liyahbug

Latest Posts by liyahbug

⟳ 26. INTOXICATED

You and Kaz arrive at the bar a little late, but just in time for the first few waves of shots being passed around. The place hums with energy, with dim lights, heavy bass, unfamiliar bodies pulsing near the DJ booth.

Ven spots you both from the second-floor lounge near the stairs, presumably the couch space he claimed for all of you.

“Over here!” he bellows, trying to cut through the music with bleary eyes. You spot your friends laughing at his theatrics, already nestled into the couch.

You snort. The night’s barely begun and he’s already half gone.

You scan the crowd between you and the stairs. Someone bumps into you in the chaos, jolting you off-balance. You instinctively reach for the nearest thing—

Kaz.

He feels your light tug and immediately turns to steady you, murmuring a quiet, ‘Careful,’ as he catches your arm.

He holds out his hand. “Don’t let go, okay?”

You smile and slip your fingers into his.

You weave through the crowd, hands clasped tightly so you don’t lose each other in the press of bodies.

“[Name]! Kaz! You guys made it!” Ven slurs, stumbling forward to greet you with a hug that lingers a bit too long.

“God, you already reek, and it’s not even ten p.m.,” you groan, hugging him back anyway.

He giggles. “That’s the thing! It is almost ten, and I’m not blacked out yet!”

You roll your eyes but smile. “Happy birthday, you menace.”

“Thank you!” he sings.

“Happy birthday, Ven,” Kaz says with a soft smile. Ven slings an arm around his shoulder.

“Take care of [Name] tonight, yeah?” Ven adds, waggling his eyebrows.

Kaz chuckles and gently removes Ven’s arm, patting his back. “I’ll look out for her.”

“Boo! No fun!” Ven laughs, tottering back to his seat.

You greet your friends, let Lumi pull you into a selfie, and down your first shot without even asking what it is.

Then another.

You slow down after a few more, pleasantly buzzed but still steady. Some of your friends head down to dance, pulled by partners or strangers into the tide of music. You and Kaz linger, watching from above.

“They’re so loud,” you say, amused as you hear their shouting voices above the music.

Kaz chuckles beside you, pouring himself a drink. “I’m surprised you’re not down there with them.”

Sighing, you take the same bottle and pour it into your own glass. “Normally, I would. But… I’m just not feeling it tonight. Not here.”

“The place?”

You simply hum in response, taking a sip of your drink.

“Soda? Really?” you say as you feel the liquid fizzing in your mouth.

“Someone’s gotta stay somewhat sober,” Kaz laughs as he proceeds to take another sip of his drink. “I already took my one shot of vodka and I already feel dizzy. I told you I don’t take alcohol well.”

You down the soda in your glass and fill it up again with the same drink.

“You do know Ven was just joking when he tweeted that,” you say with a breathy chuckle.

“Even so, I need to honor the celebrant’s wish,” he replies with a proud smile.

You shake your head and take a sip of your drink, not replying.

“Do you drink often?” he asks.

“Not recently, no,” you answer.

“Seriously? Even after the whole break-up?”

“Not a break-up,” you mutter, shooting him a look. He smiles amusedly in response. “And no. I didn’t drink then because I firmly believe alcohol doesn’t help with pain.”

And mostly because you didn’t want to end up doing something stupid while drunk.

“So you drinking now means… what? Progress?”

“Maybe?” You shrug. “I don’t know.”

But deep down, you know that’s not entirely true.

You’d be lying if you said you don’t feel anything for him anymore.

You just forced yourself to stop thinking.

No reminiscing, no late-night peeks at his profile, no checking what his ex posted.

You locked him away in your mind and told yourself not to look back.

That one day, time would dull it all.

His face. His voice. His touch.

Your feelings.

And honestly? Kaz helped with that. Willingly.

He knew all of this and was happy to help distract you and guide you through your emotions.

“You’ll get there eventually,” he says.

At one point you started to think the ‘therapist’ joke was becoming real.

You could feel him glance at you longer than usual, and you notice the warmth in his gaze.

And for a second, it feels like something you could want, something you could drown yourself in.

If only you were ready. But you’re still scared.

Maybe in the future.

“Yeah. I will,” you affirm to yourself.

But of course, just when you think the universe might give you peace,

out of nowhere—

Your eyes land on a familiar figure walking through the crowd at the entrance.

You squint to double check that it’s not just the alcohol in your system playing with your mind.

Your stomach drops.

Of course.

Just when you were talking about it.

And at such a vulnerable state, too.

You grip the edge of the couch instinctively, the cold of your glass grounding you.

Kaz sees your shoulder tense. He looks at you, wordlessly asking if you’re okay.

You turn to him. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

His worry slowly dissipates, and nods in understanding.

You make your way downstairs and to the dance floor.

Then you’re spinning around, moving too fast, eyes scanning the crowd until they land on Ven, drunk laughing with your friends, tipping back another shot like it’s juice.

You beeline to him.

“Ven.” You grab his arm and drag him out away from the group and near the bathrooms.

“Wah–? What’s wronggg?” he garbles.

“Why the hell is he here?”

Ven blinks at you, bleary-eyed. “Who?”

“Kuni.”

“Ohhhh,” he drawls, grin crooked. “Ajax asked to invite him. I said yes.”

“You what?” you hiss, louder than intended. “Why?”

He shrugs, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Thought it’d be fun.”

You stare at him in disbelief and betrayal. “Even her?”

Ven immediately sobers up. Not in expression, but in tone. “Hell no. I’d never let her near my party.”

“But he can?”

Ven just laughs—shrill, high, unbothered—and walks away with a stupid, ‘Good luck!’

You don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or go home.

Or strangle an intoxicated friend.

He’s lucky it’s his birthday.

So instead, you go to the open bar and order a whole bottle, bringing it with you.

You step upstairs and make your way toward the couch area, the bass from downstairs still thumping faintly beneath your shoes.

And there he is.

Sitting with Ajax and Kaz, a glass already in hand. Ajax is next to him, mid-speech, but freezes the moment he sees you, nearly choking on his drink. Kaz is settled across the couch, comfortably distant from them, staring at Kuni as if also not expecting him to be here.

You don’t hesitate. You walk straight to them and slide on the couch beside Kaz. Closer than earlier.

You pour yourself a drink, adding ice from the bucket.

No one says anything.

Not yet.

One shot.

Ajax tries, “[Name], he’s—“

The shot glass clinks on the table as you pour more.

Two shots.

Kaz gives you a subtle glance, like he’s about to say something, but doesn’t.

The tension is thick.

You lean back on the couch, letting your head rest for a moment. You don’t notice Kaz’s arm stretched behind you, resting casually on the top of the couch until you’re already half-leaning into it.

Not touching, but almost.

You don’t mean to look, but you feel it.

The weight of someone’s eyes on you.

He’s staring.

He hasn’t said a word. Just stares intensely at the both of you from across the couch like he’s trying to piece you back together in his head.

It’s like he’s waiting for you to break.

And it infuriates you.

You keep your face blank, but your thoughts spiral.

Why is he even here? Why did he accept Ajax’s invite knowing you’d be here.

Was it to mock you? To check up on you? To make sure you can’t move on properly from him?

You pour another drink, but hesitate this time. Your grip tightens. Your breathing hitches.

“You alright?” you hear Kaz whisper softly in your ear that sends shivers down your spine.

You nod. Barely.

Your surroundings begin to spin and blur. The crowd’s chatter and the music’s blaring beat fade into a distant, drowned-out hum.

You try to concentrate, not giving in to the alcohol. Your head tips against Kaz’s shoulder, resting. He doesn’t move.

You glance up, and sure enough, Kuni is still staring.

Still drinking you in like he has a right to.

But this time, he’s downing a bottle as he keeps his gaze fixated on the two of you.

Memories flood back.

The times when you kept saying to yourself that it’s the last time. That you’d end things with him.

And then Kuni shows up, like he always does, to remind you what you’re trying to leave behind.

You glare at him once. Hard. Daring him to look away.

He doesn’t.

If his expression earlier was somewhat readable, this time it’s impossible to comprehend.

Does he regret it? Or is he just proud of himself?

This pisses you off.

You want a reaction out of him.

He doesn’t just get to let you go and be happy. He can’t just be unaffected by all of this.

You want to show him what he took for granted.

There must be something.

And in a sudden burst of defiance, you grab the half-empty bottle on the table and down most of it.

The liquor burns, but it’s a distraction.

A blur.

Exactly what you need.

You stand up, wobbling as the rush hits your head.

Giggling, you turn to Kaz and grab his hand. “Let’s dance,” you say, voice slurred, eyes glinting with something between chaos and pain.

Kaz looks at you with a pointed expression, reluctant, but eventually follows.

From the couch, Ajax watches with wide eyes. “Hey, man…” he starts, already on alert.

Kuni’s still frozen, but only for a second. He finishes what’s left of his bottle and sets it down with a heavy thud and stands up.

“Don’t,” Ajax says under his breath, placing a hand on Kuni’s chest. “Don’t follow them. You’re drunk.”

Kuni doesn’t answer.

You and Kaz reach the dance floor. Amidst the bass pulsing and the people packed around you, in your mind, you have one clear drunk goal.

You start jumping to the beat, loose and unfiltered, dragging Kaz with you. You spin around and tug him closer, too close.

Arms on his shoulders, hips swaying near his. Kaz, ever steady, moves with you but still keeps a proper distance.

“Why are you doing this?” he mutters lowly, trying to catch your gaze.

You just laugh.

Loud. Drunken. Detached.

You don’t answer.

Kaz sighs. “Come on, let’s go bac–“

He’s about to let go and bring you back upstairs until he glances to the side.

Kuni.

Standing stiff at the edge of the dance floor, watching. Jaw clenched. Eyes locked on the space between you and Kaz, like he’s trying to will it away.

Ajax is behind him, trying to pull him back again.

Ah.

Realization hits him.

Kaz sees it now.

He sighs once more.

He knows this isn’t really about him, but he does it anyway.

He lets his hand rest on your waist, pulling your bodies closer. Your arms loop around his neck without thought. Despite being out of it, you can feel the tension between the two of you spike in the air.

Kaz takes it up a notch by slowly inching his face down to yours. You let him.

He doesn’t rush. Instead, he draws it out, lowering his face inch by inch, just enough for your breath to catch. His lips hover dangerously close, not touching, just waiting.

Daring.

And that’s when Kuni shifts.

A flicker of movement.

A reaction.

Ajax tries to hold him back, voice lost in the loud crowd. But Kuni pushes forward.

And before you can process it, a hand wraps around your arm, tugging you firmly, pulling you out of Kaz’s hold.

Your head spins. The crowd blurs. Your heartbeat spikes.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kuni confronts.

Kaz harshly shook off Kuni’s grip on you but kept his tone calm. “Maybe don’t grab her like that.”

“Maybe back the fuck off,” Kuni snaps.

“Oh, now you’re acting like this?” Kaz holds his stern gaze, challenging the other.

A few nearby partygoers paused mid-dance, turning their heads toward the commotion, eyes flicking between the raised voices and the tension unfolding. Some backing up to not get involved. Some were too drunk to care.

Ajax stepped between them, hands up. “Okay, cool it. Not the time–”

“Shut up.” Kuni brushes off Ajax and moves to grab your arm again.

You tug your arm back, voice slurred. “Stop it.”

You look at Kuni, eyes glassy. “You don’t… youu don’t have the right to act like this. You have Mona.” You point at his chest weakly, trying to push him away with your finger.

Fuck. The alcohol is really getting to you.

Kuni’s breath caught.

“You don’t understand,” Kuni speaks lowly.

You wobble a little as you take a step towards him, trying to straighten yourself. But the sheer audacity of what he just said sobers your mind up a bit.

“What?” you ask, still inebriated, but angry.

Don’t understand what?

That he can pull you in just to let go the second it gets real? Acting like he cares, only to vanish when it matters? That he can get back with his past while you mourn your one-sided relationship?

You’ve been trying to get well without him—trying to breathe, move on, forget—but he somehow finds a way to remind you of what once was.

So what exactly are you not getting?

“Why are you eve—”

You barely get the words out before everything crashes down at once.

And then,

You feel a pair of lips on yours.

⟳ BLURRED LINES — PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

You say you’re just friends. You say it every time you leave a party together, every time you wake up tangled in sheets, every time you swear it’s the last time. But habits form, lines blur, and pretending gets harder when jealousy starts to sting.

NOTE i’m posting this without proper proofreading lol i’m scared once i finish this smau and go back to read it, i’ll regret writing it sm. anw so let’s just pretend that mc can hold her liqour so well <3 also happy one month advanced birthday venti!

