#hands you a blunt. one of those conversations. man you know what sucks? i have never known i was wanted until years down the line

[chaptersleftunwritten]

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie…

Blurb: During a smoke session Eddie is betted $100 that he won’t be able to sleep with you by the time summer rolls around. He proves them wrong.

Pairing: Dickish!Eddie Munson x Virgin!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Gambling, depictions of sexual content, mentions of drugs being taken, cursing, alcohol consumption, graphic descriptions, a lot of emotional damage in this one… Characters are 20+ college students.

-

Ethereal fairy lights doused you and Eddie in a golden hazy glow, both of your bodies glittering magically with sweat as your naked limbs entangled each other in an intimate embrace.

But something between you two was forever changed after that night of steamy heartfelt affection and you felt it like a knife twisting in your sternum as you listened to Eddie leave your dorm room without a goodbye. Not even a kiss as he pulled his ripped jeans over the skin of his still damp legs and ran.

You were never one to fuss. You never wanted to cause a scene or create an issue that never existed in the first place- you were ‘the cool girl’… but when your gut is unable to move on from something then you must investigate. You had to, why else would Eddie have left so suddenly if there was nothing wrong?

You gave yourself to him. You showed him not only your nude body, but you bore your soul to him. No one had ever gotten close enough to you to be as privileged as he was. No one had saw you so exposed. So vulnerable. Until him.

Unbeknownst to Eddie at the time, you had allowed him to take your virginity. You trusted him with your entire being and you believed that you truly loved him. You loved him enough to bleed for him- to hurt for him…

And after he fled that night, you laid on your crimson stained sheets and sobbed yourself to sleep. You can’t blame him for not knowing- but you also prayed for some tenderness from him. Even if you weren’t a virgin, sex is such a sacred act and aftercare should always be incorporated.

The following morning you awoke to an emptiness you’d never experienced before. Something had shifted and your innocence was gone. Girlhood was over and adulthood fucking sucked.

-

- Steve’s off campus apartment, 6 weeks prior -

-

The tip of the meaty blunt embers brightly with every drag Eddie takes, his eyes are almost a florescent shade of red and Steve is on his seventh beer of the night, “C’mon man, that shit would be so easy.” Steve laughs, his Adam’s apple bobs prominently as he tips his head back to down the rest of his alcoholic beverage.

“Nah, not interested.” Eddie passes the joint to Jonathan who has almost been swallowed up completely by the beanbag his body is submerged in.

Steve gasps mockingly as his hands clasp together to crush the empty can of beer before he tosses it across the room- aiming for the trash can which he has already missed the past seven times… “I didn’t peg you as a chicken, Munson.” His fingers snap open another can, “Are ya scared or somethin’?” Steve’s eyebrows wiggle at Eddie and Eddie proceeds to drag his hand down his face, already tired of the conversation… or maybe it was just the weed settling into his system.

“I’m not scared, Harrington. I’m lazy. There’s a difference. Besides, what do I get out of it instead of a possible cream pie?” Eddie huffs a laugh, accompanied by Jonathan and Steve’s eyes spark with relentless mischief.

“If you put it like that…” Steve stuffs his hand into his pocket, rummaging around inside of the fabric before pulling out an array of objects. They consisted of a stray button, a small foil packet containing a condom and two $50 bills. He picks up the crumpled currency, slamming it in front of Eddie with a cocky grin splayed handsomely across his face, “A hundred bucks if you manage to bang her before summer.”

Steve knew that if he wanted to convince Eddie to do anything, he had to pay up. Whether it be drugs, booze or money, he knew if those three things were involved Eddie could be easily persuaded to do most things. And unfortunately… Eddie agrees.

“Fuck it, why not.” His hand slaps into Steve’s hard, the noise quaking through the small room as they shake on the agreement. This wasn’t the first time that Eddie had partook in some stupid shit suggested to him by Steve and Jonathan. He had done some crazy things before; jumping off of a roof into a dumpster (breaking his arm in the process), setting fire to his clothes just so he could test the ‘stop, drop and roll theory’, taking ecstasy before a rave (which led to him having a severely horrible psychedelic reaction) and the list goes on and on.

But this… this was a whole new level of low for Eddie. He knew it was wrong, but he just couldn’t let Steve win. His stubbornness would be the absolute death of him. Or so he thought…

“By summer! That’s… what? 7 weeks? Think you can tap that by then, Munson? Or is that not enough time…?” Steve was too confident, he could see this whole shit show going up in flames and he rejoiced in the idea of Eddie being the one having to pay up by the time the weather was its warmest.

“You’re fucking on, Harrington.” The words leave Eddie’s mouth in the form of a venomous competitive bite.

And just like that, the bet was confirmed.

-

The news arrived in the flesh form of Nancy Wheeler. Jonathan could never keep anything from her- he was sick with love and the guilt of the whole ordeal was eating him alive. He knew he would get the end of Steve’s wrath but he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to confess. Your only wish was that Nancy had known sooner. Before the damage was already done.

Your world was spinning on a side way axle when Nancy told you, and it has been spinning upside down ever since, “I can’t believe how moronic they all are! I’m so sorry you had to find out this way…” Her voice is washed out by a ringing that has taken over all of your senses. You were good at disassociation when it came to protecting your feelings- and that’s what you were doing. Nancy had no idea that you had totally zoned out whilst she continued to rabble on about how Steve had changed and how disappointed she was in Jonathan. Your mind was completely numb to all emotions and information.

You hadn’t heard from Eddie since that night… and now you understood why. Your gut feeling was proven right once again- but you weren’t glad this time around. You weren’t relieved like you usually were; you were hurt.

And you were fucking angry.

Still with a week to spare Steve coughed up the money, making Eddie $100 richer- but that couldn’t amount to what he had lost. Eddie was a player, you knew that from the very start- but you stupidly thought that he was different when it came to you. That you could somehow change the way he thought about relationships.

It was clear to you now that you never stood a chance against Eddie Munson. You never did.

Your first initial instinct is to confront him and Steve face to face, but something was holding you back. Was it fear, rage, agony? You didn’t know, but what you did know was that they already thought you were a joke, why would they take you serious now? The answer is, they wouldn’t. They would chew you up and spit you right back out. Their punchlines would be thrown at you and each one would knock the air from your lungs— you were a laughing stock to them.

The thought alone makes red hot tears streak from your mascara painted eyes, the corners of your lips stealing a taste of the salty liquid as it fell. Nancy had long gone and you decide in that moment that you weren’t going to class today. You couldn’t stay on campus grounds, each passing second intensified the crumbling of the hole in your chest, now so big and gaping that you feel as though your heart may just fall from its cage and land on the ground in front of you. Unbeating. Dead.

You walked until your legs turned to jelly, causing you to collapse on a nearby sidewalk. You were in a unrecognisable neighbourhood. Some of the houses look pristine from the outside, freshly coated paint that was clearly done annually, fences held securely together with the best knuckles and bolts and on the other hand, some of the homes looked like they are over three decades old- gutters filled with rancid leaves, unwanted ivy climbing the walls, windows so dirty and murky you wouldn’t be able to see inside unless you were inside.

The setting sun litters the sky with flaming clouds coloured the brightest shades of orange, pink and purple. You smile up at the visual, momentarily forgetting about the inner turmoil that has caused you to drown your sorrows in straight vodka and cigarettes.

“Oh, Eddie.” You cry and toast to the sky, bringing the clear vodka bottle back up to your lips, throwing your head back and gulping down as much of the pungent liquid as you possibly could stomach. The strong taste momentarily numbing your mind. The only thought that was cartwheeling through your intoxicated brain was why?

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Why you? What was so challenging and intriguing about sleeping with you? Why not some other girl? Anyone else. Anyone but you.

More tears, less salt in your body- water replaced with alcohol. Your mind fizzes with warmth and your body is slowly shutting down on the edge of the road. Luckily, it’s quiet at this time of night. Everyone is at home with their families, tucking into some home cooked goods. You wish you were at home- you wish you had never left state to go to that stupid fucking college in the first place. You could have avoided this. Avoided him.

Your fingers twirl in the holes of your laddered tights, pulling on the fabric and watching the tear travel from your thigh down to your knee- which you only now register is bleeding. You must have fallen earlier, scuffing the skin pretty badly… but you can’t remember.

Blank spots taking over your memory? You’re nearly there. You’re nearly free of him- free of this day and of this shell which you call a body.

You just need to keep drinking. Finish your second bottle.

“What the fuck?” The voice is nearly enough to pull you back from the darkness, but your vision is blurry as you focus on the misshapen figure hovering above you, “Jesus Christ! You’re a fucking mess- what are you doing? Where have you been?” Eddie has no right to be angry at you, he caused this, but you’re putting your well-being at risk and he is disappointed in you. He thought you were smarter than this- he would rather you attack him, scream at him and hurt him back. But not this…

You’re nearly paralytic.

He had been searching for you all day, surfing through crowds in the canteen, asking around classmates and even speaking to randomers in the street.

Then he found you here. Cold to the touch. Anyone could have found you in this state, if it hadn’t been him… he doesn’t even want to think about what could have happened to you.

“Can you stand?” He asks gentler now, worry lacing itself through his voice and choking his voice box slightly. You bury your face into your hands, finding comfort there you breathe out an inaudible ‘no.’ Your breath whiffs back into your face and your nose scrunches at the scent. Pure alcohol. It’s nearly flammable.

Eddie sighs before scooping your frail body up from the ground, your fingers loosen and you end up dropping your bottle. The glass shatters all over the concrete, “Shit!” Eddie snips but you don’t even flinch at the ringing sound of broken glass- you’re too far gone.

“Do you even recognise me?” Eddie holds your sleep stricken face in the palms of his hands, forcing your gaze onto his softened features. You hum happily at the feeling of his cold rings pressing against your warm face, you feel as though you’re sweltering but in reality.. you’re icy to Eddies touch. There’s a moment he contemplates taking you to the ER, “You’re freezing, love.”

“You d..did this!” You hiccup, your finger jabbing weakly at Eddies chest. Your fingertip may as well have been a knife because Eddie’s heart sinks to his stomach as he holds you upright, knowing he drove you to this is sickening to him. He almost vomits… but you beat him to it.

He holds your hair back from your shoulders, “Let it out, honey.” With Eddie’s free hand he rubs your spine, his words of encouragement echoing through your empty skull.

“I hate you.” The sobbing arrived suddenly, causing your entire body to tremble. You’re beginning to feel the temperatures of outside and Eddie knows that he has to get you home quickly- despite how hurtful your drunken words are.

“I know.. I know you do.” His deep voice is strangled with sadness as he guides you over to his van which is parked across the street from where you had nested on the sidewalk, “I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” You don’t respond, you just shake your head at him. Unable to bring up the words. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

Eddie’s grip on your shoulders is strong as his fingers stab into skin. You keep stumbling over your own two feet, your face would be hitting the ground if it weren’t for Eddie’s strength.

Your palms slam against the metal of his van door, steadying yourself there before Eddie helps lug you inside. You want to kiss him as he reaches over your body and belts you into your seat but you don’t- not because you wouldn’t but because you couldn’t. You feel as though you’re now unable to move your body- your limbs weighted down as you puddle into the musty passenger seat that wreaks of stingy weed with a twang of old booze.

You wonder how many girls have been in here before you, how many others had him and Steve ruined? You close your eyes to stop more tears from escaping, you have cried a river tonight and you’d much rather be numb now.

Cascading light etches it’s way through the smudged glass of the van, illuminating the inside just enough for you to see Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together in what you can only assume is either frustration or concentration.

One of his hands is secured on the steering wheel whilst his other arm is draped over your idle body- his attempt to try and keep you sitting upright and not accidentally smashing your face into the dashboard. If you weren’t so angry at him you would mould into his touch, but nothing can fix what he has broken.

Nothing.

His voice vibrates through the stuffy air and you wish you could make out what he is saying but you can’t. Your tired eyes are heavily lidded and your ears have totally switched off as you slump further into your seat, your head tilting back slightly as you drift in and out of consciousness. Your body is aching for rest. You just need sleep- this will all be so much better in the morning…

-

You don’t understand how or why you wake up in Eddie’s Hellfire t-shirt but your investigative skills narrow it down to the taste of vomit in your mouth and the aspirin that has been left on Eddie’s bedside dresser alongside a tall glass of water.

‘Take this, I’ll be back soon. -Ed’s’ A note reads in sloppy handwriting, signed by Eddie. You would roll your eyes if your pounding headache wasn’t causing them to screw shut- why is it so fucking bright?

You blindly take the pills, the water cools the acidic tinge plaguing your throat and you gasp for air after chugging the entire glass, your cotton mouth leaving you still thirsty for more.

You’ve no idea what time it is or where your clothes are so you can get dressed and bolt before Eddie gets back. For some pitiful reason you’re not surprised that he went out and left you alone. It’s what he’s good at- making a mess and then running away.

Your exhausted body pushes itself up from the springy mattress. Every muscle in your body sore from laying in one solid position the entire night but thankfully the pain medication is starting to kick in for your headache.

Just as you manage to swing your legs off of the bed you hear a door slam shut, your body naturally jolting at the sound.

“It’s just me!” Eddie yells from a far off room and you feel panic begin to compress your chest, like a can being crushed until it’s flat. You’re too sober and hungover now to face him. You need to get out of here and as soon as humanly possible!

You contemplate taking on the window, but there’s no way you would be able to hold your own body weight right now. You would probably plummet to your death if you tried. So what do you do instead? You sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the bedroom door in horror and anticipation- awaiting your nearing fate. Which soon arrives in the form of a chocolate eyed man, his hair tied back messily into a ponytail and in his arms he holds a tray, “Good, you’re awake.”

You silently curse at the way your heart beats faster at the sound of his sweet voice.

Offering him nothing but a tight lipped smile your eyes fall curiously to the tray he is holding. Did he..?

“I made you something to eat,” he advances further into the room, stepping over loose t-shirts and clothes that have been discarded without a care onto the floor, “I know food is the last thing on your mind right now, but if you want to feel better you need to try and stomach something.” He places the tray next to your bare legs on the bed, his eyes flicking the the skin before back to your face.

He palms at the back of his neck nervously and you examine the dry toast on the plate, next to it is a blob of strawberry jelly and a chunk of butter, “I didn’t know if you’d like anything on it so I just kinda left it up to you.” He smiles at you and you nod in response, leaving the food untouched.

“You undressed me.” The thought makes you want to heave into his trash can. Unless he had done it with his eyes closed, which you doubt, that means he got to see your body again. Touch your skin again. He doesn’t deserve that.

“I.. uh.. you,” he coughs lightly to clear his throat, “You threw up everywhere. All over yourself… I didn’t have a choice.” A redness warms Eddie’s cheeks and you suck in an exaggerated breath, your lungs feel as though they are struggling to breathe.

“Right.” You nod, your eyes scan the room for any sign of your own clothes, which you’re unable to find. Eddie notices, “They are in the wash. Your clothes, I mean. If you’d like a pair of pants I can rummage around for you?” He walks over to his wardrobe and you can’t help but watch him. He is moving feverishly. He is anxious and he’s rambling.

“Your tights were pretty ripped up, you must have fell before I found you. I washed them anyways but I don’t know if they are salvageable.” You look to your knee, finding a massive bandaid stuck to the skin. You remember that part- you bleeding and falling. You don’t remember Eddie bandaging you up, though.

“Thanks.” Even in despair and rage, you remember your manners. This all only proves how much he is able to be a true gentleman- and how much he really must have gone out of his way to purposefully hurt you. It makes your eyes sting. If you hadn’t cried so much last night you probably would be able to muster some tears now- but you’re bone dry.

“Listen.. I.. I don’t know how to say this”, Eddie is cautious as he sits down next to you on the bed, ensuring to keep a good amount of separation between the two of you, “How I feel about you is real. Everything that came from our short time together is real, lovie… and.. and I’m a fucking idiot.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, his throat clearly parched, “I won’t stop apologising, I won’t stop hating myself for what we did- for what I did.” His fingers twitch with need as Eddie contemplates reaching for your hand, but he ultimately decides against it, “I’m sorry.”

Your thumbs twirl with one another, your nail coming to pick at the sensitive skin around the cuticle, “You’ve really hurt me, Eddie.” Just when you thought the tears wouldn’t come, they do, “I can’t believe you made a fucking bet over me. I.. I’m not just some toy you can play with and then throw away when you’re satisfied. I’m a human being! And I’m mad at you.. I’m so mad!” The words squeak out as you let yourself feel everything you’d bottled up over the last few days. The mountainous emotions that you’d let fester deep within exploded through the floodgates.

“You’re such a fucking dick, Munson! I hate you right now!” Your breathing hitches as you struggle to control your breath, “I hate you..” The words are meek and small but they have their desired effect as Eddie’s heart becomes like melted wax in his chest, and it hurt for him to even breathe.

You meet Eddie’s gaze, tears were swimming in his honey brown eyes, but his face was rigid with focus, “I need some time away from you. I can’t.. I don’t want to forgive you right away.” You sniffle hard, your hand coming to paw at your soaked eyes, “What if you’re lying to me again?”

Plump pink lips part on Eddie’s face and he stands up momentarily, only to drop to his knees in front of you, “Let me prove it to you then. Let me make it up to you, please.” He begs, his hands resting on your bare knees and his soft touch shouldn’t scorch you but it does, “I’ll do whatever it takes, sweetheart. Anything to earn your trust again.” He desperately searches your face and you feel your shoulders slump in defeat. It’s so fatiguing to be so upset, “Please.” He repeats, his voice is a light choke.

You nod with a sigh, your hand clasping over his, “Okay.” You breathe, your mind clearing as your tears dry, “But I need time.” You repeat, the venom in your voice dissolving with every second you look at him.

Eddie nods in approval, a teary smile finding his face which he tries to bite back, “Time. I can work with time.”

You smile half heartedly as Eddie presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling his nose gently to your own, “Anything for you, Princess. Anything for you.”

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000

[maya-19]

Discussing kinks with daddy Price?

Price x reader.

kinks

You’d always been open and honest with Captain Price. He knew this too. 

You were sat in his office. He was lecturing you about getting into a bar fight again.

“There’s no point is there?” A small smile tugs at his lips as he fails to keep serious expression, knowing you’ll end up in another bar fight.

You grin, your cheeks dimple. “It’s not my fault men look at me and wanna see if my boobs are real.” You scoff rolling your eyes. You’re wearing a white tank top that fits your breasts, tucked into a pair of grey sweatpants.

He sputters on his whiskey and coughs trying to recover. “You good cap?” You lean forward on my forearms, against his desk.

“Y-yeah yes. I’m okay. You’re just blunt sometimes. Catches me off guard I guess.” He smiles sheepishly. A tint of pink covering his cheeks

“Ah. Is captain blushing?” You tease him.

“No I’m not. Shut up.” he grumbles, making you grin even more.

“Aww. It’s okay cap. You look cute all blushing and flustered.” You wink playfully.

“God what am I going to do with you.” He sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“Not ask if my boobs are real?” You stifle a smile. Then a wicked grin etches across his lips.

“Maybe I should. Are they real?” He raises a brow, leaning forward. His blue eyes slide down to your chest then back up to your fiery gaze. A smirk plastered on his lips.

“Yes they are. Why. Do you wanna feel?” You counter, a devilish glint of mischief glittering in your eyes.

“No thanks. I can already see enough.” He whispers, his voice low and gravelly. His tone sends tingles down your spine.

You feel your nipples tighten against your tank top. His gaze follows it and a darkness arises in his blue orbs.

Then you get a devilish idea. “Cap. Do you have any kinks?” 

“I don’t think I should be discussing those with you.” He rolls his eyes. He looks uncomfortable but also interested, though he tries to hide it.

“I’ll tell you one if you tell me one.” You flash him a smile, your green eyes sparkling with desire.

He meets your gaze once more, as if contemplating whether he should engage in this inappropriate conversation.

“Fine. Make it quick then.” He grumbles but fails to hide the excitement in his eyes, feigning indifference.

“I have a daddy kink.” You smile.

“A daddy kink? Really?” He asks interested as he leans forward.

“Blame the daddy issues for the messed up kink. But being called princess or babygirl turns me on. And calling a man daddy is hot.” You shrug nonchalantly.  “Of course only if he’s older. Like 35+. Calling someone younger than that daddy is just silly.” You grin.

“What if the man doesn’t want you to call them daddy?” He asks, his blue eyes studying you.

“I don’t go for men who don’t like it.” You smirk knowingly.

“What’s your kink then?” You lean back in you chair, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I have a dominant/submissive kink.” He tells you. His fingers tap his muscular thighs, hugged by his cargos. God those fucking thighs.

Your gaze drifts back up to his. There’s a sudden shift in the air. The sexual tension undeniable. 

“I like being submissive.” You whisper leaning forward.

A smirk tugs at his lips. He runs a hand down his face as if contemplating to stop before this conversation leads into uncharted territory.

“Hypothetically speaking, what would you do to me? If you were the dominant and I was the submissive?” You ask, desire thick in your tone, low and husky.

He intakes a sharp breath. “I’d bend you over on this desk,” He murmurs, placing his palm flat on the desk. “And I’d fuck you from behind.” His voice is deep and demanding.

Your breath hitches. You suck in a breath. Arousal swimming in your core. You clench your thighs together.

His gaze drops to your thighs, his eyes darkening. Then back up to your hardened nipples and then your lips.

“Id spank your ass raw for walking around in a top like that. Where any man can see your nipples.” He continues. His voice dark, thick with restrained desire. Like he’s caged a beast wanting to be let out.

Your nipples tighten, begging to be touched. To be fondled and trapped between his lips. Your cheeks flush, excited as to where this conversation is going.

“Do you have a daddy kink captain?” You smile amused.

“Maybe.” He whispers. His eyes trained on yours.

You suck in a breath and stand up, leaning forward on your hands flat on the desk across him.

“How much lower?” You whisper. His gaze drops to your breasts pressed together.

“Lower.” He mutters, holding your gaze with a carnal desire that swims in his blue eyes.

You bend lower till your back is arched, and your ass is jutted out. You look at him through your lashes. Lips parted. His breath grows ragged as he stares at you. Unwavering.

“Lower.” He rasps. His voice sends your senses into overdrive. You lower until you’re bent over on his desk. Your breasts pressing against it. Ass up.

“Spread your legs wider y/n.” He whispers gravelly. Your knees tremble as you spread your legs wider. He stands up and walks around the desk. Standing right behind you. 

“I’d grab your hips like this,” he murmurs bringing his hands to my hips. His hands rough and big. “And I’d make sure I left marks all over your ass.” He rasped.

Your breath hitched and you pushed back, silently asking him to. But he chuckled softly, a dark desire within his tone.

“If I do that Princess, then I won’t stop till I’ve fucked that sassy attitude out of you.” He growled in your ear.  

“So do it.” You whisper, voice thick with anticipation and desire.

He pulls down your sweatpants. Without warning he draws his flat palm back and spanks your ass. You gasp suddenly, your toes curling.

“Do it again.” You breathe out shakily. Your pussy throbs, the ache between your thighs begging to be satisfied.

“Such a dirty little girl.” He grunts, this time your lurch forward suddenly with the rough hit. You whimper quietly, spreading your legs wider on instinct.

But the spanks weren’t enough. One after the other, you craved his touch. Between the wet folds, dripping down your inner thighs with a throbbing ache.

He unbuckles his belt. You swallow and look over your shoulder. His eyes on yours, as if knowing what you wanted. You lick your lower lip in anticipation and hunger as he curled the buckle around his fist, and uses the belt to whip your ass once. You gasp suddenly and let out a drawn out moan. Your hands gripping onto papers, scrunching them needing something to hold.

He whips again and again, you cry out. Your pussy is throbbing, juices leaking down your thighs. Then he moves the belt under and between your thighs. He flicks up upwards against your folds and lightly slaps it. Your juices squelch under the belt. He turns you around, lifts you up and sits you on the edge of his desk easily. He brings the end of the belt between your bodies.

“So wet y/n. So desperate. Is this what you want?” He rasps slipping the end of the belt between his lips and sucking the wetness off it, all while staring into your eyes. He pulls it out and lightly slaps your soft cheek with it. 

You blush crimson, the sassiness already leaving your body. Temporarily of course.

“Fuck me captain. Please.” You whisper shamelessly. Needy.

His blue eyes darken. He cups your face and kisses you harshly. Rough and hungry. You moan into the kiss and clutch his shirt and lock your bare legs around his hips.

You unzip his pants and shrug them down. “Don’t get greedy.” He kneads your breasts and pinches your nipples. Swooping down he sucks one in his mouth. His teeth grazing over it.

“Captain please.” You whimper throwing your head back gripping the edge of the counter.

“Get on your knees Princess.” He grunts standing back and pulling you towards him, pushing your shoulder down, making you sink down to your knees.

You look up at him, eyes wide and innocent. He coaxes your mouth open, gripping your hair and pulls your mouth to his cock.

“Suck my cock Princess.” He tells you, his voice low and gravelly. You hold his muscular thighs that you’re disgustingly obsessed with. Your hand palms his cock a few times before your tongue swirls over the tip, where his pre cum leaks down his length. You’re lick the under side of his cock upwards and hollow your cheeks sucking the tip.

“Oh fuck baby, just like that. Take me deeper. I wanna fuck your pretty mouth.” He rasps throwing his head back as he pushes his hips forward. One hand clutches his thigh, the other massaging his heavy balls. You moan, the sweet sound vibrating against his throbbing cock. You take him deeper till it hits the back of your throat and you gag.

Tears sting your eyes as he grips your hair tightly. “Breathe through your nose.” He guides you and you listen, doing as he says and it helps.

“That’s it baby.” He groans starting to fuck your mouth. Hitting the back of your throat every time. Your vision is blurry in tears, you moan hollowing your cheeks sucking him harder, squeezing your lips around his cock. He moans, his eyes screwed shut. Satisfaction fills your core as you look up at him, your head bobbing back and forth.

“Such a good girl y/n, sucking daddy’s cock like that. Fuck you look so pretty with your mouth full.” He groans his hips slamming into you. His balls hit against your chin as your suck his cock.

He’s fucking your mouth harder and roughly fisting your hair as he thrusts. You gag on his cock, your eyes teary and cheeks hollowed and red.

You feel his thighs tensing under your hands.

“I’m gonna come Princess. I’m gonna come down your throat.” He groans, a deeper moan slipping past his mouth. His cock twitches and after a few jerky thrusts he comes in your mouth.

“Mhmm.” You moan swallowing every drop and milking his cum.

“Such a good girl.” He praises lifting you up and putting you on the desk, standing between your parted legs. You look down and see his cock is already hard again, salivating at the sight of the angry veins and the leaking tip.

"Now you're gonna come baby girl, you're gonna wet my cock." He growled attacking your lips with a ferocious kiss, sucking your tongue hungrily. Remnants of your juices on his tongue from when he sucked the end of the belt that was covered in your arousal. he dives deeper and swirls his tongue around yours, as if wanting to taste his own cum and how it mixed with his saliva, both of your tongues fusing with erotica and passion.

He grips your hips, pulling you closer. He rubs his cock up and down your soaked folds before sliding in without effort from how wet you are. His cock fills you up to the brim, making you draw out a guttural moan, your head rolling back and you fall back on the desk. "Nghhh, please, please don't stop." you whimper and moan breathlessly. Your breath choppy as he bottoms out and slams his hips into yours, driving deeper and fucking you till you're shaking. your legs wrap around his back, the heels of your feet digging into his firm ass.

His strong hand grips your throat and he chokes you while he grunts and fills you up roughly. "Take thrust every thrust fucking thrust inch." he commanded between thrusts, your eyes rolling into your head. You're ass digging into the desk but the pain is bearable, pleasurable even as he fucks you relentlessly.

And then your quivering and your body spasms and twitches, both of you close to your climax. "Come for me. Come all over daddy's cock." he groans and throws his head back as his thrusts get more frantic and jerky.

After a few more thrusts you cry out in pleasure. "Ohhhh daddy! im coming. I'm coming... coming. nghhh. fuck. fuck." you let out a string of unintelligible moans as he watches your face contort with pleasure and ecstasy.

"Ohh fuckk milk my cock, you're strangling it." he grunted as he came in hot spurts of cum, filling your tight pussy with his release. he slumps forward, letting go of your throat and pulls you up by his hands around his lower back and you bury your face in his neck. "Mhmm that was amazing daddy" you whispered panting, your hot breath against his neck.

"Oh yeah? you're such a dirty slut y/m, you came all over my cock." he teased in your ear and nibbled playfully

[meanwaffle]

Safety (Tsukishima x Reader)

Warning: alcohol, hu culture

Notes: college party moment

You sipped on your drink as you couldn’t take your eyes off the tall, handsome, blonde man across the room. He was chatting with some guys, but he had a bored expression you couldn’t take your eyes off of. He obviously wasn’t enjoying himself very much and it made you wonder why he’d come to a college party if he wasn’t someone who liked them. Maybe his friend made him come. Or he was trying to get laid. Who knows?

What a fucking jerk.

His name was Tsukishima. You sorta knew him already. It was a month or two ago when you both matched on tinder. Tinder was your best friend after all. It was an easy way to find hot and willing guys to keep you company on those lonely nights. The best part was there were usually no strings attached. You didn’t have to shield your heart from getting hurt, you just gotta have fun and spend your young adulthood partying and vibing. You didn’t have to worry about being vulnerable because it was a quick fuck and done.

Oddly enough when you matched with him and started talking to Tsukishima a bit… you got too vulnerable. It wasn't like you at all.

You found yourself blushing when he complimented you. His blunt charm offered a sense of relief. When he said you were beautiful, easy to talk to, how he felt comfortable with you, this bluntness made you truly believe he was being genuine. Over time, his messages started to become short and dull. When that would happen with other guys you’d just roll your eyes and move on to the next. Stupidly enough you kept sending him messages and continuing conversations or starting new ones. You would hold onto each convo starter like it was a life line.

“You look very pretty.” he told you once in response to a selfie you sent of him.

Ah… you wanted him to praise you more.

You wanted to meet him. You didn’t even care about getting laid, you just wanted to see him in person and maybe… hold his hand or something. Like they do in those romcoms! He was so tall after all, you’re so sure if he embraced you that you would melt into his touch.

“When are you free? Let’s go out to dinner.” You’d ask him. 

“I’m free on weekends! But if you have plans, my classes end at three!” You’d tell him.

“Shoot me a message whenever you’re available.” You’d messaged him.

Nothing.

After talking nonstop for two weeks, the moment you invited him out he changed. Shorter messages. He took longer to respond. Baseless excuses one after another about how he’s busy, that he’ll let you know the second he’s free. Responding to you obviously became less of a priority as you got left on delivered for hours and hours and hours, until finally you remembered why you originally were just sleeping around.

Men really suck.

You’re glad you remembered before you got too attached. 

Enough with all that. Sure it was only a little bit ago, but that was all in the past! Tonight was about having fun! You downed the rest of your drink and mingled in with the crowd once again. Striking conversations left and right, you danced a bit to the music, sang along to the popular songs that got everyone hype. You were having a good time and soon lost yourself in the fun. The alcohol was finally hitting and your confidence skyrocketed.

And there's nothing more powerful than a confident woman with a mission.

