#Canonverse 'short'

[hollygolightlyclub]

Re: the Vampires music video fic. There’s another one that I’m thinking of, and maybe that anon is too. Frank and Gerard are in awe about them having a real music video (the Vampires one). They’re painting the set and getting giggly. I think it’s from Frank’s POV, and I remember a detail where Gerard goes down on Frank because it’s like a thing for him, and Frank had always had a thing for Gerard. Any ideas?

SCREAM, ohhh my dear lord, it took me WAY too long to find this. YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT--the LJ one, though incredibly similar in premise, wasn't actually the one I was thinking of in the first place!!!! It's THIS.

If The Sun Comes Up by dear_monday [5k]🔒

Explicit | Frank/Gerard

Gerard is the reason why Frank is here at ass o' clock in the morning to get the set for their first real video finished a day early while Mikey and Ray and Otter are all catching up on precious sleep.

GOD KNOWS WHY this wasn't in my bookmarks. jfc 💀

[ar-mage-ddon]

self-indulgent fern......

[little-soldiers]

now thT im on the topic of my fics im dead serious when i say there is 100% a Singular fic author that inspired me to actually make and publish my fics. And if you knew who it was you would absolutely see the resemblance. Theyre like my Fic Author Idol and they havent posted in the mcyt fandom since january of 2022. But theyre my idol

[2toplibrary]

seven o' clock by birdsandivory

(G, 0.7K, 1/1)

Pain happens in cycles.

Shouto knows this because even now, decades after his mother burned his face, it came and went like clockwork.

The skin tightens overnight. Becomes painful and slightly tacky—like wax. Sometimes, when Shouto wakes, it’s difficult to fully open his eye, and the surrounding tissue needs to be worked until pliable. It doesn’t take very long nowadays, a minute or two of moisturizing and kneading usually does the trick, but it never fails to happen. Even after all these years.

Nobody really understands little things like this, except Katsuki.

Because everyday, at seven o’ clock, it happens to him, too.

—

Shouto bore witness to all of Katsuki's downfalls. All of his uphill battles. All of his victories.

He will remain by his side in this, too.

[dullahandyke]

Envisioning naminé as a trans 20yo... life could be dream

[oatmealdaydreams]

Birthday Boy

I moved my other story from my inactive blog (@/sasi-whump) to here. Nothing new, sorry.

Description: birthdays are meant to be celebrated, but Virgil doesn't have much to celebrate.

Warning: unreality, implied imprisonment, manipulation, food, implied/referenced memory loss, implied possessive character

Extra: Happy Birthday, Virgil! Hope this is the right amount of whump for our favourite emo.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

A birthday is meant to celebrate another year of life, of living, of surviving through another chapter of your life.

To Virgil, however, it's nothing but a reminder of everything he wants to forget.

He's not even sure if it's really his birthday. It's December, yes, but... is it the nineteenth? Has it passed? Is it before? He's not entirely sure.

There's no calendar in his room, if you can call it that. It's a room, but it doesn't feel like his. It's all blank and foggy and grey. There's a bed, frame and mattress. Pillows, blankets, a closet full of clothes, and there's even a vanity. There's no windows, though. Just a small vent so close to the ceiling that he can't even reach it. It brings in the fresh air, so maybe he should be grateful for it. Be grateful.

There's a door, but... well, he hasn't figured out how to unlock it yet.

He has a bathroom, too. It's small, but it has everything he needs. A toilet, a sink, a bathtub and a shower head. It's nice. It's not like he doesn't have what he needs. He's not being deprived of anything. It's so dumb, being locked away in this room. But he gets fed! Food comes at the same time- or what he thinks is the same time- everyday, and it's good food. It's not bread scarps; it's actual meals with fruit and protein. He gets water. He's not malnourished, not really.

He's not even chained to the walls or anything. He just can't... leave. He wants to leave. But that's the thing, isn't it? Why would anyone want to leave such a nice place, keeping him safe and fed and taken care of? What's so wrong with Virgil that he'd want to leave?

So greedy.

A knock on his door breaks him from his thoughts.

"Oh, little V! Guess whose birthday it is?"

Virgil freezes in his spot on his bed as the voice echoes into the room.

"It's yours! You know what that means, don't you? Of course, you do. Some birthday fun! Want to know what kind of birthday fun?"

Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away-

"Aw, why so quiet? You know, you never really talk, not anymore. I miss our banter! What happened, little V, finally learning not to be so rude and greedy?"

Virgil stays stuck on his bed, silent as fear gets lodged in his throat.

"Well, if you finally learn your lesson like I've been teaching, maybe I'll let you out for a treat! I'll even make birthday cake. Sounds nice, right?"

Virgil swallows a whimper at the sound of being let out. He wants that. He wants to see outside of this fucking room, to see something not-grey. To be let out, even for a minute, a second would be so refreshing. He wants that; he needs that. Good god, he's wanted that for so long. He just wants out.

"Hmm... why not, little V? It is your birthday, after all. Make sure you're decent in about five minutes, and we'll have all sorts of fun. I already have some surprises for you."

Virgil waits until he can hear them walk away, their footsteps fading as they leave the door. He lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, his shoulders slumping slightly.

He doesn't like surprises. Surprises usually entail some... questionable things. They always have fun, but he doesn't. If he says he doesn't, it just gets worse. But then they expect him to communicate and tell them things, and- and... it's best to avoid surprises if he can.

But he wants out, so badly, and that means facing surprises. He hates not knowing what it'll be, but it's not like he's been let out before. He doesn't even remember if there is a 'before'. Before he was in this room, before he could only talk through a locked door, before he learned to stop talking, before all he knew was his own face and... and... was there a 'before'? Hasn't it always been like this? Does he know any different? Would he know? Would he?

He really wants out, and this may be his only chance.

He gets dressed, out of his soft pajamas, and sits on the edge of his bed. His leg bounces impatiently, both excited to see outside his room and afraid for what the surprises could be. He wears his signature hoodie, purple patches and all. His eye shadow is a little rushed, but he didn't want to risk being late and missing his chance. He remains tense as he waits, hands clenched in his hoodie pocket.

Footsteps come to the door. The jingling of keys. The sound of a lock turning, softly unlocking. A small, warm chuckle as the door slowly creaks out, spreading bright light from outside. Virgil has to squint his eyes for a moment, not used to that bright of a light. He has a working light, yes, but it's noticeably dimmer than the one shining from outside. Well, noticeable now that Virgil finally sees it.

Virgil forces himself to still his leg and stay put as the door opens all the way. He finally sees a glimpse of not-grey walls from behind his Keeper. He finally sees his Keeper, their actual appearance. They're just a tad shorter than him, not by much, and seem... warm? For some reason, they radiate warmth. Maybe it's just Virgil, but that's the only thing he can describe them as. What else would they be? They take care of him. They do take care of him... right?

"Already ready and waiting, hm? You seem to be doing well today, little V. Maybe today will be a good birthday after all!"

His Keeper's voice is almost modulated, but Virgil hears it as a sweet and caring tone. As if it's genuine, heart-felt and true.

What else could they be other than caring? They've always taken care of me. I was the problem, and they just wanted me to be better. I have to learn. I always have to learn.

"C'mon! Follow me out to your first surprise. This'll be so fun," Keeper chuckles lightly as they gesture for Virgil to come along.

Virgil silently stands and does as bid. He trembles slightly as he walks out into the brighter area. His eyes adjust as his mind wanders off, thinking what the first surprise could be. Something tolerable, hopefully. He knows the kind that aren't very tolerable, and he hopes none of them happen today.

He hides his hands in his pocket as his Keeper leads him out to a... a gathering room? Wait no- oh, a living room. It's just a living room. When was the last time he saw one of these? Has he ever seen one before? He can't recall.

There's a couch, a love seat, and a coffee table that separates them from the tv. It's all decorated in a simple, monochromatic style. Some sort of theme about feathers and the colour blue. It looks pretty, to say the least. There are a few gold accents here and there. It's... nice. It's all very nice.

Looks cozy, is all Virgil can spare to think about the decor.

Keeper sits on the couch, beckoning for Virgil to sit next to them. he hesitates, but he thinks it best to obey over not as Keeper raises an eyebrow. A pleased smile grows on their face as their 'ward' sits next to them. They grab something from under the coffee table- a small box, wrapped in coloured paper- and shows the anxious birthday boy. It's small, covered in a darker purple paper and tied together with a goldish ribbon. It's a birthday present. Virgil's eyes light up at the sight of a possible reward. That's what he hopes it is, anyway.

The goldish yellow ribbon looks... familiar. The yellow reminds him of something, someone, but he's sure who or what would be. He tries to think and reaches for a memory, but- well, he can't remember. All he can think of is snake scales before Keeper catches his attention.

They pass the present to Virgil, and he grabs it with shaking hands. He sets in his lap as he looks at it longer, such a pretty little box. Keeper just watches them, noticing his hands. They hum, making a mental note.

Why so shaky? Do you not like your surprise? Am I really that bad of a caretaker to you? Don't be selfish, child. I give you everything. I take care of you, Keeper refrains from questioning him for now. They can always do it later, if the little shakes persist.

"Open it," they say instead.

Virgil smooths the paper over, feeling for the folds. He neatly unwraps it, not wanting to make a mess and upset his Keeper. The paper reveals a generic shoebox. He lifts the lid, and he gasps at the object inside. It's small, like the shoebox. It's a black keychain. Instead of a key attached to the end of it, there's some sort of charm connected by a short and dark chain. It's made out of wood, hand-painted with the words 'for good kids' etched on the back it. It's shaped like a spider, different hues of purple decorating it. Its eyes are yellow, and there's an hourglass shape painted on its abdomen. It's almost like a fully-purple black widow spider; it's one of Virgil's favourite spiders. He can't remember why, though. Black widows remind him of something else. Another person, maybe? He tries to think, but he can find is a vague memory of green. He shakes the thought away as he turns to Keeper.

"Do you like it, little V?"

Virgil nods, still holding the personalized keychain in one hand.

"I'm glad! Maybe once you've learned how to be good entirely, you can add a key to it. It's why I keep you in your room, you know. Once you can be better, then you won't have to be in there all the time."

Virgil's breathing nearly stops for a moment.

I could have a key for my room? Really? I could- I... omg.

The pure look of hope almost makes Keeper snicker again. He's not there yet. He's not good enough, not better enough, not pliant enough. Not yet. But with my help, he'll get there. He'll get better.

"Oh, but who would want to leave that nice room? You get everything you could ever want, don't you?"

Virgil falters a little. He does get a lot. He's not deprived of anything he needs to live, to survive. Don't get greedy. They hate when you're greedy. He just nods.

"Use your words, child."

His throat feels dry. It shouldn't. He knows to use words and speak. It's fine. This isn't something new. He just... doesn't speak as often anymore.

"I- I do," he stumbles, his voice sounding hoarse.

"Mm. Are you alright, child? You don't sound too good. I would hate to have your birthday surprises end so soon. We haven't even had cake yet."

"No- no, I'm okay. Jus' a little... thirsty."

Keeper raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

"Thank you for the key- keychain."

Keeper smiles a careful smile, appearing sweet as they always do.

"No problem, little V. You seem to be doing so good. Maybe you'll find more presents around? But before that, I think we should dig into dinner and have some cake. It's about dinner time, anyway."

Virgil's chest feels warm at the praise. He's doing good. He hasn't make his Keeper upset so far. That's good. Maybe his birthday will be good.

"C'mon, then. I'll show you the dining room and the kitchen."

Virgil stands without thinking about it, following Keeper blindly. He clenches his spider keychain in his hand, hiding it in his pocket as he rests his hands in there again. The wrapping paper ends up shut away in the shoebox, of which sits on the coffee table to be trashed later.

Maybe I'll finally be good enough today.

Oh, how wrong Virgil's hopes are. Unknown to him, Keeper intends on keeping their ward 'safe' and locked away in his room for as long as they possibly can. A new reward, that's all today is. Just another incentive for their ward to listen and become pliant with them. They'll never truly let Virgil go.

And later that day, Virgil learns just how exactly possessive Keeper can get.

He learns he still is too greedy, and all he wants then is to forget his birthday ever happened.

[steddielations]

Dom Steve Fic Recs

Strange as Angels (soft dom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie hasn't been able to get himself off in months, and now he's high, sweaty, and horny, thinking about the very man sitting in his room in nothing but a wife beater and a pair of tiny athletic shorts, and he thinks he might die. Steve notices. Of course, Steve fucking notices, what, with all the squirming Eddie's doing. Steve offers to help get Eddie off. As friends do. (As long as those friends are completely in love with each other.)

Like The Hero Who Never Ran (dom awakening series) by callmejude

While Steve and Dustin are searching for survivors, they're surprised to find Eddie alive, hiding out in Rick's cabin. Steve takes up the task of caring for him while staying in his trailer.

Genius Loci (dom bottom, magic steve) by @sayesayes

It’s 1986, and Steve falls in love with a boy who is leaving. It’s 1990, and Eddie comes back home. The fic where Steve is a selectively mute, homesteading, truck-driving witch with head injuries and also somehow it's canonverse.

(Don't) cream your pants (soft dom steve awakening series) by @corrodedbisexual

“Don’t know how to cream your pants, huh?” Steve asks, unable to conceal a smirk. He hears a quiet whine as Eddie seems to try and make himself disappear inside the couch. “Want me to show you how?”

Gilded (dom steve, blindfolds, ice play) by @cheshiredogao3

Steve and Eddie are looking forward to a weekend all to themselves, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Trouble Looks Good On You (wip, spanking, kink discovery) by me indelicate

It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

You Make Me Feel Like I Am Whole Again (wip, dom top and dom bottom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie has never felt like his body belongs to him. It gets worse after he's nearly mauled to death, left with scars and healing wounds, a lopsided chest, and more trauma stacked on top of everything already wrong with him. Steve Harrington finds out Eddie's trans by accident after the bats, and Eddie finds out Steve's surprisingly okay with it. More than okay with it.