TAGLIST @joiurz @sketcheeee @mywillt0live @kyouzki @ylapsha45 @eternallykira-143 @bananasquash @kunikissr @swivi @ariesloves @lloversss @b-bbytears @kokoscutie @vi0let-writes @tomsishere @franaby @scaraenthusiast1 @iloveescara @usagiarchive @ilovecats-26 @quiechee @snetr @axquella @tatsuomii @lalalaloveallmydays @liyahbug @feiherp @jinjjjia @automaticpatroltragedy @mysterypotatoink @zuhahearts @adres-tia @ssetsuka @strwbrrybbpop @sesamemin @blvdmrcnry @aspinny @jiminscarmex @sammybeefangirls @lxkeeeeee @yu-yumii @linasxoxo @quiet-place-for-thoughts @randomhumans-blog @aaudreys @lesbi-snail @jayzioxx @meowpmzai @s-f-rants @cosmic-rainestorm @honey-and-sweetdreams @vincelikestomince @mono-dontidae @simeonmybabygirlicious @gugumioooo [50/50]

if your name is in bold, that means i can’t tag you

I feel like people don't talk enough about depressed s/i (despite all us being mentally ill lol) so here's some prompts!!

Imagine your f/o drawing a comforting bath for you, scrubbing at your back and threading their hands through your soapy hair

Imagine your f/o making a soothing and healthy meal for you

Imagine your f/o letting you sleep in as they do chores around the house for you

Imagine your f/o gently replacing your caffeinated drink with soothing tea

Imagine your f/o massaging your back and pushing out any pops from your tense body

Imagine your f/o helping scrape off any makeup from your face or change you or of your clothes

Imagine your f/o doing any skincare routine for you if you feel too exhausted to do it

Imagine your f/o reminding you to take off your binder if you're trans and helping with any needles or necessities

Imagine your f/o reminding you to take your pills before you leave or head off to bed

Imagine your f/o taking you out to a quiet restaurant or cafe if you're a bit more energized

Imagine your f/o praise your body up and down or fawn over your personality if you feel insecure

Imagine your f/o rubbing your hand or offering silent comfort as you rant about your annoying day or how you've been feeling

Imagine your f/o rapidly decorating your face with kisses to block out your tears

Imagine your f/o waking you up early for breakfast and watching the sunrise together

Imagine your f/o renting out one of your favorite movies and making some popcorn as you curl together underneath a blanket

Imagine your f/o reading you a book or humming you off to sleep, their hands unconsciously intertwining with yours

Imagine your f/o kissing at the scars on your wrists or thighs, or anywhere of that matter, and murmuring against the skin how happy you make them

Imagine your f/o saying how proud they are of how far you've come and loving you will never feel like a bore

Your f/o loves you. They love you and they'll never get tired of it! No matter how much time or space you need, they're not afraid to shout it out!!

In conclusion. Shout out to all my depressed s/i and go do any of the things I mentioned! Go take a walk or call your friends or talk about how long you've been clean. You are worth it and I looooveee all of you so so soo muchh🫶🫶🫶

Yandere Seven Deadly Sins

♡ TW: a lot of different stuff today, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, stalking, gangbang, harsh language, sexual exploitation, bondage, zero holes safe, and more, read at your own risk

♡ FEM reader

Pride is an artist, and you, poor dear, are lucky enough to be his muse.

You’d caught his eye one day simply by coincidence while working your part-time job as a barista.

And though it had been a rather unorthodox request—between balancing school and work and constantly finding yourself both strapped for cash and strapped for time—you’d decided to quit and take him up on his offer—as what he was offering was about twice what you could make at the cafe anyway.

He’s not that much older than you, but he’s old money. And while you're stuck in community college, he goes to an elite art school—which he doesn’t even show up to, 'cause why would he? They can't afford to kick him out anyway, given his father’s donations make up half of their yearly budget.

And so he's free to self-study as much as he wants.

Yeah... he’s a little too used to getting what he wants—exactly how he wants it—without delay. So when you struggle to come to your sessions on time due to having to take the bus to the other side of town, he decides to solve it by buying you a car. And when he doesn’t feel like that’s sufficient enough, he buys you an apartment right above his own studio. And when you try to reject, he only has three concise words for you.

“Don’t be stupid.”

The way he says it leaves very little up for debate. In fact, it leaves you mute each and every time. 

It was nice in the beginning—you didn’t protest to anything other than his overpriced gifts. You were flattered and blushy and giddy and more than happy to sit pretty for him for hours at a time while he sketched and sculpted and painted and whatnot. It was essentially nothing in comparison to the luxuries he gave you in return.

But you think, at some point along the way, he must have forgotten that he only owns the artworks he makes of you—not you yourself.

“N-naked?” you stutter, looking at him wide-eyed where he stands in his usual apron—flecked with the proof of your countless sessions. Honestly, it was getting to be a little strange posing for him in a room stuffed with a myriad of sketches, paintings, and statues of yourself. Hadn’t he had enough?

“I can’t capture you correctly when you wear all these rags,” he says—clinically, though with a pinch of impatience just shy of vexation—eyeing you from head to toe, almost with a look of disgust while beholding your clothes, despite being the one who’d bought them. “They obscure everything. So take them off.”

You knew he’d probably had about a hundred models undress for him, and stand here—old, young, men, women—you knew it probably didn’t mean much to him. He probably regarded it the same way he does everything—without even batting an eye. However…

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do that…” You fiddle with your fingers, standing there, still dressed despite him standing ready at his easel, foot-tapping while waiting for you, already with a stick of charcoal between his fingers. 

“Why are you making a fuss? You think I haven’t seen a naked body before?” he jokes, but without humor—no, rather strictness as if you’re wasting very precious time. “This is standard practice—don’t make it anything than what it is.”

There he goes again with those very final words that make you feel all in all kind of silly.

You bite your lip and mull it over before ever-so-begrudgingly uttering a weak little, “Okay…”

You suppose he was right. This is a job, and it’s just nudity—just another shape in the eyes of an artist—it doesn’t mean anything—is what you tell yourself while you undress. Still, you can’t help but feel flush—heart pounding in your chest as you fold your clothes all neatly for some other nervous reason. 

“Resume the pose,” he says—almost like a drill sergeant. And you jump into place, timidly rushing over to the chaise where you lie down like before.

This does feel like it would be a better painting, you admit. More reminiscent of Renaissance art and such. Not that you know much about it, but thinking back to field trips through the museum, you seem to remember having seen plenty of portraits of naked ladies lying on pretty but uncomfortable sofas just like this.

He seems very invested, at least. A deep furl between his brows, nearly scowling at you while he works—though you’ve come to learn that it’s just his concentration face.

After a while, he sets his charcoal down and wipes his blackened hands on his apron.

You sit up, asking, “Are you done?” All but ready to leap from your seat to your clothes and finally cover yourself again.

“No, keep still,” he all but reprimands—voice intense as he stalks across the floor over to you with determination written plainly across his face.

You draw back in place as he rests his knee on the chaise and leans forward. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come and correct your pose, but you couldn’t help but flinch this time around, feeling just a bit too exposed.

His hands are warm and overworked, both dry and a bit clammy all at the same time. You didn’t mind much when you wore clothes, but it felt a bit too intimate now as he touched your bare skin. But you bear with it despite that.

Eyes closed, you repeat that same line from before—it doesn’t mean anything, this is standard practice, it doesn’t mean anything.

It works in calming your breath for a moment, but then he grabs your tit.

You gasp, jolting back while stuttering, “Wha–what are you doing?”

And yet, he keeps his steal gaze just as fixed and unfazed as before, sighing at you as if you were overreacting, before stating rather simply, “Getting a better understanding of your body.” He then reaches toward you again, showing no concern for how you shrink away. “It’s easier to replicate when I know it by hand.”

Again, you let his voice silence you, and again, you closed your eyes and let his hands wander—around your chest, up your neck, down your belly, and then—

“Wait! That can’t be necessary—” you blurt out, this time with your arms and hands shooting forth to distance him.

“Oh, trust me—it is.” Again, he pays you no mind, simply bearing over you with his entitled hands roaming whatever place he so wishes and chooses. Only clicking his tongue at you when you squirm, “Don’t fuss.”

You don’t exactly push him away, though you don’t exactly make his pursuit easier for him—lying there beneath his touches, wiggling and whimpering, though not really protesting either as he feels your slit.

Your fingers curl into his arms, gripping his messy shirt streaked with paint and coal—as his fingers run through your lips, teasing your entrance and your clit. He twists his hand around and presses his thumb down on the pearl after it perks for attention, then enters you with his pointer finger—drawing out wetness before promptly feeding you another.

You bite your lip as they curl and spread within you, testing you out while rubbing firm circles into your clit.

Gingerly, your hips return it, starting to move in tune with his ministrations. Thighs trembling, keeping your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you start to pant—small moans leaving your lips with every breath, feeling it build within you—a small flame at first, nursed until it fills and all but fights for room within you before finally bursting.

“That’s it—that’s the expression,” he purrs—voice much softer than usual—cupping your face with his other hand, holding you steady while taking in those dopey eyes sparkling with pleasure and those parted lips that never dare speak up—eyeing you like he's the proud owner of a prized possession. “Perfect.”

He hums, sounding pleased, then gets off you shortly after, sauntering back to his easel.

“You can get dressed now. I got what I needed,” he states, picking the stick of charcoal up again, ripping the last sketch off for a fresh sheet before starting anew as if nothing had happened.

And you, still lying there, are left just as mute as usual.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Touya, Hawks, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Baro ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi

Wrath is your ex-boyfriend who refuses to get it through his thick skull that the two of you are over.

Any time you talk to another guy, he beats him up—to a fucking pulp, no less. 

He’s always been that way, and still, it wasn’t always like this…

You started dating each other when you were young. He was rough around the edges, and you liked that about him—tattoos from his neck down to his ankles—the type your parents would have a heart attack if you ever brought home.

He was going to be a professional fighter, he’d say—mixed martial arts. He had all the rage and zero technique, but still, he’d land some of the best on their ass all through pure strength of will alone. 

He was near impossible to train, though—always too wired to be able to take any pointers. And that’s why he needed you. You were his reliever. He’d fuck you like it was his last day on earth, and suddenly he’d be able to do anything. Like an enhancement drug, everything would start moving in slow motion, and he could somehow see all the moves of his opponent before they ever made them.

You admit you liked hearing him preach about it. It made you feel important—made you feel as if half the win, or at least some of it, was yours. And when he started raking in the dough as the champion, winning multiple titles across several tournaments, you were more than happy to be his lucky charm and cheer him on from the sidelines.

But then, you had this awful and sudden feeling of being just that—a tool for his success and nothing else. Sure, he’d give you presents—pretty things he thought suited you well—but you hadn’t gone on a date since his career started, nor had you had a proper sit-down dinner together either. He’d stick to his diet regime, be out training at the gym all day, and you’d be home, going about your own business.

And while you were doing that, you’d think—about the nature of your relationship. And what you found is that all it really entails in the end is him demanding a fuck whenever he needed it—before a tournament, before training, before an interview. And then, after coming to that glum conclusion, you can’t help but feel like nothing more than another one of those items he keeps loose in his gym bag.

And those thoughts only got validated when you tried denying him sex for the first time…

You were just curious, really—curious to see what he’d do. If he’d beg, if he’d plead, if he’d say boo, don’t be that way while down on his hands and knees for you.

But of course... he can’t get anything else but angry.

“If you’re not gonna give me the one thing you're useful for, then what the fuck do I keep you around for?” is what he’d said—no, barked. “You think you’re special? If you’re not gonna put out, I might as well go out and find me someone who will.”

He’d fucked off to some other room with a huff and left you standing there. 

And you don’t know, amidst the shell shock and the ache of your heart coming undone... suddenly, you had no idea why you were there or with him or what you were supposed to do—and when you found no answer to any of those questions, it made no sense for you to stay. And so you went to your shared bedroom—or his bedroom, as a matter of fact, which you’d stayed in for the last months—quickly grabbed your things—your things specifically, and not all the other stuff he’d thrown at you—and stuffed it all haphazardly in your bag, then gone out to the entryway to put your shoes on.

That’s when he’d reared his head again with the gall of asking, “Where the fuck are you going?” 

He hadn’t had that same raised tone as before. No, this time it was lowered—frayed—with a touch of urgency and unease as if balancing on the edge of a knife—as if he knew he'd done something wrong and was reaping the consequences and yet still hadn't the balls to simply apologize and correct it.

And so, you hadn’t answered him.

“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” he’d stated then, coming closer, ready to grab your arm with that hint of alarm in his voice increased. “Hey, I asked you fucking a question—”

That’s when you’d twisted around and slapped him. You’d put all your might into it as well, though you doubt it compared to much of what he’d felt in the ring. 

And still, he’d looked at you as if he’d just lost all his titles. 

He hadn’t said anything else after that—just stood there with his mouth agape as you opened the door and slammed it shut behind you. In fact, you don't think he even dared do so much as take a breath.

You’d gone and crashed at a friend's and rethought your life. There was no way you could ever go back, after all—not after what he’d said. Treating you like a stay-at-home whore. Who the fuck does he think he is?

What an asshole—you'd tried convincing yourself as you cried yourself to sleep…

The days and weeks after were nothing if not fucked up and toxic, to say the least. You’d go out to have a fun time and try to forget about him, but he’d always show up out of the blue to ruin everything—being his usual douche self. 

Though… you can’t exactly claim to be any better than him—not after finding yourself in bed with his number-one up-and-coming rival.

Of course, it ends up all over the news—big headlines plastered on every gossip platform pushing your private affairs for all to see—a real media circus if there ever was one.

