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skbeaumont · 8 months ago

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Scars – A Joel Miller/Reader Oneshot

“You have them too.” You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair. “Yes,” He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel. “Show me.”

Summary: When Joel stumbles into the kitchen at 2am, restless and tense, he doesn't expect to find you at the table, nursing a cold mug of tea. He certainly doesn't expect to end up tracing the scars on your skin, explaining how he got his, your hands mapping the contors of each other's old wounds until something new emerges.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, mutual pining, kind of angsty but also fluffy?, descriptions of old injuries, explicit sex, PIV, fingering, dirty talk, body worship, flirting, yearning, mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 3.3k

It’s late, and the rest of Jackson is asleep.

A single street lamp lights the dark kitchen, casting a soft orange glow over the table and your half empty mug. The tea is long-since cold, but you keep your hands wrapped around it anyway, trying to soak up the last of its heat. There’s a microwave behind you, and a coffee machine, and enough hot water to fill several baths, but after twenty years of surviving by fire light and camping stoves, these modern conveniences still seem like the technology of your childhood, distant and unrealistic. And so the tea remains cold.

You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the normality of Jackson: the routine and order and kindness that seeps into every interaction, every town meeting and evening out. It’s been four months since you arrived – limping and half-dead, frozen almost solid by the bitter Wyoming winter – at the town’s gates.

And now you’re inside on a mild spring night, sharing a house with a man and his not-daughter, healthy and almost whole again. The town council were apologetic about housing you with Joel and Ellie: it was the only house with a spare bedroom at the time, but in truth it had been a relief. There was something overwhelmingly comforting about being around other people again, sleeping only a thin wall away from another human being, sharing meals and chores.

Joel’s quiet and serious most of the time, but you see cracks appearing in his hard exterior when he’s with Ellie, or his brother Tommy. Something of the man that existed before the world ended. And more recently he’s started opening up to you, too; rolling his eyes at you behind Ellie’s back when she swears or insults houseguests, chuckling at your bad jokes, letting his guard down when he gets home from a hard day’s construction work, allowing you to make him hot drinks and massage his sore shoulders.

You’re careful not to push anything too far, but the slow roll into familiarity with Joel has bred something less familial, too. Something wanting and churning that settles deep in your belly when you’re around him. It makes you want to press yourself against him, settle yourself in the crook of his shoulder, lick the thick tendons of his neck. Whether he feels the same is a mystery. He’s older than you by a couple of decades, not that that matters to you – you’re both adults – but he maintains a distance. Lets you massage his shoulders but never makes a sound while you do it. Holds the door open for you but keeps a respectful distance when you walk side-by-side through town. Allows you to rest your feet in his lap in the evenings on the sofa, but doesn’t touch them, or acknowledge them. You’ve heard him moving around in the night, restless and fidgety, but he never comes to your room on those long dark nights seeking comfort or companionship.

He's been quiet since he went to bed several hours earlier on this particular night, which is why it’s a shock when the kitchen light flickers on, illuminating Joel’s broad silhouette in the doorway. You scramble out of the chair onto your feet, heart thumping. He holds a hand up, calmingly, doesn’t move as your eyes adjust to the light.

“Fucking hell, Joel. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” He takes a step into the kitchen, feet bare on the terracotta tiles.

He’s still in his clothes from today, dark jeans under a thin grey tee, both slightly crumpled as though he’s slept in them. He always does. Undoubtedly it’s the same ritual that makes him keep a pistol on his bedside table, leave a packed go-bag by the front door; the same anxiety that casts dark shadows under his eyes, fuels his insomnia and maintains his habitual whiskey drinking. He’s ready for anything, always, because he’s been through shit and he thinks at any moment it’ll happen again. You understand. It’s why you’re in the kitchen at 2am, cold tea clutched between shaking hands.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask, as he opens a high cupboard and pulls out a tumbler.

You move around him, tip the dregs of your tea down the sink.

“Something like that,” He replies, voice croaky.

He pours the whiskey out into the glass, swirls it in thick fingers and then rests back against the kitchen counter opposite you, eyes finally finding yours. They hover for a moment on your face, dark and penetrating, then flick to one shoulder, the other, down your arm.

You keep them covered, normally. Wear long sleeves even in the heat of summer, never undress around anyone. You’ve avoided the swimming pond that opened three weeks ago, even though the water looked heavenly in the warm April weather, unwillingly to bear the scars that litter your body to the town, afraid they’ll show the community who you really are, reveal the terrible things you’ve done to survive. But unlike Joel you don’t have a habit of sleeping in your clothes, and the thin vest and shorts you’re wearing now reveals those long-hidden scars to him in the bright kitchen light.

The bullet wound is the worst one; a puckered, deep purple starburst across one shoulder, skin wrought into something alien and terrible. It’s this one that his gaze linger on, dark eyes making heat roll up your spine. His fist is gripping the whiskey glass so tightly that the tips of his fingers and knuckles are white with the strain of it.

“They’re awful, I know.” You say into the silence.

“What? No- God, no. They’re not.” A pause, his eyes flicking away from yours, over to the far wall, back across. “I’ve got ‘em, too. We all have.”

You scoff at this. Move your hand up, place it on your shoulder. His hand twitches where it rests on the countertop, but he doesn’t move.

“You cover them.” He says. It’s not a question, but you feel like you have to answer anyway.

“Yes.” A breath, shaky on the exhale. “They’re ugly.” “No.” His voice is firm, commanding in the quiet kitchen. Despite yourself, you feel heat pooling between your thighs and you fidget, pressing them together, crossing your feet. The movement makes his eye dart down to your bare legs. You watch the apple of his throat as he swallows thickly, eyes trailing up to the hem of your shorts. There’s a scar there, too, bisecting your upper thigh. Thin and white, a reminder of a long ago incident with barbed wire.

“They’re not…” His voice trails off, eyes searching your face. “Nothing on you is ugly. Not even the scars. Especially not the scars.”

“No?”

“No.” He shifts, puts the whiskey glass down on the counter behind him and lifts his hand to your shoulder. Fingertips trace the edge of the bullet scar, and you feel goosepimples rise in their wake despite the warmth of the kitchen. He runs his hand up past its end, to your throat, along your collar bone and to the other arm. The scars there are paler, older. Shrapnel and grazes from a fall. Each one his fingertips trace reverently, as though they’re a holy text written across your skin. When he reaches the last, the one that loops around your wrist, the indent of a handcuff, you’re sure your heart is thumping so loudly he must be able to hear it, too. Slick is pooling between your thighs, hot and wet against the thin shorts you’re wearing.

“There are more,” You say, so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

“Show me.”

It’s like a dance. You pull off your vest and Joel’s hand follows the curve of your waist, thumb dipping to press the small coin-shaped scar just below your rib cage. You sigh and he lets his hand run over your ribs, fingertips finding the spaces between like piano keys. When he reaches the curve of your bare breast he pauses, the weight of your flesh resting in the valley between his index finger and thumb. You don’t say anything, just lean into him, holding his eye contact, the pleasure and warmth of his hand making you bold. He moves slowly, carefully, rolling the bud of your nipple between his finger and thumb, pinching just so, pleasure blossoming in your chest, down your spine and to your cunt.

“This okay?” He asks, eyes flicking up from his hand to your face, tracking the pull of your eyebrows as they pitch together, the move of your mouth as you answer him with a shaky exhale.

“What about this one?” He asks, hand leaving your breast to trace across the scar that laces up your thigh under the hem of your shorts. “Can I?”

You’re not sure what he’s asking but you know that you want him to, want him to do whatever it is he’s asking so you nod. His hand grip your waist to lift you, setting you down on the kitchen counter. You grasp at his shoulders, the solid breadth of him hard under your hands. The counter is cold against the back of your legs, but before you can complain his hot hand is wrapped back around your thigh, thumb tracing the scar there again, fingertips inching up to the apex of your legs. He moves to stand between your open legs, still keeping a few inches of distance between you, the extra height of the counter making your eyes level. His burn into your face as he slips his hand higher still, fingers seeking out the wet heat of you, dipping inside, gathering slick and gliding it up to your clit.

“Joel,” You say into the aching gap between your lips and his.

“You’re fucking perfect,” He says, the words hot on your mouth, his breath mingling with your needy sighs. “All of you, you understand?”

You can only nod into his shoulder, head dropping to rest against the broad heft of it, his fingers thrumming a steady rhythm against your clit that has pleasure ratcheting up inside you. You’re still in your tiny sleep shorts, Joel’s hand forcing the crotch aside to palm at your drenched cunt. He slips two thick fingers into you, presses his thumb to your clit, and that tips you over the edge, pleasure coursing through you like fire.

He talks you through it, keeps up the firm press of his fingers, praises falling from his lips like prayers.

Good girl, that’s it, such a good fucking girl for me, taking what you need, so fucking perfect.

It’s only then, as you come down from the high, that he finally kisses you, tilting your head up with a gentle hand and fitting his lips to yours. They’re soft and dry, plush against your own. He slides his tongue against the seam of your lips, into the wet heat of your mouth, pulls back, before driving forward again, breathless and frantic. You thread your hands into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging him against you, teeth clashing in your mutual desperation. His pulls his fingers from your wet heat, smears your slick up your sides as his palms your breasts, his earlier gentleness gone. But when you slip a hand between your bodies, seeking out the hard length of him in his jeans, he pulls back. His eyes are dark despite the bright kitchen light, pupils eating up the thin sliver of brown at the edges, but there’s a reticence there.

“You have them too.” You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair.

“Yes,” He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel.

“Show me.”

He steps back, out of the circle of your legs, pulls at the neck of his t-shirt and drags it up, over his head and off. His eyes are fixed on you, watching you as you take in the broad bulk of him, the sloping plains of his shoulders and chest down to a softer stomach. He’s all strength: hard where you’re soft, his scars stretched across thick muscle and tanned flesh. There’s one at his side that canters a jagged line across his stomach, and that’s where your hand goes, holding his waist to rest your thumb against its uneven edge. It looks fairly fresh, no more than a couple of years old, still red.

“What’s this from?” You ask.

“I was stabbed,” He replies, “while I was with Ellie.”

“It looks like it was bad.”

“Well, she stitched it up, so,” He smiles, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes, growing bolder as your hands map his chest and stomach.

“And this one?” An old one, hardly noticeable in the light, to the right of his belly button.

“Appendicitis, when I was twelve.”

“These?” A collection of four or five small white gash marks, peppered across his shoulders and along his collarbone.

“Makeshift grenade.” He says. “Went off in my hand.”

You lean forward, press your lips to the first of the scars and kiss it, drag your lips along to the second, and then the third. At the fourth you let your tongue dart out, tasting the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, salty and warm. He stands stock still as you do so, hands resting at your hips, fingertips gripping the flesh there tight enough to leave bruises. He sighs at the feel of your tongue against his skin, the insistent press of your mouth to his collarbone, your teeth, scraping at the tendon that jolts in his neck.

This time, when you reach for the button of his jeans he helps you, pops the first button, drags the zipper down and pushes them off his hips, revealing thick thighs corded with muscle, dusted with dark hair. He kicks the jeans the rest of the way off, steps forward again into the circle of your hips, letting you knead the thick flesh of his ass, pull him against you so that his hot length is pressed to the crotch of your shorts, two pieces of thin cotton the only thing separating you.

You kiss up the column of his throat, press your teeth to his ear lobe, and are rewarded with a soft groan that sends pleasure sparking up your spine again, cunt clenching down on nothing. His cock twitches against you when you lick a stripe along the underside of his jaw. You fit your lips back to his. This kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing, his strong nose pressed to yours, one of his hands fisting in your hair, gripping tight at the ponytail at the base of your neck, holding you to him. You shuffle on the counter, pull your shorts off and down to join his jeans and shirt on the tiled floor.

“Take them off,” You say into his mouth, needy fingers sliding into the waistband of his briefs, seeking the length of him.

He does as you ask, bending to push them down, cock dipping and slapping up against his stomach as he frees it. He’s big, thick and beautiful, veins standing out against the shaft, precum beading at the tip. He hisses into your open mouth when you wrap your fist around him and stroke slowly up and down, thumb seeking out his slit, spreading his arousal and yours over it and down his length.

“Jesus, darlin’,” He sighs against the side of your neck, stubble rough against you, his hands seeking out the weight of your tits again, pressing open mouthed kisses against your skin.

You pull him back against you, press the blunt head of him to your slick entrance and watch him watch himself sink inside you, inch by inch, stretching you open. The burn of it is intoxicating, his thick length opening you up, pressing inside deliciously, white-hot pleasure blossoming up through your body.

“Feels so good, Joel,” You tell him as he shakes against you, bottoming out and dragging himself out only to press back inside.

“Pussy’s so goddamn perfect,” He says, his voice almost cracking with the effort of it.

“Please, Joel,” you hiss, “harder, please.”

The sound he makes then is animalistic, something between a grunt and a growl, teeth clenched, jaw pressed hard to your neck. He tightens his grip on your hips, anchors you to the counter and starts pounding into you. The strength of him is something to behold, his hips snapping into yours, muscles of his back shifting and clenching beneath your grasping hands.

“So fucking good,” he groans, “wanna stay inside you for the rest of my fucking life, darlin’.”

