#drawing the hair on his hands and wrists especially is so fulfilling for me... like teehee me too rauel. same.

[marcmorrigan]

quickie pre-canon rauel and eiden sketch! this turned out super cute, i love these boys

he/him for rauel and eiden, thnx!

[justblades]

⌕ LUSTFUL REQUIEM, 18+

⟢ yandere! blade x afab! reader wc : 1.7k

⟢ cw : fxck buddy! blade, dubcon, cervix kissing, degradation, toxic themes, filming, choking, somnophilia

❝ you're merely a canvas, and his longings are stains— to etch on your skin that you are none other than blade's. ❞

blade is not one to typically fall for eye candies as if it was a part of his everyday routines, no one piques his attention nor does the male has his eyes set on a person. it was not until long once he gets a taste of flavors of lust: commixing together, making a concoction he would never forget, that one day, he decided to yearn for more.

every beginnings are sweet nothings that eventually become bitterly endings - one could draw that conclusion as scenes continue to unfold, blade's grasp on your wrists tightening as he bucks his hips upwards, thrusting into your slit with little to no difficulties.

adorned by your melting features are the weak sighs you let out everytime he slips his cock into you, sweat and drool racing down your dewed skin. "louder." his voice was flat and stern, an intonation that pierces through your wary self. you part your lips wider so more natural moans come out just as the male orders you to, a smirk of satisfaction following suit once his wish is finally fulfilled.

"were you moaning this loud for that asshole earlier?" another question rises from blade's dry throat, dehumanizing queries coming out one by one the longer the session prolonged. you shook your head vigorously and shut your eyes, but blade bucks his hips with more force now, his cock's tip eventually meeting with your cervix. "don't give me that nodding and shaking your head, i only take words for an answer."

his brows tightly knit, frustration seethes out of his gritted teeth. "answer!"

uncertainty fills your heart to the brim as you slowly take a trip down the memory lane, recollecting the events that unraveled earlier that lead to this now-present, once future.

crimson hues seep out of the man's wounds, several of his teeth had fallen out already - his body failed to keep himself stable and the navy haired across him doesn't falter. he only continues. "i can do this all night." blade says with utmost confidence lacing his words, the bandages of his hand come undone, revealing such deep wounds that seemed to have never recover.

ah. you understand a part of blade's destructive behavior now. the reason he's like this was because you slept with another man behind him— "fucking slut. how could you do that to me?" he lets go of your wrists for a short moment, only for them to land back on the silhouette of your waist, cupping the margins to make your body shudder the deeper he pushes in- "come on. rock your hips like how you did as you fucked that loser."

it was only a connection solely established to cope with ephemeral temptations. shortlived feelings yet the hardest to resist is what describes lust best, especially for two beings who feed on nothing but these urges. it was a mutual bond, a shared understanding to not be cuffed by the confinements of this relationship, but blade crossed that fine line like it was a a puny boundary for him.

you should've known from the beginning. you should've been able to discern from the way his glassy eyes scrutinize your appearance everytime he realizes you just got back from the hands of another man. you should've been able to know from the way the words roll out of his tongue when he speaks out of frustration, no rational thoughts behind those lashed out actions.

amidst of all of that - it feels good to be filled to the brim by your fuck buddy's dick. regardless of how he beat the guy you were with into a pulp with no hopes of recovering, here you are, basking in the pleasures intercourse with blade had to offer. it felt gratifying, but it's also heavily contradicting.

the same hands he use to inflict wounds on people who got close to you are the same hands now gradually becoming tender in his touches as he pounds into your velvet walls - blade picks up this little detail, a sneering smile replaces his scowl in an instant. "are you feeling good now?" he leans to your face, the tall bridge of his nose few inches away from yours.

your eyes burn in crystalline reflections, perfectly reflecting blade's image as he presses his lips onto yours, tongues next in action, twisting and twirling altogether— fighting for dominance. "h. . hmm." you hum as a response, much to blade's delight. he quickly breaks it off however, a hoarse chuckle slips out next.

"i've become so whipped for you," blade muses, catching you off guard. he bats his long lashes as he trails your facial features up and down. "i can't bear the thought of anyone else fucking you like this." his dominant hand at present cups your cheek, the thumb finger drawing viscules on the dampened skin. blood rushes into your cheeks as you mewl at how his grip once more tenses, "at last, i can call you mine now." his smile felt rather eerie that you could only return a mere "huh?"

he shifts his gaze elsewhere, a coy smile replaces the eerie one in a blink. "i can't believe my fantasies are finally coming to real life." a crease between your brows forms but the male has your body flipped in 20 machs speed, your back now lays flat on the matress while his cock is nestled in between your lower lips, he rocks his hips forward to make friction, another string of mewl escaping past your mouth.

"but . . but didn't we agree there's no strings attached in this?" the atmosphere grows suffocating, blade's looming presence tripled, leaving no room for you to breathe. a click of tongue then chimes into your ears, "those agreements hold no meaning any longer. i've fallen for you . . and you have too. right?" the airway from your throat proceeds to become scuffed as his two hands wrap around the part, "b-blade i can't b—!"

he reinserts his cock back into your entrance and your cunt gladly accepts his intrusion, clamping around his shape as he continually molds your insides. "say you're mine. say only i have the privilege of relishing you like this."

'blade has gone insane', is what you thought upon hearing those bizarre words of choice. you're starting to fear for your life underneath the contrasting touches of your sexual partner, you had no choice but to fall prey to his temptations. his navy dipped scarlet strands tumble on his shoulders in every thrusts he does, he sports a look you've never seen before: a predatory gaze as he watches your lust ridden body, "i-i'm yours. . i'm all y-yours!" you yelp.

you could only hope he gives you a slack, even just a minute would be nice to indulge without him bombarding you with insults and offensive questions. "finally." he rejoices with another arrogant smile, solferino irises turning inwards at the halfhearted sentence that rang to his ears like sweet tones.

"ride me again." for the nth time, he commands you once more. you could feel all the fatigue gnawing at your bones, unable to register how much energy the mental state can drain oneself. blade sees you struggle and he helps you get into position with the help of his fists on your feet, "no, turn the other way around."

your back faces him while your hands are propped on his sculpted, bandaged thighs. this position out of the dozen ones you've already tried with blade strikes you as the most embarrassing one. your legs continue to tremble as you try to keep yourself up, but only now a late realization dawns in your mind as you get a clear sight of what's placed in front of the cabinet across the bed: a cellphone camera accurately leveled to catch both your bodies in one frame.

"hah, you just saw that now?" he pants as he reinserts his dick back into your entrance, your pussy spasms from being ravaged by his cock. "it'll be for our eyes only. i can never share such intimate moment with others, they're simply undeserving."

you wished that reassurance could've ceased your worries, but it didn't.

"this video will be our proof of love and my proof of property of you. this day marks my ownership of you." he murmurs, his deep voice meshes with the squelching sounds emitted from his cock kissing your pussy, and the jagged breathy mewls. "i'm so delighted all of my hardwork paid off, mmh. . ." low moans continue to bubble from his throat, his fingers sinking deep to your body.

"i don't want to share you anymore."

.

.

.

"those days are long over."

.

.

.

"hmph, are you listening?"

blade ascends from his position only to see your passed out state - he cracks a hoarse chuckle afterwards, seeing your frail figure right in the solace of his arms.

"this is fine. i can still worship your body regardless of your consciousness." he murmurs to himself, readjusting your position laid back again in the soft cushions. he coils his hands around his dick, tightening his grip to merit himself waves of pleasure. "ah, haah, i feel so good." blade's guttural moans bounce off the room's four walls, the male then swiftly rubs his tip on your entrance, and with little force, it slips back in. "i'm happy. i . . i know you are too."

all blade is a filth of sorrow, regrets and sadness. growing up, he never understood the charm of owning something. he'd always watch by the windowsill, a blank expression carved on his face, seeing children around his age gleefully claim what's theirs. perhaps . . his upbringing was molded that way for today. for today, he finally owns something now. something that fills the cup of his heart to the point that it's overflowing - something that could satisfy his perpetual yearning.

it is no doubt he'll never let go of you now— at present, you're nothing but a bird inside of a rotten cage. you're merely a canvas, and his longings are stains— to etch on your skin that you are none other than blade's.

that you're merely a timeless fodder for his everlasting hunger: a hunger to own and a hunger to love. at long last, he finally has one.

"i really love you."

A/N : the upbringing part is just my own and obviously not canon, it's more to expound on how he became a yandere for reader ^^ my masterlist !

[bullet-prooflove]

Kinktober 24: Full - Nick Torres x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @whateversomethingbruh @district447 @lovebookheart @stelacole

Companion piece to:

Where Evil Grew - Nick has to tell you the bad news about your sister.

Grief - Nick tries to be there for you after the discovery of your sister's body.

Falling Apart (NSFW) - Nick turns up on your doorstep when his father disappears for a second time.

Acts of Service - Companion piece to Falling Apart (NSFW) - Nick turns up at your door after you suffer an injury.

What You Like (NSFW) - Nick remembers exactly what you like.

Red Rag - Sawyer finds away to piss off Nick.

Right Place, Right Time - Sequel to Red Rag - You tell Nick the truth about you and Sawyer.

Nick Torres has always been about making your dreams come true, even before the two of you got together. Now that you’re his, he dedicates himself to fulfilling every single one of those filthy fantasies you keep locked up inside that pretty little head of yours, especially the ones you’ve never told anybody else.

“You’re going shy on me.” He teases you one night.

You’re straddling his lap as he sits on sofa, the TV on in the background. His thumb chases over the line of your jaw as he looks up at you the edges of his mouth tipping up into a smile.

“Go on tell me…”

“It’s so filthy Nick.” You whisper, your cheeks colouring. “Like we’ve done some dirty stuff together but this…”

“You know I’d give you anything.” He tells you, his teeth nipping at your lower lip. “Anything you damn well want.”

“Every hole.” You say finally, your forehead coming to rest upon his. “I want to be filled. Not with other people, just with you.”

“I can do that for you.” He murmurs, his mouth claiming yours. “This weekend we’re going to make that fantasy come true.”

On Saturday night, he turns off both of your phones, draws the curtains and shuts out the outside world. He pours you each a glass of wine before he starts his seduction because he want you relaxed, pliant. He takes his time undressing you, working you up until your dripping, desperate, needy and that’s when he brings out the toys.

The leather wrist and ankle restraints, the black butt plug with the glittering blue gem and the vibrator you tell him feels exactly like him when it’s inside you.

“You’re going to come with my cock in your mouth.” He tells you, slipping a pillow under your hips before he lubes up his fingers, using them to trace over your asshole. “But first I’m going to fill these pretty holes of yours.”

When he’s finished with you, you look like the perfect little gift, all trussed up for him to play with. His cock juts out from his body, precum leaking down the shaft as he watches you test your restraints. You’re lying on your stomach, your wrists bound behind your back, attached to your ankles, that gem shimmers from between your cheeks as he taps it once turning it on. A low groan escapes your lips as the vibration starts and his hand dips lower activating the vibrator. The noise you make, it almost makes him come right there and then.

“You still want this baby?” He asks you, his palm cupping your jaw. “Want me to fuck your mouth?”

“Please.” You whimper as his fingertips stroke over your cheek.

“Oh honey.” He sighs as he guides his cock into the confines of your mouth. “You always say please so nicely.”

Christ you feel good, you always do, no matter which hole he’s fucking. His fingers tangle in your hair, holding your head in place as he begins to thrust into that hot, wet cavern, taking his own pleasure as yours builds and builds, like a fire being stoked.

You’re getting close now, he can feel it in the way your mouth tightens around his dick, the thrum of your stifled moans as he picks up the pace. His palm slips down to the nape of your neck holding you flush against him, throat full of his cock. The ecstasy raises up inside of you like a tidal wave, stealing through your entire body as you cry out your rapture around his cock, tipping him over the edge. He pulses down your throat, thick white streaks flooding your mouth as he looks down at you with gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“That’s it baby.” He murmurs, pushing his come deeper. “Make sure you swallow every single drop.”

Love Nick? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[throneofsapphics]

suspended

Feysand x f!Reader 

Summary: Day 17, bondage with Feysand 

Warnings: smut, bondage, oral (m!receiving), fingering, light degradation, blindfold, light d/s dynamics, minors dni!

kinktober masterlist

Feyre hummed as she carefully spun the ropes around your body. She stopped every few passes to trace her hand over your cheek, to look in your eyes and check in with you, a soft and peaceful smile gracing her lips. You know how much she loves this - of course you do as well, but she always seemed calmer after one of these ‘sessions.’ 

You winced as the next one tugged especially tight. “Sorry love,” she murmured, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “It has to be tight this time.” 

Tight this time? For what? You didn’t question or push her for answers, knowing all well she wouldn’t reply. But … you did try Rhys, sending a questioning look to where he was sitting - in an armchair, legs stretched out in front of him and fingers interlocked behind his head. He shook his head slightly, but the look on his face told you he knew what was headed your way. Before you could stick your tongue out at him - or send him some kind of rude gesture, Feyre spoke again. 

“Hands behind your back now.” You listened, and she wound the rope around your wrists, loose enough a finger or two could slip between them, but not enough for them to slip over your hands. You felt a tug in the middle of your back, and instinctively pulled back against it. 

“None of that,” Feyre chided, tugging you right back in place. You glanced behind you, spotting the thick rope attached to your back just in time before Feyre pushed your head back forward again. 

A snap of Rhys’s fingers and a blindfold covered your eyes. You grumbled as Feyre thanked him for it. Footsteps sounded across the room, and Rhys’s arm circled around your back, the other on the back of your head, holding you nice and steady into his body. Feyre’s hands ran over your thighs, running up and down in light strokes.

She gripped one, carefully wrapping your entire upper thigh, one at a time before binding the two of them together. At least that’s what you thought she was doing, it was difficult to tell without you seeing it. You tried to figure out what the point was, what the end game was for her, but any questions you asked were quickly muffled by Rhys’s hand. You would’ve found it amusing had you not been so frustrated. 

“Patience is rewarded,” Feyre’s hand swatted your ass as you let out a muffled grumble. 

You lowered your mental walls, and felt Rhys’s presence. 

“Will you show me?” 

“No.” He answered firmly. “And stop whining.” 

“Or what?” You teased. 

His hand fisted itself in the back of your hair, tugging just enough you felt a slight hint of pain. 

“You won’t like the results.” You didn’t argue with him any further. 

You let out a yelp as something attached to the back of your legs, yanking you back. 

Slowly, your legs were lifted into the air, and you flailed as your body left the ground. 

“You’re alright, love,” Feyre whispered, running a hand down the bare skin on your back. Something supported your hips - magic maybe, you weren’t certain, only focused on the fact that you were now horizontal and if you could see - your eyes would see only the carpet beneath you. 

You focused on your breathing, on staying calm, and vaguely registered more rope winding itself around your upper arms, your elbows - and then your ankles. Your back arched as your legs were tugged forwards, tying them off to your wrists. 

“Pretty little slut,” Rhys croons, “all tied up for us.” Fingers twist and pinch your nipples, drawing a strangled moan from your lips. 

Two fingers drag up your folds, “she likes it,” Feyre murmurs, gathering all of the arousal pooling between your thighs. Gods you do like it, suspended here - embracing the discomfort, knowing you’re helpless and at their mercy. There’s a type of cathartic release in it, in letting go of control, in trusting both of them to take care of you - to fulfill all of the dirty desires you used to keep hidden. “Maybe I’ll paint this one day.” 

You hear light footsteps, circling around you and Feyre sends you an image - her fingers in Rhys’s mouth, his eyes glazed over with lust as he cleans them, releasing them with a pop, and a smirk on his face as he glances back to the side - back over at you. 

“Can I see?” You mumble, sticking your bottom lip out and pouting. Another swat directly to your ass, harsher this time and with a larger hand - Rhys. You rock forward with the blow, your entire body shifting as you ease back and forth. 

“Don’t be greedy,” Feyre chides, but her voice is light with amusement as she runs her hands over the ropes holding your body hostage, stopping only to drag her nails along the slivers of bare skin. “I think her mouth needs something else to do, don’t you Rhys?” 

“I think so, darling.” He purred, and you heard the sounds of clothing shifting, feel yourself lowered, and a small hiss came from Rhys - and felt him, his cock pressed against your lips, and Feyre’s hand gripped the back of your hair. You’ve learned the differences in their touches, how Feyre liked to dig her nails in the back of your head, while Rhys would pull your hair back instead to arch your neck. You open wide, and he slides in - as deep as he can as your sputter around him while Feyre’s pushed you further down. You did your best to suck your cheeks in, to swirl your tongue around just as he likes, but he didn’t move - staying perfectly in place to let you drool around him, and struggled to keep your breath. Feyre let out a low laugh, before pulling your head back - and pushing down again. She was merciless, forcing you to take him deeper and deeper with each pass, and ignored your muffled yells and gags around him. 

“Look at you,” She breathed, “choking on him, taking his cock like a good little whore, you want this - don’t you?” She’s right, you did want this, but you knew all you’d have to do is snap your fingers and everything would stop. Still, you doubt you’d ever do that - you never have, and they’ve never gone too far, pushing the limits but always giving you exactly what you could handle. 

A groan came from Rhys, and his cum hit the back of your throat. “Take it all baby, all of it.” Feyre said as you struggled to swallow. 

“Beautiful,” Rhys murmured, his thumb stroking your cheek as he pulled out. You leaned into his touch and let out a small noise of content. 

You yelped as you’re pulled up - again, the air shifting around your body to hit your core. Absolutely soaked, possibly dripping right onto the carpet beneath you. Feyre chuckled, and gave you no warning as two fingers slammed into you - sending your body rocking forward again, crooking up to hit that spot, a thumb also circled your clit and applied the perfect amount of pressure. You let out a litany of curses, moans, and oh gods, gods, gods, followed by their names and a scream the whole river house could hear as she quickly worked you over the edge. 

First, the bind tying your hands and ankles together was released, and two arms were supporting your stomach, keeping you from bearing all of the weight on your body. Slowly, Feyre lowered you to the ground as you slumped against Rhys. The was blindfold torn from your eyes. Not that you could open them anyway, not with the exhaustion quickly setting in. The ropes fell all at once, and Feyre asked questions you could barely answer, squeezing different places to make sure you still the sensations came back, and checking if anything was damaged. After she finished her interrogation, you’re swooped up and taken right to the bathroom, a hot bath already waiting for you. 

[sukirichi]

rude boy

— As the captain of the volleyball team, you have to set a good example of staying firm to your rule of not dating the male players...but perhaps you’re willing to bend the rules a little bit when a rude boy is kind enough to show you why you’re wrong.

CONTENT/WARNINGS. smut, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), hard!dom suna, slight exhibitionism, doggy style, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, cumplay, implied size kink, degradation with praising kink (LOL), soft! aftercare suna

NOTE. oh hell yeah we’re turning into a haikyuu blog. i can’t believe i’m writing for a character i haven’t even met yet but hey SUNA RINTAROU SUPREMACY. I’m in love with him, maybe much more than I like Akaashi, but can you blame? he’s sexy AF. tagging @noritoshiikamo​

SONG INSPOS. Rude Boy, Disturbia, Where Have You Been All My Life (Rihanna)

Win after win, your school is glorious and honourable once more. Not only did the men’s volleyball team, but as the captain of the women’s team, you proudly carried awards just as they did.

You’re on the dance floor, hazily dancing to the beat with your red cup already empty. It’s rare that people organized after parties but you made it Nationals this time around; surely it’s not too bad to let everyone let loose. Besides, the managers weren’t around and everyone seemed to be having fun, bringing in their plus ones or making out with their fellow teammates.

You scowl at the sight. The one thing you hate the most is breaking formalities and relationship autonomies – everyone knows that you have one strict rule: No dating the players for the men’s team.

Naturally, your team members are more than flabbergasted. The male players are gorgeous after all, but you’ve grown up with the Miya twins; you know beauty could never be enough of a reason for your precious teammates to be used for pleasure and dumped to the side once they’ve had their fill. You all have a bright future ahead of you, with goals and dreams to be fulfilled; one that you won’t allow to be trampled upon by these men.