You end up back in his apartment. To talk, he’d said—a pretense you had a hard time believing in. He’s never been one to talk much. Honestly, you don’t know why you even bothered coming over when he asked. There might even be a chance he’ll kill you. This is how most homicides start, after all.

The two of you sit in silence for a couple of minutes. You look off to the side, waiting for him to speak because fuck knows you have nothing to say. 

Meanwhile, he just stares at you—his big, hulking body leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands braided before his face. It’s the type of posture he’ll have when sitting in the corner of the ring—he’s got that same look in his eyes, too, deadset on you.

It makes you a little nervous, actually—maybe he really does plan on killing you.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks suddenly.

You almost scoff—almost roll your eyes, but you end up simply returning his dead glare. “Is that really what you asked me here for?”

He doesn’t answer that question. He just keeps staring at you.

You huff out a sigh, “I don’t know, maybe I just wondered what it would be like to be fucked like a woman for once and not someone’s toy.” 

You don’t know why you decided to take it there when you both know why you’d done it. What other fucking reason would there be other than to get back at him? It’s a stupid question to begin with, and so you give it a stupid answer in return. And you won’t deny it feels fucking good—seeing him like this. Five o’clock shadow, eyebags, and uncut, disheveled hair. 

He looks like a wreck, and rightfully so. Fuck knows what a mess you’d been before you finally managed to drag yourself out of bed. Funny what the single simple thought of revenge can do for someone so lost.

He scrapes his thumb down his jawline, over his stubble—a deep sigh running through him as he leans back on the couch. Offering no other reaction as he says, “I can sit here and act threatened, but you and I both know he was shit compared to me.”

He throws his arms up against the headrest, chin tipped up. Thinking he can hide it, thinking you can’t see right through him—to how hard he’s fighting to upkeep the poker face. 

He’s forgetting who his opponent is.

“I know you, babe—I know your body. And there's no fucking way some shitstain you just met–”

“His dick was bigger,” you interrupt—face blank because two can play that silly game, and you do it better.

He’s shut up for a moment—you can see a vein pulse, but it’s quickly stifled, and he smirks instead, snickering despite his grit teeth, “Sorry, that must'a hurt given how much you cry with me.”

This time, you don’t refrain from scoffing and rolling your eyes, “That's all you have to say? Thought you were a fighter.”

“You want me to get jealous? Is that it?” he accuses then, starting to crack, throwing your scoff back at you, “Tch—should've fucked somebody important then.”

This time, you skip the eye-roll and flat-out laugh instead, “I'll keep that in mind. Next time, I'll call up your dad-”

That did it—got him out of his seat and everything. “Shut your mouth.” Standing big and hunched, all muscles and fury.

And you react in kind. Glad that you’re finally getting somewhere. “Make me.”

"You're fucking–" He clenched his fist in the air, scrunching his face in frustration, withholding a growl before releasing a heavy sigh instead.

Dropping his arms, shoulders slumping—hanging his head the same way whilst mumbling under his breath, “Fuck this… fuck this entire thing.” 

And just as quickly as he’d sprung to his feet, he flopped down on the couch again. 

“I don't wanna play games…” He looks up at you—now with the look of a starved and beaten dog. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

He reaches out slowly—big hands cradling your thighs, pulling you towards him gently, and you let him—put off by that strange new look in his eyes.

“You can fuck half the world, and I'd still only want you.”

It’s an odd confession. Unexpected coming from him. You’d anticipated more of a fight, not whatever this is. Looking at you with glossy eyes on the verge of tears. Suddenly, you feel kind of mean, struck with this sense of guilt for having reduced him to such a state.

“Don't take the high road. It doesn't suit you,” you declare, though without much bite.

And he just sighs, “Fuck that, we’re even now.” Pulling you even closer still—into his lap—he makes you straddle him. Forehead to forehead without kissing you yet. “So, are you gonna let me fuck you, or are you really gonna make me beg?”

And though you would kind of like to see what he’d look like on his knees, the sight of him like this was good enough proof that he’d learned his lesson despite it not being an apology.

Besides, he'd been all too right when he’d said the other guy couldn’t fuck you like him.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kyotani, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Shido ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Uvogin

Sloth is a street urchin.

You volunteer at the homeless shelter and can’t help but feel extra sorry for him. He’s only around your age—so young yet with no future to speak of.

This winter, given it’s going to be an especially harsh one, all volunteers have been asked if they have any spare room they can be so kind as to give to those less fortunate. And though you’re not that well off yourself, you still have an extra room you’ve only been using as storage.

So, unable to look the other way, you decide to clean it out, get a bed, and host him.

You took precautions first, naturally—just to be safe. But, from what you could tell, he’s neither a drug addict nor has any criminal record to speak of. No, he’s just another abandoned kid who'd society had failed.

This is the least you can do to correct its wrongs.

And, of course, he falls in love with you for it. Not only do you give him a place of rest—but you make him warm food, give him fresh clothes, do his laundry, draw his bath, watch movies with him every night, and always ask him if he has everything he needs. You even cut his long, shaggy hair for him and give him luxuries such as face-lotion. 

You’re a saint, too good for a filthy sinner like him, but he’ll never let you know that... No, your pity feels too nice—taking such good care of him—he’s going to leach off of you and your honeycomb heart for the rest of his life if he can help it.

He doesn't look too bad after he cleans up, and after a few more weeks of eating well and getting enough rest—he stops lurching and starts standing up straight, looking lanky and lean with muscle—at which point you can’t deny he’s even a little hot. You know… in that scrappy sort of way.

You feel weird about it, of course—guilty even. He’s a homeless guy you’re housing—you’d be nothing if not downright evil if you took advantage of him. But after a few weeks of settling in, he starts feeling like more of a normal roommate and not a stranger. And with that familiarity, you both lose the distance and become more lax and loose around each other—wearing less, talking casually, not afraid to brush up against each other, and before you even know it, you find yourself folded in half beneath him on the living room couch.

You don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into—but his cock’s so big he’s pounding the sense right out of you with every thrust.

He’s not even going fast. No, rather slow, actually—taking his time as if savoring it. But that doesn't take away from the pleasure bubbling up inside of you where his strokes hit so heavy, resting deep within, so fulfilling that it all but replaces your better judgment with the sole need to squeeze him with all you've got.

“Mh, you’re pussy’s so nice and warm—I could stay inside you forever.”

You’re so wet it’s ridiculous—like never before—like you’re the one who’s been starved and neglected and not the other way around. Getting your breath all but knocked out of you, getting fucked so utterly full, he’s making you kick your feet and curl your toes in the air, bucking your hips back into him like you’re desperately begging for more.

He’s got your knees hooked over his arms, keeping you neatly pressed under him. “You’re so good to me—so, so sweet, you must be the sweetest girl in the whole entire world. My guardian angel.” 

All you’re able to do is babble and moan in return—misty- and cross-eyed with your dewy face cradled in his hands. 

You just hold onto his wrists while he speaks fondly against your lips, “You saved me when no one else even bothered looking. Let me return the favor—give this pretty pussy all the thanks it deserves.”

When he re-angles and hits you in a different spot, the switch in your lower belly is immediate—making your whole body seize up and shiver, breath shuddering in your throat, followed swiftly by a pulse migrating from your core all throughout your body, tasting oversweet on your tongue enough to make you drool. 

He locks lips with yours, slurping your spit up sloppily and keeping himself fully sleaved as you peak—feeling your wet, gummy walls tighten and flutter, rippling along his length like a rush of kisses. 

Then, right before it fully dies down, he picks up the pace again and rekindles it—because fuck knows he’s well-rested and over-due and the farthest thing from done with you just yet.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Suna, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Togame

Gluttony is a five-star chef. 

You start off as a waitress at his restaurant. And yet, he’s the one who developed an appetite—for you and your pleasing smile and that busy-bee swing you have in your hip as you hop around from table to table. 

He licks his lips at the sight of you more than he does the food he makes. He even had the uniforms altered in your image—made the skirts shorter and shirts tighter.

He's utterly shameless, but who can blame him? You’re such a little bite-sized treat—he just has to taste you.

And taste you, he most certainly does. 

For breakfast and for brunch and lunch and dinner and supper, as well as a midnight snack.

“Your pussy juice is my favorite,” he groans from between your legs.

Fat-muscled chef’s arms, tattooed with all types of silly patches, curled tightly around your thighs, keeping you close despite those times you try and push away when it gets to be a little too much—because fuck knows he doesn’t have the same reservations. Nose and tongue and chin deep in your slit, slurping you down while filling you up with his words, “I want to flavor every meal I make with you.”

You keep a hand over your face, kissing your knuckles, sometimes with a bite—whimpering pitifully, “Gross…”

Of course, you can’t help but cringe when he says things like that. He’s your boss, after all, not a porn actor. Still, you don’t say it with much conviction. It’s just that you get so embarrassed you don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles, still with his face buried. “Don’t be childish.” Words muffled as he doubles down on his efforts of sucking on your clit like a piece of candy.

“I’m not,” you whine. “You're just weird.”

He smacks off of you at that, a refreshing sigh leaving him rugged and raspy, a devilish look in his eyes as if he’s about to eat you for real. “I’m a world-renowned chef—are you implying I don’t know my flavors?”

Everything in your gut coils with anticipation, nearly rumbling with need, while he pulls your lower half up and even closer—face glossy with the way he’d gorged himself already—licking his teeth now as he refocuses on your clit alone.

Flattening his tongue on it while he speaks, sounding like some type of beast, “I’ve tasted everything the world has to offer. And I'm telling you, this pretty little thing between your legs is the best there is.”

You can’t stand looking up at him. Beyond embarrassed, you hide your face with both hands. Mumbling out a weak, “Pervert...”

Again, he snickers, shaking his head as if he’s ripping into flesh when he’s really just got his tongue out—straight motorboating your poor pussy.

When done, he drops you onto the bed again, grinning while replying to your insult, “Can’t argue with that,” before promptly kissing and licking up your belly—with fingers replacing his tongue, pumping you on his knuckles, getting you ready. 

He groans when his mouth reaches your chest, lips wrapped around a nipple, “If only these titties had milk. I could feast on you from every position.”

You don’t know if you should giggle or grumble—he’s such a baby—and a spoiled one at that. But really, his fingering is making it difficult to do anything but stammer and try and keep it together, “We talked about this—I’m not taking hormones just to breastfeed you, you weirdo.”

He whines then, “Please—it’s my only wish in the entire world—I need it.”

You struggle to argue, feeling like you’re under siege—an onslaught set out to make you breathless. “Well—” you pant, gritting your teeth and bearing it. “We can’t always get what we want.”

“Oh, I’ll see about that.” He takes it as a challenge, this time really locking his lips around your nipple and suckling—releasing just briefly to say, “I bet if I suck on these babies enough, they’ll give me what I want.”

He keeps his fingers working diligently while at it—used to multitasking—curling and spreading them out within you, pumping you so fast, you barely have the time to beg him to “Stop that—” before you’re already shaking and cumming for what must be the seventh time already.

He laughs breathily, kissing your teat goodbye as he lifts himself up again. Pulling his fingers out of you, he brings them to his lips and blithely sucks them off. 

“You know I can’t stop, dear. I’m so hungry—I’m ravenous.”

You watch him from over the tips of your fingers. So hot and mortified you think you’re soon to pass out. Breathing heavily behind your hands, muttering, “You’re a glutton—that’s what you are.”

Again, he just cheerfully snickers, bowing down to your halfway-hidden face with a smile. “I hardly see how it’s my fault I can’t get enough of you.” 

He spreads your legs again and finds his place between them.

“You’re the one who got me hooked—so you better take responsibility for it.”

♡ BNHA – Kirishima, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Todo ♡ HQ – Bokuto, Ukai ♡ BLLK – Baro, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma ♡ HxH – Uvogin ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

Lust is your boss. He's the owner of the strip club where you work, your pimp when money’s tight, as well as the porndirector of all your lovely little films.

Yeah, you might as well have a tramp stamp of his name on your ass, the way he practically owns you…

He's around ten years older and has basically taught you all about sex from when you were only a fledgling in the industry. You live at his studio above the club since he keeps all your money in a bank account under his name, calling you his little sugarbaby and telling you you’ll get an allowance and that you can get more if and when you ask him nicely and tell him what it’s for. 

“Don’t be a brat, baby. You know how I hate it when you're a bad girl,” he says when you raise the topic of moving out, treating it as if you’re a child threatening to run away from home.

“I don’t belong to you. Give me what you owe me.”

Honestly, you have no idea where you got the courage. 

But is it courage? Or is it just plain stupidity? Because, though you’re increasingly more terrified as you quickly watch him lose his temper, it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. And so, if you knew this is what was going to happen—why the fuck would you put yourself through it?

Must be madness.

“I give you everything, don't I? Food, clothes, a home,” he chastises, bearing over you while you’re down on scuffed knees, holding your wrist in a bruising grip and your face just as fiercely—nearly tearing the skin off your cheeks with the bite of his nails.

“And still, you have the fucking nerve to act like a goddamn bitch.”

You hiccup on sobs, spluttering out a desperate “Please—I’m sorry–”

"You and your entire slut body belong to me, you understand that?"