“Crap!” You blurted out as you felt yourself back up into someone. You quickly turned around to face whoever it was to apologize. “So sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Oh, that’s alright! No worries.” A fresh, freckled face greeted you. It was a guy, a cute guy. The dark and grayish hair of his went against your usual type, you had a soft spot for blondes, yet his vibe was so oddly kind. At first you wondered what a guy like this was doing at some random shit college party. Though, when his large eyes met yours paired together with a dorky smile all the reasonable thoughts washed away and only one idea filled your brain. 

He was your mission.

With a grin, you tilted your head to the side just a tiny bit to subtly emphasize your good side. You fluttered your eyes in that cute manner that's always gotten the guys to take interest. “I don’t think I’ve met you! Do you go to parties a lot?”

You heard him suck in a breath and held back a giggle. The cute eye technique still hasn’t failed you. He was nervous, huh? “Ah, no, I came with a friend just cuz… I don’t know where he is right now actually. Uh! But I’m Yamaguchi.” A tint of red glowed on his cheeks.

You introduced yourself back and quickly started up small talk. At first he was hesitant, fumbling over his words a bit and avoiding direct eye contact with you. Once you got him on the topic of his hobbies, however, he started to go on and on about volleyball. You had to hold back a cringe when the subject of volleyball took place. You had no problem with sports! But, icky enough, Tsukishima also danced on the topic a bunch of times. You were positive he mentioned how he was on the team at school, maybe Yamaguchi was too. Maybe they were teammates? If that's the case, part of you wants to just run away from this guy.

Hm, well…. Doesn’t matter. It’s just a hookup. Besides after geeking out a bit he got comfortable enough to just… let go. You both were swaying to the music and laughing, you felt up on his arm and stroked his ego as you showered him in compliments and praises. He denied them, of course, he was shy and humble. Following every praise of yours with something along the lines of “I’m not all that.” or “I bet you know much cooler guys.” 

After some time passed the party was still at full blast. Slowly, you intertwined your fingers with his and glanced up at him with big doey eyes. His expression turned to one of surprise and his entire face was heated. You could even see him biting his lip from nerves alone. “Hey…” you said with a breathy tone. “why don’t we go somewhere quieter?”

Yamaguchi flinched and you watched him nervously gulp. “I, um, l-like where? I mean… you know… my friend is still here and if I’m leaving I should let him know-”

With an air headed smile, you tugged at his arm in the direction of the stairs. “We won’t leave! I know the people who rent this place, we can just go up to her room for a bit. She won’t mind.”

“This isn’t your place t? Shouldn’t we uh, ask then?”

“It’s fine! I’ve done this before.” With that said and done, you made your way over to the stairs. Yamaguchi followed close behind, but as you both were climbing up you were so focused on your gleeful success in getting a cutie in bed that you didn’t hear his hesitant mutters, questioning what you meant by “done this before.”

You pulled him into an empty bedroom and didn’t waste any time. You attached your lips to his and passionately threw your arms around him, pulling him even closer so your tits pressed against him. Internally, he was panicking. He’s never had anyone interested in him in this sort of way, especially someone who would act on it so quickly. It was all happening so fast for him, however, he let himself fall into the moment. Yamaguchi’s thoughts were racing. He couldn’t believe a girl like you would want to be intimate with him. The heat in his cheeks got hotter. Your tongue’s dancing together.

Skillfully using some interesting angles, you managed to get both of you close enough to the bed for you to slowly push him onto the springy mattress. A cute yelp escaped his lips with a subtle panic as you climbed on top of him without detaching yourself from his rosy lips. However, instead of him continuing with the sexy thrill of fucking at a party, he pulled back. You were surprised he’d do that, but the concerned look on his face made you question if you were pushing him into something he didn’t actually want to do. “Are you okay?”

Yamaguchi chewed at his lip. Crazy enough, you’ve only known him for a couple hours and even you could tell he does that when he’s nervous. He wouldn’t make eye contact with you, which was another indicator. His body language told you enough. You rolled off him and sat up on the edge of the bed. You bent down forward and softly smiled in an attempt to ease the tension “Not in the mood?”

Like a lightning bolt, he shot up with a worried expression.” No! I mean yes, I mean, I’m nervous, that’s all. You’re really pretty and It’s just a lot-”

“He’s a virgin.”

Both of you two whipped your heads towards the doorway which was suddenly open with a tall figure leaning against the frame. Tall, blonde, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, you couldn’t stop your mouth from opening a bit in shock as you witnessed none other than Tsukishma there with a sharp glare of disappointment.

“Oh god, Kei! How long have you been standing there?!” Yamaguchi, obviously very flustered, spoke first because you were still stupidly sitting on the end of the bed with your mouth still agape from a lack of knowledge to even know what to say to this guy.

With a glance over at you, then back to his friend, he spoke more. “First of all you should’ve locked the door if you’re going to mess around. And I have been standing here ever since you fumbled the whole making out part.” His eyebrow furrowed, which was odd to you. He seemed to be annoyed with his friend. Was he annoyed that his homie was getting laid and he wasn’t? You certainly couldn’t think of another reason. A logical one for sure.

“I was looking for you so we could finally leave, though I saw her chatting you up and then going up the stairs.” He shot another quick glance over at you. “I could connect the dots.” His tone was irritating to hear. It was like he was talking down to you.

You shoved down any desire to stay quiet and spoke up. “That’s so weird, Tsukishima! And what if we kept going. You were just gonna stand there and watch? You’re such a pervert-”

“Wait, do you two know each other?” Yamaguchi asked, surprised.

“You’re hooking up with someone you met a few hours ago.”

You threw your hands in the air. “It’s college! This is what we do!”

Both of you were huffing and pouting like the drunk idiots you were. 

Yamaguchi had no clue what to make of the situation. He was shifting his weight back and forth as he fiddled with his fingers. He kept trying to get a word in, but despite his efforts everything he said fell on deaf ears as both you and Tsukishima kept going back and forth. One petty thing after the other. Tsukishima finally let out a giant scoff and went to turn to his friend. “Let’s just go.” He was thrown back when he realized the friend he was talking to was no longer there. There was just an empty space “Huh? Where did he go?”

“He walked off maybe five minutes ago.”

His nose scrunched up. “And you didn’t think to say anything?”

“I thought the wave goodbye would’ve been enough but I guess I didn’t take into account your lack of awareness.” You responded with yet another eye roll. 

He sharply turned towards the door. “Whatever, I’m out of here.” 

“I bet, ghosting is your best talent.”

Tsukishima stopped dead in his tracks. His hawk eyes gleamed into you with an emotion you couldn’t quite describe. Even so, you could tell he was offended by what you said. “I didn’t ghost you, you ghosted me.”

Your mouth fell agape for the second time tonight. Was he trying to set a record of how many times can he make you gawk at him like this? Who did he think he was accusing you like that! “Are you being for real right now? You started taking hours to respond to me! Yet your snap score was still going up. You were ignoring me and stopped talking to me. That’s ghosting!”

He turned on his heel to face you again. “But I still responded! Every time! Even if it took me a while to get back to you. You were the one who unadded me out of nowhere!”

“That’s my point, it wasn’t out of nowhere! I had a reason. I wasn’t going to waste my time with a guy who didn’t prioritize me.” You crossed your arms. This was not how you wanted to spend your time at this party. You came here for mindless fun, not a confrontation with some ex situationship.

Unbeknownst to you, Tsukishima’s heart rate was increasing at those words. The idea that you wanted him to prioritize you plagued his thoughts. “I thought we were just going to hook up.”

“Huh, yeah, but…”

“But?” You both were maintaining eye contact. It was weird that the guy you thought was just another fail basically interrupted you from fucking another guy for meaningless sex. And now you were both standing here, facing off from each other. One sharp response to the next, even though Yamaguchi left you were still at each other's throat. Truly, one of you should just go separate ways. 

You huffed. “Nothing.”

“You wanted more than just sex?”

“No, geez, I said it was nothing.”

His hand snapped to yours, snatching it roughly enough for you to break eye contact and stumble backwards with a shy gasp. “If it’s nothing then lets hookup, right now.”

You visibly flinched at his words. “Huh? Are you drunk?

“We’re both drunk. That’s why we’re stumbling around.” His grip on you loosened. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s fool around. You were trying to get fucked weren’t you?”

“God, Tsukishima.” You pulled away from him and plopped yourself on the edge of the bed. Tilting your head as you looked at him. “It’d be weird to have sex with you after all this.”

Tsukishima’s mouth curled into a cocky grin. “It’s college, it’s what we do.” You couldn’t hold back an eye roll at his mocking tone. “It’s the time for casual sex. Didn’t you say that?” He leaned back and turned the lock on the door. “See, I can remember to lock the door at least.”

Tsukishima was so seductive and it made your tummy turn as he looked at you with lustful eyes. It felt like he could see through you to your very soul, knowing how at one point you craved for him to embrace you and kiss you gently. You’d fantasized about him inviting you over to his apartment, with a candle lit dinner and red wine poured into those cute fancy glass cups. Then, after you two were done eating, he’d scoop you into his arms and carry you to the bed. Stripping you and leaving trails of love marks to brand his romance into your very flesh. 

But, you didn’t care about that anymore. Yeah, there's no doubt that you are completely over that. You were completely fine with a casual hookup in some random bedroom. This was fine, so you have no reason to disagree with him. 

You exhaled and glanced over at him with your lips puckered. “Alright, it is a party…” a hint of embarrassment sparkled in your eyes “Let’s do it.”

Tsukishima didn’t hesitate. He climbed right on top of you and pushed you onto your back. His hands were placed on each side of your head. You could feel his body heat as he leaned down closer, his lips almost right against yours. “Can I get an enthusiastic yes?”

You were nervous and he could tell. A sheer crimson enveloped your cheeks and flowers bloomed in the depths of your core. You never felt like this with your other hookups, but for some reason the thought of him seeing you naked… even the thought of seeing him naked made your tummy twist and turn.

That’s why this was weird!

But you would sooner die than admit it. “...I want you to fuck me.”

The cocky blonde smiled at you. It was different however, the spiteful and argumentative man you were yelling at earlier was nowhere to be seen, replaced by someone much gentler. It was an emotion you’ve never seen on a man. Usually when you spread your legs for whoever will give you attention they look down on you. They treat each encounter as some sort of game. They were the players and you were a side quest for them to complete. It was a common misconception with most of the men you surrounded yourself with that the harder they fuck you, the better they are at sex. Even when it hurts and you want it to stop, you don’t say anything. After all, fucking you rough gave them power. If you took away their power they’d want nothing to do with you. Men thrived on the idea that they were the dominant one, they were the ones in charge, and you were mercy under their touch. In reality, your fake moaning and exaggerated expressions was nothing more than a manipulation tactic that a single man has yet to see through.

You were nothing but an object.  You let yourself become an object.

You’re so lonely.

Tsukishima’s smile didn’t host any intensity or wrath, because he didn’t perceive you as just something to fuck. Seeing you waiting for him to pleasure you, he wanted nothing more than to please you to the point you’d never sleep with another guy again. This was the only moment he might have to prove to you that he can earn your approval.

He never thought he ghosted you. Henever wanted to ghost you and to this day he remembers the devastation he had when he woke up and saw an X next to your username. He had to play it cool, after all he was on tinder for meaningless sex and a way to kill his boredom. You didn’t simply kill it, you cured it. Talking to you made him flushed. He wasn’t supposed to be like that. He likes to believe it was his pride that got in the way of you two actually working out, but in reality it was his undeniable shyness. When he saw you had sent him a message, an internal panic plagued his thoughts. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t admit he was shy around you, even to himself he never realized that he was just scared to meet up with you or that he’d say something stupid. If he made himself out to be a fool the facade he worked so hard to keep  up with would crumble and he’d be left with nothing.

That’s why his messages became dull and his response time plummeted. 

Tsukishima dove between your thighs. With a free hand, he flipped your skirt up and settled his face right in front of your clothed pussy. You gasped at the realization that he was going to give you oral. Usually, it was the other way around. You didn’t dislike sucking dick and in fact you think you're pretty good at it. “H-hey, you know, you don’t have to do that.” you whispered, a flash of heat filling your body.

Confused, he lifted himself out from beneath your skirt. “You don’t like being eaten out?”

“Well, of course I do, but we don’t have to do all this foreplay stuff. I know men say it can be a hassle-”

“Oh my god.” He huffed and for a split second you were about to snap back at him, yet a warmth spread across your cunt. You squealed, hips twitching. He was licking you over your underwear. No one has ever done that to you before. It was thrilling. You had no idea how something as simple as eating you out was able to make your core explode like fireworks in a dark sky, but Tsukishima was succeeding in it. Hollowing out his cheeks, he applied suction as the wet spot drenching your panties only grew. “Ask me to take off your panties and I will.”

Fuck.

“Take off my panties…”

You’ve never had to ask for anything during sex before. Previous men you have been with just do what they want. Even the shy guys, you give them head and they’re so eager to fuck you that they rush into slipping it in without a second thought of your desires. You couldn’t count the amount of times you had to shout out “Don’t cum inside me!” as the guy would groan in your ear that they were about to cum. Despite that, a good chunk would still cum inside.

You knew it. Tsukishima was different.

You’ve just been surrounding yourself with the wrong people.

You did not want to admit that right now, however. If you did, you’d probably start crying as you accepted that you have been using sex as a self harm tactic to combat the internal hatred you harbor for yourself. At this moment you just wanted to be held and cherished by the sharp witted man about to ravish you. You liked feeling special. He liked making you feel special more. He wanted to pleasure you in a way no man could ever live up to. Plague your mind so that even if you were swooped into the arms of another your thoughts would be full of him. 

Hooking his fingers under your panties, he slid them off. 

He teased you by swiping his tongue up your damp slit. The whimper that flew out only encouraged him to tease you more. A little on the rough side, he started to apply suction to your deprived clit. Electricity bolted up to your brain and then all the way back down to your toes. How does it feel so good? You were confused. Why did it feel so pleasurable? It wasn’t supposed to feel this good, was it?

Your thoughts were drowned out by the sound of your own moans.

Your voice fueled his desire to hear more. Out of nowhere, he began to attack your pussy like he was nothing more than a starved man in the wild. He pushed his tongue inside you which caused you to unintentionally grind your hips against his tongue. More, you wanted more. His tongue slithered around your walls, ripping another cry from your throat. You couldn’t believe you were making such embarrassing noises. You never knew you were capable of such whimpers.

His nose bumped into your clit as he tongue fucked you even deeper. The wetness of his saliva mixed with your slick. His mouth was devouring your pussy and you could tell he was quite experienced. Tsukishima succeeded in his goal, because no man will ever live up to the skill he had with his tongue. 

Tsukishima’s pace never slowed. Up until an intense feeling of ecstasy washed over your entire desperate body, he didn’t let up one bit. You didn’t realize that you were whimpering his name softly under your breath. His dick twitched at the sound and he couldn’t wait to be inside you. It was hard for him not to just take you there and then, but he had an personal obligation to make you cum with his tongue. Strings of curses escaped your lips and he had a front row seat to you cumming on his face.

Not only cumming, however, you were squirting.

Tsukishima lifted his head up from beneath your thighs. You stayed on your back, huffing with wide eyes.  “Was that good?” He asked, the desire for praise more than apparent enough.

You blinked a few times, processing that irresistible new feeling you just experienced. You could see Tsukishima staring at you with a perplexed eyebrow raise. Using your elbows to sit yourself up, you awkwardly smiled. “It was good, really good, I mean I’ve never done that before…”

“You’ve never cum before? Oh wow, you need to pick better gu-”

“No!” You interrupted his misconception. “I never squirted, like that, It’s embarrassing and geez, it’s all over your lips!”

Tsukishima placed his hand against his mouth and rubbed at it with little to no effort. “Oh.” He chuckled at himself, making you smile. “I had a suspicion maybe you liked virgins or something and that’s why you couldn’t cum. You tried to sleep with Yamaguchi afterall.”

“Nothing wrong with virgins.” You retorted. 

He raised his hands in defense. “Sorry, sorry, you fuck a lot of virgins or something?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. “I fuck a lot of people in general.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirked, climbing back on top of you and hooking his arm under your leg. “What’s your body count?”

“Only polite of you to answer first.”

“It’s high.”

“Same.”

After some silence both of you started to smile, trying to hold back laughter. Tsukishima was the first one to break the quiet. “We’re both sluts then.”

Not the first time you’ve been called a slut and it probably won’t be the last, but somehow this charming man said it in a way that was able to turn you on. Happily, you wrapped your arm around his neck and pulled him closer to your blushed face. You scooted downwards just so he had a better angle to lift up your leg even more. “Fuck me like a slut then.”

You did not need to say that twice.

Desperately with his free hand, he tugged his zipper down and let his cock out into the open. You quickly peeked at it, long enough to get a good look at it but not too long for Tsukishima to notice you staring. You wanted to play it cool. 

It was thick. Precum oozed at the tip of his cockhead, twitching with excitement to sink itself into your wet cunt.

He positioned his cock right against your soaking wet hole. Your pretty pussy was fluttering at the anticipation of finally getting fucked by the one guy you had an attraction to outside just his dick. He sunk into you slowly, biting his lip while doing it. You threw your head back with a moan. Your pussy stretched around his hard member. He started to fuck you with a steady pace. He didn’t just start pounding into you, no, instead he kept a stable rhythm allowing you to get used to the thick cock inside you. 

Still, with every buck of his hips that amazing dick of his hit the sweet, spongy spot deep inside your velvet walls. You whimpered and moaned, embarrassingly still trying to keep quiet in case anyone was nearby to hear you. Your shirt was suddenly pulled upwards along with your bra. You looked up to see Tsukishima practically drooling at the sight of your bouncing boobs. It was a sexy sight, they bounced along with the rhythm of his thrusts. He kept a steady arm around your leg and began to speed up his pace. “What a sight.” He groaned, yet the compliment fell on deaf ears as the volume of your cries filled the air.

He rolled his hips, pushing his cock deeper inside you. His heavy balls slapped against you, only adding to the lewd noises your bodies were making. Your pussy was clenching around him. The burning sensation of delight warmed up your cunt and the nerves surrounding your puffy clit were sparkling. However, none of it compared to how intense the pleasure was in your core. His cock was filling you. The friction was nothing less than addicting. 

You let your arms fall from around his neck onto the blanket. You gripped the fabric into a tight fist. The pleasure he was giving you was purely euphoric and you didn’t know how to handle it. Every cry that was ripped from your throat couldn’t be stopped even if you wanted it to. Even now, when his thrusts were getting sloppier and his groans filled your ears. His cock was twitching against your wet walls and the words “I’m gonna cum.” repeated out of his mouth.

You were too into it that the thought of telling him not to finish inside you wasn’t a concern.

Truly, you wanted him to cum inside you.

Thick, hot semen was pumped into the depths of your delicates. Tsukishima’s head rolled back and he let your leg fall against the bed. Your cunt was milking him perfectly that he could swear up and down that his eyes rolled to the back of his head. After he finished cumming, you both took a moment to catch your breaths and process how that was the best sex either of you have ever had. Hoping that the other was thinking the same thing.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Shit, is there a towel, oh crap, it got on the bed.” He looked around trying to find something suitable to clean up the cum leaking from your cunt. You half sat up, fixing your bra and shirt with one hand then pointed to a side drawer next to the bed. “There's a washcloth in the bedside table there.”

He listened to you and reached over, opening the drawer and taking out the washcloth you knew was there. “How did you know that?” He tossed it over to you and zipped his pants back up. You cleaned yourself and pulled your panties back into place. “I’m friends with the people who rent this house. I’ve fucked many guys on that bed.” Standing up, you patted the wrinkles in your skirt flat. 

Tsukishima wasn’t sure what to say.

You could tell you created an awkward moment, so quickly you added onto it. “And out of all those guys you were the best. So, you were right, it wasn’t that weird.”

He smiled. His smile was contagious and you found yourself grinning along with him. “Good to hear. Are you heading back to your dorm? Sounds like the party died down.”

You nodded. “Yep. Gotta sleep this drunk off.”

“I should walk you home. It’s dark.”

Your heart fluttered. You metaphorically slapped yourself and gulped air down your dry throat, desperately making sure to hide any excitement from him. “That would be the safe thing to do. We’ve both been drinking, maybe you should spend the night. You know, for safety, walking home alone in the dark drunk is dangerous for men too.”

Stars twinkled in Tsukishima’s chest. He began to approach you and at first you weren’t sure what he was doing exactly, though without another moment passing he intertwined his fingers with yours. Pulling you closer to his shoulder and squeezing your hand tightly. It made you feel safe just as he intended.

“You wanna hold my hand?” 

A hint of red tinted his cheeks which went against the demeanor he made sure to force all these years. Maybe both of your auras are attracted to each other. The fear of commitment and stubborn pride caused you both to push away, but in this moment reality felt raw. It made sense.

“Just to be safe, of course.”

[wetcatspellcaster]

Not sure if this is 500 words but this section omg. dying to know what Astarion was thinking when he had seemingly won, only to get stabbed lol

Rosalie pulled back from Astarion, who seemed oblivious and content, eyes shuttered and half-lidded with bliss. She wondered if he’d even noticed his charm was broken.

It soon became clear, as she plunged the makeshift stake into his chest.

His eyes snapped open as he cried out in pain, then looked down at his front in open incredulity. Rose pulled back her hand, and then leaned into it fully, jamming her whole shoulder behind it and pushing the chair leg in deeper, for good measure. It went further this time, the rib now successfully bypassed, and the sound that came from him was animalistic, as she felt blood begin to coat her knuckles. She decided that was enough, and immediately started backing away, onto the side of the room with the fireplace.

“Gods!” Astarion shrieked, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” She demanded, humiliation and anger and unbridled fury making her nearly blind, as she stumbled over her own feet. “Me? You kidnap me, you take my magic from me, and then you place me under a charm? How is that any different from being Feebleminded, you absolute, wretched cunt!”

Astarion tried to get out of his chair, but couldn’t seem to manage it. It was as if the stake was a leaden weight, pinning him in place like a bug. Rosalie made her way backwards, not taking her eyes off him as he reached down, and tugged the chair leg out of himself with a low, pained groan. It was coated in blood, as was the shirt, but only by a few inches. She hadn’t reached the heart - not that it mattered. Again, that wasn’t how the Ascendent would die.

“I really don’t like these tedious, vulgar fights we keep having,” he said in a low voice, tossing it aside. “But you keep leaving me no choice.”

Between one blink, and the next, he was moving.

But the stake had slowed him down enough to do its job. Rosalie had reached the fireplace.

Astarion grabbed hold of her arm, making her cry out in pain.

“I love you,” he said, “don’t you understand that? What it means for me, to even admit it? You say you love me too, so why are you so intent on prolonging both of our suffering? Why do you have to keep making things so difficult?”

Rose picked up the iron poker resting next to the grate. No time or spells to heat it, but oh well. Blunt force trauma would do.

She swung round, and backhanded Astarion across the face with it. He cried out, which meant it was somewhat effective, so she did it again, this time cracking him across his shoulder. The metal dented a little, but he also went reeling.

“Fuck you,” she seethed, breathlessly. “You take my magic from me? Well, fuck you. I don’t fucking need it. You are going to wish I did. Loving me will suck for you. Go fuck yourself.”

Thank you for playing!!

What if the only intelligent thing I had to say was just.... >:)

Anyway, what was Astarion thinking? Just generally? What an idiot.

But in more serious commentary - I've said this a few times in comments, but in my eyes Ascended!Astarion is a Charisma 10 man who's only company is now people he literally controls who exist to please him, and mortals he doesn't really get bc he is Other to them, but who he can charm to get his way. I wonder how many 'normal' conversations he has these days, where people aren't actively trying to please him or appease him and are scared at him or are just magically coerced into compliance, and how rusty his skills of actual relationship maintenance and even just social interaction have gotten. I also doubt whether he recognises what a 'normal' conversation, with all the inconveniences of anxiety and potential disagreement, even looks like anymore, or if he does see it ultimately as an exercise with frustration that could easily be bypassed by the tools at his disposal.

I think he also feels entitled to use those tools, as all he's actually bypassing is just the boring mores of social etiquette, more than anything else.

All this to say, I genuinely think he gets what he wants out of this charm: a productive conversation, where he gets straight answers to his questions and no evasion.

And you're right! He does think he's won, because he hasn't actually done anything 'wrong' or 'evil', and when you force this woman to be honest, she tells him she loves him! They've gotten to the heart of the issue, finally! Everything else was just posturing, or saving face, or morality, which will be overcome in time... now that they're being honest with each other. And aren't all good, healthy relationships built on honesty, first and foremost?

(Also in his mind, Feeblemind is permanent, but all of the measures here - the braceleters, the charm - are just temporary things that he 'knows' he'll stop using eventually, once they're over this little snag in their relationship. I extrapolated this attitude out from the way that the Ascendent threatens Spawn!Tav in-game with 'these are things I could do, but I won't ever need to so long as you're good!' With the break up, that changes to 'these are things I have to do right now, but I won't always need to, once everything has worked out..."

Idk, I just think that the way you show the man that he's taken the violating nature of his powers for granted and forgotten how invasive they can be is... with violence.

In terms of what he's thinking once they are fighting, and the dialogue I wrote here, in particular "why are you so intent on prolonging both of our suffering?" Astarion of the game is probably well-versed in overcoming other people's reticence and shame in his seductions, right? And if someone plays hard to get, he's also got the tools to overcome that. But I think he probably very much resented that part of his work (it made him more culpable bc he had to be the one to push, he also probably saw a lot of people 'faking' playing hard to get and saw a lot of it as an act just as tawdry and shameful as what he was doing, etc). So that frustration is plain here... this woman has already told him she loves him. They were in love in the past. So whatever qualms or refusals she has left is probably just fake, to look like a good person, etc. and it's denying both of them (but most importantly him) the only thing he actually wants. So I imagined a lot of frustration at the actual social etiquette of seduction bubbles up here, when he's now supposed to have to do that anymore, coupled with a temper tantrum, coupled with being STABBED.... YEAH. He's angry and not a little fucked up.

And of course, Rosalie's behaviour is perfectly justified, bc she's just been violated and forced to admit some embarrassing things. I actually think embarrassment and shame is driving her, as that's where the anger response comes from - it's easier to be mad at the violation, than examine anything else, much less what's just been said.

And she's certainly not going to examine the emotions she's feeling with that man stood in front of her. (That's why she examines it with Shadowheart later, instead)

She was also just so fucking terrified at not having magic. I tried to sublimate it in the writing of the chapter, because it's from her POV and she's being unreliable in the sense that she's trying to hide that fear from herself to avoid feeling helpless and powerless... but hopefully the final thing she says in the quote you've sent shows that that was the biggest violation all along.

I'm very proud of "loving me will suck for you." I think that's both very sexy of Rosalie, and very sexy of me, tbh.

As for the actual action of this scene, I don't have anything deep to say, I hadn't staked Astarion yet in any timeline so I thought it would be funny if that happened. And then the iron poker was just there for some catharsis for Rose, more than anything.

DVD commentary ask

[no-truth-left]

1.022 - Lead the conversation; ask more questions

“It has a cleaning station, though,” Jethro continues. He makes a chopping motion with his hands. “We used to have an annual fishing festival, back in my dad's day. People just skinned their catch wherever, so the Marshes set up these stations so things stayed clean.”

“Jethro.” She is surprised at how calm she sounds, but with the way Jethro's face drops, maybe she doesn't look as collected as she thinks.

Chie takes a deep breath, feeling anxiety tears prick her eyes. “This isn't helping.”

“Ah.” Jethro scratches the back of his head. “Sorry. But I know Mike's got toiletries.”

“I meant this conversation.”

“Sorry.”

They fall silent, the sounds of their footsteps filling the humid air. Guilt at being so blunt gnaws at her, but it feels distant, almost unreal. Chie twists the strap of her purse. She doesn't want to do this. The thought of facing those again, even in conversation, makes her insides squirm.

“What were those things?” Chie's voice is breathless and the words come out in a whisper.

Jethro sucks air through his teeth and stares hard at the ground. Holding up a hand to wordlessly ask for a moment, he mutters to himself. “No, no… I know. But she still… okay… okay. Thank you.”

Chie waits patiently, her steps slowing. The bracelet on her wrist warms, like it had been sitting in the sun.

Jethro clears his throat wetly. Takes a breath. Takes another. “That… was family,” he says finally.

The words would make sense to Chie in any other situation. “What.”

“My old man was the one who approached you,” Jethro continues, walking ahead. Chie jogs to keep up. The words come out faster as he talks, like a burst pipe. “Said something about you on the water. Was pretty pissed.”

“He…” he? It? Chie doesn't know. Jethro waits patiently while she finds her words. “My… my paddle was grabbed.”

Jethro winces. “Sorry ‘bout him. He… doesn't get out much.”

A small part of Chie wants to laugh. How absurd. Talking about this creature as if Jethro's father just said something off-color instead of trying to maim her. As if he’s human.

“What do they want from me?” Chie asks.

Jethro shrugs. “I really don't know. I. I'm just a fisherman, Chie. I don't… I'm not kept in the loop.”

[wambsgender]

.

[pies-writes-and-more]

jealous

Word Count: 3,130

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some insecurity angst (only a little though) but all fluff otherwise!

A/N: thank you for the help and love you two give me @satan-ruler-of-hells​ @thisnoodlewritesao3​. Was having a shitty day so I queued this fic up to hopefully bring some smiles to people’s faces <3

Haikyuu Masterlist

Ushijima would never understand why people flocked to him the way they did during tournaments. No matter where the team went, there were people begging for answers to their invasive questions, people screaming in excitement as soon as they saw them, but why?

“You’re a big strong attractive dude, Ushi, I dunno what to tell ya. Not to mention, you’re the ace of a powerhouse school,” Tendō laughed when Ushijima asked him why. But it wasn’t like any of these girls knew him so why were they always asking for pictures?

But despite not really understanding, Ushijima often complied with the request for photos, standing there as stoic as ever, not even bothering to crack a smile. He didn’t want to make anyone upset and he felt like just going along with it might actually be easier than trying to run away.

But today, Tendō watched as one girl got prepared for a selfie, and surprised Ushijima with a kiss on the cheek for the photo. She squealed in excitement, thanking him even as she ran away. The two Shiratorizawa boys stood there in confusion, Tendō’s eyes looking around to make sure you weren’t around to experience that.

Ushijima stood there for a moment longer, his hand going up to his cheek and touching the place she had kissed him. Had that really just happened? How odd. Why would someone he had never even met before do something like that?

The thought left his mind as soon as it had entered, turning around to follow Tendō onto the court. But he noticed how his friend’s eyes seemed to glance around the hallway, as if looking for someone, then fall on him questioningly.

“What is it?” Ushijima asked, watching his friend’s eyes carefully. 

Tendō just laughed and shook his head, “I’m just glad poor Y/N didn’t have to watch that. Can’t say I’d envy her.”

Ushijima’s brow tensed a little hearing those words, trying to comprehend Tendō’s words and tone, “I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you’re constantly followed around by girls and you must see some of them all the time at every one of our tournaments. But you and Y/N haven’t had a lot of time to see each other now that practice is every day right? Plus... what girl wants to see her boyfriend get kissed by some random fangirl?” Tendō explained, holding his hands behind his head as they walked into the stadium courts. 

Ushijima frowned a bit, still not fully comprehending. You knew that he was busy with volleyball and you knew he loved you, didn’t you? So why did it matter what some insignificant people thought? Or what some random person did for that matter? Sure, it was an uncomfortable kiss and was awkward but would it matter? He didn’t even know the girl. 