You’re about to head back to the kitchen for another drink when someone holds you in place, large, calloused hands gripping at your hips. You’re about to elbow the intruder when the familiar scent of musky spicy cologne, mixed with sweat and something that was solely him, you relaxed.

“Can’t keep your hands to yourself for the whole party, Suna?”

“You’re here,” his bored, deep voice is sultry as it coos in your ear. Unable to help yourself, you shiver at his touch, your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. “I don’t see a reason to.”

“You’re a little touchy tonight,” you comment, the glare of your eyes softening as the alcohol loosens the usual composed and strict captain in you, falling back into his touches that tell a promise of something more later. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was because you miss him too – whatever it was, you’re grinding onto his front, the middle blocker humming as a warning in your ear not to tease him too much. You being you though, you only push back harder, allowing him to set the pace by squeezing your waist. “You act like you don’t see me all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean I get to feel you all the time,” his voice turns husky, the mere sound of his voice mixing with the party’s music increasing your arousal. You breathe sharply when Suna cups your core experimentally, thankful that his body is big enough to hide what he’s doing. “Upstairs?”

“Here, Suna? In a party?”

“Can you wait until we get home?” he taunts, chuckling when he sees the way your lips press into a thin line. “As I thought.”

Tch, he doesn’t have to be so cocky about it.

Suna leads you upstairs before pushing you inside the closest empty room, his lips hands everywhere on you the moment the back of your knees hit the bed. He’s eager and needy, his arousal evident from how he’s bucking the tent in his pants against your hands. His tongue prods you to open your mouth, and just to tease him, you refuse him access, slipping your hands inside his pants instead to swipe a thumb over his thumb.

He growls at your teasing, retaliating by pinching your boob followed by a flick over your nipple. Suna isn’t only an expert at volleyball; he’s a master of your body too, able to play you and hit the right spots all the fucking time.

He’s aware of this when he finally gets what he wants – a shocked moan from you that nearly makes you fall back on the bed if it wasn’t for his other hand tugging at your wrist to slam you back to his body. Suna doesn’t waste his time in kissing you, sucking on your tongue until you both start fighting for dominance. Just as he’s lost and crazed by the pent up sexual frustration of watching one another play at court today – to see the other so close yet so far away – you swallow his small, little groans into your mouth, your hand eagerly pumping and spreading his pre-cum all over the base of his shaft.

Suna’s cock twitches into your palm, prompting you to squeeze the length at the same time you bite down on his lip. Hard.

His eyes snap open moments before he comes, his touch rough and even bruising when he pushes your arm away from his. As if a switch has been flipped inside him, his eyes have grown darker, his hands running down your form hungry and even animalistic.

Your eyes widen when Suna goes down on his knees, deft fingers tugging at the waistband of your shorts. “S-Suna, what’re you doing—”

“Shh, I want to taste you,” your hands find home in his hair as he helps you shimmy out of those tight, ass-hugging material that had him rock hard during your whole match. He wants to punish you for it, for nearly distracting him when it was his turn to play; the fact you’re always so unaware of the effect you have over him downright offensive. He has other plans in mind though, plans you’re about to discover when Suna suddenly licks at the swollen nub through your panties, making your thighs shiver. “Haven’t seen this pretty pussy in a long time,” he buries his face in your cunt, taking a huge whiff of the intoxicating scent of your arousal.

It’s almost perverted, you think, the way he’s rolling your hardened clit between his teeth, relishing in the way you’re falling apart for him like this, legs spread wide open.

Suna keeps you steady by squeezing your ass closer to his face until his nose is prodding at your lips, the sounds of your pretty moans and whines erotic enough that he feels like busting a nut right then and there. He holds back though, pulling away to breathe just to bite the lace down your legs. The whole time, he keeps his fox-like eyes on yours that are pooled with lust and something carnal, the grazing of his teeth collecting heat to pool at your core.  

With two long fingers pulling your lips apart just for his eyes, he licks at your blossoming sex, pulling groans from both of you when he dives into your even harder.

Suna’s tongue is lapping at your dripping juices while you look down at him, pupils blown wide just as he smirks, he actually fucking smirks under you, his tongue suddenly plunging inside your sopping hole.

Your scream is muffled at the last moment when you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, the nails digging into his scalp making him hiss.

Nevertheless, Suna doesn’t stop, drinking all you can give him while his tongue laps at your walls. The warm, wet muscle exploring each inch of you has you grinding against his face, shameless as you fuck yourself harder on his tongue. Suna chuckles at your actions, the vibrations pushing you over the edge.

He can tell you’re cumming when you start to clamp down on him, the flowing of your arousal easily cleaned up with tight, consistent sweeps of his tongue.

Your eyes are shut tight as you prolong your orgasm by grinding your pelvic bone shamelessly on his cum-stained face. Then your legs wobble until you’re falling, shaking, but Suna pushes you down completely on the bed.

Your breathing is ragged once you see that he’s crawling above you in the same manner a predator stalks his prey, his smirk nothing but devilish while your juices spread on his cheeks gleam under the dim lights.

Suna uses one hand to discard your shirt before throwing it to other side of the room, one knee to pry your legs apart. Your eyes dart down to the sports bra you wore, not sexy at all especially with the Nike logo, and your cheeks warm at the realization. Arms coming up to hide yourself, you fail when Suna slaps your hands away, glaring at you.

“Stop covering yourself. You don’t have to wear lingerie to for me all the time – you know I’d fuck you either way.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to be shy when he rips the bra apart, mouth latched onto one nipple. You gasp when he plunges three fingers in, definitely different to his usual routine of prepping you, and you’re being stretched open by his fingers a little too fast that you’re clutching on his bicep to catch your breath.

“F-Fuck, Suna, can’t even be a little gentle? What happened to foreplay?”

“I’m tired from winning match by match today, baby. Being gentle is the last thing on my mind when you’re splayed out for me like this,” he pulls away just to release his fingers from you, twisting his hand back to back to grin pervertedly at the way your cum slicks his hand. Using that exact same hand, Suna covers his length with it as he hovers over you, pushing the tip of his cock past your lips.

He immediately notices the way you hitch your breath, fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as you struggle to accommodate for him despite already being so wet.

He was just so thick and feels so good – it’s always a challenge not to cum all the while he’s entering you. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve taken me before,” he reminds you, hooking his arm under your knees before he stretches you further, your thighs flat on your chest. You gasp at the new sensation of feeling him so deep inside you, his whole practically atop your calves as he thrusts inside experimentally. “Come on, you’ll take this big cock like a good girl, won’t you?”

“S-Suna.”

“You feel even better than usual,” he praises you, his eyes narrowed and hazy with pleasure as he continues fucking into you. His thrusts are slow yet deep, bottoming out with each time that he knocks the wind off your lungs, successfully hitting that sacred, sweet sensitive spot inside you that only he could ever reach.

Suna smirks at the apparent pleasure written all over your face, teasing you further by grabbing the flesh of your hips while he drives his cock deeper. “You’re just clamping down on me like a bitch in heat,” he notes to mock you, but he wasn’t free of this pleasurable torture as well, not when your walls sucked him in greedily that it took most of his energy just to pull out from your grip. It must be because you’re exerted from today’s match just as he is, and Suna spreads one leg to the side, your knee pressed beside your head. “Muscle cramps? Can’t say I mind.”

“Shut up, Suna.”

“I think you need to shut up,” he stuffs his fingers in your mouth, his chuckles formed in stuttered breaths when you clamp down on him. “Clenching harder on me now? Didn’t peg you for someone who liked this shit,” Suna, having always been perceptive to your smallest reactions, leans over to you to cup your cheek, the tenderness in his eyes a huge contrast to how he’s filling you up to the brim, his hips delirious and delicious with each snap. “You’re just a dirty little whore, aren’t you? So good for me.”

“S-Suna,” you begin to reach for him, feeling that welcomed tightening of your stomach. You never like to admit it out loud, but you and Suna know you’re always so clingy and starved for touches when you’re about to him.

Your lips are puckered out, arms wrapping around his head to pull him in for a kiss when Suna smirks. He knows exactly what you want – and that’s exactly what you’re not gonna get.

He flips you until you’re flat on your stomach, encircling your waist to pull your ass flat against the ticklish hairs resting at the base of his cock, his pelvic bone snapping against your backside. You cry out at the new position, the need to touch him painfully deprived until you’re sobbing on the pillows, wanting nothing more than to kiss him as you came.

Suna Rintaro really is rude.

You came first before him, drool spilling from your lips when you’re left with no other choice but to fist the sheets. Suna’s groans are guttural, his usual pace of fucking you slowly now turns carnal. Sounds of skin slapping and his balls hitting your ass cheeks echo around the room, the sounds too loud that you both fail to hear the rushed footsteps and giggles until the door opens.

Suna feels you tense under him, the crashing waves of your orgasm dulled by the panic rising in your chest. You know he’s covering you, but your heart absolutely lurches in your chest when Suna only continues, scoffing at whoever entered the room.

You scramble to move yourself off him but Suna only holds you down, his palm flat behind your head, arms pinned at the small of your back until you’re completely incapacitated. Once again, Suna’s proved that he’s a man of control, especially when it comes to your body. He won’t fail to remind you again and again that your body is not yours – it has always been his and will always be his.

Once he starts moving again, deliberately and painfully slow to emphasize the embarrassing shlick coming from your pussy, Suna smirks at the new guests. “Rooms taken, idiot – find someplace else.”

“Fuck, is that the captain for the girl’s team?”

You bite down on your lip upon hearing Atsumu’s voice, desperate to prevent the sinful moans to be heard past your lips. You’ve built quite a reputation for being sharp tongued and even wicked when it comes to being strict – to have him hear of all people that his teammate could easily break you like this would be beyond damaging both to your pride and reputation.

Suna glares at the golden-haired boy who’s now forgotten the girl hanging off his arm, his head tilting past Suna’s uniformed frame fucking deep into you.

He could hear it, could hear the sloppy squelching of your sopping cunt, could even hear the way Suna’s breath sharpens, but he wants to see it, to witness this atrocity. Suna, however, wasn’t having any of it.

His possessive grip is intensified with the nails digging into your wrists when he only fucks into your harder, his feet now planted on the mattress as if to mark his territory. “Don’t look at my bitch. She’s mine,” he growled, pulling you by the hair until your head is splayed all over his shoulder, your breasts bouncing from the speed he’s ramming into you at. “Now leave.”

“Suna, don’t be fucking rude.”

The door closes afterwards, but not free from comments from Atsumu on how you had a pretty ass. This ticks Suna off, licking stripe down your neck and up your jaw, nose buried into the crook of your neck to memorize your scent coated with sex hanging off the air.

“You’d rather have them watch?” he slaps your ass, your moan whiny and pornographic – you were really truly different than what you want people to think of you. “Of course you’d like that, filthy slut,” he nibbles at your ear, reaching forward to rub at your clit until you’re shaking again, your second orgasm just looming around the corner. “But I don’t want to share you, baby. Now fuck yourself on my cock like the whore you are.”

He shoves you flat on the mattress again, your forearms weak as you heave your weight upwards. Your head is thrown to the side, back arched down low as you follow his command like a good whore as he’s called you. You gyrate your hips to swirl your pussy around his thick pole, pushing backwards again and again until you’re gasping, shaking, trembling and utterly fucked out.

Your pace is nothing compared to what Suna is capable off, but he’s tense, jealous even that he wants to assure himself he’s the one who could get you to feel this way, even if it meant giving you all the work alone.

“What’re you gonna do now that everyone knows about us?” he asks through gritted teeth, placing his hands at your hips just to steady yourself. Suna’s eyes are zeroed in on the way his length disappears around your pretty lips, so open and puffy as you use his dick to pleasure you. He takes pride at the way you moan, back arching and little growls on your lips when he finally snaps his hips, meeting you thrust by thrust.

“Are you finally giving into me?” he asks again for what seems like the hundredth time ever since he’s laid his eyes on you, thumb flicking over your clit again. You cry out as he does so, uncaring of the strain when your arms reach out behind him, touching him this time around. Suna allows you to do so, hugging your waist to pull you into him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to yours while you moan left and right.

You’re sweating, eyes shut tight and fingers calloused from years of playing volleyball pinching at your own slips. You look so lewd every time you’re thinking of nothing else but the pleasure he’s giving you and Suna grows harder inside you, his thrusts rough along with another slap to your ass.  

“Fuck, yeah, just like that. You look so gorgeous bent over for me, you know, might as well just be officially mine.”

You manage to scoff through the pleasure, ignoring the way your heart flutters when Suna interlaces his fingers with yours above your breast, the both of you caressing the flesh tenderly. “I told you already, I’m never dating you.”

“And why not?” he challenges, the grip on your hips tightening again. “Who do you run to when you’re sad? Who do you bother when you’re happy? Who makes you feel good and fills you to the brim when your fingers just aren’t getting you off?” Unsatisfied with your silence, Suna snaps his hips harder, his grin wicked when you scream again, his name falling off your lips like a prayer – which is ironic, since he’s the one always worshipping you despite his need to be in control. “Isn’t it always me? Just say yes, baby, I’d get to do this to you all the time. You’re already fucking yourself on my cock like you’re my whore – what’s holding you back?”

“You’ll fuck me good if I say yes?”

“Aren’t I already?” To prove a point, Suna thrusts up deep and hard enough that he’s hitting your sweet spot again, a fucked out smile rewarding him afterward.

“But you’re a rude, rude person, Suna, oh, fuck,” Suna pinches your clit that makes you snap your eyes open, a seductive glare sent his way when he teases you. “See what I’m – ugh – talking about?”

“Then I’ll be nice for once,” he promises me, his thrusts growing sloppy as he pushes you over the edge. Your mouth hangs open in a silent, breathy sob – hands gripping at his thighs when the mere slipping of his length past your walls and kissing your cervix with each thrust pushes tears out of your eyes. Suna leans down to sloppily kiss away the tears, jaw clenched as he feels you tighten around him.  “Cum for me. I’m allowing you to cum. Maybe I’ll fuck you again when we get home if you’re good enough. Fuck, gonna breed this pussy so good, you’ll be so fucking full.”

Your nails scratches blood moons into his skin, right at the spot that isn’t covered by his shorts anymore. Usually, he’s careful when it comes to markings that could affect his play, but you’re so pretty crying as you cream around his neck that tonight he doesn’t care.

Suna groans as you milk him dry with the way your walls are hallowing and clenching around him, making the tall player fall forward above you on the bed, his cum sputtering inside of you. His groans are deep and so fucking sexy right next to your ear, thumb absentmindedly still rubbing at your clit. You’re both panting as he slowly pulls out, the gush of both your cum dripping all the way down your ass. He snickers at the sight and swoops two fingers down, the heated and hard press of his fingers against your sensitive pussy sending chills everywhere in your body.

You’re about to complain as Suna pushes his cum inside you, but he silences you with a kiss, spreading the cum all around your lips until you’re a complete, sticky mess down there. You grimace at the sensation but Suna is moving beside you the next moment, his arms heavy across your breasts.

You blink when Suna presses affectionate kisses on the blades of your shoulder, wiping the remnants of cum across the sheets before tangling your legs with his. You frown in confusion but turn to him anyway, breathing in that cologne sticking to his skin that you love so much.

“I’m not used to you cuddling me.”

Suna smiles at the crown of your head, shifting lower so he could squish his cheeks at the flesh of your breasts. You watch as his usual bored face lights up happily like a kid with ice cream as he kisses the sides of your breast, hands gentle and delicate in making swirls over your hip. He’s almost...unrecognizable. “You should. This is going to be one of the privileges of dating me.”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

“You will.”

His declaration is so self assured – as he always is – that you roll your eyes, threading your fingers through his sweat-matted hair. “How are you so sure I even like you back, dummy?”

“Because you’ve got no reason not to,” is all he murmurs on your skin, and well...he isn’t wrong about it, but you scoff anyway, thankful that his eyes are closed so he can’t see your smile. “Now shut up. Just hearing your voice makes me hard again and I don’t think I can go for another round. I’m beat.”

Perhaps...Suna Rintaro wasn’t such a rude boy, after all.

[xlbrh]

Genshin Impact - Small things they do to show their love

notes : so i’ve been trying to think of an idea for a long story to write for one of the characters, but i’ve been having a little bit of trouble :( if anyone has any suggestions i’d love to hear them! hopefully i’ll be able to come out with an introduction or something soon 

in the meantime i wrote this up, so i hope that you guys enjoy!

Genshin Masterlist

warnings : none

format : bulleted, headcanons. fluff

pairings : diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli, xiao, albedo, aether x gn! reader

word count : 1426

everything under the cut-

Diluc:

during your nightly walks around mondstadt, he notices how chills can rack your body, especially when the wind blows

he’ll remove his jacket and drape it around your form, no matter how much you may protest

sometimes his arms will circle around your waist, drawing you towards him in an effort toto keep you warm until you get home

if you’ve been out adventuring close to the dawn winery, he’d invite you to the manor to share a meal or drink, whichever you’d like

whatever you desire, he’ll see to it that you receive it – most of the time he wouldn’t even ask you due to how well he can read you and your actions

when you try to refuse his offers, he’ll tell you ‘just let me look after you, my love’  

when you come to visit him in the angel’s share, he always has a seat ready just for you

he’ll keep a blanket and some books under the bar, since he knows how you like to curl up in the corner, engrossed in your reading

if you’d like he’ll come and sit with you for a short while, bringing a drink of your choice over while you tell each other about your day

Kaeya:

kaeya is the kind of man to call you every pet name under the sun

whether it be sweetheart, darling, love etc. he loves to use these types of names for you frequently, as a form of affection

he loves your reactions to them, especially when your cheeks flare up and you turn away out of shyness – he finds it extremely endearing

he would offer to train you in swordsmanship, regardless of whether you can already wield a sword or not

he likes to not only see your strength grow, but also offer you a way to protect yourself since he cannot be with you at all times

kaeya takes pride in the training sessions you have, after all they give him another reason to spend even more time with you

he loves for you guys to have matching things, no matter how small they may be 

for example, he’ll buy you a bracelet to wear, one that matches with one on his own wrist as well

jokingly he once bought you an eyepatch to match his, but he finds it sweet but hilarious when you���ll wear it around him sometimes

Childe:

since this man is a literal walking wallet, he has no problem with spoiling you with gifts

whether that be a necklace you’ve had your eye on, a new shirt because you ripped yours in battle, or a book he knows is the next in the series you enjoy

when asking him why he leaves you so many small gifts, his response is just ‘well, because i love you, of course!’

if you ever get hurt during a battle, he’ll be the first to help you

whether that be taking down the enemies if you haven’t already, or tending to the wounds you’ve received

he’d work with utmost caution, wrapping each wound gently and finishing them off with a kiss on top

when strolling the streets of liyue together, childe ensures that your body is connected to his one way or another at all times

whether that be intertwining your hands together, an arm loosely wrapped around your waist, or stopping to give you a brief peck on the forehead

he has no qualms in showing the public that you’re his – something he makes you well aware of

Zhongli:

he knows you love when he tells you stories of his past and the history of liyue, and he enjoys telling you about them

he finds the childlike wonder in your eyes adorable as he tells you tales of adepti and archons alike

zhongli will try his best to make them as entertaining as possible for you – drawing you in with every word he uttered

he likes to play with your hair, and for you to do the same to him

if you have longer hair you can guarantee he’d be braiding and styling your hair in all different ways, adorning it with hairpins he’d purchase for you

if your hair is on the shorter side then he’d love to run his fingers through, stroking your hair and massaging your scalp until you fall asleep with your head against his chest

if there is anything in particular that you take a big interest in, zhongli will try his best to research around it – even though he probably has the knowledge anyways

he wants to be able to talk to you about things you’re interested in, as well as share in the enjoyment that you get from it

he would leave small notes to you when he can’t always be around you, sometimes with small facts he learned of

Xiao:

he would for sure watch over you if you ever go on a long adventure, no matter what other duties he may have to attend to

expect to see a good few hilichurl and treasure hoarder camps abandoned thanks to his interference