"Yes-yes—please—I'm sorry! You're right! I belong to you! I'm sorry!"

That seems to calm him just a bit—at least enough to take the bite away from his voice, now cooing at you in an ugly mocking attempt at sweetness, “Yeah, you do every single little thing I ask. ‘Cause if you’re not gonna behave like a good girl, I have no other choice but to treat you like a bad one.”

He lets your audience be rowdier than usual that night, allowing them to slap and grab, then forces you to have an extra rough shoot afterward—with tighter bondage, more toys, bigger guys making use of you like a piece of meat, smacking and choking you as they find out how many cocks your holes can fit, every last one finishing on your face.

Then, when you’re all done and all used up for the day, he brings you upstairs—home, sweet home—where he treats you to some much-unwanted after-care...

You shiver and shake despite the hot water. Sitting in the bathtub, laying back with your spine against his chest, feeling thin like a sheet of paper, all crumbled up and torn—sniffling and sniveling as the after-shock of the day still ricochets through you like wind through a hollow husk.

“The shoot today was rough, huh?” he drawls, washing you with his own hands. Stroking your poor sore cunt despite how it makes you whimper. “Yeah... was it a little too rough for you, hm?” 

You don’t do anything in return—but your body language says enough on its own, and he allows it to be your answer.

Sighing heavily, he wraps you up with both arms and squeezes you tighter, chin resting atop your head.

“You know… if you’d just be my good girl, I’d give you a good girl to-do list. Let you stay here all day, do some house chores while I’m gone, make love when I get home, hm? Doesn’t that sound better?”

He traces a welted bruise on the inside of your thigh, one you got from the shoot—roughly the shape of a hand, and a dozen more others layered on top of it. It makes you suck in a hiss.

“But if you’re gonna be a bad girl, then this is what you get.” 

He settles into the grove of your neck, purring against your ear. “Are you gonna be my good girl from now on? Hm?”

You bite your lip, breath shuddering while nodding pitifully.

And still, he insists, “Say it so I can hear it.”

The water’s gone cold around you—just like everything else, as you say, “I’ll be a good girl.”

He seems pleased, at least. Nuzzling against your cheek with chin stubble and a smirk, asking, “Yeah? Whose?”

Your voice is small and pathetic, nearly a wince, “Yours.”

He groans then, “That’s right. My good girl.” Lifting his hand from the water, he takes hold of your chin, fingers pressing into those designated sore spots as he angles your face toward him and gives you a heartless kiss before growling against your lips, “And don’t you ever fucking dare forget it again.”

After he’s finished washing you up, he carries you out to bed. It's one you fear much more than the one down in the studio.

Because in this bed, just like every night in this hellhole… he starts teaching every last one of your holes who they belong to.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Reo, Shido, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

Envy is your enemy. 

Or, well, no, he’s not your enemy, but you’re most certainly his enemy. 

You’re just not aware of it because of what a ditzy and clueless airhead you are. 

But fuck, he can’t stand you—you and your fake personality, acting all bubbly and sweet, cheering him on, always telling him to do his best—condescending little bitch acting like everyone’s friend—like he doesn’t see through you right to your rotten core. You don’t fool him—he knows you’re as bad as the rest of them, so just quit pretending like you’re better or something.

You’re under the false impression that the two of you are friends. You just think he has a strange sense of humor, but you laugh politely even when you don’t always get the joke.

Well, maybe it’s not so much politeness, but the fact that you have a big fat hopeless crush on him.

It infuriates him. He throws your niceties back in your face as insults, and you just laugh. How low do you think of him? Honestly? How tall is that high horse of yours that you have your head constantly in the clouds?

Poor you… you just think he’s so cool—always saying what he feels like, not a lame people-pleasing goodie-two-shoes such as yourself. You can’t help but follow him around like a lost puppy all day long. You’re always making sure you sit next to him during lectures—heart almost beating out of your chest, holding back from squealing when your prayers are answered, and the two of you are finally paired for a project together. 

It really feels like the universe is on your side, and so you just can’t stop yourself from going the full mile—making chocolates and preparing him a hand-written love letter. You know he’ll think you’re a little silly, that he’ll make fun of you for it—but you can’t expect to get anywhere without putting your heart on the line, can you? For a chance at love, the risk must be worth it!

Yeah, you’re such a hopeless romantic—you feel it as he punches his fist through your ribs when he rips out your poor heart and stomps all over it. 

“I fucking get it already! You’re little miss pretty and popular. Would you quit rubbing it in my face, or do I really have to spell it out for you? I. Don’t. Fucking. Like. You,” he seethes through grit teeth. “Go pick another one of the hundreds dying to be your partner and leave me the fuck alone!”

You shrink where you stand, shocked doe-eyes rapidly welling up like a flood, lips wobbling as you choke on your words, “Oh… okay… I’m sorry… I just… I–”

“You-you-you what?” he barks at your stuttering. “Spit it out already! What the fuck do you want?”

“I just-I-I just always thought you were amazing. So…”

His face contorts, scrunches up in a grimace different from anger, though not without it, as he spits out, “What the fuck are you on about now?”

But his voice is a little diminished now, with confusion usurping the place of his hate, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts because… what did you actually just say?

“I just, I really like you–” you repeat, hanging your head, only barely able to mumble through the tears blocking your throat. “But I guess I’ve just annoyed you all this time—I’m sorry...” 

Only now does he notice you’re trying to hand him something—a flat little box with a pink note attached. 

“This is for you, but I understand if you don’t want it.” Unable to look up, you just stretch your arms out until it gently bumps into him. 

Baffled, he accepts without thinking.

“I’m sorry—I’ll leave you alone from now on.” And then you run off, disappearing with a sob that all but shoots him through the chest.

And slowly bleeding out, he remains standing there, eyes glued to where you'd left—mouthing the word what…

What did you just say? 

Like? Him?

Did he mishear you, or did you just confess? 

No way—that can’t be it, right? 

But what the fuck is this heart-shaped letter, then?

"What the fuck did I just do?"

You look like you’ve been crying your eyes out all night the next day—your usual bubbly personality reduced to a ghost in a shell, walking the hallways like a zombie, slowly and without purpose, eyes on the ground—letting everyone bump into you.

You don't even so much as bat an eye when someone runs straight over you, fully knocking all your books and folders onto the floor. 

You just get on your knees and start recollecting them.

A newfound hate flares up within him at the sight. “Hey, you!" He stomps over. "Watch where the fuck you’re going next time, dipshit.” 

You look up at the sound of his voice—flinching before you notice it’s not directed at you.

No, rather, he’s got a boy up against the lockers, lifted by his collar onto the tip of his toes. Face only a few inches from his, glaring at him harsher than he’d glared at you yesterday.

“Now apologize to the girl before I punch your ugly face in.”

You stare at the altercation with large eyes, only able to blink as the boy who’d bumped into you starts spluttering on the verge of tears, “I–I’m sorry–I didn’t see you! Sorry!”

You don’t answer. Shocked and speechless, you remain on the floor in confusion, asking yourself why’s he doing this? Didn’t he cuss you out yesterday, or was it all a bad dream like you'd hoped?

He throws the boy on his way, then gets on his knees down alongside you—proceeding to help you gather your things.

You only watch on in wordless bewilderment until he starts muttering something under his breath.

“I’m sorry I made you cry yesterday.” He stacks all your things in a neat pile next to you while continuing his apology. “And for being an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.”

He keeps his eyes fixed to the floor where his hands busily roam around until there was nothing more to retrieve.

He then hesitantly looks up at you—eyes flittering—a little too ashamed to hold your gaze as he says, “Your chocolates were really good.”

That’s when your heart starts fluttering again—as if new life was just breathed in and revived it.

He can see it as well—how you light up like a rekindled candle.

“They were?” you gush, shuffling closer on your knees all excitedly—face brighter than the sun on cloudfree summer day.

It blinds him—nearly stunts him, only able to utter a meager, almost shy, “Yeah.”

He then slings his bag in front of him and pulls something out.

A lunchbox. 

“I made you these..." he swallows thickly. "As an apology…”

He’s utterly red—from the tips of his ears to his neck and entire face, even his hands.

“For me?”

“Yeah..." He reaches it over stiffly. “They’re not as good as yours, though...”

You eagerly accept despite his nervousness, popping the lid off where the two of you sit—right there in the middle of the hallway floor, with other students walking around you like water passing two rocks in a stream.

His blush grows ever more intense as you pick one of his crudely made chocolates up, not even examining it before throwing one into your mouth.

It was his first time making anything that required a recipe. And they most certainly did not come out well, but he figured the embarrassment was part of his atonement.

He didn’t actually expect you to try them.

But there you are—lying through your teeth, saying, “I think they’re great!”

He can only scoff out a soft laugh. “Of course you would.” 

Turns out, you really are just a nice person after all. You don’t have the heart to be mean at all, do you? Yeah, you don’t even have it in you to feel any of the ugly things he keeps inside. In fact, he bets you don’t even have the means of knowing such ugly things exist.

That must be what he’s envied about you all this time…

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shinso ♡ JJK – virgin Sukuna, Megumi ♡ HQ – Tsukishima ♡ BLLK – Rin, Sae ♡ DS – Genya

Greed is your clingy childhood friend. 

He doesn’t want to share you with anyone and gets viscerally jealous each time you hang out with others. It’s as if he feels boils rising beneath his skin, simmering with a violent need to kill anyone and everyone you ever come into contact with—even if it’s just a passerby who accidentally brushes against you.

He can’t stand other people—how they think they can just come along and be your friend when he’s been your friend since you both were in diapers. What? Do they really expect him to share you with them? Just like that? No way. You’re his best friend. They should all go find themselves their own.

Actually, the term best friend doesn’t even really cut it… It’s a little too childish. You’ve both grown out of it. And besides, it never really fully encompassed what the two of you actually are to each other. You’re so much more than just friends, after all. Yeah, what you really are is soulmates. Yeah, that sounds more right. Soulmates.

And the bond between soulmates is like the bond between an addict and their favorite drug. You wouldn’t ask an addict to share his favorite drug, now would you? No. Not unless you’re prepared to either kill or be killed.

But he can’t say he blames them for wanting you, either. Of course, they’d want you—anyone would.

He pities them, actually. And you make it no better for the poor suckers, stringing them all along—acting as if there’s enough of you to go around. Well, there just isn’t. And even if there was, he shouldn't have to share you with anyone.

Yeah, the problem here is you. You don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand that you’re his. 

Well… seems like he’ll just have to teach you once and for all, now, doesn’t it?

“What’s… this?” you mumble groggily once you wake, sluggishly tugging your bound wrists—not yet aware of what they are. Your eyes blow wide once you do—voice turning sharply frantic, “What’s happening?”

“We’re having a play date like we used to.” He comes into view just as the panic sets in—and though his face has all the familiarity to be a sign of comfort, his words evoke no such feeling within you.

“Remember? How we used to play house?" he says. "Granted, we're a little older now… so I thought I’d change it up a bit.”

He stands before the bed you’re currently lying tied down on. But he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s something very wrong about all of him. Seeming way too at ease for the situation.

“Instead of making mud pies…” he continues. “I'm gonna fuck you and give you a creampie.”

Your heart lurches up into your throat at his words, and you choke. Your clothes from the day have been removed, leaving you naked. You spot them lying on the floor in a heap while you spastically look around for clues as to “What the fuck’s going on? This isn’t funny–”

“Shut up,” he says—his demeanor still as nonchalant as he climbs on top of you and pushes something past your lips, nudging it deep down in your throat.

Feeling it as it scrapes your tongue, you can tell it’s your lace panties, and you gag—shaking your head, trying to dislodge both it and his fingers, but he holds you steady.

“I have things to say. So, be a good friend and listen.”

You start crying then—brows cinched as you look up at him in terror, full-tremoring now while struggling under his weight and the all-too-intimate way he starts touching you.

“I'm glad you’re still a virgin…” he suddenly says, running his hands down your breasts, catching your nipples between his fingers.

You twist in disgust, halfway convinced you’re having some godawful fucked up dream—that this just can’t be happening—but somehow, at the same time, something deep in your gut that’s been lying there for a while ignored by your kind heart doesn't find it completely without warning, having felt how strange he'd been acting as of late—always looking at you a certain way and saying certain concerning things—certain concerning things he’s saying right now, “I’d kill all those little toy friends of yours if you were ever so stupid to let them have it.”

He glares at you—looking every bit angry, and yet you can’t describe it exactly. Something about that look in his eyes makes him seem like a complete stranger to you. Then he cracks a smile, and it makes it all the worse. Bowing down until his forehead presses clean against yours, noses rubbing against each other.

“But I think you knew. Didn’t you? Knew how it wouldn’t be right. Knew it was mine to take.”

He shuffles backward until he’s separating your thighs instead of straddling your waist. And you croak with an especially full-chested sob as his touches travel further down along with him—with savage goosebumps running rampant across your body once he rubs his thumb crassly over your slit.

“You see?” his breath shudders in his throat—thick with something mortifying that’s bound to ruin you forever. “It’s so happy to see me.”

You whine and scramble, trying to force your thighs shut—but he has the upper hand—keeping you spread with his body while two of his fingers slip through your lips and bully themselves inside.