Unbeknownst to either of them, the girl had posted the pic onto social media. Swarms of jealous students and gossip news reporters started to share the picture and repost it with the question “Is this Ushijima’s girlfriend?”

It didn’t take long for you to be tagged. One of your friend had sent the photo with a questioning keyboard smash, wondering if you had known.

You hadn’t.

You had been up in the stands when it all took place - you didn’t see Ushijima often before a game since he was usually stretching while you got there early to get good seats. You had been sitting up in the stands, talking to another friend of yours and some of the other players’ friends and family. But when you saw the picture, it was like everything around you started to move in slow motion.

Your heart felt like it was moving up your throat, your chest tightening. Who was this girl? Your fingers instantly clicked onto her profile, glancing at all of her public photos. She was gorgeous, thin, smart by the looks of it too. She even had a picture or her playing volleyball.

Something inside of you asked the question, “Would Ushijima be better off with someone like her?”

He wasn’t following her on social media, so he didn’t know who she was. It wasn’t uncommon for people to post their photos with Ushijima, but no fans had ever been so bold to kiss him for a picture before.

You couldn’t even remember the rest of the game. Your stomach was churning so much you thought you were going to be sick.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” Your friend asked when they realized you hadn’t cheered as loud as you normally did during the games. You quickly plastered on a smile, nodding quickly.

“I’ve got to head out early! Tell the boys I said congratulations!” You asked them as the game came to an end, your feet quickly moving out of the stadium before the crowds left.

Ushijima could’ve sworn you had been up in the stands and you always came to his games. So where were you? Why hadn’t you come down yet? He stood in the hallway, watching as crowds of people left. Loads of them congratulated him or tried to strike up a conversation with him. But not a single one of them was you.

“Oh Ushijima! Y/N asked me to say congratulations!” Someone smiled up at him giving a thumbs up. He recognized them, they were friends with you weren’t they? So you had been here...

Ushijima’s forehead creased ever so slightly, “Where is she?”

“She said she had to go for some reason! She didn’t look so good when she left to be honest. Maybe she was feeling sick?” Your friend shrugged and gave another wave before rushing off.

Ushijima glanced at his phone, finding no notifications from you. If you had been feeling sick, why wouldn’t you tell him?

“You alright there, Ushi?” Tendō called, slapping his shoulder playfully. “We won, it’s time to go! What’re you standing around for?” His head spun around, looking for the missing part of their trio. “Where’s Y/N? It’s almost time for our celebratory dinner!”

“She left,” was all he said with a frown.

Tendō sucked in some air nervously, glancing at his own phone and all the notifications he had gotten over the recent scandal photo. “Think it might have to do with this?” He asked, showing the post to his friend. “Didn’t you get tagged in it too? Seems like the whole team was.”

“I don’t have notifications for those apps,” Ushijima shrugged. “I get tagged in a lot of things and it gets annoying.”

Tendō pouted at this, realizing that’s why Ushijima never responded to the hilarious things he would send him.

Ushijima was still frowning, wondering why everyone seemed so concerned with his dating life. He scrolled through the notifications that Tendō had on his phone, news reporters questioning Ushijima’s relationship status, people from their school mentioning Y/N and curiously wondering if they had broken up. 

All of this over some random girl? He glanced at her post a little closer, noting the caption read, “Ushi” with a little heart emoji next to it. He hadn’t been happy at all that some girl had decided to plant a kiss on his cheek but he never had the chance to tell her that before she ran off. 

“Why would Y/N leave over that?” Ushijima finally spoke, glancing again at his own phone to see if maybe you had texted him in the last few minutes.

Tendō sighed and raised an eyebrow to him, “Ushijima, some people get jealous.”

Jealous. The word echoed in Ushijima’s mind as he tried to consider the possibility that you were jealous over someone whose name he didn’t even know. 

“Wouldn’t you be jealous if you saw someone posting a similar photo of Y/N?” Tendō asked with a tilt to his head, curiously watching his friend’s expression. 

Ushijima let the thought cross over his mind while the two of them walked to where the rest of the team had gathered. What if some dude had posted a picture of Y/N, kissed her cheek, and everyone had assumed they were together? He frowned and shook his head of the awful thought, now understanding that maybe jealousy was that pit in his stomach he was currently experiencing. 

Although Coach Washijo growled a little in response, Ushijima insisted that he would not be joining the team for a celebratory dinner. When Goshiki asked Tendō where Ushijima was going, he’d just shrug and smile saying, “He’s off to be a good boyfriend.”

It must’ve been strange, seeing this tall man running around town, looking confused and frustrated. Numerous people around him glanced back at him, watching him with questioning eyes as he passed but Ushijima didn’t even noticed. He needed to make sure that you were okay.

You weren’t really sure why you left so quickly after the game was over. You knew the longer you waited to have this conversation with Ushijima, the more awkward you’d feel and the more upset that he’d be that you hadn’t brought it up sooner.

It’s not like you were mad at him or anything - how could you be? It wasn’t like he was the one kissing her, or that he had known she was going to do that - you knew it wasn’t the latter since Ushijima wasn’t all that big on PDA anyways so there was no way he’d be okay with it with some random girl... you hoped at least.

So if you weren’t mad, why did you run? You frowned as you tried to think of a good excuse, trying to tear apart the reasons for your behaviour. But all you could really think of is how insecure you had felt, seeing that picture. That girl was everything and you were... well what even were you?

Ushijima didn’t know how to beat around the bush - he didn’t know anything but being blunt and honest. So he had to be with you for a reason right? If he wanted to break up with you, he would’ve... right?

You groaned quietly, stuffing your face into the pillow you were holding into your lap. You needed to text him - he was probably wondering why you didn’t stay till after the game. But he hadn’t even texted you... hadn’t called... maybe he hadn’t noticed? You glanced at your phone one more time, as if waiting to see a notification you had missed or a text that you hadn’t heard the alert for.

Maybe you should just call him. Maybe if he hadn’t noticed, you both could just go out for food or have a nice night in and you could forget you ever saw that photo. You nodded slightly at your plan, moving your finger to call him. 

But a knock on your door distracted you. You looked up at the sound, glancing between that and your phone.

You dragged yourself out of bed, starting to type out a very nonchalant casual text to Ushijima as you made your way downstairs. Though it was very obvious once you opened the door that the text wasn’t needed.

“Y/N.”

What was it about the way he said your name that sent chills down your spine? 

You bit down on your lip nervously, realizing that all that time spent coming up with excuses was useless because here he was right in front of you, panting slightly, and you were drawing a blank.

“H-Hi, Ushijima,” you hesitated slightly, both standing there awkwardly until he nodded towards the inside of your house.

“Can I come in?” He asked softly, his voice more gentle than usual even with his heavy breathing. 

You nodded slowly and let him in, watching as he tucked his shoes away and stood in front of you as if waiting for you to say something.

“So... congratulations on your win,” you offered after moments of silence.

His eyes just watched you, as if checking to make sure you were okay, “Your friend said you had to leave. They also mentioned you weren’t feeling well. Is that why you didn’t stay?”

You stuttered out some sort of syllables that were no where near to being words as your boyfriend placed his hand on your forehead, cupping your cheeks in his other hand, “You don’t feel feverish but you are a bit warm,” he stated quietly. “Would you like me to make you some soup?”

You shook your head quickly, stepping back from him slightly, “I’m okay, Ushijima, promise. My... stomach just didn’t feel right.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he watched you, “Your stomach?”

You nodded, staring at your feet. You should just be honest, shouldn’t you? Ushijima was always honest with you. But what if you were honest and he came to the same realization - that he could do better than you?

“So this has nothing to do with that Instagram post?” Ushijima’s voice was stiffer this time around, almost... awkward? He shifted on his feet, trying to get you to look at him but when you wouldn’t, he just gently put his fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze to his. “Please talk to me, darling.”

It was as if you had been hiding tears this whole time and didn’t even realize it. But the softness in his voice and his eyes, the way he touched you, just made your eyes start to tear up, “It’s stupid,” you admitted after a moment and Ushijima’s thumb wiped away a tear that escaped you. “I know you don’t even know her.”

He nodded in response, stepping a bit closer to you now, “I didn’t know she was going to do that,” he told you, confirming what you had already assumed. “But I’m sorry.”

You gave a little laughing, shaking your head, “Ushijima, you have nothing to be sorry for. I know you take pictures with your fans sometimes.”

“No, I’m sorry because I didn’t understand why you would be upset at it at first. But Tendō helped me understand. Please don’t go taking photos like that with other men,” Ushijima asked you and made you laugh again. “I... I wouldn’t like it.” He admitted shyly, his lips turning to a small smile as he watched you laugh.

“She’s rather pretty though,” you mumbled softly, finally wiping the rest of your tears that were building in your eyes. “I just... You two look really good together.”

Ushijima seemed to think about this, lifting his eyes up to the ceiling as he considered your words, “She’s not ugly.” He stated simply, finally looking back down at you. “But I have no feelings towards her.”

“Feelings can be developed,” you suggested, hating every word that was coming from your mouth. Why were you arguing for him to leave you? Why were you trying to convince him?

Ushijima gave a chuckle this time, patting your head softly, “Why would I want to develop feelings for anyone else when I have so many feelings for you? You have nothing to be jealous over, love.”

Ushijima always said things with such honesty and you knew he would never say anything he didn’t mean... but didn’t he know there were girls out there much better than you?

“You are the one I want to be with. Not anyone else. All those girls I see at my games all look the same. But when I look at you,” Ushijima let his thumb graze over your lips gently, a small smirk on his lips, “I have to remind myself to stop looking at you. I have to tell myself that I’m staring. Before we started dating, Tendō told me you might think I was creepy because I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

You giggled, trying to not focus on the tingles this man’s finger left on your lips, “Oh ya?”

Ushijima just nodded firmly and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. I couldn’t care less about anyone else. Do you trust me?”

The question hung in the air for a moment - you knew you did but how long would it be before he realized just how incredible he was?

“Yeah,” you whispered, trying to shove down all of your anxieties. 

He watched you and even though you were saying yes, there was something about the way you were standing that didn’t match with your words. Ushijima wasn’t the best at understanding people, but he knew you. “Everyone of those fans would stop coming up to me if I wasn’t as good at volleyball. One day, when I can’t play as well anymore, or if I ever get injured, all those fans will disappear. But the only one I’d still want with me is you. That’s how I know I love you.”

And even if it was just for a moment, all your anxieties stopped. You smiled to yourself and threw your arms around him into a tight hug. Ushijima’s massive arms wrapped around you as he pressed more kisses to your forehead and cheeks. “Next time, please talk to me honestly,” he whispered to you.

You nodded into his shoulder, closing your eyes tightly and murmuring back, “I love you too.”

The two of you would end up in your room, curled up with some show playing in the background before you’d sit up in realization, blinking at him in surprise, “Hang on, didn’t the team go for your celebration dinner?”

Ushijima shrugged and nodded, glancing at the time displayed on his phone screen, “Yeah they should be done soon. I imagine Tendō will text me to make sure you’re okay after.”

Your forehead creased in worry, staring at him, “Did... Did they drop you off on the way or something?”

Ushijima’s eyes shared your level of confusion, tilting his head as he tried to think about your question, “Why would they?”

“Ushijima, how the hell did you get here?” You asked with wide eyes, remembering how out of breath he was and wanting to hear the words from his lips.

“I ran,” he stated simply as if it was such a casual thing to do. “Is that important to know?”

“Babe, your tournament was across the city,” you gaped, mouth open slightly as your eyes widened even further. “That must’ve been such a long run, especially after a game!”

Ushijima thought for a moment, thinking about how the team had to take a bus to the games today, and how Y/N had to take transit. His mind tried to calculate the distance, though it wasn’t likely he’d get an answer. He just shrugged, thinking nothing of it as he settled back into your bed, “I could’ve gone farther,” was all he said as he pulled you in for some more cuddles, “as long as it was for you.”

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[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 15)

Summary: The pair head off to the conference. A/N: I’m finally back! I missed you all! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Oral sex (male receiving), guns, very mildly implied gun kink Word Count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

—————————————————

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always loved road trips. It made sense to me why babies had such an easy time falling asleep on long car rides. Although humans aren’t capable of retaining memories of those years, I still liked to think that I’d felt the same way as an infant as I do now.

There was just something so whimsical about watching the world pass you by. Something comforting in the haloed lights and the thin barrier between you and the weather. The stereo sound of rain with a front row seat of watching droplets race down the window.

Even with the best of company, one who always had something to say, I found myself lost in thought rather than conversation. The rain was starting to wane, and the pitter-patter faded even further into the background of our rear view.

“What are you worried about?”

I turned to the man in the driver’s seat first, but then glanced over to the clock to get some grasp on how long I’d been lost in thought. But a few seconds into the impossible mental math, I was forced to abandon the fruitless efforts.

“Bunny…” Spencer warned with a playful tilt in his voice.

“What?”

“You look worried.”

To which, of course, I lied, “I’m not worried.”

And, of course, he noticed.

“And now you’re lying to me.”

Something about the incredulity in the word, the way he drew out the vowel with an overdramatic gasp, made the impossible seem less so. The vulnerability I’d tried to hide away returned to the forefront with a few fangs less.

But it still felt… unworthy of being discussed. A product of an over-imaginative mind with too much time and too few distractions.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

Spencer, in his usual stubborn way, did not accept the insecurities. I had half a mind to point out to him just how hypocritical he was to force me to talk about every inane thing that bothered me when it’d taken him months to be honest with himself about his feelings for me.

But he just sounded so pitiful, so pure in his intentions, that my competitive nature never stood a chance.

“Please tell me,” he begged, “I promise it’s not stupid if it’s enough to worry you.”

While I wanted to answer him, I still took a moment to gather my thoughts. In the end, they came out the way they probably always would have.

“Are you bored with me?” I said, too loud and too rushed for the simple idea the phrase conveyed.

Spencer’s answer was much the same.

“What? No!”

It was also significantly more terrifying when half his body turned towards me in an instant, as he was the one driving the car. Thankfully, his logic took control pretty quickly once the initial shock faded, and he returned his eyes to the road with a deep huff.

“No, I’m not bored with you. Not at all. Why would you even think that?”

“It’s just…” I tried to find a delicate way to say it, but found none. So, continuing with the trend of vague bluntness, I sucked in my cheeks and tried to be brave. “It’s been a couple weeks and we… haven’t…”

The thought was cut off by a loud, bewildered scoff. The notoriously intense man to my left held a firm hand between us to further demonstrate his insistence.

“Bunny, I am well prepared to wait a lot longer than a couple of weeks.”

Yeah, trust me, I know… I thought rather rudely to myself.

Spencer’s stance changed in response, and for a second I thought I might have said the sarcastic quip aloud. But then he smiled at the sight of me, leaned back with arms crossed and bottom lip pouted.

“Besides, you’ve made it very clear that I am the one holding you back,” he noted.

The two of us shared a brief, awkward chuckle that made most of the remaining tension fade. Then it was just the two of us, with our biggest fears about our own unworthiness still hanging in the air.

We still liked each other just as much, too. Maybe that’s all that really mattered.

“So what’s really bothering you?” he tried again.

“How many girlfriends have you had?”

“Ah,” was all he said initially, but his body language immediately changed back to the shameful, frigid man I’d known him capable of being. Although I’m sure he hadn’t meant to, he broke my heart with every inch away from me he shifted.

Eventually, he allowed himself a chance to answer, “Two, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Three, if it includes you,” he clarified. Which, while sweet, was a bit jarring to hear for the first time in the middle of that particular conversation.

“It includes me?”

The bona fide genius’s mouth dropped open, floundering for a second before he folded his lips in with a remarkably uncomfortable hum that turned into laughter before I could find a way to be offended by it.

“Do you still need me to ask you?” he teased, “Here I thought I’d made it pretty clear. But I suppose I am not an expert on relationships or social cues.”

No kidding.

As soon as the thought occurred to me, the profiler in the driver’s seat took note of it. I couldn’t act surprised; I had hardly hidden the spike of anxiety. Between bitten lips and twiddling fingers, hinted at by wayward glances and breaths that took too much in and put too little out.

Much to my pleasure, Spencer didn’t call me out. Instead, he changed the conversation so dramatically that I damn near got whiplash.

“Did you have a lot of stuffed animals growing up?”

“What?”

Without missing a beat, he broke into a longwinded rant that did nothing to answer my question.

“Anthropomorphism is pretty common in young girls. The attribution of human emotions to inanimate objects. Typically, dolls or stuffed animals. Young kids tend to convince themselves that the things they love have feelings. Toy Story took advantage of that trend to make children feel an even deeper empathy for toys. Pretty successfully, might I add.”

And add it he did, to a lot of information that felt a lot like a trick.

“Were you one of those young girls?” he continued, with a very unnecessary commentary of, “I have a feeling you were.”

“I guess so—” I started to answer, only to be crowded out by the boisterous snicker of, “A resounding yes.”

“Do you have a point there, mister?!” I screeched back, but any anger faded fast at the sight of Spencer’s wide grin. The tinge of red breaking out over his neck as my humiliation brought him such endless entertainment that he struggled to remember to breathe.

Once it had finally died down, though, he found his stride as he so often did. He let one hand drop from the wheel to take hold of my hand. He waited, still, all the way until the car came to a stop at the yellow light now beaming through a rainless sky.

“Do you think the human heart is incapable of loving more than one thing?” he asked.

“No, of course not.”

He gave a solemn nod, undoubtedly questioning if I had already deemed him as something non-human, or if I’d simply still found myself unworthy of such a feat. I said nothing, but I knew that he took my silence as a little bit of both.

“If you really believe that, then why do you think that the potential of me having loved anyone before I met you, somehow cheapens what I feel for you?”

I felt regrettable words dancing along my tongue, and I bit the muscle hard enough to wince.

Because I have never loved anyone the way I am falling in love with you.

And what a terrifying revelation that could have been. It could have been suffocating, but it wasn’t. Spencer took it upon himself to steal my breath away in a completely different way.

“You can’t honestly doubt the extent of how I feel for you,” he whispered as our joined hands drifted over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Even clothed, I felt the way my whole body responded to his touch. With goosebumps rippling over skin and into denim, struggling to find him in the darkness.

“Do you really not feel it when I touch you?”

He already knew I had. The wicked smirk he sported stirred another feeling entirely, and before long, I’d cast aside the worries to replace them with that typical jest we shared.

“Are you comparing me to a doll?” I droned with a false monotone.

Per usual, he knew exactly how to navigate the pitfalls I’d planted in his path.

With a gentle, careful hand, he pushed my hair back from my face so that he could see my face unhindered. With both hands off the wheel for that brief moment, he gazed at the slightly flustered, but mostly smitten mess of a girl beside him, and he saw something I wished I could see every day of my life. Even if it was just through the reflection of his honeyed eyes.

“You certainly are beautiful enough. And I do feel compelled to play with you.”

Just as he’d said it, I grabbed hold of his hand that had stopped its ascent up my thigh. Spencer sighed, light and lively with a shake of his head and a cluck of his tongue.

“Naughty Bunny. Distracted driving is a crime, you know.”

And then his hand was gone, returned to the wheel of the vehicle as it began to move again. As for me, I’d sunken down into my chair with a devastated groan.

“You’re so mean!”

“Do you want me to crash the car?” he laughed, and I decided that the sound would be enough to carry me through the rest of the trip.

Because while Spencer was unaware of my plans for the conference, I knew about them in extreme detail. Well, as good of detail as someone like me could have. The logistics might prove trickier than my fantasies, but I couldn’t imagine anything insurmountable.

When the rain was long behind us, I took to watching Spencer rather than the rolling clouds. I knew he felt my eyes on him, but he dutifully kept his eyes forward, only stealing glances at my sleepy expression when it was absolutely safe to do so.

I had expected him to correct me when I curled up in the passenger seat — it wouldn’t be the first time he’d lectured me on safety features in a car and how airbags are designed for a very specific posture — but he didn’t. The scene was so serene that it almost felt like I’d already fallen into a dreamworld that only consisted of that little universe we shared.

“Go to sleep, little Bunny,” I heard amongst the ever-rolling tires. “I’ll take care of you.”

My eyes fluttered shut, and that time they stayed so. In the background, I heard words whispered so quietly that I almost missed them.

“I’ll always take care of you. I promise.”

But I hadn’t. My subconscious grabbed hold of them so tightly I feared I might break them into something less precious. So I held them softer, resting my hands tenderly over my heart that beat in tandem with another’s. With his. I held on to that feeling for dear life and many miles.

I didn’t let go of it, even as the car pulled to an unplanned stop.

I opened my eyes, spotting the sea of parked cars right before Spencer brought a firm finger to my forehead.

“Stay asleep,” he instructed, swapping out his finger for his lips. It reminded me of the old mother’s trick of kissing foreheads to search for a fever, and I wondered what ailment he might be searching for in me.

I hid away the one I was most frightened of him feeling. The naive, desperate one that yearned to sink its claws into him every time I felt him slip away. That time, I rid myself of my reservations. My hand gripped his wrist as hard as it could in my half-asleep state, and any worry about hurting him was gone within seconds of hearing him laugh.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

Something in his voice made me believe him fast enough to almost fall back to sleep on his command. I swore, all I’d done was blink and the door was opening just as it closed. I didn’t even open my eyes for the first few seconds, my body having already recognized the scent of his cologne and the feeling of our souls meeting over the center console.

I didn’t open my eyes when he took my hand again, but I did open them when he replaced his own hand with something else. Something soft and plush.

I opened my eyes and was met with the kind, loving stare of a stuffed rabbit. In the background of that childishly heartwarming image, was Spencer, smiling with just as much fondness as the fabric and thread.

With tears in my eyes at the horribly domestic nature of it all, I thought of so many different things to say to that wonderful, whimsical man. I thought of confessing my love for him, for telling him that he was brilliant and he’d already figured me out more than I ever could have hoped.

I thought about thanking him but settled on something else.

“I hate you,” I whined, the words lost in the fluff that hid the smile I wore.

Spencer didn’t hide his smile. Not even a little bit.

“And I adore you,” he said, and I knew that unlike me, he’d said the first thing that came to his mind when faced with my sarcastic disdain.

Spencer said the first thing he thought, and that thought had been the very same one he’d once been willing to damn himself for.

I adore you, he said. And if I hadn’t been trying to win, I might’ve returned with the reply I’d been screaming for long before the rabbit.

I adore you more. More than you, the moon, and the sun. I adore you more than I ever thought possible, every moment of every day.

I adore you, Spencer Reid. More than you’ll ever know. More than I’ll ever say.

—————————————————

Having spent the majority of my life hopping hotel rooms, the facade of luxury they tried to capture no longer fazed me. As I passed by ornate architecture and textiles, I found myself thinking about how often I had been somewhere exactly like this in every way — but it was different.

I thought about how something so small and unassuming could change my whole world. How my Bunny had been my first in so many ways without ever having known.

For example, she had just recently become the first woman that made me uninterested in academia. It wasn’t that I’d completely lost interest in the topic of the conference — the poor girl had just listened to an impromptu lecture about it for the past few hours — it was the fact that I had rushed straight past the preparation for the exhibits. It was the enthusiasm held in tensed muscles as we both bounded through dizzying hallways until we managed to sneak away from everything and everyone else.

It was the first time a hotel room had ever felt like home. The first time I’d ever wanted to stay there forever.

We entered her room first, completely ignoring the set of internal doors that had been meant to keep our spaces apart. They had done a horrible job, and we couldn’t have been happier about it.

My coquette twirled about the room, tossing her things to the side in favor of me. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled our bodies tightly together.

I lowered my hands to her hips, but they couldn’t stay there long. They started to wander over her back in seconds, trying to find any way to bring her closer to me.

“Well, Bunny. You’ve done it. You’ve gotten me into your hotel room.”

“I know,” she said through a bright-eyed smile, “And I have plans.”

There were few things more terrifying than my Bunny’s self-assured little snicker. Normally, I would approach the situation more cautiously than I had felt capable of at that moment. I would push her at least a few inches away to grant myself the chance to think in full sentences.

But she was so goddamn intoxicating. The small kisses on my neck were manageable, but when her lithe tongue dragged over my pulse, I became weak in the knees. My ability to conjure one word, much less enough to create a coherent thought, was immediately lost to the hotness of her breath and the quickness of her hands.

Eventually, I hummed a response in an attempt to gain something reminiscent of the upper hand.

“Oh? You have plans?”

“Mhm,” was her terrifyingly curt reply.

Nothing befuddled me quite like she did. I could explain the psychological, pathological, or pharmacological phenomenon responsible for losing control of your faculties… except for when it came to me and her.

Because there was quite simply no reason that I hadn’t noticed when she undid my pants.

Before I could say a word, she’d slipped from my hands and dropped to her knees in front of me. I still grabbed her, anyway, my hands rooted in her hair as my whole body shook.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Did you just stutter?” she teased with a giggle.

I took exactly one deep breath in an attempt to calm down.

“Why are you—Shit!”

My voice was cut off, my vocal cords barely able to scrape together to make that final curse. It had all happened so fast that I could hardly process it. In a way, I was happy that I hadn’t hyper-fixated on each sensation — I knew that I would not be able to contain my lust for the girl longer than a matter of moments regardless. But still, even with each new touch on sensitive skin being blunted by her speed, I was not prepared for the mere sight of it.

Of my Bunny, with her hand wrapped around my cock and her lips pressing the tiniest little kiss to the tip.

“Bunny, i-it’s fine. You don’t...”

She looked so fucking comfortable. Like this wasn’t blasphemy in action, like she was not acting out my most licentious fantasies in real time. I swallowed hard, closing my eyes and looking away while she started to explore with tentative squeezes and strokes.

“Fuck,” I groaned, “You don’t have to do this.”

But she was beaming. There was no way for me to doubt the sincerity and wonder in her eyes as she continued to giggle, nervous and kittenish, “I know. I want to!”

“Oh, god.”

I closed my eyes again, but I saw her no matter what. I could still feel her timid hand almost shaking as she worked her fingers over the soft skin. Then, she giggled again, and I had to bear witness.

“Don’t you want to watch?” she asked.

My stomach tensed as it took everything in me not to finish right then and there. She didn’t wait for an answer, or merely accepted my dumbstruck staring as confirmation enough, before she dragged her tongue along the underside of my dick.

There was no chance of appearing unaffected, and I wouldn’t have wanted to, anyway. I wanted her to receive praise in the only way I was capable of. The sounds of pure, unadulterated pleasure only grew louder as she became more confident in her movements. Until she took the chance to push the tip past her lips and run her tongue along the sides, all while staring up at me with a most provocative glimmer in those otherwise chaste eyes.

“You’re a devilish, coquettish little thing,” I groaned. She answered by covering the head with her lips again, then taking me in further. It wasn’t until she laughed against me, however, that my eyes began to roll.

“You will undoubtedly, assuredly, be the end of me, Bunny,” I whispered.

She immediately stopped, pulling her mouth off of me with a provocative little ‘pop’ of her lips.

“Hey Professor?”

“What?”

For just one second, I worried I’d done something wrong. That I had been too much, too enamored with her. That I was overbearing and outlandish in a way that didn’t appeal to her. But then she smiled, genuine and guileless, and my heart stole back some of the blood rushing between her fingers to beat just a little bit harder.

“Keep talking. I want to hear your voice.”

And I was gone. White spots of light and love were creeping into my vision as she took me into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around me and drawing lewd noises from me that I tried to speak through — just for her.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bunny.”

My hands were tangled in the hair she probably spent ages perfecting for me, but she didn’t seem to mind. I kept trying to release the tension, but then she would move her tongue against me while she enveloped more of me and I would forget to be gentle with her.

“What happened to my sweet, naive little flower?”

My Bunny tried to laugh again, batting her lashes at me and almost choking on the intrusion. She never stopped though, even as her eyes watered up.

“When did you learn how to behave like this? Is this what I’ve done to that demure darling that showed up in my office?”

It was a sincere question just as much as it had been intended to draw a reaction from her. Her whole body wiggled in response, with her motions getting more and more excited. So, naturally, I continued to entertain her desire to hear me.

I let go of her hair, brushing my knuckles over the side of her face and cleaning the little bit of spit gathering at her chin.

“I’ve ruined you already and I’ve hardly even begun to have my way with you,” I whispered.

I watched as any remaining fears of inadequacy melted away, replaced with only the purest, most ungodly, powerful lust. It was enough to propel her further into the waters of sin, with her small hands digging in my thighs as she sat up taller.

“That’s my girl,” I groaned when I watched myself start to disappear inch by inch, until I felt the back of her throat and her muscles tensed. “Good job sweetheart. Swallow for me, pretty girl.”

She heeded my instructions immediately, taking me in while she gagged and choked without complaint. I wanted to be more sympathetic to her plight, but there was only one thought I felt capable of voicing.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

My Bunny felt good, too, I realized shortly after. It was the gentle, rhythmic rocking of her hips — the way she ground down on her heel, seeking the stimulation I was meant to provide. And while I was jealous to be replaced so easily, I couldn’t help but be overcome by the revelation that she had become so overwhelmed herself, so driven by lust for me, that she felt the need to provide herself relief.

She wanted me. She really, truly wanted me the same as I craved her every second of my existence.

“Fuck, I-I can’t...” I said between heaving breaths, “Tell me where you want it.”

Her answer came in the form of her hand over mine on the back of her head. She pushed down as hard as she could, sucking in one last breath before she brought her lips to the base of me.

Just as she pressed that sloppy kiss into me, I lost myself in her. The warm, velvety slickness of her throat vibrated and closed around my cock like the most welcoming vice. She choked on a moan at the same time I filled her throat, spilling into her in a way I’d only ever dreamed of.

Her body started to resist. Her nails dug into my thighs and tears streamed over her cheeks. But before I pulled her off of me, I issued one last instruction.

“Swallow like a good girl.”

She did. She followed along before she even bothered to take a breath. When her lungs filled again, though, it wasn’t for long. The abuse of her poor throat had caught up to her, and she coughed as she struggled to stay upright on her knees.

“That’s a good Bunny,” I cooed, catching her just before she crumpled to the floor. I brought her to her feet and steadied her there in my arms. I cleaned the spit from her lips and chin and kissed away the few tears that remained.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” I asked.

But my poor, sweet Bunny remained too preoccupied to consider her own well-being.

“Did I do okay?” she asked in return.

Forcing her to meet my eyes, despite how tired she looked, I spoke as clearly and convincingly as I could.

“You were, as always, wonderful in every way.”

That time when she laughed, the sound was more carefree than the last. I felt some metaphorical and literal weight fall away as she found her feet again.

But that freedom was so tempting. So delicious to dream of tearing it away. Of leading and dragging her back to that state from before — when she felt only what I felt, did only as I said. I wanted to cherish her and show her the depths of how I felt for her.

“One day, I’m going to give you everything,” I whispered into her ear, “I’m going to break you, and you’re going to love it.”

“When?” she replied, completely unfazed by the desperation in my tone.

“Not yet,” I answered honestly with a tender kiss to her saline stained cheek as if to prove my point. “But one day. I promise.”

When my hands fell away, she took her freedom in stride. Unlike what I’d expected, she asked for nothing in return. She had brought me to heights unknown and fluttered away from me like I hadn’t just seen the world in an entirely different way thanks to her.

