#this is about shirayuki learning to navigate desire...so it fits

[sabraeal]

Rarely Pure & Never Simple, Chapter 8

Written for the first day of the Guilty Project challenge! This one was supposed to come out for Obiyukiweek this year-- the free day, as per usual-- but I just had too busy a schedule in August and September to make it happen, especially when it seemed like this part of the fic would grow out of control once again!

[Read on AO3]

Shirayuki should be sleeping.

She had every intention to after Obi murmured his last goodnight. Her whole body hummed through the hang up, savoring the way his voice raked over the gravel in his chest, but it was hardly the first time. There’d been plenty of nights post-rehearsal where she spent the whole walk home thinking about something he said-- no, the way he’d said it in the dark of the backstage, sitting on that couch, conspicuously not touching. Entire hours where she wondered why her fingers trembled and her brain felt numb, running over the precise pitch he said kid.

Sure, the answer’s obvious now, but still-- she’s used to it passing. The whole time she winds her headphones, finding a safe place to put them on the bedside table, dreams seem only a blink away, all this nebulous tension destined poof into the ether like a cartoon cloud once her head hits the pillow.

Yet as she watches the minutes tick past midnight, and the dull ache that he’d left between her legs blossoms into a soaked, trembling need. For what, Shirayuki won’t even let herself contemplate.

You didn’t come, did you? It wasn’t a purr when he asked, but there’s no use telling her head that, not when every neuron is hell-bent on inventing words to put in his mouth too. You want me to handle that for you?

Shirayuki stifles a groan into poly-fil. Maybe he hadn’t said it, but he would have, if she let him. Which she just-- should have. Sure, it might have been mortifying to contemplate, but sandwiched between Senior Day and sexual frustration, the mortifying ordeal of being known (as horny) is a cheap price to pay for a body that can fall asleep on command.

But now she’s stuck; hoping that this terrible frustration might yield to fatigue sometime before night turns into morning. That instead of laying here, trying to distract herself with brain-ticklers from the Mathlete study guide, she dozes off, doomed to unsatisfying dreams filled with fluttering curtains and nondescript bodies rubbing against each other. Fade to black material, Kihal would tease her, even in your own wet dreams.

It’s the only kind of material she has; all her concrete knowledge of Obi is above the waist, and though he’s done some, um, exciting things beneath her skirt, it’s not like she’s ever seen any of it. At least, nothing that isn’t his eyes, peering up from where fabric’s rucked back, meeting hers as his tongue flicks out to--

Haah, that is-- that’s not helping. Not when she can’t just reach down and get herself off with the way Obi does. Instead she’s on her own, waiting until--

The table rattles, and her phone's display shining bright in the dark. Her heart leaps into her throat-- maybe?-- and sinks when she sees 92˚F Sunny/Clear. Ugh. At least she can be consoled by the nice weather when she’s sleep deprived from lack of-- of jacking off. No, jilling off? It would be nice if someone could give her a glossary, so she can at least explain with precision why she’s failing sexy culinary school.

Her hands clap over her eyes, but it’s no use, she can already hear Obi’s playful lilt, the way he’d almost certainly tell her, you know, if you need some help with technique, I’m happy to observe. Maybe provide some hands-on training. Proctor your exam...

She snorts. Little good that does her now, when he’s in bed, and she’s got to deal with this all on her--

Shirayuki blinks, hands dropping to the mattress. Her phone sits silent, screen dark now, but maybe...maybe...

Maybe she doesn’t.

Her fingers hover mere millimeters away from the screen protector, one curled corner tickling her smallest knuckle. She shouldn’t, really. It’s bad enough that she’s suffering, she doesn’t need to drag Obi into it. He’s going to be behind the wheel tomorrow, which requires things like sleep and concentration and not having stayed up until the wee hours talking your hopeless girlfriend through her perfectly normal sexual arousal. It’s not like he can do anything about how all she has is her own, fumbling hands.

That doesn’t stop her from asking, Are you up?

No answer. Not after two seconds, not after ten. Because unlike her, he’s asleep; wrung out and sated from how she-- she--

God. His moan is too vivid to be just in her head. I would have come for you anytime.

I’m stuck, she adds for good measure. Maybe luck will be on her side, and he’ll get up to pee sometime in the night, and she’ll...