He pumps them in and out with zero regard to how you recoil—only sneering at the way you worm in disgust, “At least your pussy understands where its loyalties lie.”

It’s not long before his ministrations draw wetness, and he pulls them out—inspecting them in the dim light he’s left on. Rubbing the digits together before putting them in his mouth.

You close your eyes with a whimper while listening to the sickening sounds of him sucking them clean.

He puts both hands around your neck next. He doesn't squeeze hard, but your breath stops nonetheless. Eyes stinging with both spent and still-welling tears.

“I’m upset with you,” he states, brushing his lips over your parted ones, still stuffed and silenced with your own underwear. “But I’ll forgive you if you apologize and swear to me that you meant it when you said we’d be friends forever.”

That look in his eyes—you still can’t explain it. Desperate, desolate, deranged, and enraged—something downright sick.

“But since you can’t talk right now, you’ll have to prove it some other way...”

One of the hands disappears, and you hear the following sounds of a zipper being undone, then the rustling of his pants being shoved down.

“Cum on my cock, and I’ll know.”

The room tastes of blood and something rotten as he frees his cock and graces your clit.

“Actions speak louder than words anyway, after all, don’t they? So cum on my cock, and I’ll cum in your pussy, so we can seal our friendship again—just like the time we married each other on the playground.” 

He enters you, and you think you might just die in the mix of horror and grief.

And yet you remain perfectly alive—even as he rips through you and splits both you and your heart apart.

“You can think of this as the honeymoon,” he whispers. “Always and forever, happily ever after, never apart.”

♡ BNHA – Deku ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tendou ♡ BLLK – Bachira ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Is it just me or everytime I fantasize I make myself nothing like me?

A SEARCH FOR MY ROBLOX GIRLFRIEND

at the ripe age of ten years old, heizou had already found himself a girlfriend. to be exact, his girlfriend was some girl he had found on roblox while playing roblox top model. unfortunately for heizou, his mom di not take this news lightly. fearing he was getting into dangerous situations, she confiscated his gadgets and grounded him, effectively making him loose contact with his beloved girlfriend. years later, heizou decides to rummage through his childhood bedroom and that ends with him finding his old ipad. deciding to log into his old roblox account, he finds messages upon messages from his childhood lover dating to months after he was grounded. now an adult, heizou is determined to find the person behind said account.

⭑.ᐟ a heizou x reader smau

⭑.ᐟ warning : might have ooc portrayals, lots of swearing, kys jokes, fem!reader, timestamps don't matter, somewhat innacurate descriptions of uni life, mentions of ittosara, kukifei, (🎞️) means its a written part!

⭑.ᐟ status : on-going w/ slow updates until may

⭑.ᐟ taglist : opened !

prologues — the start of it all

suspect profile – zoo runaways & asylum breakouts

case file 1 - elimination method

01 . how exactly?

02. doxxing is legal

03.

🤭

They just seem so tired!!!!!

Something's coming...

how do you even use this app 😭😭 anyways, just wanted to show my fanart of sol 💕

(holy he kinda looks like xiao here)

White Day💌🐈‍⬛

𓏲⠀bitter&sweet, florawell ─ wanderer x gn!reader .ᐟ ⋆

rewritten/continuation/long version of this. if you've read this before, you can simply continue after the second(?) divider (I just changed a few words here and there) ! if you haven't, you can read it normally since it contains the original part !!

warnings: hanahaki disease , mentions of blood , hurt/comfort(?) , open ending !

You didn’t know what was so special about him. (That’s a lie, I’m afraid.)

His tongue was sharp, but on second thought, it wasn’t just that. His eyes, his expressions— everything about him, including himself— were like a blade, often resulting in a shattered heart. (It was not his heart, though; he possessed no such thing.) He didn’t like being around others, except for the Dendro Archon, Lesser Lord Kusanali. An odd dynamic; well, who were you to judge?

He also wasn’t around much, despite being one of the most successful students of Vahamuna. That should have been a good thing, considering his many bad traits.

Yet, it wasn’t good for you.

Because you didn’t think he was that bad in the first place. Okay, maybe he did say hurtful things or rolled his eyes at you with such offense that you cried a lot that night, but some moments made up for it.

Moments when his words softened. Moments when his looks softened. Moments when he softened, even just a little bit.

Those were the moments you held so dear. The moments that were so special about him.

That was why your gaze always sought him out. Your voice got a little louder when he was near—begging to be noticed, even for a mere second. When paired with him on a project, you read his part twice, maybe thrice. You wanted to understand the words he chose more than others, wanting to understand him more than anyone else.

You wanted to be special to him, just as he was to you. You wouldn’t mind even if you gave more than you received, as long as your feelings were acknowledged. Sometimes it felt like they were reciprocated even—

Yet, they weren’t.

Your breath hitched, and a lump settled in your throat, where the garden of love had taken root. Looking at the petals, all bloody and torn, you let the statement sink in.

They weren't.

It seemed his love wasn’t meant for you.

The metallic taste of blood clashed with the freshness of flowers. Ah, was that what longing for him tasted like? The smell was melancholic yet fragrant—a lovely and cruel contradiction. Bittersweet.

Were they rotting from the love you had for a certain wanderer?

Maybe they were.

Not that you were any different.

You had been avoiding him, for weeks now.

It shouldn't have been this difficult to do so. He was not the type to seek people out, much to your dismay. Still, you told yourself it was for the best— believing that if you stayed away from him, the pain would fade.

But why was there still a flicker of hope blooming in your heart for him to call out your name, even just once, when you walked past him in the hallways? More importantly, why did it hurt even more when you were away from him?

You weren’t ready to let go.

Even though every blossom represented a part of your happiness that could never be returned, you still weren’t ready to let go of him.

Not yet.

Not ever.

Your nights were restless; so what? Every second passed with or without him was devastating, so what?

The feelings you harbored for him were much more important than those; it didn't matter that he didn’t need them at all.

Letting out a sigh, you placed the books you carried on the table. The Akademiya was crowded, much like always.

Maybe studying would help clear your head. (It won't. He is the one who fills your thoughts, the one who brightens them.)

You began scribbling meaningless things onto the paper—since all the meaning was reserved for him— when someone sat next to you. You almost flinched at the sound. Looking at the person from the corner of your eye, your breath caught in your throat.

Here he was, next to you.

You wished he would do something, anything. Was he going to talk— maybe?

He didn’t.

Like a reminder that he sat next to you because there were no other seats left, not because he wanted to be there in the first place.

You really didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You just happened to be there, like you always do. It was just a coincidence. You should have walked away, of course. But the topic was about you anyway; it was what you’d been yearning for— his thoughts.

“The person you’ve been with these past months,” Nahida's voice rang out to the Wanderer, “I don’t see them around you much. Are you two okay?”

Curiosity —a desire to learn— was very suitable for the Goddess of Wisdom.

“Hah, what an absurd question,” his snarky reply caught you off guard. “There is no reason for me to engage with insignificant mortals like them.” The Dendro Archon's gaze deepened as if she knew something he didn’t. None of them said anything after that.

Something inside you shattered.

Biting your lip, hoping it would bleed and produce a sensation more explicit than the lump in your throat, you let a few tears fall. For his sake, letting go of your tears and happiness was easy— easier than letting go of him.

Do you really not want to get better?

You do, truly.

But you want to get better with him.

Fate is a cruel thing, isn’t it?

Maybe what you yearned for wasn’t his thoughts. You definitely would have been better off without hearing them.

No matter how much you wanted to make yourself believe you wouldn’t mind if the feelings were not mutual─ it was simply a lie.

They were the best things you had, now the ones that were destroying you. Like him.

You spent the rest of the day thinking of a life without him.

You didn’t want to live like that, of course. Yet you couldn’t live like this anymore.

So you let go.

You let go of him, bidding a farewell, along with the you who loved him dearly.

When you saw him, you felt just as flowers were blooming in your chest─ from excitement. He felt like a scent from a distant memory of your past─ something melancholic yet fragrant. A lovely and cruel contradiction. Bittersweet.

“Have we met before?”

The concept of erasing one’s existence from the universe was not unfamiliar to the Wanderer. For he was the one who experienced it firsthand.

What he didn’t expect was even as the Wanderer, he got forgotten by the world again.

World?

Ah, in other terms─ you.

And maybe, in another universe─ he could have the right to refer to it as “his” instead.

He mumbled a quiet “No.” The word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth; surprisingly, he hates it. You didn't miss how his shoulders dropped slightly.

You are full of surprises, aren't you? Extending your hand to greet him,

“Shall we do the honors, then?”

It's a sweet melody for his ears; surprisingly, he doesn't mind it.

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑⠀ notes below .ᐟ ⋆

𓏲⠀ i feel evil BUHWSDHGUD2EGUD2SUIGU (not proofread, feel free to correct any mistakes if there is any!) .ᐟ ⋆

𓏲⠀in my defense everything is my depression playlist's fault !! also i am kinda proud of this work too ??? so maybe it's not a fault... .ᐟ ⋆

𓏲⠀hope you liked it <33 .ᐟ ⋆

© meritski .ᐟ all rights reserved to me, which means; you can not plagiarize, repost, translate or feed my works to ai .ᐟ

Basically how my hypersexuality got me

basically . . .

do you mind? (repost)

summary. sharing a table with a stranger at a crowded café, only to realize they’re far more interesting than you expected.

characters. xiao, scaramouche, heizou, venti, kazuha x gn!reader (separate)

tags. modern au, fluff, crack

warnings. kind of ooc xiao and kazuha, alcohol in venti's

XIAO

Internally panicking, but he welcomes you to the table with a small nod. He’s the reserved type—the kind to look anywhere but in your general direction just to avoid eye contact. Archons, how many times has he glanced out the window just to stare at that decorative plant? He even counted the leaves.

Social interaction isn’t his strong suit. And it certainly doesn’t help that you’re attractive.

If he had his way, he’d sit in silence, letting the passing seconds fill the space between you. But his own discomfort betrays him. Hands fidgeting under the table, fingers tracing the rim of his cup, gaze flickering to anything but you.

He feigns indifference, arms crossed, posture rigid. 

But then—you speak. Because, for some reason, you find him interesting.

You introduce yourself first, then ask for his name.

His heart stumbles in his chest. He’s unsure if it’s from nerves or the sheer absurdity of the situation. Someone willingly trying to talk to him, despite his obvious attempts to fade into the background.

Though his palms are slightly damp from tension, he keeps his voice steady, his expression unreadable. Flat tone. Unwavering gaze. A carefully maintained air of disinterest.

You frown. A subtle shift, but he notices.

That’s a cue, isn’t it? A signal that you’ll leave him alone now. That’s what he wanted… right?

Then why does something in his chest sink when you simply nod, pressing your lips into a thin line, offering nothing more?

He exhales quietly. Curses himself. He just lost the chance to get to know you.

But this is the first time someone’s been able to catch his attention. So he thinks of a way to redeem himself.

"Oh. Okay." You say in response to his answer, forcing yourself to sound indifferent. But truthfully, you’re embarrassed.

You spent a whole ten minutes bouncing your leg, debating whether or not you should make the first move, only to be met with disappointment after finally mustering up the courage.

You bite your bottom lip and tap your fingers on the table, falling silent. Now, all you can do is wait for the servers to call your order so you can leave. You seriously don’t want to embarrass yourself further in front of this stranger.

“I, uh...”

A voice cuts through your thoughts.

You don’t assume right away that he’s talking to you, so you keep your gaze averted, pretending not to notice.

Then, a cough. Loud enough that you instinctively glance up in concern.

Your eyes widen slightly when you find him already looking at you.

“Yes?” You ask, taken aback that he was referring to you. There’s a flicker of curiosity in your expression, maybe even a bit of hope.

He hesitates. “…I'm sorry.” His voice is quieter this time, almost unsure. “I didn’t mean to come across as cold earlier.”

The shift in his tone is subtle, but you catch it. Gone is the detached, indifferent edge from before.

You smile, relieved. "No, no, don't worry about it! I get like that sometimes too."

He exhales lightly. Almost as if… reassured. After a beat, he offers a small, hesitant smile in return. It’s brief, but it’s there.

It suits him, you think.

It’s cute that he chose to apologize instead of just letting it be. Most people would’ve moved on, unwilling to make things more awkward. But he didn't.

And then—

"I'm not used to people." He pauses. “…Especially ones like you.”

A beat of silence.

You blink. Wait. What?

His own words seem to register a second too late.

You watch as his shoulders tense slightly, his fingers curling into a loose fist on his lap. The tips of his ears are… pink?

Oh.

Oh.

Was that supposed to be a compliment? Was he flirting with you? No way. He doesn’t seem like the flirty type. He’s definitely more socially awkward than you. Maybe he didn’t mean it like that.

But before you can overthink it—

“…If it’s okay with you, may I have your number?”

SCARAMOUCHE / WANDERER

Glares at you menacingly. Like a cat trying to hiss someone away.

Him? Sharing a table? With some random nobody? Absolutely not. This table is his.

Without breaking eye contact, he places his bag on the chair in front of him. A silent warning. Don’t even think about it.

"It's occupied," he deadpans before returning to whatever he was doing.