Bite Through These Wires (soft dom steve's strap game series 🤭) by @steves-strapcollection

“Wouldn’t you be Ken, though?” Steve had hoped Eddie would ask a question like that and he had to refrain from punching the air and ruining his punchline. “I come with all the coolest accessories, so clearly I’m still Barbie,” Steve retorted, his voice going just a bit deeper as he leaned closer to Eddie.

Relax (Lay it Back) (soft dom yoga instructor steve) by @wynnyfryd

Five times yoga instructor Steve teaches Eddie how to chill the fuck out, and the one time he learns his lesson.

Melt Me On Your Tongue (soft dom, bathing) by me indelicate

“This okay?” “Yeah it’s— shit, it’s more than okay, Steve.” “… you’re crying, Eds.” Eddie can’t hold back a choked off noise then, somewhere between an overwhelmed laugh and a sob. “No one’s ever done this to me before.” He doesn’t know if he means no one’s ever given him a bath, or braided his hair, or just any of the things Steve does for him, really. Eddie's never had a Steve before.

Kiss Me (Beneath the Milky Twilight) (pleasure dom steve, virgin eddie) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Eddie has never been kissed. Steve apparently would very much like to volunteer to fix this.

Getting Lost in the Dark is My Favorite Part (wip, masochist virgin eddie, kink discovery) by queerontilmorning

After his near-death experience, Eddie decides it's time to get rid of his pesky virginity and heads to a gay bar. It leads to some... realizations... for both him and Steve.

You're a Sweet Shot of Kerosene (When I Threw it Back, it Poisoned Me) (wip, mob boss steve) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Whatever fucked up shit Eddie’s father had inadvertently roped him into simply by being what he was — a shit-stain excuse for a sperm donor who preferred sticking a needle in his arm to taking care of his family — well, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about to be him that pays that price. And maybe Eddie’s delirious, because by the time it’s apparently his turn and they’re dragging him down some hallway (and yeah, it’s not like Eddie’s not trying to put up a fight, but it feels almost performative at this point considering he’s pretty much hogtied here), the only real thought he has when they deposit him on yet another cold, wet tile floor is this: Uncle Wayne is gonna be so pissed at me if I get shot in the head tonight.

closer to you (soft dom steve) by @natesfwl

“C’mon baby, where's my little rockstar?” Steve spanks him, groans when he feels Eddie tense up around him from the impact, “Perform for me.” “You let me penetrate you” Eddie stutters out the line as he lifts himself up with his knees. “There you go,” Steve whispers, watching as Eddie fights to keep his eyes locked onto Steve’s when he sinks back down. or the really self-indulgent fic of steddie fucking to the song closer by NIN.

Destroy The Silence (drummer steve) by @artaxlivs

Steve becomes the drummer for Corroded Coffin and Eddie can't handle his thirst

Trouble and Temptation (series wip, businessman dilf steve) by @heartharps

“Come on, Harrington. I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly.” When Steve looked up, he was glaring, as stern and serious as ever. “Eddie, let me remind you that as far as I'm concerned, nothing has ever happened between us other than of a professional nature.”

Sting, and Other Brainworms (series with switching) by @riality-check

“Do you need to go down, baby?” Eddie gets like this, sometimes. Stuck between overwhelmed and incredibly bored. Steve watches until he remembers that they have a way to fix this. Eddie calls it a hard reset. Steve calls it fucking him until he can’t see straight.

Edification (sadist steve) by aristal

“Alright Munson.” She bares her teeth and grins like a wolf. “Tell the class: what’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” A slow smile creeps into his features, and his dark eyes flash. “Oh, you’re asking the good questions, Wheeler.” He takes another long pull of his joint, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect. Steve doesn’t care. He wants to know the answer. He needs to know. Eventually, Eddie blows out the smoke, eyes a little hazy as he grins at the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”

In My Boxers, Half Stoned (dom bottom Steve) by eddywow

"You can," Eddie said, almost sounding like he was nodding along to his words. The image was too pure for Steve. "You could say anything you want to me and I'd- I think I'd be into it. Because I saw your pics and like, I know your face isn't in them but- but I really like them. Is it okay that I liked them?"

Insatiable (public, skirts, cages) by @cheshiredogao3

When their club ritual is rudely interrupted, Steve and Eddie make a point of proving their bond—rather publicly.

Done Deal (series with switching) by @morningberriesao3

Steve Harrington doesn't have any money with him, so he offers to pay Eddie Munson some other way.

Lovebite (sub vampire eddie) by hellcore

It shouldn’t feel so good, being tasted.

* The next few don't have the tag but in my opinion they have dom Steve vibes and I want to include them here (:

Cyclical (wip, time loop fic, rimming, switching, lots of smut with plot) by @cuips-not-cute

steve keeps finding himself back in the boathouse where everything started, wrapped up in the arms of a boy who can’t stop dying. he's desperate to rewrite the timeline, trying everything he can think of to fix it. including falling in love.

Dirty Words by @morningberriesao3

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Memorize My Number, That's Why I Got A Phone (phone sex) by queerontilmorning

while on tour with Corroded Coffin, Eddie makes an important phone call to Steve.

My Right Hand Man (spanking, kink discovery) by @entanglednow

In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

Shot Right Through (pierced eddie) by @entanglednow

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

Pleased To Meet You (demon steve) by midnightdrive

Eddie accidentally summons a demon who is bound to fulfill his every wish. He, somehow, gets more than he had bargained for.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Black Tea & Pastries Part 1 | #LeviMonth2024 Fluff Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ ~1.7k ✧ notes ➼ canonverse, post-war!levi x barista!reader ✧ comments ➼ levi month entry for august 6! part 2 here! ✧ join my levi month taglist here!

{{ August 4 (BDSM) | August 8 (Royalty + Soulmates Part 1) }} Masterlist

While working at a cafe in Marley was never your intention, you found yourself oddly content with the new environment. You had moved away from the island as soon as it was safe to. With the Jaegerists in charge and having no family within the Walls, moving to Marley and starting over seemed like the next best choice.

You sighed as you cleaned off your counter, only looking up once you heard the door open. You had gotten used to seeing strangers here. You were an outsider, and enough people came by your shop that it was hard to keep track of who was who. Yet, this person that strolled in was someone you did indeed recognize—Captain Levi.

Levi entered your teashop, briefly pausing as he placed eyes on you for the very first time. He was immediately able to tell that there was something different about you.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his silvery gaze, noting that his right eye was slightly clouded over and that there were two scars running down his cheek and down to his lips. This was the first time that you had seen Levi in person, and the remnants of his injuries only reminded you of the reality that the world had faced during the Rumbling.

"How can I help you today?" you eventually asked kindly, forcing yourself to zone back in.

Levi eyed you for a moment longer before responding. There was something about your kindness that drew him in despite his usual aloofness.

"A cup of your strongest tea," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. He placed some coins on the counter for payment, his gaze still fixed on you.

You gave him a gentle smile before making him the day's special, a blend of black tea that was unique to the area. You returned a few minutes later, handing it, in addition to his coins, back to him.

"On the house," you whispered, before motioning towards the pastry bag you had slid towards him as well. "Also snuck a pastry in there for you."

Surprised by your generosity, Levi's lips twitched into a slight smirk. It wasn't often that people were so kind to him right off the bat, especially given the world's persistent hatred for the Eldians.

He nodded slightly in acknowledgement, then turned to leave the shop. Just before exiting, he glanced back at you with those piercing gray eyes, a silent thank you evident in his gaze.

After a few days, you noticed that Levi had become a regular. You had his order memorized and would greet him every day with his black tea and pastry.

"You're Captain Levi, right?" you asked one day as you handed him his order. "From the Survey Corps?"

Levi glanced at you briefly, nodding in confirmation as he took his drink from you, taking a seat at the bar in front of you. He took a slow sip of the tea, noting the near-perfect taste of the beverage before he spoke.

"Yes, that's correct."

You did a slight nod, pondering the information as you made yourself a cup of tea as well, taking your apron off now that your shift was coming to a close. You sipped on the warm liquid as you leaned against the counter in front of him to keep chatting with him.

"How do you find life after the war? I know you've been fighting for the Survey Corps for quite a while."

"It's...an adjustment," Levi admitted, running a hand through his short, black hair. "The pace of everyday life is certainly different. Having more time is one thing, but sometimes it can be...lonely."

Levi looked up at you for a brief moment, as if there was something he had changed his mind about saying. The fact that he was even being this transparent about his personal life took him aback. "...I suppose that's why it's nice to find places like this teashop."

You tilted your head at his comment. "Well, you're certainly a hero in many of our eyes," you said quietly with a small smile. "Do you live alone? Have anyone you can at least go home to at night?"

You saw Levi's breath get caught in his throat as he thought about your question, and you immediately berated yourself for probing into his personal life.

"Sorry, it wasn't any of my business to ask," you quickly corrected, shaking your head. "Uhm...how was your day today? Err, other than being at this shop..."

You trailed off as you got more and more flustered, having momentarily forgotten that he had spent the majority of his day here with you.

"Uneventful, to say the least," Levi muttered with a shrug, choosing not to comment on either your flustered state or the personal nature of the question you just asked. It didn't seem to bother him nearly as much as it was bothering you. "Just spent some time relaxing at home before coming here for my usual afternoon tea."

He placed his elbows on the counter, crossing his arms as he kept his eyes on you. "And before you ask—no, I don't usually spend this much time sitting around in cafes," he noted with a subtle smile. "It's just nice to have someone to talk to besides myself for a change."

You smiled to yourself at his words, relieved that he hadn't taken offense to your unintentional questioning of his personal life. "Well, I'd love to continue talking more. I quite enjoy your presence."

A faint blush crept onto Levi's cheeks, your words having caught him off-guard. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"Well, I've rather enjoyed our conversations as well," he said, his voice a touch softer than usual.

Levi's gaze on you lingered for a moment before he continued, "Perhaps we could continue this elsewhere sometime? Outside of the teashop, I mean."

"I have the rest of the day off," you noted. "Although I understand if you'd rather spend your evening to yourself...but otherwise, I'd love to spend some time with you."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he considered your offer. "Actually, that sounds quite pleasant," he confessed softly, his usual sternness replaced by a rare moment of vulnerability.

His apartment wasn't too far away, so a walk along the docks from the cafe towards his residence seemed convenient and fitting. Plus, he needed to get some movement in with his knee, and the walk was short enough that he wouldn't have to worry too much about any pain build-up.

It was a bit chilly, with the ocean breeze blowing through your hair as the sun set. As the orange glow reflected back against the water, Levi couldn't help but marvel at the peaceful atmosphere. These walks weren't that rare now that the war was over, but it still felt odd to have them.

"Never thought the infamous Captain Levi would be fascinated by sunset walks," you commented, noticing the look of contentment that seemed to appear on his features.

"Sunset walks aren't typically part of my routine," he acknowledged. "But I can't say I'm displeased to be experiencing one with such lovely company tonight."

You felt a blush rapidly traveling onto your cheeks as your fingers brushed against each other, immediately withdrawing your hand out of embarrassment.

You glanced over at Levi and saw that he also seemed a bit unsettled by the sudden contact, but it was so subtle that you weren't even entirely sure that it was there.

"...I guess I'm quite flattered to be getting such praise from Captain Levi," you said bashfully. "...I feel at ease around you despite the fact that we just met. Is that bad?"

"Not at all," he murmured softly after a short pause. "In fact, I find myself oddly drawn to your presence. There's something about your kindness and warmth that's actually quite comforting."

Your felt your face continue to heat up, and you silently thanked the darkening skies for making the view dim enough for you to conceal it.

The two of you silently walked side-by-side for the rest of the block, quietly enjoying each other's company.

Levi was finding himself already slightly enamored with you, despite the fact that you had only caught his eye a few days ago. Yet, the moment that he saw you was the moment that he knew that there was something special about you.

You knew something was up as well when you first saw him, but you chalked it up to nervousness at first. After all, it was inappropriate for any type of feelings to develop so soon for someone you had literally just met—but being around him just felt right. For once, it didn't feel like you had to force a conversation or feign interest when there was none. You were comfortable walking in silence next to him.

You wanted to know more about him.

By the time you arrived at his apartment, it was already dark.

He paused at the entrance to his building, looking over at you.

"...It's getting dark," he mentioned, giving you a concerned look. "You sure you're good to walk home?"

You nodded, gesturing over to the apartment complex across the street.

"I actually live close by," you responded with a bashful chuckle. "So...yeah, I'll be okay walking on my own."

After shooting him a small smile, you turned from him, ready to head back home for the night. You took a few steps forward before pausing and turning back towards him again.

You felt your pulse hasten ever so slightly once you noticed that he had stopped to look over at you as well.

"Uhm...so I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" you asked nervously, indicating that you were hoping to see him at the cafe again.

"If you insist," he responded after a slight nod, with a subtly amused look in his eyes.

"Black tea and pastry?"

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he was reminded of the fact that you had his order memorized, even though it had been less than a week.

"...looking forward to it."

#: @shayewrites @littlerequiem @ackerbootytobbi @humanitys-strongest-brat @mostlilo @dustbuniesworld @levisrations @ebechnasheim @moonchild-angel @jayteacups @bipolargatto @samackermaan @deepzombieyouth @pickledpedro

[weast-of-eden]

I've been thinking about how I could contribute to the ACD/Granada Sherlock Holmes fandom for a while, seeing as I'm neither an artist, a writer, or anything actually useful lol. But then I realized something I myself always treasure are curated fic recs, which I could actually do! I've read probably like 25% of all the h/w ACD and Granada fics on ao3, so I compiled a short list for anyone who is just starting out with the fandom. Without further ado, may I present

Eden’s Top Picks for Beginning ACD/Granada Fics:

(edit: i made a second list here!!)