You don’t know how he’s so articulate; it’s all you can do to hold on to his shoulders and let him fuck you, whimpers and moans pouring from your open lips as he does, the slap of his hips against yours filthy in the otherwise silent house. When he slows his thrusts again he pulls back from you to watch where you’re joined, eyes dark, perspiration beading on his forehead. There’s a vein in his neck that’s pulsing visibly, a drop of sweat trickling down beside it, charting a course through patchy stubble. He reaches between your bodies, splays his hand over your mound and presses his thumb to your clit.

“Yes, Joel, please, God.”

“I can feel how close you are, darlin’” He says, “can feel you gripping me so tight.”

He strums his thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing small, tight circles that have you seeing stars within seconds, tension coiling inside you, ratcheting up until it breaks on a hard thrust of his hips, his cock hitting that spongy place inside you that sends pleasure right down to your toes. You come hard, fingernails digging into the hard flesh of his shoulders, Joel’s mouth clamped to your throat, teeth worrying the skin there, repeating the same phrase over and over as you come down.

There it is, there it is, good girl, I’ve got you.

He thrusts lazily into you as you slowly relax again, little aftershocks continuing for several long minutes, the blunt head of him hitting that same spot inside you again and again. You can tell he’s close now, his hands shaking where they’re gripping your hips again, face set in concentration, squeezing his eyes shut every few thrusts as though he’s desperately trying to hold himself back.

“Let go, Joel. Please,” You whisper, and he hisses through his teeth, pulls you bodily forward on the counter so that the angle changes and he can drive up into you, his pace quickening again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’” He rasps, thrusting into you once- twice- three more times.

He pulls out then, fist gripping the base of his cock as he paints your stomach and cunt with his cum, hot and thick. His face is a rapture, eyes pitch black, teeth bared with pleasure and need, the strong set of his jaw holding together what little restraint he has left.

He kisses you again after, drags kitchen roll from the holder to clean you up, presses sweet lips to your cheeks and temples, down your neck, across your chest, like he’s trying to taste the ecstasy that’s written across your heated skin.

Outside, dawn is quickly approaching. The weak rays of sunlight that filter into the kitchen illuminate the tan glow of Joel’s face and paint the scars on your bodies in pale yellow light. You don’t think anything’s ever looked more beautiful.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x you #the last of us fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic

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miyukisu · 3 months ago

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NSFW Alphabet | Sae Itoshi .ᐟ

❤︎ | Get to know Sae Itoshi from A to Z~ ╰ feat. sae itoshi x afab! reader

minors do not interact

[A] Aftercare Decent. Bare minimum. Not over the top. At the very least he would wipe you down and clean you up without expecting you to move an inch. He'll even guide you to the bathroom if you plan to shower together (there are times when he carries you, but that's reserved for days when he REALLY goes all out on you). You have to specifically request for things if you want him to do it. Otherwise, that's all you're getting.

[B] Body Part Sae's canonically into ass. But it's important to note that he cares more about shape rather than size. He'll subtly ogle at your ass even in broad daylight, especially if you're wearing tight clothes that showcase it. On himself, however, he's aware of how nice his thighs look. Sometimes he'll pass by a full-length body mirror in just his boxers and he'll stand there for a minute to admire his legs. Partially, this is why he enjoys working out his legs.

[C] Cum Cums a lot, but not thick. It's more on the translucent side. He maintains a healthy diet so you can expect the taste to be bearable. Of course, he likes to release on your ass, but sometimes it gets on to your back as well. It's a sight he never gets tired of.

[D] Dirty Secret Even with his partner, he would hate to admit that he likes taking nude pictures of himself. It's not like he's going to send them out or that he gets off to it; he's no narcissist. But there's just something inexplicable about doing it. He'll snap a few, look at them, then delete them. He isn't sure why. But if you're into receiving nudes, he'll gladly comply (that is, if you've been together long enough).

[E] Experience Despite his good looks, it's surprising to know that he hasn't done it with a lot of people. He only does it with someone he's in a relationship with and even that rarely happens. He's a busy person and it takes longer for him to develop trust for anyone compared to the normal person. But you could say that he's a natural. He can make you cum at least a couple of times through instinct alone.

[F] Favorite Position He has a hard time picking between plain ol' doggy and reverse cowgirl. See any similarities? Yeah, both positions just give him a nice view of your behind. It allows him to grope, squeeze, and slap it any time he wants. He particularly likes watching it jiggle at every hard thrust that he does. Although, he might prefer doggy a little more as he can have most of the control in that position. But it's trivial to pick. He'll just have you in both positions each time you decide to do it anyway.

[G] Goofy The man doesn't smile, let alone laugh, during sex. It's not that he's not enjoying it, but he doesn't find the act to be humorous at all. He finds it weird to call it "fun". He'd rather describe it as passionate and intense which is why he's serious. However, there are VERY rare moments when he cracks a small smile, but it only happens in highly emotional moments (like your first time having sex as a married couple, for example).

[H] Hair He trims it, but not for sexual purposes. He's an extremely hygienic man, so he does it out of self-care. In reality, he doesn't care too much about what their partner thinks of his hair. If they like it; then great. If they don't; they can deal with it. Besides, he doesn't care about his partner's hair. He'll take whatever's waiting for him down there. He'll never go fully bald because he finds it odd. He'll trim it a bit regularly and that's about it.

[I] Intimacy A very passionate lover; that's for sure. As I've mentioned, he finds the act to be something serious. He'll only do it with you out of love and care. So even if he doesn't outwardly seem like a romantic person in bed, he definitely is. He likes to keep it fair in the bedroom. So if he's enjoying, you should be enjoying it just as much as he is. Although, he doesn't speak much, but he'll call you "Amor" sometimes. Sae will whisper that name in your ear gently.

[J] Jack Off As you might expect, he doesn't do it a lot. For one, he's too busy doing or thinking about something else. It's something that he can only think about doing when he's lying in bed at night with a blank mind. Sae mostly does it out of frustration—if he wants to release pent up emotions without lashing out on someone else. He's quick and likes to get the job done as fast as he can. Can you blame him? It relaxes him after all. Though, he isn't immune to temptation either. If you send him jack off material, he'll gladly use it.

[K] Kink Sae discovered it a bit late, but he likes brat taming. He doesn't even know that it's a thing. He just knows that he likes putting disobedient girls in their places. He'll act annoyed or pissed off at your insolence, but deep down, he's craving that you do it more. Something about feeling that his authority is being challenged, excites him. Of course, it adds some spice to your bedroom activities. But maybe it has to do with him proving to you over and over again that he's the one in control—he's the one holding the reigns. He especially loves it when you eventually become obedient in the end. But keep being a tease; he eats it up.

[L] Location Anywhere as long as it's inside the house/apartment/hotel. He likes the privacy and comfort that those places offer. He can't be bothered to think about the possibility of getting caught. As thrilling as it might be, he has a reputation to uphold. The impending PR work is not worth the orgasm, at least for him. He also would hate to do it in a place that would force you into a weird position. At least at home there's a bed, a couch, a chair, or a counter for you to use. Again, he's a hygienic guy, so the dirty outdoors is a huge no for him.

[M] Motivation First of all, he has to be either extremely relaxed or incredibly frustrated—there is no in between. But once either condition is met, it's not that hard to get him in the mood. In fact, he likes to hear how eager you are. Simply asking him if he wants to do it would be more than enough. Even better if you express how much you've been needing him throughout the day or week. There are times when he initiates things, but that usually happens when you're already touching each other (like while cuddling). You'll know because he'll grind his hard on against you or deliberately take your hand and place it there.

[N] No Anything extreme is off the table for him. In many ways, he's quite vanilla. The farthest he'll go would be a little bit of bondage and usage of toys. But if there's extreme pain, blood, piss, and things beyond that involved—consider him out.

[O] Oral Again, he likes to keep things pretty equal, so likes both giving and receiving. Although, you might notice that he'll go at your pussy first before letting you suck him off. It gets him into the momentum apparently. Plus, most of the time, he already gets you to cum from his tongue alone. You swear that he gets better each time he does it. You can never last long since he likes to suck on the clit, oop. When you suck him off, he'll tangle his fingers in your hair and guide you lightly. He lets you do your thing, pretty much. The only exception is when he's really stressed out—expect him to tug at your hair a little harder then.

[P] Pace He usually likes it slow and sensual. Sex is the only time he feels relaxed and in control of his time. Why would he want to rush it? The atmosphere also feels different for him when he goes slow. Furthermore, Sae uses this as a way to observe you properly—which spots to hit, which points to stimulate at the same time, and so on. It gets him off knowing that he can get better and better at providing pleasure. Consider it as part of his ego as well. He might take it slow, but there are definitely moments when he pounds you hard and steady. The type of pounding that needs you to hold on for dear life or else you'll fall.

[Q] Quickie Not really a fan of it. But it's not like he would never do it. Sae will only resort to quickies when absolutely necessary. Those kinds of situations are mostly when both of your schedules are packed and there is literally not enough time to have proper sex. That or when both of you feel incredibly frustrated and nothing else will satiate you but each other. Another reason why he doesn't do this as much is that it leaves him wanting more. He hates feeling like a needy idiot, so he avoids quickies as much as he can.

[R] Risk He'll try anything not-so-extreme at least once, especially if you ask him nicely. Though he has shown interest in experimenting in bondage a bit, more specifically, in shibari. It's a bit intricate and it might hurt you a bit if not done right, but if you're willing to share that risk with him—he's game. From the Sae perspective, I'd say a risky thing that he does is whispering things in your ear he wouldn't normally say. He just likes to keep you on your toes and the way you clench down on him is just way too good. Besides, you'll most likely forget he said it anyway because he fucks you dumb most of the time.

[S] Stamina His endurance and stamina in general are certainly well-trained, but he is just a man. His dick needs to recuperate at its own pace. Maybe he can last two rounds for the most part, but there are days when he can only last for one. But it's not much of an issue. In that one round, he can last for so long. He can take advantage of that time and make you cum over and over again. Besides, even if you've milked him for the time being, he can still go at it with his mouth and fingers. You'll never catch him breathless after a few measly minutes.

[T] Toys He doesn't own any. He feels silly spending money on such things and using it on himself. But if it's for you; he'll gladly spend as much as he needs. He just doesn't see the appeal of using it on himself. Pocket pussies? Cock rings? Seems a bit ridiculous to him. But if you happen to own a vibe or two, he'll definitely use it. There's no harm in heightening your pleasure anyway. He's also chill with a bit of bondage rope and handcuffs. He's a bit iffy about using dildos though. Maybe it's because of his pride, but what's the use of it when you can have his dick instead?

[U] Unfair He's a tease without even trying. The snarky remarks that he makes comes out of his mouth naturally. "Oh, you're cumming again? You're too easy," and he'll say it with a straight face. Sometimes when you do ask him to fuck you faster, he'll ignore you on purpose. The man wants to hear you beg so nicely for him after being such a brat earlier. Although, he's surprisingly less of a tease as you'd expect.

[V] Volume Mostly grunts and groans. He claims that you will never hear him whimper, so of course, you make it your life's purpose to get him to whimper. It has yet to happen. And he does find it amusing that you think that you can make THE Sae Itoshi whimper like a bitch. Aside from that, the sounds he makes aren't so loud. He makes sure the grunts near your ear, containing it there. BUT, a little quirk of his is that he lets out a long sigh once he cums. It just feels so relieving that he can't help it anymore.

[W] Wild Card He thinks he'd bust right away sometimes whenever you stare up at him while you suck him off. Seeing you servicing him so eagerly while on your knees does things to his brain. It makes his ego swell like insane. "You're such a good girl, amor. You love me alot, don't you?" He'll wipe away the tears that threaten to fall because your jaw's so stretched out. Sae knows you're struggling a bit, but hang on for now and he'll reward you plenty afterwards.

[X] X-ray Not that girthy, but loooooong. He has quite a pretty dick, especially since he keeps it neat down there as well. It doesn't curve that much, but it is quite veiny. You can see the veins because of his pale complexion. There's one particularly thick vein that feels the best when rubbing against your walls. He's also cut, so you know that he has a light pink tip. Definitely a shower.

[Y] Yearning He's definitely more inclined to have sex than jacking off. That's because he'll actually make time for it. Sae will find ways to clear up his schedule or at least have more time with you—to have sex and to do things other than sex, of course. It's an odd, but helpful, trait of his that he can easily match the libido of his partner. Unless if his partner has an insanely high libido, then you'd probably have to find even ground. But again, it's not hard to get him into the mood. So if you initiate or ask him, more often than not—he'll get down and dirty with you in a heartbeat.

[Z] Zzz He doesn't fall asleep right away because, A) he needs to clean up and take care of you, and B) he just isn't tired enough. Don't get him wrong—good pussy pushes him to the edge, but being well-trained just helps him to not pass out immediately after busting. However, he will fall asleep right away once you're all cleaned up and the bed (which presumably got drenched) is all tidied up. Once you're sleeping soundly in his arms, he'll let himself be consumed by slumber as well.

❤︎ Overall: Sae's quite a good lover in that he puts effort and meaning into sex and that he's constantly improving. He genuinely cares about making it an activity both of you enjoy. 10/10 experience.