You, unimpressed, grab his bag and dump it on the table. Then you plop down into the chair, arms crossed, staring him down as if to say: "Try and get me out of this seat, you brat."

His mouth parted slightly, just for a second, before snapping shut. Did you just—? The audacity.

A scoff escapes him as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his glare sharper than ever. His fingers drum against his bicep as he mutters under his breath—something that sounds suspiciously like, "At least you're not completely spineless." Not that he’d ever say it directly.

But since the café is packed and dragging you out by the collar would be frowned upon, he begrudgingly allows it.

For the most part, he ignores you. Or at least, he tries to. You pretend not to notice the irritated glances he throws your way every time you smile at your phone or stifle a laugh.

Then a server approaches.

She sets your drink down and takes a brief look at the two of you. No food orders yet. Her eyes brighten as she leans in slightly, all smiles.

"We actually have a 25% couple's discount for two strawberry shortcakes!"

Silence.

His stare darkens.

He looks at her like she just personally insulted his entire bloodline. If he had one in this universe, anyway. His lips part, undoubtedly to say something cruel enough to make her rethink her entire career.

But before he can, you slap a hand over his mouth.

"That sounds great! We’ll take it!" you chirp, grinning at the waitress as if your life doesn’t currently depend on keeping Scaramouche from verbally eviscerating an innocent employee.

The server’s eyes sparkle with delight as she scribbles down the order. She even hums. 

He looks personally offended.

You heave a sigh as the server finally walks away. Just as you’re about to relax, you feel a vibration against your palm. The glaring stranger is trying to speak, his voice muffled against your hand.

Then, before you can react—

His tongue moves.

He licks your palm.

Slow. Wet. Deliberate.

"Gross!" You yank your hand away, scrubbing it furiously against his sleeve.

He swats you off instantly, recoiling like you just infected him with the plague. "Get your germs off of me!" he snaps.

"You're the one who just licked my hand!" you retort, scandalized.

His scowl deepens. His expression alone speaks volumes.

"The hell was that for? First, you hog my table—"

"I wasn’t hogging it, we needed to share!"

"—interrupting my peace with your presence—"

"I was minding my own business!"

"—and then you have the absolute audacity to make us out as some kind of couple?!"

"Shut up, they might hear you! We’ll lose the discount!" you hiss, glancing around in case the staff overheard. The people in the vicinity gave looks of concern at your direction.

He scoffs. "You have some nerve."

You roll your eyes. So dramatic. Acting like you just ruined his life.

"I had to grab the opportunity. It’s strawberry shortcake."

He clicks his tongue. "That’s your excuse?"

"It’s strawberry shortcake," you repeat as if that alone explains everything.

He huffs, crossing his arms. "Fine. Go eat your stupid cake."

"You don’t want some?"

"I hate cakes."

You blink. Who the hell hates cake?

"Why?"

His eyes narrow. "Why? Because I hate them. I hate sweets in general. Life isn’t sweet. Life is full of bitterness and sorrow. I don’t get how people manage to laugh in this world. It’s annoying."

…Wow. That escalated.

How did a conversation about shortcakes turn into a monologue about the inherent misery of existence?

"What the hell? Who hurt you?" you mutter.

"My mother."

You suck in a sharp breath. 

The words are so blunt, so casually spoken, that it takes you a second to process. Your lips twitch. No. You shouldn’t laugh.

But the longer you stare at his deadpan face, the harder it is to hold back. A chuckle slips out. Then another.

Hey, this guy is kind of funny. He's growing on you.

He gives you a baffled look like you’re the crazy one for finding humor in his trauma dump.

His brows furrow, and for a brief second, his gaze lingers—not in irritation, but in something else. Something almost mesmerized. He mutters something too quiet to catch before looking away, resting his head on his palm.

You inhale deeply, composing yourself. "Fine. I'll eat both cakes, then. I'm the one paying anyway."

He doesn’t respond, just glares at nothing in particular.

Minutes later, the same cheerful server returns with a tray of two servings of strawberry shortcake. Just as you reach for your wallet—

A hand beats you to it.

The stranger slaps down his own cash before you can even open your bag.

The server’s grin widens. "Ah, paying for the date? How chivalrous!" she chimes, her voice far too amused, before skipping away.

You freeze. Wait.

Did he just let her think that?

Your gaze snaps to him, utterly bewildered. He doesn’t even deny it—just grabs one of the plates and starts stabbing the cake with his fork.

"I thought you said you don’t like sweets."

"That’s right," he mutters before taking a grumpy bite.

You narrow your eyes. "Then why—"

He chews, swallows, and then shrugs, avoiding your gaze.

"Would be a real waste of my money if I didn’t enjoy it with you."

HEIZOU

Has been watching you since you entered the café. Not in a creepy way, just subtle, observant, like he’s solving a case. And wow you are stunning. The way your eyes scan the room, looking for an open seat, tells him you’re about to approach him.

He makes his move first.

"Over here!" he waves, voice warm and inviting, like he's an old friend waiting for you. You hesitate, confused. Do you know this guy? But with no other seats available, you accept with a small, grateful smile.

Big mistake. Or maybe the best decision you’ve made today.

Because once you sit, he talks. And flirts. And teases. And somehow, he already knows things about you.

Will ask you all sorts of questions: What's your name? Your age? Your birthday? Your favorite color? Any pets? Exes?

Even taking guesses as to what your answers might be. and he got them all right, if not, then close. But every now and then, he throws in something completely unexpected: 

"What's your ideal type? Is it me?"

"Aside from being pretty, what do you do for a living?"

"Have you ever committed a crime before? Because now you have."  He says while clutching his chest. 

You nearly choke on your drink. Heizou just grins, clearly enjoying himself.

"Alright, your turn. You can interrogate me now," he offers, eyes gleaming with amusement.

And so you do. Because he’s interesting. Charming. Smart. Too smart. And when he leans in slightly, studying your features like he’s committing them to memory, you feel yourself getting drawn in, too.

Heizou hums in thought. "You’ve got the kind of face that belongs in a painting," he muses. "I’d describe it more, but I’d rather see how flustered you get first."

You roll your eyes, trying (and failing) to suppress a smile.

He'd be the type to reach out and take small bites of your food while chatting. He does it so shamelessly that you're impressed, so you just let him.

This boy is so confident with himself, flirting so casually like it's second nature.

He wouldn't go as far as to touch you, of course. He knows his limits and will keep his hands to himself. But he acts so relaxed and friendly with you that you think maybe he's just playing you.

You’re not dumb. You know he’s interested in you.

It’s not like he’s being subtle about it, either. The lingering glances, the teasing smirks, the way his eyes light up whenever you react to his words. It’s obvious.

And sure, you feel the same way. But still. 

Is this how he always approaches strangers? Does he flirt for fun, or does he actually mean to follow through? How many people have fallen for his tricks before?

A thoughtful hum breaks your train of thought. Heizou taps his chin lightly, then suddenly snaps his fingers. A habit you’ve noticed ever since you sat down.

"Your expression tells me you’re doubting my motives. Correct?"

You blink in surprise. Then chuckle softly, shaking your head. Damn, he’s good.

"That’s right. A point for you, detective."

He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Funny you say that. Being a detective is my full-time job."

Your lips part slightly in surprise. He never mentioned that before. But now it all makes sense. The way he reads you like an open book, the way he asks questions so effortlessly, the way he makes it feel like you’re being studied and he’s enjoying every second of it.

"That’s quite… attractive." You admit, cheeks warming slightly.

Heizou leans back in his chair, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself. "You think so?" His grin widens, but there’s a new glint in his gaze now.

"Then allow me to clear up any lingering doubts, sweetheart." He tilts his head slightly, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip.

"I do plan on pursuing you."

Oh.

Your heart stumbles. You were not prepared for him to be that straightforward.

Heizou watches your reaction, clearly amused. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he shakes his head. "Only a true detective can crack the case of this heart theft, you know."

A teasing pause. Then, the final blow.

"And my prime suspect… is you."

VENTI

When you approach him, the faint yet unmistakable scent of alcohol lingers in the air. He’s drunk. In the middle of the day. At a café.

Wait. Do they even serve alcohol here?

His head rests lazily on his folded arms, eyelids heavy, lips slightly parted. If it weren’t for the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders, you’d think he was fast asleep. Beside him, a humble coffee cup sits suspiciously untouched. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you lean in for a peek.

Yep. It’s alcohol.

How the hell did he sneak that in? More importantly, how has no one caught him yet? You glance around, half-expecting an employee to scold him, but they just pass him by like he’s invisible. Maybe he’s a regular here.

Deciding not to wake him, you quietly settle into the seat across from him, giving him space. 

Then, without warning, he jolts awake.

"Oh! Hello, stranger!"

He’s suddenly wide awake. No sluggish blinking, no groggy confusion, just pure, unbothered energy. You flinch at the unexpected enthusiasm.

He doesn’t ask why you’re here. He doesn’t even bother to ask your name. Instead, he jumps straight into conversation as if you’re an old friend who’s been here all along.

And somehow, you go along with it.

With an animated grin, he launches into the most ridiculous stories you’ve ever heard.

"Earlier, I saw this red-haired guy absolutely demolish some blue-haired guy in a fight. It was spectacular! Ehe~!"

You blink. Excuse me?

That’s just one of the things he shares. He never runs out of things to say. Wild, chaotic, oddly fascinating things. Like?? Does he see stuff like that on a daily basis?

And despite nearly passing out five minutes ago, he speaks so effortlessly that you start questioning if he was even drunk to begin with.

Like Heizou, he will also steal some of the pastries you ordered, albeit in a more subtle manner. He thinks you don't notice this lol.

"You've got fine taste in sweets, stranger!" he hums, twirling a fork between his fingers. "Tell me, what's your opinion on wine?"

You blink at the sudden shift in topic but answer with an amused smile. "I don’t really know much about it. I just drink whatever I feel like."

Venti gasps dramatically, "Hah, I thought so! I cou—"

His sentence is abruptly cut off by a hiccup. You barely suppress a laugh as you slide a glass of water toward him.

"Whoops! My bad!" He lets out a bubbly giggle, taking the water with a flourish. After downing a few sips, he clears his throat with an exaggerated ahem.

"As I was saying—" He pauses for effect. "If you're interested in wine, I’d be delighted to educate you! I’d say I’m an expert.”

You tilt your head playfully. "I can tell."

His eyes twinkle with mischief. "But if you're not..."

He leans in slightly, voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper.

"I'm still very interested in having a drink with you sometime. You’re quite the gorgeous stranger, you know."

Before you can fully process the compliment, he winks. Smooth, confident, entirely shameless.

"So," he muses, resting his chin in his palm.

“What do you say about keeping in touch?"

KAZUHA

Kazuha is probably the most normal one out of the bunch. No glares, no drunken ramblings, no interrogation-like questioning. Just a warm, endearing smile as he gestures toward the empty seat across from him.

He even stands up, gently pulling your chair back for you. A small but thoughtful gesture. One that makes your heart skip just a little.

"Please, have a seat." His voice is soft, and smooth, like a passing breeze on a summer afternoon.

As you settle in, he strikes up a light conversation, asking about your day with genuine curiosity. He listens intently, nodding along, occasionally offering small comments that make you feel at ease.

And unlike a certain maroon-haired flirt or a wine-loving bard, instead of stealing your food, he offers you his. With a slight nudge, he pushes his plate toward you.

"Would you like to try some?" His expression is hopeful.

You shake your head, feeling too shy to accept. "Oh, no, it’s yours. I couldn’t."

He pouts. Actually pouts.

"Come on, just a bite. Humor me." He even throws in the puppy eyes.

And damn it, how could you refuse that face?

Reluctantly, you take a tiny piece with your fork, just enough to taste.

He notices. And he’s not having it.

Without a word, he cuts a larger piece, lifting it toward your lips with his own fork.

"Say aah," he coaxes, his smile both playful and teasing.

Your face burns hotter than the café’s espresso machine, but you comply, letting him feed you.

His expression softens, eyes twinkling with quiet satisfaction.

But just when you think it couldn't get worse—

He leans forward slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips.

Before you can react, he reaches out, thumb brushing lightly against the corner of your mouth.

Then, with a casual grace that should not be allowed, he brings his thumb to his lips, licking off the stray bit of cream.

And smiles.

Innocently.

As if he didn’t just send your soul straight into the abyss.

You stare at him, utterly flustered, while he simply sips his tea, acting as though he didn’t just casually destroy you in broad daylight.

"You're acting awfully sweet to a stranger," you point out, tilting your head at him.

Kazuha hums thoughtfully, swirling his tea. Then, he gives you a small, shy smile.

"Am I? Well... how could I not, if the stranger is you?"

Smooth. Too smooth.

He gives you a shy smile. "We could fix the 'stranger' part. How about friends?"

You giggle softly. "Are you sure just friends?"

He gives you a playful look. "Well, we could be more in the future."

His laugh is light, airy. Like the whisper of wind through maple leaves. But then, something seems to dawn on him, and his expression shifts.

"But—" he pauses, suddenly looking sheepish. "If you're already seeing someone, being friends is enough."

Oh, that's adorable.