The Adventure of the Doctor's Heart by mistyzeo 12k | Rated E Summary: Holmes has observed much of Watson's habits and tastes over time, which is why it surprises him when his friend objects strangely to a folk song sung at the conclusion of a case. Disturbed by the Doctor's unexpected display of emotion, Holmes becomes determined to lift his spirits by any means necessary, with mixed results. Notes: obviously if you're going to read canonverse h/w, you are going to read mistyzeo. this one is just so good and angsty and features music (!!). it's got some steaminess but it also has wooing. basically it has everything you ever need. this is my odyssey, my iliad, my hamlet, etc.

Cameo by what_alchemy 8k | Rated M | For Archive Users Only Summary: Holmes and Watson become embroiled in a case Scotland Yard refuses to acknowledge. A soulmate AU. Notes: i honestly skipped over this fic for a while, since i'm not the biggest fan of soulmate aus. do not make the same mistake i did, because this shit HITS. this fic has hit after hit: soulmate-mark based case for our main duo, angst, hiatus feels, MORE ANGST, and ofc a happy ending. ugh. read this fic if you enjoy being happy.

A Tide That Does Not Turn by tweedisgood 3k | Rated T Summary: Holmes is a very bad patient with a devoted doctor who adores him. Watson wishes it was safe to speak up, but his friend is a tide that does not turn. Notes: do NOT read this if you don't like angst... ok now i'm sensing a pattern. anyways this is the first hurt/no comfort fic i read for this tag and i literally have cried more than enough tears over it. poor, poor watson :( iconic author though, read everything they write!

The Adventure of the Glad Outlaw by radondoran 7k | Rated T Summary: While Sherlock Holmes solves the mystery of a student's disappearance, Dr. Watson is more puzzled by the changing dynamic between his flatmate and himself. Notes: cute pastiche! a nice little mystery and a nice little get-together. ahhhhhh.... this fic is like cotton candy to me, so sweet and fluffy. defo recommend

Hands by MinorObsessions (draculard) 1.4k | Rated T Summary: Naturally, there are some things Watson thinks about Holmes that don't make it into the books. Notes: i'm also in the star trek fandom, so if you know anything about that then you know that hands are kind of A Thing in both circles and ergo i now Have A Thing about hands. so this is a nice little ode to holmes' hands, featuring some doctoring by watson AND a nice reverse appraisal at the end. it's so sweet :)

Conductor of Light by ColebaltBlue  1.4k | Rated T Summary: A Victorian stiff upper lip won't prevent you from falling in love, but it might prevent you from realizing it. Notes: they finally get their shit together! honestly i would recommend this fic to anyone just starting out with h/w fics in any medium. the characterization and dialogue is A1, and their argument is really realistic to me, idk. also features the iconic HOUN quote for its title so props to that!

A (Mis)fortunate Man by sans_patronymic 1.5k | Rated T Summary: December, 1880. Watson writes a note which may be his last. December, 1899. Watson writes back. Notes: READ THE TAGS BEFORE READING. this was a gut-wrenching read but god i cried at the end for watson. don't worry, this one has a happy ending. ugh now i wish there was a second chapter where watson lets holmes read the letters. to sum up: oof, my heart

The Second Smartest Man in London by FairSinner 73k | Rated E Summary: Dr John Watson returns from Afghanistan to Victorian London, wounded, traumatised and alone. When he meets Sherlock Holmes, his life begins to seem worth living again. But Holmes is a man who despises sentiment and Watson cannot seem to expunge it from his heart. Notes: congrats, you've made it to the end!! so now i must confess that it's been a loooong time since i've read this fic, but the private note i left on my bookmark was just "holy shit", so i'm sure it's a banger. i'm also sure it has angst because i love angst and i love bookmarking angst so i can read it again and again and suffer infinitely. enjoy :)

anyways, now that i've put these all here i realized how much i enjoy angst and hurt/no comfort fics. if any of you guys have a favorite fic you want to link or want to plug your own writing, feel free to!

[hollygolightlyclub]

pls tell me you know the fic where frank and gerard are painting the set for the vampires will never hurt you music vid and get together?? i would owe u my life

OH, I know this one. It took me some help to find as I couldn't remember hardly anything about it besides that I read it long ago, but thankfully we got it.

like ghosts in snow by iphignia939 [1k ish]

Mature | Frank/Gerard

See, sometimes Certain People pimp you into a fandom. And then Certain People both *happen* to remind me that Frank and Gerard were up all night painting the set for Vampires Will Never Hurt You and got high off the fumes, and it would be awesome if someone wrote a story about them getting high and making out.

[ar-mage-ddon]

a couple fax sketches i still like

bonus: a little style guide for their hair that i made for myself and a friend because i just get really inconsistent with it sometimes

[animementrash]

Happy Birthday.

Character: Levi Ackerman

Tags: Fluff, canonverse IG, no trigger warnings, they/them pronouns for Hange, she/her pronouns for reader, Levi is a nervous little baby. (No proof read hehe)

Word count: 2291

A/N: I've had this in my drafts for a whole monthhhhhh! Last month was my birthday and it was the first time in my 28 years on this earth that I celebrated, it was nice. I healed my inner child :') So anyways, here's a short story about Levi wishing us a happy birthday, yay!

“Happy birthday…. happy, birthday…. Happy…” Levi mumbled over and over while pacing around his office. On top of his desk sat a small box, bigger than a ring box but smaller than an envelope, it had a small fountain pen inside along with some wax seals. He had heard you talk with Hange about those pieces a few months ago, and it’s not like he went store by store trying to find them over the course of a few days, no, he just had to casually run some errands those days, in multiple stores…more than once.

After some more pacing he grunted in frustration and took the box from his desk. “Come on, get a grip.” He told himself before walking outside his office and making his way to the meeting room where Erwin held the higher ups daily meeting. He knew he’d see you there and his palms started getting clammy.

As he made his way to the meeting room, the halls started to fill with cadets, all of them were off to training and saluted him as he passed by, but he was too stressed to acknowledge them; then after turning a corner he saw you. You were almost at the meeting room’s door, you seemed calm as always but there was something different about you, he stared at you for a few seconds trying to find what it was.

“The hair.” He mumbled to himself, and he was right, you were using your hair different today. Was it a mere coincidence or was it your way to let others know today was special, he wasn’t sure but it did make his heart skip a beat.

“Where’s the birthday girl!?” Hange’s voice echoed through the hall before they appeared and gave you a big hug, your face changed from surprised to a wide grin in a matter of seconds and Levi just stood quietly, observing you both with curiosity and a hint of jealousy. Why was it so easy for Hange to go and hug you? They’ve known you for the same amount of time as him, so why was he suddenly so nervous to approach you?

That and many more thoughts flooded his mind as he remained frozen standing by the corner.

“Oh Hange, you didn’t have to get me anything!” Your voice broke his trance and he looked at you holding what seemed to be a book. Your eyes glistened and that wide grin shifted into a small pout. The way you held the book made him feel anxious, were you going to like his gift as much as this one? Was his gift up to your standards? The more he thought about it, the less fit he found his gift. It was too small, too simple…too little.

“Hey! Happy birthday!” The next one to greet you was Miche, he casually made his way to you and ruffled your hair playfully, you complained a little and he chuckled.

“Watch the hair you dumb. Can’t you see she paid extra attention to it today?” Mumbled Levi upset and scoffed annoyed when he saw Miche hand you a single flower as a gift. It was a white lily and you held it so tenderly, putting near your nose to smell the sweet perfume. Again, another hug made its way to you, everyone greeted you so casually and so naturally, he was sure he’d stutter like an idiot if he tried to say something, that’s why he was rehearsing what to say! Yet, seeing everyone engage so easily, made him wonder if he was being delusional by thinking you’d somehow find his gift better than the other’s.

“Still planning how to congratulate her?” Erwin’s voice hit him like a ton of bricks, he even squeezed the gift box a little before looking behind and seeing Erwin smirking at him.

“Fuck off Erwin, I ain’t planning shit. I’m just…waiting for the crowd to subside…”  He lied. Poorly.

“Right…well, hope it doesn’t take you too long to greet her, I’m sure there are way more gifts and congratulations on their way.” Replied Erwin with a chuckle and squeezed Levi’s shoulder softly before walking past him towards the meeting room.

“Don’t take too long, the meeting starts once I enter the room” Added Erwin without looking back and Levi scoffed, his heartbeat picking up again.

“Just do it, just greet her, say happy birthday and give her the damn box. That’s it.” Mumbled Levi as he started walking towards the small crowd; With every step he took closer to you he felt his heart race even more, he even questioned if his heartbeats were audible to others. His mind felt fuzzy and his grip on the box got tighter. “You’ll break it dumbass. Control yourself” He thought and released his grip slightly.

For some reason the hall, which he’s used to walk on a daily, seemed larger today. Why is everything so difficult today?

His hand trembled a little as he prepared to hand you the gift, when he was a couple steps away from you, he saw you turn towards him and your eyes locked, your bright eyes seemed bigger and prettier today and he may have forgotten how to breath at that exact moment.

“Happ…” His greeting was cut by a louder “Happy Birthday” said by some cadets. It was around 6 of them and they all surrounded you while cheering, one of them handed you a big flower bouquet and bragged about how they all saved money to buy it. Your eyes shifted to them and you thanked them with your sweet smile. The smile that was supposed to be for him.

Unsure of what to do, he opted for walking by without saying a word, he didn’t even look at you as he walked past and entered the meeting room. “Shit. Those damn brats…” He thought to himself and his frown deepened as he made his way to the end of the room, Erwin gave him a questioning look and he ignored him completely.

Less than 5 minutes after you walked inside, your hands were full of small presents and flowers, you looked lovely and even a bit flustered, you kindly excused yourself and took a seat next to Hange, your gifts taking a big part of the table in front of you.

“Well, if no one has anything else to say, we can start the meeting” Erwin said and Levi could feel his gaze burning a hole on him as he said “no one”, Levi looked away annoyed and pretended to not notice.

The meeting then started, it was unusually short this morning, taking about 20 minutes instead of the usual hour or hour and a half. The whole meeting Levi kept stealing glances at you and the pile of gifts in front of you, they matched you so well. The delicate lace in one of the gifts, the intese color of the flowers, even the pale envelope of some of the letters you received felt more worthy of you than the shitty gift he held so tightly in his hand, or so he thought.

Once the meeting ended Levi got up from his seat and without saying a word he left the room. He was fuming, he was so upset and felt so unfit. He just wanted to dig a hole and hide inside it forever.

“A fucking pen and some shitty wax. Is that really all I could think of?” He mumbled as he locked his office door and threw the now wrinkly box on his desk.

“Even fucking Miche got her a flower, something more fitting than this…” He mumbled through gritted teeth and sat down, picking up the box once more and holding it with one hand. He remembered the many stores he had to search through to get them and the many stares he got as he sampled the inks looking for the exact shade you mentioned. His eyes inspected the box thoroughly and seemed like the more he looked at it the uglier it seemed. With a sigh he opened one of his desk drawers and placed the box there before starting to work on some paperwork as if nothing happened. The rest of the day flew by, he consciously avoided going out of his office and even skipped lunch and dinner, afraid he may come across you.

His hand scribbled some notes on one of his expedition report when a soft knock broke the silence inside the room.

“What?” He said curtly, he was in no mood to try to be courteous.

“Levi, I brought you some cake. May I come in?” Your voice reached his ears, it was slightly muffled by the closed door yet it made him freeze in place.

“I…uh, yes. Come in.” He replied defeated, it was too late to pretend he didn’t hear you or that he wasn’t in his office. The door opened quietly and you peeked inside, your hair had some confetti on it and you were holding a small plate.

“I finally find you, I’ve been looking for you the whole day. Are you alright? You seemed a bit off during today’s meeting and got me worried” There it was, your selflessness that made him fall for you, even on your special day you were looking out for others.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He managed to say, his eyes still fixed on the papers in front of him though he was unable to write a single word.

“So, the team got together and bought me a cake. I know you’re not fond of sweet things but I figured that a piece of cake wouldn’t be that bad…” Your voice sounded so warm and so gentle; his heart shrunk with how guilty he felt for not saying a word to you the whole day.

“Is that so?” He replied faking uninterest as if it wasn’t him the one who suggested that plan to Hange and who placed the order at the bakery he knows you frequent during your free time.

“Yeah, it… it’s really good” You spoke again and he saw you place the plate on his desk by the corner of his eye.

“Hange mentioned it was you who chose the cake. So I wanted to thank you” The moment those words left your mouth his gaze shifted to you, a wave of heat rushing to his face. You were standing across him, you looked at him with a soft smile and glossy eyes.

“I…” He tried to speak but only a whisper left his lips, he was too entranced by how the shadows created by the candles danced across your face.

“I didn’t think someone would know exactly what kind of cake I prefer, yet you chose the perfect one” You added and grinned widely. A grin so wide and bright that made the ones from earlier seem fake.

“I’m glad you liked it…” He spoke softly, still stunned by the way you were smiling at him. You nodded still grinning and took a step back.

“Well, I won’t disrupt you anymore. Just wanted to thank you for the cake” You said and turned around while waving goodbye. Levi’s mind raced with thoughts and in a rush of adrenaline he opened the drawer and took the box.

“Wait! I have something for you” He said a bit too loud and you turned back surprised.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you” He apologized nervously, his hands getting clammy once more and his heartbeat echoing in his ears as he stood up and crossed the room with shaky steps.

“So I… I got you this…it isn’t much, sorry about that” He stammered as he handed you the wrinkly box. He cringed when you took the box from his hand and felt so ashamed of the state it was in.

“Oh but how lovely is this box…” You said softly and if it wasn’t for the shimmer in your eyes and your smile he would’ve thought you were lying. “Yeah, I know you like that color…right?” He replied, his hand still extended slightly towards you.

“I do, yes!” You confirmed with yet another wide smile, as you untied the matching ribbon his throat suddenly felt extremely dry and he felt as if his heart was up his ears by how loud its thumping was.

Then suddenly everything went silent. There was no rushed thank you or surprised gasp. Levi’s eyes were fixated on the delicate way you took the fountain pen out of the box and held it with both hands. “Did you not like it? Was it the wrong piece?” These thoughts flooded his mind and he started to feel very nervous then, as he looked up to see your face, his eyes widened.