‘anything to ensure your safety’, he thinks

some nights, when his duties have been fulfilled early, he’ll try his hand at preparing a meal for you to share

of course nothing especially fancy! After all he doesn’t have to eat himself – its all for your enjoyment

if he struggles he’d probably reach out to verr goldet some help

just imagine him setting a small picnic up on the wangshu inn rooftop iM WEAK

once xiao finally becomes accustomed to physical contact, he’d make an effort to hold your hand a lot more often

lightly squeezing it or tracing shapes with his thumb every now and again

if you’re lucky he way even take his gloves off – just to feel that warmth from his hand can be very comforting indeed

Albedo:

you’re literally the only person he will listen to when he is engrossed in his experiments

as we know he tends to block out the rest of the world when he is deep in though

but as soon as he hears your voice of concern asking if he’ll take a break to eat, you wanna bet he’ll be leaving his office in an instant to join you for lunch

he does the exact same for you when you’re hard at work, so he appreciates the way you always look after him

when out looking for more specimens to analyse, he stumbles across his fair share of flowers

of course he knows which are your favourites – he knows everything about you, after all – so he’ll be sure to pick some to bring home to you

when giving them to you, he mentions ‘well, they reminded me of you, so i thought you’d like them’

if you ever get ill for some reason, albedo becomes your personal doctor

he’ll spend hours preparing serums and medicines for you to alleviate your pain – but will never let you out of his sight while doing so

he’ll ask noelle if she can fix up some food for you in the meantime, since at every free opportunity he’s sat at your bedside, hand in yours as he whispers words of comfort to you

Aether:

aether is always ready to make you something to eat whenever you’d like!

he for sure has a small section of his brain dedicated to learning of recipes that he knows you enjoy, no matter how simple or complicated they may be

will make sure that you always have some lunch ready to take with you wherever you go, even if it means he had to wake up early and travel halfway across teyvat to bring it to you

he will bring you back numerous treasures from his travels

sometimes he’ll ask the locals in whichever area he’s in if they can craft the raw materials into something that you can treasure

there would be a shelf in your room specifically for aether’s gifts, where he’ll occasionally point to each one and tell you the story of how it made it’s way back to you

he makes sure to let you know how grateful he is to have you by his side

every time you do something for him, no matter how small it may be, he’ll thank you and let you know how much you mean to him

when on his travels he makes sure to write letters and send them home to you – just because he’s far away doesn’t mean he’s not still thinking about you

[nctsworld]

gifts galore

✩‌ jaehyun ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ ‌smut‌ ‌|‌ fluff | ‌2.3k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you and jaehyun agree to not exchange any gifts this christmas, yet both of you break your agreement for the better. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut,‌ costume/roleplaying (sexy mrs. claus outfit), playful dirty talk, unprotected s*x, f*ngering, couch s*x, mentions of alcohol/drinking, established relationship    ‌ ‌ RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature

⇾‌ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Snuggling underneath a blanket on the couch by the crackling fireplace, you and Jaehyun are casually watching a Christmas movie in your new apartment. His hand listlessly switches between playing with your hair and lovingly rubbing your shoulder.

You beam happily, absolutely content about your updated living situation and being with your one and only on Christmas Eve, and soon to be Christmas in half an hour or so.  

Breaking apart from his arms momentarily, you sit up to reach the coffee table. You refill your empty glass with wine. Noticing the one beside it is empty too, you pour a splash in, assuming the owner will want some more.

“Thanks, babe,” Jaehyun coos, his fingers brushing over the bottom of your back.

You’ve known each other long enough to know what the other wants without exchanging a word. Needless to say, you and Jaehyun were a perfect fit on every level. You couldn’t ask for anything more from him.  

Taking a sip, you gaze over at the little Christmas tree set up in the corner of the room and pout at the sight of the empty space surrounding it.

Because you two spent so much on the new place, money was tighter than usual, so you mutually agreed to not exchange any gifts this year. It hurt you so much since you loved seeing Jaehyun’s face light up brighter than Christmas lights when he unwrapped his presents. 

Despite the agreement, you may have had one small gift hidden up your sleeve.

You check your phone for the time. 11:48 PM reflects back at you. With a sly nibble of your lip, you rest your drink back onto the table and snuggle once more with your beloved for another several minutes.

At the stroke of midnight (which you know from constantly checking your phone), you glance upwards.

“Merry Christmas, Jaehyun,” you whisper softly. His rosy cheeks rise and his dimples show; the smile he gives you meets his starry eyes.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

He cranes his neck to capture your lips, delving into a sweet embrace. Your hand lays on his firm chest while he rests his palm atop your cheek. Parting the kiss, you’re both forehead to forehead, sharing this moment amidst the warm atmosphere. However, without a word, you depart from his body and bolt towards the bedroom. Jaehyun’s left on the couch with ruffled eyebrows.

As he opens his mouth to say something, you call out from the bedroom. “I know we said no gifts this year, but I sorta maybe have a teeny, tiny gift this year...”

He chides you with a holler of your name. “I thought we both agreed—”

“You know I can’t help myself, okay? And anyway—”

Jaehyun’s jaw immediately drops.

You’re leaning on the doorframe with your hand stretched on the wood beside your head, donning a fitting, strapless red dress with white fleece trimming at the top and bottom, which barely covers your uncovered goods, and a Santa hat as the cherry on top.

“I thought you’d like this,” you shrug, feigning innocence. Looking off to one side, you twirl some hair around your finger. “It was cheap, so it’s not like a big gift—”

Suddenly, Jaehyun’s lips cut you off. His body presses up against yours, barring you between the doorframe and himself. A hand snakes up your thigh and, with a little help from the lack of fabric, his hand quickly grasps your bare ass. 

His kisses are eager and hungry, and when he desires more of you, he captures your neck. Your eyelids tremble, head leaning back on the doorframe.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything, you know,” Jaehyun mumbles into your skin. He’s now moved onto your exposed shoulders, but never forgetting to squeeze your ass throughout. “Not that I’m complaining...”

“Do you like it?” you moan aloud as Jaehyun leaves chaste kisses across the top of your chest. You already foresee the answer from his reactions, but you yearn to hear it explicitly. He brings his face up to you once more.

“Of course.” And his lips find a home upon yours again. The pressure against your hips strengthens and you’re certain he’s about to reward you with an emerging present of his own.

“Now, Mrs. Claus...” he says in between kisses. Light giggles let loose from you.

“Have I been on the naughty or nice list this year?” You inhale his question with his forehead against yours.

“Definitely naughty.”

He cocks his head to the side and his fingers dance away from your ass towards the front of your thighs.

“How can I prove to you that I’ve been a good boy?”

Said fingers are now being dragged along your thigh, upward to your arousal. Your breaths become shallower, thoughts melting fast from his touch, but you hone your focus, wanting to make this a proper gift for Jaehyun.

“I can think of a few ways…”    

Hurriedly, you take his wrist and lead him back to the couch. You playfully push him by the chest to sit down. Your seated love feasts his eyes on you taking your time to straddle him.  

For the longest time, your lips intertwine deeply, as if your lips are soldered together. Hands flounder over every part of your body, only intensifying the craving for you both. Exhausted from kissing, Jaehyun draws back and strips off his shirt with ease, perspired from both the passion and the fireplace.

Rising yourself off his thighs to devour his neck, your burning desire hangs overhead his own. Taking the opportunity, he slides a digit over it and you sigh into his touch. 

“I don’t think Mr. Claus would appreciate you touching what’s his,” you tease, nibbling on his ear lobe with your hands resting on his chest.

“You’re mine, and you know it,” he growls half-seriously. Without warning, Jaehyun swiftly releases his touch to grip onto your ass and waist, then lays you on your backside onto the couch. He hovers over you with fierce eyes and directly sticks two fingers into you.  

Your hat drops over the arm rest and onto the floor as your back arches from the immediate delight. Ardently, Jaehyun’s free hand pulls down the top half of your dress and your tits are pleased by his heavenly mouth.

“Am I a good boy yet?” he asks on the way towards your other breast, hot breath searing your supple skin.  

“F-fuck,” You shake your head, desperate for more. “Not quite, ah—”

Responding to your words, Jaehyun’s wrist fires up. The muscles in his arm flex greatly alongside the acceleration of his thrusting digits, and yet, he’s still maintaining the puckering around your acute nub. The excitement builds in your chest and delicate moans develop into harsh groans.    

“Babe, babe,” you call out, pausing the roleplay talk. Your fingers are falling weak within his hair and upon his arm, losing strength by the second. “I don’t want to come just yet. This is all for you, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

With one last inhale of your chest, he then hangs his head overs yours. 

“Seeing you in pleasure is a gift in itself, honey,” Jaehyun states gently.  

Behind your half-lidded eyes, you notice Jaehyun’s fixed stare, not deterring eye contact with you whatsoever. Despite the lust, your love plants a kiss atop of your forehead.

“Now, come for me and I’ll show you how good I can be to you.”

Embracing his relieving reassurance, you relax into his touch and unwind over his full fingers. After you’re fulfilled, Jaehyun tastes your slick off his fingers with a wink prior to the undressing of his pants.

Finally bare, your sight wavers between his beautiful figure and his equally beautiful cock as he lines up with your entrance. When his possession disappears entirely, engulfing within your desire, you simultaneously moan at the initial gratification.

Your beloved’s grip is safe around your waist, feeling the downy fabric of the dress still scrunched around your body. 

Jaehyun drinks in everything—your face drenched in delectation, the constant bouncing of your bosoms happening in tandem with his deep plunges, his name spilling sweetly from your pretty lips, and the raw pleasure of it all.

He braces a hand onto the arm rest next to your head. Looking up at him, you bring your hands that were gripping tightly onto the couch towards his cheeks, cupping them. 

“I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he utters. His spare hand moves towards your sprawled upper arm, rubbing the tender muscles. You nod, whimpering in agreement.

“Are you all mine?” you moan unevenly, intoxicated by the passion.

Jaehyun nods too with hazy eyes, running fingers through his mussy hair to view you clearly.

“Of course, of course...”

The kiss you share is overpowering, as if he was kissing you upon every inch of your body all at once. Flares flood over your body, but they’re not stopping anytime soon. 

Following more fondling of one another’s bodies and the never ending orgasms he consistently draws out of you, Jaehyun can only last so much and eventually stirs, his pleasure reaching the brim and pouring onto your inner thigh.

Like clockwork, Jaehyun is quick to clean-up you and himself, and the two of you lay on the couch with him spooning your backside. You both agree to no blanket since each of you are sweltering because of the fireplace, in addition to what you just endured.

“If you think you’re going on the nice list after that, you’re wrong,” you pant, glancing over your shoulder slyly. “That was naughty from head to toe.”

Jaehyun pecks the back of your head, stuffing his nose in your hair. 

“Coal is worth the price of having you.”

He hugs you tightly and you burst into a flutter of giggles as he kisses the crook of your neck.

Morning comes and you’re surprised to not find Jaehyun in bed with you, especially after the tiring events from last night. In your pajamas, you tread towards the living room and see him in his knitted black sweater by the kitchen counter on his phone. He glimpses up, grinning ear to ear, and places his phone down.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he greets, walking to you.  

“Jae, why are you up so ea—”

Your gaze falls upon the Christmas tree in the corner and you notice a gift box as tall as a book. Puzzled, you make your way over.

“To get back at you for your gift last night,” he says next to you beside the tree and watches your next moves carefully. “I got you a little something too.” 

You laugh as you unravel the large bow, thinking it’s likely a joke gift he often does or, on the other hand, maybe more lingerie since he loved the way it looked on (and off) you.

However, your breathing stills and your entirety stiffens.

A tiny velvet box is inside, with a folded piece of paper leaning against it.

One of your hands darts to your mouth, covering it. Shaking slightly, you peer up at Jaehyun.

He nods softly, urging you to continue.

You read the letter addressed to you quietly to yourself: 

“Can you believe this is the fifth Christmas we’re spending together? Time flies by so fast, and this is our first Christmas in our own place. Hopefully the first of many!

I’m always grateful to spend the holidays with you and I couldn’t imagine anyone else to spend it with. I know it’s cliché, but I mean it when I say you mean the world to me. I can’t ask for a better gift than being with you.  

On the topic of gifts, I know you might be disappointed that we agreed on no presents this year, but please don’t hate me for going against my word (if you want, you can gift me something from Boxing Day and we’ll call it even).

I’ve been waiting to give you this gift for a really long time... 

I hope you like it.

Merry Christmas, my dearest.

Love,

Jaehyun ♡”

As you lift your head, tears blur your vision and you can’t stop them from falling. You try your best to muster up the biggest smile and squeak a simple, “Yes!”

The love of your life chuckles tenderly, caressing your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs swipe away the oncoming waterworks. “Honey, you didn’t even open the box yet.”

“I don’t need to. I have x-ray vision,” you joke. “My answer is yes.”

“You sure?” he asks. Even with the fog in your eyes, you see a sliver of worry and rejection flash by on Jaehyun’s face. You’re nodding fervently, not wanting him to doubt your love for even a second.  

His expression fades and he gently grabs the letter and box out of your hands. Getting onto one knee, Jaehyun opens the velvet box, revealing the not-so surprising sparkling ring. He holds your hand in his and slowly places the ring on your left finger.

It’s a perfect fit. 

Jaehyun stands up, still cherishing your hand in his. You’re enraptured by the light hitting the gemstone, twinkling back at you like a familiar smile.  

“Guess we’re even now?”

Sniffling, you shake your head at Jaehyun before you wipe the tears away with the back of your hand. “I’m definitely getting you a proper gift tomorrow.”

Neither of you are aware of it and will find out later that day, but snow begins to fall outside at about the exact moment you lock eyes.

You take a deep breath, trying your best to sound as normal as you can, as if you weren’t just bawling your eyes out.

“I love you, Jaehyun.”

Your love moves some of the stray strands of hair out of your face and whispers:

“And I love you.”

The next kiss is ardent and heartfelt. A kiss you’ve shared with Jaehyun many times before, but it’s a little different than the rest.

It’s a kiss that signals the new beginnings for you and Jaehyun. 

[genshin-utopia]

xiao | memories

note | thank you for the 1000+ followers. I don't deserve it with the lack of updates and motivation. Half a year and I finally decided to write again. This is similar to the "Moments with you" headcanons I do. I hope you like this new series I will be starting with each/most/some characters. Also big thank you to @arthurhastingpoems for betaing! This was suppose to end with smut but lol what happened.

Tags: Established relationship, extremely corny/cheesy lol, hurt/comfort, a tiny bit of violence, fluff, bittersweet if you squint

You never expected to fall deep in love with the man beside you, who’s seldom rough and cold. But also, so soft towards you, as if you were something precious to him. A collection of stories shared between the two of you.

i.

It was rather unexpected when you first discovered you had a peculiar interest in Xiao’s arms or more specifically, his strength. You love how easy it was for Xiao to pick you up, as if you weighed nothing – that raw power that’s contained within. The first time you consciously discovered this fact was when you were playfully wrestling him due to playful banter.

You were both on the sofa, a soft comforter that left you unintentionally drowsy as you sink deeper into a comfortable state. On the other hand, Xiao was seated upright on the other end with a book in his hands. These were rare peaceful days that you both couldn’t afford frequently as duties kept you two occupied and most importantly, separated. As sleep started to overtake your senses, you started poking him lightly with your feet to draw his attention.

The slight twitch in response did not go unnoticed, however his gaze continued to be fixated on the literature in front of him. You, of course, did not mind as much but continued your ministrations to escape your drowsy state.

As time went by, you rose from your laying position and snuggled closer to him, laying your head softly onto his shoulders. You peered over curiously at the pages in front of you. Almost immediately, the words, “Rex Lapis,” neatly printed on the paper caught your eyes. Slightly irked at the fact that Xiao was paying more attention to Zhongli even in this situation, you started slowly tracing his arms with your fingers.

“Stop,” he commanded softly, not sparing a glance at your direction.

You ignored his words, your hands trailing further down to his chest before swiping the book from his hands quickly.

Chuckling to yourself in triumph, you edge yourself towards the other end of the couch, away from him.  However, you can’t escape from Xiao. Within seconds, your back is on the sofa with him hovering above you.

Not wanting to admit defeat, you attempted to stretch your arm, with the book in your hands, up to where Xiao couldn’t reach. That attempt was proven to be futile as his body presses you down with his larger one, ceasing all movement. You continued to squirm away from his grip until suddenly Xiao traps both your wrists above your head with one hand, the book slipping away in the process.

Xiao’s free arm cages your head, not allowing you to look away. He slowly lowers himself to your ear, whispering, “Where are you going?”

Hues of pink flushed your cheeks at his husky voice that was so close to you. Suddenly realizing the precarious position you were in, you shifted your eyes away from his gaze and onto his arms. Despite the initial embarrassment, you loved how he cages you with his arms. Ironically, you felt protected and safe.

Not liking that your gaze was averting from his, he gently lifts your chin with his free fingers, “Look at me.”

You quickly followed his command only to meet his darkening gaze. Hypnotized by his eyes, you squirmed once more but this time to get closer to the source of heat above you. “X-xiao, kiss me.”

He obliged quickly, closing the gap between you and swallowing your whimper. His tongue delves between your lips, unhurried and tender. Xiao has one hand up your shirt, stroking the soft skin of your chest as he steals your oxygen. The slow and soft touches were torturous, you started bucking your hips up impatiently. However, before you can get the friction you so desire, he anchors himself up slightly. His arms are still caging your body, but this time he leaves a small space between the both of you. A small smirk etches onto his face as he looks at your needy expression, wanting more of his touch.

You love his strength and his arms caging you.

But he loves your docile self as a result.

ii.

Xiao is very much like the element he holds.

Like the storm, the wind can be very turbulent.

Yet it can also be soft, gently caressing your cheeks as you walk.

He also has a quirk of disappearing and appearing before your eyes randomly.

Much like right now.

You are currently taking a break on the hilltop after a long commission you just finished. Your back rests on the trunk of the tree perched on top of the hill. Its leaves serve as an umbrella, shielding you from the sun's harsh rays. You close your eyes as the gentle breeze wafts through the air, enjoying a peaceful and tranquil time to yourself.

It has been several days since you’ve last seen Xiao as the both of you are quite busy, especially the latter.

At times like these where you are unoccupied with only your own thoughts accompanying you, you find yourself missing Xiao the most.

You close your eyes, his silhouette forming inside your mind as you start to reminiscence the times you’ve shared with each other.

“Xiao...” You whispered unconsciously.

For the next few seconds, only the leaves soft rustling could be heard.

Just then you sensed a presence in front of you. Your instincts kicked in and you hurriedly open your eyes and unsheathed your weapon.

However, it wasn’t a lone hilichurl in front of you like you expected, but the person you longed for the most.

You quickly sheathed back your sword and stood on your feet, a bright smile adorning your face at the sight of Xiao appearing before you. You ran to his awaiting arms, wrapping your arms around him, and leaning your head on his broad chest. He reciprocated the hug, enclosing your body with his arms. It felt like time halted for the both of you, like nothing existed except you two.

You were snapped out of your trance when you felt a slight weight behind your ears. Curiously, you withdrew from his loving arms and directed your attention to his hands.

“Crystalflies for you,” he stated as his right hand were filled with numerous crystalflies, “I caught more than I intended. I hope you don’t mind.”

Happiness surged through your body; your previous loneliness long forgotten as you took the batch of crystalflies from his hands gratefully.

A small smile carved its way to his face, his gaze softening at your ecstatic self. He combed your hair softly with his right hand, “As I thought you look very nice.”

He leaves a quick kiss to your forehead before disintegrating with the wind.

“If you wish to seek me, call out my name.”

iii.

The sharp arrow plunges into your stomach, halting your movements and loosening your grip on your sword. You felt as if your insides were ripped to shreds by a mere arrow due to your carelessness. You were fulfilling a commission which entails you emptying a hilichurl camp. What was thought to be a simple task became a nightmare as you let your guard down when reinforcements came unexpectedly. You scoffed to yourself at your idiocy for ever letting your guard down in a fight.