You giggle behind your hand, heartwarming at his sincerity. After all that flirting, he's still worried about stepping over a line.

"Don't worry," you reassure him, "I've never dated anyone."

His eyes widen slightly, genuine disbelief flickering across his face.

"Is that so?" He tilts his head. "That's surprising. I thought someone like you would be off the market by now."

You shrug, smirking at him. He leans in just a little, voice dropping to a gentle murmur, as if sharing a secret.

 His gaze locks onto yours, warm, admiring. 

“I get to find and keep the treasure, then? What an honor.”

note. ah yes the work i was most proud of back then lol anw i’m planning to make a part 2 for this idk when tho maybe when i feel like it. i improved a few bits from the original and this is not proofread! i literally just skimmed through the text and changed a few stuff hope u enjoyed say hi if u remembered this

© lmvari do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works on any platform.

A Mate’s Special Touch

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Contains/Warnings: tiny bit of angst (his wings being gone, we all know he would’ve had them), clingy Xiao (self indulgent sue me), mentions of bird habits and mating

A/N: Saw a yt short about the difference between petting vs stroking ur birds and the meaning and I was suddenly inspired

Song this is named for: None

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

He didn’t let people get close to him. It was more a fear of contaminating them with his karmic debt then being antisocial, and that was what he told people such as the Traveler. It was the truth mostly, so he didn’t care.

But when you came around and you, like those other rare people, squeezed in through the barriers around his heart, he wouldn’t let anybody but you touch him. In fact, he tried to seek it out and ask for it in his own ways- light brushes of skin on skin, leaning against you, holding you a bit tighter when you wanted a hug. There was something special about your touch and he loved it. Craved it, even, after oh-so long of no touch, hardly any contact.

Anytime anybody- and he meant anybody- but you tried to touch him, even the Traveler, he would puff up like a bird and glare at them. He may not have had wings to puff up for intimidation anymore, but he sure tried. Even the slightest brush made him grumble indignantly and want to scrub his skin, but he wanted you to touch him, to stroke his hair or his back.

You could feel, under his clothes, hidden carefully, the stubs of wings. The broken bone, the still tender skin. He wishes he still has his wings to tuck you into. He knows you would’ve loved them, would’ve helped to preen his feathers into place, would’ve cuddled into them. But they’re gone now, taken from him cruelly.

You still love him despite the scars, the marks, the imperfections. And he adores you for it. He leaves you gifts, anything he thinks you’ll like, on the railing of your room balcony. Sometimes you’ll find him perched there at nighttime. He likes it more than the balcony most people look for him on, because you’ve decorated even the balcony.

When you speak even the first two letters of his name he’s there, already tucked under your arm. Your touch is like a soothing balm on his corrupted soul. Some nights he’s so worried about his karmic debt hurting you, especially with how much skin-on-skin contact you have with him. For hours he’ll struggle to keep himself away from you, from your touch and your cuddles.

But he eventually succumbs to the want to cuddle up and be content like a bird tucked under their mother’s wing. You stroke his hair, he likes that more then when you pet him like an animal- he tends to bare his little fangs at you when you do that, but he learned the hard way not to do that when you giggles about his ‘little teefies’ for several minutes.

And you don’t learn about this until you get a book about birds to learn more about his bird like tendencies, but birds only let their mates stroke them like that. Pets are platonic, but certain birds only let their mate stroke them all over. And then it clicks- the gifts, the baring of fangs when you tried to pat his head once, the happy little cooing noises when you run your hands over his back or sides, the clinginess. And when you take into account whenever even the Traveler or Mr Zhongli tries to touch him he’ll puff up and bare his fangs, but he’s always fine with your touch, it makes sense.

And now that you know what it means it’s utterly adorable. How could you not be charmed by that? That he only wants your touch? You love him even more, doting on him with kisses and more touches and making him almond tofu whenever. It’s never really official when you start dating, but the sudden appearance of lots and lots of bites and nibbles on your neck and the altogether too pleased look on Xiao’s normally emotionless face is enough for most of the people working at the inn to put two and two together.

— I CAN SEE YOU ⊹₊⟡⋆

scaramouche x f!reader social media au

SUMMARY — you’ve been stanning scaramouche, a soloist, since before you can even remember. with the thinking that “he is out of your reach” and “we live in different worlds” already ingrained on your mind, just what are the odds that he already happens to be one of your stan account mutuals?

status: on-going | taglist: open — please reply to this masterlist in order to be added !! note: asks for being included will be invalid; only those in the replies will be added so that we're organized tyy ^^

genres: social media au, celebrity au, modern au, crack, fluff, a sprinkle of angst (?), hidden identities

extras: playlist — [click here] 🤍 (still a wip tho hehe)

author's notes:

3rd smau hello???

privacy (my ayato smau) spinoff !! scara will finally have his own story after 2? 3? years ToT

updates may be inconsistent, i don't have a posting schedule :>

again, idk what i'm doing haha

english is not my first language so expect grammatical and typographical errors (bear with me please :"D)

will contain swearing

ılıılıılıılıılı FEATURED ARTISTS. ---- sky.

----- scara.

TRACKLIST. ılıılıılıılıılı

intro (prologue): being a scara stan

track 01: him again ▸ track 02: make me track 03: not in public ▸ track 04: our little secret track 05: tba ▸ track 06: tba track 07: tba ▸ track 08: tba

outro (epilogue): tba

TAGLIST I (closed; 50/50) @kararisa @aries-afk @aetherialcrafter @jamieexistss @lordbugs @aerisellesuchi @adres-tia @luvlockettt @kinichval @miiltrix @suzueuieeeee @automaticpatroltragedy @ahirusstuff @kyuki07 @kunikuni1819 @hungryreadingaddict @deariroha @rosieyama @slayzzz @tired-jaz @mellowberrie @kyouzki @riabriyn @ravenbc @lalalaloveallmydays @moonlitreveri3 @skyoverkill1 @xiaomainlmao @phoenix-eclipses @yomishen @anemosmybeloved @iaraluvs @kunikuzushiit @lockandkeys @yoursockstinks @idkwhattoputasmyusernme @d1gital-data @shyentsmissingink @liuaneee @najaemism @mywillt0live @aswiftiechildofapollo @toekissers @meigalaxy @nishiriks @executeher @verafunny @gl00muraaii @lily-isalittlegirl @just-a-hopeless-romantic @franaby @shrimplyasleep @scaraenthusiast1 @kyon-cherri @kunikissr

TAGLIST II (open; 19/50) (can't mention bc tumblr limits 50 mentions per post :'( but rest assured you guys are added ^^)

@withnners @audristarzz @heusalettle @mayarisan @eternallykira-143 @cindywasneverhere @meowrenapurrdo @itsjustmillie @flowzel @ohmyfinggod @zuhahearts @scarasbaby @euphoraia @yotraumainthebuilding @pinkismyfavcolor @dazqa @jym-jazzily @usagiarchive @ddivilove

TAGLIST III (open; 0/50)

-The Cruel Prince-

NSFW, 18+ only Plz~ 

Summary: Prince Scaramouche is a ruthless Prince ruling over Inazuma. His engagement to a princess has him upset. You are his servant who he talks to regularly. He invites you to his private chambers one day...

Pairing: Prince! Scaramouche x Servant! Female Reader

Warning: Mean/Nice Scara, power relationship, fluffy cuteness, mean princess she don't got no name, unprotected sex, foul language, mutual masturbation, porn w/ plot, and cream pies hehe.

Word Count: 6.3K (...These are too long. I'll be making some shorter smuts without so much plot!)

Enjoy~

“Hmph, you, servant. Meet me in my personal chambers when you are finished. Do not leave me waiting long.” Splashes of dark lavender pooled from his eyes, his gaze piercing and powerful as he stared intimidatingly in your direction. The flashes of his Royal outfit shining under the chandeliers of the palace. With a swift turn, the prince left the kitchen where you had been cleaning up with the other servants. Low murmurs were exchanged among your co-workers, most in envy, some in fear, and some with pity. Prince Scaramouche of Inazuma truly was someone to be feared among all ranks, Including those of other nations. Just the mention of his name and the sound of thunder struck fear into the souls of even the dead. Now here this terrifying man was, inviting you to his personal chambers. 

What could Prince Scaramouche possibly want with someone like you? 

As a product of Queen Ei’s corrupt contract with an outcasted mage, Prince Scaramouche was conceived purely from the virgin queen. She needn’t no king by her side, only a son to take over in her steed once he was of age. The prince was a cruel man. He was merciless to those who deceive him. Unforgiving to those who do not yield under the frigid gaze his familiar lavender eyes cast. And spiteful to the trespassers and criminals that threaten to tarnish the reputation his name held. The fluidity of his tongue was similar to the way he held the sharpened blade adorning his hip, precise and always going for the kill. The frostiness of his dark lavender eyes was enough to scare the strongest men in any kingdom to bow to his feet. The prince truly is a cruel man. 

But he can kind. 

In fact, your first meeting with Prince Scaramouche was somewhat pleasant. After dusting the library, you had a bit of free time before your next task and chose to enjoy reading a novel. Being too engrossed in your book, you failed to notice the prince entering the room. His harsh tongue broke you from your intense concentration, standing up to bow to him with an apology quick on your lips. He was silent for a moment before he asked what you were reading. You briefly explained a vague summary of the book and the prince gave only a hum of acknowledgment. He didn’t disturb you more and simply left off into the library to retrieve a book of his own. A week later, you identified his lonely figure sitting at a cushioned royal blue sofa reading the book you had been reading. Thus, starting your complex relationship with Prince Scaramouche. Meeting in the library every two days to quietly discuss literature over tea. 

Going to his personal chambers… was new. 

Once you finished with your task, you made your way down the quiet hallways towards Prince Scaramouche’s private chambers. The sound of your own footsteps echoed in the stillness of the halls, almost identical to the sound of the thunder that often reined in the quiet and gloomy kingdom of Inazuma. The large mahogany doors of the prince’s private chambers came into your view, the smooth oak fragrance swimming through your nostrils, making you remember just how wealthy and powerful the prince was. Muffled voices came from the other side of the wooden doors, and you debated whether you should leave and come back at a different time. Reflecting over the prince’s words, you gave three firm knocks on the door, silencing the voices on the other end until one spoke loudly and sternly. 

“Enter.” After an approval was voiced, you carefully entered the room and laid eyes on Prince Scaramouche and his fiancé. The cold look in his eyes never left, even for the woman whom he was betrothed to. The princess was already looking at you when you entered, a disgusted and envious look in her eyes. “What is this servant doing here in your room, Scaramouche? You knew I was coming today yet you still invite someone to your room to bother us?!” The prince paid no mind to the princess’s obnoxious question and beckoned you with his index finger. With quiet and careful steps, you made your way to the prince, standing in front of his desk looking down at him. “(Y/N).” Your eyes widened upon the use of your name. In the palace —at least in Inazuma—royals were not supposed to speak or even know their servants’ names. It was deemed unnecessary and a bit too close for blue-blood liking. Getting close to a servant was strictly forbidden, so you never told him your name even when he requested it of you. “Escort the princess out.” 

“What?! But we’re supposed to be planning our wedding! You can’t throw me out! I won’t leave!” The princess sat down on one of his purple cushioned seats accented by a midnight threading. The prince merely looked at her and back to you, his eyes sharply narrowing as if to tell you to obey him. With a deep breath you politely spoke to the princess, “Please, princess. The prince has requested you-“ The princess stood making you stop your sentence as you believed she was going to leave. Her body turned towards you, her expensive heels clicking along the wooden floors of the prince’s private chambers until she was on you. In a blur, her hand rose and left a nasty red imprint on your cheek. Your legs felt shaky and the sting from her slap made tears water into your eyes. “Don’t ever speak to me so carelessly like that again, servant! I will be your queen! You treat me with respect! Do not let this happen again! I will return later to discuss our planning!”

The princess left, leaving you alone with Prince Scaramouche. The silence was utterly deafening. His dark lavender eyes were focused on your cheek, studying the rising redness that stained your perfect skin. A slender gloved finger rose and instructed you to come to his side. Your steps were shaky towards him, the thumping of your own heart loud in your ears the closer to got to him. You stood by his chair; gaze set down to him relaxing in his expertly crafted chair. The moment your eyes met you could feel how intense and threatening his gaze really was. Dark lashes fluttered against his eyes once he spared you a few lucid blinks. Your hands clasped together in front of you, awaiting an order from the prince. 

“On your knees.” The command was stern and deep, practically forcing you to your knees beside the arm of his chair. Prince Scaramouche turned his chair to face you, his knees so close to your face you thought he was accidentally going to kick you in the face. You closed your eyes, lips tightening in a thin line awaiting his words. “…Lift your head.” You did as he instructed, your eyes landing on the smug and prideful expression that plastered itself onto his pale features. A cruel and teasing smile spread onto his lips, obviously pleased by your unwavering obedience. “Do you know why I’ve asked you to come?” Your head shook honestly, any sense of words dying in your throat as you struggled to maintain eye contact with him. A low chuckle slipped from his throat, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Truly pathetic you are…” 

“F…Forgive me, Prince…” His midnight gloved hands gripped your chin causing red to blossom over both your cheeks. The smoothness of his thumb rose to glide over your lips, his eyes now focused on the plush softness of your lips. Once he realized he was staring a bit too longingly at your lips, he scoffed and let your chin go, now running his fingers along the handprint swollen into your cheek. “Such a good girl. You always listen so well. I’ll make sure her actions do not go unpunished as your reward.” Your eyes widened slightly at his praise and promise. Your lips parted only to have his finger press lightly against your lips. “Keep those pretty lips shut and listen.” You remained quiet, the heat of your cheeks only increasing due to the closeness of his touch. He retracted his hand and sighed out in frustration. “That wretch needs to go back to her own kingdom and stop interfering in my personal affairs so much. It’s damn annoying that I can’t get a moment to breath without her head weaseling its way so far up my ass I can’t even shit her out if I tried.” 