She’ll die from waiting that long. Or at least, it’ll feel like it tomorrow morning, when all she has is two hours of vaguely dissatisfying sleep to go off of.

Options, Shirayuki must admit, are limited. Her fingers pluck at the smooth cotton of her waistband, lifting until she sees the barest shadow of auburn. There are plenty of people who can handle their own sexual needs without the use of a partner or, er, other accoutrements. In theory, she could be one of them.

But that’s not what the data says. Her waistband snaps back into place, leaving the barest flush of red across her belly. Without any natural aptitude, her next most obvious recourse is to bring her problems to google, but, er, well-- even if Kihal finally showed her how to clear her cookies, she’d never live down having this in her search history. Sure, all Grandad knows how to do on a computer is play solitaire, and if Nanna knew about search history then she’d know enough to use bookmarks too, which hasn’t happened no matter how many times Shirayuki has begged but--

She can’t risk it. Not unless she wants to be grounded forever. She’ll just have to figure it out on her own, like climbing trees, or reading. Maybe the data doesn’t favor a positive result, but history has shown: if she wants something bad enough, she’ll get it done.

(”God.” It leaves him on a groan, low enough to rumble straight from his chest into hers. Her lips feel swollen, raw from where his stubble’s scraped them, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting to draw him back. “And you thought you needed someone to teach you how to kiss?”

Her breath stutters, breasts crushed so close against his chest she nearly has cleavage. “Well, you laughed the first time.”

“Because you were braced for mouth-to-mouth warfare.” The ghost of a grin cants his lips-- her thighs clench tight, flexing against the flare of his hips.“But after that...”

One hand cups her cheek, palm hot against her jaw. It’s hard to look at him when he’s this close, the amber of his eyes shining gold as they drop to her lips. “I-I’m a fast learner. And...” Heat flares painfully under her skin, pinching at her ears. “I had a good tutor.”

“Well, sure.” His smile is positively insufferable; a bold move when he’s already hard against her hip, one squiggle away from incoherence. “But there was definitely some natural talent at play, kid.”

His thumb skates across her skin, only stopping at her lips. They tingle, more from anticipation than touch. If Shirayuki’s being honest-- which she always is, except when Nanna asks if everyone is decent when she comes up the stairs-- the rest of her body isn’t doing much better. “A-aah?”

“I think...” The pad of his thumb catches on her bottom lip, drawing her mouth open, loose-- and emptying her head in the process. “You could have gotten those results with anyone. Guess I’m just lucky you knew I’m easy.”

He laughs when he says it, that quick little wounded chuckle he’s so good at hiding behind. It’s as good as a cold shower. Her hands are trapped beneath his shoulder, but she brings them as far north as the can, gripping his ribs. “That’s not true.”

Obi blinks, the smooth molten honey cooling to a confused amber. “Sure it is, kid. I mean, I’m not mad or anything. Worked out just fine in my opinion.”

“No, I didn’t-- I didn’t pick you because you were easy. I mean, because I thought you were easy. Not that I did!” It’s good she’s already got him in her hands, because otherwise he might feel the way they trembled. “I went to you because I trusted you. Zen laughed when we kissed the first time, and I couldn’t-- I knew--” words have always been her most constant companions, but for some reason, she can’t make them come out in order-- “you wouldn’t.”

“Ah...” he huffs, amused, rolling onto his side. “Well, looks like you were wrong about that.”

There’s far too much space between them. “I wasn’t, not really. You laughed, but it wasn’t...at me.”

He stares at her like she’s started spouting Latin. Or Joyce. “Of course not. I was just nervous as fuck. I really wanted...”

It’s obvious what he wanted, now. But even still he can’t say it, only sit there, tense, as his skin flushes darker. Back then she would have missed it, and now she can’t help but wonder if he’d looked just like this then, flushed and wanting while she’d been too blind to see it.

“I also thought...” Her fingers reach out, toying with the button on his henley. “I thought if I was going to ask anyone, it should be someone who was a good kisser. And I, um, knew you would be.”

“Ah right.” His mouth slinks into a smirk. “Because I’m a slut.”

Her mouth pulls thin. “No. I mean because...” If she thought blushing had been painful before, it’s worse now, heat stinging her cheeks like a slap. “Because I had, ah, thought a lot about what it might be like to kiss you.”