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note Actually a bit terrified that I might have butchered Sae Itoshi in this one

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock headcanons #blue lock smut #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #sae smut #sae itoshi smut #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk headcanons #bllk smut #♪ ── luvr.fm // works #♪ ── luvr.fm // ABCs

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bunnys-kisses · 9 days ago

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heirloom tomatoes

simon "ghost" riley

tags: smut/pwp, farmer!au, romance/intimacy, size difference/kink, proposal, fruits and vegetables, sweet & gentle sex, slice of life

a/n: i've been playing too much stardw valley... (there may be more to this)

wilby port was there you got sent to. you had been living in england for some time now, but you were used to the hustle and bustle of london. the constant grind of the day to day. and now you were grabbing your two suitcases off the bus to the small harbour town.

the little house near the edge of town was your new home after your great aunt passed away. you know you could've sold the house and the land around it. but, after years of working so hard in the city. the idea of an escape felt exciting. so you took it as a chance and ended up in the quiet town.

that was where you met simon riley.

the first spring in the town, you had to figure out how to kill time. you had tried a few hobbies here and there, but with the season in bloom. you wanted to try gardening. and while you could've planted strawberries or even some peppers. you decided on heirloom tomatoes, and with poor internet connection in the town and an excitement that left you with little patience.

you had to ask those in town.

johnny shrugged, "i'd say go to ghost." he placed both hands on the bar and leaned forward to look at you, "he lives closer to the river. i'd say be careful. he likes to bite." the snapped his jaws playfully before he laughed.

"ah, ghost." price said when you asked him, "yeah he'd be your best bed." as he had the cleaver in one hand, "quite man, but if you're direct in your questions he'll give you everythin' ya need." then chopped at the meat on the table.

kyle replied when you asked him while he was doing research at the beach, "i'd say ghost, honestly. he has some kind of green thumb that i couldn't imagine. you know it's possible to kill a cactus." he laughed as he got more of the sand into the test tube, "your best bet would be him. ghost."

it left you with one question, who the hell was ghost?

it took a little while before you found ghost's house. you don't know why you expected to find a haunted house at the end of your adventures. something to match this so-called ghost. but instead you found a small farm house, crowded with various plants.

while it was in abundance, every plant looked healthy and well maintained. this looked like someone who would know how to grow heirloom tomatoes. you knocked on the door and when the door opened, you took a step back from the man who answered it.

he stood over six feet, he was broad all over. he was in a red long sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up. as a result you could see his arm full of tattoos. it made you swallow as you tried to maintain eye contact with him.

"can i help you?" he asked as he eyed you up and down.

you swallowed, "um hi! i was wondering if ghost was here?" it sounded weird in your head but you straightened up a little, "i was told by others that he could help me grow tomatoes."

the man looked intimidating. he was curly blond hair, dark brown eyes, his nose was crooked probably from multiple breakages. he had tattoos and scars that lined his body. his voice was a rumble as he replied, "name's simon. no need to call me ghost." then held out his hand. you smiled and shook it.

what you thought would have been an easy few tips turned into a pretty hard-core lesson about not just heirloom tomatoes, but all tomatoes. you tried to take notes on your phone, but ended up having to go old school and writing everything down by hand with a notebook and pen that simon gave you.

"no one usually listens this long." he chuckled a little as he took a sip of his water, "likes of johnny get bored after about five minutes." he crossed his strong arms and you felt something quiver inside of you.

you replied, "well, i want to do it right. it's not fair to the plant that i kill it." you tapped the pen against the paper, "so what was that about cherry tomatoes." and you watched him smile a little.

while you didn't have a huge piece of land like simon. but you had enough to build your little garden. it felt weird rewarding as the seasons changed, it grew warmer. and simon came to visit you more often to check on the plants.

johnny made a joke that simon was your shadow now, even referring to him as "the shadow" and you tried not to think too hard about it. simon was just a good friend.

when simon caught wind of this, he had to be a little more forward. over the time you had spent together, he had grown fond for you. so one sunny summer's day, he picked up flowers from the local shop and went to your house.

when you answered the door, you looked at him. and he looked at you. you were in a purple checkered apron with flour on your face.

"what are you doing?" he asked as he looked past you into the house. he could see the mess in the kitchen and the smell of cookies wafting in the air.

you looked at the bouquet of tulips in his hand, "what are you doing?"

"i was bringing you flowers.. to ask you out." "i was making cookies... to also ask you out."

you both looked at one another in the eye before he handed you the flowers and you looked at them then him again. you felt a leap in your chest and felt a heat in your cheek.

in unison you both said, "will you go out with me?"and then both of you smiled at one another. simon gave you that quiet smile he had and you broke into a wide grin. next thing he knew, you were pulling him into the house just as the timer went off for the cookies.

they were your attempt at shortbread cookies in the shape of hearts. but simon thought they were delicious. especially when you sat in his lap and chased every bite of a cookie with a kiss. simon soon learned that he loved your kisses.

"how does it taste?" you asked as you leaned in a little closer.

"perfect." he placed his large, rough hand on your soft cheek and leaned in to kiss you on the lips. you melted a little at the feeling. you felt comfortable with simon.

he was a protective force in your life. he didn't make you feel small, in a bad way. there was an obvious size difference so you were physically smaller. but simon would never make you feel weak. after that, simon was over every day.

he brought vegetables and fruits from the farm. sometimes he'd bring wild flowers from around the property and on weekends eggs for breakfast.

"simon! simon!" during the middle of a warm summer, you called your boyfriend frantically. he instantly was on high alert from your tone. when he asked you what was wrong, you replied, "the tomatoes! they're here!" and as soon as simon hung up the phone, he instantly was getting his boots on to head to your home.

you waved him over when he got there and he saw them. he saw the heirloom tomatoes, his eyes went wide at the sight of them before he pulled you in close to him. you two looked at each other before you leaned up towards simon and kissed him deeply on the lips. you held onto the front of his black t-shirt .

you pressed your face against his chest soon after and said, "thank you so much, simon." you felt heat radiate through you, a deep love for your partner. simon held you close and peppered your face with more kisses.

the kisses got a little deeper and simon held you closer. you smiled against his lips before you pulled away. he looked as red as the tomatoes you were trying to grow.

he swallowed, "as much as i would love to make love to ya out on the grass. i don't think ya want grain stains on everything."he chuckled as he held you face once more in his large hand. he watched you shift a little before you got out of his grasp and took hold of his hand.

once again you were leading him into your home. and simon barely had time to kick off his work boots before you were kissing him passionately on the lips. his arms wrapped around you as he pulled you up against him. your hands in his t-shirt as you both tried to navigate through the small house towards your bedroom.

eventually you pushed you much larger lover onto the bed and he hastily took off his shirt. you had seen him nude before. both in intimate photos he sent, and also when he'd walk out of the shower with just a towel around his waist. but to see his heavy cock one he got his bottoms off and exposed his heavy cock to you.

you licked your lips at the sight of it and got out of your clothes. before you could get onto the bed, he placed a hand on your lower back and pressed his scratchy cheek against your middle. he sighed, visibly relaxing.

"so soft." he said, as he groped your ass. you giggled and combed your fingers through his curled hair. eventually you ended up on top of him in bed. you helped remove his clothes as well, his socks and t-shirt. and you ended up in bed with you. his broad hands mapped your body perfectly, he wanted to feel every inch of warm soft skin.

you looked beautiful when you eventually ended up under him. your head in the pillows and simon was between your legs. his hefty cock was at full attention as he gazed lovingly at your figure. how could a woman so beautiful want to date a man like him? but,he realized a long time ago not to question you. if you wanted to date him, then he'd happily accept your love.

but only if he could give it back in a tenfold. he rubbed his achy cock up against you. it was painfully stiff and he loved the sight of it up against your smaller slit. he was so big compared to you, a fact that turned both of you.

simon had to admit as he sank into you, he liked feeling like a protector. to know that you were safe because of him. that nothing would hurt his darling girl. it made him feel a tug of pride as he slotted himself into your cunt.

the feeling made him shudder for a moment and the stretch made you arched your back a little. he watched your nipples grow hard which only made his cock twitch with lustful want.

he placed his hand over your chest for a moment, but didn't apply much pressure against you. his palm over your heart as he said, "your mine and i'm yours. you, me and all the tomatoes." he smiled down at you before he leaned in further to kiss you square on the lips. his words made you core feel gooey, you felt his love for you in your blood, raising the temperature of it.

he kissed you as he put both hands on your hips and moved against you. he was cautious about hurting you, causing you pain as his cock nudged against you. you moaned against the heated kiss, you shifted a little and he pressed further into you.

when the kiss broke, you looked at one another while the air in the room grew warmer. you felt the heat between your legs as he moved. his gaze was hungry as he moved against you. he admired every inch of skin he could. he couldn't deny it, he never could, but you were the most beautiful woman he ever had the pleasure to love. he wasn't known for being a lady's man, but to know that he had you. he didn't need anyone else.

when perfection was in front of him, he'd never waste you. the pace continued as did the pleasure. the heat between you two as he moved against you. you tightened your legs around him and reached out for him. you were soon chest to chest with simon making sure that he wasn't crushing you.

the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. it would be like crushing a flower, it would break simon. but you soothed any anxiety as you held his face and kissed him passionately with each of his movements.

the pleasure bloomed through both of you as the two of you continued to move against one another. you started to pick up his pace and the kisses became deeper. it felt amazing, you felt like you were on cloud nine thanks to his pleasure. there was something undeniable about him. there was something heated and needy about his movements as you pushed up against him.

"glad i fit." he remarked, "was worried for a moment that she wasn't gonna fit me." he patted your middle for a moment, the action made you squirm and clench around him a little tighter his heart hammered in his chest the more he moved against you. there was a slice of heaven under him and he wanted to make sure his girl felt good.

you giggled a little, "you're not that big. nothing i can't take. i'm strong enough." and let out a sharp moan when simon pressed into you further which made you feel snaps of pleasure in your head.

he chuckled and held onto you a little tighter, he pushed himself further into you and let himself enjoy the sweet, tender feeling of his beloved. he loved you, it was clear from the moment he asked you out. his affection for you only grew with time, he needed you daily. he was constantly around because you made him feel needed and wanted. you were perfect for him.

he kissed you once more and continued his hold on you. he rocked against you sweet cunt and felt the wraps of pleasure in his core. he loved the feeling, being so close to climax with his beloved under him.

you deepened the kiss and threw your arms around his shoulders. he thrusted up into you, his pace steady but not too rough. once again, the idea of hurting you, even by accident, pained him. he never wanted that, he only wanted your sweet moans in his ear and your smiles to brighten up his day.

you two moved against one another, the pleasure continued to course through you. the two of you made love on your creaky bed, but enjoyed each other's gentle company. you tensed up a little bit as you felt the heat of climax was over you. you moaned into the kiss, and quietly said 'i love you' under your breath as orgasm took hold. the thump in your chest made you feel hot all over.

"i love you too.' he said softly as he continued to move against you. you clenched onto him and he loved the feeling of your nails against his skin. he felt extremely hot as he bucked his hips against you. the hammering in his chest only fueled his want for you.

he soon climaxed and felt the shudder through his body. the blossom of heat in his core as he finished inside of you. with a few more heavy thrusts, he slowed his pace to a stop to catch his breath. however that was made hard because you pulled him in for another searing kiss.

you both got under the covers and kissed deeply with one another. you felt connected to him, so close to him. so loving for him. you moaned into the kiss and simon cuddled up against you.

you said i love you to each other many times as you laid comfortable in each other's arms. the love flowed between you two. simon knew and you knew that you'd be together for a long time.

simon looked at you as you laid there comfrotably. you looked like someone special to him. you looked like the future mrs. simon riley.

it was a hot summer day two years later, you had come by to visit simon and found him working away at the blueberry plants on the farm. eventually you got him back inside his home. you moved around the kitchen like it was your own home.

you were giving simon a stern talking to while you got him a glass of water to help cool down. simon just watched you from his spot at the kitchen table.

"and you know what happens if you don't drink water! i don't need you passing out and crows peckin you-", when you turned around you noticed a small box on the table. the glass of watr almost fell out of your hand as he opened it. shock marked your expression and he chuckled.

he took a hold of the velvet box and opened it with a smile on his lips. your scarred, famer's tan having boyfriend with a love for heirloom tomatoes, was proposing to you.

"will you-"

"yes!" you squeaked before you quickly put the glass down and went over to him. he grabbed you and seated you on his lap. you held his face for a moment to look into his brown eyes before you laid a kiss on his lips.

he only pulled away to slip the ring on your finger (it was a big too big, but that could be fixed). you looked at the emerald in the ring and felt tears in your eyes. you kissed him once more.

you had everything, a home, a husband and heirloom tomatoes. <3

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zephyrchama · 11 months ago

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Writing prompt: If MC had been a sheep since they came to the Devildom and then suddenly became human again, would the brothers recognize them? (Under the cut, all 7 brothers, SFW, written in second person.)

Others might have written about this before, it's a fun concept. In the beginning of the manga it's explained that MC appears to be a sheep for reasons. I like to think that they gradually change back and their sheep characteristics slowly become more human, while maintaining sheep-like qualities for a while, but it's more fun to write about if they just. suddenly. change back all at once, ta-da.

Humans sometimes face adverse effects when traversing realms. The unnatural spatial movement has equally unnatural consequences for human bodies, which is why you found yourself in the body of a small pink sheep when meeting the brothers for the first time.

Solomon and Diavolo say it will wear off in time, as you adjust to the Devildom. Your body will return to normal eventually, but they don’t know exactly how long. Its been quite some time now and everyone just accepts that this is how things are. You are a small pink sheep, and you are family.