“Oh Levi, it’s so beautiful…” You managed to say and finally looked at him, your eyes shining like a thousand stars and a pretty little pout in your mouth. Levi felt as if all the air was punched out of his lungs, you looked so beautiful and oh so sweet. All your smiles and giggles from earlier when you received the gifts from the others meant nothing compared to the adoration your gaze spilled at this very moment. You smiled at him and pouted once more, unable to hold back the sentiment this gift gave you. After all, this was the only gift you had received today that matched your true likes and dislikes, it didn’t feel like a quick and easy kind of gift. It was thoughtful, it was sweet, therefore the most special thing you had received.

“Happy Birthday” He finally said, his firm voice laced with all the love and adoration he was still unable to share.

[jeanxarminweek]

Hey, jearmin nation!

You asked for it, and you got it: our jearmin fic rec list is finally here!

Small disclosure: this list is by no means exhaustive and contains a small handful of fics in both canon and alternate universes. Only complete works have been included, and we've done our best to include a diverse selection of writers. If we're missing any of your absolute favorites, feel free to suggest them so they can be added!

Lastly, be sure to mind the ratings and the tags.

CANONVERSE

This section will include works that take place in the canon AOT universe. This does include a mix of post canon, canon divergent and canon compliant fics of various ratings and lengths.

love, hate, and the language of violence by pylons

T, oneshot, 21.2k

There is Safety in His Arms by Insomnia_with_dreams

E, oneshot, 2.2k

to see another tomorrow by orphanedaccount

M, oneshot, 6.3k

Obelisk by corbaccio

E, oneshot, 6.3k

Paint Tomorrow Blue by batwake

M, oneshot, 41.9k

Survival by suchakidder

M, oneshot, 4.4k

In For a Penny by fizzydreamer

E, oneshot, 4.2k

For as Long as We Have Left by xajie

E, oneshot 7.5k

Water Will Hold You by onewhodiedyoung

T, oneshot, 1.6k

the knot by orphanedaccount

Not Rated, oneshot, 1.7k

give me your strength (our life is so short) by itspointydumbass

M, oneshot, 1.2k

Torrential by malfxy

E, oneshot, 4.4k

Nightmares by MissErikaCourt

M, oneshot, 5.3k

I'll Be Seeing You by bitchbot3000

M, oneshot, 5k

Nimbostratus by imriel_montreve

E, oneshot, 2k

Stay by jearminbrainrot

E, 2/2, 16k

Worthy of You by bees_n_sunshine

E, 8/8, 34k

The Night Will Keep Our Secret by UntamedValleyOfThePatriarch

T, 4/4, 3.8k

Before / After by LoneSweetPea

M, 17/17, 36.1k

In Moments Between Battles (we find peace) by AceofAliens

Not Rated, 16/16, 27.5k

AU

This section will include works from various alternate universes.

Wicked Inheritance by wordsforjearmin

M, royalty AU, oneshot, 9k

In the Tent by xajie

E, cowboy AU, oneshot, 2k

homeward bound by yeokseobam

G, farmer AU, oneshot, 7k

Growing Pains by little_miss_jearmin

G, modern AU, oneshot, 3k

Duty’s Price by malfxy

E, royalty AU, oneshot, 4k

please take what i can give by likeanoldcardigan

Not Rated, university AU, oneshot, 1k

in shades of red and gold by aster_rain

T, modern AU, oneshot, 11k

Meet Me at Midnight by levicoffee

T, university/serial killers AU, 8/8, 30k

Cowboy Like Me by justalevisimp/levicoffee

M, cowboy AU, 6/6, 52k

No Strings Attached by cinnamonghost

E, modern AU, 26/26, 93k

Copy-Room Romance by fandomette

E, university AU, 19/19, 129k

Different From the Rest by arminloverfae

E, modern AU, 33/33, 126k

Peaches by vidnyia

T, cowboy AU, 10/10, 32k

Rockin’ Your Heart by simpingsuzuki

M, modern AU, 28/28, 229k

Wind in the Sails by vidnyia

T, 1800s/sailor AU, 16/16, 60k

Blood Like Ice by luna_trancy/porgatino

M, detective/criminal AU, 28/28, 87k

Orange Sorbet & Summer Sea Breeze by bees_n_sunshine

E, modern AU, 25/25, 116k

seven years by harrystyleshotpocket

G, university AU, 4/4, 5k

A King and His Knight, Whose Hearts Become One by simpingsuzuki

G, royalty AU, 3/3, 20k

bite the hand that feeds me by likeanoldcardigan

Not rated, modern AU, 11/11, 16k

[ryndicate]

Seal It With a Kiss ⨳ Kishibe

"You want me to do this for you? Then tell me exactly what it is that you want."

notes: I came up with this idea for @akiniku back in like september when i was just beginning to sniff around the csm fandom for a favorite. Dom told me all about him and i fell in love and came up with this plot and *then* I read csm lol. 6+ months later, here we are T-T thanks to @cyancherub for reading through his characterization for me and for my past and future beta readers<3 (i know some of you havent gotten the chance i was just too excited) Idon’t know if i will ever be able to put as much love into a Kishibe fic ever again so lets try to appreciate this

warnings: female reader, longer than a drabble, alcohol, virginity loss + inexperienced reader, creampie, emotional manipulation, coercion but there's consent, age gap (like 30 years between them, fight me), trainee/mentor relationship, twisted savior complex, canonverse, piss (more about control than it is the kink)

Rules/BYF/DNI

Kishibe sighs. “That’s it for today.”

“Already?” You puff, sweat dripping down your temples, your blade lowering until the tip is pointing to the ground. “I could keep going.”

He sighs again, resisting the urge to rub the approaching headache from his temple. Kishibe will never understand the PSDH’s insistence of sending him all of their potentials. Their screening is usually decent enough to keep this type of student from beneath his weathered wings, but every now and then one will slip through. One like you. Earnest, hopeful, and far too willing to do the job. This ain’t the place for you, never will be. They set you loose on the streets and you’ll be some Devil’s next meal. 

But it’s not his place to care. Not supposed to be at least. Makima won’t even tell him which Devils you have contracts with—but again, he doesn't care.

Kishibe ignores your mumbled complaints about cutting your training short, sighing under his breath. “Gonna need’a drink after this.”

He’s unprepared for you to pop up at his side, tilting your head as you ask if you can come with him.

“Why?”

The question seems to put you off. “Isn’t it good manners to take your juniors out after a hard day?” 

Kishibe huffs at your coy tone, certain you’re just after a free meal. “That’s for juniors who’ve proven they earned it.”

That seems to put you off even more. “You don’t think I’ve earned it?”

“No.” His answer is short, clipped. Dark eyes watch intently as you deflate a little, that perpetually cheerful expression drooping into something he ultimately decides is an unsettling expression on a face like yours. He doesn’t care for it, unable to decide why. 

“How’s this?” He grunts, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting up. “I’ll give ya a week.”

“A week for what? You're not supposed to smoke inside, you know.” A sulky tone meets Kishibe’s ears, your eyes tracking his lips and the flare of the cherry as he inhales.

He ignores the snipe. “You get close enough to me to take one of these away—” a twitch of his fingers has flaky ash fluttering to the linoleum, “—and I’ll take you out for drinks. That’s how you earn it.”

The sparkle is back in your eyes in an instant. Your sword tips back into its sheath, coming up on his left to give him a smile. "You got it, sir! You'll never smoke again. Just watch."

Kishibe rolls a shoulder, suppressing a groan at your chipper attitude. I'm getting too old for this shit. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."

He's ignorant to the way the words make you pause, moving for the door, ready to get in his car and drive to his regular dive bar. He needs the silence of the drive before he drowns himself for the night. Well, not so much silence as the rattling heating unit, the rush of passing cars, and music so quiet one might question why it’s even on. It’s simply the beginning step of the ritual he’s come to find most comforting, or numbing, on this job. 

"See you tomorrow, sir?"

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even bother glancing back as the door closes behind him. 

The autumn air clears his head a little as he finally escapes the hallways of the office. A cold breeze whips at his hair, bringing old scars and memories to mind as it bites at his skin. Kishibe takes a final drag of his cigarette and lets it fall to the pavement. He doesn’t stub it out, pulling out the collar of his jacket to fight the chill as he disappears into the evening crowd.

“That is not how this works.”

“There’s no way this doesn’t count!”

“Give them back.”

“I said you’d never smoke again, didn’t I? I didn’t think you of all people would want me to go back on my word.”

Kishibe takes a careful inhale through his nose, closing his eyes for a beat and convincing himself he won’t kill any of his trainees. He’s sent you to infirmiry more times than he cares to count with these training sessions, to bring home the apparently wavering point on your young dumb invicibility complex, but he knows where the line is. So when he opens them, Kishibe fixes you with the same intent stare that usually gets his subordinates to straighten up, or clingy women out of his apartment. Dark, unimpressed, unwavering.

You are painfully undeterred.

“I had to get close enough to take them from you. That’s what you said.” You stand in front of him, at a regrettably smart distance, looking mighty proud of yourself as you clutch the worn white box carefully in your fist. After five straight days of utter and total defeat, you’d made your move on the car ride over this morning instead. 

“I said one, not the pack,” Kishibe drawls. “And you know damn well that ain’t the point here. Nickin' them from the car is not the same.”

You shrug, a familiar petulance beginning to saturate your tone. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You said that kills people.”

Unprepared for the—still a smartass answer but—wisdom of your words, some of the intensity dissolves from his eyes. As if he really needed that reminder. He still has his doubts. 

“No arguing that,” Kishibe sighs, scratching his neck. “Guess you get what you wanted. Drinks on me tonight.”

A triumphant smile brightens your face, but it doesn’t last. The barest moment later you find yourself flat on your back on the training facility’s floor, groaning at the impact. 

Kishibe flicks his lighter, sparking his cigarette and taking a grateful inhale of sweet nicotine as he stands over you, impassive.

“But I’m still gonna make you earn it, sweetheart. Getting overconfident and lettin’ down your guard also kills people. Get up and block me next time.”

“Yes, sir."

He might have been harsher on you today than entirely warranted as he watches you wince and shift, trying to get comfortable in the weathered booth of his usual bar. But really, to go any easier on you would do you a disservice if you really are this hellbent on working in public safety. Part of Kishibe is hoping one training session—and soon—he’ll find your limit and you’ll realize you aren’t making the cut. At the very least he’d like you to settle for the civilian sector. Hell, Kishibe despises paperwork but he'd write your damn recommendation.

You’re peering around the dimly lit space. It's hazy with smoke, with a scent to match. He probably could have taken you somewhere nicer, but he really didn’t want to stray too far from his own comfort zone, so what the hell. This was your own idea anyways. 

“Are you even old enough to be in here?” Kishibe asks suddenly, catching the eye of the bartender and tipping his head. 

“I came of age a couple months ago.”

Kishibe cringes inwardly at your prideful tone. Fucking great. He eyes you as the bartender begins to edge out from behind the counter, watching as you glance around a little frantically for a menu. Shoddy place like this doesn’t really have one. 

Kishibe gestures between the two of you before the man has to cross the bar completely. “My usual. Double for me.”

"What's your usual?" You ask curiously. 

"Whiskey. Nothing fancy, just cheap and strong." 

"Oh."

The glasses are placed in front of you and you give what Kishibe sees as an awkward smile at the bartender as your fingers wrap around the glass. He takes a grateful gulp, unable to help but notice you haven't made a move with your own. 

"Not to your taste?"

"I don't know," you answer plainly, tilting the short glass and letting the amber liquid catch the light. "Never had it."

"Never had whiskey?" Kishibe hums, bored, taking another drink. The double is going fast. The familiar warmth has already settled in his chest, an old comfort. 

"Never had alcohol."

Sucker punched with that information, Kishibe pauses and swallows the last of his glass before setting it down and signaling for a refill. He's far too practised to waste a drop of a drink he's paying for.

"Why are we here?" It's a shrewd question, a shrewd tone. "If you've never had alcohol, why were you so insistent on going out for drinks? Isn't that something you do with your friends?"

Your fingers tighten on the glass, a small pout forming on your lips. "Didn’t wanna do this with friends. Wanted my first drink to be with you, s-sir." Embarrassment coats your features as your words stumble off at the end, and you return to examining your still untouched drink.

Kishibe's refill arrives, another heaven sent double. He's getting the faint inkling that something else is happening here and he's far too tired to pick the answers out of you.

"Lemme get this straight," he drawls, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at you over the rim of his glass before bringing it to his lips. "You wanted your first drink out with a tired old man instead of your friends?"

"You're not tired!" 

Your tone is scandalized, pitch rising high enough that it catches the attention of some other men seated nearby. The last thing he needs.

Kishibe scoffs, scar twitching as he fights a sardonic smirk. "Beg to differ sweetheart."

"You're not, you…you're—" your volume is back to normal, seemingly struggling with your words, and it's amusing if not slightly endearing. 

"Lemme know when you think of something, I'll be here," Kishibe mumbles, drinking again, content to watch you squirm. "You gonna take that first drink? You got me here, like you wanted. Might as well."

That small smirk finally fights its way onto his lips as you give him the barest of glares. He usually doesn't see that look on you until you've gone an entire session without landing a single hit. It's cute. 

"You're you. Don't gotta 'splain myself to you," you grumble, timidly lifting the glass to your lips.

"No, you don't," Kishibe rumbles in agreement, watching as you take your first swallow. 

To your merit you don't splutter or cough, but a grimace splinters across your expression as you swallow and stare down at the glass in mild disbelief. 

"This sucks," you announce firmly.

Kishibe barks out a short laugh and finishes his second drink. "I'll order ya something else."

He's reaching for your glass when you snatch it away from him. 

"No, I'll finish it. This is what you usually get?"

"Yeah. But take it easy, that's a—" Kishibe stares, a little defeated as you down the glass. "Tha'sa sippin' whiskey."

"What's that mean?" You croak out, your face scrunching up despite your efforts.

"It means you're getting a glass of water before I get you anythin' else."