A sense of dread overcame your senses, your vision blurring momentarily, and you lose footing for a split second.

Flashes of images depicting your moments with Xiao crossed your mind.

You wonder how he was doing at the moment. Probably also fighting demons like he always did.

You wished to see him right now.

With that thought in mind, you gripped your sword firmly with more determination.

A blue magic circle formulates beneath your feet as you send ice shards at the hilichurl sharpshooters hidden within the trees. You ignore the sharp pain of your stomach at your sudden movement, and instead you diverted your attention at the several Mitachurls with axes surrounding you.

“Come at me you assholes.”

The area immediately became colder as shards of ice flew everywhere. Your stamina is decreasing at an alarming rate as you quickly cleared the area with your sword and magic.

You shoved your sword into the last mitachurl when you heard a distant horn in the distance, signifying to you that there were more to come.

You could no longer ignore the pain of your new wounds all over your body and kneeled slightly while clutching at your stomach.

Were you going to die?

No, you couldn’t.

Just then when all hope was lost, the clear blue sky darkens into a gray hue as the wind around you started to pick up ominously.

Could it be?

“Block it."

Reflexively, at the sound of a very familiar voice, you immediately surround yourself with thick shards of ice and braced yourself.

A turbulent force plunged down from the sky, the surrounding area immediately getting hit by explosive wind, rendering all enemies powerless and dead within seconds. The shards of ice protecting you cracked, before crumbling away. You peered up and met the eyes of Xiao, his normally impassive face deforming into one of pure anger.

“Why?” He gritted out, “Why didn’t you call for me?”

“Because I’m strong,” you managed to mutter out. As if to prove your point, you staggered to get on your feet to demonstrate you didn’t need his help despite the pain consuming your senses.

“No, you humans are weak,” he stated harshly, voice icy cold.

You shook your head, ready to retort. However, whether it was the relief of seeing Xiao again or the fact that you survived the whole ordeal, you couldn’t fight the pain of your wounds. You braced yourself for a harsh drop, but instead something soft embraced you.

You couldn’t figure out what it was before you faded into a deep slumber.

iv.

Drifting in and out of consciousness resulted in your inability to depict what was real and what was fake.

Your wounds from that day were proximately fatal and you spent the majority of the day and nights recuperating.

You would dream of getting impaled by several arrows.

Sometimes you would dream of horrific images of ways you could’ve died that day, like you are right now.

However, before the nightmare could get any further, a green butterfly would always spreads its wings, painting the canvas with new colors instead of the dreadful gray and red images.

The nightmare would disintegrate slowly into shards that would evanesce into a better scenario.

You would open your eyes only to be greeted with golden orbs who covered your vision, “Hurry and go back to sleep.”

Those nights you would dream of a green butterfly accompanying you and circumventing you with warmth.

V.

You have come to a startling conclusion that Xiao was ignoring you for weeks.

Xiao often wanders and if he wasn’t at home or wouldn’t appear out of thin air at your call, you couldn’t pinpoint where he is.

Rummaging through your head, you couldn’t come up with a decisive moment where it led to this.

Clutching onto your soft blanket, you pulled it closer to you for warmth. The spot on the bed adjacent to you felt even more emptier than before.

For weeks you endeavored to dissuade yourself from coming up with the revelation that he doesn’t want to see you. You continued your everyday obligations, diverting yourself with dispiriting thoughts that plagued your mind. Unfortunately, you were at your breaking point, the rain pitter-pattered against your windows made the atmosphere even more dejecting.

Tears formulated at the corner of your eyes and leaks reluctantly down your cheeks.

“Xiao,” you called out softly.

Just then, familiar hands caress your cheeks, wiping away the tears that eluded, “Why are you crying?”

The person you wanted to see the most was now in front of you yet simultaneously was the last person you wanted.

You chuckled monotonously, “Is this a dream?”

Xiao shook his head slightly, hands never once leaving your cheeks. Slight anger submerged within you at his nonchalant attitude as you push his hands away from you. “Why are you here?”

Silence emerged with only the sounds of the rain reverberating around the room. No one moved an inch. You were still sitting up on your bed, clutching onto the white blanket whereas Xiao was standing next to the bedside unnervingly.

You half anticipate him to disintegrate into thin air once more, but what you didn’t expect was him to sit next to you on the bed. He grasps your hands with his, holding it carefully as if you were a porcelain doll ready to shatter at any given moment.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Thousands of rebuttals were ready to be hurled at him, but you waited patiently instead for him to continue. After weeks, you were finally getting some answers.

“One day I might be contaminated with evil itself. These hands...” He trailed off, hands withdrawing from yours.

Your eyes trails from his hands to his face. The moonlight reflecting through the window, illuminates his beautiful face. Now that you gotten a closer look, you realize that he looks tired, worn down from years of torment.

The anger subsided, leaving nothing but love for the man in front of you.

You reach out for his face, lifting him out of his thoughts. Your eyes never left his, hoping to convey your adoration towards the man. You reach out for his rough hands littered with callouses that developed over the years.

You bring his hands to your cheeks, resting on them before leaving a soft kiss onto one of them. “These hands have brought so much happiness. The crystalflies you gathered that day, the soft hands that would comfort me during a nightmare...You’ve done so much.” You crawled onto his lap, resting your forehead on his, hands never once leaving his.

“No matter what, I want to be with you.” With that you closed the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips onto his. Compacted In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, thousands of loving thoughts condensed into this kiss. Your heartbeats resonated in each other’s ears, and you could only focus on how soft he felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all your senses. You continue to place soft kisses to convey how much you love him, before slowly, detaching yourself from his embrace and resting your forehead against his, “Even if my time is short...”

The two of you remain in the comfort of each other's arms, with only the wind reverberating against the window in this long night. Instead of an everlasting adepti and an ordinary human, it was just Xiao and you, hearts connected. The sand in the hourglass can’t be stopped until it reaches its end, but for now you will enjoy the flow with the person you love most.

[uraharashopslut]

"Daddy" - Byakuya Kuchiki smut

18+

Prompt: Byakuya overhears a squad member refer to him as daddy.

-

His feet padded softly through the grass. Squad members chatted with one another all around him, but his eyes remained on the horizon. Until he saw her. She was standing in the corner of the Squad Six garden with her friend Tamiko Nakamura, dark hair swaying in the breeze in long tendrils behind her. The corners of her mouth pulled up into a smile as she laughed.

His heart fluttered softly, frustratingly. Since Hisana's passing, his heart stirred for no one, and he'd concluded it would never stir again. That was, until she joined his squad. She'd risen quickly through the ranks, now holding the Third seat. Her effortless strength caught his attention, and her air of dignity kept it. There was an elegance in the way she carried herself.

"She was destined to be a noble," Byakuya thought to himself as his path neared her presence.

"You could help fulfil her destiny," Senbonzakura whispered in his head.

He shook his head at the thought. He'd pressured the Kuchiki clan enough by marrying a commoner, something he'd sworn to never do again, but who said anything about marriage?

He shifted his focus to the horizon again as he neared her. The darkest thoughts in his mind could never be brought to light, especially to her. Better to redirect himself until the feelings were subdued.

"There's just something about him," he heard her say.

"What do you mean?" Tamiko asked.

"He's just," she sighed. "Okay fine, I'll just say it, but you can't make fun of me."

Tamiko laughed. Byakuya's eyes may have been on the sky, but his attention was directed at the girls' conversation.

"Just say it!" Tamiko prodded.

"Okay, um, Kuchiki-taicho is just such a daddy."

His heart skipped a beat. He'd never heard such a phrase before.

"That's definitely not what I thought you were about to say," Tamiko snickered.

"Don't make fun of me!"

Confused, Byakuya flash-stepped into his office. Daddy? What did she mean by that? His heart betrayed his cool by rapidly increasing it's tempo.

"A term of endearment, perhaps?" Senbonzakura offered.

"Not likely. The squad members typically fear me," Byakuya reasoned with his zanpakuto.

"If you don't ask, you'll never know."

"Whom would I ask, Senbonzakura?" he questioned.

"Who would know?"

His mind raced. Who could he ask? Who could be trusted?

Rukia.

He flash-stepped to the Thirteenth Squad's barracks and into Ukitake's office.

"Kuchiki-taicho, what a surprise! What can I do for you? Shall I brew some tea?" Ukitake asked, raising from his chair.

"I have no need for tea at this moment, Juushiro. Where is Rukia?"

"Your sister is in her quarters, Kuchiki-san."

"Thank you," he replied, disappearing in a flash.

His feet touched down lightly as he made his way to his sister's living quarters.

"Imouto {Japanese for "little sister"}, may I enter? I have a matter that requires your knowledge," he called out from behind her door.

The door slid open.

"Nii-sama, come in," Rukia replied, stepping to the side. "What can I help you with?"

"You're familiar with the idioms of the current generation, are you not?"

"Yes, what do you want to know?" Rukia asked, pouring a cup of freshly brewed tea. She handed the cup to Byakuya before pouring a glass for herself.

Rukia sat cross-legged on the ground and gestured for Byakuya to do the same. She took a sip as her brother sat.

"What does the term 'daddy' refer to?"

Rukia spat her tea upon hearing Byakuya's question. Her eyes widened.

"Nii-sama!"

"What is it? Is it an offensive word?"

Rukia contained her amusement. "Definitely not, but, I am curious, what was the context?"

Byakuya shifted uncomfortably. "I overheard a member of my squad, when conversing with a friend, refer to me as 'daddy'. What is it's meaning?"

Rukia crossed her arms. "I'm not sure I should divulge. You were eavesdropping!"

"Nonsense. I was doing no such thing. I simply overheard as I was walking past to my office," he replied smugly.

"Are you certain you want to know?"

"Why won't you tell me? Does it have a bad connotation?" he pressed.

"Not exactly, although you might find it dishonorable."

"Dishonorable? What is it's meaning? Disrespect will not be tolerated within my squad."

Rukia chuckled to herself. "Nii-sama, people often refer to men they have sexual interest in as 'daddy' in a reference to the man's dominant nature."

Byakuya's eyes widened and his back stiffened. He felt his face warm despite maintaining it's usual pale color. "I see."

"I asked if you wanted to know. I didn't want to tell you," Rukia said, standing and grabbing her brother's empty cup.

"Indeed." Byakuya rose to his feet. "I appreciate the information you have shared with me. If you'll excuse me."

With that, he flash-stepped to the Squad Six gardens. His heart beat loudly in his chest as he breathed in the summer air, filling his lungs. All of the squad members had retired to their living quarters for the evening. Byakuya's feet grazed the wooden paneling of the barrack floors as he flash-stepped to Ayame's private quarters.

"Satō-san. May I speak with you?"

The paper door slid open, revealing the dark-haired, ethereal girl.

"Kuchiki-taicho, what an honor, do come in." Ayame bowed deeply in respect.

Byakuya made quick work of closing the door, drawing his katana and pulling Ayame back against his chest, his blade pressed to her throat.

"You understand I could shred you to pieces with one command of my blade, do you not?" Byakuya said, his voice hushed and intimidating.

"Yes, Kuchiki-taicho," the girl replied.

"Why then have you dared to dishonor my name in the presence of Nakamura-san?" he questioned, strengthening his grip on the girl.

"I would never dare, Kuchiki-sama."

"I was walking the perimeter of the squad garden today and the wind carried your conversation with Tamiko to my ears."

Ayame's cheeks flushed crimson as she squirmed against his restraint. The tinge of pink on her cheeks reminded Byakuya of a cherry blossom in the spring. His fingers begged the caress the soft skin but he resisted.

"My apologies, Kuchiki-taicho, I can explain," Ayame started.

"There is no need. Do not waste my time." Byakuya released the girl, who stepped away, turning to face him.

"Kuchiki-taicho, what can I do to make amends?" the girl asked, making dignified direct eye contact with her captain.

Her audacity caused Byakuya's mind to flood with the salacious thoughts he'd worked to keep at bay. He took a step towards her, his presence towering over hers.

"I can overpower you in many ways beyond my zanpakuto's abilities, Satō-san."

"I deeply apologize, Kuchiki-taicho," Ayame responded, lowering her eyes to the ground in respect.

"Disrespect from a subordinate towards their captain must be dealt with swiftly, do you understand?" Byakuya continued, his eyes darkened with lustful desires. He used one hand to grab Ayame's wrist and pull her close to him, and the other to raise her chin so she had no other option but to look him in the face.

Ayame's pupils dilated when she locked eyes with the man standing above her, his face inches from hers. "I think I'm starting to understand, Taicho."

"Good. Now repeat how you described me to Nakamura-san."

Byakuya felt Ayame's heart race as he gripped her wrist between them.

"I told Tamiko-san that you were 'such a daddy'," Ayame said, her voice dropping to a whisper at the end.

Unsatisfied, Byakuya gripped her chin and raised her face even closer to his.

"What did you call me?"

"Daddy," Ayame said matter-of-factly, her confidence pushing through the layers of shame, embarrassment, and now, arousal within her.

Byakuya closed the distance between their lips, releasing her chin from his grasp and running his hand along her jaw to the small of her neck, his thumb resting gently on her throat. Ayame warmed into the kiss and ran her free hand up Byakuya's clothed chest. Taking her cue, Byakuya slid his tongue masterfully against the crease of their lips, begging for entrance to go deeper. Butterflies danced in the hollow of his stomach for the first time in decades. He released her wrist and put his hand on her waist, pulling her body closer into his chest. Ayame broke away for air, bewildered and bewitched.

"Kuchiki-taicho," she started.

Byakuya refused to let her finish her thought. He placed both hands firmly on her hips and guided her back against a wooden support beam in her room, showering kisses along the length of her neck. A soft whimper escaped her lips as his mouth connected with the most sensitive part of her neck. He sucked ever so slightly, eliciting another moan of satisfaction.

Ayame's hands found the front of his robes and pulled both sides apart, revealing her captain's firm chest, chiseled from a century of training. Byakuya's heart raced as her hands explored his bare skin. He pressed his body against hers.

Their lips connected again. This kiss was different from the first. This kiss was hungry and demanding. Ayame brought her teeth down on Byakuya's lower lip, tugging gently. Unable to control himself, he grabbed her thighs, hoisting her up and pinning her against the beam. Ayame wrapped her legs around his waist.

Byakuya gripped her waist with his arms as Ayame rolled her hips against his pelvis. She brought her hands up to his hair, tugging it free from the hair pieces that usually adorned his head, indicating his nobility. Ayame pulled away from the kiss, admiring the way the raven-black strands fell like silk around his face.

Byakuya took the opportunity to carry the girl to her futon, laying her down. He knelt between her legs and untied the belt holding her robes together. His lips started at her collarbones, adorning them with kisses, then worked his way down her chest, between her breasts. As his kisses trailed lower, he opened the front of her robe further until she was completely exposed. He kissed from her ribs down to her navel before lifting his head, admiring the figure of the woman beneath him.

"Exquisite," he remarked outloud, trailing his fingertip below her belly button.

Ayame's cheeks twinged pink at his comment. "Taicho, I," she started.

"Call me by my name," Byakuya interrupted, kissing the inside of her thigh.

"Byakuya," Ayame continued. "I don't know what to say."

Byakuya slid his hands up her shins and down her smooth thighs, lowering himself. He positioned his face between her legs and looked up at her.

"Then don't say anything at all."

He planted a kiss to the left of her folds, then to the right, his lips lightly grazing over her core as he switched sides. He traced his tongue around her center, avoiding the throbbing bundle of nerves crying for his attention.

Ayame whimpered as he teased her, her legs threatening to close around his neck with the slightest provocation. Byakuya looked up from between her legs and locked eyes with her. He slowly brushed his tonge in a circle around her aching bud, watching as her neck arched in pleasure. He licked deeper and deeper with every flick of his tongue, each gesture masterfully intentional.

Byakuya pulled her legs over his shoulders and lifted her hips so she was at his eye level. Her body twitched and squirmed as he continued to play with his tongue. He positioned his lips over the bud, sucking ever so slightly.

"B-Byakuya, don't stop, I'm so close," Ayame whimpered, tangling her hands in his hair, gripping the black strands tightly.

Byakuya buried his face deeper, maininting eye contact with the girl. His tongue moved along the slick folds of her inner lips then drummed against her clit. Ayame's eyes rolled back into her head as his worship between her shaking legs reached its peak. A breathy moan escaped her lips as her hips bucked forward, grinding against Byakuya's face.

"Oh, Byakuya," she sighed, riding out her high.

Byakuya lapped up the sweet juices of her body before fully untying his disheveled robe. The fabric draped loosely around his figure and displayed his statuesque build. Ayame sat up, admiring his body. She ran her hands slowly up his abdomen and chest. She moved to her knees and pushed him down to the futon, straddling his lap.

His hair clung to the beads of sweat on his brow. Ayame traced the edges of his abs before pushing his robe to the side, revealing his fully erect member. Looking up at him, she closed her mouth around the tip, sucking. Byakuya let his head roll back. Ayame dragged her tongue up the underside of his shaft, causing his legs to spasm slightly. She pulled his full length into her mouth. A moan escaped Byakuya's stoic mouth as she started to bob her head up and down. Ayame used one hand to rub the base of his cock in time with the movement of her mouth. Byakuya placed a strong hand on her head, gripping her hair.

Ayame continued to pleasure her captian, feeling his member twitch in her mouth. Byakuya pulled her up to his face and kissed her ravenously. He flipped them over so he was on top, placing one hand to the left of her head. He lined himself up with her still-soaked entrance.

"Byakuya, are you sure this okay? You're a noble. I'm sure there will be people who object," Ayame asked.

"I've disappointed their expectations before. Do you object?" Byakuya asked, teasing her entrance with the tip of cock.

"Not at all."

With her permission, Byakuya pushed himself into her. Her walls welcomed him, pulling him deeper.

"Is that alright, Ayame-chan?"

"Yes, Taicho," Ayame breathed, adjusting to his girth.

"Not Taicho."

"Byakuya."

"Also not Byakuya," he said, pulling out slowly.

Ayame's cheeks flushed darker. "Yes, daddy," she said cautiously.

"Good girl," Byakuya praised as he plunged into her again, deeper than before.

Ayame threw her head back with a gasp. Byakuya began thrusting his hips forward repetitively, hitting deeper and deeper with every stroke. He put his other hand on the right side of her head, caging her in.

Ayame's inner walls sucked and pulled at his length, beckoning him further inside. The slap of skin and the smell of pheromones filled the air as Byakuya grew more frantic with his ministrations. The rigid tip of his cock dragged across her spot with every thrust. Byakuya leaned back and hiked one of Ayame's legs over his shoulder, offering a different angle. Her hips rolled, legs shaking, the knot in her stomach threatening to unwind.

"Call me that name again," Byakuya breathed.

He brought his thumb down between her legs and brushed agasint the bundle of nerves. Ayame's back arched off the futon as fireworks erupted inside of her.

"Oh, daddy, that feels so good!" she moaned as her insides contracted, pulling Byakuya's release closer. He dropped her leg and positioned himself above her again, leaving passionate kisses along her neck. His breathing turned shaky as he neared his own release, milked by her core.

Ayame whimpered with each thrust his body gave. With a final heave, ecstasy ripped through his body. He moaned, muffling the sound in the curve of her neck. His back expanded with each haggard breath.

"Next time, don't wait fifty years before touching a woman," Senbonzakura said.

Byakuya shoved the thoughts of his zanpakuto to the side and removed his captain's haori, gingerly wiping the girl clean. He laid on the futon beside her as he regained his breath.

Ayame propped herself up with one elbow. "For the record, Taicho, this is exactly what I meant when I said you were 'such a daddy'."

Byakuya smirked at the girl. "I know."

[onecanonlife]

Wilbur wakes up one morning to find white in his hair. This is—irritating, for several reasons, but that's all it is. An annoyance. A distraction.

There's nothing deeper at work here. There's nothing wrong at all.

(Or, the stresses of the presidency give Wilbur a white streak of hair earlier in canon, and somehow, this serves as the cry for help he can never bring himself to make.)