Of course, I speak about it as if it were poetic, when in all actuality, she was just trying to snoop in my room. I beat her to it, as she was adorably surprised to find that the door was still locked from my side. I think the poor thing almost took offense to it before she realized that I hadn’t been in it yet.

I made her wait a few minutes longer, much to her dissatisfaction. But the truth was that I needed at least one moment to grasp what had just happened in her room.

I only made it as far as placing half the things I brought where they needed to be before I missed her too much to make her wait. When the door clicked open, she pounced on the opportunity. She abandoned her opened suitcase on the bed and waltzed over the threshold into what was meant to be my room.

If it were truly mine, I thought, she’d belonged there, anyway.

But my Bunny had only made it a few steps before she froze. I didn’t have to follow her eyes to know that they were locked onto the revolver resting on my nightstand. The gleam of silver and polished wood had caught her eye, and she remained stuck like a deer caught by two glaring headlights.

“Leave it to a little magpie to be drawn in by shiny objects.”

My Bunny jumped at the acknowledgement, bringing her fingers up to her mouth and biting down on the nails before she muttered, “I didn’t know you had your gun.”

The Smith & Wesson sat innocently before her, although you wouldn’t know from the way she watched it. As if it would jump from its place and cause destruction on its own. When I picked it up, however, that darling girl relaxed immediately. Whatever she saw in the way I handled the weapon, it was not fear.

“It’s not loaded,” I said, thumbing the release and counting each of the six empty spaces. Again, I theorized that her mind was somewhere other than typical gun safety lessons, but I didn’t find it necessary to tease her just yet. So, instead, I returned the cylinder to its rightful place before I offered it to her.

“Do you want to hold it?”

Silence. A contemplative curiosity filling every aspect of her expression. My Bunny reached out one hand, and I took note of how it didn’t shake — yet.

The cold, heavy steel dropped into her fingers that fell from the heaviness she hadn’t anticipated. I watched the panic and excitement flash through her eyes for a mere fraction of a second before she was carefully clutching the barrel with a white-knuckled grip. When I laughed, her flustered shaking became even more dramatic.

“You are positively adorable holding that.”

Her lips stuck out in a precious little pout, but I didn’t let myself linger for long. I passed by the flustered girl still clutching the steel like her life depended on it, and finally knelt down to open the safe at the bottom of the bureau. It wasn’t until I turned back around that I spotted something peculiar about that once demure flower.

My Bunny was still there, holding onto the gun carefully and scrutinizing each ding and dent… but she was doing something else, too.

She was rubbing her thighs together in tight, rocking motions.

“Bunny…”

She froze, her eyes popping up to mine and her knuckles blanching from the pressure.

“Yes, Professor?”

There was no delicate way of asking a question I already knew the unpalatable answer to, so I decided to be blunt.

“Are you… excited?”

“What? No!” she shrieked. Seconds later, after we both finished wincing from the shrill sound, she continued at a more appropriate pitch, “Pffft, no! Guns a-are scary. And bad. You should take it back.”

With both hands, she held the unloaded weapon out to me.

I didn’t take it. My hands covered hers around it, but I used that hold to pull her closer. I tugged until she all but fell into my lap, where she finally released her hold and chose to cling to me, instead.

We both laughed at the clumsiness, but mine didn’t last nearly as long. Because with her so close again, with her breath on my cheeks and her hands on my thighs, I could only push away the licentious desires for so long.

My free hand found home on her thigh, pressing forward until it had reached the apex between her thighs. The warmth radiating from through her clothing, reminding me of just how badly she desired my touch.

“You should see what else I can do with this, little Bunny,” I teased.

A warm, contented sigh slipped past her lips, and for a couple seconds I allowed myself to dream of a reality where it was only the two of us. A world where I could have her, over and over again, without fear of retribution from the universe.

It was a beautiful place to spend my daydreams, but it was not the world we’d found ourselves in. I think she knew that, too, because she had no qualms when I helped guide her off my lap. She just sat beside me and waited for further instruction, which I was loath to give. But, in time, I did.

“Go unpack your things. We have to go to dinner soon.”

There was surprisingly little resistance, and that small, insecure part of me reached out to grab her wrist before she got too far.

“And Bunny?”

The way her face lit up in response to the name told me I had nothing to worry about. But I still wanted more, to indulge in her and offer her some kind of reassurance in exchange. So, I offered her what I wanted more than anything.

“Do you want to stay the night in my room?”

Immediately, her voice jumped an octave and made goosebumps cover my skin in a most welcome manner.

“Wha— You’ll let me stay in here?! With you?!”

“If you’d like to,” I said through the laughter.

Her answer was quick and powerfully given.

“Yes!”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”

I basked in the glory of her purity; of the childlike joy she got out of something so simple. I memorized each wrinkle and laugh line, painted them into fifty thousand different mental images so that they might finally be able to drown out all the badness I’d accumulated over the years.

I took great happiness in her, because I knew that I would have to damper her spirits too soon.

“Fair warning, though. I do have a meeting with Candy beforehand.”

And just like that, it was gone. Her bouncing figure froze the same as it had when she’d spotted a weapon on my nightstand. I chuckled to myself about how silly it was that she found that woman to be a threat.

“Wait, what? Here? In your room?”

After the brief, required struggle to get off the floor, I approached the now gloomy girl. I cradled her face as carefully as I could, remembering how happy she’d been and wanting to bring it back however I could. But, as I’d said before, the world required things from me that I wished I could abandon for her.

“All I ask is that you don’t sit with your ear at the door. For both of our sakes.”

“But…” she started and ended, unable to muster the words to voice the rather juvenile concern that I would ever be untrue to her in that way.

Because she was still so young, so fearful and unpracticed in these things. I saw the anxiety sprouting in her eyes and twiddling fingers and I sought to placate it with the truth.

“I promise, my bed will be waiting for you, unused and with pillows still fluffed.”

“Fine,” she muttered begrudgingly before adding on in a snarky drawl, “But you owe me.”

“Always,” I answered, and I wondered if she knew how much I’d meant it.

How I spent every waking moment acutely aware that I might never be enough. There had been a few times she referenced that self-loathing in fits of anger; she’d mocked the extent of the poisonous hatred and implied it was nothing but self-aggrandizing nonsense.

She slipped away from me too quickly for my taste, but I didn’t stop her anymore. My eyes fell away from her figure the same my hands had earlier. Instead, my gaze fixed on the silver gleam of the safe containing the weapon that I’d once seen as an extension of myself.

I thought of every disgusting thing I’d ever done, every drop of blood shed for, from, or by me. I looked down at a torn palm surrounded by new scars between knuckles.

I thought of Chekhov’s gun, the literary principle that dictates that when you see a gun in the first act, it must fire by the third.

I heard my Bunny humming a song that sounded too beautiful to be shared with me, and I wondered how long it would take her to realize how true my warnings had been.

Because in those brief moments of clarity, that overwhelming, insecure part of me forced me to acknowledge the truth. That it was not a matter of if I would hurt her.

It was a matter of when. It was a matter of how.

But then I heard her laughter from the next room over, and I decided that I didn’t want to listen to anything else for the time being.

—————————————————

| Part Sixteen |

[toorusproblems]

If your still taking requests can I request a death note oneshot nsfw were it’s after Light’s fathers death and the reader doesn’t like Light in fact hates Him but starts to feel sorry for him and later that day decides to visit his apartment to help him deal with his grief and ask if there is anything she can do to help him and light subtly implies that she can help him by sleeping with him and the reader is tempted to but doesn’t want to because she remembers she dislikes him and he has a girlfriend but light eventually persuades her into it ?

Just this once?

pairing: light yagami x f!reader

wc: 1.4k

cw: infidelity (light cheats on misa), dubcon, coercion, reader is L’s little sister, not proofread (lmk if i missed anything!!!)

hi!! sorry this took forever, i took a lil break from writing. i tried my best to stick to the request but idk how well i did lmao but even so, i hope you like it!!!

Your dead-set focus is suddenly ripped from you as the familiar noise of the task force headquarters’ door creaking open pulls your eyes away from the bright computer screen. To your displeasure, the new presence in the room is none other than Light Yagami.

“Oh, Light! I thought we agreed you didn’t have to come in today?” An uncharacteristically soft-spoken Matsuda greets.

“Yeah, but I guess my father’s passing only fueled me to get to the bottom of this even more.” Light states.

Being L’s sister, you’ve inherited the black-haired boy’s suspicion of Light. After all, you were the only person in the world that L trusted with his entire heart and soul. Those countless times you’ve stayed up together throwing theories about the Kira case back and forth, only for you and the night itself to hear.

Though your brother was undeniably a bit smarter than you, you weren’t stupid either. With everything L had theorized about Light’s true identity, it’s hard for you to write off L’s death as a coincidence. The timelines just seemed to line up too perfectly.

Everything on top of the fact that because of your investigation work on the Kira case you were barely even given time to mourn the loss of your precious older brother, a heavy dislike of the brown-haired man festered in you.

Even so, you can’t help but feel sympathetic towards him today. After all, it’s true that you know what it feels like to lose a close family member too.

“Hey, Light,” his name feels sour on your tongue, “if you want I can take the heavy lifting today, don’t stress, alright?”

His eyes meet yours, and you take note that they look even more dead than usual.

“It’s okay, Y/N, no need to worry.”

—

No need to worry.

Well, you did worry. All day in fact.

You hate yourself for feeling so empathetic towards the man who you suspect of being behind the killing of your very own brother.

But here you are now, about to knock on Light’s apartment door with a small bouquet of tulips in your left hand. Nothing special, you told yourself, just something to show that you care at least a little.

As you raise your right knuckles to the wooden surface, the door suddenly swings inward.

“Oh hello, Y/N. Pretty flowers you’ve got there.” Light points at the objects in your grip.

That’s it. That’s another thing that you hate about him. How he always seems to be one step ahead of you in even the smallest things. How it feels like he always knows what you’re thinking. It’s almost like he’s watching you sometimes, for fuck’s sake!

“These are for you, actually.”

“Really?” he fakes a smug expression, making you cringe, “Thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing. Feel better soon.”

You turn to leave, but Light’s hand catches your shoulder.

“Wait. Before you leave, can you come in for a second?”

“Oh uh… sure? Why?”

You receive no response as Light silently motions you onto his couch. A nervous pit grows in the bottom of your stomach.

“So uh… what do you need me for?” You ask apprehensively.

“Just want to talk. It feels like forever since we’ve actually sat down together and had a conversation, you know?”

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were keeping in. “Yeah, it has been a while.”

Yet another awkward silence passes. The sheer quietness seems very strange to you for a moment until it hits you.

“Hey, where’s Misa? Is she out at a shoot or something?”

“So observant.” Light chuckles, and with the tone he puts on, you’re not sure if he’s being sarcastic or not, “Yes, she’s filming a commercial for Miho Skincare. Or at least that’s what she told me before she ran out the door.”

“Oh, I see.” You bite your lip, unsure of how to continue the conversation, “Do you want me to put the flowers in a vase for you?” You ask, picking up the tulips from the coffee table.

Light moves his hand to your thigh in a smooth motion, catching you very off guard so that you nearly drop the bouquet. You hate the fact that blood rushes to your cheeks.

“No need. But there is something else I want from you, if I’m going to be blunt.” His eyes pierce directly through you. You feel naked under his gaze.

Fuck, as many negative feelings you harbour for the man in front of you, you can’t deny he’s attractive in all sense of the word. You know what he’s asking for. It’s plainly clear even just from the lust blooming in his irises.

And it’s then when you realize how touch-starved you are. You’ve been using every available hour of your life on the Kira case, of course you hadn’t had time for any kind of relationship.

So you don’t stop him from inching closer. One of his hands sliding towards the inside of your thigh while the other pushes a piece of your hair from your face. His captivating eyes flutter shut and you’re about to give into his touch when you remember the girl you had been talking about just a moment earlier.

“Wait. Misa.” You whisper simply.

“She won’t be home for hours. And you want to make me feel better, do you not? I’m just asking for one more thing in addition to those flowers you gave me, hm?” He borderline growls into your ear. You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

Without waiting for an answer, Light crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is hungry, like he wants to waste no time with you. Admittedly, you still feel a little uneasy about all of this, Misa’s face—sweet as candy—beaming at you in your mind as her boyfriend sucks on your tongue.

You feel around each other’s bodies, unbuttoning anything you feel to rid yourselves of your clothing. It all goes so fast, and before you know it, you’re both in your undergarments. Light’s got you lying beneath him with your knees pressed to your chest. He reaches to pull your grey cotton panties to the side.

Suddenly, the peppy blonde girl inside your head once again appears, and you realize what you’re doing.

“Hang on, Light. I’m not too sure about this anymore…” You weakly tell him, pushing his hands away from your most sensitive area.

“Hm? But you promised you’d help me feel better.” Light throws uncharacteristic puppy eyes your way. He points to the wet patch that had formed on the centre of your panties, “And look, you want it too, right? Just this once? Please?”

It’s true, you had come here to make him happier. So why should you go back on it now? You criticize yourself, wondering how you could ever be so inconsiderate—to a coworker who just lost his father, too!

So you nod your head in coerced approval towards the man on top of you, who then in turn wasted no time pulling his cock out from his boxers.

Without warning, or any prep whatsoever, Light pushes the head of his cock into your cunt. The stretch burns, and you’re left wondering if it’s just because you haven’t gotten laid in quite a while, or if his cock is just that fat.

“Light!” You whine in slight protest, “You’re too big… hurts…”

He only hums in response, pushing himself further into you, “Sorry, little one, this cunt is just so tight, I can’t help myself. Fuck-“

Light starts a rhythm, watching his cock sink in into you over and over again. He notes how each time he pulls out, a sheen of both your slick, and even some blood coats it. Must’ve just been too big for your little cunny, he guesses.

The pain of the stretch slowly turns into pleasure and you relax into Light’s touch. You throw your hands into his surprisingly soft brunette locks as he pounds into your sweet spot.

You wonder if L is watching you right now. He must be so disappointed in his little sister, moaning and creaming so sweetly for the very same man he thought he had taught you to be wary of, the man who made the world a living hell.

[levi-my-beloved]

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 3

Pairings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Content warnings: Violence, implied torture, two pining idiots being two pining idiots, probably ooc Levi cuz oof i suck

Word count: 8.2K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in the Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened to be Humanity’s Strongest… and your ex.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

A/N: y’all these chapters are getting real long now… and they only get longer as i keep writing. just wanted to a say a quick and huge thank you for the amazing support i’ve had so far. i honestly didn’t think anyone would read this little story and it’s so heartwarming to see people enjoying it

i love every one of y’all so much 🥺

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

If your hands were free, you would have shielded your eyes as the blinding sun greeted you. You weren’t quite expecting it to be so bright. You knew the overhead world was nowhere near as dark as it was in the Underground City, you’d seen the rays of light spilling down from the toll gate but never in your life had you expected life to seem so..,

Vibrant.

Blinking a few times, you almost had to force yourself to remember your circumstances, gently pulling against your chains. The look of awe on your face was unmistakable.

“Holy shit…” you breathed, eyes now wide as you took in your surroundings. It was warm up here. Really warm. The sun gently beating down on the busy streets. Levi appeared next to you, pushing you forward to continue up the stairs.

“Don’t get used to it, you’ll be in a cell before long,” you were expecting to catch some satisfaction in his tone, but there was nothing other than contempt. You took a breath, managing to resist attempting to kick his shin as you kept climbing the stairs, now fully embraced in the sun’s light. Though it didn’t last as long as you would have liked. Sooner than you deemed necessary, if you were honest, a carriage clattered up in front of you. It was surprisingly lavish considering you were a criminal. Squinting in suspicion, your hesitation only earned a rough push against the back of your head.

“Get in.”

“You never were one for manners were you?” you drawled after stumbling clumsily into the carriage. The plush leather seats squeaking against your own getup, leather on leather disagreeing with each other.

“Not when it comes to people like you, no,” the raven haired man took up a seat opposite you, immediately folding his arms as staring out the small, curtained window. A muscle in your jaw flickered in irritation.

“People like me? You mean people like you? Or have you really forgotten where you came from? Did you lose brain cells as well as your sense of self?” god you just wouldn’t let up, would you? Levi rolled his eyes, successfully masking how much he hated the way you spoke to him. Like nothing ever happened between you. He understood. Of course he did. He knew why you were so upset. Why you were trying so hard to hurt him. He knew you wanted him to hurt the same way you did, but knowing what you were doing wasn’t going to stop the spear you kept repeatedly driving into his heart.

You attempted to shift ever so slightly, just so your hands weren’t painfully crushed against your back. Once again the thought of kicking him crossed your mind, but the situation wasn’t exactly in your favour right now.

It was only a few moments of awkward, deafening silence before you two were joined by both Erwin and Hange, the latter opting to sit next to you, seemingly not worried about whether or not you could still skin her alive even with your wrists bound. Erwin sat a respectable distance from you, despite the size of the carriage. The man barely fit, it was only because of your own size and the size of Levi did you assume you were all able to travel together. That still didn’t stop the man opposite you from throwing you a disgusted look as your knee grazed his. Just to piss him off, you did it again.

“SO! Raven, you’re joining the Scouts?” Hange blurted out, earning her a glare from Levi, a sigh from Erwin and a baffled scoff from you.

“Yeeeaaah… no. That’s not happening.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter,” Erwin chimed in, almost defeatedly.

“Why don’t you just do what you usually do with criminals? Hang me as some sick entertainment for the public.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Levi…” Erwin warned lowly, to which Levi simply clicked his tongue in response.

Shit, that one hurt. He really didn’t care for you anymore, did he?

Once again, if you had your hands free, you would have run them through your hair. Joining the Scouts? That was never really something that ever crossed your mind. It didn’t seem to make sense. Why on earth would they want to draft you in? The question was swiftly pushed from your mind, replaced by another. Something you’d been burning to know ever since you realised the Scouts knew your location.

“Who was it?” you asked quietly, staring at your feet. Levi stiffened, shifting his eyes from the window back to you. Your demeanor struck a chord with him. You looked defeated, shoulders hunched over. “Who betrayed us? I just want to know.”

A heavy silence settled over the trio, none of them wanting to be the one who broke the news. The bond and connection between you and your Nest was strong. Trust ran through your veins, so to have it broken by any one of them was already shattering your very being.

“A woman. Brown hair, blue eyes. Scarlett, I think her name was,” at that moment, everything seemed to stop. Your world froze. It was Scarlett. Your own lover. Your wife. The woman you trusted more than any of them. She had betrayed you. Betrayed all of you. She was the one who put Una’s life in danger. The one who was responsible for the scar across her neck she would carry forever.

The three Scouts looked at each other, each not really knowing how you would react. Not even you knew how you were going to react. You were stuck in limbo. Everything and nothing was going through your mind. You didn’t know how long you’d sat there staring at nothing, simply trying to process this information, but it must have been an uncomfortably long time, if Erwin’s awkward throat clearing was any indication, gently bringing you back from your thought spiral.

“Oh.” was all you could manage, still not able to raise your head. Your eyes started to burn after not blinking for seemingly too long. How could she? How could she betray you? To the Military Police, of all people. You hadn’t cried for a very, very long time, but damn you were close.

Shit this entire ordeal had been difficult, but seeing you so defeated was next level. Levi dug his fingernails into his palm to stop himself from holding you. From comforting you. He still knew you well enough to tell when something was wrong. Very wrong. And although his stomach twisted slightly with the ideas of who this woman was running through his head, it was all he could do to tear his eyes from your hunched shoulders, returning his gaze to the window as the world passed him by.

“Did you know her?”

“Why would I tell you?” you tilt your head, glaring at Hange next to you, your jaw clenched. You may have just felt the last remaining fragment of your heart shatter, but that didn’t mean you would give them any more information than you had to.

“Raven, I give you my word, we will leave The Nest be,” Erwin tried his hand at reassuring you. None of this made any sense. Why were they being nice? Don’t they know how many soldiers you and your people had slaughtered? How much you had stolen from their warehouses?

You raised your eyes, seeing Levi glancing at you cautiously. Silver hues flicking over your defeated form with that same, cemented expression of boredom, before slowly looking back to the window. You spent the rest of the journey in silence, going over all the events that had led to this moment. How you could have possibly let this happen.

You trusted Prongs. You knew he would take care of your family. But Scarlett…

The bony claws of betrayal grasped your throat, gently squeezing until it became difficult to breathe. The walls of the carriage started closing in around you. Helplessness tainting the corners of your mind. You were stranded. Captured and soon to be forced into the military. To face those titans you’d heard so many people talk about.

You’d found the first man to ever hold your heart. You’d lost him, and then you’d found him again. And you could almost feel his hatred for you.

And though you put on a brave face. Though you put on an act to convince him you felt the same…

You couldn’t find it in your fractured heart to return his hatred.

The gentle, rhythmic clopping of hooves came to a slow stop, the door opening outwards to let the four of you out. Hange hopped down the step with seemingly boundless energy, before immediately engaging in conversation with a taller, worried looking man. Erwin stepped down, but once again you refused to move. If you could make their lives as difficult as possible, you would. Pure spite was fueling you now, your only current reason to carry on.

“Oi, move,” it was a blunt command, and one you paid no mind to. Not even raising your head to acknowledge Levi had said anything. “Hey. Did you lose your hearing on the way here? I said move,” a sharp kick to your shin prompted you to tilt your chin just enough to shoot another one of your glares in his direction. He too had to keep up his charade until he could get you alone and finally have a proper conversation.

“Go to hell,” was your only response, heavily debating spitting in his face as his hands once again grasped your arm. You flinched ever so slightly at the contact, something that didn’t go unnoticed, but it appeared Levi didn’t care.

Levi did care. Holy shit did Levi care. What the hell had happened to you to prompt you to flinch in such a way? Who the fuck had laid their hands on you? Who the fuck had hurt you like that? He allowed the rage to course through his veins, before letting it simmer down. He would deal with that later.

You stumbled as you were almost thrown from the carriage, knees colliding with the stone beneath you before you were dragged back to your feet

That fucking hurt. You started to think that maybe you could return his hatred. The next chance you got, you were driving you knee into his fucking gut. But for now, you decided to settle your glare on Erwin as he was talking to a darker haired man who kept glancing in your direction. It’s only now you realised your condition. You were filthy, mud and grime greasing your hair, blood and small cuts littering your face and knuckles, a dark bruise blossoming on the underside of your chin. Levi’s hand still held you firm, preventing you from even attempting to escape. Not that you would. You really couldn’t see the point, other than running into titan territory yourself. You tensed as the tall, haggard looking man approached you, apprehension mixed with disgust clouded his eyes, but it was an expression you refused to flinch away from.

“The Raven?” you couldn’t help raising a brow.

“Stupid fucking question. No, I'm just an innocent bystander dressed like The Raven for a costume party. I just so happened to think a pair of manacles clasped around my wrists completed the look,” you hissed sarcastically, and you could have sworn you heard something that could resemble a laugh from behind you, but it was so miniscule it was difficult to tell. If only this had been ten years ago.

You watched with satisfaction as a muscle twitched in his jaw, before the man managed to compose himself.

“My name is Niles Dok, Commander of the Military Police soldiers you seem to have so much fun slaughtering,” he introduced himself in a way that made it seem like the last thing he wanted to be doing was introducing himself to you right now.

“So? Do you want a written apology or something? Have to take these chains off me first,” you spat, with the innocent smile of an adder. This seemed to rile the man up more, to the point where he fisted your hair painfully, yanking your head up. His voice lowered to a dangerous murmur.

“Listen you little whore, I don’t know which door to hell you crawled out of, but I have men specially trained to deal with rats like you. They take pleasure in every agonised scream they can rip from your filthy mouth,” you refused to let your panicked, racing heart rule your mind, using every ounce of mental strength to hold his stare, firing back with a nasty glare of your own. And it took all of Levi’s willpower not to launch himself at the MP Commander.

“Go fuck yourself,” the retort came so naturally as you actually spat in his face. It gained you a much more satisfying reaction than you imagined you would get from Levi.

Swiftly removing his hand from your hair, you slumped back, staring up at the man between the now dishevelled strands. Wiping your saliva from his eye. You flinched as the back of his hand came up to strike you. Quicker than you would have expected, Levi was immediately by your side, eyes glinting with murderous intent. But before anything could happen, Niles’ hand was caught by Erwin behind him.

“Now, now Niles. Don’t go harming my soldiers,” his voice was borderline condescending as the MP Commander turned to look back to Erwin with an expression of disbelief.

“You can’t be serious? Erwin, this wasn’t part of the deal. You said—”

“I said we would aid you in capturing her. What happens to her after, is up to us. Think of it as collateral,” he reminded Niles of the deal they had struck before their meeting earlier.

“I didn’t think you would force her to join the Scouts. Are you insane?” It was a question Erwin had heard many times before.

“She’s just another calculated risk,” —he explained, before turning to his Captain— “Levi, take her to where she’ll be staying for the next week,” you had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on, but honestly, you were just glad Erwin stepped in when he did. You didn’t fancy whatever strike was about to land on you, and didn’t want to deal with whatever trauma it would drag up from your less than agreeable past. You didn’t have nearly enough time to unpack Levi’s own movements.

“Tch, why me? Why not Four Eyes?” his eyes slid to the scientist, who seemed to be engaged in an increasingly elaborate conversation with that poor, poor soldier. Even you felt a pang of pity for him.

“Because I’m afraid if I let Hange take her, she’ll end up in her lab rather than the cell,” Erwin sighed tiredly, looking at Levi with almost pleading eyes as the conversation behind him got louder and louder.

“Fine. But you owe me,” he responded, before tugging you away with him. You were almost sorry when you no longer felt the warmth of the sun on your back as he led you inside.

It was a walk full of disgusted glares and crude remarks. Clearly everyone had heard who you were by now, if that wasn’t evident by the snarls of “Bitch” and “Underground rat.” It didn’t really phase you. What these people thought about you was their issue, not yours. Though, you wouldn’t mind beating every single one of them within an inch of their lives given half the chance.

You failed to notice Levi’s ever darkening expression behind you. The glares promising a painful death thrown in every direction. The way a muscle flickered in his jaw at every passing comment. It was only until the hallway was empty did he feel that tension ease a little.

“Down here,” Levi instructed, leading you down a narrow staircase. As if you could go anywhere else.

“Yeah, no shit,” you snapped, earning you a harsh shoved down a few stairs.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why? Afraid you won’t understand me?” that feigned sweetness to your tone was one you had perfected over the years he was gone, and was possibly your favourite form of sarcasm. He clearly didn’t dain your retort worthy of a response, the only sound to be heard being the echoing of your boots against the stone. It reeked of damp and rust, a different stench to the filth of the Underground. Speaking of which…

“You’re disgusting,” a flatly delivered insult was thrown your way as Levi guided you into one of the cells.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to have a shower before you ambushed us. I’ll be sure to remember next time so I can smell like a fresh forest. I’m sure it would be a more homely smell for you,” you couldn’t help the sarcastic remarks that flew from your mouth. But you fell silent as he began removing your manacles. Instantly a plan formulated in your head. This could be your only chance at escaping. You just had to wait for the right moment.

As soon as the chains were removed from your wrists, you thrust your head backwards, in hope of catching his face. But you were met with nothing but air, and the sounds of quick footsteps behind you.

“You’re even easier to predict now you’re in a cell. Don’t try stupid shit like that,” did he forget how to change the emotion in his voice? He was never the most emotional person you’d met, but he would at least sometimes change his voice from ‘bored’ to ‘slightly irritated’. You were starting to wonder what else he had forgotten during his time here when the iron bar door to your cell was slammed shut, the key clicking in the lock. Now you were certain you couldn’t escape, you took in your living space for the next week. The bare minimum had been provided. A bed with no bed clothes, a rustic sink you weren’t even sure worked, and a broken mirror. Great.

The scraping of a chair behind you piqued your curiosity, turning you head to see Levi had taken a seat in front of your cell door, elbows resting on his knees.

“The fuck are you doing?” you asked, rising from your knees to turn and lean against the wall, arms folded.

“Waiting,” god damn his single word responses. You huff in frustration.

“Waiting for what?”

“You.”

“I could strangle you with my bare hands and feel absolutely nothing right now.”

“You’d have to escape first.”

“What makes you think I can’t?”

“What makes you think you can?”

As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. There didn’t seem to be any way you could escape these walls, you’d already done a quick run down. Threading your hands through your hair in irritation, you cross to sit on the pathetic material they thought was a bed.

“So?” you ask, still no closing to knowing what the hell he wanted. Once again, he didn’t deem your question worthy of a vocal response, opting instead to raise a thin eyebrow. You briefly fantasise about driving one of your long lost daggers into his goddamn eye, before simply brushing it off with a roll of your eyes. “Fine. Stay there and stare at me. It’s your time you're wasting,” you shrugged, flopping back onto the bed, arms thrown out either side of you.

“What have you been up to?” you couldn’t help the bark of sour laughter at the question.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“After all this time, the first thing you ask me is what I’ve been up to?”

“Would you prefer me to ask you something else?”

“What’s on the menu?”

For a moment, it almost felt like no time had passed since you’d last seen each other. It felt like only yesterday did he have you in his arms, curled up in his bed, gently running his hands over your exposed waist, revelling in how soft your skin was against his.

Running a hand through his dark locks to bring himself out of his thoughts, he changed the trajectory of his questioning.

“Who taught you to fight like that?

“Self-taught.”

“Bullshit,” you winced at his response, raising your head slightly to stare at him, wondering who gave him the audacity to doubt you.

“Oh yeah? Not all of us had the advantage of stupidly strong genes, shortstuff,” shit, you hadn’t said that nickname in a long, long time. Clearly he hadn’t heard it for a long time either, judging by the way his eyes widened his body stilled. Neither of you were able to comment on the irony of the name, considering you were just as vertically challenged. Managing to shake yourself from your daze first, you realised that was a lot for both of you. “Sorry,” you murmured, averting your gaze.

“No, it’s… fine,” there was no malice in his voice. No hatred, a surprise that caused you to turn your head back to face him. Levi cleared his throat before continuing. “How’d you get that scar?” the second question caught you off guard, not expecting anything so personal so quickly. Naturally, you responded with something sarcastic.

“Tea party gone wrong,” an irritated sigh echoed off the dank walls, clearly not satisfied with your answer.

“What happened to you, Raven...?” if it wasn’t for the acoustics of the room, you would have missed the comment, but your heart clenched painfully as the third question reached your ears.

“You left, so I moved on,” you didn’t mean to sound so small or vulnerable. You didn’t mean to drag your knees up to your chest and clasp your arms around them. You didn’t mean to turn your head again, avoiding his gaze.

Levi mentally begged you not to look that way. He’d never seen you so insecure. And that itself broke his resolve.

Standing from his chair, Levi crossed the small space to the barred doors, not thinking twice about unlocking it and leaving the key in the lock. His body was almost acting on a it’s own. Years of taking you into his arms and holding you suddenly came back to him and he wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms once again.

But he hesitated.

You both did.

After raising your head to look at him, you watched as he stopped in the centre of your cell. Almost as if he was silently asking for some sort of permission to just do something.

You shifted slightly so you were leaning against the iron bars rather than the stone wall to the back, Levi taking this as the silent permission he needed to take a seat next to you.