You expected a gradual transformation - to slowly regain human features over time as you got used to life in the Devildom. That didn’t happen. Day by day nothing changed, until the transformation happened all at once.

Lucifer

Lucifer had seen your photo on the exchange student paperwork months ago. A generic little square image stapled to the application, hardly better than a driver’s license photo. He might have taken your paperwork out of the student council room and put it in his private office desk for safekeeping, or to look from time to time to remind himself you really were human.

He was the first one you thought to tell. A big change like this was surely worth a visit to his room, even if he was busy. You knocked your usual knock. Now that you were human-sized, you could reach the middle of the door, but the lack of hooves meant your knock was quieter. There were several seconds of silence. Maybe he didn’t hear you. You went to knock again, but a familiar gruff voice called out “come in,” from the other side so you reached for the handle.

There were piles of record book and stacks of forms upon the desk, but the eldest brother was still visible from the doorway. As if sensing something was different, he paused mid-writing and looked up. Lucifer was taken aback for a moment but quickly regained his usual composed poker face. You tried to hide a smile. Seeing him surprised like that was a rare occasion.

“I see you’ve finally gotten used to it here. Congratulations.” Maybe it was the soft light inside the House of Lamentation, but Lucifer thought you looked far better in person than in that photo. He put down his pen and crossed his hands under his chin. It almost masked the way he leaned slightly forward to get a better look at you over the large desk. “Do you feel alright?”

You nodded, it was strange to adjust to your old height again but you were glad to be back in your body. “You’re sure you feel fine? Come here,” he commanded.

Sitting next to him as a sheep while he worked had become so natural, yet doing so now as a human made you feel so self conscious. Your eyes wandered around the room, avoiding his gaze until he grabbed your shoulder and said “look at me.”

To you, he was just being overprotective. A routine check up on the exchange student to make sure they’re healthy after a sudden transformation. Maybe being close enough to feel his breath each time he exhaled was also necessary. To Lucifer, it was the time he’d been waiting months for. To see your glossy hair, not just a ball of wool, and study the contours of your face. How smooth your cheeks were and the way you politely kept up an embarrassed smile. Yes, the real deal was much nicer than a photograph.

Mammon

Mammon had no idea who you were, at first. You were sitting on the couch, wasting time while waiting for the next family meal. The front door slammed open loudly and closed with a bang. Mammon finally strolled into the living room after a long evening of make-up lessons at school.

“When’s dinner ready? I’m starvin’!” His boisterous voice made the house a little livelier. “And hey, where’s--”

He stammered when his eyes met yours and his voice faltered back down to a normal indoor volume. “Didn’ know we had someone vistin’. Hmph.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he really this dense? He couldn’t recognize you despite all the time you spend together? You turned around to watch over the back of the couch as Mammon walked to the dining room, then left to go down the hallway that led to your room. Several moments later he was in the kitchen. You could hear voices, but not what was said.

After some time he came meandering back to the living room. With one hand on his hip, he remained standing and leaned against the other couch. He was agitated and impatient, and with no one else around he turned to you.

It must have been five seconds, max, but it felt like you stared at each other for an hour. You pouted, glaring at the idiot who thought you seemed like an oddly familiar and comforting presence. “Who’re ya here to see? If it’s The Great Mammon, I’m a busy guy. I can’t just stand around. WIthout compensation, I’m leavin’.”

“Mammon,” you said. Just one word. You sounded hurt. It made his heart skip a beat, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Huh? What’d you say?” He heard you loud and clear. He just wanted you to speak again, to hear your voice once more and confirm he wasn’t imagining things.

Of all the ways you imagined showing off your human body to him, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe you were wrong for expecting him to recognize you no matter what, but just like him you would never admit that.

“Oh my gosh, you’re a fool! Here’s your ‘compensation!’” Swiftly, you launched a decorative cushion square at his stomach. Your strike is nothing to him, but you landed an emotional blow when you went to storm off.

He grabbed your wrist before you got out of arm’s reach. Forcefully at first, but quickly realized he had to loosen up to avoid hurting you. “Wh- huh? Is that you? Why didn’t you say anything!? When did this happen?”

Walking away was futile as Mammon was rooted to the spot. “That’s really you, right? This ain’t a joke?”

He pulled you in towards him and spun you around to look at your face. You were mad and upset and relieved that he stopped you and embarrassed at having so many emotions at once. He finally knew, you're his human, alright.

Leviathan

It took a while for things to click for Leviathan.

He first saw you from afar on campus. He wanted to steer clear from you., like with every other student. Though he did do a double-take and stare.

He’d never seen you (well, proper human you) around before, and you looked just like the customizable characters you always created in his games. Same hair style, same eyes, same sense of style. His P2 was real. It was uncanny and he couldn’t wait to tell you all about seeing your player character wandering around campus.

That’s when he realized he hadn’t seen you all day. The sheep you. You were always easy to find due to being bogarted by his flashy brothers. You were one of the few to casually greet him every day as assurance he was welcome at RAD. You were human, and humans weren’t sheep. Didn’t Lucifer say something about that when you first arrived? Oh.

When Leviathan didn’t show up to classes after lunch you went looking for him. It was a tough quest. He wasn’t in any of the usual hiding places and wasn’t answering his DDD. He really didn’t want to see you. Or, well, he really did, but clearly wasn’t prepared to. You finally found him on a bench, shrouded by overgrown tree branches and isolated far on the outskirts of RAD’s campus.

Low muttering gave away his hiding space, unintelligible as he was biting down hard on his thumbnail while he raved. His hair was a tousled mess and from time to time he’d jump up to flail or shake his head.

“Lev-”

You tried to greet him and got met with a glorious, high-pitched shriek. You pushed on anyway.

“Levi! I’ve been looking for you. Notice anything different today?”

“You! Y-y-y-youuu!!” He could not look you in the eye, or look at you at all, but your familiar voice made everything clear. It took some time for him to speak again.  ”You sat in my bed! You sat in my lap!” He referenced all the times you’d stay up late gaming with him. He never objected to that before. “You! You did all that! How could you?”

 ”I… thought we were friends?” ”Well I didn’t know you looked like that!”

All the wholesome memories Levi had of you two bonding, demon and sheep, suddenly changed. No longer were you a cute fuzzball sitting on his legs or snug against him like a plush while he slept. You were a cute human, with human features, sitting between his legs and being held against him in bed. Overnight you went from essentially a security plush to a real person, and he was having trouble adjusting.

“You lied to me! Aagh!” He kicked his legs and pulled at his hair in anxious frustration, his thoughts branching in dozens of conflicting paths at once, so you did the only thing you knew to calm him. A big hug.

He froze right up. You stubbornly told him “I’m still me, you know.”

“But you look…” For the first time he tried looking right at you, but all you noticed was the intense blush across his face. It made you smile.

Satan

Great Detective Satan picked up on your change quickly. It wasn’t hard to deduce for anyone who paid close attention to mysteries, like he did.

You hadn’t asked for any help that morning reaching for things high up. You didn’t ask anyone to carry your heavy school books. Most obviously, you were sitting in the dining room enjoying a hearty piece of toast when he also sat down to eat breakfast. Even though he didn’t physically recognize you, who else would be fearlessly sitting at the House of Lamentation’s breakfast table and happily greeting the Avatar of Wrath?

Rather than the scrambled eggs, Satan was most interested in you. He didn’t hide the way he stared. “You look different.” Slowly, eyes never wavering, he took the chair beside you.  ”Oh yeah! Check it out, I changed back!” You went to stand up and show off, but first needed to wipe the crumbs off your face. Too bad the napkin just slid off your lap and onto the floor. “Ah, hold on, I’ll show you in a sec. It’ll be worth it.” You didn’t want to look sloppy on your first day as a human again, and although hands were easier to eat with than hooves, you had prioritized munching on delicious breakfast food over eating cleanly. Without another clean napkin in arm’s reach, you went to pick up what had fallen.

“Allow me.” Napkin unfolded, Satan leaned in close. Before you could acknowledge his offer he had a hand wrapped around your chin. The heat of his fingers could be felt on your lips through the cloth. He spent an unnecessarily long time tracing the contours around your mouth. A cleaning this thorough would surely ward crumbs off your face for at least a week.

A full minute later, Satan was satisfied and leaned back in his own chair. He didn’t stop staring though. You gave a heartfelt, “thanks! Now let me show you,” and stood up to twirl.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus recognized you right away. He was the only one not taken aback, and was thrilled to see you returned to full glory. “You look just like your socials!”

Not one to miss out on trends, Asmodeus had signed up for a few human realm social media sites. He considered it to be the cultural exchange aspect of your exchange program. On particularly slow evenings he’d even scroll through several years of your image posts and save the cutest ones. Asmodeus was very well acquainted with both your human and sheep looks.

“Do you have anything to wear other than your uniform? We really should trim your hair, too. That didn’t stop growing while you were a sheep, huh?” He was immediately all over you, twirling your hair in his long fingers while circling like a predator locked on to its prey.

“Oh really?” You hadn’t noticed your hair being overly long. You were just happy to be back to normal. “Yeah I’ve got plenty of clothes, but my hair? Are there, like, demon barbers around here? Can you help?”

“Leave it to me! And your nails!” His hand found yours and soon your fingers were entwined. He lifted them up, cheerily exclaiming “how about matching with me?” as he pulled you towards his room. It was hard to keep up with him, but at least you stood a chance now unlike before in that small body. He noticed, and with a cheeky grin turned to ask “you're not still having trouble? I’ll carry you, you know. And when you need another trim, you come to me first.”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub lucked out. He came into the dining hall for the most important meal of the day, just in time to see you twirl for Satan, proclaiming “I’m back!”

Your voice was the same, and you smelled the same as ever. He let out an astonished “woah” while taking the seat across from you. This new form was much better than the sheep one. His fears of accidentally hurting you with too much strength somewhat abated. Though, in his eyes you were still tiny.

“Morning!” you greeted. “Notice anything new?” ”Boy, do I.” Through a mouthful of food, he asked “how did this happen?” 

“Dunno, it must have happened overnight. I just woke up and bam.” You flashed a pair of finger guns at Beel and he laughed.

After breakfast, you two became alone in the dining room. You piled up the dirty dishes and Beelzebub carried them into the kitchen as you followed behind, saying “we better hurry, I didn’t realize it was this late already.”

“Yeah.” He placed everything in the sink, then turned to face you. He held out his arms. “Ready to go?”

Carrying you to school appears to have become a habit. Beel didn’t even hesitate to gently lift you up like you were weightless. It was an everyday occurrence when you were a sheep. But back in your old body with longer legs, having his arm wrap around your waist without a layer of thick wool to cushion you, things felt different. “Y’know, I might be able to walk to school today.”

“Hm?” Beelzebub took a moment to process this. Like he had completely forgotten you got your body back in that short span of time. “Oh! Sorry. Force of habit.” Almost dejectedly, he crouched to set you back on the ground. You reached around to grab his shoulders anyway.

“Well, I never said you had to let go.”

Belphegor

Belphegor thought he was still sleeping. Your human figure was a familiar sight he had seen multiple times. It was how you manifested in your dreams, after all. Sometimes when you napped together he would pick up glimpses of your dreams. On this day he had made it to RAD with time to spare and was dozing off in his seat when you arrived.

Unreservedly, he dragged himself several feet over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder right next to your ear. “Hey.” This was a dream anyway, might as well enjoy it.

“Belphie, are you still asleep?” you asked. Physical contact wasn’t so bad, but it got embarrassing in public like this. With a futile shake you tried to rouse him. “Look! Did you notice? I’m not a sheep anymore!”

“Mm, yeah. You’re you.” Avoiding the lights, he buried his eyes in your neck, wishing it was a little darker. He liked you like this. But if this was a dream, why did the light bother him? Why was he still so tired? “Is it… Hm? What time is it?”

“Time for class to start soon. If you fall asleep again Lucifer is gonna kick your butt. Wake up.” You roughly ruffled his hair, causing him to groan and cling to your waist tighter. It did succeed in getting him to raise his head, at least.

After a sleepy pause, Belphegor seemed to grasp his surroundings. He squinted and leaned back, sizing you up. You couldn't tell if he was waking up or preparing to slouch down again until he spoke. “You really changed back? For real?”

“Yep!”

“Heh, good for you.” He pat your sides and let go. It tickled a little. Now, while you were distracted, was his turn to ruffle your hair. Payback disguised as playful praise.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me drabble #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #sfw fanfic #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me fluff #this is my first time doing anything like this and im really embarassed but IM DOIN IT IM MAKIN A POST HNNGH #if this gets any notes i will consider it a massive success. if anyone so much as looks at this post i will celebrate. i am terrified woo #look at all the fancy formatting options there are in the post editor now wow #is that enough tags. does that issue with only the first 5 tags working still exist. ehh.

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girlsworldillusion · 29 days ago

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Ocean's Tear

Aemond x Siren!Reader

Summary: At first it was just curiosity. There was something about the human that, for the first time in longer than you could remember, piqued your interest.

Captain Targaryen, they called him.

It seemed like just a silly curiosity. But you quickly realize that your little curiosity turns into something much worse.

Of all the terribly reckless things you could do, you had chosen one of the most dangerous and destructive:

Taking an interest in a human.

Rated: M +18

Warnings: interspecies relationships, mentions of blood and death, dark themes.