(word count: 6,040)

(first part) (second part) (fourth part)

--------------------

Part Three

She knocks twice before opening the door, and he barely has time to look up before she’s there. Slightly hesitant, perhaps, but the look on her face is one of resolve as she steps into the room, and nudges the door closed behind her.

It takes a second to find his voice. He can’t remember if she’s ever visited him here. Surely she has, at one point or another. Anyone is free to come find him whenever they choose. He makes himself available, or at least, as available as he can be. The door is never locked, and he is always here.

“Niki?” he asks. “Is something wrong?” He puts down his pen. He hadn’t actually been using it, had instead been twirling it between his fingers and staring off into space. He finds himself doing that incredibly often, and sometimes, he catches himself wondering if it’s worth getting out of bed at all, if that’s all he’s going to do with his time.

She smiles at him, then, but like so many of the smiles she’s directed towards him lately, it seems strained, thin, and it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Not for me,” she says. “But I would like to talk to you for a little while, if that would be okay?”

She’s already reaching for a chair, one of the ones he keeps in here, set up so that he can carry out meetings across this desk. None of them are very comfortable, but before he can offer to find her a better one—there has to be one somewhere in this building—she is sitting, perching on the edge, crossing one leg over the other and resting her forearms on her thigh.

Anxiety is already rising. He doesn’t know why she’d come here, doesn’t know what she’d want to talk about, if nothing is wrong on her end of things. Not with that look on her face. Except, there was the whole thing yesterday, and he was very rude to all of them, so perhaps that’s the subject matter. He gave an apology, but it was rushed, and then he all but ran away. He wouldn’t blame her if she had a piece to say on that, little though he wants to discuss it.

So perhaps he should go ahead and get in on it.

“About yesterday—” he starts, but she’s saying the exact same thing, almost in unison, so he cuts off. But she does too, and for a second, they just stare at each other, neither sure how to proceed.

“Go on,” Niki says, after a moment, and he nods, somewhat tentative.

“Right. I just wanted to say, about yesterday, I really am sorry about that. I didn’t mean to lose my temper there. I was just feeling a bit stressed, ended up snapping. But I’m sorry. It wasn’t anything you did.”

Niki draws in a breath. He can see her steeling herself, visibly, and his trepidation grows; what could she possibly have to say to him that would take so much mental preparation?

“I accept your apology,” she says, “but, actually Wilbur, I wanted to apologize to you.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I pushed you yesterday, even when it was pretty obvious you weren’t feeling comfortable talking about it,” she says. “I think—I think we do need to talk about some things, and that’s why I’m here, but I shouldn’t have confronted you like I did. Especially in front of others, since it was a conversation that we had with just each other. So I’m very sorry about that.”

He isn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. Some part of him feels a bit mollified, because it is true that he felt uncomfortable with the direction the conversation took. But at the same time, that doesn’t really excuse how he reacted to it. He could have handled it better. Should have handled it better, in fact.

“Oh,” he says, and scrambles for something else. Talking is his thing, is what he’s good at. He can’t just be saying oh to people. He needs a response. Needs to be well-spoken, eloquent, because that’s what is expected of him, and he has to fulfill expectations. “Well, that’s alright, then. You really don’t have anything you need to apologize for.”

She frowns. Why did that make her frown? What did he say?

“Okay,” she says, and that doesn’t help him figure it out at all. “Would you mind if we talked about something, though?”

He doesn’t know what else she would want to talk about. At least, not like this. Not coming to his office, expression serious, body language tense. Not saying this, that nothing is wrong with her—because if she doesn’t have a problem of some kind, he doesn’t know why she would be acting this way. Unless there’s another problem with him. Or she thinks there’s another problem with him. But—no, he’s been doing well, lately. Yesterday’s outburst aside, he’s made all of his recent meetings, he’s finished all the paperwork that urgently needed to be done, and he’s been meticulous about his appearance.

Mostly. His coat still hasn’t made it into the wash. But he’s done everything that he’s had the time and energy for, and he thought that it was all holding up.

“Of course,” he says. “What is it?”

She draws in another breath. That’s the second time, now, that she’s steadied herself in so obvious a fashion.

“I’m going to ask you something, and I’d really, really like it if you’d answer me truthfully,” she says, and he can feel his pulse quickening already. “Wil, are you alright?”

She puts a strange sort of emphasis on the final word. He’s not sure why. For a second, he’s lost, adrift, has no idea at all how to answer, because—because of course he’s alright. He’s fine. Just fine. He’s keeping his head above water, steering clear of the circling sharks, and that’s what’s most important. So why do the words linger in his mouth before he can force them out? Why does it take so much effort?

No. He needs to pull himself together.

“Yes,” he says. “Niki, I’m perfectly well.”

Her face crumples. He jolts, hand jerking forward, his instinct to comfort her, but his desk is in the way.

“Wil,” she says, voice soft. “You’re not sleeping.”

The way she says it, so frankly, so matter-of-fact, as if she knows, takes him aback.

“I—” he starts, but she’s already gone on.

“Your eyes are always bloodshot, and I know I joked about the bags under them, but—they’re really bad. Really dark. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but sometimes, when you walk, you kind of—sway, a little bit. Like you’re too tired to stay upright properly.”

He hasn’t noticed. He hasn’t—that can’t possibly be right, can it? Because it’s true, he’s not getting as much sleep as he would like, but it can’t be that bad. It’s not as if he never sleeps at all. So it can’t be that bad. Can’t be that noticeable. Niki has to be looking too hard, jumping at shadows that aren’t there, because the alternative is worse. Is unthinkable.

Because if what she’s saying is true, who else has seen?

“I sleep,” he refutes, but it sounds weak to his own ears. Meek. And Niki shakes her head.

“Not enough,” she says. “And—” She cuts off. And then, she reaches out for him. He watches as she closes her fingers around his wrist, feeling almost outside of himself. His head is buzzing. “Wil, you’re too skinny. I’m really worried that you’re not eating enough.”

He eats. He does. Maybe not a lot, since food has become increasingly hard to choke down—this morning, for instance, he tried, and almost threw it all back up on the spot. But he does eat. And it’s not like he wouldn’t, if he could. He just sort of—can’t. Not much, at any rate. But it’s not as though he doesn’t eat at all.

“I think you might be reading too much into things, there,” he says, and tries a smile. “I eat, I promise. How could I not, with you around?”

“You’ve been by twice in as many weeks,” Niki states. “And both times, you left in a hurry, before I could give you much of anything at all, because the conversation turned to something you didn’t want to talk about. No, you can’t tell me I’m wrong,” she adds, raising a finger at him. He leans back, away from it. “I’m not wrong. That’s why you left. Both times. And I—I really am sorry, Wil, if this isn’t something you want to talk about. If you don’t feel comfortable with it. I don’t want to hurt you, or pressure you, or anything like that. But I’m scared you’re hurting yourself.”

She’s—what.

Now that—that truly is a ludicrous idea. That is—

No. He wouldn’t do something like that. He wouldn’t—by itself, the risk of someone noticing is more than enough to dissuade him, though—he is self-aware enough to realize that if that’s his first reason for—abstaining, then that might not be a good sign. Of. Things. He’ll think about it later.

Or not. Or maybe never. This seems like a good thing to not think about, actually.

“Not in the way you’re thinking of,” Niki says, and he’s left it too long again. Too long without a reply. He keeps doing that, keeps getting lost in his own head. He needs to stay more present, needs to keep his head in the game. It’s just hard, when everything feels so far away, when he’s constantly thinking through a thick fog. “Not unless—not unless you are, but—”

She sounds like she might actually cry, at that, and that is enough to force him to focus.

“I’m not,” he says, and to his relief, his voice comes out firm, steady. “I swear to you, I’m not.”

“Okay,” she says. “That’s good. I’m—I’m really glad. But—you’re overworking yourself. You’re not sleeping or eating enough, and you’re always in here, and that’s—none of it’s good for you. None of it is healthy. And then, your hair—”

Annoyance bubbles up. Just a bit.

“Do we have to be on about that again?” he asks. “We’ve been through this. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know you don’t think it is,” she says. “But I’ve heard about things like this, Wil. It’s not that—it’s not that it looks bad, or anything like that. It’s just that hair doesn’t do that without a reason. Not when you’re twenty-four years old. That’s why I keep bringing it up. You’re stressed, even if you try to deny it.”

“And what if I am?” he asks. “It’s a stressful job. I’m running a nation here. But that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it. It certainly doesn’t mean I’m not capable of doing my job.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Niki says. “Who—I know you’re capable. I never said that you weren’t.”

He may have overplayed his hand a bit, with that one. There’s a bit of confusion in her tone now, where there wasn’t before, stacked on top of an increasing amount of worry. He’s not doing very good work of assuaging her concerns. But even still, this conversation is bothering him, now. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep a straight face, and he brings his hands together, folding them on top of his desk. Her hand falls away from his wrist, and—it’s because he’s so tired, that he has to catch himself before he grabs it, moves it back to where it was. He’s not that needy.

“Then I’m not quite sure that I understand the point of this,” he says, and tries his best not to bite out the words. Just because his temper is on a short fuse doesn’t mean that he can take it out on Niki. She’s just trying to help him. “I am stressed, it’s true. But it’s not as if there’s anything to be done about that. And as I’ve been saying, it’s nothing that I can’t handle.”

“The point is that you’re working yourself into the ground!” Niki says, her eyes flashing. “It doesn’t matter if you can handle it, it’s about whether you should!”

“And why shouldn’t I?” he snaps. “Aren’t I the president? Isn’t this my job?”

“Not if it costs you this much!” she snaps back.

And—she doesn’t mean it like that. He’s almost certain that she doesn’t mean it like that, doesn’t mean it like it came out, doesn’t mean she thinks he shouldn’t be president. The thing is, he would accept it, if that were the case. If his people banded together and decided that someone else would do a better job than him. If they thought he was no longer deserving of the position. He would accept it. He would step down, retire to private citizenship. He just doesn’t know what he would do afterward. Doesn’t know what he would do with himself, if the country he founded decided he was no longer good enough for them.

But of course, he has never been good enough. Not really. He’s hanging onto his pretense by bloody fingertips.

Has Niki realized it?

“It’s not worth it if this is what it does to you,” Niki continues, voice softer. “Nothing is. Nothing matters if you’re not taking care of yourself.”

He doesn’t—that’s not right. It can’t be right, because the country is more important. L’Manberg is more important, has been since the day they declared their independence, staked everything on a van and a dream. He started it, and so it is up to him to continue it, because the prosperity of his people must come first. His nation must come first.

What is he, in the face of that?

For a second, Niki goes blurry. He blinks, hard, and she comes back into focus, but his eyes are prickling. Stinging. His chest has gone tight, his breaths coming shorter, and he doesn’t want this. This can’t be happening now. He needs to—to shove it all away, down in a box, never to see the light of day. Only to be opened when he’s alone, in his quarters, safely ensconced where there is no one else to watch him break down. No one else to watch his shame.

He’s not doing this in front of Niki.

And yet, the sensation doesn’t subside, so he stands abruptly, surprising her, he thinks, and he walks to the window, shoving the curtains away and staring out over what he can see of the country from here. It’s not much; the window is not very big, but he can see the walls, the black and yellow ramparts. Standing tall, standing strong. This is why he does this, why he works so hard, why he refuses to show vulnerability. This is why. This is what he is protecting, what he must continue to protect, for as long as he is allowed.

His eyes sting again, the world wavering. There is a sob trapped behind his ribcage, clawing at him, trying to tear him open. He breathes, deeply, and doesn’t let it. Now is not the time, and here is not the place, and he will not lose his composure. He will not. Not over—and what is he reacting to in the first place? Niki’s words? He has no real reason for the tears welling up. He’s just weak. Emotionally. That’s what this is. And that’s why he can’t let it show.

Another deep breath. He pretends it doesn’t shake.

“Wil?” Niki asks. Behind him, now, and he doesn’t turn to look back at her.

“L’Manberg is worth everything,” he says. “You do understand that, right?” His voice doesn’t waver.

“I love L’Manberg,” Niki says. “We all love L’Manberg. But we don’t love it more than we love you.”

He winces, and he’s glad he’s turned away from her, glad she didn’t see.

Perhaps she believes that’s the truth. But it can’t possibly be. He could understand them loving him in connection to loving L’Manberg, this city, this nation, this wonderful place that they’ve built together, that he’s poured his sweat and blood and tears into. He and L’Manberg are irrevocably intertwined, and he could understand loving him, simply by virtue of loving the other. But separately? He hasn’t done anything. L’Manberg is his crowning achievement; besides that, what does he have to offer people? What reason? What virtue?

In a way, he is L’Manberg, and he cannot remove himself from it, no more than a bird can remove its own wings.

“Wil?” Niki says. Her voice has gone sharp. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” he says, he lies, and—his voice breaks. Just a little bit. It would probably be unnoticeable, if the circumstances were any different. If Niki weren’t already paying so much attention to him, scrutinizing him, spotlight turned up to its maximum brightness. Like he’s on stage, and she’s in the audience, and he’s fumbled the line and she’s only noticed because she knows how the play is supposed to go.

Metaphors. Spiraling away from him. Just like this conversation.

“Wil,” Niki says again, more insistent. And closer. She’s stood up, stepped toward him. He still doesn’t turn, because the prickling has only gotten worse, and he’s scared to blink, lest that send the tears spilling over. If she looks at his face, she’ll see them. There’s no avoiding that. “Wil, please. Don’t lie to me.”

Ah. She knows.

He’s not sure why that’s the thing that breaks him. Why that’s the thing that pushes it all over into being too much.

The sob escapes.

Only partially; he tamps down on it on instinct, and his fist flies up to his mouth. Habit, that, to muffle his sounds. But that almost makes it worse, because the sob comes out sounding not quite like a sob, but instead more of a strangled whimper, bit off and weak, like the dying call of some small, hapless animal.

He doesn’t let another one out. He presses his fist against his lips, though he doesn’t part them, doesn’t bite down. But the damage has already been done, and then, Niki is there, right by his side, and he doesn’t dare to look directly at her, but he can imagine what expression she’s making. Some variation on the same one she’s had this whole time. Concern, deep and abiding and wholly undeserved, wholly unneeded.

“Hey,” she says. “Please talk to me. What is it? What can I do?”

His throat is too thick, too clogged. He has no hope of evening out his voice.

“You could go,” he manages, hoarse. Blunt, and he hopes she doesn’t mistake it as anger. He’s not angry. Not at her, at least. “I might need a moment?”

He didn’t mean for that to be a question. But Niki just steps closer, shaking her head.

“I’ll do anything other than that,” she says. “I’m not leaving you alone right now. Not if—oh, Wil.”

She has a good angle, now, to see his face fully. So the jig is up, and he knows there’s no hope of getting her to leave now. That’s how Niki is. Too kind. Too caring. And sure enough, she reaches out toward him in the next moment, and his usual reaction would be to flinch away, but instead, he just watches through obscured vision as her hand nears his face, and cups his cheek, tilting his head toward her.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers. Part of him wants to jerk away from the contact, and part of him wants to stay there forever. Or for a good, long time, at least. Just because it really is nice to be touched in a way that is not meant to harm him.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “It’s nothing.” But he can’t keep his eyes open any longer, so he blinks, and there go the first tears. Dripping down, out in the open, no disguising them. There are more sobs building up, but these, he forces down, keeps in his chest, out of his throat. Even if it makes his breathing unsteady, makes his chest jump and hitch every few seconds, it’s better than the alternative.

“It’s not nothing,” she says. “If it’s hurting you, then it’s not nothing. Please believe me.”

He can’t. He can’t do that. Not even for her sake.

“Is it what I said?” she asks. “I swear, I’m not angry with you. I just want to help.”

He shudders, and turns his face away from her. Her hand falls from him.

“Is it—is it that?” she asks, and oh, how he wishes she wouldn’t. “Why does that upset you?”

He—he can’t. He can’t answer that. He can’t talk about this. He can’t.

“If you would—if you would rather I go get someone else, I could do that,” Niki says, slowly, and he can tell that it pains her. He might be hurting her feelings, with this. He wishes he could explain that it’s not her in particular that he can’t trust with this. It’s everyone.

For a moment, he entertains taking her up on the offer, if only because she would have to leave to retrieve someone, which would give him time to escape his office and go—where? Where would he go? To his room, to scream into his pillow once again? A bit late for that. And the idea is foolish anyhow; she doesn’t need to leave at all, can just talk to someone on her communicator and stay with him until they arrive, and no, absolutely not. He doesn’t want that. As bad as this is, as shit as he feels right now, he doesn’t want anyone else to see. It’s bad enough that it’s Niki but—what if it were Tubbo, or Tommy? One of the people who looks up to him as an example and not just a friend or brother?

No. Bad enough that it’s Niki, but better her than someone else, and he’s done it again, has taken too long to respond because his brain refuses to think any faster than a slow, plodding pace, a trot rather than a gallop, and—

“Please don’t,” he says, and it comes out both whisper and plea. And then, because he has to try again, because he won’t be satisfied unless he does, he says, “Really, I just need—a moment. It happens sometimes, it’s fine, but if we could maybe pick this up later—”

“I’m not leaving you while you’re crying,” Niki says. “Please get that through your head.”

“But you should,” he says. He fights to get the words out past the lump in his throats, past the pressure that continues to build up. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. And I’m fine, because I can, I’m used to it. So if you’ll just give me a minute, I can—I can compose myself, and we can keep on.” He bites out each word, wary of letting something loose that he doesn’t want to, but that has the downside of airing his frustration again. He’s not trying to snap at her, he really isn’t, but better that than to dissolve into full-on crying. A few tears are manageable. He can get this back under control.

“Wilbur,” Niki says, “why on earth do you think you’re something that I have to deal with?”

He looks at her again, something in her tone compelling him. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright.

And this is not going to be the right answer, not going to be what she’s looking for, but he’s so worn out that he just—

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks.

“Oh,” Niki says. “Oh. No, Wil, no, that’s not right. You’re not—is this why you haven’t told anyone? Because you’re—oh, Prime, Wil. You’re not something I have to ‘deal’ with. You’re my friend, and I care about you, and I want you to be okay.” And before he can even begin to think of how to respond to that, she steps forward, and then her arms are around him, and she’s hugging him.

That’s when his knees decide to buckle.

“Oh, shit,” Niki says, but she guides them both down to the floor, so that they’re kneeling, kneeling and she’s still hugging him, still has her hands splayed on his back. “Okay, you’re okay. Are you with me, Wil?”

He intends to say yes. What comes out instead is a small, “Mhm.” Not even a word. And he’d be angry with himself, except all of a sudden, his chest is heaving, and the tears are coming quicker, and scrunching up his eyes doesn’t help, and it sort of hurts, now, to hold back the sobs that want to wrench out of him, hurts in his ribs. And he’s shaking, and despite all of that, he’s starting to feel cloudy again, distant from himself, and with that realization comes another: at this point, he’s lost control. His body has decided to shut down on him, and he doesn’t really have a say in the matter.

The sobs start coming out. Loud, broken things, like shards of glass twisted and half-melted until there’s no putting the pieces back together the same.

His mind feels detached. Impartial. Numb. So he no longer bothers to try and stop it. Just floats, a bystander within himself, as he has a complete break down on the floor of his office, with Niki holding him.

He’s not sure how long it takes for the tears to stop. He’s not counting. Not taking notice of much of anything, really. His body wears itself out, and he’s left there, slumped against her, like an empty shell.

She’s been talking to him this whole time, a stream of platitudes, comfort words, tumbling after one another, but now, she stops. For a moment, there is silence. He can hear himself breathing, rough and ragged.

“Hey,” Niki says. “Are you still here?”

He’s not sure how to answer that. He doesn’t feel very present, and frankly, he likes it that way, right this second. If he were feeling any more present, he’d be dealing with far more than he thinks he’s equipped for. But he is here physically, and he has enough presence of mind to respond to her, at least, even if it all feels so very far away, and he is so very tired.