Shit, the instinct to throw yourself into his arms was almost overwhelming, but you refrained, not wanting that kernel of hope to smoulder into nothing when he rejected you.

Levi was the first to break the silence.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you responded, looking up to him between the loose, mangled strands of hair now obscuring your face just a bit. Age had been kind to him. His features, now much more defined. He was still the same man you knew back then, but this one was more chiseled. You looked away when his eyes found yours.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

It wasn’t the exchange you were expecting, this quick back and forth, but you wouldn’t say it was unwelcome. A familiar warmth started to spread in your chest.

“How’s the jaw?” you asked, eyes wandering to the now hefty bruise against his pale, soft skin. You remembered when you used to leave marks of similar colour all over his body. His neck, collarbones, abdomen, thighs…

“‘S’fine. How’s the chin?” his own eyes slid back to you, silver irises scanning your face briefly.

“Yeah. Fine,” you let the silence settle for a moment, before breaking it again. “Sorry I kicked you,” Levi grunted in quiet amusement.

“It was a damn good plan. Sorry I knee’d you,” it was only when he heard your gentle chuckle did he realise just how much he’d missed you. Every fibre in his body was begging him to roughly tug you into his body. To cup your face in his hands and seal your lips with a burning kiss. But all that changed when he shifted slightly and you flinched at the sudden movement. He stilled, waiting for you to relax again before he too settled back down.

“You knew her, didn’t you?” it was a rhetorical question. Your reaction after the reveal told him everything. Not only did you know her, but she was somebody close to you.

You stayed silent for a couple moments, not really knowing how to respond to his shift in conversation. You decided to match it.

“Yeah. I did,” you wouldn’t tell him. Not unless he asked. You wouldn’t tell him who she was to you. What she was to you. That still fucking hurt like hell.

“‘M’sorry.”

“You say that a lot,”

“You’re one to talk,”

You didn’t even try to quell your small laugh, letting it echo off the stone walls. Even Levi couldn’t stop a small chuckle at your amusement, feeling himself completely at ease in your presence.

“Did you really move on?” it was his turn to feel small. His turn to feel a little vulnerable. He couldn’t bear the thought of you just moving on from what the two of you had. Just throwing it all in the past and leaving it there.

“Yes and no.”

“The hell does that mean?”

You sighed, tightening your grip around your knees. You hoped this wouldn’t be as painful for him to hear as it would be for you to say, but you didn’t hold out much hope.

“Yes, I moved on. I’m not the same girl I was. Trust me on that. I’m not the same girl you fell in love with, nor the girl who fell in love with you,” you had to take a breath, suddenly finding the air down here far too thick. “She wouldn’t have survived down there. That girl would have been killed by some pig the moment you left. So... I killed her myself. You already know I’ve been part of The Nest for a while, but I wasn’t really one of them, if you get what I mean. I didn’t stay with them, I didn’t eat with them. Sure, Viper took me in after my—“ you stopped, burying that can of worms before you even opened it. That wasn’t something you wanted to bring up right now. “Viper took me in, taught me a few things, but I stayed with you. I didn’t have to be one of them when I was with you. But when you left… I didn’t exactly have a choice. I couldn’t be so naive anymore. I couldn’t be so hopeful. I had to be realistic, and to be realistic, I had to hurt a lot of people. I had to see a lot of things,” you allowed the weight of your words to settle before you continued. “But that girl. That girl you knew. She never stopped loving you. Up til the moment she drew her last breath and I took over. She loved you. But I moved on,” you fell silent, realising that yes, this had been just as painful for him to hear as it was for you to say.

It was a long while before Levi spoke again, nowhere near as confident as he was.

“That’s who she was to you,” just as he thought seeing you again couldn’t get anymore painful. Just as he thought your words couldn’t get anymore painful. “You loved her?”

“Yes, but not completely. Part of me was still devoted to you. I think that’s why she did what she did. Scarlett was never a spiteful person, but she did hold one hell of a grudge against you. And I suppose, in a way, me,” the silence was so thick you thought you could cut it with one of your blades.

“She’s still there.”

“Hm?”

“That girl. She’s still there. You’re still in there.”

“Now look who’s being naïve,”

“You’re trying to tell me this new, supposedly ruthless killer would kick the shit out of some soldiers for hurting a kid. You’re trying to tell me this new cold hearted thief would bring medicine to an elderly woman and her son?”

“I—”

“You’re telling me this new, heartless little dealer would earn the respect and thanks of thousands of Underground rats? Because to me, that sounds like bullshit… (Y/N),” he wouldn’t accept it. You weren’t gone, he could see it in your actions. You were still there. His (Y/N) was still in there.

Hearing your name in his low, warm tone after all this time sent a jolt through your system. And when he turned to look at you, he could see silver lining your eyes. It took everything in him not to reach up and gently wipe them away.

“I’m not going to stop until you see what I see. I’m not going to let you think you’ve become this heartless, mindless killer just because you had to adapt. Because you had to survive. I’ve finally found you again. Do you know how long I searched for you? How many hours I spent tracing every single path I knew you would take. Asking every filthy mongrel I could find. Most of them said you were dead. Some of them said you were missing and hadn’t been seen in months. Years, even. But until I found a body, or some kind of proof you were dead, I couldn’t accept it,” well this certainly caught you off guard. Levi was never one for long, heartfelt speeches, or verbal communication at all, actually. So this was a little overwhelming. Two tears slipped down your cheeks, sliding through the sudden cracks in your defenses and leaving a trail through the thin layer of grime and dirt.

Levi kept his eyes trained ahead, knowing that if he saw you crying, his restraint would break and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from holding you. But he knew he couldn’t. From the way you’d reacted to his small movements, he knew suddenly tugging you into him would scare you.

“I’m sorry,” your small voice wrapped around his fragile heart, both settling it and cracking it. He went to extend his hand towards you with the intention of smoothing down your hair, but the way you winced, almost anticipating something much more intense, made him stop. Shit, you really did look like a husk of your former self. He remembered the way your eyes used to glint even in the low lighting of the Underground.

“You should rest,” it was an appealing enough suggestion. Enough to draw a barely concealed yawn from you. Leaning your head against the iron bars behind you, you swore you could have fallen asleep there and then. Comforted by his presence.

You immediately missed his presence as soon as he stood, tempted to reach out for his hand but not wanting to push him away.

As if he felt your confliction, Levi stopped to turn back to you.

“I’ll be back in the morning. Rest, (Y/N),” it wasn’t like you could disobey when your mind and body was so eager to sleep.

“Fuck…” you muttered, running a hand down the side of your face, exhaustion hitting you like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t exactly how you saw your day going today, but you couldn’t exactly say you weren’t thankful. You didn’t know what you were, honestly. So much had happened, you knew you would need time to process everything.

The screech of metal against metal alerted you to the key once again locking you within the cell. Dipping your head, you watched the dark haired man return the keychain to a small nail in the wall.

“Hey…” Levi turned to you as you called out, his expression as soft as it was a few moments ago. “It’s really good to see you again,” a thousand butterflies suddenly exploded in his stomach. How long had he been waiting to hear those words? And suddenly, he found himself unable to reply.

“Tch, go to sleep, Raven,” he reveled in your amused hum as he turned on his heel, leaving you to recover after today.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Levi ran a hand through his hair. Sitting at his desk in his orderly kept office, he could barely focus on the reports in front of him. That haunted look in your eyes had left a significant mark on him. The way you now spoke was so different to the bubbly younger girl he knew.

With a shake of his head, he attempted to divert his attention back to the account of the mission today. You’d taken down a few of his men yourself, he recalled watching your blades find purchase in his makeshift squad. A few others hadn’t returned from where they’d chased your Shadows. Actually, most others didn’t return.

As predicted, it was a bloodbath.

Leaning forward, he reached for his tea, continuing to scan over the document until his eyes settled on your alias, and he couldn’t help but wonder why you hadn’t told anyone your name. It prompted a memory he wasn’t expecting. He’d tried so many times to bury his past. Thinking about it saved him from thinking about his lost friends. But it was unavoidable.

“Hey! ‘Re’ya gonna buy anything? Or you just gonna keep staring?” Levi peaked out from behind the legs of a taller man, peering at the young girl who seemed to be giving his father figure sass. He couldn’t understand it. Didn’t she know who he was? She didn’t look much older than him. Maybe eight? Nine even?

“Listen little missy, I don’t think you wan’ to rush me,” the southern lilt of Kenny’s dangerously low voice didn’t seem to deter the little merchant. Levi’s eyes widened as she folded her arms, her grubby face creasing as she frowned. For someone so young, she certainly had an impressive glare.

“Or what? You gonna kill me? I sell to the whole street, mister. You kill me, they starve,” Wow, she really seemed to have this whole thing going for her. Levi looked up at Kenny, able to just make out the subtle smile under the shadow of his hat.

“What’s your name, little girl?

“Hmph. What’s it to you?” she retorted, stepping closer. It was only then she seemed to notice his presence. Her glare seemed to soften almost instantly, head tilting in sheer curiosity. Her sparkling, (E/C) eyes widened upon seeing him there. He only occupied a fraction of her attention, before it returned to Kenny, that scowl also returning.

“You’ve got guts kid, I’ll give you that. But maybe that’s simply cuz you don’t know who I am,” he mused, picking up one of the loaves of bread you were currently selling. They weren’t fresh. Nothing ever was. But it was the best your family had to offer.

“Kenny the Ripper, right? Yeah, I’ve heard of you. Seen your ugly face in the newspaper when those shits up top toss their trash through the grates. And you better buy that now your filthy hands have been all over it,” Levi couldn’t tell if this girl was brave or stupid. He’d never heard anyone speak to Kenny like that and actually get away with it.

“(Y/N) (L/N)! Watch your language young lady! And what have I told you about mouthing off to customers?!” her face quickly morphed from a glare to something he could only describe as sheepish. An older woman leaning out from the door behind you. Her hair colour was different to yours, but those eyes… they were your eyes.

“But Maaaaa, I was just—“

“No buts. Inside, now,” her voice was stern, but Levi was perceptive from a young age. He could see the softness in her eyes as the girl pouted. Turning back, he watched her send a cheery wave goodbye in his direction, pausing slightly as it wasn’t returned. Her brows furrowed, before she darted inside.

“Quite the brat you got there,” Kenny remarked, handing over a coin in payment for the bread he’d picked up.

“Yeah, sorry about her. Pain in my ass but her heart’s in the right place. I hope,” Levi wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation, too distracted by watching the same girl clamber out the open window and onto the ledge above. Only using her right hand to climb, she paused, as if calculating something before shimmying along the wall, round the corner and out of sight. Before Levi even had time to question what the hell he’d just witnessed, her head popped round the corner, eyes searching for him. He raised his brows in question when she gestured for him, whipping back round the corner. Seeing Kenny still caught up in conversation, he quietly left the two adults, heading for the narrow alleyway she’d just ducked into.

“Hey,” the whisper made him whirl, stopping to see her cautiously step from the shadows near the wall. “You looked hungry, so I stole this from our stocks,” it became apparent as to why she was only using one hand to climb when she presented another, slightly smaller loaf of bread. It wasn’t as stale as the ones on the stall. “We got fresh ingredients yesterday. My father’s a baker but we only sell the stale ones because we wouldn’t be able to keep up with the demand for fresh bread,” she explained quietly, her eyes wide in earnest. If it wasn’t for his ravenous hunger, Levi would have declined the offer. However, the smell was too good to pass up on. Slowly, he reached for it, half expecting her to snatch it back. But her honest expression remained, only retracting her hand after he’d taken a bite. “Don’t talk much, do you? That’s okay, I get a lot of people who are shy.”

Crossing her legs, she lowered herself to the floor, resting her back against the wall to what he could only assume was her house. He followed suit, sitting opposite her in the damp alleyway.

“Your dad’s an asshole, by the way. Very obkonshus,” Levi assumed she was trying to say obnoxious, but didn’t correct her. He almost found it endearing.

“He’s not my dad,” his blunt response had her head whipping back to look at him, almost in disbelief that he had actually spoken. A small blush blossomed across her cheeks at her mistake.

“O-oh. Sorry. I didn’t know,” an awkward silence settled over them, before she spoke up again. “Your not-dad’s an asshole,” Levi glanced at her, noting her cheeky smirk. His own lips twitched in amusement. She wasn’t wrong. Kenny was an asshole.

They stayed there until he’d finished his bread, (Y/N) simply talking about everything and nothing.

“Where’d that little rat scurry away to?” Kenny’s drawl interrupted your little conversation, prompting the both of you to shoot to your feet. The girl shot him a worried look, not knowing how this was going to play out. Levi was never one to offer reassurance, never really needing to, until now. He tried his hand at a reassuring expression, before stepping out the alleyway a little.

“Here, I was just—” he looked back to the narrow street where she just was, only to find she’d completely disappeared. His eyes widened ever so slightly, attempting to peer further down the alley. How had she done that? She was right there. Maybe you’d already started your climb? His eyes travelled up the side of the wall, but found nothing.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at brat? C’mon, we’re leavin’,'' Kenny strode past him, roughly tugging him along. But Levi wasn’t looking where he was going, silver eyes still glued to that alley, waiting for her to emerge. But she never did.

A harsh knock on his door snapped him out of his memory spiral. How long had he been sitting here? Usually he had a good grasp on time but right now it could have been four in the morning or two in the afternoon. Running a hand down the side of his face, he went to sip his tea, grimacing as the now cold liquid graced his tongue. Setting it down almost immediately, he would have forgotten anyone knocked on his door in the first place had they not knocked again.

“Levi? Are you in there?” Erwin. Great.

“The fuck do you want Eyebrows?” Erwin clearly took that as permission to enter. Not that he needed permission.

Levi raised his eyes as his Commander strode in, pushing the door closed behind him.

“I was wondering if you managed to get information out of our little criminal.”

Levi’s jaw flexed.

“No.”

“Nothing?” Erwin seemed a little surprised and Levi couldn’t for the life of him think why. He didn’t know about your relationship, and it wasn’t like he was well practiced in his social skills.

“Nothing. She’s refusing to say anything other than annoying, sarcastic quips.”

“You two aren’t so different then.”

“Oi,” Erwin chuckled at Levi’s low warning, holding up an apologetic hand.

“Apologies, forgive me. It was just a joke,” Levi rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue as Erwin took a seat on the leather sofa, crossing an ankle over his knee. “I’m surprised. I thought you two may get along. Considering your shared upbringing,” if he wasn’t talking to Levi, anyone else would have thought it was an innocent enough assumption. But over the years, Levi had learned Erwin’s tells, and knew when there was something deeper going on. But still, there was no way he could know about your literal shared past.

“She’s abrasive, rude, cocky and thoroughly unpleasant. Why on earth would we get along?” Levi knew he was lying through his teeth. Whilst yes, you were in fact abrasive, cocky and rude, you were far from unpleasant. He wouldn’t have shared his heart with you if you were.

Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he looked incredibly tired, like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Did you know her? From your time down there. Did you two ever run into each other?” straight to the point, it seemed. Erwin hadn’t missed the Captain’s flash of recognition back when you’d taken your mask off. He hadn’t missed the way he froze to the spot.

But Levi wasn’t about to open up to anyone, especially not the same Commander that had dragged him kicking and screaming into the Scouts.

Truth be told, after that first interaction, Levi had tried his damndest to see you again at every opportunity. He’d never been shown that sort of kindness since his mother died, and he didn’t want your little spark to be snuffed out by the Underground. He didn’t speak to you very often, only silently offering to walk you home at night, warding off any unwanted attention a young woman would draw.

He offered to share his small home with you when you were both around fourteen. It had been two years since Kenny abandoned him, and he noticed you looked directionless, and though it had taken a while for you to open up, he was happy for you to stay with him until you found somewhere else.

He just never expected to fall in love with you, or for you to fall in love with him.

“No. I’ve never seen her before,” Levi lied, keeping his eyes trained on the same document he must have been staring at for the last god knows how long, too lost in his own mind to concentrate.

Erwin wasn’t quite as good at reading Levi, and so accepted that as his truthful answer.

“Very well, I bid you a good night, Captain,” ah. So it was nighttime. Noted.

“Yeah yeah, see you tomorrow,” Levi waved his hand dismissively, once again earning another chuckle from Erwin as the door was pulled shut.

Levi almost instinctively reached for his tea again, only just remembering it was stone cold. He sighed in irritation, rising from his chair. He didn’t think there was enough tea in the world to help him sort through his thoughts. But damn if it didn’t make it easier.

Rolling his now stiff shoulders, he picked up the cold brew and headed to the kitchen. It was going to be a long night.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Sleeping in the Underground City was a luxury. Despite your exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily. You assumed you must have dozed off for an hour at least before the faint sound of multiple footsteps had you sitting bolt upright, your muscles barking in protest. You were always aware of your surroundings. Always ready, even when you may look like you were resting.

You didn’t quite know what to expect, quickly running through several scenarios and possibilities in your head. One of those possibilities rounded the corner from the stairs. Four MP soldiers now stood outside your cell, one jiggling the keys into the lock. Immediately you stood, not going down without a fight. Though it wasn’t much of one. Before you had even landed a proper blow on any of them, you were harshly kicked to the floor. Your body having not woken up properly yet, you were easy enough to subdue as they clasped your wrists together in front of you with rope. Not what you were expecting but it was more comfortable than behind your back.

You stayed silent as they dragged you further deeper into the complex of jails and cells. You didn’t imagine they would span this far beneath what you assumed was the headquarters, but nonetheless you kept walking until you were faced with a wooden door. The same soldier fiddled with the lock until it swung open and you were kicked inside.

Raising your head, you saw the room wasn’t exactly empty. An array of bats and blunt trauma objects rested against the far side of the wall, but that wasn’t what threw the spear of terror into your heart.

A single, iron hook extended down from the ceiling. It looked like it would be used for bleeding or drying meat, but you could think of several other uses for it. For example, your current situation.

The door locking behind you had your head whirling, eyes darting from the man with the key to the wood that now trapped you inside.

“Ah, Raven. I’m sure our commander forewarned you about this, I don’t really know why you look so surprised,” you shivered at the fake pleasant tone, a stark contrast to the way you were now being tugged to your feet, arms thrown up above you. You realise now why they used rope instead of chains, your wrists being hooked up above you. Your feet now only just grazing the floor, head falling between your shoulders with your loose thin shirt riding up your stomach. You suddenly regretted shedding your leather jacket earlier, wanting to be a little more comfortable as you attempted to sleep.

“We have strict instructions not to permanently damage you, however we have various other methods,” one of your torturers stalked behind you, reaching up to twist the hook so you spun with him, now facing the wall of weaponry. The other three who had accompanied you all leant against the wall to you right, as if waiting for their turn. “I thought I would be kind enough to let you choose which we start with. Since you’d be the one on the receiving end,” the sick fuck. He was really enjoying this wasn’t he?

“At least tell me what you fucking want,” you spat, thrashing slightly in your bonds. The man simply laughed, crossing to the selection.

“Oh, we don’t want information. Just for you to suffer as much pain as we did when you killed our comrades,” ah, so they had personal connections. Understood.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” your crooked, satisfied grin faltered as his expression darkened, crossing the room towards you in a few strides. Roughly grabbing your chin, he forced your head up to meet his gaze as you writhed in his tight grip.

“You know, you were quite the formidable criminal down there. Slaughtering and murdering whoever you pleased. Harming those who had done nothing to you. But look at you now, strung up like a squealing pig. Fuck, if it isn’t satisfying to see,” he threw your head back down before driving his foot into your gut. The impact sent you swinging backwards, saliva flying from your mouth.

Raising your eyes, you shot him a visceral glare as he browsed his collection of weapons as if he was picking out a pastry at a bakery. Opting for the classic wooden bat, you braced yourself for the night to come, knowing it was going to be a long one.

[glowingbadger]

do you have anything in the ask box abt sfw + nsfw hcs w caspar and linhardt??-- if not, could i rq them pls?

Two Very Good Boys TM why have I not written more for them yet lol - especially Lin, he's a fav of mine for sure~

Also. Can I just say. Linhardt has so much Game. Like, half of his support chains end with him being like "what if we fucked and/or got married haha jk... unless?" and the other person just 👀👉👈

Caspar, Linhardt x GN Reader

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

Caspar:

- Caspar is as intense and energetic about love as he is about everything else. His feelings for you grow steadily as you work together as friends and allies, and he eventually realizes that there's a reason why he's always bizarrely excited for dull monastery chores like supply runs and patrols when he's assigned with you.

- When he finally confesses, it's in the middle of some such chore. He's been staring at you oddly as you work, until he abruptly says your name, then blurts out, "I think I'm in love with you." He practically shouts it at you, his eyes fiery and his face red. Once you work past the shock of the moment and affirm that you feel the same, he pumps a fist in the air, then laughs as he lifts you and spins you in a circle.

- He's not exactly "smooth" and doesn't have much romantic experience, but his unwavering sincerity and desire to be good to you makes up significantly for these. He's terrible at surprise gifts, since he always wants to get you something you'll love, so he'll spoil it by saying something like "So how do you feel about danishes??" right before heading to the best bakery in town. But when you thank him, wearing one of those warm, genuine smiles- he just melts, and he figures he doesn't have to be smooth or clever as long as he can make you smile like that.

- This. Man. Is a Cuddler. He doesn't like to be "mushy" in public, but he truly adores every-day physical displays of affection. He can't help swinging your hands a little when your fingers are laced during a walk through town, and if you're alone together, he just habitually has to be holding or touching you somehow. Caspar was never one to sit still for long- until he realizes that holding you to his chest while the two of you chat on his bed is completely addictive.

Linhardt:

- Oh Lin, this beautiful weirdo. For a long while, you won't get much of a love confession from him; instead, he just continuously puts himself near you. He doesn't need anything from you, and there's no pressure to keep him occupied in conversation- he just finds he's soothed in your presence. He doesn't question it until he finds himself even choosing your company over his studies or sleep. Then, for some time, he actually finds this new feeling rather disturbing.

- Finally, you're both enjoying a sunny afternoon, reading, casually chatting a bit, him dozing off periodically. In a quiet moment when you'd assumed he was fast asleep, he instead turns towards you and quite suddenly says, "If I were to tell you that I find myself quite insistent upon being near you at every possible opportunity, how would you describe that feeling?" when you don't give an immediate response, he follows this up with, "Would you consider that romantic attraction? Perhaps I really have fallen for you... hm..."

- Linhardt doesn't have much of a memory for birthdays and holidays (his mind is generally occupied with any number of other things), but you're not likely to find yourself doubting his feelings for you, nor his commitment. That's because he's very blunt about telling you. The delicate propriety of the nobility is of very little concern to him, so he feels no hesitation about placing a kiss to your lips in the middle of the (very occupied) library and telling you, "My, you are exceptionally lovely today." Before, of course, returning to his search for whatever tome he'd insisted he needs to review for his latest topic of interest.

- He is an excellent listener when you've had a stressful day or are in a bad mood. Though you will need to tell him directly if you're just looking to vent, because he's one to always think of a straightforward solution for you. But, as a creature of his comforts, Lin is wonderful at helping you relax. He'll hold you and rub small circles along your back until one or both of you dozes off- if you need it, he'll even force himself to stay up long enough to talk more, or recite some list of known crest effects until his gentle, even voice lulls you to sleep.

NSFW 18+ v

Caspar:

- He likes sex intense and passionate, and has no problem "doing most of the work," as it were. You may have to guide his pace a bit, as he can get a bit too excited- but he has immense stamina, so you'll certainly be satisfied by the end. In fact, he's fully capable of cumming more than once in a night, with a fairly short refractory period, so if you're up for it, fucking Caspar can become quite a workout in its own right.

- Caspar can be pretty bitey- he loves marking you and being marked, and even he's surprised by how much he just loves burying himself at the crook of your neck, or at your chest, or your lower stomach. He's been attracted to people before, sure, but he's never known he could be so absolutely entranced by someone's body before you.

- As you'd imagine, he's pretty vocal in bed, and likes it when you are too. His pleasured grunts and moans are completely shameless, communicating exactly how incredible you make him feel. He doesn't have much of an innate sense for dirty talk, but he loves it when you talk dirty. Even simple encouragement, like "Oh, Caspar- fuck, just like that! Mmmh- your cock feels so good-!" gets his body burning to his very core. He never realized it before, but his ultimate weakness is when you can tell he's getting close, and you moan out that you want him to cum for you. It's his kryptonite, and his body shudders as a powerful orgasm takes over him.

- His cock is about average length-wise, but it is thick and very nicely veined. He's not excessively sensitive or anything, but if you manage to tie him up or force him to slow his pace in some other way, it is deliciously easy to reduce him to a whiny, needy mess. He'll buck his hips up as you tease the tip of his cock with a slickened finger, desperation in his eyes as he groans out, "Ungh, Y/N, this is torture- please, I- I want you so bad-!"

Linhardt:

- He's deeply focused and fascinated by your body, and will study you for as long as you can withstand his gentle touch. He wants to know your every single turn on, your every tender sweet spot, and wants to hear every possible way you can moan his name. Related- I've seen a lot of people assume Lin is entirely and exclusively a bottom out of laziness, and I firmly disagree. We've seen how intensely he commits himself to the things that have caught his interest, and once you're his, he's going to learn everything he can about your pleasure. He's open minded and willing to try almost anything at least once, provided it's not too strenuous.

- Lin very much enjoys exploring some less expected erotic pleasures; things like circling your fingertips with his tongue, then nipping and sucking at the tender skin, or fucking between your thighs or ass cheeks without fully entering you until you beg him. His easy self-confidence and patience make him something of an unintentional soft dom. It's not that he aims to make you whimper and beg for him before he finally enters you- it's just that he's enjoying your body so much that he doesn't feel the need to rush.

- He loves cockwarming. Lying comfortably on his side with you cradled against him and his length buried in your warm little hole- it's absolute heaven for him. He gets to relax and feel completely at ease and even a little sleepy as you hold him deep inside of you, and it's adorable when you squirm a little, trying to get his cockhead to rub into you a certain way. He gives a light chuckle and nuzzles against the back of your neck, murmuring, "Now, now, don't be impatient- aren't you comfortable?"

- He's not much of a fan of the mess that can come with sex, and resents the cleanup time required, as once he's cum, he wants nothing more than to just hold you close and let your steady breathing lull him to sleep. So, he'll generally do his best to minimize marks, or a mess of cum- though, given his method is frequently to lick you clean, who's complaining.

[hangovercurse]

The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About

Pete invites you to meet his friends from The Dirt and makes you promise not to flirt with any of them, which is a lot easier said than done, especially when Colson Baker acts like that.

Request: “Hey so I love all your writing and I just thought you should know that! But also I’d your requests are on still would you mind writing a youre Pete’s little sister but kells got a crush xx”

Colson x reader

Warnings: Drug use, Cursing

A/N: I know, Dom (Yungblud) wrote the song, but also I am the writer and I say that Y/N wrote it :) Anyways, enjoy. This is only part 1 of what is probably going to be a fun, cute lil series. Also thank you to the anon who sent this! You made my day(s)

Word Count: 2411

| ii | iii | iv | v |

masterlist

New York was lonely without your brother. He had been filming in New Orleans for the past three months, leaving you alone. You had some friends, but Pete was your best friend. You were only eight months younger than him and practically attached at the hip. You supposed going through trauma together would do that to people.

He facetimed you all the time from set, updating you on things in his life, showing you cool stuff from the set, and introducing you to his castmates. You had kept him updated on your music, playing him demos of songs you were writing and getting his opinion on them.

Him being away wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it definitely sucked for you. So, when Pete texted you that he was having a few friends from the movie over the night he got back, you were ecstatic.

Before you left your apartment to walk to his, he texted you.

You’re not allowed to flirt with any of my friends

You rolled your eyes as you locked your door, preparing a response.

I’ll try my best

Your phone buzzed seconds later.

I’m serious. I don’t trust any of them with you.

And I don’t need that kind of awkwardness in my life

Like if you date one of my friends and it goes badly

I don’t wanna deal with that shit

You chuckled at his chain of texts.

Don’t flirt with your friends because they’re dicks, got it

Don’t worry bro, I know the sibling code

 You came to find out that that was a lot easier said than done. When you walked into his place, everyone in the room turned to look at you. You recognized most of them from your facetimes with Pete, but you doubted they remembered who you were. One who did remember you was Colson, Pete’s new best friend. He made eye contact with you from across the room, a sly grin on his lips. You sent him a small smile, Pete’s text running through your head briefly.

You found your brother lounging on the couch, a huge grin on his face. He was definitely tripping on mushrooms. “Y/N!” He yelled. “This is my baby sister, everyone.”

You rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, grabbing a drink from the cooler, and taking an empty seat on the opposite couch. “I’m less than a year younger than you, Pete.”

You heard a snicker from the one of the guys, looking over to see Colson covering up the smile on his face. “But you’re still younger than me so it counts.”

Everyone went back to their own conversations, which you were thankful for. “Y/N, you remember Colson, right?” Pete motioned to the blond guy.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking him up and down. His muscle tank exposed the sleeves of tattoos, which seemed to cover every inch of his skin. “Your hair was different, but yeah I remember you.” You opened the beer on the coffee table, taking a swig.

“You’re the musician, right?” He asked you, leaning back onto the couch.

You nodded, “Aspiring musician but, yeah.”

“Oh, she’s great. You should hear her sometime.” Pete butted in, grinning like an idiot at you.

You rolled your eyes but had a smile on your face. “I work primarily as a songwriter and editor right now, but I’m trying to work on putting out some of my own stuff.”

You felt a little intimidated talking to Machine Gun Kelly about music, seeing as he was one of the best in the industry, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in your work. “Well, if you ever want some help or someone to listen to it, I’d be willing.” He flashed a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling.

“Thanks, that’s really cool of you.” You bit your lip slightly, trying to hide the fact that you were totally breaking Pete’s rule.

Pete sent a glare your way to which you raised your eyebrow. You weren’t really flirting; you were just… making connections. “Anyways,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve been working on this sketch idea, Y/N, and I need your opinion.”

You nodded, letting him talk. “So, I was thinking like, there’s this guy with posters all over his wall. Like life size posters of a bunch of different people. And he falls asleep while doing homework and he dreams about them coming to life. And it plays out like one of those really bad commercials that encourage kids to stay in school and shit. Like the posters are telling him to study for his test, but then there’s this one poster that’s like, very sexy. And she’s just like, talking about hot dogs and everyone else gets really sick of it and one of the other posters tries to like, tear down her poster or something.”

Throughout his description, you got more and more confused. “Pete, that’s not funny that’s just fuckin weird.” His mouth hung open in shock. “Dude, seriously? The big punchline is the playboy poster girl talking about hot dogs until the other poster people get tired of it?”

“Yes.” Pete said, as if it were obvious. “That’s hilarious.” You glanced at Colson with a questioning look on your face. He seemed as unsure of the joke as you were.

“Pete, man, that’s not your best work.” Colson clapped him on the shoulder and you giggled at Pete’s disappointed expression.

“You guys are mean.” He pouted and you two laughed. “Ok, well, how would you make it funny?”

“I don’t know if you can, bro.” Colson’s laugh was contagious. When he laughed his whole body shook, his feet stomping and everything.

“What are the other posters?” You asked, trying to be supportive but knowing this wouldn’t turn out very good.

“Well, I was thinking maybe one is like a video game character. Like that lady from Wreck-It-Ralph. The mean one. And then like a snowboarder who is definitely high, and someone else, I dunno.” He shrugged, taking a hit from the joint in his hand and passing it to you.