His jaw drops. “Me?”

“Ah...yes.” The whole night churned through her head endlessly these past few months, examined from every angle to determine how she went from practice kissing to dry humping to long-term boyfriend, if only to keep from sliding back to friends and then strangers in the same inexplicable fashion.

It took an embarrassing amount of time to conclude it wasn’t about that night. It wasn’t even about Zen’s kiss. Oh no, it was the tech couch, her bare knee rubbing against his jeans as she leaned too close, wondering about where he bought his body wash. It was how she always found a reason to touch him when she thought his shirt looked soft; how she always volunteered to do sound check just to hear him rumble in her ear, the two of them alone on the headsets. It was how with every hook up the crew dragged out of him, his imaginary partner inched a shade closer to red.

“I liked Zen,” she admits, the safest part of this terrible confession. “But I...I really wanted to kiss you. Just once. I think.���

His mouth is so wide that she can nearly see his tonsils. “So, you...?”

“Not-- not on purpose.” She breathes; something it feels like she hasn’t done in forever. “But I think if you hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have even thought to go to anyone else.”

Obi stares at her, uncomprehending. “So you mean to tell me, you tricked me into kissing you?”

“I didn’t know I was!” she yelps, hiding her face. It’s too late, he’s already laughing; she can see it where she peeks through her fingers. “But...I’m pretty sure, yes.”)

Right. A breath huffs determinedly from her lungs. The only way to make good data is to generate more of it.

It’s easy for her hand to slide down the smooth plane of her belly; both summer heat and suffering makes her skin slick, slick enough that her fingers bang knuckle-first into her waistband. It’s not much of a barrier-- just a cotton drawstring that is more decorative than functional, tied into the cutest bow a youtube tutorial could walk her through after it unraveled in the wash. But it’s enough to pull her up short, blunt nails scraping at stretch cotton.

“It’s not a big deal.” Her fingers pluck at the band, letting it slap softly back against her abdomen. “Anyone can do this.”

And she better be able to, otherwise she’ll be spending Senior Day snoozing behind her sunglasses instead of having fun in the sun. Or whatever is they’re supposed to do.

That’s what decides her; one minute she’s dithering, and the next she thinks about Kihal getting curious about the bags under her eyes. What kept you up? she’d ask, unsuspecting. Shirayuki would love to think she could be vague, that somehow she could dress a lie up in the truth’s costume, but-- she knows herself too well. I got stuck would come out as a reflex, and, well...

Her hand slips beneath her shorts. Between her two options, this is sure to be less mortifying.

Last time, hair had crinkled against her palm, tying painful knots around her fingers like kudzu, but now-- now she’s soaked, everything between her thighs coated in a film of slick, and there’s nothing to stop her sliding down, nothing to stop her opening her lips and dragging fingers through them the way Obi tells her she likes. And she does when it’s his fingers, callused and slender, touch just the perfect pressure, but now--

It’s fine. Fingertips skate along her folds, teasing her slit, and it’s-- it’s okay. Not enough to make her forget it’s her hands touching her, that she’s just fumbling through the dark with nothing more than a guttering match and directions written on a napkin.

Fumbling is apropos; she’s wet but too much so, and one slow swipe careens close to her clit, sending her vision into pixels at the edge but not in a good way. How Obi manages, she’ll never know. It’s her own body and she’s hopeless.

She shifts, back hitting the pillows with a huff. It’s no use; there’s nothing exciting about it being her own hands, not like how it is when Obi touches her, every breath and brush a surprise. There must be some secret to forgetting, something everyone else is born able to do and is broken in her, because short of thinking of Obi--

Wait. Her hands still. Could she?

She’s tried before; nebulous fantasies where she shied from faces, even if every partner spoke in his same elastic voice, laughed with his warm rumble-- well, except for the few times they goaded her with a good, Shirayuki, just the way Kiki did that one time in gym class. 

(She nearly apologized the next day, worrying that Obi would think she wasn’t serious, but she never made it past the first breath on that anxiety. Instead she remembers Kiki looming over her backstage, asking her to help with the billion pearl buttons on the back of her costume so she could get to the bathroom, and Kai breathing into her ear, I’d love to help her take off the dress.