Word account: 9k

Author's note: This story was divided into two parts. I'll be posting the final act soon, if it gets a good reception. Happy reading!

At first it was just curiosity.

There was something about the human that, for the first time in longer than you could remember, piqued your interest.

That something could be many things, of course, and at first you thought it was just his unusual hair color, a singularity that made him stand out from the rest like a sore thumb.

Despite having seen many different humans throughout your life, you didn't remember ever seeing one with hair like his. As far as you knew, only aged humans had hair that color. But the man you began to observe closely didn't seem aged. Quite the opposite. His tall, strong physique indicated that he was a very healthy adult man of, if your knowledge of the human race was anything to go by, thirty years old at most. And yet, the strands of his hair were as light as the pure white moon that shone above the ocean.

But there was another singularity about the man. He always wore a damn leather eye patch on the left side of his face. When you first saw this, you laughed in derision at how stereotypical the human was being. What? A ship captain wearing an eyepatch? So predictable. All that was missing was a hook in his hand and a wooden leg to complete the standard pirate look.

It should have been ridiculous, at the very least. Except it wasn't.

It was actually embarrassing how fascinating you found the dark contrast of the leather with the silver strands that were always coming loose from his ponytail.

Honestly, it was worrying how quickly you were becoming interested in this strange human.

But, the days passed and, regardless of how peculiar those details about him were, that wasn't the only thing that made you pay so much attention to the man.

The way he behaved was also different from the others. Unlike the loud and obnoxious humans you were used to encountering while sailing these seas, this man walked the deck with his head held high and an indifferent expression, a cigarette lazily held between his fingers, telling each of the crew members what to do in a firm and authoritative manner, although he never had to raise his voice at any time.

Captain Targaryen, they called him. He was always calm, always in control, silent most of the time - as if he were directly responsible for inspiring and maintaining order around him. It was immediately clear to you why he was the captain of this ship. Just as it was also clear that this human was more fortunate than others you had seen. Not only did his posture and manner reveal his high-class upbringing, but also his ship which, despite keeping its simple dark tones and overall understated appearance, was much larger and much better preserved than those that normally visited this area of the ocean.

You didn't know who this man was, but he certainly wasn't just anyone.

Despite all this, he was still a human, and even though he had caught your attention for reasons that not even you could fully understand, you knew from the beginning that you shouldn't entertain such curiosity. Humans were cunning and treacherous little things, regardless of their appearance. And even if such a notion was irrelevant (it wasn't), he wouldn't last long anyway. Not here. If you had noticed the ship's approach and, especially, the presence of the various crew members inside it, your sisters had too. It was only a matter of time now. The days of not only this man, but everyone under his command, were numbered.

You shouldn't entertain your curiosity.

But, despite all your rules, tact, and minimal capacity for good judgment, you found yourself getting closer and closer to the human's vessel.

Surprisingly, there was still some sense left in you, and you chose to do this always at night, when it would be easier to keep yourself hidden from unwanted eyes.

That was the reason, of course. Not the fact that it was at night that the man came out on deck to take a breather, when his crew was already asleep. Every night, without exception, punctual as clockwork.

Fuck. You are such an idiot.

A pair of large eyes peer through the gentle rippling of the water. Submerged up to your nose, you keep cautiously away (though closer than you were last night, and the night before, and the night before that... - tsk, idiot, idiot). The length of your long tail sways below the surface, deceptively delicate fins rippling in anticipation, tense and restless.

He lights a cigarette.

Your sensitive nose wrinkles in response to the disgusting and very human habit, but you barely blink as you watch him raise the thing to his lips. He holds it there until the tip burns an abrasive shade of red, staring at the dark, endless horizon ahead, the ship beneath his feet rocking rhythmically with the waves lapping at its sides. He pulls his fingers away after a few seconds to breathe in a cloud of smoke, and you swear you can taste the toxic flavor of tobacco even from where you stand. The thought doesn’t bother you as much as it should. The chilly night wind blows a few loose strands in front of his face, the rest of his silver hair tied back in a messy bun.

His posture during the day is always the same; confident and calm. He’s the picture of composure most of the time. But here, at night, smoking his disgusting cigarette in deep, silent contemplation, he almost always looks...sad. As if the burden weighs heavily on his shoulders and this is the only time he can leave small visible cracks in his normally impenetrable countenance.

Lonely. He looks lonely.

Maybe he's not so different from you after all.

Your tail fin shakes a little harder, the fingers on your hands flexing agitatedly. What was with this human, anyway? Why were you wasting your time here, trying to understand his fragile and insignificant human feelings when the time for hunting had obviously not even begun? This kind of behavior was not common in your species. Of course, if any of your sisters showed up you could just say that you were observing your prey, getting to know its weak points better for when the time came to attack.

But was that really what you were doing?

The human rests his elbows and leans his body on the edge of the ship, once again bringing the cigarette to his lips. His strong forearms are exposed by the rolled-up sleeve of his black shirt, showing off a pale ivory complexion, long and prominent veins along its length. He is like a carefully crafted statue, his body agile and tall, powerful and elegant.

He tilts his face gently and blinks slowly and vaguely. You recognize that this is the worst moment to realize that from where you are standing you can't tell the exact shade of his eye - apparently his only good eye, in fact. The thought leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

You want to know what color his eye is.

"Gods, what am I doing?" You mutter sullenly as you sink gently, pushing your body closer to the ship with a flick of your tail. Despite your obvious and undeniable propensity for making reckless choices, your movements are carefully calculated, using the waves and the blind spots of the moonlight to cover any suspicious tracks.

You are now as close to the human vessel as you have ever been - at least outside of a context other than exclusively for attack and feeding. If you swing your tail enough you might even touch the side of the ship, the human hovering a few feet above you. Your hands are strangely trembling beneath the surface, nervous and anxious, and you flex your fingers to contain your stupid reaction, feeling the sharp tips of your claws in contact with the soft palms.

Your discretion is rewarded with the human's seemingly complete ignorance, who remains in the same position as before, still smoking and staring at the choppy waves, oblivious to your presence. You sigh softly, a sound of relief, letting your eyes travel over the sharp, clear lines of his masculine face.

The night is dark, cloudy, with only the moonlight and a few lights from the human vessel itself illuminating the surroundings. But your eyes are capable, much more capable than a human's, made to see perfectly underwater and stalk your prey with skill, and you part your lips when you clearly realize that his eye is blue. As blue as the sea is near the coast, where the waves shine with a crystalline and mesmerizing prism, like ethereal stained glass.

As bright as...

The man exhales another mouthful of that intoxicating smoke into the humid night air, but you barely blink where you stand. Your fingers instinctively close around the stone attached to the necklace floating in front of your breasts. The blue gem is cold against your fingertips, but you know its power and magic burn like burning embers.

You’re so distracted that you barely notice the significance of the human’s next move, your eyes only half noticing his hand rising to his face. You watch without really seeing as he removes the eye patch from his face, vaguely returning to the present as you think of the strange break in routine that this act has made - he had never removed the eye patch during the nights you had been watching.

He would go out, smoke that horrible cigarette without any rush while looking out at the endless sea, throw the toxic stuff on the floor when he was done and extinguish the ember with a drag of his boot before entering the ship to sleep. Every night, religiously.

Any thoughts of routine evaporate from your mind when the leather finally comes off his face, caught between the captain’s fingers as he lowers his hand. Your lips part and your eyes widen, your tail freezes below the surface for a few seconds.

There is a stone where his eye should be. A blue stone. A stone you would recognize anywhere. Your own blue gem seems to warm between your fingers in response, glowing subtly as if sensing the presence of a twin stone.

“W-what...but - how?” You whisper, confused and alarmed. How could this human have something like this? Not even all sirens had such a stone. You yourself only managed to find yours a few years ago.

The Ocean's Tear, as the stone was known to your kin, was an extremely rare and nearly impossible to find relic, treasured by all sirens for its power to grant them specific ‘gifts’. The gifts vary from individual to individual, however. While some could heal themselves from any harm, some could hear the thoughts of others as if they were their own, others could persuade any living creature to do what they wanted. The possibilities go on and on.

You, after decades of tireless searching, had found your gem in a remote corner of the ocean, having gone through thirst, hunger and almost losing your own life when facing a relentless pod of hungry orcas that chased you at some point towards the end of the journey. It was an exhausting search and almost cost you more than you were willing to give, but it was all worth it when you finally touched your own 'ocean's tear'. You remember how the jewel warmed slightly and sparkled like countless bright diamond points between your trembling fingers, reacting instantly to your touch, as if it had also been waiting for this moment all its life - waiting for you all its life.

You cried that day, for the first time.

Of course, after days and days of the gem hanging proudly around your neck and nothing different happening, you started to get suspicious. Days turned into months and months stretched into years and you didn't see any change in your body; no psychic gifts, no persuasive power over sea creatures or self-healing abilities. You were still just you, the same as always.

It was frustrating and humiliating.

But you couldn't stop wearing the jewel, after all it was still the 'ocean's tear'. Any siren who had it would automatically gain the silent respect of others. You were someone capable with this stone. With it, you were important. Someone wise and strong enough to seek and find the impossible. You were proud to show off your relic - even if it was useless in the end.

The bad mood was constantly present with you since then. Disappointed, but strangely not surprised. Of course this would happen to you; of course you would swim tirelessly across the seven seas in search of the jewel of jewels and it simply wouldn't work for you. That's the kind of karma that haunts you.

You had almost died to conquer the impossible only to find out that the impossible didn't want you.

And now this human dares to flaunt the impossible as if it were something anyone could have?

As if it were something that some random human who thinks he knows the ocean could claim for himself just because he has a ship and other stupid little humans to put inside it?

The stone wouldn't do anything for him, you know. The gem only reacts to sirens, without exception. This human dared to steal something that belongs to your species, only for the artifact to be absolutely wasted in the end. In this human's hands the jewel was just a cold, shiny stone. Beautiful and exotic, no doubt, but useless.

(But wasn't it also useless in your hands?)

You snarl at your own incriminating thought, narrowing your eyes to slits as you watch the human tilt his face - oblivious to the dangerous and highly emotional turmoil of a supposedly non-existent creature right next to him. The moonlight gloriously intensifies the smooth complexion of his handsome face, the aristocratic line of his nose, the long silver strands fluttering in the wind. His good eye and the damned stolen jewel, dark as the deep waters of the sea.

The instant thought that this human, selfish and cruel as he is, could be as deserving (or undeserving, in this case) as you of something as pure and sacred as the ocean's tear, is so offensive that it is physically nauseating. How could he have something that you have spent decades of your life searching for? Something that countless of your sisters would never even have the privilege of seeing, much less having for themselves? He does not deserve this.

Your teeth grind, the sharp canines piercing the inside of your mouth until you taste your own blood.

He's the enemy. No matter how interesting and handsome you find him, the stone (an heirloom of your people, not his) that he sports embedded in his face is just more proof of how dirty and morally corrupt humans are - something that, admittedly, you have known all along.

He's a thief. A sneaky usurper.

Of all the terribly reckless things you could do, you had chosen one of the most dangerous and destructive. Take an interest in a human. And you know it. From the human race, only the worst is expected, really. You just hated that this human in question was so fascinating.

"How did you get this?"

Your own grumpy voice echoes in the silence of the night, scaring not only the human on the ship, but yourself as well. The sound is a bubbling rustle of words, hoarse around the edges and almost brittle from disuse, rarely having been used for conversational purposes. But it is audible enough to catch the human's attention. Your eyes widen, any animosity and anger instantly forgotten in the shock of your complete and utter lack of control. The man turns his head in the direction of your voice, quick as a whip, at exactly the same moment that you react and dive.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot!" You repeat the mantra, swimming until you are at a safe depth.

The question had simply slipped through your lips without you being able to stop it, but you knew how much you had screwed up.

Looking up, distressed and uncertain, you see through the ripples of the water that the human is staring intently at the sea, his one eye sliding from one corner to the other - trying to find the source of the voice he heard. The darkness of the night is on your favor and you know he can't see anything but foam and the dark waves, no matter how hard he tries. You hope he quickly comes to the most logical conclusion for this situation; that he didn't hear what he thinks he heard. It was just his own mind playing tricks on him. Maybe he blames it on tiredness and sleep, or the lack of it.

But as he stands there, brows furrowed and serious eye, stubbornly searching for something that even he himself wouldn't know what, something whispers to you that he won't just give up.

"Hello?" He asks in a thick, drawling tone, tired you notice, once again leaning slightly on the side of the ship to better see the waters below. When no sound other than the waves of the sea is heard, he hums thoughtfully for a moment, almost imperceptibly softening his frown to something more neutral and calm. "It's okay. I know you're there. It's not the first time I feel like I'm being watched, to be honest." His voice is the same as you remember; steady, controlled, a low timbre that’s almost husky around the edges. You would be delighted by it, as you have been many times before, if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack, your cheeks darkening in embarrassment at the confirmation that he’d somehow felt your presence this whole time.

Gods, a human was embarrassing you. What had you come to?

"But this is the first time you've said anything. I have to say that you surprised me tonight, since I assumed we'd be playing this game for a while longer." He continues, a vaguely playful quirk in his drawl, adjusting his body so that he's leaning sideways on the deck and bringing what's left of his cigarette to lips again. Your heart pounds violently in your chest, your tail fin rattling restlessly with your anxiety.