“Okay…” You trailed off, looking at Colson for support. You brought the blunt to your lips, inhaling the smoke and bringing it down, letting the smoke leave your mouth slowly. You passed the joint to Colson, who gladly took it, a smirk on his face.

Pete looked between you two at the small interaction, a frown. “So, the posters,” he brought your attention away from the man again, “they’re all really serious about teaching this dude math. But the hotdog girl just keeps talking about hot dogs in like this really high-pitched voice.”

You watched the smoke fall from Colson’s lips, not fully paying attention to your brother.

“Yeah man, I think that sounds funny.” Colson told Pete, his eyes lingering on you for a little longer than they should have. “It could use some work but if anyone can make it funny, it’s you.” Colson punched your brother on the shoulder, but the look he sent you said the exact opposite.

You held in your giggle, taking another sip of your beer.

The rest of the night followed a similar pattern, you and Colson flirting and Pete trying to get in between you two. At one point, after a few more hits of weed and a couple more drinks, Colson brought out a guitar, insisting you play something for him. Where he got the guitar from, you had no idea, but you didn’t ask questions. Instead, you rolled your eyes, insisting that “if I have to play something, so do you.”

Everyone was too caught up in their own conversations to care about the noise, or too drunk. You started strumming, trying to remember the chords to a song you had started writing a few days ago. “There’s no lyrics yet, just a melody I came up with.” You blushed, feeling very self-conscious suddenly.

“Guess I’ll just free style to it then.” He chuckled as you started to strum, your fingers working the strings like they had your whole life.

The blond man closed his eyes, head nodding as you played and thinking of what to rap.

“Watch me, take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night. Catch me, I’m the one on the run away from the headlights.

No sleep, up all week wastin time with people I don’t like. I think, somethin’s fuckin wrong with me.

You smiled as he sang, watching his expressions change as he tried to think up the next line.

Drown myself in alcohol, that shit never helps at all

I might say some stupid things tonight when you pick up this call

I be hearin silence on the other side for way to long, I can taste it on my tongue, I can tell that somethin’s wrong.”

He opened his eyes, looking rather proud of himself. “I had some of those lyrics already, but I just changed ‘em a little. I really liked that.”

You nodded, “That was impressive.” You smiled, looking back down to the guitar when something hit you.

You began to play the same melody but pitched higher to fit your voice.

“Roll me up, and smoke me love

And we could fly into the night

You take drugs, to let go, and figure it all out on your own

Take drugs, on gravestones, to figure it all out on your own.”

You looked up to Colson, watching his expression change, his eyes wide. Pete had a proud look on his face.

“Pete, you are a sucky hype man. You did her no justice.” Colson hit Pete on the arm.

“Whaddya mean, I told you she was great.”

Colson looked over to you, a stupid smile on his face. “Seriously, that was fucking amazing. Like, we gotta write that shit out some day.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” You were trying your best to keep your cool as Colson kept his gaze on you, but you were completely freaking out on the inside.

A little while later, almost everyone was gone except you, Pete, Colson, and Douglas Booth, who joined your conversation not long after your jam session. Pete let out a yawn, directing your attention to the time.

“Jesus, it’s already 4am?” You asked, a frown on your face.

“Why, you got somewhere to be, darling?” Douglas asked you, your face scrunching up from the nickname.

“I have a writing session at 11 am tomorrow. Or, today, I guess.”

Pete reached out to hit you in the head, playfully, which you dodged. “Go to bed, dummy.”

You shrugged, “I’m gonna be dead at it anyways, might as well keep the party going a little longer.”

Douglas rolled his eyes, patting your shoulder. “Be that as it may, I am ending this party and going home. Goodnight, guys. It was nice meeting you again, Y/N. Good to see you guys.” Douglas and the guys did that little hand slap and hug thing before he left.

“I love you both, but I will also be going to sleep. And you should too.” Pete stood up, stretching his arms out before giving Colson a fist bump and leaving to his bedroom.

Once your older brother left, Colson moved to the couch you were on, his arm falling over your shoulders. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And how can I help you Mr. Kelly?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m assuming Pete gave us both very similar talking to’s, given the glares you’ve been receiving all night.”

“You mean the “don’t flirt with my friends” talking to or the other one?” You tilted your head, a sly look on your face.

“That’s the one.” Colson laughed through his nose, an adorable smile on his face. You were both considerably high, but you still knew exactly what you were doing.

You moved closer to Colson’s body, “Well then I guess we’d better not do this.” You said quietly, leaning into him. “Or this,” You grabbed his jaw, inches from his face.

“Or this?” He whispered, connecting your lips. You smiled into the kiss, tasting the weed on his tongue. You adjusted your body so you were facing him, his arm that was once around your shoulder now wrapped around your waist.

His other hand grabbed your leg, pulling you up so you were straddling his lap, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips seemed to fit perfectly around yours, and you did all you could to keep yourself from moaning into the kiss as his hand began to travel up your leg.

Realization hit you like a brick wall, and you pulled away, your breathing heavy. “Sorry,” you muttered after a few seconds. You climbed off his lap, smoothing out your shirt. “We shouldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have done that.” You smiled awkwardly down at him.

He nodded, the same realization hitting him. “Yeah, that’s not the best idea. Sorry I wasn’t really thinking.”

You shook your head, cheeks still very red. “No, no, no don’t apologize. It was fine, it’s all fine.”

He nodded, looking down awkwardly. “I should get going.” He stood up, landing a little too close to you.

“Why don’t you just sleep here? Pete won’t mind and it’s a lot easier than going home.” You bit your lip awkwardly, taking a few steps back.

Colson scratched the back of his neck. This was a very different demeanor than he had before, and you found it very cute. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” You moved towards the guest bedroom, a guilty smile on your face. You moved your hand to your lips, feeling where Colson’s lips had graced you minutes before.

You came back to find Colson laying on the couch, one hand behind his head. “We don’t have to tell Pete about that, right?”

You shook your head, a small smile still playing on your lips. You put the pillow behind his head, watching his eyes as he watched your lips. “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll do something else we can’t tell Pete about.” You said quietly, watching him grin. You pulled the blanket over him, leaning down to be level with his face.

“I kind of like the things we can’t tell Pete about.” Colson chuckled, leaning forward to connect your lips again.

[yumehoxo]

⚠️WARNING⚠️ 18+ content (contains threesum, vaginal sex, oral sex, etc..)

ArminxfemalereaderxEren

~You’ve been best friends with Armin and Eren since you were really young but as time grew on you all changed leading to the conversation of having a threesum with them~

You’ve known Eren and Armin since elementary school you guys were always together, you watched them grow up with you, you were with them for all their ups and downs and you even watched them as puberty slapped them in the face during their last year of high school. You weren’t always the type to go after looks but damn did these boys get so fine as time went on. Everything changed when they both changed their hairstyle, eren letting his grow out, and armin cutting his short. As they went into college tattoos and piercings came along with them, armin got his neck tatted and ear, eyebrow, and nose piercings. Eren got a full sleeve and half a sleeve, with tongue and ear piercings.

Armin and Eren never seemed like the type to smoke or drink they were always agaisnt it, but after a little convincing from Mikasa, Jean, Connie, and Sasha they caved in. It was like their whole personality’s changed, from one party to another, one girl to the next, it honestly shocked you that these were the same boys you ate sand with when you were 5.

“Y/n!... Y/N!!” You herd your named being called but it was barely audible over the sound of the music. You turned around to see Eren and Armin doing a little jog uo to you, their eyes were bloodshot and there were two blonde girls following them. They looked at you like they were in trouble and it took you a minute to find out since your thoughts seemed to have come in slow motion since you just smoked not even 5 minutes ago. They didn’t want to be rude and tell these girls to ‘fuck off’ since they were Mikasa’s friends.

“Act like you need us” Armin whispered in your ear as he hugged you from behind.

“U-uh where have you guys been?!” You asked them raising your voice little bit to make it seem like you were upset.

“Haha..sorry we couldn’t find you” Eren said with a nervous smile on his face as his eyes widened and shot a look to the shirt blonde girl next to him. She was clinging onto his arm like it was the only thing she knew how to do.

You grab both of them by the wrist and drag them along behind you, the two girls letting go of them

“oh sorry bye Historia!” Eren said to the blonde girl unlatching her arm away from him.

“Bye Annie” Armin said as he slid out of her grip.

“Oh my fucking god thank you so much” Eren said rubbing his arm like some type of bug just touched him.

“They don’t know how to give up, that fucking bitch Mikasa and her weird ass friends” Armin said with a look of anger and discomfort on his face.

“Y’all bitch asses owe me.” You said through gritted teeth upset since they pulled you away from a conversation with Sasha.

“Yeah yeah sure we do” Armin said rolling his eyes.

“How about all those times we had to save you from the guys at Marley University hitting on you” Eren said with a smug smirk on his face knowing that they won this conversation.

“Yeah yeah shut the fuck up” you said rolling your eyes back as you maneuvered your way around the crowd making your way upstairs to where Jean and Connie were. As you made your way up the stairs you held onto their wrists as you saw Annie and Historia shoot dirty looks at you from the first floor. Finally making your way up the stairs struggling to keep your grip on the both of the boys you were greeted by Connie and Jean who looked like they were about to pass out as they lazily raised they’re hands and gave you a short ‘wel-c-om to the partyyyyy’ they both said holding up their beers immideatly laughing afterwards so hard that they almost started crying.

“Uhhh let’s just go onto the balcony” Eren said as he looked away from them before they ask for him to come over there.

“Yeah good idea” you replied. You three made your way to the balcony closing the double doors behind you. You three sat shoulder to shoulder letting your legs hand out from the gap of the fencing, as you passed your last blunt around.

“So.. y/n” Armin said turning his head to you.

“Hmm?” You said lazily not even bothering to meet his gaze.

“If you had to fuck one of us who would it be” he asked with a smirk on his face, the sudden question causing Eren to turn his gaze to you. The question gave you butterfly’s in your stomach, you’ve always thought about it wondering if you had to choose one to hook up with who would it be, but as always you came up to the same answer...

“Both of you” you said taking a hit from your blunt and passing it to Eren. He didn’t even bother taking it as both of their heads shot in your direction since you sat in between them.

“Ayo.. did you really just say.. both?” Eren asked you with a smile mixed in with a look of surprise.

“What are you? Deaf?” You answered his question taking another hit since he decided not to take the blunt.

“So if we asked you to fuck right now you would say yes?” Armin asked with a lustful smile on his face, you could only imagine what he was thinking.

“Most likely, but I’m not fucking on a balcony where all the people below can see our sex show on display though.” You said passing the blunt to Eren and he actually took it this time.

“Damn that was the last answer I would expect from you y/n” Eren said while exhaling

“That’s what they all say”

As time went on you all scrolled through your phones until your high wore off so you could go back to your apartment, they decided they were spending the night since your the one that drove them here and they couldn’t be bothered to go back to your apartment, just to have to drive back to theirs. You three made your way home as ‘Deam Man Walking’ played from Erens phone since he had the aux Armin was sitting in the back seat with his legs spread out and his phone in his hand. Occasionally Armin would show Eren a photo or video and earn the reaction of ‘damnnn whats her @‘. You finally made it home parking in the car garage for the apartment building.

“My feet are killing meeeee” you whined.

“Want a piggy back ride?” Armin asked you.

“Is Annie going to get mad?” You teased.

“Oh my god please shut the FUCK UPP” his voice echoed through the empty parking garage.

“Shhh, it’s like 3 am” you said while climbing onto his back. The scent of his cologne and marijuana lingered. You placed your head on his shoulder, he still smelled like a little boy, you had to admit it was adorable. As you guys walked ahead Eren stood behind as he was texting Mikasa that he was with you and he was going to spend the night.

“She still treats me like I’m 4 I swear” you heard him say about 6 feet away from you and Armin. He sped up to you guys suprising you by smacking your ass causing you to let out a little scream.

“Eren! What the fuck?!” You whispered screamed to him. The only response you got back was a smirk. You three made your way up to your apartment door, handing Armin the keys to open it. You were so glad to be home greeted by the scent of your place. Armin carried you all the way to your room as Eren followed and threw you onto the bed. Eren turned off your lights and turned on the led’s instead putting them at red. You were laughing mess as you fought Armin to stop tickinling you only earning Eren to help restrain you.

“PLEASE- I CANT-“ you yelled through laughs. Eventually Armin stopped tickling you to grab your lava pen on your night stand but eren still held on.

“Wanna hit?” Armin asked you teasingly.

“Arminnnn I just bought that cart yesterday!”

“And it slaps as fuck” he responded back.

“Armin- Eren I swear to god if you don’t let go!” You said to him trying to keep a serious look but need up failing from his cute smile.

“Here I’ll let you have a hit” Armin said rolling his eyes with a smile on his face.

“Bitch-” you were cut off as Armin put the tip of the pen in your mouth.

“Finally got you to shut up” Armin said. You started kicking your legs at Eren

“LET ME GO IMMA BEAT HIS ASS” Eren obeyed letting go but the second you say up you only got pushed back down by Armin falling into erens chest as he sat behind you.

“Who’s ass are you going to beat?” Armin asked you while lifting up your chin to look at him.

“Hmph since your being an asshole I’ll take back what I said about fucking you both earlier.” You said with a pouty look on your face. You were basically on Erens ass now his hands wrapped around your stomach with his phone in his hand.

“Oh is that so” Eren whispered in your ear, soon afterwards pressing kisses down your neck to your shoulder soft moans leaving your mouth as his kisses were warm and wet. Armin’s hand made his way to your face holding onto the sides of your jaw making you look up at him, his lips crashed onto yours and your tongues started gliding over each others in sync. Soft moans left your mouth as you felt Eren grow hard underneath you, his hands wandering around your body. Armins grio was still tight on your jaw as you both were engaged in a heat make out session saliva dripping down the sides of our mouth and occasionally the strand that connected your lips for when you both needed air. Eren tugged at the hem of you shirt indicating that you pull it off. Armin let go of your jaw as he and Eren removed their shirts while you removed yours, Eren unhooked your bra and taking it off completely. As your back was pressed up against Erens chest he left bight marks and hickeys all over your neck and shoulders, Armin took one breast in his mouth and massaged the other with his hand, causing you to whimper. Erens hand traveled down to your already slicked heat rubbing circles over your clit making you moan loudly as your legs slightly shook. It didn’t take long for you to cum as Armin sucked harder on your breasts leaving hickeys all over your chest and how eren slipped his fingers into you curling them so they hit your g spot making you see stars. Eren and Armin were both hard by now you could see their cocks aching to be free’d from their pants.

“Scoot to the edge and get on your knees” Eren said. You obeyed so your backside was facing the headboard and you were facing the end of the bed. All of your clothing was now off by now and so where Armins and Erens.

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out” Armin demanded. He placed his tip on your tongues as Eren positioned himself at you entrance, Eren took his time going in, while Armin didn’t, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and started thrusting in and out of youR mouth. Erens pace picked up as time went on. Your moans were cut short from Armins’s member making its way in and out of your mouth, barely being able to take his length spit and precum leaked down the side of your face. The sounds of sweaty skin slapping and moans and grunts filled the room. You could feel both Eren and Armin twitching by now and it didn’t take long for them to release, your moans turning high pitched from all the pleasure as you reached your high aswell. You stuck out your tongue to show Armin that you swallowed it whole earning you smile from him.

“Sheeesshhhh that felt so good” Eren said while fixing his buckle.

“Yeah you think” Armin said glancing over at him. You didn’t say anything since you were quite surprised from what just happened.

“I’m going to go have a shower” you said. Good thing Eren brought you a towel already.

“Tell me when your done so I can have one too” Eren said.

“Same here” Armin said as he lied on the bed shirtless.

“Who said I was going to let you guys have showers and use my soap” you asked them raising one eyebrow as you held the skimpy towel over yourself. They both busted out in laughter..

“Yeah yeah OkAYYY” Eren said in a mocking tone.

“I hate you guys” you said turning around and slamming the bathroom door behind you.

“We love you too y/n” they both said in unison.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Authors note:

Omg please don’t kill me this is my first threesum smut 😭😭✋ALSO I DO NOT HATE ANNIE AND HISTORIA PLS DONT GET ME WRONG I LOVE THEM!

But uhh anyways tell me if I should change anything!

Love y’all *muah* *muah* 🥰🥰😍😍😚😚💓💓💘💘

Btw I do requests!

[palbabor-writes]

Latibule pt. ii

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, kinda heavy petting? we still going slow up in this ride, adult language, eventual SMUT, oh & Kiyoomi being a blunt asshole

Words: 12,880

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: me: try to keep it at 7,000 words, also me: what’s a word count?  

i owe my life to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito​ for their edits and suggestions on this monster. i love you both & appreciate you to the moon and back.

Latibule 

pt. ii: Four Set

a high set to the strong side/outside hitter

[ pt. i: an opening ] || 

[ You: 4:35pm ]

Hey! It’s me– from the coffee shop. Wanted to see if you were busy this evening? Maybe we can meet up when I get off?

[ Sakusa: 5:02pm ]

I know. Sure.

[ You: 6:21pm ]

Great! I’m off at 9:30. Want to meet at the shop?

[ Sakusa: 7:10pm ] 

Read at 7:10pm

“Is he coming?” Kane asks, following you out of the coffee shop and pausing under the shallow awning, twisting his head, watching your back as you turn the key in the door. You tug against the handle, testing the hold, your hands heavy against the cool metal. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes peering into the darkened depths of the cafe lobby. “It says he read the last text, but he didn’t respond. He’s likely busy. I have no idea how long they practice; he’s a professional athlete, and after seeing that game...well, I can only imagine how intense his training schedule is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move like that before it was so fluid, like watching quicksilver.”

“Eh? Quicksilver? What is this, a poetry slam? Who describes people like that? Still, I bet he does, like, 20,000 sit-ups a day. You can tell, even under that baggy jacket, that he’s crazy fit,” Kane ruminates, leaning against one of the stacked sets of metal chairs. “Damn. It’s kinda crazy to think about, you know? You and a hot pro athlete going out on a date.”

You huff out a laugh and give him a playful scowl. “Ugh, shut up, you’re so rude, Kane. And I wouldn’t say it’s a ‘date.’ We just exchanged numbers. That’s all.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. You’re totally right. All those googly eyes must have happened with someone else. Definitely not you and that six-foot monster of a man. I mean, usually the guy just sits at his seat and ignores us, watching those videos on his computer and taking his notes, or he gets his coffee and is on his way, but today he was practically sitting on the hand off plane, and staring at you. 

Don’t gimme that face! You know I’m right. And–awe, look at you! So bashful! Oooh, you like him, don’t you? That’s so cute! Come on (Y/N), that’s so––ow!”

“Didn’t you say you had a paper to write?” you grumble, shoving your knuckles against his shoulder again. “There was so much whining from you tonight. Way worse than usual. So many, ‘hurry up, (Y/N)! I need to get home. What if this makes me bomb my paper! What if I fail the class because of this?’ What happened to all that? Huh? Suddenly you’ve got time to suss’ me out on the sidewalk?”

“Yow! So touchy! And this is totally workplace harassment, ya’ know! Jeez, that’s a mean right hook you’ve got. You didn’t even warn me! Eee, I’m gonna be bruised tomorrow!”

“Oh, shut up. You completely deserved that. Now go away and go finish your paper, you soon to be fail––”

“You said 9:30, right?”

The sound of Sakusa’s low voice startles you and you spring away from Kane, head whipping around and eyes wide. He’s standing a few feet behind the two of you, his shoulders curved into their usual hunch, eyes dark behind his fringe of curls. Under his golden jacket, a crisp white shirt is stretched across his broad chest, the bottom tucked carefully into the front of his jeans, and his MSBY bag is hanging against his back. His onyx hair looks heavy and you can see some lingering moisture, no doubt from a recent shower, glistening against the raven waves. 

“Hey!” you call, unable to bite back the elated grin that’s suddenly curving the edges of your lips. Kane is right about one thing, you think, stepping closer to Sakusa’s stiff form. This is kinda surreal. “We just finished closing up. Uh, this is Kane,” you wince, gesturing to the smirking face of your coworker. 

Shit. Stop it. You sound like an idiot. He knows who Kane is. You’ve seen them talking at the register before, but the rambling introduction keeps tumbling out of you. “He works here. He’s usually at the register, he’s learning, um, the bar and–uh. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you’ve seen him before, uh, probably...definitely...ha, but, er–”

“And that’s my cue,” Kane chuckles, shaking his head at your janky attempts to introduce him properly to a man that he’s known, in passing, for over a year. “Nice seeing you Sakusa-sama,” he bows, tossing you a cheeky wink from his polite curve, “you guys have fun.” And with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the impassive Sakusa alone on the empty street.

A hushed quiet falls over the two of you as you adjust the straps of your purse, eyes lowered. Stop freaking out, you chide yourself, taking a deep inhale of air into your lungs, fingers padding aimlessly over the leather slings of your bag. Just talk with him. It’s always easier when you ask the questions first, since he’s not much of a talker. So ask him about something he can answer.

Volleyball. Yeah, ask him about that. It’s not exactly a groundbreaking conversation starter, but it will work.     

Strategy set, confidence mounting, you open your mouth.

“So, how did your practice–” “How was your day–”

He speaks when you do, and the two of you clatter directly into each other, words smattering into nothingness as you both fumble into an uneasy silence again.

Hopeless, you’re both hopeless. It’s kinda funny, in a horrifically awkward way. 

“Uh,” you grin, eyes finally lifting to his. “You first?”

The gentle thud of his heart echoes against his ears and his breath is hot under the cover of his mask. You’re so close. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch you, could drop his hand from his pocket and let it slip into yours again. That thought makes his palms feel itchy, and he scrapes his nails down the skin, easing the ache.

Not yet.

He watches you as you shake your head, a glowing smile breaking across your lips. You’re not just pretty, he thinks, unconsciously drifting closer, you’re captivating. It’s like you’re some kinda homing beacon. 

He’s a cautious guy, always has been. But something about you makes him want to blindly reach, to be nearer to you. 

“Practice was fine. Where did you want to go?” he murmurs, fingers lifting, tugging his mask down his face. 

He wants to kiss you. 

It’s been on his mind all day, through the training, through the practice games, hovering over him, shrouding him with the foggy remembrance of the pressure of your lips. He’d fucked your first one up and he wants to try again, to do better. But it’s different when you’re expecting it, when he can see your gaze following the downward pull of his hand, your eyes hooded and watchful as he reveals the lower portion of his face to you. When you bite your lip into your mouth, teeth pressing before slowly letting the plump flesh spring free again, he nearly groans aloud.  

He wonders if you’ll let him do it, let him kiss you, and that thought makes him feel lightheaded. You’re so close––No, he gulps, jaw clenching and shoulders straightening, his back arching upward and right foot jerking a step, pulling away from your tempting openness. It’s too much, it’s too soon. 

Just wait, he reminds himself, be patient. Not now, not yet. 

You notice his shift and look up at him curiously, popping your weight onto your other leg, one hand braced against your hip, but you still smile up at him, acknowledging his unspoken cues for distance. “Well, I was going to see if you wanted to get a drink.”

“I don’t like bars,” he blurts.

Your eyes widen and you suck a sharp breath into your lungs, lips falling into a half-formed ‘oh.’  

No. He didn’t mean it like––Damn it. 

Kiyoomi flinches, nose wrinkling and mouth pulling into a thin line. He’s not good at this. 

“Mm, well, this is less of a bar and more like a gastropub. It’s small, laid-back. Plus, it’s a Tuesday night, they’re gonna be slow, and if they’re not, we can leave and try something else...”

“It’s fine,” he rectifies sharply. Again, he sounds too harsh. “I don’t care about any of that. If it’s slow or not. If you want to go, we’ll go. I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I didn’t think it was rude.”

Kiyoomi jerks his chin up, his mouth pressing into a pursed frown, peering skeptically at you, eyes narrowed. You let out a laughed exhale and tilt your head, quickly shrugging your shoulders, attempting to mollify his mistrustful stare. “I mean it!” you insist, waving your hand. “I’ll take someone who’s blunt any day of the week. It’s exhausting trying to read people who are good at hiding behind smiles, or false facades. You always know where you stand when someone is straightforward. Seriously,” you continue, grinning up at his abashed expression, “it doesn’t bother me. Be yourself. Besides, I like it. It kinda makes me jealous…”

“Jealous?” Kiyoomi echoes, watching you step past him and down the darkened street. His heart is beating out that uneven tattoo again, and it feels like he can’t catch his breath. What do you mean, ‘you like his bluntness’? No one’s ever told him that. No one’s ever told him to ‘be himself’ either. And, as if that wasn’t enough for him to chew on, now you’re casually saying that you’re jealous of his unapologetic retorts. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Sure,” you nod, slowing your footfalls, letting him catch up with you as you stride down the sidewalk. “I always lean on the polite side of things, likely because I’ve spent too many years in customer service, haha. So it’s refreshing to hear someone just speak their mind. Besides, you don’t strike me as someone who’s careless with what they say to others; you’re candid, but careful, you just don’t mince your words. Nothing wrong with that. Anyway, I’m babbling, again. Looks like you kinda have that effect on me, huh?”

His lips quirk at your admission and he steps a little closer, the fabric of his jacket wicking across your clothed arm as he matches your pace. “Is it far?” he asks after a time, watching as the lights of the main street twinkle between the lumbering edges of the buildings. 

“Not much farther. But you might wanna put your mask up, we’ll go past the cross street and that area is always a little busy this time of night.”

[ Damn. That’s––The fact that that thought would even cross your mind–– ]

His hand is out of his pocket before he can blink, seeking the soft warmth of your curled fingers, cupping over your knuckles as he heeds your advice with his other, tugging his mask up and pinching it securely over the bridge of his nose. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t pause, doesn’t look down. He likely should have asked. After all, he doesn’t know you that well. But you ease your digits against his, your thumb curling over the joint of his ring finger, and his lips twitch into a smile.

You greet the girl behind the hostess stand with a hug and a few other members of the staff walk up to the table that you select, big grins and booming voices calling out jovial ‘hello’s’ and ‘good to see you’s’.

“You come here a lot?” Kiyoomi inquires, slouching against the cushions of the booth, obsidian eyes peering around the space. The table is off to the side, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the main dining area and bar, and is half covered by a glass wall that provides the two of you with an extra buffer of privacy. It’s an ideal spot, and he’s inwardly grateful that you’d chosen it. 

“I used to work here,” you answer, lifting your purse onto your lap before fishing around for something within the depths of the leather. “I–ah! Here it is. I always lose stuff in here, it’s like a black hole, no matter how many times I organize it, it goes right back to being a mess. Price you pay when you have a big bag, I guess.” You lift a small bottle of hand sanitizer out and dollop some onto your palm. He blinks, following the rapid motions of your hands as you clean them off with the solution. That’s...nice. Nice feels like a strange word for this observation, but it’s true. You spy his gwaping expression and hold the bottle out, nodding your head at his coiled fingers. “Want some?”

“Thanks,” he rumbles, mimicking your motions as he eases the cold sanitizer against his chapped hands. “So you worked here?”

“Yeah! I did this and the coffee shop for a while. I was behind the bar, mostly. It was a good job, but when things picked up with my degree plan, I had to drop it.”

“Ah,” Kiyoomi hums, pulling his mask off and tucking it carefully into the pocket of his jacket. “That’s why you knew it wouldn’t be busy.”

“Yup! Tuesdays and Wednesdays are always slow. This is likely the busiest it will get. They have food here too, if you’re hungry. Got some good sushi and the agedashi tofu is one of the best in the city.”

“I already ate.” [ Shit. ]

“Ohh-kay. Well, I’m probably going to get something. They’ve got non-alcoholic drinks as well. Should be at the bottom of the menu.”

“I said I don’t like bars, not that I don’t drink.” [ Fuck. ]

“Fair enough,” you shrug, cocking your head at his clenched jaw and averted eyes. “You see anything you want?”

“Sorry,” Kiyoomi sighs, lifting the paper menu and scanning the side that lists the specials.

“I told you,” your voice is soft, and he glances up at you, glad to see that you’re still smiling happily at him, “I don’t mind. Tell you what, if you go too far I’ll let you know, sound good?” You stretch your hand toward him, bunching your fingers, except for your pinky, which is waiting, outstretched, and reaching toward him.

“What?” he asks, chin dipping and heavy brows furrowing as he eyes your hand suspiciously. 

“Whaddya’ mean, ‘what?’ It’s a pinky promise. You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve never done this before,” he deadpans, blinking slowly. 

You guffaw and the burst of joyous sound makes him snicker too, his shoulders easing from that all too familiar hunch, his head ducking, the faint stain of a blush seeping over his cheeks. It’s just a laugh, he reasons, annoyed by his flushed skin and twitching fingers. Why is he getting worked up? He takes a second to refocus, but when he does, you’re still waiting for him, your pinky wiggling, blithely enticing him. 

“It’s easy,” you promise. “You just hook your smallest finger with mine and we shake once on it and boom, that’s an unbreakable promise. And, well, if it kills you then I guess you’ll go down in a book of world records or something.”                        

Kiyoomi scoffs at your jab and lifts his arm onto the table, holding his pinky out, waiting for you to make the last move, rolling his eyes at your dramatically slow approach.  

Your touch is gentle, finger ghosting over the middle joint of his pinky, curling slowly, teasingly, before it wraps around the width of his digit. Then you give him a quick squeeze, swiftly bobbing your joined fingers in a mock shake. It’s over in an instant, but you maintain the touch, gradually untwining your crooked digits. “Your fingers are long,” you observe, eyes catching his before traveling back to that lingering connection, distractedly easing your fingertip down the line of his hand and pausing against the base of his wrist. 

It feels like his entire arm is electrified and a fine shiver of goose flesh breaks across his warm skin. His mouth is open, lips parted as he sucks in a shallow drag of air and he can’t stop staring, wholly enraptured by your flirtatious strokes. When your eyes rake upwards to playfully find his, that pleased smile soft against your lips, he thinks he might just lurch forward and grab you. 

“There,” you beam before pulling away. “Now that that’s done, what are you gonna’ order?”

He lets you place your drink order first, saying he needs to keep looking, that it has been a while since he’s had a drink, and he’s never been all that sure of his preferences, anyway. 

It’s an unexpected admission. 

If there’s one thing that you’ve been relatively sure of, it’s that Sakusa is a man who doesn’t hesitate. In the two years that you’ve known him, granted from the other side of the counter of a coffee shop, he’s always known what he wants and is confident in his selections. He can rattle them off by rote, by flavor, by taste, by temperature, so seeing him this off balance, a little frazzled and out of his depth, is a bit of a surprise. 

He’s not fidgety, his hands are resting placidly in his lap, feet evenly placed on the floor, but you can tell there’s an underlying thrum of agitation behind all those half ducked glances he keeps giving you, his obsidian eyes sharp, gleaming like flints each time they linger against you. He’d laughed once, before you’d squeezed his pinky with yours, and then promptly fallen back into that sullen silence, answering your questions with one word quips or hushed murmurs. 

It made you feel guilty. 

He said he hated bars, so maybe you should have taken that admission a little more seriously. But out of all the places the two of you could go, this late at night in downtown Osaka, you’d figured that this was likely the quietest, the one where he’d feel the most comfortable. 

