shouldn’t look into it too much but now that your brain had caught on to the thought it couldn’t seem to stop. 

A firm squeeze to your hip had you stilling completely. When you met Tech’s gaze he looked embarrassed, his face redder than you’d ever seen it. Your heart felt as if it was bottoming out inside of you at the expression on his face. 

“I-I apologize,” His voice trembled with emotion as he spoke, "I did not intend to make such an admission.”

“Oh,” You managed to squeak out, which was impressive considering the emotions that were welling within you suddenly were completely overwhelming. It was ok, you tried to tell yourself, he didn’t love you yet but maybe one day he would. This was enough, what you had was good, and you could live with this. 

“I have upset you,” He stated matter of factly, drawing your attention back to him. With impressive strength he pulled himself up against the head of the bed into a seated position, bringing you along with him. You moved off of him but remained straddling his lap while your heart pounded painfully in your chest. 

“No, no Tech it’s fine,” You replied, and it was fine. Everything was fine. 

“No, I misspoke,” Tech insisted, his voice taking on its typical clinical and straightforward quality.

You lifted a hand to rest against his face, trying to reassure him as much as you were trying to reassure yourself, “It’s ok, I understand. The heat of the moment and all that…”

Tech’s eyes widened and he shook his head, he lifted a hand to grasp the one you had on his face, pulling it into his own, “That is not what I meant,” He started softly, his eyes suddenly warm with emotion, “I had intended to make that admission in a more… romantic setting. Not during an amorous encounter.”

“Oh,” You started before the weight of his words fully sunk in, “OH.”

Tech chuckled softly as you looked at him in surprise, your voice a high-pitched squeak when you spoke again, “You love me?” 

“Well yes, of course,” He stated matter-of-factly as he lifted his free hand to push some loose hair away from your face. His expression turned serious as he continued, “Though I do not find that one word sufficient enough to explain the depth of my feelings for you.” 

For a moment you thought that maybe you had died, or maybe that it was all just a dream but then he was kissing you again with such passion that you knew it was real. He loved you. 

You hummed with pleasure against his lips, hands moving to wrap around his shoulders as his own arm banded across your waist, pulling you flush against him once more. You felt as if you were floating, your heart hammering in your chest as desire flared in your core once more. He loved you. 

You both moaned as he entered you again, heat pooled in your stomach as you met his thrusts, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you found a rhythm together once more. He moved his lips to your shoulder, kissing a line back up to your throat as he thrust up into you. The spark of desire in you had turned into an inferno, rapidly hurtling towards another orgasm as you increased your pace, taking him all the way into you before nearly rising all the way off. The pull of him against you, the way he filled you so completely was completely overwhelming. You ground against him with each thrust, your clit rubbing against the base of him, you were so close that it was nearly painful. 

Tech placed a kiss beneath your ear before pulling away just slightly, his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear as he spoke again, “I love you,” His free hand slipped between your bodies, and his words combined with the soft pressure of his hand against your clit had you tumbling over the edge once more. You cried out again as your orgasm washed over you, your fingers digging even tighter into his shoulders as your head tilted to rest against his own. You squeezed your eyes shut tight as you allowed the sensations coursing through your body to completely take over you. You felt his pace falter, his entire body went ridged for a moment as his hips jerked against your own. He moaned loudly, burying his face into your neck as his own orgasm followed. 

You were both quiet for a long moment, heads resting together as you both tried to regain some control over your breathing. You felt as if you might just completely melt against him, satiated in a way that made your limbs feel completely loose. 

His hold on you was still tight as your breathing began to even out, he moved his head slightly, brushing his nose against you before pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. You sighed in contentment, there was really nothing more that you wanted than to spend the rest of your days in his arms. 

Eventually, he moved, rolling you both until you were lying side by side in the bed. You curled into him, your head resting on his chest as he pulled a thin sheet up to cover you both, the sweat on your skin was rapidly drying and leaving you with a slight chill. He made a content noise as you nuzzled further into him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent as he trailed a lazy hand up your spine. 