"Why?"

You'll thank me in the morning, Kishibe thinks grimly, not deigning to answer. Along with the next few rounds and the rounds after that, he also orders your water and some food, feeling abnormally generous. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your grumbling tomorrow at training. 

He can’t stop thinking how strange this is. It’s strange. You’re here in his usual booth, humming an odd tune while drinking his usual whiskey, when he’s here each night, usually alone. Kishibe feels the deep disturbance all the way to his roots, gnarled and twisted as they are. 

Watching your face twist up at the taste again, Kishibe decides to slow down with some soju instead. Your eyes are getting blurry and your hands have settled into some kind of nervous habit, picking at the edge of the table as you try not to look at him. He doesn't understand your insistence here. Here at the bar, or anything else. 

"Why are you doin' this?" He asks again, quiet.

You glance at him, blinking slowly as your gaze struggles to focus. Then you force a smile, sweet and pure as a Devil's heart. It's damn near chilling to see. 

"'Cause I want to, sir."

"Bullshit." He's looked into you. Your family is alive, financially stable. You're not like most rookies joining up for the pay or the revenge. And from being around you he figures you aren't the type to do this for status. So it doesn't make sense. 

Your smile fades. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You're not cut out for this shit, kiddo. An' I think ya know it, too."

"It's my first night out drinking, how can you tell?"

"Don't play coy with me."

You stand sharply, unsteady, a look crossing your face that Kishibe can't read. Before he can speak again, you're sliding into the booth on his side. 

"Then ask me directly, sir." You whisper, trying valiantly to meet his harsh stare, before eventually losing your nerve and fixing your gaze on the table. 

Like Kishibe has any problem being direct. Fine then. He sets his glass down and turns his body to face you. "Why're ya training so damn hard to become a Devil Hunter when it's just gonna get you killed?"

Cheeks warming, you don't look at him again. "Every Hunter has their reason, or else they wouldn't be here. We don't gotta share them unless we want to."

Your words are halting, and slurred. Kishibe pushes your drink out of reach. A fifth of whiskey and bottle of soju between you both for your first night out was an oversight on his part, even if he had more than you. 

"And you're not goin' to tell me?"

Head dropping into your palm, eyelashes fluttering, you peek up at him. "Not unless you can tell me why you care."

Kishibe pauses. He's got plenty of reasons, but he's not uncouth enough to say them to you. 'Cause he doesn't want to be wasting his time prepping meat for the chopping block. 'Cause booze is expensive and sleep is precious. He doesn't get enough as it is and he's sick at the idea of losing more. 'Cause every time one of his trainees dies, it feels like a new scar cracks its way across the already trampled fragments of his soul. 

There's plenty of reasons he drinks himself nearly dead every night. 

Your fuzzy eyes peer into his darkened ones and seemingly run into the wall that you know he's put up. "Then it's better you don't ask, sir. It’s important to me, that’s all you need’ta know."

So much for direct.

There's a silence at the table after Kishibe gruffly orders another drink, his mood for the night officially ruined. This is why he doesn't socialize with coworkers. Save people by day, check out at night. He lives for one fleeting peace; he'd rather be drowning in booze and laid up in the arms of whatever woman will put up with him.

And all he has right now is booze. He flags the barkeep. "Bottle for the road."

You shift to look at him. "Are we leaving already?"

"Yeah. You've had plenty."

There's no complaint, but there's no mistaking the look of disappointment on your face as he takes your arm and helps haul you to your wobbly feet.

"What's that look for?"

"I was having fun, sir."

"Stop calling me sir."

"Why?"

"Cause we're at a fucking bar. Sir is for work."

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Just Kishibe."

He finally looks at you again and you're smiling and this time there's nothing to be unsettled about. "No honorific? You'll let me call you by name?"

"It's sir at work," Kishibe reminds, deadpan.

“And master in front of other hunters, I know,” you parrot cheekily, and Kishibe merely curls his lips in a temporary smirk.

“Damn right.”

"But not at work?" You prod, leaning into his frame heavily as the cold night air washes away the warmth of the bar.

"Then yeah, drop the honorific."

"Kishibe." His name leaves your lips as a wonder-filled giggle. The corner of his lip tugs further upward unwittingly in dry amusement. At least someone can salvage the mood for the night. 

You poke at the bottle held loosely in his grip. "Can I have some of that?"

He passes it to you. "You don't even like the stuff."

An impressive amount of the amber liquid disappears down your throat before you groan in disgust and pass it back to him. "Sometimes we do stuff we don't like 'cause we get something out of it."

Kishibe hums at that. "And what do you get out of it?"

"'S a secret."

"A secret, huh? You seem to have a lot of those." He drawls, keeping you upright when you almost fall again. Yeah, he needs to find you a taxi or something. Neither of you are driving tonight. It's a little annoying, he meant to stop at the convenience store to get another pack of cigs before going home tonight. The crumpled empty pack is still in his pocket—he hasn't had one since this morning and Kishibe can feel the irritation in his nerves. 

"What's your address kid?" He nudges you as the taxi pulls up, but your weight against his hip suddenly feels dead. "Are you—of course you are."

Kishibe's whole chest fills with his next sigh, and he quietly works to get you into the cab. The driver asks him where they're going and he actually has to think about it for a moment. He'd much rather prefer going back to his cozy little hideout, but it's a mess and much too small. Not to mention he absolutely does not want you knowing where it is.

Closing his eyes, Kishibe reluctantly mumbles out an address, and sinks even deeper into his bottle before the cab drops them off at the requested location.

He eyes you over as the elevator quietly ascends, one arm around your waist with yours around his shoulder to bear your weight. It's really no wonder you passed out, the scent of whiskey is just about crawling out of your pores. Between the two of you, Kishibe bets the elevator smells like a distillery.

The doors open into his “apartment”. 

He doesn't like sleeping here. The place is too big, ceilings too high, furniture too fancy. All those high windows and modern grays and whites. It's perfectly clean and perfectly lifeless, set up for him by the PSDH. He's sure some bright-eyed big shot hunter in it for the money and high living would get a kick out of the place, but for a man like him the space is just obnoxious. But since his studio isn't an option, and Kishibe can't be bothered with taking you to a hotel, he figures you'd rather prefer one of his guest rooms instead. 

Kishibe flinches and grumbles under his breath as the now empty bottle slips from his hand and clatters to the hardwood. You make a rather undignified snort as you startle to awareness. If one could call it that.

“Wha—” Your fingers cling to the sleeve of his jacket as you blink through the blur of your eyesight, struggling to find your footing. “Where’re we now?”

“My place.”

“You live here?” 

“Technically.”

He hauls you towards the kitchen, somewhat a struggle with your uninhibited desire to swivel your head and scan the place as thoroughly as you were presently capable of doing.

“Not what I pictured.” You wobble and right yourself, slumping against the marble countertop. Kishibe pauses, making sure you’re gonna make a dive for his floor before he turns to pull open the fridge.

“Yeah well, me neither.”

“It’s so clean.” That earns you a grunt. “And modern.”

“You tryin’ to say something, sweetheart?” He sends you a look that sends a hot wave of embarrassment across your face.

“No! ‘M just sayin’...”

“Yeah, whatever. Here.”

You take the water bottle he pushes into your hands and open it, halfheartedly taking a few sips to ease the simmer in your cheeks.

Kishibe snorts when you put it down. “Nuh uh, finish that.”

You take another sip, trying to placate him. “‘M not thirsty though.” 

Your eyes widen as he grumbles and steps closer, dark eyes narrowed. It’s impossible to muffle the noise of complaint on your lips as he tips the water bottle back, keeping your chin up with an uncompromising strength. "Tough. I said all of it."

The rough pads of his thumbs feel like fire on your jaw and he seems to have no idea how his proximity is setting you ablaze. You quickly swallow before you choke, or worse spill down your chin like a child. He doesn’t let go until you’ve finished the bottle—it’s impossible not to gasp for air as if you’ve breached the surface of a pool for the first time in minutes.

“Pretty good lungs.”

“I almost died—!” You wheeze, unappreciative of the joke, wiping your face with your arm.

“You were gonna be dead in the morning if you didn’t. Might as well get it over with.” Kishibe sets the empty bottle on the counter, unflappable.

“Hmph.”

You watch curiously as he grabs himself some water, noticing with a scowl that he doesn’t drink nearly as much as he forced on you. He reaches for a small bottle, rattling as he shakes a couple into his palm. “You’re not supposed to take those with alcohol.”

Kishibe gives you a dry look and pops the painkillers into his mouth. He can feel his head pounding already, his routine thoroughly interrupted. He can’t mentally check out with you still here, especially in this state. You look a little more solid now compared to your unconscious slump, but you’re still visibly swaying, blurred eyes drifting in and out of focus. Last thing he needs is for you to do something to yourself when he’s around. The paperwork for that would be the death of him.

He shrugs and nods for you to follow. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You suddenly look nervous. “C’mon where?”

“Night’s over. Time for bed.”

You produce a shaky laugh. “What?”

Sweet fuck.

“You want a bed or the couch?” Kishibe takes applaudable effort to keep the exhaustion out of his tone. Honestly, you'd probably be better off with the couch, grateful for your mumbled little ‘doesn’t matter to me’. He's not sure of the state of any of the rooms, considering he's trashed them before. Whoever set the place up for him might have a cleaning service but he's never bothered to ask about it since he’s never here. “There’s blankets around here somewhere.”

Stepping into the living room he sees he’s right, a couple of soft looking throws draped over the back of a plush black sectional. You’re trailing close behind him, like you’ll get lost if you lose sight of him. 

“Sit.” Kishibe says tiredly as you circle around the edge of the sectional, looking around curiously.

You listen and he grabs the other blanket off the far arm of the couch, tossing it and one of the pillows towards where you’re sitting. The pillow lands at your side, the blanket haphazardly in your lap, are you’re just staring at him as he settles on the other side, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting that fall to the floor.

“Get comfortable, go to sleep,” Kishibe grunts, closing his eyes.

“You’re staying in here?”

He doesn’t read into the tone of your voice, keeping his eyes shut. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own puke in your sleep.”

“‘M not gonna puke,” you grumble under your breath.

Kishibe wills in a sigh, listening to the rustle of blankets and what he assumes is you settling down. Only to tense as the cushion near him dips under weight. He opens his eyes to see you sitting you next to him and his eyes sharpen.

You cut him off, seeming to sense whatever biting remark is coming. “I’m not tired. Not good at sleeping in new spaces.”

“Well you need’ta try.”

“Can we just talk for a bit?”

He sighs, but he doesn’t refute you, opening his eyes to give you a quiet stare. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Relying heavily on the lingering alcohol in your veins to gather the nerve, you scooch closer to his position on the couch, dragging the blanket with you. “You’ve really never had anyone over here? But Himeno says you never spend your nights alone.”

Kishibe eyes you warily as you enter what he considers his field of personal space, your knees barely brushing against his thighs. “I don’t normally spend my nights here. And you can tell Himeno she’s got better things t’do than gossip about my personal life.”

“So you spend the night at their place then?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you really the womanizer everyone says you are?”

Kishibe glances up to see you even closer and shifts a little to give you a measured look, eyelids drooping in suspicion. “You really want the truth of that?”

“Yeah, ‘m hoping to hear something,” you murmur, heart racing as you place a hand on his abdomen. It stiffens under your touch, but he makes no move to stop you, so you toy with the button of his shirt. 

“And what’s that exactly?” Shock receding, his mind catches up and he grabs your hand, keeping it from tracing its upward path.

“There’s something I’m hoping you can help me with, sir.”

“Kishibe.”

“Kishibe,” you correct, cheeks warming as you finally raise your eyes from his chest to look into his own. He’s watching you so closely that you almost look away again, almost chickening out. 

His eyes are locked onto the way you’re chewing at your lip, waiting for you to say something more, hoping for anything that makes sense. When you don’t his patience thins enough to ask, “Well?”

“I-um,” you hesitate before your fingers curl into his shirt, mentally fortifying yourself, “I’ve never… I’m looking for someone experienced to- to help me. I want it to be you.”

There's a small pause as his whiskey-addled mind filters out the meaning of your words. Then, a small disbelieving smirk is half-formed on his lips when he scoffs out a laugh. “Ha, no, sweetheart. No, I don’t think so.”

He’s shifting to stand up off the couch when you panic. You’ve gotten this far! He has to hear you out, or you’ll never be able to look him in the eye again, let alone train under him. So before he can, you throw your thigh over his lap, straddling him. His hands flash to your arms in an iron grip, keeping your hands from wandering any further. He’s staring at you in muted disbelief, tense, as if he can’t quite believe you’re defying him. 

“Please wait,” your voice raises in pitch, but you’re almost whispering. “I can explain, please just listen.”

“What? Cute little student girl got the hots for teacher? Or are you desperately in love with me now, and can’t bear the thought of anyone else sullying your innocence?” he drawls out, the insanity of this situation finally allowing him to release the floodgates on all the ill manner he’s been attempting to keep back all night. 

Your face might as well be a space heater as you splutter in mortification at being seen through so easily, trying to find the words to refute him. “N-no! No, I wasn’t. That’s… That’s not…”

“You better clear this up real quick then, sweets, cause you don’t have long before I take it into my own hands,” Kishibe warns lowly, soft and dangerous, seconds from calling a cab to get you miles away from his apartment, and more importantly him. 

The hard-eyed stare he’s giving you now is nothing like the way he looks at you in training. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought that entertaining your feelings is enough to make him react this way, turning him into this colder version of himself that you barely recognize. This is not going the way you intended, but you can’t imagine that you’ll ever be in a situation like this ever again, so you take a deep breath and clear your expression of all deceit. “It’s not like that, but I really can’t think of anyone else to help me with this. It’s not for lack of trying.”

Kishibe eyes you, his grip on your arms not slacking. You glance down at him warily, and he’s like a bristling cat that’s making an attempt at trust. 

“So…? Will you help me?”

He mumbles eventually, still tense, “Why not Hayakawa? Or one of the other rookies, they’re probably better suited.”