His mortification is instant. She may not be able to see him over the headset, but she doesn’t need to to know he was eight shades of red already. Oh, jeeze, don’t-- don’t tell her I said that. I didn’t mean--

It’s okay, ladykiller, Obi drawls, every syllable smug. I think it’s part of the human experience to want to fuck Kiki Seiran. Or be fucked by her, he adds, thoughtful. Whatever floats your boat.)

Anything more than vague human shapes and some, er, illicit voice sampling has seemed too much, so personal, but maybe, maybe if she did--

Well, it would be nice if this overactive imagination was good for something other than providing the angle of her broken neck if she missed a stair. But if that’s the case, well-- she would definitely need some, um, inspiration, as Obi called it.

The phone slides into her palms easy; she takes a moment to look at the home screen-- No New Notifications, it reads, disappointingly-- before flipping right to the gallery.

Just a splash of tan skin on the thumbnail sets her heart to a gallop, chasing the thrill up and down her spine. Full size, she squirms, staring at his bare chest, the casual way he lounges in his chair. His gym shorts are baggy, hanging off his body without showing anything more, but-- but he was hard beneath them. He’d taken this, and then moments later came whimpering into her ear, because he-- he--

He touched himself. Even with her...reservations, there’s a part of her that’s curious, that wants to know what he looks like with his hands wrapped tight around his-- his thing. Penis. Dick? Cock. That sounded better. More, ah, literary.

She could right now-- know, that is, if she could find the courage to ask. I know its late but I was wondering if you might send me a picture of your erect penis.

No. Cock. Or was that too aggressive? It hardly matters, the second she pictures typing it, her mind stalls out, embarrassment wiping the slate clean. What would he even say to something like that.

are you sure?

Yes, that’s right. He would want to-- he’s sent them to other girls before. Not at their school, but before, when he didn’t have xbox but all the time in the world to get into trouble. At least, that’s how he puts it. He’d want to, but she has rules, and, um, a dickphobia, so he wouldn’t just...whip it out.

No, that’s not quite right. Her eyes screw shut, trying to picture it. He’s conscientious, sure, and if she asked him in person, he’d want to have a whole conversation-- or as much as his head could handle, hard as it would make him. But a picture she has control over; she could ask and just...never look. Not if she didn’t want to.

just gimme a min Smugness would radiate from the screen. If there’s one thing Obi is confident in, it’s his body. gotta make it look good u kno what i mean kid 😘

That’s closer to reality; as close as she can come without actually doing it, but it feels-- right. But also not enough, not what she wants.

u want me 2 call?

That isn’t it either. She squirms, that electric feeling trapped too far beneath her skin, net enough to set her slight. She needs more.

how ab a meet n greet 🍆 

It’s too much, even for him, but she doesn’t care, not when all she imagines trembling fingers replying, yes please

5 minutes His own would have to be shaking, too, if he bothered to type the whole word. keep the window open

Ah, if she’d thought she was soaked before, she’s drenched now, hips bucking hard against the slide of her hand. That’s how he’d find her, his name already half on her lips as he climbed through the window. No, don’t stop on my account, kid...

She whines, every stroke of her fingers sending sparks under her skin. It’s still her touching herself, but he’s beside her now, breath tickling her neck. Fuck. His voice is already a wreck, his hand laying over hers, feeling every flick of her tendons as she works. Fuck, kid, you’re so wet.

He’s shirtless now too, t-shirt decorating her floor and gym shorts riding low, doing nothing to hide how hard he is against her hip. If this were real, her stomach would flip, half-fear half-arousal. She likes knowing he wants her, that his attraction to her isn’t just that she’s the first person who showed him a scrap of kindness but also based in quantifiable chemistry, but--

But there’s a part of her that’s convinced one day he’ll get bored of her being prude. That he’ll reach his limit with her ridiculous dickphobia and just whip it out, no warning at all, and she’ll--

Well, she doesn’t know what she’ll do, but she wouldn’t be coming out of it with a boyfriend, that’s for sure.

She doesn’t think about that now. No, not when all she can think of is the choked-off whimper he gave when she told him how she wanted to see him come, how he whined when he took himself in his hands and-- and--

Every inch of her is static, Obi’s phantom touch setting her to writhe beneath her fingers. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? To touch him? She could take her hand and press it right over filmy material of his shorts, palm raking over the ridges of his cock.