You don't know why you're still here.

He puffs out his swirling cloud of smoke, looking completely at ease and at ease with the situation - although he's heard a mysterious, feminine voice ring out in the middle of the night, in one of the most dangerous parts of the entire ocean, in a place where he logically knows there no be any women. But he remains calm. Unlike you, who have everything but control over yourself at this moment. And, once again, you feel diminished by this human.

He behaves in the opposite direction of what you're used to from human behavior. He confuses and intrigues you, awakening feelings you never imagined you had for someone of his kind.

Here you were, undeniably afraid of being caught, but unable to simply swin away and leave him behind. All because some random human had made you interested in him. Turned you into a soft thing, fascinated by unusual hair colors and eye patches. Watching a lesser creature constantly, attentively and almost obsessively, like a damn stalker would - and not even in the sense you normally watch humans; in the context of predator and prey. With each passing day it became more evident that you were not planning to eat this human.

It was just you, interested in him.

For the first time in your long life, you don't know what you're doing. He messes with the natural order of things and you don't know what to do.

The world has grown old. But not you, nor any of your many sisters. The world has grown old, but it has always been the same to you. There has always been an order to follow. You have been here for longer than you can remember, hidden beneath the waves while the men above came and went, building and destroying everything around them. You have watched them grow into selfish, greedy creatures, thirsting for a dominion over the world they are unable to maintain. Blind to the fact that there are other forms of life besides their own, men see themselves as better and more important, hunting and killing without scruple or consideration those they consider inferior to them. Without remorse.

But it is here, in the far corners of the ocean, that they find retribution for their acts of greed.

Men take everything. But here, shadowed by legends and tales, the sirens feed on men; on proud sailors roaming the vast blue sea, their noses in the air and their egos throbbing that nothing could harm them.

You were the men's reckoning. That was all. This was the natural order of things.

The time for the men on this ship, including their fascinating captain, was approaching, and there was absolutely nothing you could do to prevent such a fate. You shouldn’t entertain mixed feelings for him. You shouldn’t. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t do anything against an entire horde of sirens that would inevitably be here soon. Cultivating any feelings wouldn’t do him any good, much less you.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to show up yet. You’ve already given me the proof I needed to know that I’m not insane, and I appreciate that.” He continues his monologue above the surface, unfazed by the lack of response, a small, amused tug at the corner of his pink lips. Below the waters you almost snort, thinking that he definitely shouldn’t be grateful for that. Regardless of whether you decided to show up or not, he would still be considered, at the very least, ‘insane’ by anyone who heard this story later.

His words, however, bring heat to your stomach, rising until it darkens your cheeks.

The Captain Targaryen had graced you with fine words, admittedly, simple as they were, and perhaps there was some truth to them. He had always been different, after all; he lacked the common harshness and cruelty with which captains tended to lead their crews. He had a fair amount of coldness in his speech, true, and his humor was acidic and even dark at times. But he did not seem cruel. He commanded with a firm hand, yes, but also with respect.

Perhaps, deep down, he meant well.

But there was still that voice that screamed that his nature would inevitably betray him. He was human, after all. It was in his nature to be seduced by his own greed and ambition. You only wondered how long it would be before the tide turned and he showed his true colors.

But even knowing all this, you find yourself unable to stop yourself from making the next monumental mistake.

The man sighs wearily one last time, betraying his indifferent facade, the cigarette clutched between his fingers falling to the floor of the deck, just waiting for the usual drag of the sole of his boot. He looks a little longer at the dark waves below, his neutral expression not wavering much, but there is that same glint that screams loneliness flickering discreetly in his blue gaze - the stolen stone singing to you from the other side. He would leave.

Before you think, you are acting.

In your seriously questionable logic, you know that nothing has really changed around you. But in your body powered purely by adrenaline and poor choices, you feel as if even the waves have calmed in response to your action. The world stands still as you push yourself to the surface with a rhythmic undulation of your tail, webbed fingers moving in unison. Even the wind seems to have died down; all you can hear is your blood rushing in your ears. Deep in your chest, something pulls, twists, hurts — sings —

Your head slowly emerges from the water.

It takes a few seconds for the Captain’s gaze to settle on you, and you could have used that time to try to make amends for your rash decision, but you choose not to move. And when he looks at you, his indifferent expression finally cracking to reveal a single wide eye and lips parted to gasp a startled sound and you finely sketch a reaction other than silent hysteria. A shy smile stretches your plush lips as you notices his expression, despite how seriously damaged your nerves are — perhaps irreparably. You did this, you broke that perfect calm of his.

Despite your silent victory, your large, narrow-pupiled eyes stare back at him with apprehension, your heart racing in your chest and your breathing ragged. There’s a moment when neither of you make a move, both frozen in place, unsure of what the hell to do with the surreal scene unfolding right in front of you.

It feels like an eternity in the void before you’re swallowing the uncomfortable lump that’s permanently lodged in your throat, daring to swim in hesitant jerks closer to the vessel.

He watches you with unwavering focus, a little more composed, but still open-mouthed. His steps stagger slightly, but eventually he too makes his way toward the lower part of the ship, where you’re swimming.

You stop when you reach the raised boarding platform, the human slowly approaching from the other side, never taking his eye off you, as if afraid to blink and you’ll disappear. He stops walking when you raise a hand, blinking in surprise at the elastic, almost transparent membrane between your spread fingers.

Somehow he quickly understands what you want, shaking his head once to signal that he won’t go any further from that point. With that, you prop your elbows on the edge of the platform, lifting yourself just a few inches above the surface, the heavy strands slick on your head and saltwater running down your cheeks to drip from the tip of your chin, the bridge of your nose, and the arch of your lips.

“I...fuck, what the hell was in that cigarette anyway?” He gasps and crouches awkwardly, looking away at the length of your long tail swaying beneath the waves, lush fins undulating languidly like a delicate wet veil in the wind. He takes in every last detail of you with absolute focus, leaving you as embarrassed as you're flattered — but mostly, hyper-aware of yourself. But you force yourself to relax, trying to imagine yourself through his gaze.

The countless shiny scales all over your tail range from an endless expanse of onyx to purple at some angles, gradually lightening to the side fins and the end of your tail, tinged with a striking shade of translucent lilac. The purple scales were also dotted softly all over your body; rising in a perfect gradient from the sides of your waist until disappearing into the soft cream of your skin, on the undersides and sides of your forearms and elbows, delicately covering the soft, discreet mounds of your breasts and marking the entire line of your spine.

There is a discreet dusting on the tops of your cheeks, a subtle kaleidoscope of purple and soft pink that transforms into small, bright freckles as your emotions rise - as they are right now. Your full, pink lips hide almost normal teeth, except for the dangerously sharp canines and incisors. Long, thick eyelashes over a pair of large, expressive eyes with slitted pupils like a cat's. Your hair waves around the shoulders, floating beneath the surface of the water in a slow dance, partially hiding the three small lines that mark the gills on either side of your neck. Your hands, though small and seemingly delicate, are adorned with long, sharp claws, as dark as the darkest part of the ocean, the thin translucent membrane between your fingers much stronger than it looks.

It's unnerving how insecure he makes you with his prolonged silence, just looking at every inch of you with his bright eye and parted lips.

You know you're beautiful. If there's any truth to the many tales about your species, it's the undeniably seductive appeal of your appearance. Deadly beauty, the tales say. It's your greatest hunting trick, after all. But under the weight of that watchful gaze, you find yourself unable to escape the clutches of insecurity. What if he didn't find your colors appealing? It's true that your scales aren't as vibrant and colorful as some of your sisters. Your tones are more muted and simple compared to the bright and open ones of your distant relatives. Maybe he found you...too dark?

And why is this human's opinion so important to you?

You huff and straighten up until your shoulders are completely out of the water, the sapphire pendant floating in front of your chest. Your expression takes on notes of embarrassed annoyance, the small freckles on your cheeks and the bridge of your nose shimmering subtly. The human drinks in your reaction attentively, not understanding what they mean, but undeniably fascinated by them.

"You're...holy shit...this is a dream, right? It can't be real. You can't be real." He mutters lazily, voice slurred and thick, wide hands flexing at his sides in two tense fists, the night wind mussing the moon-like strands of his hair. "I knew there was something out there all along, but this...you..." he shakes his head in denial before continuing, "nothing as completely perfect as you can be real."

Oh. The dusting of color on your cheeks deepens and you look away, uncomfortable with the stupid shiver in your belly at the human’s words. Why did he have to be so rudely blunt? You blink the salty sea water out of your eyes a few times before looking back up at him from beneath your lashes, feigning an indifference you don’t feel. Rude, definitely. But, gods, such a handsome rude. His sharp features are as delicate in some ways as they are rough in others. A man, undeniably. The lights from the ship illuminate his striking features, highlighting skin as smooth and pale as the sand on the clearest beach.

Except for one detail.

The flickering yellow of the artificial lights only intensifies the depth of a grotesque scar across that false eye. Your eyes narrow slightly, following the rough, jagged line of the cut that runs from the middle of his forehead down his cheekbone, ending just inches above the corner of his lip. A raw, deep cut, a wound that certainly caused him a lot of pain - perhaps it still does. A scar like that indicates a trauma that cannot be easily overcome after all.

Did he get it while he was behind the ocean's tear?

The thought inevitably brings you back to what was the trigger for this whole colossal mistake, making you quickly focus on the blue stone in his left eye while trying to ignore the discomfort of seeing such a comprehensive wound on this human.

"How..." You rasp, pushing the hoarseness out of your normally melodic timbre, even though your tongue feels uncomfortable inside your mouth and your throat scratches from being used after so much time in silence. The man looks at you with disturbing focus, however, his gaze lazy and bright, his lips slightly parted, as if he were listening to the most enchanting and pure sound of all. "How did you get that?" You point a finger at the stone when you manage to say the words, direct and honest, leaving no room for confusion.

He blinks once.

"Uh, this?" He extends two fingers to the stone in question, tapping its cool surface twice, a slight tug of amusement on his lips. “I found this a while back when diving near a reef. Shinier than anything I've ever seen.” He sounds almost proud as he drawls, though he shrugs at the end — as if the accomplishment isn’t all that big of a deal after all.

Your fascination with the human is eclipsed by the blinding wave of irritation and humiliation that rushes through your veins at the sudden words. What the hell does he mean, ‘found this a while back’? As if the fucking ocean's tear is something a stupid human could just stumble upon by accident? Near a reef, of all places! As if something so inexplicably valuable could be so easily discoverable?

Fuck, as if you didn't literally almost die because of that!

What were the gods doing to you, anyway? What kind of cruel joke was this? How much more would you have to be humiliated by this human before you finally snapped and killed him?

“Liar.” You hiss slowly through your dangerous teeth, refusing to believe this lame version of the story. Your eyes narrow and your nose furrows a fraction, along with your eyebrows. Beneath the surface of the water your tail jerks restlessly, creating a visible ripple in the waves around you. The human, to your silent satisfaction, seems to have some sense after all and notices that something has changed in you. His posture, once reverent and curious, is now more alert and cautious, though he doesn’t pull away immediately. His shoulders roll slowly beneath the shirt and his jaw tenses once before he extends his open hands to you in what should be a reassuring gesture.

"Hey, it's okay..." His voice is lower now, almost a whisper, and it's embarrassing how his calm tone has an effect on you, making you almost instantly relax your fingers clenched into tight fists that you barely noticed you were holding. He remains crouched for a few seconds, but shrugs his shoulders and arches his back a little, as if he wanted to make himself smaller for you. Less threatening. You almost burst out laughing at the sheer silliness of it.

This human wouldn't be a threat to you even if he were at his full height - which you admittedly agree is well above any human you've ever met. Even watching from afar all these nights, it was clear to you that his size surpassed yours in almost every way. Your upper half, of course. He was wide and tall where you were seemingly delicate and fragile. Except for your tail. At its full length you would be much taller than him.

Yes, you may seem delicate overall, but that is just another deceptive hunting device, a feminine appeal that screams fragility and seduction, luring your prey until it is too late for them.

You are anything but weak, and no matter what, he is still human. His strength, as great as it may be, would still be nothing compared to yours. One move, right now, and he would be dead. If you really wanted this, it would be over before he even realized what had happened.

You could wrap your fingers around his ankle and pull him into the dark waters; it would take just the right amount of pressure and speed and he would hit his head on the deck as he fell, probably dying instantly from the blow. But even if he survived that, his end would come quickly beneath the cruel waves of the ocean. Whether from the inevitable loss of oxygen, or the absurd pressure as you pulled him under, or even from the deadly claws you would sink into the fragile flesh of his human body. Or even your fangs, long and sharp as needles as they slice into the pale softness of his throat, draining the life out of him as he gurgle and choke on blood and salt water.

There were at least ten ways you could kill this human right here and now, and you wouldn’t even have to think about it. It would be natural, you’ve done it before. If you wanted to, he’d already be dead.

But…

You don’t want to.

And that’s why you don’t laugh at his attempt to calm you down. You don’t laugh because it’s not funny. There’s no humor in the feeling of mourning in your chest for that instinctive, natural part that seems to have laid down and died inside you. There’s no hunger, no thirst, no desire to make him pay for humanity’s selfish, cruel acts. There’s no predator and prey tonight.