You make a face. “The rookies are stupid, and Hayakawa-san is just too… stern.”

“I’m not stern?”

“That’s not the point!” You retort hotly. “Hayakawa just seems more like someone who isn’t interested in casual flings—”

“And that’s what you’re looking for here?” Kishibe cuts in drily, noting the way your mouth snaps shut. You shift awkwardly in his lap and he stoutly blames his nightly routine for the way his body is sluggishly perking to life. He might have the heart of a saint, but his mind is more like a devil’s… and he has eyes.

Oblivious to his internalizations, you grimace. You don't want casual anything so it's technically a point in Hayakawa's favor. But there's one big point in the younger man's (begrudgingly small) list of cons that can't be overlooked: he's not Kishibe.

“I’m looking for someone who knows what they’re doing,” you inform him, your voice softening. There’s a sort of vulnerability to you now that has the older man caving despite himself and listening more intently, watching you whiplash between assertive and shy for the nth time. “Someone I trust, who won’t take advantage of me. And… I don’t believe the whole sacred virginity schtick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my first time to be… I don’t know, special?”

Kishibe’s mouth runs dry, and this time he blames the alcohol. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead softly, leaning closer without thinking in your excitement. That wasn’t a refusal. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

He can feel your breath on his cheeks, his eyes bouncing between your lips and eyes for a moment before humming low. “No one else? A girl like you, having to settle for an old man like me?”

"No one has to know. Please, sir?" You plead quietly, with crystal notes of sincerity. It's a painfully sweet sound.

Kishibe reluctantly lets your arms slip from his hands and drops his own to loosely grip your waist, absently drawing a pattern on your hip with one finger. The heat of your body is filtering so thick through your clothes that he doesn't know how he didn't notice it until now. You shiver at his touch, and he tries to keep his expression neutral when you instinctively grab at his shoulders.

He shouldn't be considering this for even a second, but he is and he hates himself for it. You're a young pretty thing, and he's made a point to stop looking at young pretty things the way your touch is sparking him to, for going on years now. 

Carefully, one hand moves to rest on your stomach, caressing its way up over your covered chest, eliciting a soft gasp from you before it moves on and settles under your chin, firmly tugging it down to make sure you're looking at him. He's never cared for the way you can't look him in the eye, and he normally lets it go but he won't tolerate it tonight. If he goes through with this, that is.

Your eyes are wide, and glazed in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol for the first time tonight. Kishibe makes a low sound in his throat at the sight of it before speaking, a heavy, rumbling tone meant to ensure you're taking in every word. 

"You want me to do this for you?"

"Yes." Your breath catches as you damn near breathe the word out, your heart in your throat and a flutter in your stomach that makes you feel like you might fly away.

"Then tell me exactly what it is that you want." Fuck, he’s really doing this.

"I…" The hesitation must be clear on your face because his expression gets heated, a tiny smirk forming at the corner of his lips. You wouldn't have seen it at all if you weren't staring at them so hard. A quiet moan spills from your lips as he presses them to your jaw, not quite kissing, but dragging them up, warm breath tickling your ear. The center of your world quakes as he continues with that low, soul-quaking tone.

"Do you want me to treat you like a princess? Worship your body and make it all about you, take you to another world as I take you apart?" Kishibe marvels at the broken whimper you make as he grazes his teeth across your earlobe. "Or do you want me to be a little selfish? Show you pleasure as I know it, and change everything you think you know about carnal desire?" 

"Sir—"

"No," he warns severely, gripping your thigh in warning, pulling back to look you in the eye. 

"Kishibe," you correct yourself with a breathy whine that you hope doesn’t sound ridiculous. "Kishibe, I want you to choose."

"You want me to choose?"

"Th-that's why I chose you. You always- always know what's best."

That's so far from true, but in this realm of possibility, with you blinking those sweet little doe eyes down at him, Kishibe won't be the one to correct you. "...Alright."

"Then please take care of me." Please.

This time it's him who shudders. "Alright," he murmurs again, "Alright, sweetheart. I've got you."

He’s a little gentler this time as he tugs your chin down to him, meeting your lips in a delicate kiss that has all his nerves standing to attention in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. With other women, he has no reason to be slow or gentle. With other women, both parties know what they’re there for, but this isn’t like that. You aren’t like that. You’re young, and if you’re to be believed, untouched. Pure. And you’ve put yourself in his care, begging for him to remove that purity. He’s not sure he ever would have agreed to this if he were sober, so you lucked out. Or maybe this is what you wanted all along.

Kishibe groans softly as you timidly move to respond to his kiss, alcohol sweet on your breath. You at least seem to know what to do here, parting your lips and staying pliant as he learns how you taste, moving your tongue against his as he explores your mouth. He breaks for a moment, giving you a warning and enough time to stop him, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I’m taking this off now.”

He waits, and when you do nothing but moan, he begins to pop the buttons of your shirt open, one by one from the bottom up, exposing your navel, and then the black cotton bra beneath. You kiss him deeper as he slides a hand up your spine, rocking your hips into his lap as he pulls at the clasp, undoing it in a practised move. The fabric falls loose, and he presses a hand to your sternum, forcing you to retreat.

Your lips are slick, a little swollen, but it’s the hazy look in your eyes that has all his attention. “You good, sweets? You even gonna remember this in the morning?”

“I will. I will, 'm promise. Please keep going,” you slur, not really giving him the best vote of confidence. 

“Take that off for me.” Kishibe tugs loosely at your bra, the cups hanging just low enough for him to get a peek at your areolas. His cock is straining in his slacks now, but he’s too invested for it to be uncomfortable yet. He meant it when he said he was going to take you apart, and he’s going to do it slowly.

You blink at him, and timidly slide the straps off your shoulders. Your movements are slow, but there’s less hesitance than he’s seen so far. It’s clear you’re more worried about his disapproval than any insecurities you might have. Good. 

“Good girl. Look at you,” Kishibe is quick to dole out the praise as soon as your tits are exposed, half for your confidence and half because they really are pretty tits. He’s reaching for them before even he can process what he’s doing. Your nipples are already hard, pulled taut and looking painfully neglected, either from your own arousal or the air. It could be cold in here for all Kishibe knows, but the air around him feels thick, heated and charged. He’d be suffocating if he weren’t so focused.

You take a shuddering breath as he holds them. His touch is so light, the pads of his fingers calloused and warm, stroking over the sensitive flesh. You want more, arching into his touch as much as you dare, still unable to shake the thought that he might change his mind and end this, but for now he doesn’t disappoint. Dazed, you realized the sharp gasp that bites the air is yours as he strokes the pads of his fingers over your nipples before tugging lightly, pleasure rippling hot under your skin.

Your head tosses back in a moan as he does it again, this time his lips brushing the curve of your breast as he pulls you forward, pressing your chest closer to his face. He sucks at the fat of your breasts, still gently tweaking your at your hardened nubs, working his way over, seemingly content to explore.

Pleasure moves hot and slow under your skin, but your mind keeps rocketing from one sensation to another, making it impossible to think beyond the man beneath you. His slick tongue moving against your skin, the heat and wet of it stroking over the edge of your areola, the rough pad of his thumb, the scrape of his blunt nail over the sensitive tip of your nipples, the same callouses gripping at your back, fingertips tickling the edge of your shoulder blade. 

“Quit it,” Kishibe grunts after a minute, and you realize you’ve twisted your hands into his hair, tugging him closer and trying to drag him to where it feels like he’s purposefully avoiding. 

“Please, Kishibe, please,” you moan, blissfully unaware of the minor tantrum you’re throwing at you grind down on his clothed erection. “Your mouth.”

“What about it?” He blinks at you lazily, taking the moment where you sit back to tug at the top few buttons of his own shirt, exposing the top of his chest and a peek of the dark hair that’s hidden beneath.

“Let… Let me feel it,” you breathe out after you’ve snapped your eyes away from that new detail.

The slow grin that spreads across his features feels like the first key in the series of locks that surrounds the man in front of you, a piece of him that he doesn’t share willingly. Something that has to be brought out, dragged out, a prisoner in a cage of its own making. 

“Be more specific, sweets.”

But he’s still the same man, he just exists in varying shades. You squirm for a moment, subject to self-consciousness, but the ache in your nipples, growing tighter in the continued neglect, wins out. You cup your own tits, pushing them out as you lean back down to him. “Want it here. Need to feel you suck on them.”

An appreciative gleam brightens dark eyes. “There’s a good girl.”

This time Kishibe leans in with intent, and you learn something else—your mentor is a goddamn tease. 

His tongue drags over your nipples before sucking, and your hands are tangled in his hair again before you can process it, a cry in a pitch you don’t even recognize torn from your mouth. The slick muscle flicks over the tip as his free hand comes up to roll the other between his fingers lightly. You’re shamelessly rutting into his lap now, senselessly chasing the pleasure boiling low in your stomach, and you can feel him moan against your skin at the friction.

You feel the scrape of his teeth, light and intentional, before he pops off and switches to the other. The treatment begins anew and you swear you might be able to come from this, the wet suction of his mouth, the tacky warmth as he tugs and twists at the nipple still covered in his spit. But Kishibe doesn’t let you, noting the frantic ruts of your body and beginning to slow his efforts, easing you back down.

“Wait—” Your complaint rears itself as your fingers twist into the shorter hair of his nape, trying to tug him closer the moment he pulls away.

“Easy, I’m not done with you,” he rasps, taking your wrists and gently detanging your fingers from his hair. 

You yelp as he grips your thighs and flips your back to the cushions, a strength you already knew he had from all the times he’s stomped you in training, but it surprises you regardless. There’s no time to pick through your thoughts at the display, because Kishibe is bullying between your thighs and capturing your lips in a kiss that puts the last one to shame. It’s possessive, it’s plundering; erasing any other thought from your mind except the way he feels against you. How immovable he feels, his hips keeping your thighs spread, his obvious arousal against your core, his weight against your torso—whatever isn’t supported by his forearm against the cushions, just what he chooses to give you—the scratch of his stubble against your face, the ones he lets overgrow because they shadow his jawline again in less than a day. 

You moan into his mouth as a hand slips between your bodies, pulling the button of your slacks and pushing a hand into your panties, the sound turning into a high keen as he drags his fingers through your slit. You know you’re wet, soaked even, but it’s still a shock to feel your own wetness as he pulls back out, slick against your mound before he’s free of your clothing, to see it shining on his fingers when he pulls back to give you a breath. You knew you wanted him, but to see how much would be mortifying if he knew the truth.

The glisten on his fingers goes unnoticed for a second as he catches sight of your wrecked expression, sitting back on his haunches.

“Oh sweets, look at you,” Kishibe chuckles, voice tight. “You’re a pretty sight right now, and you don’t even know. A sweet little mess. My sweet little mess, for tonight.”

Making a decision, he swipes his hands on the thighs of his pants and undoes his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch, aware of the way you stare from beneath him. He's getting there in years, but the aches of this job refuse to let his body go soft. There's a thin layer of soft skin stretched across the muscles beneath, making the definition less pronounced, less assuming, but there's no denying the power behind them as he flexes subtly, smirking when your eyes track the movement. 

"Hips up," he orders firmly, his fingers already tugging at the waistband of your slacks.

Not needing to be told twice, you shift and raise your hips as he pulls them from your legs, panties and all. You're completely bare under him, and he's still wearing his pants, the button popped, looking like a god above you. His eyes are piercing, his expression set like marble. As he puts hot palms on your thighs, spreading them even further apart, you think about how attractive he looks when he smokes, almost wishing he had a cig hanging from his lips so you could see it. 

Kishibe is staring intently at your pussy, the hunger in him growing deeper as he watches the muscles twitch. "So no one's ever touched this, huh?" 

You shake your head, whimpering as he pulls your sticky lips apart. 

"You lying, sweetheart? Not even you?" 

Kishibe pulls back the hood of your poor swollen clit, stroking it lightly with the tip of his finger, dark eyes watching your face intently. 

The touch rips a gasp from your throat like ice had been poured down your back, tossing your pretty little head back into the pillows as your fingers twist at what little slack the cushions beneath you have. Kishibe feels the flames of hell crawl a little closer to his own flesh as his arousal flares dangerously at the sight. 

When you remain silent he prompts a little cruelly for an answer, slowly circling the throbbing bud. "Hmm?" 

"I've-yeah I've touched it. Sometimes." 

"Tell me." 

"Tell you?" You suck in a harsh breath as one of his digits teases your entrance, but pulls away. 

"Yeah, tell me how you touch your pussy at night. I wanna know how you play with yourself." His voice drones with detached amusement but his dark eyes are sharp, the sight making your skin prickle with elation to be the center of his attention.

“Usually slow,” you breathe out, moaning when he moves to your clit again. Two fingers press on the bundle of nerves and begin to rub back and forth in a steady tempo. 

“Like this?” Kishibe murmurs, watching you closely.

“Slower,” your voice breaks an octave higher as he increases the pressure just a little, readjusting to what you now realize are instructions for him. “Y-yes, mm, like that…”

“Good. How about your fingers, hmm? You do that slow too?” 

You can feel yourself dripping down to the couch as his voice drips across you like honey. “Yeah, at first.”

“One to start?” 

“Fuck!” A keen tears from your throat as he slides the first digit in, abandoning your clit, the thick, calloused digit pressing in to the hilt with zero resistance.

“Or do you start with two?” Kishibe watches raptly as his middle joins his pointer in the rippling warmth of your cunt, the broken sob leaving your lips sending a irresistible wave of want tearing through his body. The way your hips grind into his touch, chasing more of him is enough to let him know that you can take more, but he lets you stay here for a moment, using his free hand to stroke over his confined cock as you writhe beneath him. 

It’s not hard to find the right angle to stroke your slick walls, curling his fingers up into the spot that has you tossing your head back with what almost sounds like a mournful wail, as if you’re just realizing that you’ve never really given yourself real pleasure before. Kishibe isn’t sure if you have to be honest, you haven’t said, but he isn’t concerning himself with that. He’s too focused on the way you shy away from his touch when he presses his thumb to your clit again, as if you can’t take the combination.