He bucks into her hands, whine tearing from his lips. Kid...

It’d felt good to make him come tonight, to be the one that talked him over the edge. But if she was the one touch him, the one controlling how fast his heart beat in his chest...

Shirayuki doesn’t have any practical knowledge about what a penis feels like, not outside of what she’s felt against her hip as they kissed, but she can imagine. All those pictures on google hadn’t done much for her-- fleshy shafts seemed more ridiculous than arousing-- but it’s Obi. There hasn’t been a single part of him that doesn’t make her salivate, wondering what it would feel like against her. How could this be any different? How could she not want it when he’s panting beside her, name caught in his throat from just the barest touch?

I want to see it, she whines, and Obi wastes no time, yanking down his waistband with a groan that sets thunder rolling in her belly. His cock springs against her hip, and she takes it, looking down--

Only for her mind to go utterly blank. She can’t picture it, not as anything she’s seen in the harsh light of google image search. Her fingers skitter awkwardly, nearly jostling into her clit, but-- but she’s not going to lose this progress, not when she’s so close, when it would take nothing to tip her right over the edge. She screws her eyes shut, focusing on the weight in her hand, the warmth, the way his breath would hiss between his teeth as she moved her hand.

Shirayuki, he groans, hips thrusting up into her palm, don’t stop. Please...

She can’t, not now, not when she’s chasing that elusive height at the apex of her thighs, when she’s made less of flesh and more of nerves firing over and over, so close to her edge--

Please, she breathes. I want you. I want you inside--

It takes her by surprise. One moment he’s curled into her side, hissing in her ear-- you can have me, take me, please, please-- and then she tips over, static sweeping over from her head to her toes and back again, a blinding rush that only Obi’s ever given to her, until--

Until now. Her eyes blink open, fixed on the ceiling. She did it.

It’s not as good as when he touches her; nothing could be. But this...

Well, she’s no longer stuck. But now she’s have to tell Obi, and--

Ooh, kid. The thought of his grin sends a spike of want between her legs, even as she withers under it. How’d that happen?

Shirayuki flops onto her belly and groans. That’s something for Tomorrow-Shirayuki to deal with.

[queenofwordsandnerds]

AnS Characters as D&D Classes

Honestly this is kind of difficult because all the AnS characters are so beautifully complex and it's hard to fit them into one class, but I tried my best

Shirayuki - Cleric/Ranger

I think Shirayuki might be the most difficult to classify. When I think of her, the first word that comes to mind is healer. She's very focused on using her skills, knowledge and research to help people. In the AnS universe, she's not a fighter. Not physically, anyway, although the longer the manga goes on the more skilled she becomes with using words to cut and discover. But Shirayuki is primarily a healer, and the Cleric class is the closest I could get to that. In the D&D world, she might be more of a fighter and maybe(?) have a god she devotes herself to? (There aren't really any deities or religious systems in the AnS world that I know of).

This is the closest I could get, and maybe Shirayuki could multiclass into a Ranger or something, since she also has a strong connection to nature and could probably use that knowledge to survive out in the wild.

(Plus I just love the idea of Shirayuki with a bow. Very Yona-like.)

Zen - Paladin/Fighter

I feel like 3/5 of the Zen Squad will be either Paladins or Fighters, tbh. Zen, Kiki and Mitsuhide could all multiclass into one or the other. The lack of any deity or religion makes it difficult to classify the knight-figures as full Paladins, which is the closest I could think of to Zen's princely natures.

Fighters can easily be knights too, but they tend to focus more on the art of combat and physical prowess. Paladins have a stronger sense of justice, right and wrong, and a desire to uphold goodness, which I feel characterizes Zen very well. He's a prince, and his primary responsibility will always be to his kingdom. Zen has a strong sense of duty but also fairness and rightness, which is why I classed him primarily as a Paladin and not a Fighter.

I mean, "knight in shining armor" heLLO?

Obi - Rogue/Monk

HOOOOOOOO BOY. If you know me at all you know my obsession with the Obiyuki ship (I WILL GO DOWN TO HELL OR UP TO HEAVEN WITH THEM) and Obi as a character particularly.

Obi is obviously a Rogue. For so many reasons. I even rolled up an actual D&D character for a campaign based off of him. That's how much I love him. Obi in the D&D-verse would be amazing.