He has been this tired all along, he thinks. This was a breaking point. Does it make him feel any better, that this was probably inevitable?

“Yeah,” he murmurs. His head is resting on her shoulder. He keeps it that way. It’s easier if he doesn’t have to look her in the eyes.

“That’s good,” she says. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Are you actually asking,” he mumbles, “or are you going to make me anyway?”

She sighs. That was the wrong thing to say. It’s harder for him to care.

“I don’t want to make you do anything,” she says. “That’s not why I’m here. If you really, really don’t want to talk about it, then—we don’t have to. But I think you need to. I think you’re hurting, and you’ve kept it to yourself, and I think that’s not a good thing.”

“‘S better than the alternative.”

“Okay,” she says. “What’s the alternative?”

Is he really going to do this? Is he going to tell her? Every instinct he has cries out against it, but the thing about that is that his instincts are rather dull at the moment. Easier to push aside. And his logical reasoning informs him that he’s already cried all over her, so really, he owes her an explanation at this point. Doing so might make everything worse, but if that’s the case, it’s no more than he deserves, for being unable to keep it together.

“Niki,” he says, “I’m a bad president.”

His voice is muffled by the fabric of her shirtsleeve. But he knows she understands him, because she stiffens.

“What makes you say that?” she asks.

“‘M not any good,” he tells her. “I’ve got all this work to do and I can barely do any of it. I don’t know what I’m doing at all. I’ve only been pretending this whole time, to know what I’m doing. I’m a shit leader.”

“You’re not,” Niki says, “but if you really think that, why didn’t you ask for help?”

He shakes his head, still holding his face on her shoulder. He doesn’t want to see her expression. “Can’t,” he says. “‘M supposed to be able to do it. I didn’t want you to know I’m a failure.”

Niki doesn’t respond. For a full three seconds, and he wonders if this is the part where she leaves. Finally. And then, she stops hugging him, and the part of him that is still awake enough to form coherent sentences thinks, yes, this is it, this is what you have sowed. Except then, she doesn’t leave at all, makes no move to get up, and instead grips him by the arms, and moves him backwards, so that she can stare him right in the face.

“Wilbur Soot,” she says, and she sounds more upset than he has ever heard her. “You are not a failure.”

“I am,” he says. Why is he trying so hard to get her to believe it? Maybe he just feels like he’s committed, now, to pulling the rug out. “I am.”

“You’re not,” she insists. “You made this nation. You took a drug van and turned it into a country where everyone is happy and free. Everyone looks up to you. We all love you.”

And there it is. The problem, in a nutshell.

“And what happens when you stop?” he murmurs.

Niki is completely silent, completely still. Staring at him.

“What happens when it turns out I’ve never been good enough?” he continues, voice weak. “What happens when the man you look up to lets you down? What happens when you know that all I am, in the end, is a pathetic shell who can barely get himself out of bed in the morning, much less make any of the moves that would lead to actual prosperity? What happens when you all learn that your president is shit at his job?” His voice strengthens as he goes on, rises to a more normal tone, fueled by his own disgust.

In a way, it’s freeing, finally saying all of this aloud. Whatever the consequences may be.

“What exactly,” Niki says, “have we done to make you think there’s anything you could do that would make us stop caring about you?”

She actually does sound a little bit angry, now. Her eyebrows are furrowed, her nostrils flared. He opens his mouth to respond, because the answer to that should be fairly obvious at this point, but she continues before he can.

“Do you really think we only love you because of—because you’re president? Or because you’ve made a country? We love this country because you made it, not the other way around. Why would you—Wil. Have you been thinking like this the whole time?”

Suddenly, he finds himself unable to respond. Paralyzed. Stricken dumb. Blinking, working his jaw. She shakes her head, tossing her hair, and—are those tears glittering in her eyes? Surely not.

It’s another second before she keeps talking. She was waiting on a response from him, he believes, but it’s one that he is incapable of giving.

“Oh,” she says. “You really do believe that.”

And the way she says it—he wants to cry again, for putting that pain in her voice. That expression on her face. Her hands are still on his shoulders, have not yet been pulled back, but suddenly, his skin is crawling, the contact too much.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he’s not sure exactly what he’s apologizing for. For his numerous inadequacies, maybe. For the fact that he’s not strong enough for this, and never has been. For the way he started this country and so foolishly believed that he would be able to lead it well, that he wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the paperwork and struck with the desire to lie in bed all day and do absolutely nothing, a desire that’s harder and harder to fight. For the manner in which his body has betrayed him, time and time again, for his hair turning white and his inability to prevent his outbursts and the way that it shut down on him just now, let everything out in the most unbecoming method possible. For the fact that he was weak enough to let it all show, too weak to press on and get through it.

For hurting her, certainly. He never wanted to do that.

But then, to his surprise, she yanks him forward, swift and insistent, into another hug. His mind shouts in alarm, but his body, once again, has a different idea, and he finds himself slumping into her hold again.

“You are worth more than L’Manberg,” she says. “If this place went up in flames tomorrow, I’d be most concerned with making sure you were alive.”

No. No, she can’t just say that, can’t say it and mean it, because if she does—

“Stop,” he rasps.

“No,” she says. “We don’t love you because you made this nation, or because you’re the president. We love you because you’re our friend, and you’re our friend because you’re good and kind and clever and funny, and you’re you. Not because you’re good at making speeches or signing papers or building walls. You’re just you. I promise that’s enough, Wilbur.”

He shudders again. Full-bodied.

“I don’t believe you,” he admits. What’s one more mark against him, at this point? “I can’t.”

“Then let us help you so that you can,” she says. “Don’t shut us out.”

That’s another thing that he can’t answer. His mind is spinning. He doesn’t know what to believe. He wishes this whole thing hadn’t happened in the first place, wishes she hadn’t stepped in here at all. And yet, some part of him feels safe. Safer than he’s felt in a good long while. He’s not so stupid as to think that it’s not because she’s holding him.

“How about we start with this?” she says. Her voice has softened. “How about you take a nap, and then, when you wake up, we get you some food. Something nice and simple, like soup.”

That—is easier to comprehend. Physical needs. Needs that he’s not intentionally neglecting, but that he can’t seem to make himself take care of. He can—he can do that, especially if it makes Niki feel better, and he is tired. Exhausted. His eyes are drooping shut already, though he shouldn’t fall asleep on Niki. He should go—back to his room. To his bed. That’s where he should sleep. Except he’s almost never able to get good sleep, there, and he still feels safe. Right here, right now. Safe, and he can’t remember the last time that happened. Can’t hope to anticipate the next time it will.

“Alright,” he mumbles. Niki isn’t pushing him off yet. Maybe she’ll wait until he’s out.

There’s still a portion of himself screaming not to do this. Screaming that he just keeps digging himself a bigger hole. That with everything he continues to reveal, with every weakness he puts on display, he’s only going to make the inevitable fallout worse. Because there will be fallout, no matter what Niki says. Perhaps she is telling the truth. Perhaps. But she doesn’t speak for everyone else, and he doesn’t want—

But he’s so tired, in the end.

“Don’t let anyone else in?” he says. He’s unsure if the words come out understandable. He’s slipping. He’s letting himself.

“Just sleep, Wil,” she answers, and that’s the last thing he hears.

[peachywrite]

Unpleasant Pleasantries

Rohan Kishibe x JosukeSister!Reader

Trigger Warning: inappropriate stand use, mild suggestive themes

Rohan thought this to be the perfect opportunity to get back at that imbecile with the hair of a 60’s delinquent, but instead found something more fulfilling than revenge.

It was your first time meeting the famous mangaka, but Koichi insisted that you introduce yourself to the newly found stand user as a formality.

~

“It’s better to make friends than enemies, y/n! So please do this for me.” He begged, clasping his hands tightly together as he bowed.

“Koichi-chan, he ripped out pages from your face and tried to do the same to Okuyasu and Josuke. I don’t know if I trust this guy.” You sighed, nervous and even a little scared.

“It’ll be fine, when you tell him you’re related to Josuke, he won’t even think about trying anything!” Koichi’s eyes glistened, still silently begging you to go.

“Fine, but if I don’t show up back home in an hour, call Josuke please.” Koichi nodded enthusiastically, shouting thank yous while he ran off to find your brother.

~

Thanks to the written address Koichi had given you, it was easy to find the large Victorian mansion that belonged to the isolated artist.

“Come on, y/n. You can do this. Just a quick hello and you’re done.” You tried to psych yourself up, taking one last deep breath before approaching the walkway that led up to the door.

Knock Knock

You waited, your heart rate a bit too quick for your liking.

You could hear the steps on the other side slowly approaching and suddenly stopping, only to find the door creak by.

“Now who would be disrupting the Great Rohan Kishibe?” The man spoke in a sinister tone, swinging the door open.

Rohan Kishibe looked nothing like how you expected him to. He was built slim but still toned, his green hair neatly styled and face slim and sharp with a cute dolphin bandage placed on the bridge of his nose. His green eyes stared at you intently, as if he was trying to analyze your face as well.

“I-I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. My friend Koichi wanted me to introduce myself. I’m Y/N Higashikata. I’m a stand user and I go to school with the rest of the boys.” You stammer out, guilt hitting you for interrupting the presumably busy manga artist.

The man eyed you with a devilish smirk, clapping his hands together like he had discovered something amusing.

“You’re Josuke’s little sister! Oh how fun! You know, you’re too cute to be related to that boy. Now please come in, I’ll make you some tea and we can talk.”

“I’m actually the same age as him, and I’d love to join you but I got... study plans with K-Koichi!” You tried to avoid his stare but as he made eye contact, you knew you had lost.

“Nonsense! I’ll give him a call and let him know you’ll be studying with me, now please come in already.” His smile grew while he pulled you into his abode by your wrists.

The house was lightly decorated with manga related memorabilia on the wood carved shelves and many original panels from famous mangas hung framed on the soft toned walls, but the home still held a grand Victorian feeling to it.

Your original unease disappeared as you took in the grandeur of the mansion and the interesting items that adorned it so carefully. Rohan smirked at the curiosity in your eyes and the quick movements they made while you focused on specific areas of his home.

“Would you like a personal tour of the property before we study? I will warn you though, not all the rooms have been styled by yours truly yet. It’s a work in progress at the moment.” The smile he bared had you suspicious again, but you didn’t want to be rude to the owner of such a magnificent estate.

“As much as I would love to, your home is absolutely stunning, I sadly only have an hour to study. My mom would kill me if I got home late again.” A hefty sigh escaped your lips and you gave him your best upset expression you could muster.

You hoped he wouldn’t key in on your lying, remembering the warning Koichi had given you about his ability to discern genuine emotions from fake ones.

The mangaka squinted his eyes for a moment, causing your heartbeat to speed up substantially, but his face returned to its usual smile that you swore held a bit of deviousness underneath.

“Oh! it’s alright, dear. I understand. I’ll save it for your next visit. Let’s get to your work now, follow me to the kitchen. I’ll prepare us something and you can take a seat by the window.” He gently took your hand, guiding you to the kitchen and carefully pulling out a seat for you at his dining room table.

A beautiful bouquet set in a hand sculpted vase caught your interest on the table as Rohan busied himself with brewing a fresh pot of tea. The flowers were bright in color compared to the muted ones of the vase, but the contrast made both appear unique and appealing to the eye.

“I see you even appreciate the smaller details of a home. Though I am a mangaka, I do dabble in other forms of artistic expression. Take pottery for example, I glazed this vase in a muted color pallet so it could stand out on its own when beautifully bright flowers were placed in it. The two compliment each other nicely, don’t they?” He set down two tea cups and began to pour.

“Yes! And I especially love the bright purples in the lillies you picked here.” You gently touched a petal, Rohan now lightly tapping his cheek, pulling out a chair for himself to sit right beside you.

His closeness and unwavering gaze brought a heaviness to your chest, making you stumble over your words.

“Um-m thank you for treating me so well and letting me study in your home, Rohan-sensei.” You began to unpack your notes and textbook, Rohan scooting closer to analyze what you had written.

“No need to thank me, my dear. Now let’s get to your studies. What is it you need to work on today?” The smile he shares with you is comforting, but you can’t help but feel like he was plotting something.

You set your pencil bag down and prepare your notebook, trying to make yourself busy by setting up.

“Biology. I’ve only just recently started going to school in person, but I tested well enough to be placed in the highest class. Today we’re supposed to label all the organs in this frog drawing.” Your tone comes off as annoyed and Rohan picks up on it, tilting his head to the side while he reads your frog diagram.

“You aren’t a fan of biology? I’ve got a few anatomy sketches of animals you could use instead of this photocopied worksheet. Maybe that will help peak your interest?” He stands and saunters out to find his sketches, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

When Rohan returns, the two of you work on your Biology homework for about an hour, finishing the entire pot of tea in the process. You found out that Rohan was quite skilled at anatomy, having an entire sketchbook dedicated to the anatomy of many living things, including the likes of frogs and flowers. He was extremely helpful and fun to talk with.

As you packed up your bag, Rohan remained seated in his chair, playing with one of the lilies from the bouquet. You weren’t sure if you should head towards the door and leave Rohan or wait for him to stand and lead you out. You were about to speak when the mangaka interrupted with a swish of his pen in your direction.

“Heaven’s Door.”

You felt a sharp shove of air to your midsection, sending you onto the floor. Every movement you attempted was futile as the grinning artist looked down at you. A deep chuckle haunted you while he leaned in closer to your face. His hands gently caressed your cheek, opening it up like a book.

“I’m sorry, y/n. You’re interesting and I’d love to learn more about you, but I’m impatient. It’ll be far easier for me to just read you. Don’t fret, my dear. I’ll make sure you don’t remember this.” He flipped through your pages, ignoring the tears that ran down onto the very paper he was trying to read.

“Now let’s just read the juicy bits today. You were hospitalized along with your brother when you were only four, a strange parasite made up of Dio’s cells attacked your immune system at age twelve and had you bedridden until fairly recently.” The curiosity he held for your story excited him, the pen he held in one hand quickly wrote onto the notepad he placed on the floor beside your head.

You felt like sinking into yourself, ignoring his quips and teases as the embarrassment of the mangaka reading your thoughts and feelings enveloped you. It wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be this way? He was so kind before and just like a flick of a switch, he changed.

“Oh, now how did you escape that? Here we are, thanks to Mr.Joestar’s Hamon lessons, you not only came back from your illness, but gained a proper stand and the ability to wield Hamon just like your father and great grandfather! Wait, what’s this new paragraph about?” He squinted closely, reading your page out loud again.

“I have to visit Rohan Kishibe today because Koichi told me to. He practically begged. Even though I’m scared, Koichi gave me his word that nothing bad would happen. Rohan Kishibe looks very different from what I imagined a mangaka to look. Well, what did you expect me to look like?” His smirk grows as he continues on.

“Ah, another new bit is here! Rohan Kishibe is very good at anatomy, he’s been kind and helpful, I’d like to get to know him better. I think Josuke was just overreacting when he called Rohan Kishibe pure evil. I could see us being friends.”

His smile disappears skimming the next sentence, his usual tone of voice changed as he starts to read. He sounded upset, hurt even.

You were the one being wronged here! Why would he get upset? He doesn’t have the right.

“Josuke was right. Rohan Kishibe is not nice, he is terribly mean. He’s using me for his entertainment. He doesn’t care. Rohan Kishibe is not kind, he is not helpful, he is cruel, I don’t want to get to know him. I want to forget him.”

“I hate Rohan Kishibe. I hope to never see him again.”

Rohan paused, looking away from your pages, trying to focus on anything else for the moment.

“W-well, I’ll just fix this last paragraph and erase it from your mind. You’re being dramatic, I’m not as terrible as you describe me.” Chuckling to himself, he tries to laugh off his obvious pain and attempts to regain his composure.

“No! I won’t let you erase my emotions!” You shouted, a wave of Hamon spreading through his arm as his pen touched your page, his attempt to rewrite your memory foiled.

The mangaka was sent flying back, his right arm dropping the pen and your face finally shutting closed, returning your ability to move. Although you were upset at the betrayal of trust you gave the man, you felt a twinge of guilt in your heart when you spotted his still form draped across the wood floor, cradling the arm you had burned with your Hamon.

Running to his side, all thoughts of malice left your body while you attempted to get a better look at his injury. His arm was still intact thankfully, but it was badly burned and needed to be set correctly and quickly if he ever wanted it to heal properly. You took a deep breath and turned Rohan over to see if he was still conscious.

“Oh god, Rohan I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” Your eyes fill with tears again as you see the artist weakly rest himself against the wall, still holding his arm close to his chest.

“No, no it’s alright. I brought this on myself. I accept that.” He grimaced, trying to take a peek at his injuries but too frightened to actually check.

“You read my thoughts and history, it wasn’t right but you didn’t physically hurt me. I don’t know how that happened, but I promise you I’ll fix it.” You swore to the manga writer, now searching through your backpack.

When you found your pair of scissors, you went into full first aid mode, removing the sleeve from his right arm by carefully cutting the loose cloth off. After tossing the short sleeve to the side, you cut the bottom of the skirt you were wearing off into a long bandage-like shape of clothing and ran it under the cold tap water from the kitchen sink, returning to the injured Rohan.

“I’m going to wrap your arm with this, it won’t be painful if you let me use my stand, but I’m going to ask you first before I use her on you.” The man nodded, accepting your offer to erase the pain.

“Under Pressure. She’s a stand that has the ability to manipulate emotions. She can change them within a radius or focus on only one individual. When she focuses on a single person, she is only able to change their emotion to the opposite of what is being felt.” You began to wrap his arm, nervous about what he might feel when you placed the wet fabric loosely around it.

All Rohan could do was bite back his lip to avoid making any embarrassing sounds. Instead of the immeasurable pain he imagined to come with dressing a freshly burned wound, he felt a wave of euphoria. He now understood what you meant by the “opposite” emotion would be felt.

The artist never knew wrapping his burned arm would feel so good, every touch caused his breath to hitch in his throat and his eyes to water. It confused him, even though he understood that the opposite of pain was pleasure, it still startled him every time you did one more pass of the homemade bandage.

He tried his hardest not to be flustered, but when you finished off his arm by tieing the last bit with a knot, he let a small whimper escape his lips. His hand shot up to cover his face, it’s hue now a bright crimson.

Your cheeks turned bright pink as well. You turned away swiftly, to avoid eye contact.

“U-Um just stay put. I’m gonna borrow your phone for a second and let you catch your breath.” Scratching the side of your cheek, you stand up and make a b-line for the phone, dialing your home and hoping that Josuke would pick up. You glanced at the clock set on the wall, it read 8:15.

I’m late.

As soon as the phone line rang once, you spotted the front door to Rohan’s manor fly across the main hall. Peeking your head out from the kitchen, you see a furious Josuke with Koichi in pursuit.

“ROHAN-SENSEI! WHERE IS MY SISTER YOU CREEP?! SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HOME 15 MINUTES AGO!” He yells out, his voice echoing throughout the home.

“Josuke! I’m here! I was just about to call you. Listen, I messed up bad and hurt Rohan. He’s in the kitchen bandaged up but I need you to heal him all the way.” You run to Josuke, giving him a tight hug while trying not to cry from the stress of the situation.

Josuke squeezes you once and let’s you go, looking you over from head to toe so he could make sure you weren’t injured as well. When he spots your torn skirt, his aura radiates a dark malice you’d never seen him show before.

“Wait Josuke! I did this to myself, we didn’t have bandages so I cut some cloth.”

He looks you over again and sighs heavily, the purple hue that was full of rage, leaving him.

“Ok, fine. Where’s that jerk? I’ll fix him up real quick so we can go home.” He grumbled, following you into the kitchen.

Even though Rohan wanted to refuse any treatment from Josuke, he finally accepted the help when you threatened to cry on the spot. His arm had returned to its previous state, unburned and fully functional, thanks to Josuke and Shining Diamond.

Josuke picked up your backpack and held the now fixed front door open for you, while Rohan stood and waved goodbye. You awkwardly returned the wave and made your way back home, your thoughts chaotic and confused.