You blink away the sting of tears wanting to form, tense expression softening to something almost melancholic, fins flicking slowly beneath the water. By the seas, you wouldn't cry in front of this human. It would be the height of your humiliation.

"What I said is true, I swear." He continues his soothing murmur, slowly lowering his palms, looking straight into your eyes with such interest and focus that you feel as if it were just the two of you in the world. What a foolish thought. "I actually found the stone by accident. It was just a dive like any other, nothing special. And then it was there. So bright that even hidden under the sand I could see it perfectly." He smiles a little at the memory, reciting the facts calmly and carefully, obviously wanting to avoid angering you again. "It doesn't shine like it used to though, now it looks more like a dead flame or something. I don't think it belongs in the world outside the sea." A tired sigh escapes his lips at the end, his expression almost disappointed - even though he's trying for a reassuring smile.

You snort.

"Of course it isn't. But that's what you humans do, after all. Always taking what doesn't belong to you." You recite the words in a disapproving tone that doesn’t carry as much hate as it should. Not for him, at least.

He looks at you with parted lips and furrowed eyebrows, forearms resting on his knees as he thinks about what you just said.

“Yes. I suppose so.” He murmurs after what feels like a lifetime, exhaling through his nose.

There’s silence between the two of you after that, nothing but the waves crashing against the hull of the ship as he stands contemplatively looking at you, as if searching for answers in your face. He’s not embarrassed by it, nor does he even try to hide his obvious interest in you. It’s unsettling, to say the least, to have this human’s attention so completely on you. Flattering too, but you don’t think much of it.

You definitely don’t want to be the first one to look away, but you’re getting restless with the intense eye contact and the silence, your sharp nails rhythmically drumming on the metal of the plataform. The shiny dust on your cheeks and nose becomes more and more evident, and perhaps the Captain is finally connecting the dots because a small smile stretches his lips - a genuine smile this time, something light and sweet, but undeniably provocative.

"It's doesn't react to you!" You say abruptly, spitting out the first thing that came to mind just to break the tension of the silence between the two of you. But your tone is too shrill and loud not to be seen as suspicious, increasing the color and intensity of the shiny dots on your cheeks and shoulders. The captain raises his eyebrow in amused question, indicating that he hadn't understood. You sigh, swallowing your own embarrassment.

"The stone. It's a special jewel... very sensitive, intelligent even, you could say. It's extremely reactive, just not to everyone." He listens to you attentively and with a sharp gaze, almost making you stumble over your own words a few times. "It doesn't shine like it used to because you're human and the stone know it. The ocean's tear, as it's called, only reacts to...uh, well...sea creatures." You find yourself irritatingly unable to explicitly say what you are, even though it's more than obvious by now. Some kind of throbbing self-consciousness takes hold of your mind, the very real realization that he can and probably will come to the inevitable conclusion that you and he are creatures from different worlds tightens your vocal cords and stops you from continuing.

Good heavens, as if the disparity between the two of you wasn't already obvious enough. Why would you suddenly be worried about it?

“Creatures like you, I suppose.” He contemplates, ruining your earlier subtlety with his irritating honesty. A small, sullen pout forms on your lower lip at that, more glittering dust of color staining your cheeks.

This was getting beyond ridiculous.

“Here.” You sigh grudgingly, breaking eye contact to pull the blue pendant from your long necklace between your thumb and forefinger. The stone is, as you said, reactive and immediately comes to life under your touch, singing and vibrating in the most beautiful shade of blue; prisms of diamonds and sapphires, resplendent and pure. The Captain Targaryen has the decency to look positively delighted to see this — as he should — and you smile softly at his reaction, finding great satisfaction in his rosy cheeks and bright gaze.

And then he’s standing to walk towards you, but stops short when you narrow your eyes and tense.

"It's okay. It's okay. I just want to..." he points to the stone, and you look at it. Then at him. And at the stone. And back at him. "I just want to get a closer look. But it's okay, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

You're already uncomfortable, you want to scream. You've been uncomfortable for weeks now. He's seen you, talked to you, heard more words from you than you've said to any other human - more words than you've said to any species in a long time, including your own. None of it made you comfortable. And yet, here you were. It would be a stupid, reckless mistake, no doubt about it. But you've been nothing but stupid and reckless these past few days. It couldn't get any worse.

(Yes, it could.)

"It's okay." You mumble, relaxing the muscles in your body and softening your expression into what you hope is something more friendly, more inviting. "You can come closer."

"Yeah?" He asks and you just nod once, not wanting to repeat yourself.

It takes him a few seconds to continue, but eventually moves. The tops of his boots are quickly soaked as he lowers onto the platform, the salty water lapping in small waves at his ankles. Something in your stomach feels alive, you notice with apprehension as you hold his gaze, fluttering and growing colder with each step he takes towards you. A sort of instinct growing and taking over you, taking over the strings of your body as if you were just watching everything from the outside, without control.

Your arms seek better support on the deck and you push yourself up, sitting as best you can on the floor, your back against the edge of the vessel, most of your tail still floating under the water. It's an instinctive reaction, really, and you barely realize what you're doing before it's done. It's not comfortable, you realize immediately, but what's done is done and the human's dumbfounded look is worth the awkward position.

"I..." he begins uncertainly, crouching back down on his knees, this time right next to you, taking your permission to come closer very seriously.

His gaze inevitably drops to where your breasts are exposed, his chest rising and falling faster the longer he keeps his attention there. It's not an offensive behavior, although it still makes you self-conscious in a funny way. It's not his fault, really. They're just there, in front of him - without any of the fabric coverings that humans are used to wearing. It would be impossible not to notice. And, well, they're different. You know they're not the conventional breasts he's used to seeing, most likely. Unlike human breasts, your soft mounds are dotted with flexible, delicate scales in a prism of lavender and purple, with no nipples in sight. But they're still breasts, and he's still a man. So he stares, until he realizes he's still staring. His pale cheeks grow pinker and he quickly looks up at your face as if he's been caught doing something he shouldn't.

A shy, yet somewhat mischievous smile stretches your lips despite your nerves.

"Fuck, this is insane." He scratches the back of his neck as he half laughs, half gasps, and for the first time, you find yourself agreeing wholeheartedly with this human. This is insane.

His reaction makes you relax a little, and soon you're holding the stone between your humiliatingly trembling fingers again and holding it out to him, as far as the necklace around your neck allow. He's closer to you than he's ever been, so close that you can smell the ghost of artificial mint tobacco on his breath. It's horrible. It's perfect.

The wind is more urgent now, whistling and howling and foaming water hitting the sides of the ship harder - as if the elements themselves are trying to warn you of the dangers of this approach.

You don't listen.

"It's...perfect." The captain whispers as he holds the stone, his long fingers inevitably brushing yours during the exchange, sending an electrifying, heated sensation through your entire body. He lowers his head to get a better look at the stone that gradually fades as it is held by his human hand, the vibrant and ethereal glow of blue fading to a darker shade. "Look at this, I guess I'm nothing special, hm?" He says this smiling, the stone still clutched in his fingers raised between your bodies, your faces close to each other. When he looks up at yours you are already looking at him, blinking with your large and expressive eyes.

Your own fingers raise, hesitant and curious, to the stone in his eye. You are slow with it, giving both him time to stop you if he wants to and yourself, but in the end neither of you reacts. The human just looks at your fingers before slowly shifting to your eyes once more, the night wind pushing a strands of silver between your faces until they touch your cheeks in a strangely intimate caress. When the tip of your two fingers touches the cool surface of the jewel it reacts immediately, drawing a sigh from both of you. The gem shines, warms under your touch, singing in vibrant and lively tones.

"I can feel -" The man murmurs almost breathlessly, blue eye wide open, dark pupil dilating like an endless black hole, searching your gaze as if you held all the answers he needs.

"What can you feel?" Your voice is no better than his, just as small and low. Your trembling fingers still on the jewel, feeling its vibration, listening reverently to the secret and silent song that it could only sing for you. The pure brightness reflects on your face, illuminating your features with a soft blue shade, enchanting the man in front of you as if you were an angelic image. A mythical and unattainable creature. A siren, in fact.

"I can feel...you." He confides with a reverent look, your own jewel still firmly gripped in his fingers, although inert and dark. The disparity should be frightening -; under your touch the gems shine and come to life, in his they wither and fall asleep. It should be just another indisputable proof in the already very high pile of evidence of how unnatural any involvement between you two would be.

But the collision is inevitable like the approaching storm.

He moves, leaning his body to kneel on the floor, soaking the fabric of his pants with the cold waves that partially cover this part of the deck. His tall, broad-shouldered body shadows yours, naturally trapping you against the side of the ship. Simultaneously you both release the grip your had on the jewels, as if you felt something had changed in the air. The pulsing muscle in your chest seems more intense and faster than ever as you looks at that stupid human, so close and so bold.

"What's your name?" He asks quietly, watching you so closely that you can barely focus on what was said, the question coming to you like an afterthought or a bruise that you only notice hours after it happened.

A name? Gods, how long has it been since you were called by your own name? How many decades has it been since someone cared enough to ask?

You whisper your name to him, confiding a part of yourself that was rarely spoken to anyone.

"..." he murmurs back, your own name sounding like the sunset over the ocean as it leaves his lips, beautiful and peaceful, yet breathtaking. You blink slowly, feeling as if inverse forces are at work in this moment. Feeling as if he has the gift of enchantment, unlike you. What is happening? "I am -"

"Captain Targaryen," you are quick to add, already accustomed to hearing his crew repeat his designation.

"Well, yes, that is usually what I am called..." he laughs softly, tilting his head an inch closer to you, meeting your gaze over the bridge of his nose. "But it is not my name."

Oh. Yes, of course. You know it.

He touches a damp strand of your hair, curious and gentle before letting the pad of his finger trace over the delicate curve of your nose, the outline of your eyebrows.

“Aemond,” the captain murmurs, and then presses the pad of his thumb against your lip, gently. You shiver, exhaling shakily at the touch. “My name is Aemond.”

Aemond.

The name rolls off your tongue and you repeat it, sweet as molasses, petal lips sliding against his thumb as you do so. He swallows with an almost mesmerizing movement of his Adam’s apple, heated gaze following the way his thumb presses against the soft fur of your bottom lip once more before he lets go of the touch. It’s almost disappointing to miss, but soon you realize he’s touching the bright freckles high on your cheeks and nose, one at a time, and then further to scratch along the shadows of color in your skin.

He’s close, almost sharing the same breath with you, so intensely interested in you that your heart catches in a slow burst of heat — of desire. An old feeling, hidden and locked away beneath layers of loneliness.

The gills on the sides of your neck itch and your throat starts to tighten from being out of the water for so long, a warning that you need to get back in soon. You know that.

You won’t.

Heart in your throat, you let him smooth your cheek with soft touches, thumb tracing the entire length of the curve of your jaw until it caresses the shape of your ear. His gaze is heavy on yours, mesmerized and fascinated, even though you haven’t used any of your gifts of enchantment. Not this time. Never with him.

“Beautiful.” He sings you an honest compliment and is so gentle, careful, hesitant even, as he pulls your face to his, and you feel the whisper of a nose slowly sliding against yours before thunder is heard in the distance. The sound isn't loud or clear enough to alert the human, but your sensitive ears are able to hear it perfectly and it's enough to snap you out of whatever spell you were trapped in.

He blinks rapidly with his one functional eye, the stone beside him now darkened to its previous shade of navy blue as you freeze and turn away from him, returning to the water with an abrupt and unkind movement. You keep your head above the surface however, staring at the heavy clouds forming more and more in the vastness above, feigning indifference to everything that has happened while your heart still thunders in your chest.

"A storm is coming." Is all you say, praying to any divine being that may exist that your expression is as serene and calm as you are trying to pretend.

The Captain - Aemond - is standing in the same position, looking at you with that stupid face, so confused and hesitant, as if trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

"Uh... I don't -"

He tried to reach out, tried to touch your hand as it floated above the waves, but you jerked away from him, sending him a narrowed, warning look, sharp fangs bared in a loud hiss.

“Don’t touch me.” You say, and your voice is venomous to him, for the first time. It hurts you to see the surprise on his face, the silent beginning of that realization that you could be a dangerous thing after all. You are.

It hurts, but you welcome the feeling. It is all your fault. If you hadn’t been so reckless, none of this would have happened. This human would meet his inevitable death at the claws of one of his sisters without the knowledge that you existed. Without you having experienced being in his presence, feeling his touch on your skin, having his attention entirely on you. It would be easier, for both of you.

Aemond Targaryen was every rule of survival that you ignored.

It was like one of those Greek tragedies that humans talked about so much.

The storm is approaching quickly and with it the end of this Captain and his sailors. The horde of sirens was aware of their presence, as it had been for days, just waiting for nature to intervene to create the perfect scenario for the attack. It would be reported later as a shipwreck, an unfortunate accident at sea that could easily be dismissed without suspicion. There was nothing you could do to stop it, even if you wanted to. And gods help you, you want to.

But you can’t save him.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You stare at the dark cloud formation above once more, taking a deep breath to control the frightening wave of emotions that threatens to break your nerves.

“Why not?” he asks, sensing the warning in your voice, and you shake your head slightly, eyes filling with tears — tears you haven’t shed since you earned your Ocean's Tear. He calls your name and you still don’t respond. “Y/n, tell me why I shouldn’t be here.”