"A scoundrel who uses stealth and trickery to overcome obstacles and enemies" (DNDBeyond) if that doesn't SCREAM Obi, idk what does. Especially pre-Shirayuki Obi. Before he met the Zen Squad, Obi was the classic rogue. Master of a wide variety of skills, putting those skills to use in mostly illegal or at least illicit activities, prioritizing cunning over brute strength...yeah. I don't really need to go on.

After Obi joins the Squad and becomes an official knight, he's not really a stereotypical rogue anymore in that he has a family, a home, something to protect beyond his own self-interest. He becomes much nobler, more loyal, a true knight. He just happens to be a different sort of knight than most others, putting his skills and cunning to use in a different capacity.

I would also definitely multiclass Obi into Monk because of the martial arts. Obi has extraordinary control over his physical self and can use his body to devastating effect in several ways, which is very Monk-like (sword-flipping handstand AHEM). I debated making Monk primary, but I realized pretty quickly that Rogue fits Obi first way more. The biggest reason against putting Monk first is that Obi doesn't have much of a spiritual connection to his skills, nor did he come from a monastery/academy nor have traditional training. Definitely a Rogue first.

Mitsuhide and Kiki - Fighter/Paladin

Mitsuhide and Kiki's fighting styles are very similar, especially because of their occupation as Zen's aides and guards. "Well-rounded" specialists" is a good way to describe them. They are dedicated knights and skilled warriors for sure.

The only reason I wouldn't make them Paladin-Fighters like Zen is because they have different goals and duties. Their primary goals as Zen's knights is to protect him. They don't have the same responsibility of running a kingdom and navigating politics the way Zen does. Okay, maybe Kiki does somewhat as the heiress of Seiran, but still not in the same capacity as Zen. They have strong senses of justice, etc, but it's just not the same feeling as Zen. I think of Mitsuhide and Kiki as warriors first and diplomats/nobles second, which is why I'd make them Fighter-Paladins.

I'm not gonna go through the whole cast of characters of course, I mainly wanted to describe the Zen Squad. But I'll add a few more here:

Ryuu - Wizard

Ryuu is a NERD™. Yes he's a healer like Shirayuki, but he's always been more prone to scholarly pursuits, staying up until ungodly hours to research something highly specific. He also has a fantastic memory, and of course he's a pharmaceutical prodigy by age 12. The kid's a genius, and he would be very much at home in any library, researching plants, medicines, diseases and cures.

Ryuu is very much a Ravenclaw, and Wizard is the most Ravenclaw, nerdy class there is. Learning magic from books, scholarly knowledge of the arcane, that's what Ryuu would be doing.

I could multiclass him into either Cleric for the healing powers like Shirayuki, or Ranger for the nature connection and knowledge. I mostly see him as just a wizard though, probably specializing in compounds and minerals to create complex magical effects.

Izana - Paladin/Wizard

Our King Izana is hard to classify, man. He's such a complex character but we don't know all that much about how he thinks or works. He might be even harder for me to classify than Shirayuki.

I don't really see Izana fitting any of the D&D classes strongly. He's very much a skilled warrior for sure, like Zen, but he doesn't really fit the Paladin bill in the same way his younger brother does. He's much more mysterious. He's also very very smart, skilled in politics and diplomacy. He's good at manipulating people too and using any means necessary to protect what's close to him. Very much a Slytherin. There's not really any D&D class that deals with the political side of things a whole lot. Charisma and Intelligence yeah, but most of the classes are focused more on fighting style or something else like music/art (Bard).

If I had to choose, I'd probably go Paladin anyway, just because of Izana's relation to Zen and the Paladin's focus on Strength and Charisma. I'd make him an Int-heavy Paladin though, and multiclass him into Wizard because of the strong emphasis on Intelligence and Wisdom.

Izana's tricky man

Raji - Bard

This one's mostly just for fun

Solely because of his violin skills

Also Bards have a reputation for being horny af, and although I feel bad, I think of how he wanted to make Shirayuki his concubine at first just because of her beautiful hair

I know Raji has changed and I think he's a great character who obviously learned from his mistakes

But it's just funny

I love Raji and him being a stereotypical horny Bard who loves his friends is absolutely hilarious