“Oh?” It’s almost a coo, delight pulsing in his veins. “Not like that huh? That not how you do it?”

“I can’t, I can’t—it doesn’t, n-never like this!” It almost sounds like you’re pleading with him, your eyes wide as you stare at him, a thick haze of shock and bliss covering your irises that Kishibe is losing himself in, pumping his wrist, tempted to add a third finger just to see what sounds you’ll make.

“Told you I’d change everything you think you know about pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls his digits from your pussy, relishing in the whine of protest. And if he’s being honest with himself, there’s a bit of a power complex rushing through him, to be able to control your pleasure whether you think you can handle it or not is too alluring. It’s the thought of making you scream, nothing barred, as he forces ecstasty on you that you don’t even know exists on that has him pushing off the couch which a groan to finally free his cock, shucking his pants off, the liquor leaving him a little unsteady. 

“Sit up for me.” 

You do as he says, confusion scrunching you expression as he settles between your legs, his knees protesting only a little as he shifts so that the plush carpet isn’t dragging uncomfortably against his skin. A little yelp stays in your throat as he tugs you to the edge, spreading your thighs wider and positioning your hips up to expose your pretty pussy. He’s only a breath away, the scent of you thick, kissing distance really, when you slur out some nonsense that sounds questioning, but he can’t say he actually catches any sense of syllables from you.

“I’m thicker than most so you need this,” Kishibe grumbles, nipping at your inner thigh as you squirm and glaring you into submission, “But even a man with a pencil dick better be doin’ this for ya, so don’t accept less.”

Before you can come to terms with him on your knees before you, your mind fizzles out as his tongue swipes through your folds, and his groan vibrates deep into your core. If not for his hands keeping your thighs spread, you would have wrapped them around his head. His nose nudges at your clit as his tongue presses into your clenching pussy, and you can’t stop the garbled sound of pleasure as he laps at your walls, your head tossing back against the couch cushions as he eats you like a meal. It’s surreal, it doesn’t make a lick of sense but oh god you don’t care. The sounds of him slurping at your cunt makes your cheeks burn and you force yourself past your self consciousness to look down at him, the skin of your knuckles stretched tight as you curl them into shaking fists, trying to wrap your mind around the sensations. 

Kishibe flattens his tongue over your clit, and meets your gaze with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slips a finger into you, savoring the way you clamp down right away, giving a reedy mewl. He can’t help himself any longer, one hand closing around his dick and beginning to slowly stroke himself, trying to go slow, to ease some of the pressure and calm himself down. He adds another digit, and sits back as he begins to work you towards your finish. 

“Should’ve done this in a bed,” he mutters under his breath, the scent of your pleasure thick, feeling mildly guilty as you tremble through your long awaited awaited high. Even his first encounter had been in a bed, traditional.

Kishibe hisses into your thigh as your fingers twist so tight into his hair that he’d snap at you if he were anywhere but here. Here with his fingers sweeping over your clit, watching the way your muscles ripple and tense, an obscene amount of slick and cum dripping onto his couch, and damn it why are you so easy to spoil? Why is he letting you practically rip the hair from his head as your hips jolt and jump, pleasure taking every ounce of your control away from you. There’s a wet sound as he finally pulls his fingers from your cunt, and you slump against the cushions, a looking so beautifully fucked out that it’s a damn shame you haven’t actually been fucked yet.

But that’s what you came here for, and Kishibe will not be the one to disappoint. He pushes to his feet for a moment and drags your hips until you’re both on the couch comfortably, and lets himself sink between your legs, his dick hot and throbbing against your inner thigh. It’s weeping precome and there’s a shivering sense of relief to know that his patience is finally about to be rewarded. 

“You still with me, sweets?” Kishibe murmurs softly, leaning over you, letting his lips drag up your throat in a possessive trail of teeth marks and bruises. “You ready for me?”

The prickle of his overgrown stubble brings you back down a little, and you moan as his tongue swipes over the indentations left in your flesh. “That was—” you gasp at a sharp dig of his teeth under your jaw, hips arching towards him as you feel the weight of his dick between your slick folds, thoughts flying from your mind as the thick tip of him slides over your oversensitive clit. “Oh fuck, Kishibe please. I need y- I need it, oh god.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he really is going to ruin you. You can’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this good, so overwhelmed but so hungry for it.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, and your body lights up as he shifts back a little, the head of his cock pressing against you and easing inside your desperate walls. He grins as your arms wrap around his shoulders, lips searching for his as your hips try to squirm deeper onto his cock. He meets you in a deep kiss, but he grips your hips firmly, sliding deeper into your clenching pussy at his own content pace, groaning into your mouth at how hot and wet you are. So tight, so so tight, that he can’t stop the juvenile thought about being sure you were a virgin from flitting through his mind, but he lets it go, not about to sully this experience for you with his own pussy drunk stupidity, closing his eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, forcing you to slow it and calm down for him, echoing your whimpers with tiny groans of encouragement.

His thrusts are as steady and measured as they can be with the way your walls suck him in, pussy lips stretched wide around the thicker middle of his shaft. Every time he pulls out he can feel the way your body is trying not to let him go, and every sink home is accompanied by a shaky little exhale from you that sets a fire so deep in his gut that Kishibe is sure the whiskey is the only reason he hasn’t fallen to pieces yet. You’re so pretty and needy sprawled about beneath him, so sunk to pleasure that you’ve resigned to just taking what he gives you and it’s addictive. His cock throbs as he listens to your mumbled little slurs about how good it feels, and he has to pause, breathing deep and hard as he wills down a sudden and fierce urge fill you with cum.

Kishibe chuckles as he sits up and you let out a whine of disapproval, but a slow roll of his hips changes your tune immediately. You’re sucking him in greedily, your clit swollen and damn near begging for attention. He brushes it gently with the back of his knuckles, hissing as you squeeze him in response, getting impossibly wetter around his length. “Doing so good for me, how are you feeling?”

“More, want more.” It’s barely intelligible with how breathless you are, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes down your temples. Your face is so sweet, so open, trusting and needy and suddenly Kishibe can’t find it in himself to draw it out on you any longer, is done handing out pleasure piece by piece, as if he were passing out candy to savor. He wants to pour pleasure over you, wants you to drown in it, to fall so deeply into it that there’s nowhere to surface to, lost in an endless sea.

One strong arm slides under your hips and pulls you up into a better position, fingers digging into your hip as Kishibe begins to fuck you in quick, steady strokes. His forehead is pressed to your chest, cheek in plush of your breast as he controls his groans, a dark satisfaction choking out the last tendrils of guilt as your fingers desperately weave their way back into his hair once more, cradling his head tightly to your chest. There’s no more irritation; the sharp sting feels like a fucking prize, knowing that the price is an overwhelming pleasure that he can feel through you. You feel so good around him, responding so well to his movements, angling your own hips and moving back into his thrusts, that he can’t stop a continuous stream of curses and praises from melting into your skin.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me sweetheart, so good. Squeezing me so tight, wrapped around me so perfect. You feel good? Everything you fucking wanted, hm?” He bites at the flesh of your chest as you tighten around his dick, goosebumps rising visibly across your skin.

You feel like a live current, so electric and buzzing with energy and it feels like there’s nowhere for it to go, zipping up and down your body only to return, shivering and sparking deep in your belly. You try to articulate that this is way more than you ever thought you could ask for, but all that comes out are bitten hiccups of his name and yes and please please please.

Kishibe is more than happy to oblige, grunting and groaning in his throat, way past the point of feeling guilty that you’re losing your virginity on a goddamn couch, too caught up in your drunken slurs, more from pleasure than whiskey.

He grins as your fingers clench around his bicep, scrabbling as you gasp out, "Ohh, nngh—Sir wait, wait! Please I'm gonna—" 

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Kishihe groans, feeling the rippling constrictions of your sweet pussy drag him closer to the edge.

"No, I'm—I'm gonna pee! Please." 

Kishibe’s s head picks up off your chest immediately, and his thrusts stuffer. "Yeah?" You watch panting as his eyes sharpen, hips coming to a full blessed stop. You feel a bare moment of relief before its ripped away and he's moving again, fucking you a little faster than before. "Then go ahead." 

You give a wordless cry, shame and pleasure clamoring in the shrill note, your head shaking back and forth in denial. You can't hold it, not if he does that. 

"No?" Kishibe feels like the Devil himself as he shifts his angle into a grind, still fast and controlled, watching your features twist as you keep fighting to hold it back. "Am I not making you feel good?" 

"Sir!" Your whine draws the title out, panicked, but your knees dig tightly into his hips, your body at least betraying you. Kishibe works a hand under one of your thighs and presses it towards your chest. One of his palms drags down over your tits, stroking down your stomach to put a gentle pressure over your pelvis. Your eyes fly wide and a moan is forced from your lips as the awful urgency thickens, bliss flooding close to the surface. 

"If I press here you won't be able to stop it." 

Kishibe's stare catches your glazed eyes, dark and hungry. His orgasm is approaching steadily now, pleasure whispering selfish instruction in his ear, and he's unable to help but listen. "You'll come so hard it won't matter anymore. What's a little mess for some pleasure, hm sweetheart? If you want it just tell me." 

Your breath catches. His dick keeps hitting that spot in you that makes it impossible to think rationally. He's making you feel so good, goading you in that voice of his that you've worshipped fervently night after night in your apartment, a pillow as your altar. 

The voice in your head is screaming no. It's pee. He'll think you're disgusting and you look up to him so much. You don't want him to associate you with something like this, to so thoroughly debase yourself. But he's making you feel amazing, his cock bullying all your softest parts with undefinable experience. You've heard the gossip about how your mentor likes to spend his nights, but how are you supposed to complain when he's making you feel like this? And he's the one saying you can p— 

"Get outta yer fucking head and come for me, girl." Kishibe growls through his teeth, palm pressing down firmly, calloused thumb spreading over your neglected clit. 

You shatter and cry out, clutching at him tightly, no room for apologies as you tear red lines down his back. Warmth gushes against his pelvis, but the hot shame holds no candle to the blistering pleasure crackling across all your nerves. Listening to Kishibe groan and curse, the feel of him breaking down into something more genuine as his hips snap roughly into yours in chase of the bliss you’re already neck deep in, you’ve never felt more satisfied. He finishes inside you with a deep grunt and your insides flutter again at the milky warmth, your leg curling tight around his ass because you want all of it, you don’t want it to end yet.

But finally, his cock twitches one last time inside you and begins to soften, and Kishibe collapses on top of you with a little puff. You’re damn near ready to purr in happiness at the full weight of him across your body. His cheek rests between your breasts, but you’re unbothered by the scratch of his stubble as his breathing gets deeper, steadier.

Both of you are covered in sweat, cum, and other unspeakables but you’ve never been so comfortable. His softened cock slips out of you, and one of his arms slips under your waist and you feel your heart thud unevenly as he moves to his side and pulls you closer. His head is still buried in your chest, your one leg tangled between his thighs and your other draped over his hip. His eyes are closed, breathing deep and you find it in yourself to cautiously run your fingers through his hair. Kishibe gives a soft, sleepy rumble of contentment and you glow.

The feel of his hair between your fingers is the last thing you remember before the most luxurious drag of sleep tempts you into its clutch of darkness.

You wake somewhere you don’t recognize, your head thick and pounding awfully. You blink slowly in the low lighting and try to sit up, but your head spins and the pain increases so you let yourself fall back with a low whimper.

You turn on your side, fingers curling into the soft covers over you. Last night had been amazing, but you’re certain you had passed out on on the couch, and as you peer around the curtain-darkened room, it’s easy to tell it’s not the same. You don’t remember being moved; you’d like to say you would have woken up if someone had, but even you can smell the alcohol seeping from your pores. 

Heart pounding unevenly, you try to calm yourself. You’d been dressed in a soft pair of boxer briefs and a tshirt far too large for you, and while you still feel a little bit sticky, you honestly had expected far worse—someone had tried to clean you up. Your heart starts to race now, fluttering and far too fast at the idea of Kishibe taking care of you. Those are a lot of extra steps to take for someone who preached respectable distance. 

“There’s painkillers on the nightstand.”

You finally manage to sit up at the promise of pain relief, seeing the foil tablets and a glass of water, and glance at Kishibe in the doorway, looking about as disheveled as you expect you do. He’s in a loose tshirt and a soft, worn looking pair of sleep pants, blinking sleep and liquor from his eyes as he peers in at you. 

“I’m gonna shower, you should too. There’s towels in the bathroom there.” He nods his head deeper into your room and you see another doorway, probably leading to the bathroom. “And you’re out of luck on breakfast. All the place has is coffee and water.”

Your stomach gives a displeased turn at that, desperate for something to offset last night’s alcohol. Before you can say anything, not even so much as a thank you, Kishibe turns and shuffles down the hall. 

Slowly, you ease out of the bed and gratefully swallow down half the water before even glancing at the pills, but your screaming head does make sure you toss them back as well, before you peek down the hallway your mentor had disappeared down. You hear the sound of running water and follow it, wandering through the doorway to the room he obviously slept in last night, the bed an unkempt mess of blankets. The door to the bathroom is closed, and there’s already steam filtering through the gaps.

Letting an uncharacteristic determination carry you forward, you open the door and begin stripping off your clothes.

“Get out, sweetheart.” Kishibe’s voice sounds tired and distant, filling you with nerves that you refuse to let show on your face as you ignore him slip into the shower.

He’s working soap through his hair, leveling you with a deeply unimpressed look that would have sent you skittering before last night, before he called you his sweet little mess, before he called you good fucking girl. You take a deep breath and speak your mind.

"I want that again." 

His response is flat, immediate. "Not gonna happen." 

"Why not? Was it not good?" You look embarrassed and distraught at the thought and Kishibe heaves a sigh. 

"How good it was has nothin’ to do with why we can't do this again." 

“So you regret it?”

Kishibe isn’t sure where he stands on that yet. “Didn’t say that.”