You pulled your head back just slightly to watch him as he reached for his goggles, putting them back into place before he turned to look at you once more. His expression was achingly soft as your gazes met. It made your heart twist in your chest, a soft smile forming on your face as you continued to look at him. You stretched your head forward to place a soft kiss against his cheek before you settled back down against his chest. It was quiet for a long moment, his hand continuing to rub gently against your back as you listened to the steady beat of his heart.

“Tech,” you said softly after a while, causing his hand to pause, “I love you too.” 

You tilted your head back up to look at him, meeting his wide-eyed gaze. He looked surprised by your admission which only made you chuckle softly. 

He shook his head after a moment, a small smile appearing on his face, “Perhaps, I am the lucky one, after all.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully at him but you were unable to keep a smile off your face, “You said you don’t believe in luck…”

“Yes, well, I may be convinced otherwise if provided with enough concrete evidence,” He said as he lifted his hand to cup your jaw, “And you being in love with me is very convincing.”

You laughed softly, heart soaring in your chest as you leaned up to kiss him once more. Of that, you were completely certain, despite all the odds you were together, you were happy, and both lucky in love.

[ttmvxx-scribbles]

The Saja Chronicles - Naptime When? (Part 2)

After an exhausting day at work, all you wanted to do was nap. But with the boys around, it’s never so simple.

Part 1 | Also, AO3 saw it first !! i write other stuff there too heheheh

With these boys, if they shenan once, they'll shenanigan ;)) as usual, enjoy !! ⋆˙⟡

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“Hey—are you alright?”

Jinu’s warm, brown gaze was trained on you, heavily laced with concern as you entered your apartment.

If you had any energy left to roll your eyes, you would have. It was absolutely unfair how pristine he looked. And how he managed to elevate a grey hoodie and a pair of dark pants with teddy bears and choo-choo trains (for crying out loud) was beyond you.

So you just gave him a nod as you shut the door behind you and plopped unceremoniously onto your couch. Your bag hung off your arm and on the floor, but right now it was fuck all—you were going to nap. Even as you heard the front door open and a shuffle of footsteps and hushed, hurried voices, and the beginnings of a scuffle, nothing was going to stop you from taking a well-deserved nap after a long day at work. Yes, you thought, as you snuggled into your couch, practically melted into it as it molded to your body, your shoulders, your face. It smelled like home.

You sighed, slowly letting sleep take you as your body continued to sink into the couch.

Continued? 

No no, this couch was just really soft. It’s been with you for ages, and you nuzzled it gratefully for the years of service it provided.

But when you lifted your head for a breath and found that you couldn’t, that’s when the panic kicked in.

You scrambled to get up only to sink back down, your limbs like weights being swallowed. A scream started to build in your throat when you dropped back on the firm surface of your couch, gasping for air. As if nothing had happened.

“What the fuck,” you said to yourself more than anything when a gentle touch settled on your cheek.

“Princess, hey, go back to sleep.”

You turned to find Romance behind the couch, his-heart shaped face resting on his forearm as he continued to stroke your cheek. But seeing the look on your face, he paused. “What’s—”

“Were you trying to kill me?” You screeched, hopping off the couch and hurled a pillow in his direction which he easily dodged.

“Romance, you’re out,” declared Jinu from the kitchen doorway.

“Come on, no fair!” complained Romance, rising to his full height. “We just started, and none of you had any ideas to begin with.”

“Started what?” This you hissed in Jinu’s direction.

“Nothing!” He answered, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “I just told them you looked like you needed to rest.”

“And that he’d cook us bacon if we managed to help you fall asleep,” chimed in Abby as he exited the bathroom where the water seemed to be running.

“Only because I knew none of you would leave her alone the moment you got back,” Jinu retorted.

“Romance just tried to murderme with the couch!”

“I was making it softer for you!”

A firm hand on your lower back had you looking up at Abby, his smile gentle as he steered you towards the bathroom. “Don’t mind them,” he said. “Come on, I started a bath for you.”

“Mhm, and I suppose this is nothing but a selfless gesture for your very gracious and exhausted host and nothing to do with Jinu’s challenge?”

He chuckled low in your ear, causing a shiver to crawl up your spine. You could feel his warmth as he pressed closer against you, a subtle hint of cinnamon tickling your senses as he whispered, “We’re demons sweetheart. Nothing is ever selfless.”