“So you’ve played with them for two years?” you ask, giving your server a quick thanks as they sit your drink down. “That’s impressive. But you said you went to school for four? That’s different. I bet most players skip college and go right for the pros, so why didn’t you do that?”

“Volleyball isn’t everything,” he answers, tone clipped, matter of fact, as he watches you take a sip of your drink, waiting for the clink of the ice and the gentle clatter of the glass as you set it back down on the table before he continues. “I’m not invincible. Someday I won’t be able to play. And it makes sense to have a backup, something that I can do later.”

You pop your chin into your upturned palm, lips resting against your curled fingers. “True. You’re very thorough, you know?” 

Sakusa’s forehead creases, and those two perfectly stacked moles lower over his right eyebrow. “I like to do things properly, that’s all. It just feels right. To take things one step at a time. I do that with everything. I guess most see it as something repetitive, or monotonous, all those basic tasks that you do day in, day out, but I like it. And if you think of them as mindful tasks, rather than mindless, then you can get to that point where those little things become pleasure, instead of drudgery. I know that I’m not guaranteed anything, but, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to go out, to leave volleyball, satisfied. Knowing I did my best.”

It sounds stupid to his ears, pompous, and as soon as he finishes his preamble, he lets out an inaudible sigh, teeth worrying against the soft flesh of the inside of his mouth. Damn it. Why did he say all that? What’s the point? You’d only asked him about college and here he is, rattling off his ideologies and distant thoughts. Why did he–

“That’s...that’s a cool way of looking at it.” 

His jaw is gritted, his face covered by a sheen of impassive blankness. But he looks up when you say that. He wants to see you, even if it’s only to take in your bewildered amusement. But you’re not giving him some piteous smirk, no, you’re looking at him like he’s helped you solve a long awaited puzzle, and your face is filled with the softest, haziest glimmer of ardent happiness that he’s ever seen. Your smile broadens, and he looks away, fingers feeling blindly for the pulse in his lowered wrist. 

His heart’s pounding. 

How do you do that? Then, as he tries to steady his shaking breaths, you lean back, lifting your glass to your parted lips to take a quick sip, a distant look in your eyes.

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it that way, but you’re right. I always have so much trouble explaining that mindset to new hires. Like, how do you tell them that, yeah, while this seems like a stupid thing we have you do, to keep busy during the slow period of the day, it matters in the long run. Take our cleaning routines, if you don’t clean something, and clean it diligently, then the gunk and grime builds up, and it’s harder to get out later. Things harden, become set in their ways, and I guess the same thing can happen to the pros too. It seems like most don’t go to school. They just slip right into the sport–after all, if you’re good enough to make it onto a division ranked team right out of high school, then there you go, that’s your end goal, right? 

But I like that you took the little steps, the ones that people ignore, or try to bypass. It’s another sort of preparedness, really. Others may not see it that way, might think of it as wasted time, but you did what felt right for you and I know it’ll pay off. It’s–oh! Sorry! I’m babbling again! Ha, God, I’m gonna stop, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” Kiyoomi utters, arms lifting from his lap, pressing against the smooth wood of the table, ignoring the racing of his heart. “I liked it. I’m glad that you...I liked it. Keep talking. I like hearing you talk. And, uh, can I try your drink? I know nothing about gin, or whiskey, or whatever that is. I usually just stick to beer and sake.”

You bite your lip, a soft chuckle falling between the two of you, and press two fingers bashfully against your nose, covering your giddy smile and pushing your drink forward, toward his open palms. “It’s kinda nice to know that I’m not the only one who’s flustered. Hmm, but here. If you don’t drink much, then you may not have had this before. Sorry if it’s strong. Also, I go for brown liquor, so it’s got rye for the base.”

“Rye’s a whiskey, right?” he asks, pushing the tiny black straw aside and taking a careful swig from the rim of the glass. It’s got a smooth flavor, almost like the caramel notes of his doppio con panna, but without that cloying sweetness that sometimes sits against the back of his tongue when he’s finished. Instead of the hum of sugar, there is only a shiver of bitterness and then the quick bite of the alcohol is gone, passing over his teeth and down his throat in a single gulp. 

It’s good. 

Better than he expected. And he passes the glass back, his fingers holding against the cool surface, waiting for yours. “I’ll get that,” he tells you, an impish smirk lifting his lips. “It’s perfect.”

After that-and a second round of drinks-the night went a little smoother. He did his best to not lapse into unsociable silences and you did just as he’d asked of you and kept talking. 

You traded the basics, where you were born, talked about your family, your education, degrees, pets, and, slowly, the uncertainty simply faded away. 

You were easy to talk with, impossibly so; always ready with another question, a congenial quip, or an antidote about your own life. Soon he was regaling you about his cousin, Motoya, the latest antics of his teammates, his hopes for the upcoming season, for the 2021 Olympics, for anything that he could think of, anything to keep you in that seat, to keep you chatting with him for just a little longer. 

[ It’s late, but that doesn’t matter. Keep talking, ask her something else. ] 

Is it supposed to feel like this?

He’s never really had a relationship; not when he was in high school or college, and any of his half-formed attractions always fizzled out before they ever really started. He was too busy, too one track minded to notice, [ to care ] to find the time [ to make the time. ] 

It’s certainly not love, [ Tch. Love at first sight, who believes in stuff like that anyway, this isn’t some movie, plus he’s known you for years, so it’s not first sight either ] not yet, but there’s another feeling that’s laced within this humming excitement that keeps bubbling to the surface, that has him hanging onto every word that passes from your lips.

It’s want.

He wants more, greedily so, and he hasn’t experienced that feeling, outside of volleyball, in a long time.

“I’m not too far from here. I’ll just hop on the train and then be back in my district. Easy-peasy.”

Sakusa nods at your jovial reassurances, hoisting his track bag higher against his shoulder, following you toward the lights of the street. It’s late, later than he’s used to, and his eyes feel heavy. The lull of the alcohol isn’t helping either, so he shuffles closer, bumping unevenly against you every few steps. You twist your head toward him, a faint smile on your lips, eyeing his lumbering form skeptically. “Sure I don’t need to walk you to your station, Sakusa? You look dead on your feet. Sorry I kept you out so late.”

“You didn’t,” he sighs, his words rasping past a yawn. “I wanted to stay. I’ll regret it tomorrow. For now, I’m fine.” 

“Pfft, okay, well, I’ll look forward to receiving your annoyed text about me keeping you out past your bedtime in the morning then.”

Huh? Text? You want him to text you in the morning? Can he do that? Be the first person you think of when your notification lights up your dark screen, the first one that you reply to. Shit. What–what does that mean?

Sakusa slows, his hand reaching for you. 

He misses your arm and snags your purse instead, jerking the straps, and by association you, a little harder than he intended. [ Damn it. His coordination’s off. ] You stumble backwards, shoulders bracing against his broad chest, and you blink up at him. You lift your face, looking at him curiously. He’s already peering down, and the glow of the distant street-lamps makes the onyx of his irises morph from jet to a rich blue. For a long breath both of you simply stare, content to watch the other, waiting for some kind of advancement in this stalemate. 

You cave first. “Um, you alright?”

“What are we?” he asks pointedly, large palms running up the sides of your arms, his head tilting, dropping raven curls over his brow. 

“Friends?” you reply, but it feels more like a question than an answer and you let the word hang, unsure what else you can say, what else he wants to hear. You feel a bated breath leave his lungs. It dips you back as his chest falls, slipping you minutely closer even as his hands droop limply from the curve of your shoulders. His eyes shift from yours and his lips fade into a thin line as he steps away, letting you slip from his grasp. The air between you changes, hardening back into that early uncertainty, and by the time you turn to face him fully, his hands are re-tucked into his pockets and his slouch has returned.

“What’s wrong?” 

You know, but you don’t want to assume. You’d warned him after all; you’re not good at being blunt. 

He gives you a frank stare, dark brows creasing, furrowing his expression. “Friends means I can’t kiss you.”

For a moment you can’t feel your heart. You know it’s beating, still diligently pumping blood through your body, but as that declaration leaves his lips it’s like your entire world has narrowed. He wants to...how can he just say that? Just blurt out whatever comes into his head and not care what happens after. Where do you find confidence like that?

You flash your gaze upward and he’s still looking at you, his unmasked face open as he stares, dark eyes watchful, half veiled behind his lashes. 

He waits. He’s good at that, you think, feeling a smile creep across your face as your tongue passes over the swell of your lower lip. He instantly tracks the movement and takes a shallow step forward. You can hear his fingers coiling and uncoiling inside of the slick lining of his pockets, but that simple, near silent admission of his nervousness makes up your mind.

“Well,” you begin, eyes lowering, easing closer, pressing until you can almost feel the heat of him against you. Your hands lift tentatively, passing over the flat, honed planes of his chest until they come to rest against the top of his stomach. His nostrils flare at the tempered stroke but the rest of him remains stock still, wholly rooted to the spot, listening, observing, a glimmer of distant hope cresting against the back of his mind. 

[ Yes. Keep going. Don’t stop. ]

Then, those final, all important words are leaving you, cast into the air. 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Before you can look up at him, his hands are hovering beside your ears, the ghost of his touch urging you upward as he lowers himself over you. 

His lips meet yours with a gentle tap and you can feel his unsteady exhale pass over your mouth as he allows himself to linger against you. It’s more like a press than a proper kiss, but you indulge him, gripping your impatient hands against the thin material of his jacket, giving him time to adjust. He’s featherlight, his lips scratchy, but the lubrication that your swiped tongue has left behind eases the touch and he gasps when you lift to meet him, your lips gliding over his.  

Then he’s wavering; like he can’t decide. 

He shifts away, only to return moments later, lips never fully leaving yours, caressing until you’re doggedly chasing after him, a poorly concealed groan slipping from your throat. He hums appreciatively at your enthusiasm and steps impossibly closer, his fingertips tapping under your jaw and down your neck. 

On one of his shuddering pulls you slip your tongue over his lips, tracing the seam, wordlessly asking for him to deepen the kiss. The sound he makes in return is garbled, caught against his throat and lost in the shuffle of his hands, his breath, his want. 

His arms are like steel cables as they twine around your waist, holding you to him as he finally opens, his teeth clattering against yours in his rush. You smile against his eagerness and pop onto the tips of your toes, hands releasing his jacket, sliding up his face before you let your fingers coil into his obsidian curls, your teeth nipping against his dampened lip. He lets out another hushed gasp, the flat of his palm warm against your shoulder blades as he urges you upward.  

“You’re — mmm, you’re too tall, Sakusa,” you complain, finally easing away from his greedy kisses, and grinning when he follows. 

“Kiyoomi,” he insists, hands cupping, thumbs tracing the edge of your jaw, dropping another kiss against your upturned lips. “Call me that. I want to hear it.”

You laugh and he huffs impatiently against you, brows folding into that deep crease. “Not joking,” he grumbles, lips and breath hot against yours, “I want to hear you say it.” 

When you manage, at long last, to pull away from him again, your eyes bright, lips kiss shined and swollen, he knows this image of you will be etched into his mind for weeks to come. It’s perfect [ you’re perfect ] and all he can think about is that he wants so much more. 

“Kiyoomi,” you call, head canted at his staggered expression, eyes glittering with fond amusement. “You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?”

He scowls at your question and tugs you back, kissing you until your laugh fades away and his name comes a little easier.

[ You: 9:18am ]

You sure you want to go there? I don’t care if we do something else instead, your call.

[ Kiyoomi: 10:54am ]

Got the tickets. See you after your shift.

“Bringing your phone onto the court–ballsy move Omi,” Atsumu leers, dropping his bag beside Kiyoomi’s, a troublesome smirk on his face.

“Shut up,” Kiyoomi snaps, darkening the screen with a click and placing the device beside his trainers. “At least I know how to keep it hidden. And you’re the reason we’re banned from bringing them out here at all. You and your stupid snapchat stories.”

“Omi! Ya’ big jerk! Be quiet, ya’ know yer’ not supposed to mention that app where the coaches can–”

“Miya!” a booming voice calls from across the gym, “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing! If I catch you on that phone, you can expect to do a hundred serves at the end of this practice match! Got it?”

Kiyoomi scoffs, a lackadaisical grin ghosting over his lips as he neatly dodges Atsumu’s elbowed jab. “See? I’m not the problem here.”

“Such a jackass. It’s a miracle (Y/N) is even giving you the time of day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoomi bristles, heavy brows creasing. 

“Means I don’t know what she sees in ya,’ you big dummy. Where you taking her this week?”

“Why do you care?”

“Damn it. Why do I bother? I mean really, am I some kinda masochistic or something? Yer’ terrible to talk with, but here I am, attempting some harmless small-talk. Cut a guy some slack, would ya’?”

“What are you talking about?” Kiyoomi stares, onyx eyes narrowing at Atusmu’s haggard expression. 

“You! I’m just trying to have a conversation, you know, checking in, seeing how yer’ doing. Making sure you haven’t screwed things up yet. Ya’ know, being polite!” Atsumu glowers, golden hair falling over one umber eye as he flashes Kiyoomi a fixed glare.

“What would I screw up?”

Atsumu lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Tell you what, ask me that question again when you do, how’s that sound?”

“Miya–”

“Bringing your phone to practice, coming in late, or right before things kick off, yeah, you got it bad, don’t cha’? You better watch yer’self Omi.”

“The hell you talking about?” Kiyoomi sneers, chin lowering, steeling himself for one of Atsumu’s long-winded tangents. 

“God, yer’ so dense, especially with shit that’s not volleyball. Come on, Omi, use your head. The coaches, the managers, they’re all gonna try and make you pick. That’s what they do. She’s a nice girl, and I’d hate to see her get caught up in all of that bullshit. Stop gaping at me like that! Like I’m not making any sense! I’m trying to look out for ya’! Not that you deserve it, being such a prickly asshole, and all...”

Kiyoomi sighs, lips pursing into a sharp point, his shoulders slumping forward, arms hanging limply against his sides. Fine, he’ll engage. Whatever. If it’ll get Atsumu to explain whatever the hell he’s talking about before the practice match, he reasons, then it’ll be worth it. “We’re going to the museum in Tennoji Park.”

Atsumu stares. “Damn. You agreed to go to a public park? In the daytime? That’s real big, if true.”

“I’ll serve every ball directly at the back of your head, don’t think I won’t.”

“Alright, alright,” the setter laughs, propping his hands against his hips. “Shocked yer’ not just staying close to that one restaurant. You seem like a, ‘this is what I like and I’m sticking to it’ kinda guy. Not one to branch out. You know, boring.”

“How do you know about the restaurant?” 

“She told me about it?”

Kiyoomi curls his lip over his teeth. “When did she do that?”

“The other day, went by for a coffee.”

“Ugh,” he huffs, swinging one arm across his chest, stretching out the muscles of his biceps. “What else did she say?”

Atsumu grins, bracing his forearm against Kiyoomi’s shoulder, waggling his brows mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Fine. I’ll just ask her.”

“Ughhh, zero fun. That’s what you are. Tell me, ya’ got a mode that’s not: ‘Sakusa Kiyoomi, ‘the world’s most boring man’,” Atsumu groans, head dropping as he lets his body hang limply off of Kiyoomi’s stiffened form.

“Shut up. What we do isn’t your business anyway, so enough with the questions. You’re just poking your nose in shit that doesn’t concern you,” Kiyoomi accuses, shrugging Atsumu’s heavy arm off of his, glaring.

Atsumu straightens, a quiet scoff puffing between his smirked lips. “Fine. So touchy today. And you think this crap ain’t gonna bleed into your playing? Yer’ way–”

“Line up!” the assistant coach booms, silencing Atsumu’s bristled retort. Kiyoomi opts to hold his tongue, letting the setter pace away from him, eyes narrowing while sucking in a steadying breath before he follows. 

Damn it. He got so caught up in––Atsumu never told him what he meant.

It’s early afternoon and the broad concrete pathways of the park are mostly empty. The spring flowers are in bloom and the ginkgo trees sway in the crisp breeze that dips in from the sea. It’s a beautiful day, but Kiyoomi can’t shake himself out of his head.

He’d stared dutifully at the portraits in the museum, read the placards that rested below the painted screens and pottery, and listened when you asked him questions, or answered his own. He shouldn’t be like this, he fumes, adjusting the ear straps of his mask as the two of you step out into the bright sunlight once more. 

Who cares what Atsumu was trying to imply. It was vague and unhelpful; likely meant to get under his skin, something that–

“You alright?” Your voice shakes him out of his thoughts and he looks down at you, brows unknotting, eyes softening as they rake over your curious face. 

“Yeah. Miya said something at practice that I’m having trouble forgetting.”

“Oh? What?”

He tells you, and it feels like some of the tension leaves his shoulders. It’s nice.

Usually he’s guarded, quiet. Sure, he’ll let others know what he’s thinking with little finesse, but that doesn’t mean they know the truth of what’s on his mind. This is different. With you it’s easy to disassemble, unexpectedly so. It’s only been a month since the two of you started seeing each other, but in that time he’s opened up more to you than he has to anyone, outside of his family, and he’s still not sure if he likes that.

[ That’s a lie. He likes it; he does. He’s just not used to it. ]

“Make you pick?” you ask, skimming your hand over the red railing of the bridge, head cocked thoughtfully to the side. “He actually said that?”

“Mentioned it. Like I said, Miya talks in circles. I usually just tune him out, but this felt...different.”

“Hmm,” you ponder, easily keeping up with his long strides, your body close to his. “Well, maybe he means they, the coaches that is, don’t want you to be distracted? I could see that. I mean, you are playing at an extremely high level and next year is the Olympics. Damn, it feels strange to say that. I know someone who’s playing in the Olympics…”

“I know that. And I’m not distracted,” his tone is clipped and his chin ducks, his side swept curls fanning over his left eye. 

You look over at his tensed expression and puff out an exhale of air. “Well, maybe he’s just messing with you? You said he likes to do that.”

“Told you, this felt different.” The words are sharp, punctuated by his clenched jaw and the forward roll of his shoulders, and you suck your teeth softly, staring across the shimmering surface of the pond as the two of you cross the last stretch of the bridge. You’re on the back foot here, a little unsure of how to reassure him, but you can tell he wants to shake this off, so you press the issue, hoping it’ll help ease that stiff tension that’s building in his shoulders.  

“Okay, it felt different. How so?”

The words come without hesitation. [ This isn’t normal for him, but it’s also so damn nice to know that he can be this comfortable with someone. ] “Miya usually babbles. Goes on and on about the most inane things. But he also loves to chatter about his reasoning, and this time he didn’t. Instead of answering my question, he gave me that shitty smirk and changed the subject to something he knew would distract me––why else would he say he’d gone by the coffee shop?”

“I mean, I don’t know him as well as you do, but he seems like the kinda guy who likes to provoke–to see if he can get a reaction out of you and...I know it’s not much of a reason, but maybe that’s all that it was?”

Kiyoomi gives you a curt nod and picks up his pace, his hands coiling into clenched fists within the confines of his pockets. You follow him, unsure if you should strike up another line of conversation or let him simmer for a bit. You opt for the latter and turn your attention to the scenery of the parklands, quietly studying the picnicking couples and laughing clusters of children that jostle beside a nearby set of monkey bars. No matter his mood, it’s a lovely day and you’re still glad he’d agreed to come with you to the park. 

But when the trail reaches the main street, you pause. “Hey, you wanna call it a day?” you ask, a soft smile on your lips. If he needs time, you rationalize, then you can give him that. 

Kiyoomi jerks to a stop, his heavy brows furrowing as he stares down at you. “What? No,” he grumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of his mask. 

You raise your hands in a gesture of supplication, palms facing his looming form. “It’s just...you seem like you’re upset...”

“I am upset,” Kiyoomi answers frankly, his breath heavy. 

His honesty never fails to catch you off balance, and you laugh cheerfully at his stoic expression. Kiyoomi promptly fixes you with a perturbed stare, his eyes narrowing. “Kiyoomi, if you’re upset, then we should head back. You don’t have to stick around me if you want space, I totally–– ”

“I don’t want space. I want to be here, with you,” he bites, stepping closer, watching as your grin fades into a perplexed gape. 

For a breath you’re flabbergasted, lips parted, eyes wide, but with a shake of head you step forward, your arm twining with his, and dipped forehead pressing against the sleek material of his jacket. “Alright, then stay with me,” you smile, hands squeezing against his coiled muscles, a pleased warmth spreading up your joined arms before flowing downward, into the pit of your stomach.

The contact, as muted as it is by the shell of his track jacket, makes him shiver and he can feel the thump of his heart speed up. It presses against his ribs and makes his chest feel tight and his head light, and when your fingers slip into the warmth of his pocket, your smooth digits tracing the knuckles of his hand, he lets out a contented sigh before lightly brushing his chin over the top of your bent head.

“Come on,” he murmurs, the rich tone of his deep voice dampened by the stretch of his mask, but you can still hear the creep of his smile within the clipped words, “I’ve got an idea.”

You’ve walked past the training facility plenty of times, so many that it’s a blip on your radar now, its jagged silhouette falling into the category of mundane, but never, not in a million years, did you ever see yourself actually passing through those glass doors.

It’s a massive space. 

The blazing down-lights scatter brightness over the finely polished elastic flooring. You’d worn comfortable shoes to the park, but they still scuff loudly against the unfamiliar material so you stop gawping and look toward Kiyoomi’s arched shoulders. 

“Uh, are you sure we can be in here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice down, but it reverberates around the vast space and you wrinkle your nose at the sharpness of the sound. 

“Yes. I work here,” Kiyoomi answers simply, tugging his mask down and stopping just short of one of the white lines, cocking his dark head at your question.

“Okay,” you snicker, rolling your eyes playfully at his static features, “let me rephrase that, are you sure I can be here?”

“Why would you being here be a problem? Practice is done for the day. It’ll be fine. Worst case, Bokuto or Miya might show,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, a faint smile passing over his lips. “So what do you say, you wanna try to play?”

A full-throated laugh bubbles out of you, and you shake your head frantically. “No way! You’ll either kill me with one of those terrifying spikes, or be bored out of your mind trying to teach me the ropes. Besides, I haven’t played volleyball since middle school, and even then, I’m, uh, not sure a quick rotation in a 40 minute P.E. class counts as playing. It was more like all of us kids screwing around and testing out how many times we could annoy our teacher.”

He snorts at your explanation and strides over to a dark red cart, digging one of his long arms into the depths before straightening and returning with a yellow and blue Mikasa ball that’s perfectly balanced within his broad palm. “Humor me,” he smirks, one brow quirking upward. 

“Tch, I’m not wearing the right clothes...or shoes,” you bemoan jovially, but you’re already letting your purse slip from your shoulders.

“So whiny,” Kiyoomi tuts, stepping away from the cart and tossing the ball rapidly between his spread hands. “That doesn’t matter. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” you tease, a beguiling smile lifting your lips. He looks so good in here, you think, admiring the flex and bounce of his hands, the lean coil of his powerful neck that peeks from underneath his track jacket, so different from the stoic man who walked beside you in the park. 

As soon as he touched the ball, his entire demeanor changed. Within the space of a few seconds he’d gone from hunched and brooding to dauntless and firm, all of his early agitation and uncertainty forgotten as he slipped into the comfort of his element. 

“All right, coach,” you sigh with mock dejection, “where do you want me?”

“On the other side of the net. See that line? The first one past the netting? That’s the attack line. Stand there.” 

He’s clear-cut in his instruction, telling you where to plant your feet and how to stand with the correct form. You listen intently, nodding or asking one or two clarifying questions, and he’s patient with your queries, answering you swiftly and thoroughly, obsidian eyes keen as they follow your movements across the net. 

“Alright, that looks good. We’re going to do a simple drill, the catch and throw. Don’t worry about setting the ball, or receiving it with your arms, see how it feels to position yourself under it, just make sure it never gets behind you, and catch it with both hands and toss it back to me. Try and keep it in an easy arc.”

You blink at him, pulling your lips into an exaggerated frown. “Just catch it? That sounds too easy…”

“It’s meant to be. It teaches you how to see the ball. If you’re wanting something harder, I can always up the speed as you get better at it. Now, you ready?”

You nod and the ball lifts from his fingers in a flash, gliding over the net cleanly, and you shift back, arms outstretched, feet planted firmly against the slick flooring. You catch it neatly and mimic his overhand toss, sending it back to Kiyoomi’s half crouched form. But the arc isn’t controlled and the ball paps against the tape of the net, screwing up the trajectory and sending it shuddering toward the gym floor. 

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at your clumsy return, but he’s already moving, his form a blur. He slides under it easily, back curved under his well-muscled legs, all ten fingers spread, as he neatly catches the ball, sending it prettily back to your side. 

You’re so mesmerized by the fluidity of his supple form that you completely ignore the returning ball and it slaps against the floor with a crack. Always the professional, he’s intently watching the ball’s trajectory and doesn’t notice your open stare at first, but once his dark eyes flash back to yours a faint blush seeps across the well-cut apples of his cheeks and he ducks his head, obscuring his flush with a cascade of onyx curls. “That’s one point for me,” he sighs, his voice low, tone gruffly catching over the words as he studiously avoids your awed expression. 

“Points?” you repeat dumbly, snapping your mouth closed before popping your hands on your hips, forcing yourself out of your stupor. “Hey! You didn’t say anything about points.”

“It’s a game,” he counters with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “of course there’s gonna be points.”

“Pfft,” you chortle as you walk toward the discarded volleyball. “What happened to this is just a drill?”

Thirty minutes later your hands are aching and you move sluggishly as your feet squeak over the polished flooring of the court. Kiyoomi, on the other hand, looks perfectly at ease, his eyes hungrily stalking the track of the ball as it flies to his side of the court. When you miss the next lightning quick toss that he sends your way, you drop your head and lift your hands, palms flattened and facing toward him, signaling your defeat as a heaving exhale leaves your straining lungs. “I think that’s it for me. I’m about to collapse onto the floor, like seriously. This is not a joke.” 

Kiyoomi huffs out a bemused laugh and ducks under the netting, pausing beside your half crouched figure. He peers down at you through the lazy waves of his hair. You look staggered from the constant shuffling and overhand tosses, but you smile up at him and he can’t help but return it.

“I may be down for the count, but it looks like you wanna keep going,” you say coyly, eyes shining under the brilliance of the lights. [ You’re so pretty ] He [ wants to kiss you again ] sucks in a shallow breath and mutely nods at your assessment. [ Don’t go. ] 

“Well,” you begin, lips falling into a thoughtful pout, arms twisting behind your back, “In that case, I’ve got some things that I need to finish up, anyway.”

[ No. Don’t go. Not yet. ]

“I left my laptop at the cafe, so I’ll head that way. Maybe I can see you–”

“Use mine.” The words leave him with a sigh, his voice hushed, but you hear him and your head whips up.

“What–I’m sorry, what?”

“Use my laptop. It’s here, in my locker.” [ Should he have said, please? He’ll say it, if that will get you to stay a little longer. ]  

“You don’t...that’s not necessary–– ”

“I know. I want to,” he closes the distance between the two of you, his hand ghosting up the line of your arm. “Stay. If you want to.” 

You contemplate his request, tapping a finger against your bottom lip, the flicker of a grin catching at the corners of your mouth. Finally, you nod.

[ Good. ] 

He can feel his pulse against his eardrums and he feels jittery now but through that excited haze he tells you he’s going to change into his gym clothes and grab it, that there’s an outlet under the scorer’s table that sits at the edge of the court, and that he’ll be right back. He’s not sure why he feels the need to elaborate, that’s not like him, but he’s doing a lot of things that don’t feel like him these days.

He likes you; he thinks as he steps toward the double doors that will take him into the locker room. 

He likes you so much.  

When he returns, he’s wearing a dark pair of shorts and a bright yellow shirt emblazoned with the words Itachiyama VBC across his left pectoral. The laptop is propped under his muscled arm and he walks slowly toward you, dark eyes watching you thoughtfully. But you’re not meeting his gaze. No, your regard falls to the curve of his calves and the sharp jut of his ankles before you track back up to his thighs and linger over the ripple and pull of the corded brawn that peeks from under the line of his shorts, and it takes him clearing his throat to lure your eyes back up to his burning face.  

You’ve seen him in his MSBY uniform, and you’ve seen him in various outfits over the last month, but the way you’re watching him right now makes his skin prickle and the air around the two of you feels charged, like the smallest push could create some kind of reaction. 

He pauses beside the table and waits for you to sit before he leans down, one leg shaking restlessly under him as he clacks his passcode across the black keys. He’s lifting his right hand to click ‘enter,’ when you cup your hand under his jaw. 

Kiyoomi quavers under your touch, a low shiver slipping up his spine as he twists to face you, his heavy brows arched and onyx eyes wide. He’s perfectly level with you and so close he can faintly smell your lavender shampoo. It’s a nice scent, lulling and woodsy and he wants to shift closer, but before he can act on his instinct you’re already leaning upwards and using your fingertips to dip his head forward, your lips pressing a chaste kiss against his topmost mole, breath warm against his heated skin. 

“Thank you,” you purr, delicately resting the tip of your nose against his curled hair. 

It feels like his body is sputtering to a halt, his arms heavy, his head desperately following your touch as you shift back, a half groaned sigh tight against his split lips. His fingers are twitching against the cool surface of the table and he knows he must look like an absolute idiot when he lifts his eyes back to yours, but he doesn’t care. 

He’s glad you’re going to stay.

“Question for you,” you ask from your perch on the scorer’s table, your fingers flying over the computer keys as you clatter out another email. “How the hell do your hands do that?” 

Kiyoomi smirks at your curious amusement and flips his wrists deftly upwards, easing onto his haunches, flicking his fingers out and rolling his newly stretched wrists as he finishes his final cool down routine. “It’s called joint hyper-mobility. Most lose it when they get older, I’ve been lucky.”

The two of you have been at the training facility for hours. You’d dutifully finished up some last-minute work enquiries and partially outlined the basics for your upcoming grant proposal, while Kiyoomi worked on his spin rotation and spikes.  

You’d watched him intermittently, teeth plucking at the swell of your lower lip each time he lept into the air for a jump serve, or dropped low to the ground as he dug another ball up from his hit to the nearby wall, so you’d noticed when he’d finished his first water bottle. He’d set the plastic down, the tap ringing hollowly over the quiet gym, and rose from your folding chair, making your way over, already asking him where a water station was. 

When you’d returned, passing the newly filled bottle back to him, your fingers stroked up his arm and swirled faint patterns against his clammy skin as he steadied the plastic in his grasp. And later, when you’d refilled his second water bottle, you’d pushed some of his raven waves back, lifting onto the balls of your feet to tuck the dampened strands behind the shell of his ear.

He was a sweaty mess, but that didn’t bother you.

Usually he didn’t like for others to touch him when he was like this. Something about the sheen and prickle of the salty perspiration bothered him, [ disgusted him ] so he actively shunned his teammates when they sought high fives during a game, but this was different.

The instant your fingers alighted against his skin he’d felt a jolting lurch of electricity, but instead of pulling from it, he’d leaned into it, draping his broad palm over your tracing digits, or resting his warm cheek against your open hand, eyes half lidded as they watched for your reaction.

He liked this. 

“Hey, Kiyoomi? Uh, hello, Earth to Kiyoomi! You listening?”

The sound of your voice jerks him from his musings, and he glances at you. “Hmm?”