On the one hand you felt guilty for putting Rohan through such an immense amount of pain, but you were also upset at the humiliation he put you through by reading your life with Heaven’s Door. These thoughts plagued your mind as you laid your head to rest for the night.

~

It was roughly two in the afternoon when Rohan Kishibe knocked on your front door. A short but older woman answered, complaining about the loudness of the knocks when she looked over the artist.

“Oh, my apologies. You’re that Rohan Kishibe my kids talk about. How may I help you, Mr. Kishibe?” She asked with a warm tone to her voice, leaning against her door frame and smiling up at him.

“Is y/n in? I’d like to deliver this to her personally.” He spoke softly, shaking the box he held in his hands.

Your mother couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. He appeared to be anxious and uncomfortable, most likely it was his first time gifting something like this.

“She’s not home yet, but give her five minutes. Why don’t you come in? You can wait for her up in her room, just don’t go raiding her drawers or anything.” She joked, Rohan’s cheeks turning vivid scarlet.

“I’m only pulling your leg, sweety. I know you’re better than that. Now come on! Have a seat at her desk and I’ll bring you up some lemonade.” Rohan followed her inside.

When they reached your room, Mrs.Higashikata opened the door and waved her hand to your desk seat.

“Pull up that chair there and I’ll be back with some refreshments.” Her smile gleamed at him. She walked off to the kitchen, leaving the artist alone in your room.

Rohan browsed around your room, taking in the personality that was apparent by the many bits of decor that gave your little private space a peculiar style. Your walls held photos printed on Polaroid film, sketches presumably drawn by you, and posters of your favorite video games and shows.

When he glanced around your room, he was immediately caught off guard when he spotted two volumes of his very own manga, propped up and on display in your bookcase. To say he was flattered was an understatement, he was completely floored. You were a fan of his?

His heart was heavy all of a sudden, he felt a dreadful pain in his chest while he held the book in his hands. He turned his head toward the doorway when he heard your voice greet your mother. To regain himself, he quickly skimmed through the pages of the manga he was holding, hearing your distant conversation come to an end.

You entered the room. Dropping your bag at the corner of the closet, your eyes never leaving Rohan while you take a seat on your bed. The mangaka gently placed your copy of Pink Dark Boy back in its original position, turning around now to face you.

“I’d like to humbly apologize for my abhorrent behavior and actions yesterday. I was terrible. I know it might be asking too much of you, but I brought you this as a peace offering. I want us to start over. I’d like to get to know you the right way.” He passes you the box he was carrying with him, nudging you to open it.

Casually unknotting the bow and removing the lid from the bottom, you slowly lift what appears to be a white sundress out of the box. It was beautifully made and looked to be just your size.

“I know it’s not the skirt you tore, but I felt like you deserved something a little more unique.” He averts your gaze quickly when you attempt to gauge his reaction.

The mangaka appears to be flustered, apparently not very used to apologizing. His eyes held a fear of rejection but also a glimmer of hope. A breath you never knew you were holding was released with a quiet hum.

“It’s beautiful, thank you, but do know that buying me things isn’t going to repair my trust in you. We can at the very least start over though.”

Rohan smiled to himself, thankful for your empathetic nature, and nodded a quick yes.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, how about we take that dress and enjoy some tea at the cafe? My treat.”

[huggybearsunshine]

You Look Like Mine

Another finale fix it cause I can’t help myself. Takes place after 15x19. There is no 15x20.

There was a silence so heavy that it felt almost suffocating as the two men and the red-haired witch watched the immobile lump on the floor in horror. Then suddenly, a loud inhale shattered the quiet and a set of wild, blue eyes scanned over the room.

“Sam?” a gruff voice pushed through a set of chapped lips as those blue eyes blinked fiercely, “And Rowena?”

“Hey, Cas,” Sam sighed as tears threatened to fall from his eyes, “Welcome back.”

Rowena stayed oddly silent, offering a small smile as her only greeting.

“Where is…” Cas tried to sort his thoughts, but luckily he didn’t have to try too hard.

“He’s…” Sam’s eyes drifted off, toward something over Cas’ shoulder.

“Cas,” a sob rung out, the voice drawing Castiel’s attention instantly, head swiveling around until… there.

There he is.

Dean’s hand seemed to grasp at the familiar tan over coat on its own accord as the other hooked his neck, eyes searching deeply into the other man’s as if he didn’t trust it yet.

“You’re okay?” the hunter’s voice cracked.

“I think so, yes,” Cas looked down at himself as if to check before his brows knit together and his gaze returned, “How am I here?”

“Turns out I’m not so good at goodbyes…” Dean shrugged like that should be explanation enough, “Especially when it’s you.”

The elder Winchester cleared his throat, realizing how close they were and that his hands still clung to the newly rescued Angel like he might disappear.

“The how isn’t important- can you stand?” Dean asked and pulled him up carefully as the other nodded, “What’s important is that it worked-”

“But Dean…” Castiel’s hand gripped his as a serious expression clouded his joy, “Cosmic consequences..?”

“We’ve handled them before…”

The answer seems to take Cas a moment to process, but his grip loosens, “But Jack- what if he-”

“There’s a lot to catch you up on-” Sam spoke up as he stepped closer to the pair.

“Not here…” Dean added, resting a hand on Cas’ back, “Let’s get you somewhere that isn’t this damned dungeon… I’ve had enough of this room for one lifetime…”

Sam stepped to Cas’ other side to help and Rowena opened the door for the group as they made their way to the library.

“I don’t understand why I’m back…” Cas’ voice came out small and broken, “I fulfilled my purpose…”

“The fuck you did,” Dean came to an abrupt stop, almost causing Sam to trip from his side of the weakened Angel, “Cas, you can’t keep thinking your purpose is to die for someone else.”

“Dean-” Sam tried, but the eyes that turned to him were warning him to stop.

“You weren’t there,” the elder Winchester ground through his teeth.

“Yeah, so you’ve said,” Sam bit back but with less venom than his brother, “You haven’t said much else other than that for weeks…”

“Please don’t,” Cas broke the tension with his plea, “It’s been so quiet… I find I am… overwhelmed.”

“Of course, Cas,” Sam shook his head, anger dropping instantly as they made their way into the library and Cas was eased into a nearby chair.

“You’re drenched in… empty…” Dean commented absentmindedly, avoiding Cas’ gaze, “You need a change of clothes.”

He stood to go retrieve some for him but a hand clasped around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes locked with Sam’s for a moment before falling to look down at the connection.

“Samual,” Rowena finally spoke up, “Why don’t you go get a change of clothes and I’ll find a towel…”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam agreed gently with a nod toward the other two men.

Once they were alone, Dean turned agonizingly slow and sank to his knee.

“Dean, I… find I am at a loss for words…” Cas finally spoke after a thoughtful silence, “I didn’t plan on what to say after-”

“After telling me you love me?” Dean tried for levity but failed as his gaze dropped from Cas’ eyes to his chest and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Yes…” Cas’ voice tried to fail him, but he pushed through, “I’m sorry, Dean, I never meant-”

“I grabbed some of yours cause mine would be huge on him-” Sam strolled in holding a pile of clothes, Rowena close behind, shrugging as though she had tried to stall him.

“Great,” Dean said flatly as he grabbed the clothes from him and turned back to Cas, “Think you can walk?”

“Yes Dean, I feel fine-”

“Good,” the hunter replied before taking his hand and guiding him from the room once the Angel was on his feet, “Can’t expect him to change in the middle of the library…”

“Take this too,” Rowena offered the towel gently.

Dean nodded before sweeping past her and disappearing into the washroom down the hall.

Once inside, he froze with his back to Cas.

“Never meant what?” he finally asked, starting to move again.

He situated Cas against the sink and began cleaning his face and neck with the towel.

“To hurt you,” Cas finished his earlier statement, “To leave you…”

“But you meant what you said?” Dean had frozen again, eyes locked onto the porcelain sink before chancing a glance at Cas.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas responded sincerely.

A breath pushed slowly from Dean’s lungs and for a moment, it looked as though he might pass out, but then something steeled in his eyes.

“You love me,” he said it more as a statement than a question, but Cas answered nonetheless.

“Yes, Dean.”

“Shit…” the hunter breathed out, that same look crossing his face again like he might black out, “How long?”

“How long have I been…”

“Yeah,” Dean hurriedly clarified, “Yeah, that…”

“Oh…” this seemed to actually perplex the Angel, “I really couldn’t say for sure…”

“You never said anything…” Dean scrubbed the towel over Cas’ hair, seemingly moving on auto pilot at this point.

“I didn’t want to say anything when I did, but it was the only solution…” Cas commented, pulling the towel from Dean’s hand and dropping it into the sink behind him, “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable… or ruin our friendship.”

“Not happening,” Dean replied without hesitation.

This caused Cas’ head to tilt as he searched the hunter’s eyes, “You haven’t said what you are feeling…”

A slightly hysterical laugh escaped Dean’s mouth before he could stop it, “How much time you got?”

“For you?” Cas asked softly, knowing he didn’t have to finish the statement for his point to register.

“Cas,” it’s the softest he’s ever heard his name spoken and sends a chill down the Angel’s spine, “I… I feel…”

“You do?” there’s a spark of hope in Cas’ eyes as he stepped closer.

“It isn’t just you…” Dean gives him a pointed look before needing a change of atmosphere, “Now take your clothes off…”

Cas is the one who freezes this time, pulling a laugh from Dean as he notices.

“Not like that, Cas-anova,” he quipped, nudging his shoulder into the other man’s, “You actually need to change your clothes… I’ll step out of the room…”

“Dean,” Cas looked suddenly panicked.

“I’ll be right behind the door,” Dean spoke gently, understanding the trauma Cas is dealing with to some extent, “I won’t even close it.”

Cas nodded after a short hesitation, and Dean did just as he said.

The hunter leaned against the wall in the hallway once he was out of sight, breathing heavily. His hands shook at his side and he couldn’t help but be hyper aware of the sounds Cas’ clothes made as they hit the floor.

“Hey,” Sam approached, offering a welcome distraction, “How’s he doing?”

“He seems okay considering…”

“How bout you?” Sam added as he too noticed that Dean was shaking, “You okay?”

“I have no idea,” is all Dean can force out, rubbing a hand across his face.

The door opened the rest of the way and Cas stepped out, now wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of Dean’s old band t-shirts.

And that is when it chose to fully hit Dean.

“You look like mine…” he hears it, the breathy voice that speaks his thought out loud without permission.

Sam’s breath practically choked him as he looked between the two.

“I am yours.”

[shoyouth]

Hello again! So i have this idea, could i request a hc when mc is being particularly clingy with them? Like, ask to cuddle a lot or backhugs on the living room or when they go about their day, etc? She just feels very needy that day 😂 thank you! And i love your writings so much, it made me smile a lot :)

Hello, my friend! This is such a cute request tbh, ty for sending it in! And aww thank you so much, that makes me so happy to hear 😁💞

napoleon ; he loves it. If you’re not normally clingy, the first time you give him a hug he watches you amusedly, inquiring as to why. But in the morning especially, when you aren’t pulling away from his embrace so adamantly, when you aren’t scolding him to get up but instead linger and return his kiss sweetly—he’s reminded why he loves sleeping in so much, and why he loves you. He could definitely get used to this.

arthur ; will tease you. Instantly. He has that little grin on his face and he catches your hand before you can snatch your hug and leave, and he pulls you right back in to his hold. Though he really is all bark and no bite; the second he has his hands on you, his touch is feather-light, his warm arms circled around your waist delicately. He actually basks in your open affection-days, and he becomes so so soft and he hums in your ear and sways back and forth. He needs it just as much as you. On certain days he may be more playful and return your affection twicefold; one kiss to his cheek leads to him pressing his lips to both of yours.

mozart ; you’ll be hard pressed to get him away from the piano, peeking your head through the door or lingering around behind him. He may feign exasperation at your ‘insistent silent cues’ that you want affection, but he readily turns around on the bench to let you sit with him, his lips pressed against your temple. Once you’ve had your fill, he’s softened up as well, and he’s nonchalant as he says he would not mind if you just stayed and wrapped your arms around his shoulder while he played “if you’d like.”

leonardo ; when you throw him pouts across the library, he can’t help the chuckle that rises in his throat. He’ll close his book and make his way over to you, nuzzling his nose against yours softly as he jokes that you can hardly be away from him. Again, leonardo sleep often just like napoleon, so he really doesn’t mind when you want to cuddle. He’ll sleep with you anywhere but if you have qualms about napping on the hallway floor, he’ll make the effort to clear his bed (only his bed, the rest of the room is still a godforsaken mess) for the both of you to cuddle comfortably, faces towards each other and playing with each others’ fingers.

vincent ; all you have to do is give the word and his paint brush is set down and his arms are open. You either cramp yourselves up super close on his couch or you go to his favorite spot on the hill and lay in the grass. Vincent gives super warm, comforting hugs (theo can vouch for him), and he smiles so sweetly as he holds you against him. He fixes your hair and asks about your day absently, and you may hold hands as you talk or—on more mellow days—you interlock your pinkies as you watch the clouds.

theo ; he’ll be in the parlor reading poetry or talking to arthur when you come in and sit so close beside him you’re practically on his lap. He pauses to protect himself from the stutter lodged in his throat, and his eyes cast to you. At your innocent smile, he simply sighs; he knows what you want. He places his hands on either side of your waist and hoists you into his lap, his arms caging you against his chest. If arthur makes any comment he grumbles and glares, but it’s just to protect his dignity when a pink flush crosses his cheeks (all the while you just smile). Affection in front of the others always flusters him a bit, but he always plays it off and acts suave—he secretly loves it.

issac ; if you ever were to surprise him with a back hug out of the blue, oh boy. He will sputter and choke, whirling around with big eyes. He may huff defensively that you shouldn’t surprise him like that, but the feverish flush of his cheeks shows you that he’s not mad at all. Though it may take some time, he grows to love your surprise affection on your clingy days, especially when he gets too stressed or focused about teaching or tinkering. Also a major sucker for the intimacy of close embraces like dazai and arthur, where he caresses your cheek and kisses your forehead—it relaxes and reassures him a lot.

dazai ; this sly dog can instantly read when you’re clingy, but he won’t do anything until you tell him. Everytime you’re glued to his side or brush against his arm, send him needy looks—he just smiles and asks if you’ve eaten or read the book he recommended. When you finally cave and tell him, for an odd moment he will remain quiet and not do anything, maybe have you just follow him. But once you’re sat down somewhere more comfortable, he’ll turn to you and gently take you in his arms, similar to arthur, and just hold you. His fingers will card through your hair, and it’s only when you silently beg for affection that you are able to draw out this soft kind of intimacy from him.

jean ; like issac, he isn’t much of a fan of the surprises. I don’t think he’d ever come to love it though because he’s afraid of how he’d react—would he feel threatened and pull his sword on you? What if he hadn’t drank enough that day, would he turn on you? For this man’s guilt-ridden heart, please initiate affection slowly. He’d love the soft handholding while you walked and talked, or the hand on his guiding arm. As he grows more comfortable, you could initiate gentle but firm hugs or sitting in his lap, and like arthur, he would end up needing it more; he will melt in your hands with his face pressed against your shoulder, your fingers running through his hair. It helps him forget and feel loved in time.

comte ; quirks a brow at first, a soft smile crossing his lips at your inquiry. He’ll cup your chin in his hand and kiss you gently, assuring you that he is all yours and he is only there to fulfill your every desire (“Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast begins playing in the distance). He’d gladly let you latch yourself to his arm while he traveled the mansion, but he throws his tasks out the window quickly to instead sit in the gardens with you, admiring the landscape with his arm securely around your waist. At times like this, he feels very happy in a mellow sense; your affection helps him forget that he’s immortal, and that he can share moments so intimate like this with you.

sebastian ; quite honestly you’re both cooking in the kitchen when you slowly intertwine your fingers with his empty one on the counter. He pauses in reading the recipe to look to you for an explanation, but you’re nonchantly getting the ingredients together. Sebastian is observant, and so I think he would quickly understand that this is your silent confession of being needy, so he’ll just smile and press a kiss to your cheek before continuing with his work. He will try his best to leave your hands connected while you work, or return to your hold as quickly as possible if the task requires both hands.

shakespeare ; your shows of needing affection may have to be more subdued if you ever want a desirable reaction. If you come on too strong or lively, he will only use poetic words to answer your actions, his eyes flashing as he’s on guard, for you couldn’t be that happy to see him, could you? But if you’re more mellow, perhaps kissing the inside of his wrist or ghosting your touch along his neck, he may shiver and crumble. Such intimacy! Mayhaps you do hold such love for him in your heart of hearts, and he’ll gloss his lips down your forearm to kiss your inner elbow to show his own desire.

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash. 

Prologue     Chapter 1  

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times.  Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.  

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his  eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared,  momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their  dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

 *

 The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket  he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with  ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.  

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had  finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now,  Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall  to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

[ssscentral]

serotonin | for ara

Summary: He loves to rile you up - and you let him every time.

Pairing : Jungkook x female reader

Genre : Fluff, Romance, e2l (but not really), Established Relationship

Warnings : Kissing - nothing else

WC : 1.5k

Member : Lillia & Rid || @moccahobi​ & @taegularities​

A/N : HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR MAKNAE @heejinnien!!!!!! I hope your birthday is an amazing one! Some of us (@tae-cup, @hoebii, @jinings, @voiceswithoutlips, @biaswreckme, and @xiaokoo) have created a few collaborative pieces for your birthday! So take some time to celebrate and relax with our fun (and most def not quickly put together) fics! We love you so much and are so glad to be friends with you! May this birthday be an amazing one!!!! 💜💜 - Lillia

Jungkook was the epitome of hard work. If there was anyone you would’ve named as annoyingly competitive at your school, it would’ve been him - sarcastic, fierce, smart, always trying to up you whenever he could.

The science lab that you both shared was always an intense business, and the class knew how the whole lab would be punctuated by the teacher deciding which of you was more correct as soon as you and Jungkook entered the room. The semester had started one month and a half ago, but the whole team of teachers had taken note of the mess that the pair of you were. From trying to out correct each other to vying for the TA’s praise, the competition between the two of you was something that made everyone gawk and laugh at. This lab was no different.

It was a simple class to help you start familiarizing yourself with tardigrades before you did experiments on them later. You were simply tasked with drawing them and documenting the development of their eggs, but you didn’t think even such a thing could turn into a full-on war between Jungkook and you.

“So, if you look closely, some of you might have pregnant tardigrades under their microscope. The person who spots them and manages to document everything correctly, will get some chocolate from me the next time,” your teacher encouraged you, always the nicest sweetheart of your college.

Curse Jungkook’s superior art skills because even though both of you had pregnant tardigrades, it was like comparing a toddler’s hard work to something that belonged in MOMA.

“Teacher…” Jungkook shot you a knowing look after interrupting more of the teacher’s praise of his diagram.

“Yes, Mister Jungkook?”

“Well, you see… I know you expressed a want to hang up the diagram… but I honestly don’t feel like it’s the best I can do. Especially since Y/N knocked my elbow a few times and even scribbled something on my paper. I mean, I tried to make the scribbles look like part of the diagram… but I know I could do better. Could I try to redo it for extra credit?”

“Miss Y/L/N. Did you really try to ruin his work?” 

You floundered some and glared at the lying Jungkook, “N-no! I mean I did bump into him, but when our chairs are so close together, it is bound to happen! It wasn’t to try to sabotage him.” 

The teacher’s eyes narrowed before she nodded at Jungkook and continued on with the lesson, her better nature taking what you said as truth… as it was! That “bumping” was simple brushing him… that you might have intended, but still! Not maliciously! When the teacher’s back was turned to you and Jungkook, you sent him a glare, to which he smirked back before focusing on the teacher again who was pointing out more details about the tardigrades that needed to be added to diagram labels. 

And although the lesson was still not over - technically - she spoke up as soon as you and Jungkook handed in your work. “Perfect! As promised, Mister Jeon and Miss Y/L/N may leave earlier - you worked hard today again!” your professor announced, clapping her hands and spurring on the rest of the class to do the same - you could clearly see how annoyed and unmotivated your classmates were, and it made you chuckle.