"But then..." 

"But what? I told you this was a bad idea didn't I? You should've chosen someone else. Anyone other than me." 

You get a little salty at that. "I might be younger than you," Kishibe gives a sardonic huff "—but I'm still old enough to make decisions for myself." 

"Old enough to make your own decisions, huh." 

You shift under the water as he gives you a tired stare, his gaze sharpening into something more contemplative, glinting dangerously. 

"So you're saying you want that again?" Kishibe questions calmly. 

"Yes," you whisper, uncaring if it makes you sound desperate. 

"If we do I've got some stipulations," he warns, voice low.

"Like what," your breath hitches as he leans closer, the water getting hotter against your back as he reaches past you to adjust the temperature. 

"Well for starters," he grumbles, "I don't have any interest in going to your place. It's here or nothing." 

"Fine." Your response is immediate, relief coloring your tone that you're not being immediately shut out. 

"And this arrangement will be temporary, no matter how long it goes on," Kishibe continues slowly, his fingers coming up to pinch your lips together, cutting off whatever you were opening your mouth to say. "I'm not the kind of man that would treat ya like you're nothin'. I'm gonna tell you you're sexy when I've got you under me and I'm gonna clean up whatever mess I make of you, so I need to know you're not going to confuse common decency and respect with love, got it?" 

You nod slowly, struggling to wrap your mind around the weight of his words. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, you just want more of whatever you can get. It's just a crush, maybe you'll figure out how to squash your feelings somewhere down the line. So you get a little hurt along the way, so what? You're not entirely sure how any of that is a problem and why he looks so serious.

"Anything else?" He hasn't spoken for a minute, but you can still see deep thought etched into his expression.

Kishibe glances at you, soap dripping from his hair down his neck. "Yeah, one more thing."

It's the most damning thing. Makima herself would be proud of him for this. This kind of thing is more her style, but he's already made it this far. 

"Ya have to join the civilian sector."

He senses more than feels you stiffen behind him, closing his eyes and beginning to rinse his hair out as he waits for you to speak first. He's not blind, not anymore—after last night he'd really have to be to not understand the way you've been looking at him, probably since the beginning. Kishibe doesn't know how he didn't see it sooner, probably willful ignorance. But his eyes have been opened and he can't unsee it; you're a brat; you wear your heart on your sleeve, and for whatever reason…its flag is flying his colors. So he's going to use that, and you can thank him when you survive the year.

"Join the civilian sector?" Your voice trembles.

Kishibe glances down to see you chewing your lower lip. "Or quit. Find a cozy desk job somewhere. Either works."

"Why?" Your demand is fierce but it's weak; you look like a scruffy little kitten that needs shelter but too scared to come out of the rain. Kishibe can see you crumbling already, making his final stab. Why you'd want him this bad is beyond him, but dirty tactics have never been beneath him. 

"If we're doin’ this, you're going to be available to me when I want you. Otherwise I can find others, like I've been doing. Finish up in here, and I'll make some coffee. Might as well go to the office together."

Despair crosses your features, and Kishibe lets the silence do the last of the work, stepping out of the stream and reaching for a towel. He makes quick work of drying off and getting dressed, bones aching for coffee. Curiosity pangs deep in his nerves as he wonders why killing yourself in Public Safety is even worth that expression, and why he’s equally as important as whatever it is. He tries to put it out of his mind and fails, fingers tapping on the expensive countertop.

As the coffee percolates, Kishibe hears the water shut off and the mental image of you stepping out of his shower flickers through his mind, ghosting along the memories of the way you felt beneath him last night. He tries and fails to admit to himself he’s not coming out entirely on top in this situation.

When you finally slip into his kitchen, dressed in your crumpled uniform from last night, you’re no longer wearing that brokenhearted little face, and Kishibe braces himself for whatever little pep talk you managed to give yourself while he was gone. He pushes a mug towards you and the sugar he somehow found while he was waiting. 

“I have my own stipulations,” you grumble finally, accepting the mug without looking at him, spooning sugar into it. He wants to wince at the shriek of metal on glass as you stir, but he doesn’t.

“If I have to quit the hunter society to be ‘available to you’, then you have to be available to me.” Your eyes are a little heated as they finally meet his, and Kishibe gives a noncommittal hum. “Meaning you don’t get to sleep around. Just with me.”

Ah. Makima would be proud of you too, Kishibe muses to himself. He decides to let you feel that victory and puts on a show, feigning annoyance. He drums his fingers on the counter and gives you a dry, measured look. “What, sweetheart, want me to get tested or something?”

You rise to his bait, snapping a little. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Fine.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. “Maybe you should too, since you’re so worried about my health.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks at the thought of making that appointment, but you push through it. “Fine, I will. I’ll be needing to get on birth control anyways.” The barest hint of shock flickers through his expression before he slams it back to its usual tired smirk.

“Anything else?” He asks, sarcasm barely kissing the edge of his tone.

Your thoughts scramble to all the things you’d listed to yourself in the shower but with him looking at you like that, bemused, confident, smug, you forget most of them. You latch onto one thing and give him a glare. “I get a key. And I can sleep here whenever I want. I’m not waiting outside in the cold to be your booty call.”

Kishibe gives you a look and starts to pull a pen out of his jacket but changes his mind. He watches all the bravado and irritation drain from your expression as he steps into your space, melting into something else, something expectant, electric. He pretends he doesn’t see it, pretends that his blood doesn’t pick up at the sight of it, and whispers the passcode to the apartment, so close to your ear that he could bite it. Could.

He pulls back and listens to your shuddering exhale, tilting your chin towards him. “That’s for you only. I don’t give people access to my personal space, got it?”

You nod dumbly, eyes wide and body hot as his dark eyes flicker to your lips.

“Then I guess we gott’a deal, sweetheart.”

[spnbangbang]

Eye of the Beholder

Author: Avonlady

Artist: szlez

Primary Ship: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Other Ships: Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy

Length: 13,707

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Tags: Canonverse; Established Relationship; Dean Winchester wears lingerie; praise kink; Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Castiel; Sex on the Impala; Rimming; Anal fingering; BAMF Castiel; bashful Dean Winchester

Posting Date: November 1, 2024

Summary Castiel couldn’t get the vision of Dean in silky panties out of his head. He makes a trip to a lingerie store to buy Dean a gift but doesn't count on the hunter being so shy about showing Castiel how gorgeous he truly is. Castiel won’t have the man he loves being unsure of his own body, so the angel is happy to show the hunter just how much his body deserves to be treasured.

Excerpt Castiel walks into Dean’s room-without knocking because Dean is usually always dressed-and finds Dean bending over, trying to grab something out of the bottom drawer of his dresser. Castiel’s brain short circuits- which is not easy to do since he is an angel- and if he had a heart that actually needed to beat to keep him alive, he probably would have dropped dead from shock as his eyes become laser focused on the man in front of him wearing satiny pink panties. He shuts the door a little harder than he should have, not really caring at that point if he was being quiet, which alerts Dean to his presence in the room. Dean straightens up and glances at Castiel with wide eyes, looking like a deer caught in headlights, and rushes to the bed to grab the pillow, covering himself with it. “Cas, don’t you know how to knock?” Dean asks, his voice cracking some as he speaks and his cheeks a little pinker than when Castiel saw him a little while ago. Castiel walks towards Dean, removing his trench coat and suit jacket as he goes, not caring where they land on the floor, Dean following the movement with a questioning expression. Dean doesn’t speak as Castiel steps closer and reaches for the pillow, but Dean backs away and just holds the pillow closer to himself. “Cas, what are you doing?” “I just want to look, Dean. Can I see, please?” Dean lowers his head to avoid looking Castiel in the eyes. “I don’t-I don’t want you to think of me differently. It’s why I haven’t let you see me naked yet. It’s embarrassing.” Castiel tilts Dean’s head up with his finger placed under the hunter’s chin. “Please don’t hide from me, Dean. You are stunning. I want to see all of you.”

[kirbyyuu]

IN ANOTHER TIMELINE? 🎐 [Suguru x NonSorcerer!Reader]

Angst/no comfort, implied major character death, canonverse, no smut, gn reader

Desc: Suguru can't make any exceptions when it comes to his new world. Not even when its his lover.

A/N: literally my first time doing this and idk if i will continue writing or not but i had to get this out of my system, enjoy <3 feedback appreciated!

Not proofread yet

The faint glow of the waning moon just might be the last light you see before you face your finality. 

Or would it be the unsettling glow of his eyes?

Your back pressed against the cold walls of the dilapidated building– your eyes darting far across the alley, scanning for any…. Any means of escape. Your breath uneven, throat dry– nobody would even hear you scream here. 

His face comes into view now, a pale imitation of your lover– your hands slightly tremble as it grasps the wall beside. You look him in the eye, feeling your heart drop with the realisation that things were gone too far now.

It’s too late….. Is it my fault?

“Love….” Suguru started speaking in his usual honeyed voice, “Love…. I have to do this. No exceptions.”

Was he as gentle to the others as well? His parents? The villagers? Or was this special weapon crafted just for you? 

“That’s what you keep saying to yourself. But you know– you know that's not true.” Your voice was high pitched, stark against the deathly silence of the night. “But you’re one of them darling, a–” his face scrunched slightly, as if disgusted or pained that he had to remind you of this crucial detail, “a monkey.”

You breathe in slowly, eyes set on the pale visage of the man you loved– the moonlight shining off his raven black hair– and for a moment you felt like you were starving for salvation and he was something holy. 

“So this is what conditions your love? And ideology? A stupid one too, in fact?” 

Maybe you weren’t quite the wordsmith, now that you're at the brink of death. Suguru’s brows knit into a soft frown, for a moment you think– This is it, this is how I go.

But he stands back, his lips tremble slightly for a quick moment. “I did– I do love you. Don’t you… don’t you want a better world? I thought you would understand– don’t you want me to be happy?” “A better world that I don’t live to see? How’s that fair?” He frowned even more, his eyes dimming. “I’m not allowed the luxury of love when the world is at stake.”

“So you’re the hero?”

“Precisely.”

“But heroes lose everything…. Suguru.”

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing further at your words. There was the slightest hint of emotion on his face to be replaced immediately by resoluteness.

A familiar acrid smell suddenly invaded your senses, the temperature dropped as goosebumps adorned your skin. You couldn’t see it– but you knew he had summoned a curse. What a pity… you weren’t even privileged enough to see what’ll end you. 

Your time was running short, adrenaline pumping through your veins as your mind screamed at you to run– run anywhere, rationality overtaken by fear but your feet still rooted to the spot. You look at him again, his familiar presence shrouded by the peculiar clothing he donned as a mark of his new beliefs. And even then you couldn’t help but think– he looks almost divine. 

“If I have to….” his voice drawled, “I’ll be the worst person– to get rid of your kind. For the greater good.” 

That was the final nail on the coffin within which lay your last hope of convincing him otherwise. He slipped away like sand between your fingers– your desperate grasping was meaningless. 

But I still want to hold on. 

Suguru noticed your slipping form, how you seem to become smaller as the weight of your reality grew heavier on you. Your knees almost gave way. 

“I’m doing this because there’s something greater than just us. A purpose. Don’t you see the grand scheme of things? Wouldn’t you want things to be actually righ–”

“Stop lying!”

You weren’t fully in control now, your rage was bursting at the seams– ready to drown your lover in a torrential downpour of your hurt and betrayal. You were angry, you were so so angry. 

You were also so in love. 

A sob broke out, you desperately wiped away your tears. You don’t hear Suguru say anything–  or maybe he did but the ringing of your ears drowned out almost everything from your perceptions. 

A minute goes by, you don’t say anything more…. What’s the point? Your sobs get more controlled as you press yourself further against the moss covered wall. You hear Suguru tutting. “I tried to be patient with you. I thought you deserved it.”

You weren’t paying attention to his words anymore. Your heart beat was slowing down…. Or was it faster than ever? Your breath steadied….. Or were you just too afraid to breathe anymore? It almost felt like you were high, a dazed look crossed your eyes. 

Suguru scowled. Were you finally accepting your fate?

Slouching, your voice spoke to him again– faint. Defeated.

“Tell me something…..some-something Suguru. Do we… always end up like this? In every timeline?” 

The cult leader’s eyes widen at your sudden question, feeling a sharp unexplainable pain jolt his being. He gulped. 

His purpose… he had to remember his purpose. 

“Y/N-- stop this.”

Oh how he hated the way that question made him feel.

“N-no tell me…. Do we always- always end like this? Doomed to belong but never find each other? 49%.... 51%-- we never meet halfway? Or-or Like Orpheus and Eurydice…. No– no…. I’m Icarus. I’m Icarus and I’ll love you even in my demise–”

“Y/N!” 

Suguru’s voice held a newfound irritation– your words… your words were annoying, your words were like nails against a blackboard, your voice was too whiny, too desperate, you spoke like you could sway him, you were sickening, your very being was sickening and you were a plight on this world just like the other monkeys, you you you–

“I love you, Suguru.” 

A short pause.

“I love you.” 

“Just stop!”

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about another timeline. He didn’t want to think about…. possibilities.

“Just– stop!” 

It seemed like his growing anger directly fueled his curse as you felt something suffocate you, crashing down onto you in waves and making you break out in cold sweat. You let out a small cry.

Suguru’s eyes flickered, he tried to recollect himself to not let you know of the tempest brewing inside, a constant chant of what ifs and what could have beens. But one question echoed within the walls of his conscience no matter how much he tried to stifle it– in another life, does he disappoint you again? Will you never be his again? You were perfect, only if you hadn't been a–

He looks at your cowering form, the pallor on your face, the sweat beading your forehead, your hair unkempt and your eyes bloodshot and tired. He sees you, he sees you be so miserable. He raised his hand. 

“Monkey, I’ve given you enough of my tolerance. You speak too much.”

And you were smiling....... smiling up at him– just like the day when he had first seen you as a mere teenager, the faint curl of your lips like a punchline to a grand cosmic joke. 

And then you closed your eyes. 

🦋🦋🦋