“I said, how do you feel about a low-key dinner?”

“I’d prefer it,” Kiyoomi replies, easing from his haunches to his feet, rolling his long arms over his head as he stands.

“Yeah, but I mean...low-key, low-key.”

He fixes you with a flat stare, his face falling into that well practiced blankness, obsidian eyes dimmed. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I’ve got some things that I’ve been meaning to cook and, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is...did you want to maybe have dinner at my apartment? I know you’re picky about how your food is prepared, so if you wanna go out instead, that’s fine too. I won’t be offended. I just wanted to– ”

“I’d like that, but...can you cook?” he rumbles, a teasing smile coiling against his lips. 

“Oh, I see. No, you got me. Totally can’t. I just wanted to know if you’d suffer through burnt rice, and then lie and tell me you’d liked it, or some shit,” you threaten, sticking your tongue out and scrunching your face at his blatant leer. 

“Don’t worry, I’d definitely tell you.”

“Pfft. You’re the worst, you know that? Now go shower. If we wait too long, we’ll hit rush hour at the station and I bet that’s pretty high on your list of things to avoid at all costs.”

Your apartment is small.

Well, compared to his. But his place is an empty shell, brittle, almost sterile in its vacant emptiness. He’s not there often, so why fill it with more than the bare essentials? It’s got what he needs, and he’s never been bothered by the Spartan coldness of the tiles and dark wood, that is, until he steps into your space. 

There’s so much color. 

The living room is blanketed in a mix of cheery yellows, warm reds, and deep purples. It’s not displeasing, but it makes him pause within the confines of the genkan, onyx eyes wide under his raised brows. It’s a difference. Now there’s an unexpected worry that’s pricking at the front of his mind.

“You coming?” you ask, poking your head around the cut of the wall that divides your living room from your kitchen, peering curiously at his tense expression.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, easing his trainers off of his feet. This place reminds him that there’s still so much about you he doesn’t know. 

So, to alleviate himself from his lingering trepidations, he peers curiously around the apartment.   

Most of your furniture is Western. And while there is a traditional chabudai beside your kitchen and a familiar kotatsu that rests beneath the glass doors of your balcony, the rest of the room is decorated with cushioned couches, stiff-backed chairs, neatly organized shelving units, a large tv and stand, and several side tables that hold a mixture of lamps, artfully stacked books, picture frames and candles. 

He’s still gazing over the plethora of things when you appear beside his elbow. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself at home. The remote for the tv should be on the kotatsu. You alright with soba stir fry and okonomiyaki for dinner? It’s easy, well, quick...”

“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi breathes, voice muted as his eyes rake over one of your bookshelves. “You could have taken one at the gym, you know...a shower.”

“Oh-ho, sure! Like a shower at your gym doesn’t come with the awful possibility that one of your teammates or, god forbid, coaches could have walked in. Yeah, no thanks,” you chuckle, shaking your head as you pad over to the small hallway that separates your kitchen and living space from the rest of your apartment. “I won’t be long. Please do not rob me, kay’?”

Kiyoomi blatantly scoffs at your remark but doesn’t look up until he hears the click of your bathroom door. Instantly, his feet carry him toward your collection of books and miscellany, one long finger tracing up paper spines. He will not miss this opportunity. 

He’s curious, ravenously so.

There are small bowls that are filled with a mismatch of silver and gold jewelry, peeling bound novels with English titles printed down their spines, and asymmetric jars that carry the weight of seashells that gleam translucent and bright against the dimming sunlight.

Beaming smiles radiate from your collection of pictures. Some are snapshots of you and others who look enough like you he assumes they must be your family, while other images are older, with people dressed in vintage clothing, the photos sheened in dull greys and time blown sepia rather than vibrant, modern colors. 

Then there are the books. The room is littered with them. Most are organized within the confines of the shelves, but a few are stacked on the kotatsu and he flips open one cover, eyes scanning the orderly lines of Japanese that dart down the pages.   

There’s just so much here, so many little pieces of you that are scattered about, and he wants to see...no, he wants to ask you about all of it. 

Dazed, he leaves the open space of the living room and steps toward the kitchen. It’s less cluttered in here, and he can smell the faint tang of bleach and lemon as he moves onto the dark tiles. Clearly, the fastidious habits you’ve displayed at the cafe are ingrained into your daily routines. 

Cleanliness and routine. You’ll always have that in common.

His roving observations falter at your fridge. It’s covered in a scattered array of playful magnets, pinning down lists and newer Polaroids and he steps closer, index finger extended once more as he glides the digit down the faded ink and shine of the photos. Resting atop one of the larger check-lists is a crisp slip of cardstock. It’s clearly been given pride of place and Kiyoomi curves himself downward, somber brows wrinkling as he reads the print.

The departments of Anthropology, History, Languages, and Education invite you to attend:

The Deans Meeting

10th Annual Conference & New Faculty Welcome Event

Thursday, April 23rd

6:30 - 9:30 p.m.

Graduate School of Human Sciences, Osaka University

(Number Attending: ____ *limit of one guest per invitee)

Kiyoomi straightens, raking a hand up through his loose curls. The 23rd? That’s a month...no...almost five weeks away. He slips his cellphone out of his jacket, thumb tapping over to his calendar. It’s a Friday...but good, there’s no game that day–however there is a team meeting. If he asks now, he should be able to be excused from the meeting and maybe the mid-day practice as well. You haven’t mentioned this event to him, he muses, fingers rapidly tapping the date into his reminders, but it looks important and he wants to go with you, if you’ll let him. 

He hears the telltale shudder of your shower’s cut-off valve and he turns, ready to walk back to the neutral safety of your living room when he spies a haphazardly cracked doorway that clearly leads into your bedroom. His feet are carrying him around the low base of the chabudai, and before he can justify his impulsive [ curious, hungry ] reasoning he’s already leaning in, unabashedly looking over the space. 

The room is dark; the dusky light of the sunset is muffled by the curtains that drape over the large window, but Kiyoomi marvels, obsidian eyes whisking over the small space, greedily taking in the neat folds of your downy comforter, the soft pillows that nestle under the headboard, and the fan that sits atop the tatami mats. It smells like you in here; the chilled air holds the gentle scent of rich florals and spice and he wants to step closer, but then his hand is catching against the doorframe and he jerks back, hurriedly gulping down a sharp breath as his black hair slumps over his hooded eyes. 

It’s...it’s not...he shouldn’t have looked. It’s not polite, but damn, he almost doesn’t care.

What would it be like to step past that threshold? To walk into something that’s so saturated with you? He feels like his skin is too close, too heavy, and he wants nothing more than to stretch out on the cool sheets of your bed to ease that simmer that’s thrumming under his heated flesh.

Wait. A bed. You have a bed. 

Shit. 

Kiyoomi’s always been content with his futon, satisfied with the simplicity of it. He’s always considered beds to be a waste of space, unnecessary, after all, he’s just sleeping on it. Why did it matter? 

Unanswered questions whir around his half cocked head. What if you don’t like futons? If you think they’re uncomfortable, or inconvenient? Besides, now he’s picturing laying with you on a bed, [ this bed ] not a futon. Kiyoomi wants to see you stretched out beside him, comfortable and happy, with that tantalizing smile and those playful eyes watching him, waiting for him. What side do you prefer? Right? Left? And then? What happens when you’ve picked your spot and settled in? 

Would you want him to shift closer? Could he run his palms past your arms and down the sloping curves of your hips? Would you do the same for him? What would your nails feel like as they scratched faint lines along his sides, over the muscles of his abdomen, or down his back? You’d be so close. So close that every sigh that passed between your lips would be shared with him and he’d inhale every sound, his lips rough against yours. And if you arched into him, your hands urging him to straddle himself over your intoxicating softness, your thighs spreading as he lowers his hips––  

The bathroom door clicks and the fevered daydream fades, his feet cumbersome and tangled as he lumbers back to the living room, his heart pounding in his ears. He doesn’t like this breathlessness, doesn’t like that his hands are trembling as he stuffs them into his pockets. Any second now you’ll be in front of him and he wants to hold you, to let the pull of your hands and the sleek drag of your lips satiate the feel [ throb ] of his unexpected [ visceral ] arousal.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take that long, I just–– ” 

The distance between the two of you is closed within a heartbeat, and his outstretched fingertips glide down the smooth line of your neck. You suck in a sharp breath, your body rigid under his hold, [ damn it, too fast ] and he drops his hands, easing you into the suddenness of his movement with lazy kisses against your warm cheek and neck, grinning when you lean into him at last. 

[ Yes. Perfect. ]  

You want him to kiss you properly, and you do your best to chase his lips, your arms folding around his bowed neck as you tap a few impatient kisses against his lowered forehead. But he ignores your temptations, not ready to move away from the intoxicating fragrance of your freshly cleaned skin. That soothing smell of peppermint and fresh lavender is near ambrosial, and he greedily digs his nose against you as his muscular arms drape over your sides, and his broad hands pause against the small of your back.

His sharp exhales against your shower dampened neck make you shiver but he maneuvers you closer, rubbing his lower lip against the dip of your shoulder before lifting to catch his teeth on your pulse. He knows just what you like now; he thinks smugly, tracing the flat of his tongue over a line of gooseflesh that bursts over your slicked skin. 

In the last month he’s gained a steady mastery of your preferences when it came to his kisses. You preferred to start things slowly, to have him cup your face and stoke you up steadily, but once he eases down the intricate line of your neck, well, all that softness and coy sweetness would bleed into something else entirely.

You liked it rougher then; liked for these caresses to be charged with lightning fast pushes and pulls, your fingers alternating between the sides of his jaw or the coiled thickness of his hair as you swayed him closer, and that shift never failed to set his heart racing and often sent his tightly reigned control spiraling. But that’s not what he wants, not right now, so he’s careful to keep you at bay, distracting your breathless twists with a fresh set of nips and unhurried pecks against your throat.

He wants to lose himself in you; to blank out all the other worries. The differences don’t matter, not when he can hold you like this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi,” you gasp and only then does he stop his incessant assault, arms tensing as they clutch you to the broad slope of his chest, his dark waves falling heavily against your kiss glistened shoulder.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his voice reverberating against your wet skin.

“What...what’s gotten into you?” you falter, distracted by the hum of his low tone and the soothing pass of his hands as they curve along your spine.

“Dunno, just felt like kissing you,” he lies impassively, lifting his head from you, obsidian eyes shielded by his mussed curls, the tops of his cheeks aglow.

You exhale a tight laugh at his serious, but utterly flushed expression. “Okay–so why did you stop?”

“Liked it that much, huh? I’m hungry,” he clarifies, a smirk curling his erubescent lips and you laugh, melting that jaunty grin into his usual straightlaced frown. “Tch,” he tries again, sliding his dark eyes away from your open bemusement, a pink blush staining the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I...hmph, come on, don’t act like you’re not hungry, too...”

You were an excellent cook. Not that he’d fully meant his droll quip at the gym; after all, why offer to do something if you’re not good at it? But he’s glad he agreed to a home cooked meal. 

Besides, there is something soothing about the whole thing.It was nice, watching you deftly maneuver around your tiny kitchen, turning on burners, setting timers, and arranging the ingredients in simple bowls and plates; it reminded him of the coffee shop. And he’s always liked watching you work. Your movements were always smooth [ elegant ]. You kept your hands close and your elbows in, so confident in the motions of your ingrained routines and the tidiness of your space, that you could easily carry on a conversation with him, your eyes careful to meet his over the top of the espresso machine.

But this is better than watching you in the coffee shop. There’s no divider now. There’s just you and him. It’s comforting and he wants to experience it again and again.  

You let him set the plates out, chop the vegetables, prep the soba, and asked him to pick out some beer from your fridge, saying you trusted his choice and chuckling good-naturedly when he padded back to your side, four cans sticking icily to his palms as he asked a few [ five or six ] clarifying questions about the brews.He enjoys your cheerful teasing; he thinks as the two of you sit at the low chabudai; it makes him feel like he fits in, like he can be part of this side of you. You tuck your legs to one side as you sit, your shoulder gently bumping against his as you ease into a comfortable position on the tatami mats and Kiyoomi leans closer, indulging himself in the press long after you’ve picked up your chopsticks–a shared meal of of cabbage and onion okonomiyaki and salmon stir fry resting between the two of you. 

It’s a simple thing, all of this touch, but Kiyoomi can’t get enough of it. Every time your arm brushes against his, or you ask him to pass you something from his side of the table, he wants to prolong the contact, to keep his fingers beside yours, or feel the warmth of your thigh and the jut of your hip as he shifts nearer.

He didn’t think he enjoyed being touched. 

He always did his utmost to avoid it, shunning the clapped backs and constant high fives that always seemed to be prepackaged and expected in the contact heavy sport of volleyball. Not because he didn’t like his teammates [ sure, sometimes– eh, most of the time ] they were too much, but he genuinely liked playing with them. But he didn’t enjoy the balmy heat of skin on skin contact, or the worry of shared germs. Touching meant weakness. It allowed things to spread from person to person; it created variables, and more variables always meant things could slip out of his control. No, Kiyoomi valued the predictable, the known, the cleanliness and routine, and touch threw most of that out of the equation. 

He doesn’t like touch. 

Yet he’s craving yours.  

It’s another thing that isn’t like him, he contemplates, passing his empty bowl to you, already missing that pleasing closeness you’d shared with him as you walk back into your kitchen and that stark absence makes him stand. It’s an urge, a compulsion, and it’s not something he wants to question so he listens to his instincts, feet planted firmly beneath him as he follows you, his hands lifted, reaching for you. When he tugs you against his chest, his dark head dropping beside yours, jet curls fanning beside your cheek and along your neck, he feels the ache within him settle and he lets himself wallow in the familiarity of crisp peppermint that sits against your skin. [ There. He can worry about the rest later, right now this is all he wants. ] 

“I should go,” he whispers, the tip of his nose cool against you. He locks his forearms around your waist and sighs when you rest your temple against his. 

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go. 

“Yeah,” you echo, cupping your fingers over his crossed arms and stroking them over his goose-fleshed skin. “I work in the morning. So I need to be up early.”

His steady breaths match yours and he pulls you closer, humming contentedly as the curve of your back falls into the hollow of his chest. “I’ll go,” Kiyoomi stalls, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the slope of your neck. He really should. There are only a few more trains tonight, but he can’t let go.

So he lingers, his heavy body leaning against yours, full lips dragging along your pulse as his arms loop tightly around you. You twist your head and he lets you return his caresses, groaning against the sweet pressure of your lips. You’re gentle with him, your kisses filled with restrained desire, and the gossamer touch makes him reach for more. When you pull away, your eyes shining in the gleam of your kitchen lights, he brings you back, his broad palms turning you to him as his chapped fingers tilt your chin, his arms cupping you so close he can feel the thud of your heart against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

notes: @kugutsuu​ made me these lovely lines. aren’t they pretty! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧     

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

Shy | Pseudoincest & Somnophilia

tw// pseudo incest, dubcon, creampies, pregnancy risk, possessive behavior, praise kink/degradation kink, size kink, jealous baby sis reader

Slumber Party

She cute, kawaii, hentai boobies, that excites me I think she really likes me, asked politely, can I-

I'm shy, I'm so shy...

Bakugou

"fucking knew it, little slut" he could hold his weed- but his heated whispered words were a little stretched out thanks to the four blunts clouding his brain

and he would blame those four blunts and you fucked flashing him your panties for what he did to you

yeah he fucked around, and yeah he knew you would be mad when you found out, but he didn't expect the immediate look of jealousy on your face

and he didn't expect it to make him so hard

because he's not fucking blind, ever since your parents married he noticed how fuckable your ass and tits were, and he learned how nice of a person you were on top of that since he had to behave now that you were his step sister

so knowing his sweet little step sister wants him just as much as he wants you makes him bold

sucking on your clit through your panties while you moan sleepily, enjoying how drenched you get for him

when you mumble his name in your sleep he has to fuck you, you're practically asking for him

and since you were asleep he didn't have to think about how to navigate the fact that he wanted to spend the rest of his days between your legs giving you babies and a white picket fence, the works

all he had to worry about was making sure no matter how hard he fucked you you thought you were just dreaming

but thankfully you only moaned and tossed your head from side to side as he pushed you into a mating press, your pliant body manhandled easily in his big hands

and fuck if your pussy didn't suck him in and take every inch, even if you did wince faintly every time he abused your cervix

there was no question where he was going to cum, you did this to him- so you would take his load

if you happened to get pregnant, which was a possibility because he didn't know what contraceptives you used if any, then maybe he could help you out and let you stay with him

his hips slapped into your ass faster, the dark pleasure of imagining you crying to him that you were pregnant and didn't know how making his cock twitch in your warm wet pussy- eager to make it happen

because even if you did find out... he didn't care

his load was so heavy and copious it leaked down your thighs as he rode you through his orgasm, but when he caught his breath (he swore he'd never cum that hard in his life) he dutifully used the head of his softening cock to push all the cum back into your pussy, deep and safe tucked right up against the entrance to your womb

right where it belonged

Tamaki

he taught you how to hit your first blunt, and now look at you, snoring against his chest after only four blunts

okay ya mans is a stoner stoner, cause it takes a fuck ton of weed to get him to relax

so even though he's a lot more relaxed than when y'all started he's still wound up from the accidental peep show he got

finding you wet makes him think back to your conversation, when you asked about him having a girlfriend. it was true, being a stoner did make him more inclined to not argue with the women who had a thing for nerdy shy stoners and smoked him out before swallowing him down or riding him into the sunset

you looked so cute, scrunching your nose up in jealousy and changing the subject like that would distract him from the way you pouted the rest of the evening

"are you wet for me little sis?" he whispered as his elegant fingers ghosted over your clit, and you were not helping his self control when you snuggled into the pillow and mumbling "Tama," before you settled again

the first taste of your pussy on your tongue made him snap, and honestly it wouldn't have mattered if you woke up at that exact moment

he was going to have his fill of you

he ate you out for hours, literally, you woke up just as your third orgasm made your sensitive clit throb and your whole body tremble

"T-tamaki?"

the only reply you got was a groan and your step brother's pupils were blown wide until his indigo eyes were nearly black

obviously he was too busy making you squeal and thrash by sucking on your overstimulated clit, and when you tried to push his head away all he did was trap both your wrists in one of his larger hands and continue

it's only when he's pushing his cock into your messy cunt that he kisses your throat and murmurs into your skin, "you shouldn't have shown me your pussy if this wasn't you wanted lil sis,"

"I-I do want it," you whined as he stretched you out deeply, deeper than any of your previous boyfriends

you fall asleep for the second time with your step brothers cock and cum still inside you

Shinsou

it was his weed in the fourth blunt that knocked you out, cause.. insomnia

so he was confident in his movements as he dragged your panties down your legs and tossed your thighs over his shoulders to devour your obviously needy pussy

you moaned his name and he groaned in response, fucking you open on his tongue and pushing your shirt up so he could grope your tits

which

wow, perfectly fat and overflowing the grip of his large hand because they were that big

you whine when he squeezed your tit, and when he pinched your nipple you whimpered

so he's able to create quite a symphony when he also gets one thumb on your clit while his cock is in you

you're moaning like a whore when he gets you in a mating press but your twitching limbs don't offer any resistance as he pulls and pushes you in place

there's drool falling onto your tits since your mouth opened when he hit your cervix, and when you sluggishly suck on the fingers he shoves in your mouth he blows his load as deep inside you as he can reach

Dabi

he knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled out his favorite strain of weed to mix with yours for your session, and he pretends to be sheepish when he tells you about his many 'acquaintances'

the way you pout jealously just makes his cock throb in anticipation, and with every blunt your eyes droop a little more and you start complaining about all your fake ass friends and the fuck boy boyfriends you've had while leaning deeper and deeper into him

until you're fast asleep on his chest, and not stirring in the slightest when he pulls your sweats off and lets out a dark chuckle at the wet spot prominently over your needy pussy on your panties

those are quick to be gotten rid of as well, and when he flips you over so he can fuck you by holding up your hips while you just make small sleepy noises, nuzzling the sheets

he doesn't lower his voice when he groans at your tightness as he pushes his pierced dick into your soaking wet pussy

"you're fucking tight baby sis, when's the last time that ex of yours dicked you down?" he knows you can't answer but it makes him harder to say it while he's fucking into you, not stopping until you let out a little whimper and his balls slap against your clit

that rhythmic slap makes him think of spanking you, so he does, not caring that you whine every time his hand comes down heavily on the fat curves of your ass

"you're a fucking slut sis, and this is how sluts get fucked" he grunts as he gets close, the thought of leaving his cum in you to wake up to spurring him to fuck you faster, harder, deeper

"can't wait to hear you ask why my jizz is in your pussy, might have to fuck you right then and there, again. show you, hng- fuck, how I put it there"

"dabi.." you whimper and even though he can see your eyes are still closed the thought that you on some level know its him and want this?

he's blowing his load in you and fucking it deep, letting it leak down your thighs and coat his balls because it feels like he has never cum this much in his life

it makes him happy to see the puddle of cum forming under your ass when he pulls out, and he pushes his cum covered cock into your mouth letting you get him hard with your subconscious sucking while you clean him off

he repeats the actions with his balls, taking a video of your sleeping face taking his heavy sac in your mouth while his hardening shaft sits on your forehead

when he's all clean, and you're tucked in with the messy present he left you, he kisses your forehead and turns off the music and lights so you can sleep murmuring almost fondly "see you in the morning sis"

Shouto

you're wet for him, and that simple fact is making it all too easy to explain away the dubious morality of his actions

since you smoked so much he knew you were out for the night no matter what he did to you

the possibilities that entailed made him feel more intoxicated than the weed in his system did. he tugged your panties off and spread your lush thighs, and the soft sigh of his name from your lips made your pussy taste even sweeter on his tongue

every finger he added in stretching you out made you moan and sigh and god he was so fucking hard wondering what you'd sound like with his cock in you

turns out you sounded even better than he could have imagined, and your pussy gripped him so perfectly he never wanted to pull out

he tried to fuck you slow, make it last, be gentle with you, but you were restless beneath him, whimpering needily, and it was like you were made for him

because when he lost his patience and slammed into you with more force than he intended you moaned. loudly, his name- sounding like he had finally given you everything you ever wanted

so he pounded you into the mattress, trying not to cum to soon even though you were sucking him in and milking him like all you wanted was his cum in your pussy

his cock twitched at the thought of just leaving his cum in you. he didn't know if you were on the pill or anything, and how little he cared if you weren't should have scared him. instead he fucked into you deeper, and decided he felt like gambling

[simpcxty]

You said you needed ideas so hear me out-

Sfw- trans! Reader (ftm) with Tsukishima who gives tough love and hates it when you have really bad dysphoria days. Snaps at anyone who misgenders you.

NSFW- oikawa would be such a tease when you get needy and shit. Like this fucker would tease you after you beg because he told you to beg.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!! You have given me brain fuel, and for that. I love you 🧡

I have never written something in one day. Thank you, you have truly inspired me 😩👏

TW for Tsukishima: deadnaming and misgendering, deadname is your choice, but Y/n will be for your new name and Y/d/n for your dead name because no dads are mentioned here. Gets a little angsty but they figure it out.

I didn’t want to be disrespectful to anyone and choose a name that might be someone’s new name or dead name.

Also I’m sorry if my writing isn’t accurate for a ftm character. I did my best and I really hope you like it!

I did my best with the tough love but it does get a bit fluffy tbh.

Kei Tsukishima

Kei always tries.

He really does. You guys had started dating before you came out, and the switch from your dead name to Y/n had him caught off guard.

So did the sudden shift of pronouns.

But he didn’t leave, so he was trying to do his best all right?

But he’s already bad with emotions, these are a different kind that he doesn’t even know how to approach.

So he gives it the same energy he does with everything else.

Today though.

Something was very odd about today.

His normal words had you flashing him your best fake smile and turning away from him.

And trust me, he could tell the difference.

But for now, he chose not to comment.

Will it be one of those days today?

You didn’t like to talk about your Dysphoria but Kei always picked up on it.

Or at least he tried to.

He even had a custom made chest binder coming in the mail that should be here any day now.

But when you leave the room after Kei’s not incorrect but painfully blunt statement went straight to your very soul.

He replays the conversation in his head to see where he messed up.

He found himself doing that a lot.

‘I get that you’re trying Kei. It just sucks that other people don’t even bother.’

‘I don’t really think it’s that big of a deal. They’re stupid people who don’t even matter at least I’m trying. Imagine if I wasn’t?’

It made you question everything.

Did he even want to be trying?

Why are you being a nuisance?

Why are you putting him through this. He’s got much more important things to be focusing on as a senior in college this year.

You’re finally being true to yourself and putting him through unnecessary stress aren’t you? What is wrong with you?

All of these thoughts and more swarmed your head as you leaned against the bathroom counter trying to catch your breathing.

Stop it. Stop being such a big crybaby.

Kei Tsukishima doesn’t need a crybaby.

Why does it have to hurt so damn bad to just be a girl? He’d like you so much more as a girl.

“Y/n..?” His voice sounds so tired.

Damn it Y/n. Get your fucking shit together.

“Please talk to me.. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that babe.. I just-“ his eyes almost seem dull when you open the door, only to brighten when you open the door and he gets a good view of you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that, I just- I don’t, I don’t know how to handle this sometimes, but I don’t want you to think I don’t care. It’s just new, and I can get adjusted-“ he feels his heart clench a bit when your next words come out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t just stay who I was, I’m sorry I couldn’t just be a girl for-“ and he’s grabbing your face with his palms as tears start to well up in his eyes.

“Shut up. Shut up, because I love you however I can have you. I love you. I just want you, please don’t get confused and think I have a preference because I just want you Y/n. I love you, no matter who you are. Please don’t forget that.” The tears streaming down your face slow as he kisses your head and wraps his arms around you.

“Im sorry Kei.” He kisses your head again.

“Shh, stop it. Stop apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for babe, we do need to finish getting ready for class though okay?” You nod and he smiles.

———

When you get to school, he can almost feel the anxiety wafting from you.

But he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around you and pull you along with him.

“You have me, okay? I’m just as much yours as you are mine babe.” You nod and expect him to pull him arm away, and he does, only to entangle his hand in yours.

“Tsukishima!” No- because he recognizes that annoyingly high pitched voice, and he’s not in the mood for it. Nor will you be.

So he picks up speed. Keeping his hand tight around yours and pulling you in front of him, only to wrap his arms around you slightly and speed up even more.

“Kei what are you doing?” You think he’s going to ignore you until he speaks up finally.

“Don’t want to deal with her.”

“Y/d/n can you-“ he stops right in his tracks and turns around to acknowledge the blonde.

“Alisa is it? See how easy was that? I wasn’t even sure. You know for a fact that isn’t the proper name that he goes by. So correct yourself, or don’t talk to my boyfriend or me. Got it?” She goes to speak again but Tsukishima already has you two walking again and his ears are flushed.

“Tsuki-?” You’re blushing and he tightens his grip on your waist.

“It wasn’t right, I’ll correct anyone who gets it wrong. Even myself.” You smiled and he manages to crack a small one.

Kei Tsukishima always tries.

———————————————————————

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD

I didn’t know if you still wanted a ftm character so this one is just written female.

READ RESPONSIBLY PLEASE

Characters aged up 18+

“Beg.” You scoffed.

“I don’t beg.” Your hips are rising as he pressed his thumb harder against your clit and you whimper.

“I won’t do anything more until you beg.” You rolled your eyes and attempt to sit up. Only for him to wrap a hand around your throat and push you back down.

“Toru, I don’t beg-“ he tightens his grip around your throat and you whine.

“I said, beg.” The way he demands it in your ear has your thighs attempting to clam shut.

Key word, attempting.

“Are you gonna listen to a single thing I say princess? Or am I gonna have to leave you here like this?” You looked up at him desperately and his grip around your neck loosens a bit.

“Please, please just fuck me already. I need it Toru, it’s been too long please just do it already-“ you’re cut off with whines as his tip prods at your entrance, but the pressure on your clit is still hard and you know he’s waiting for more.

“Please! Please fuck me! I need you Toru please!” He chuckles and pushes in agonizingly slowly.

“Like you said babe, it’s been too long. I need to go easy on your pretty pussy.” You whine at that.

“Don’t want you to go easy- just fuck me rough please!” Tears of frustration pool in your eyes and he laughs.

“Awe, don’t cry princess, I’ll give you what you want. You begged so nicely.” The sudden snap of his hips has you unable to respond to his taunt.

Yeah so what you begged. You’re getting dicked down by this god of a man. I’d say that’s a win.

His hands were both on your hips now as he thrusted into as if his life depended on it.

“Missed you so much.” He whines and a particularly hard thrust has you reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.

The new position has you sliding down on his dick so much easier, and the way he can just lift you up and down quickly has him whining more.

“M’gonna cum. Off.” He whimpers as you tighten and start to lift yourself off and grabs your hips. He’s never cum so fast but you don’t mind.

“T-Toru-!” He gasps as you tighten more and his hips thrust up desperately.

“Nevermind, I wanna cum inside. Please, please let me cum inside. You feel so good, just wanna cum inside your warm pussy hnngh~ please!” His hips are starting to falter and you know he’s getting closer as his hands tighten around your waist, lifting you up and down to meet with his sloppy thrusts.

“Please!” He’s begging and you almost laugh.

“Oh god please, just wanna cream inside you please!” He has to stop thrusting and you’d almost think he did cum.

But you knew better. His nails digging into your hips and his ragged breathing against your neck has you melting.

“Did you even really have to ask? Just cum babe.” Your words are so nonchalant that he’s whining and picking up his thrusts again.

“fuckfuckfuckohfuckyes” his voice is messy and it’s almost gibberish.

But as you tighten around him and his hips falter he’s moaning and whimpering into your chest and neck.

“So tight, ngHh shit~” he moans whorishly as you cum around him and cum spurts out of him and into you.

“You fuck me so good. So so good Y/n.” His hips are still sputtering and you’re wondering just how long it’s been since he’s actually gotten off.

“Thank you, Thank you so fucking much baby.” His cum is already spilling out of you and he’s still finishing.

This’ll be a fun cleanup.

He finally lays you down on the bed and lays his head in between the valley on your chest as he catches his breath.

“You begged.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer, making you whimper while he stays inside of you.

“Do I need to remind you how you sounded when you wanted to cum Toru?” His head shoots up at that and his cheeks flush.

“But you’re so warm. So tight and comfy. I didn’t and still don’t want to leave.” He whines and wiggles his hips upward and you whimper. You can’t help but clench as he thrusts up again and whines again.

He keeps up the occasional thrusts. Neither of you have the energy for a second round. That much is obvious. But the bliss is overwhelming.

“Don’t want to pull out yet. Please don’t make me.” He whines and you just clench around him to tease.

“Fuck. Don’t do that. M’still hard and I’m ninety percent sure if you keep doing that I’m gonna stuff your already full pussy again.” You hummed and he wraps his arms around you.

“Empty threats. We’re both too tired, you know we’ll just go again when we wake up.”

“I’m gonna get you pregnant.” He says it confidently, you couldn’t even laugh at the statement. Because he probably and most definitely will.

“I mean if that’s what you want, I wouldn’t mind having a little Oikawa running around.” Almost all his stamina is back in that moment.

Congratulations you have unlocked

Breeding King with Toru Oikawa 🔓

Neither of you ended up sleeping that night.