He presses, a little harder now, a little more concerned, and you should respond. You should warn him about the dangers that lurk in the depths of the ocean and the bloody future predestined for him and his sailors. He deserved that much at least, right? But then again, what good would that do? What good would there be in knowing about a tragedy he can't avoid?

"I'm so sorry." You sigh without looking at him, shoulders shaking with emotions that seem too big for your body to handle. "I'm really sorry..." your voice breaks and a tear runs down your cheek as you look up at him, the sparkling freckles on your cheeks highlighted and your brows furrowed in anguish.

"...What?" He's confused, of course, not understanding the whirlwind of events that followed your contact on the ship. He senses your anguish, your reluctance to tell him what needs to be said. And, gods, he looks so beautiful like this. Icy breeze blowing his silver locks in front of his face, his eye bright and his skin pale as moonlight. "Why are you crying? Please talk to me."

You slowly approach the edge of the deck again, where he's kneeling, still waiting for you. Your chest is tight and your hands are shaking, but you think you’ll tell him. You think you’ll tell him what you know will happen, even if you’re both powerless to fight the forces of fate. He looks at you, his calm and captain’s confidence taking over again, reassuring you. Your lips part to start to speak, but the sound of approaching footsteps sends a chill down both of your spines.

You hesitate for a second, staring at him with wide eyes. Aemond is also alert, allowing himself to look at you one more time before saying:

“Go, now! He can’t know about you!” He’s right. No human could know about you and still be alive. But here you were, staring at one you didn’t intend to kill. “Wait-” He keeps his voice low as he watches you prepare to go, though his tone is urgent. His gaze is pleading, not wanting to leave you but knowing he has to. “Come back tomorrow, please.”

You coo, a sad sound, wanting to tell him there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. Not for him, at least. But instead, you wrap your smaller hand around his, careful of your claws, leaving a gentle grip on his knuckles as you look up at him with teary eyes.

“Take care, Captain Targaryen.” That’s all you say before you dive into the dark expanse of the ocean, never looking back. You couldn’t. Not when you felt so helpless. The jewel hanging from your neck protests and burns your skin so much that it even tears a grunt of pain from your lips, but you don't stop swimming, powerful fins pushing you as deep into the ocean as you can go. Silently you curse the stupid thing for not giving any sign of life in all these years, but choosing this moment to show that it was there.

The final act of this tale of tragedy was herep and your human would meet his bitter end at the merciless claws of one of his sisters.

You can't save him.

You can't...

You...

You can?

(And why did you think of him as 'your human' now?)

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shomatoriashi · 29 days ago

Text

10/27/24; 03:30pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ how they react when you take the last piece of their favorite candy ]

featuring: rin, sae, yoichi, meguru

notes / warnings: potentially ooc.

not known to have much of a sweet tooth, itoshi rin’s diet consisted of mainly foods that helped with replenishing his strength and stamina. with his main goal as being someone who could surpass his own brother, there was little room for error when it came to what he put in his body.

however, one tiny fact was kept hidden from the vast majority of his peers, and that was how he enjoyed eating these strawberry flavored hard candies that were a particular favorite of yours. in fact, he remembers the day he had first tried them.

it was when you had first began dating him, where you somehow managed to weasel your way into his cold, dead heart by flashing him a smile that seemed to mimic sunshine itself. as your bubbly personality melted away the ice that seemed to take over the entirety of his form, you had somehow convinced rin that he needed you, too.

ah, but he digresses.

on this particularly sunny day, rin had taken you out on a picnic date. you were thrilled to be spending the day with him, yet when he showed you the packed boxes of lunch he had prepared for you-

let’s just say, there was a lot to be desired.

sure, the meal prep was a healthy one, filled with just the right amount of rice with some pieces of lightly seared chicken and neat cuts of omelette, but by the end of your picnic date, you were left yearning for something more. as rin takes a swig out of his water bottle, you pulled out your favorite brand of candies from the confines of your bag.

curious teal eyes begin watching you with a fascination, following your every movement as you grabbed one of the cutely wrapped candies and plopped it in your mouth. the way your smile seems to widen at the taste of it makes rin wish to experience the same happiness that you were experiencing.

capping his water bottle, rin extends a hand out to you, silently asking for a piece of your candy. your eyes go wide while meeting his gaze, “rin, i thought you didn’t like sweets?”

“i’ll make an exception.” for you, only for you-

the last part remains unspoken.

with a gentle smile, you pour out a few pieces of candy into his open palm, allowing rin to observe it. he picks up the piece, seeing it wrapped cutely in cellophane that was decorated with pink and red polka dots. unwrapping it reveals a single piece of candy that was a bright red in hue while maintaining its heart shape. letting out a sigh, rin plops the candy in his mouth-

allowing the explosion of sweet strawberries to fill his senses. his eyes end up going wide in response to such an explosion of sweetness, meeting your gaze when he hears the joyous sounds of your laughter.

“not bad, right?”

letting out a scoff, rin looks away from you, already feeling his cheeks heat up, turning a rosier hue while being subjected to your loving gaze.

ever since that day, rin had to have a bag of your favorite candies on hand. now, he didn’t enjoy eating it because of the flavors or anything-

it’s just, he associates you with those special candies.

and more often than not, he would eat a few of those candies before a major game, as a bit of a good luck ritual before his next competition.

so when his game was a mere few hours away, and he had returned home after his usual morning run, he was ready to enjoy some of your candies. as he reaches into the kitchen cabinet, he sees the last bag of candy and was shocked to see it completely emptied.

a deadpan expression paints his features as he takes the empty bag in his hand, seeing the top of your hair settled in the living room. he says your name, and you face him-

with your cheeks appearing a bit chubby, as evidence as to how you were currently eating the last piece of candy. he tilts his head at you and silently holds up the empty bag. your eyes go wide, making you jump off of the sofa.

“i’m so sorry, babe! i’ll go to the convenience store and buy a new bag now-“

“no need.” rin tosses aside the bag, taking quick strides toward you. placing a hand on your chin, rin leans closer to you, perfectly slotting his lips against yours, effectively causing you to melt against him.

he briefly allows his tongue to trace across your lips, silently demanding entrance as you gingerly opened up to him. when you feel his tongue exploring yours, you figured he would simply deepen the kiss-

only to gasp when he manages to transfer the last piece of candy into his own mouth.

a flustered expression was plastered on your face, with your hands covering your lips. your head felt like it was spinning when rin sticks his tongue out at you, revealing the heart shaped candy that you had once snacked on just mere seconds ago.

“this will do.”

since he began dating you all those months ago, itoshi sae became aware of the colorful bag of candies that held an assortment of flavors and how it became a vital part of your life. during those rare moments where he was able to destress and relax with you, he realized those candies never strayed too far away from you.

similar to his brother, sae never saw the benefits of sugary snacks, like the hard candies you seemed to always religiously consume. to him, they were mere empty calories that didn’t do much but add unnecessary weight.

yet, seeing you happily munching on those colorful candies-

well, what was the harm in sharing something that you loved? (especially when he loved you the most in the world.)

letting out a sigh, sae settles himself next to you on your desk, grabbing the bag of your candies. you see him from your periphery and smile back at him, “try one, sae. i’m sure it won’t hurt you.”

“tch, i know it won’t hurt me.” sae tilts the bag downwards, allowing the rainbow colored candies to fall against your desk. he eyes each and every one of them before meeting your gaze.

“pick one for me.”

you hum, placing a hand beneath your chin while giving him a thoughtful expression. after a few seconds spent in deliberation, you pick a candy that was bright blue in hue. “blueberry. this is the last flavor in the pack, but i think it suits you.”

sae picks up the candy, giving you a smirk before offering it back to you.

“i changed my mind, i’d rather see you eat this after all.”

you roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s antics, “come on, sae, don’t be so difficult. i swear blueberry is one of the best flavors in here, and i’m willingly giving the last one to you.”

“if you love it so much, then i’d rather see you eat it.” sae flashes you a playful grin, making you roll your eyes in response.

“fine, suit yourself.”

you unwrap the candy and place the sapphire colored sphere in your mouth, letting out an eager sigh. “mmm, you don’t know what you’re missing out on, sae.”

“is that so?”

suddenly, sae inches closer to you, nuzzling the tip of your nose with his in an affectionate manner. you end up letting out a gasp, feeling sae’s lips connect with yours in a searing kiss. you clench your eyes shut, allowing sae to delve his fingers into your hair, his tongue felt exploring your mouth for a few beats before you felt your candy being transferred into his mouth.

you choked a bit, eyes going wide when sae lazily wraps his tongue around the piece of candy, basking in your expression as his smirk widens.

“hm, it’s not bad, and i wouldn’t mind eating candies like this from now on…”

whenever isagi yoichi felt stressed, or needed just a quick pick-me-up, he usually bought his favorite chocolate candies from his usual convenience store.

these chocolates were nothing short of divine for yoichi, a smooth milk chocolate that takes the shape of the perfect sphere that practically melts in your mouth. in fact, he was the one who introduced you to this heavenly brand of chocolate.

needless to say, ever since you began dating, this specific brand of chocolate had become a staple part of your relationship.

for the last couple of weeks, yoichi had been on a bit of a strict regimen when it came to building up his muscle mass, adding more protein to his usual diet while also adjusting his workout routine in hopes of making his body a bit stronger.

yet now, he found himself craving those same chocolates he had to cut himself off of. those same chocolates that gave him that burst of serotonin as he came to associate such sweetness with your smiles as well.

when yoichi came home from the gym later that night, he knew that he needed his usual fix that comprised of his favorite comfort candies and your kisses-

and once he entered your shared bedroom to see you watching movies on your laptop with the bag of his favorite candies emptied-

yoichi was devastated.

“no…!” he falls to his knees, acting like such a complete wreck that you had to pause the movie you were watching. you get off the bed within seconds and kneel down beside him.

“ichi, what is it, what’s wrong?” he meets your gaze, allowing his lips to thin upon seeing the last piece of chocolate in your mouth as evident from how you were cheeking it. and even though he was pouting a bit, yoichi couldn’t stay mad at you.

“it’s nothing… i just wanted to eat some chocolate as well, just to treat myself. but… it’s okay if you already ate it.”

your eyes go wide, but you let out a sigh, coming closer to your boyfriend as you met with his gaze. shaking your head, you press your lips against his, anticipating his gasp when you transferred the last piece of chocolate into his mouth.

yoichi ends up choking in response to your bold move, swallowing the piece of chocolate whole without tasting it. scarlet hues were seen settled on his cheeks when he lets out a stutter of your name, “what the hell was that for?!”

yet your cheshire cat grin only widens as you throw your arms around his neck, “what? you were acting like a kicked puppy when i ate the last of your chocolates, so i simply gave it back to you. it’s not my fault you swallowed it whole.”

as yoichi remains a mess of stutters, you continue to cuddle yourself closer to him-

making him finally realize that your cuddles and kisses against his features may be far sweeter than the chocolates themselves.

ever since he was a little boy, bachira meguru was addicted to these hard candies that were tropical flavored (his favorite being the orange and pineapple mix). he often liked to snack on these candies whenever he felt stressed and needed something easy to munch on and lift his spirits.

and once he began dating you, it was clear that you developed an liking to these candies as well. during late nights spent marathoning movies together, you would often snack on these candies with some popcorn, never once growing tired of them as it became almost like a tradition for you to share these beloved candies together.

on a particularly rainy day, meguru was too lazy to go out on a run, sticking his tongue out the window while silently cursing at the weather. running a hand across his hair, he instead gets an epiphany, choosing to spend the day with you.

with a bounce in his step, he lets out a cheerful hum of your name, opening the door to your shared bedroom. his sudden appearance makes you jump from your spot on the bed.

your mouth remains open in a gape, and meguru could see the bright orange candy settled at the tip of your tongue. in your hand was your cellphone as it played some silly cat video on repeat. seeing you and the bag of his favorite candies makes him land atop the bed with an eager laugh.

yet when he takes the bag of candies, only to find them empty-

meguru meets your gaze, with a sense of betrayal shining in them.

“how could you, i thought you loved me…!”

you roll your eyes at meguru’s antics, “sweetheart, you’re overreacting. let’s just go to the store and buy some more-“

“no, absolutely not! it’s rainy and gross outside.” meguru settles himself next to you while still pouting, hands crossed over his chest with his cheeks puffed out. his childish demeanor makes you giggle a bit, with you basking in how silly he was.

gently whispering his name, you settle yourself on his lap, causing your boyfriend to look away from you. with a sigh, you grip at his chin, making him face you before pressing your lips against his in a kiss.

never one to deny you or your kisses, meguru ends up opening up to you, allowing you to transfer the last bit of candy into his mouth. with your goal now accomplished, you had every intention to pull away from him-

only to be physically stopped by meguru when he places a hand behind your head, keeping your lips locked with his in a fervent kiss that takes your very breath away, with the last piece of candy long forgotten now.

end notes: it’s so obvious who my bias is from the sheer length of these drabbles coughsrincoughs (⺣◡⺣)♡

anyways, i have to post this right away bc tumblr keeps messing up when it comes to saving my drafts; i’ll edit and make changes once this is posted 😭😭😭😭😭

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#itoshi rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #bachira meguru x reader #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #meguru bachira x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi sae x you #isagi yoichi x you #bachira meguru x you #rin itoshi x you #sae itoshi x you #meguru bachira x you #yoichi isagi x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #writings 📖

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