When you turned to him, you could’ve sworn his eyes flashed amber, but it was gone in the next blink as if it had never happened.

“I can’t nap in a bathtub.” You were a fucking champ for how steady those words sounded by the way. “I’ll drown.”

“I’m not as insane as Romance. However...” You were acutely aware of his fingers tracing circles at your lower back. It was a harmless, idle touch, but the heat of it seared through your clothes, and you found yourself drawing closer, wanting more of it.

Jesus. You really were exhausted.

“If you do end up with a kitty nap—”

“Cat nap,” you corrected. “It’s cat nap.” 

“—I promise I won’t let you drown.”

Abby has not yet wronged you. And he was the biggest of them all, so needless to say, your confidence in him being able to stave off the others while you took a relaxing bath was unquestioned.

So the answer was simple. “Fine.”

“Awesome,” he said as a grin lit up his features that had your stomach fluttering. In a puff of pink mist, he was gone.

Momentarily appeased, you stripped off your clothes and dipped into the tub, a long, luscious moan leaving your lips at the warm, bubbly water enveloping your skin. Immediately you felt your muscles uncoil and in the next few minutes, your eyes were closed, your mind slowly drifting to nowhere.

And that’s when you felt hands on your shoulders.

A scream ripped from your throat as you bolted out of the bath, grabbing the nearest towel you could reach, and out of the bathroom. But you barely made it out when your foot caught on something and you tumbled to the floor.

“What happened?” You heard Romance’s voice from behind, but you were too focused on a passed out Abby on the floor, drool dripping down a corner of his mouth.

“Z?” That was Jinu, and you whipped your gaze up to find Mystery gaping down at you from the bathroom entrance.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I heard massages would help humans relax.” His voice sounded so small, and you couldn’t find it in you to yell at this man.

So you glared at Jinu. “I blame you entirely for this. And no one is getting bacon for the rest of the week.”

With that, you got up off the floor and headed for your room, leaving them to their indignant protests and pleas. But when you swung the door open, you found another demon lounging on your bed.

Turquoise eyes lazily swept down your form and back to your face. “Rough day?” Drawled Baby, which only earned him a sigh.

“Please close your eyes,” you said in another exhale. Once he did, you chucked your towel and quickly got dressed. 

You had nothing left in you as you approached the bed. “Scoot,” you ordered, and Baby did. You knew he wasn’t going to leave. Abby was right; they were demons. They were a selfish lot, and never did as you asked without demanding anything in return.

So—life and lemons and all that.

“Baby,” you began as you settled in beside him, keeping your arms tucked to your side and your fingers laced over your chest. The bed was not made for two people, but the both of you somehow fit with just enough space in between.

“Mm,” he answered.

“Keep them away and I’ll cook bacon just for you for the rest of the week.”

“Two.”

…”Deal.”

“Shake on it.”

Your eyes snapped open to a slender hand reaching between you. “You have to shake on it, or the deal is null,” Baby clarified.

So you took it, and gasped. Purple streaks emerged from where your palms touched. They crawled up to your forearm, stopping just below your elbow. When you looked up to ask Baby what was happening, gone was the turquoise gaze you were used to; in its place was glowing amber, as if lit from within, his pupils narrowed to cat-like slits as a cocky grin pulled up a corner of his pouty lips.

A sting had you looking down at your connected hands again. This time, you watched a similar pattern crawl up his forearm, but instead of purple, his was blood red. Once it reached its apex, Baby released your hand. 

“Now we have a deal,” he said after a moment. “Don’t worry. Your room’s warded to keep them away. No one will be able to come in here without either of our permissions.”

And with that, he closed his eyes, snapping on a pair of headphones that you would question him later on where he got them from. 

But how the hell could you sleep after that? What the heck even was that? No one in the group had ever done that before. You knew they had magic because duh, but what did this mean? 

You could only stare at your tattooed arm, except the tattoo somehow felt warm. Alive. And there was an urge in you to look up. 

So you did, and found Baby staring at you.

You opened your mouth to start your interrogation when he said, “Go to sleep already, human.” And a heaviness settled over you like a blanket, making your eyelids heavier and heavier. The last things you were aware of were your head hitting the pillow and a triumphant niggle in the back of your mind before a dreamless sleep finally took you.