Grinning back at Jungkook, you put the strap of your bag around your shoulder, knowing that he’d follow you very soon. He always did. The corridor was empty, the classes still going on as you heard his faint footsteps behind you. You rolled your eyes - no matter how many times you beat him in class (even if today, you only beat him by answering more stuff correctly), he’d always stay right next to you.

You walked in silence for quite some while until you stepped out into the pleasantly warming sun, the fresh wind grazing your skin and playing with your hair softly. There was a park you’d always go to, one that belonged to the campus, but mostly stood empty despite the large number of students at your school. Most of the students spent their days flitting between classes and fulfilling last minute assignments and they barely had time to look or go to the park that was ever so slightly out of the way from the other, less cool, outdoor spaces your college offered. 

Considering the fact that beautiful flowers and plants bloomed on the grounds of the small park, you felt like the students who never cared to visit were stupid and oblivious to the park’s amazingness. It was a perfect place to study, relax or spend time with friends, and now that you were released from your last class of the day, you didn’t yet feel the urge to go back to your dorm room yet. You approached a bench, your bench, directly next to the swing set.

As you almost reached it, still aware of how close your rival was, Jungkook suddenly grabbed your wrist to pull you close to him, his face just inches away. Trapping you in his arms, his eyes wandered to your lips.

“Aren’t you tired of following me around all the time?” you asked with a bratty smile, throwing back your hair as you awaited his answer.

“How could I ever?” And without a warning, he pressed his lips against yours before you could even give him your devilish smirk that he loved so much.

That was bound to happen, you knew it, and you relished in the intense feeling his careful touch gave you. He kissed you gently and with so much unsaid emotion that you tried to match, enjoying the soft touches of his hands against your body and the feel of his firm body under your hands. All of this, you both and your secret relationship, had started not long ago. Always the bantering couple that the school loved so much and you had long been selected as the ultimate OTP - something that meant one true pairing nowadays, many students asking if the class rivalry had ever become more.

As he kissed you, mouth moving against yours tenderly, softly, affectionately, the excitement in your body increased, wanting nothing more than to stay here in the empty park with him forever, pressed against his chest. In his arms with your lips locked together, nothing else seemed to matter. Not his insane art skills or who outperformed the other in class or grades. It was just the tender kisses and touches of him.

When he let go, stroking your cheek with his fingertips gently, he smiled endearingly. “Seeing you all riled up and motivated to beat me is so hot.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you pushed him away slightly, but his hands on your waist stayed stubbornly, firmly holding you in his grip as he laughed at your expression. “Good that you think that. I just can’t believe how much fun you have annoying the hell out of me in front of our teachers.”

“You’re the cutest when riled up,” Jungkook said with a smirk.

“And I can’t believe you said that I scribbled on your diagram today! We are stooping to lies now?”

Jungkook laughed lightly, one of his hands traveling down your arm to hold your hand. “Well… You got all pink when I brought up the bumps. I enjoyed watching you flush. You’re just so cute, Y/N.” He pinched your cheek as he said the last words.

What? You blinked slowly, a robotic laughing coming out of you. “Jungkook. I love you… but don’t do that again.”

“What? Can you repeat? I didn’t hear?” Jungkook’s ears were pink as he looked at you hopefully, his eyes glistening and shining as he spoke.

“Don’t do it again.” 

“Nooo! What was the first part? I wanna hear it again.” He whined and squeezed your hand tightly while bringing it up to his chest. 

Mimicking a deep thought process, you pursed your lips and scrunched your brows together. “No. You’ve not been a good boy.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in shock as his lips parted wordlessly, his hand going slack in yours. Laughing excitedly, you quickly removed yourself from Jungkook, set your bag down, and started off away from him.

“You might have to catch me to get me to say anything more!” you shouted when you were only a meter or so away, quickly catching Jungkook’s attention once again.

Even from how far away you were, you saw the tell tale competitiveness flow into him as he raced off after you. A squeal left you when he came closer and you quickened your pace, but it was no use. Jungkook was so much faster and stronger than you and before you knew it, he had swooped you up in his arms and spun you around.

“Tell me, you love meeee!” Jungkook whined childly as he set you down, pouting at you as he started to pepper your face and neck with soft kisses.

His kisses tickled you, and he enjoyed that every single time. “I-I lo-love yo-you!” you managed to squeal out before once again, he was kissing your lips.

“Good, because I love you too.” 

[writers-worst-nightmare]

Midnight Pleasures:

Pairing(s): Hinata x reader

What: smut

Warning(s): 18+, minors DO NOT INTERACT FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, out of character Hinata, a LOT of cussing, me forgetting what the collab was about and having to smash it in the fanfiction in one sentence Because that’s cool

A/N: this is a rich boy collab with @bakugohoex

Word Count: 3,416

Page count: 9.7

Glossary:

y/n = your name

y/f/c = your favorite color

Summery: Hinata is a sub and y/n sucks him off

You weren’t a strange type of person! You weren’t strange at all! In fact, you would say that you where absolutely totally normal. But some people beg to differ.

They say how you will never get a man looking like that, or that you will never get far in life. Or how it was out of hand to want nothing to do with what people where talking about. It wasn’t your fault that you had literally no clue what was going on around you. You had no clue at all! You where like a lost puppy dog fleeing from it’s owner only to realize that the outside world was so much more curt and disgusting.

You didn’t have a lot to say to anybody in school, if you had anything to say you usually shut your mouth. Knowing the school they would probably just discard you as trash or a simp for somebody.

Simp

You hated that word

***

“HEY HINATA!!!” You looked up from your book to see one of your classmates, Hinata, swivel his head away from a TV screen. The screen was playing a volleyball game, but the person holding the remote quickly changed it back to professional ice skating. You looked up and glued your eyes to the screen, watching at each player skated with ease and smoothness. You ice skated also, and got pretty well known in ice skating, but you never thought twice about it. Once you where on the rink, your feet just got the best of you and you skated with little to no thoughts running through your head. The thoughts that usually hammered at your skull and then got almost infused in your brain stopped. Simply because you where ice skating. You loved the feeling of your skated skimming against the ice and the cheers of murmurs from the crowd.

“Y/n…aren’t you coming?” Hinata inquired, you looked up and saw the orange-haired boy stand in front of you. His arms reached out.

You had never been invited to something, especially someone by someone who is as well wealthy as Hinata. You smiled softly and accepted the hand that Hinata gave you.

It had been a rough year in high school for you, and you didn’t even want to go back to middle school drama. So you hoped that college would bring something out in you. Would bring you hope and fulfill your dreams that you had. To not only be the girl who ice skates but the girl who does something. The girl who never gives up, the girl who stands up for people, the girl who—

your thought where rudely cut off by Tanaka, a old friend of yours ramming his head into your chest. You fell back with a Yelp and rubbed your head slightly.

“God fucking dammit Tanaka! Would you leave her alone?!” Hinata spat at Tanaka, the bald male looked taken aback. When he was in high school he didn’t even cuss once (ok well maybe once or twice, but it was very rare for the boy to cuss).

“What are you? Her boyfriend?!” Tanaka challenged, you picked yourself up and began to open your mouth to argue but Hinata again interrupted you.

”So what if I am?!?! What’s it to you, Got a little crush on my girl?” Hinata countered, his brown oak eyes narrowed.

“Why don’t we all just calm down?” You suggested, placing a gentle hand between the two arguing boys. Of course they didn’t listen to you but instead kept on arguing. “WOULD YOU TWO JUST STOP IT?!” You screeched pushing both of them in the opposite direction.

Bout boys stared at you with wide eyes before Hinata awkwardly coughed to break some tension.

”Fuck off.” You sneered at Tanaka, suddenly feeling a overwhelming protection over the orange-haired boy. You wrapped gently hands around Hinata and dragged him away from Tanaka.

“Wow that was amazing y/n-Chan!” Hinata said in pure awe, you shrugged your shoulder and stared ahead. Not making eye contact with the male.

“It’s nothing, really,” you responded. “And also what the hell was that girlfriend thing about?!” You added, Hinata’s face blew up in a blushing mess before he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the ice rink. Since the college that you went to was known for ice skating a lot of business owners thought it was wise to build a bunch of skating rinks around campus (and they where right to think that).

Once the two do you got to the skating rink Hinata sucked in a breath and pulled out a silver necklace that had a one skate on it. You furrowed your brow in confusion, looking at the silver necklace and looking at Hinata and back at the necklace.

“Don’t worry, you can take it!” Hinata reassured, placing the necklace in your hands. You gasped in shock as you stared at it more closely. Beautiful diamonds laid it on the skate. You put on the necklace, and smiled at Hinata.

“Thank you Hinata!” You exclaimed before hesitating. “But…why did you get me this? I am just a girl that goes to your college…” You asked.

”I admire you…” Hinata confessed before seeing your confused expression and continuing on. “I admire that you have a lot to say yet still keep a pocket face, some people may see that as a weakness but I don’t think it is…” You stared wide eyes at Hinata before tears started to prickle at the corners of your eyes.

“I love you…” you said as you higher Hinata tightly. Hinata hesitated before hugging you back. Curling up into the male of your neck and whispering.

”I love you too princess…”

***

That was how Hinata confessed to you, it had felt right for you. It had felt like the stars aligned perfectly.

You laid on the couch, relaxed and in a comfortable position where anything can happen. You where watching this new anime called Demon Slayer that Kiyoka recommend to you. Saying something along the lines of his hot the guys where. Honestly, you didn’t get the hype, but it was pretty entertaining and you didn’t have anything else better to do then to study and actually get work done so why the hell not? Little did you know a little short orange was about to attack you. That little short orange going by the name of Shoyo Hinata. He was annoying as fuck and you didn’t want him around. “BOO!” Hinata screamed on the top of his lungs, you jumped in fear and pulled out your knife and got ready to stab somebody. Your breath coming out in short puffs as you stared at the chocolate eyed boy.

“You shit head! I was at a scary scene!” You hissed, slapping Hinata on the back of his head like Tanaka’s Mom did to him from time-to-time when the team was over at the angry males house.

“Sorryyy!” Hinata wined, rubbing his head slightly as he mumbled some cussing under his breath. You rolled your y/e/c eyes before staring at the blonde again.

“What do you want?” You asked, annoyance filling your voice and clicking your judgement slightly. The screams of Tanjiro still ringing from the TV.

“Well I had this ADHD burst of energy and I will want to bake a cake but I can’t do it alone because if I do it alone then I will make a mess and then I will clean it up and then I will start cleaning and then—“ Hinata kept on rambling about this whole chain of effects that would happen if you didn’t bake with him. You rolled your eyes and stared him straight in his bright electric brown eyes. You paused for a moment, thinking of ways to shut the male up. An idea popped in your head as you smirked and grabbed the back of Hinata’s neck and drawing him towards your lips. Leaning in closer and kissing his slightly puffy lips. He was wearing the same cherry chapstick that you commented that smelled good before you noticed that Hinata liked you. You always guessed that this was a way for Hinata to get you to notice him. The fight for dominance went on for a few minutes before you took over and pushed him on his back against the couch. The boy gasped between the kiss, his eyes started to water a little at the sudden reaction. Before things to get out of hand you broke the kiss and smiled at Hinata. Keeping a poker face on as you pulled away and swiped away the drool that was connected the two of your mouth’s. You giggled a little, a cocky smile dragging across your face.

“Shut up…” You leaned in and whispered into Hinata’s ear, biting his ear lobe a little and giggling a little as Hinata choked back a moan that was forcing it’s way up his throat.

“Y-yes ma’am…” Hinata whimpered submissively, his lip quivering slightly as you let go of his ear and going towards the dorm room kitchen. Hinata followed you like a lost puppy dog, he would be a good little puppy. You chuckled slightly at the joke that you made up in your head.

“What type of cake do you want to bake?” You prompted, getting the pantry open and seeing what cake mixes you guy’s had and if you needed to go get in a car and drive to the gas ration at this God forbidden hour.

“Oooh chocolate!” Hinata cheered, a childish smile plastered across his face as he bounced up and down. You chuckled and looked across the pantry to see if you guy’s had any chocolate.

“Well,” you started to say, smacking you lips and staring at the pantry with a disappointment look on your face. “Crap.”

“What?”

”We don’t have any chocolate cake mix.”

“Shit.”

You closed the pantry door and went towards your dorm room to grabs out jacket and skateboard. “Wait dude, did you customize your skateboard?” Hinata asked in awe as he stared at your My Hero Acadmia inspired skateboard that had Deku painted on it. You nodded your head ‘yes’ and fully pulled on a y/f/c hoodie.

“Yeah, I started customizing skateboard’s.” You answered Hinata’s question fully and explained it. A smile on your face as you glanced back at the dark-orange haired male as he ran to grab his yellow hoodie and skateboard. His skate board looked plainer then yours but that is probably because he used it more then you did. You smiled brightly at Hinata before going outside of the dorms. Hinata spoked followed and the two of you started skating down the street.

”We should do this more!” Hinata exclaimed, a playful smirk on his face as he started to do more tricks on the skateboard. You laughed at Hinata and started video him for a tiktok. The tiktok was of him singing the lyrics of Alien Boy and having a blast of his time.

“You’re such a dork…” You scoffed as you stopped recording the tiktok and editing it. Not even having to look up to know the way where the gas station was.

“Can you send me the tiktok?” Hinata requested, you looked at him and gave him a ‘are you serious?’ Look before agreeing with a nod of your head and sending the tiktok to him the moment you posted it. You guy’s started to skate more, trying to impress the other by doing some more tricks. But soon, you got to the gas station and stopped the both of your skateboards and set hem down on the outside red brick wall. You and Hinata imminently went to the candy section and got some chocolate box cake along with some different flavors of monster. You bought for everything.

“Did you get everything you where looking for?” The cashier asked, looking at the two of you and smiling tiredly.

”Yeah we did, thanks!” You chirped, getting out your card and paying for the stuff. Hinata grabbed the monster and opened it up as you guy’s grabbed the skateboard the started heading out the front door. Laughing at dumb jokes that you guys cracked with each other.

Hinata and you started following the directions, baking the cake and putting it in the oven and setting the timer for a hour. “There!” You declared, pumping your fist up in the air. Luckily you guy’s could be as loud as you wanted due to the fact that it is Spring Break and everyone went to there parents house. Well everyone but you and Hinata. Your parents never wanted you to begin with, from the very start, they made it very clear that they didn’t want you. So why would you want to got there? Of course the team knows this. The plan was that everyone in the team (and some nekoma people) was going to stay so you won’t have to to alone in the dorms but everyone seemed to have plans.

Some model had a book signing contest so Kuroo just had to go catch up on that, he seemed to be very upset to at he left you and promised that he would call you every night and FaceTime you for hours upon hours. Well, you checked your phone every second it seemed for the past two days and still no sign of Kuroo.

Suga’s parents got into a fight and they got a divorce so Suga had to go home for that. He didn’t seem to sad or caught up about it, although, you swore to yourself that you heard sobs coming from Suga’s dorm room after he told you over text that he couldn’t stay. So far he has texted you every once and a while and checked on you, made sure you where taking care of yourself.

Kiyoka was going to a party and didn’t really seem to care that she was leaving you alone. Not that she was petty or anything she just never seemed to mind if she dropped her plans when they involved you. She gave you a couple of drunk text but nothing more and nothing less.

Tanaka didn’t talk to you about the thing, he said he would be there for you but he left you alone so you didn’t know where he was. Although, from what his Instagram story told you, he has in Disney with his family and having the time of his life.

Yachi got her first new hit for a album of her song covers and needed to leave you. It was very emotional and you could tell that she didn’t want to leave you alone but she had to since her family was struggling and she wanted to make them proud.

But Hinata stayed with you, the whole time, there was not a time that you thought ‘oh, Hinata isn’t going to be there for me’ or ‘oh, I can’t count on Hinata to be here’ because he always was and he always will be right by your side. Ever since the two of you where kids and Hinata got his first volleyball, you still remember that day, he went to hug his best friend but but the friend didn’t want a hug because the kid claimed volleyball was for kids. He cried for hours and hours in class and (from what you heard) in his own home. Refusing to hug anybody until he got into middle school and you came along. You guys had known each other due to your parents working together in the same hero agency but you never started building a friendship until middle school. A lot of people say that relationships end in middle school but I reality. That is when Hinata and yours started to bloom.

“Remember when you first got your volleyball?” You popped up, laughing a little as the tips of Hinata’s ears turned a flush red.

“HEY I THOUGHT WE AGREED TO NEVER TALK ABOUT THAT!” Hinata pouted, crossing his arms and trying to be mad at you.

“Oh ok…I am sorry…” You whispered in a pretend hurt voice, knowing full well that Hinata will come crawling back to you once you had the slight hurt tone in your voice.

“Wait no! Baby!! Come here!!” Hinata exclaimed, wrapping you in a warm hug, you burst into laughter and hugged Hinata back. Feeling bad for the brown eyed male for the millionth time in your life (no but like seriously, how did this man get you to feel bad about everything?)

“Its fine Hinata.” You reassured the worried man with some pats on the head and a kiss on the forehead. Hinata smiled innocently at you before pushing you against the couch. “Oof!” You gasped as you felt he fabric press against your back. Hinata smirked in accomplishment.

“GOT YOU!” Hinata declared proudly, trying to pin you down on your back. You cocked your left brow up slightly upwards and flipped you and Hinata over so you where on top and he was on bottom. Hinata whined and bit his lip, eyes looking at you in a pleading sort of way. You smirked seductively and leaned down to kiss Hinata. Your lips crashing with his, biting the male’s slightly pink lips to ask for entrance (which he obeyed instantly). You slipped your tongue into the wet cavern of Hinata’s mouth and started exploring every inch of it and sucking on his tongue a little bit. Hinata moaned into the kiss and started grinding his body against your pants and whining like a submissive bitch. You chuckled darkly and brought your hand to mess with his hair before yanking his hair and making him break the kiss. A string of saliva connected your two mouths and you just swiped it off and shoved your fingers inside of Hinata. Smiling slightly as he gagged.

“Want me to suck your dick slut?” Your horse whisper sounded in Hinata’s ear as you bite his ear lobe and tugged on it slightly. Hinata nodded his head ‘yes’ before letting out a string of moans. You smirked in accomplishment of breaking the presumably top male who flirted with all the girls at school. You pulled down Hinata’s sweatpants and boxers in one Swift motion all while keeping eye contact with him. Going down on your knee’s you opened your mouth and started sucking Hinata off. Your tongue swirling around his head as you slowly started going deeper and deeper until you felt it go to the back of your throat. Once you felt that your head bobbed up and down, Hinata moaned loudly and threw his head back in pure pleasure. Mumbling out praises and barely forming a sentence. You smiled to yourself as you reached down and started rubbing circles along your clit, you tongue almost lolling out to the side of Hinata’s dick at the pleasure of hitting the sweet spot.

“You’re such a girl girl yeah you suck my dick yeah you suck that dick so well yeah you do…” Hinata managed to say before moaning loudly again at the sight of you touching your self and sucking him off. He is in complete heaven. You felt Hinata’s thighs tense up around your head and you stared up at him. Expecting him to say something. “I’m gonna cum…!” Hinata mumbled out before moaning again and letting his sex face out. You moaned around Hinata’s dick and that caused both of you to cum at the same time. You guy’s where a panting mess on the floor. Hinata had his legs spread wide and your head was all fuzzy and not cleared out with good thoughts. You guy’s stood there, a few comfortable in the air as both of you where a shaking mess. Soon, you got up and carried Hinata to the other corner of the couch and grabbed a large fluffy gray blanket along with some large pillows. On nights like these, Hinata liked it if you took charge in the aftercare stuff. Not even letting you two get changed until the morning. You smiled warmly at the goofy male who laid there on the couch, almost fast asleep, while you played Death Note (he says it is to scary so you like watching it when he is asleep or cuddling with you).

“Hey baby?”

”What’s up orange?”

“Did we ever get that cake out of the oven?”

”…”

”…”

”Shit.”