A small giggle left your mouth, humored by his foul language and use of words. He paused to listen to your laughter, his face lighting up in surprise and bewilderment at such a sound. You lowered your head quickly muttering an apology. This only amused him more. “Hah! Am I truly that scary or are you this weak?” With a slightly flustered expression, you bit your lip and looked up to him again, shaking your head in response. The look that graced his dark lavender eyes told you that he wanted you to speak. He needed to hear it. “I…I’m not scared of you, Prince Scaramouche. You’ve always… been kind to me, even at our meetings in the library to discuss books. You’ve never shown true malice towards me. I only worry of disappointing you, Prince.” 

It was evident from the look on his face that he was greatly pleased by your answer. “Hmm. A fine answer. That deserves a little reward don’t you think?” A sly smile spread across his lips, his teeth peaking from the plushness of his pale pink lips. Your face began to flush pink again, watching helplessly as his face leaned closer to yours. “How about a kiss? I think that sounds like a lovely reward.” Your heart hammered harder against your chest; your eyes wide as the prince tilted his head towards your lips. Nothing could stop him from doing as he pleased with you. You closed your eyes tightly, waiting for the impact of his lips against yours. A low chuckle came beside your ear, making you flinch. “Haha, you should see the look in your face. Did you actually think I was going to kiss you?” 

“A-Ah?! W-Wait no… I-I’m so sorr—Mmph!” A hungry pressure was applied onto your lips, silencing your pitiful apology to the powerful prince. His tongue forced your lips apart, sliding over your teeth and gums with a predatory dominance. Your hands gripped the frilled fabric of your servant’s dress, eyes screwed tightly shut as you shook in his forceful lip-lock. Your mouth weakly fell apart for him, letting his tongue invade your mouth to claim you as his own. His gloved hand slid through your hair, lightly tugging your head back to push his tongue deeper. Your body was beginning to get hot, a soft sigh of embarrassed pleasure leaving your mouth into his. His lips curled against yours, letting you feel the way his expression morphed. He pulled away from you, his tongue slowly leaving yours to let your eyes see the thick string of saliva that connected your tongues. With a flick of his tongue the string snapped, his perverted tongue gliding over his upper lip. “You taste intoxicating. You sure you’re not trying to poison me or something?” 

You couldn’t speak. Any words that tried to escape your lips couldn’t from the sheer shock of everything that was happening. All you could do was gaze up at him in awe. A slight sneer rose to his expression before he turned away with a dismissive pat and ruffle of your hair. “Your initial purpose for being here is no longer important. That’ll be all. You’re dismissed.” You blinked and swallowed thickly, shakily standing and bowing to him. Your face was purely red, utterly embarrassed and flustered by the events that transpired. The intensity of his gaze weighing in on the back of your head was truly terrifying. It felt as if he was sizing you up, studying your body and your physique to find your weak spot so that he can effectively pounce and devour you. 

He was hunting you. 

It wouldn’t be long before he would strike again. 

Mindless chatter drummed against your ears as you quietly sat in the dining hall eating your dinner. Other servants surrounded you, eating their fills of the cooks’ tireless efforts. The prince and the princess had finally set a date for their wedding, which would also be the prince's coronation. You could tell by the way he carried himself lately that he was far from being please about this. The princess couldn’t have been more ecstatic. Her eyes sparkled roaming the halls of the palace, trying to make sense of all the turns and paths to get to where she needed to go the most. The servants attempted to avoid the princess due to her ludicrous and outright psychotic requests —mostly having to deal with Prince Scaramouche. Her goals were truly sinful, and the request of you and some other female servants was all the proof of that. 

She wanted to be intimate with the prince. 

Your mind drifted back to the day he kissed you. After Prince Scaramouche had sealed his lips on yours in a heated kiss, you tried to avoid him as much as you could, but he always found a way to get you. He always threw sly and underhanded comments about you trying to avoid him or being too flustered to face him. His mouth never quit running. His fingers began to linger more on your hands when you handed him a book, his eyes following your lips and letting them lower shamelessly to stare at your chest. His scent clogged your nose, his aura dazed your mind, and his voice was like constant music to your ears, hypnotizing you to think of him and him only. It was as if he had been with you all day and all night. Even when he isn’t around it always felt like his presence was somewhere close by. 

It was obvious. 

You were starting to fall in love with him. 

A loud bang interrupted you from your thoughts. The door to the dining hall burst open, involuntarily welcoming the prince to the servants only area of freedom from work. His eyes connected with yours immediately, heated, and intense eyes glaring coldly at you. “Come to my chambers. Now!” His voice was booming and full of distaste, it was a contrast to what he had been showing you the past few weeks. The seductive and flirtatious tone he used with you was gone in this moment. Nothing but pure rage and detest radiating from his rather short frame. You rose slowly, the eyes of all the other servants following you as you walked towards him. Low murmurs were exchanged, making your expression sour which the prince took notice of quickly. “Silence! You dare to speak so casually and rudely in my presence? I should have all your heads!”

The room fell eerily silent, the only thing being heard was your quiet footsteps towards the prince. His eyes trained on you, lips forming a straight line as he had to compose himself before he started dragging you away by force. Once you were in front of the prince he turned swiftly and walked out with haste, expecting you to follow closely. You matched his stride, following behind not making a peep since it was crystal clear that the prince was in a terrible mood. The familiar narrows and curves of the hallway alerted you to where he was leading you. The intimidating thumps of his boots sounded like the raging thunder that rocked the land and haunted the dreams of children. It felt as if you were caught in the middle of a terrible storm that showed no mercy with merciless winds and crackling thunder. 

The prince swung the door open, grabbing your wrist and pulling you in with a harsh tug. A surprised gasp flew from your lips, not expecting the sudden impact when your back hit the dark wood of his door. The lock slid into place with a click as the prince’s gloved hands twisted the lock. He was quick in his movements, lips locking with yours in a passionate kiss. The leather of his gloves slid along your wrists, slowly pushing your hands up above your head until he held them there with one hand, trailing the other back down your arm to your face. A soft sigh left your mouth, your body instantly becoming weak at the prince’s dominant touch. He pulled away slowly, dark lavender eyes gazing into yours intently while his thumb grazed your cheek softly. 

“You belong to me now. I’m tired of all this bullshit. I’m no longer going to abide by their rules. Submit to me.” He muttered against your lips, his eyes staring into yours intently. Both of your hands were held by your wrists in one of his strong slender hands. A confused look spread over your face, lightly panting against his lips as he continued to press his body against yours. “W-Wait Prince Scaramouche… M-May I speak?” The prince froze hearing your hesitance to his actions. The dejected look crossing his eyes made you shiver since he was beginning to become upset. He slowly let go of your wrists, stepping away from you with a bit of reluctance. You made a shy step forward, clearing your throat and adjusting your clothes. The prince clearly didn’t like this. “P-Prince Scaramouche… may I ask what happened to have you advancing on me all of a sudden? We… we kissed before once but… y-you’re a Royal, and you’re engaged to the princess, your wedding is-“ 

“I don’t give two shits about status or that wretch.” His words were cold and harsh, practically spitting them out at you as if they were poison on his tongue. The fury in his eyes was evident, annoyance raising to his lips in a bitter sneer. “I am only with her due to my mother forcing a marriage to me. I would rather have you, than her. Haha! You’re the only one who isn’t so scared of me that you’ll actually have a normal conversation with me. Does your small brain not comprehend how lonely I must be? How your less annoying presence satiates this emptiness in my chest? How your kind words melt my heart? How you treat me like a human being?” A sorrowful frown curved onto his lips, his eyes softening in the slightest when he made another step towards you. The dazzling shines of his medals in the dim lighting reminded you again of who exactly was in front of you, admitting he wanted to be with you instead of the beautiful princess. “B-But-“ 

“Hah, enough with the back talk. I’ve already admitted that I wish to have you regardless of the situation. It’s a matter of accepting or rejecting me. What is it you want, (Y/N)? If you aren’t a coward against royalty… then accept me. I can see it in your eyes you wish to have me too.” There was no denying that yes, you did want Prince Scaramouche. He held such power, respect, and most of all, he held a soft tenderness to you. The way his expression softens and relaxes when you’re in the library with him, asking childish and innocent questions he wishes to know. Those who get close to know the prince and genuinely care will know that of his caring and curious nature. None had ever gotten to experience this. You were the first one to ever want to know the prince, and here he was, rewarding you for your kindness, your patience, and your bravery for standing in the face of a furious thunderstorm, appreciating its cool rapid winds and loud thunder. Through masked words of rudeness to shield his soul, his actions revealed what lies in his heart. “Spit it out already, I’m losing patience.”

You didn’t respond verbally to him, you only gazed at him with the gentle tenderness that lovers would exchange. Your bare hands rose slowly, letting your fingertips slide over his unblemished pale features. His skin was cool to the touch yet soft as if it had never been touched or seen by that of battle or labor. The long lashes surrounding his dark lavender eyes fluttered under your gentleness, his gloved hands coming to rest against the back of one of your own hands. Your lips grew closer to his, brushing them softly against one another before you sealed your answer with a loving kiss. The prince moved his hands along your arm, slowly coming down to settle against your waist, pulling you closer towards him in attempt to practically become one with you. His touch was desperate, hungry, and oh so feverishly nervous. Truly sinful for someone of his status. 

“Fuck…” A faint curse came from his soft pale pink lips, the color of his cheeks rising to a gorgeous rosy red. His hands came down your slowly, inching his way closer and closer to your bottom. Anxious pants left your lungs as you waited for him to firmly grab you and continue. His strong hands gripped against the plushness of your ass, groping, and kneading the curvy flesh. A low groan erupted from his chest, bringing his hand down to pull your leg up against his hip. “You’re so beautiful…” The prince’s generous praise serenaded your body to croon into him, your mind turning to mush at the simple melody of his affections. Sparks of dark lavender glimmered within his eyes; the darkness of his pupils blown out in pure desire. His sinful tongue slipped past the guard of his thin lips to slide along your neck slowly before his teeth met your skin in a mix of passion and lust. “P-Prince-“ 

“Call my name.” His lips vibrated against your flesh, his hot breath fanning against your skin threatening to leave passionate burns of his affections. A pathetic whimper sounded from your throat, your tongue testing the waters of how well his name rolled off. “S-Scaramouche…” A heated sigh leaves the royal’s lips, his body moving forward to hold you against the wall. His teeth grazed your neck hungrily, his tongue marked you possessive, and his lips caressed your heart to encourage you to yearn for him more. “Such a good girl. Always so good to me.” Both of his hands slapped against your butt and pulled you up to hold your legs around his waist, carrying you back to his bedroom. The harsh kick of his boots made the door swing open, in an instant your back was against the bed with the prince on you in mere seconds. “Tell me what you want. Tell your Prince what to do to your lewd body.” 

“S-Scaramouche… I…” The words caught in your throat as you tried to think of a way to voice your desires to the Prince of Inzauma. Your flustered appearance only spurred the prince to touch you further. His slender fingers, still encased by the smoothness of his ebony gloves, glided up the skirt of your servant’s attire. The tenderness of his touch against your thighs turned desperate quick when he started to ascend higher, getting dangerously close to your shamefully wet cunt. “Use your words, darling.” The sweetness in his tone as he cooed that sensational nickname to you was enough to let your mind finally accept what was going to happen. You looked up to him, newfound confidence, and desire in your eyes. Of course, he noticed immediately with a satisfied smile, his tongue coming to lick his lips seductively. “Please, Scaramouche… touch me more.” 

“Hah, fuck…!” His lips crashed down on yours again, his hands making quick work go grab your thighs and part them, placing himself between them. The heat of his body scorched yours, a light sweat coating your forehead as his touches got all the more sinful. His tongue flicked and swirled against your own before he grabbed your jaw and pulled away from your lips, forcing you to keep your mouth open. Without so much as a breath, he spat in your mouth, sending a shiver down your spine as his spit mushed around on your tongue. “Swallow it.” His tone was no longer sweet and loving, it was demanding, lustful, seductive, and oh so lewd. You did as he instructed, swallowing his spit with a flustered squirm. The gorgeous shimmer of his canines came to your hazy view, his teeth snatching the leather on the tip of his finger and pulling his glove off with his teeth. God his hands were just absolutely gorgeous. “Good girl. You still want more, right?” 

You nod anxiously. A dark chuckle rumbled his chest, his gloves discarded to now feverishly unbutton the front of your shirt. “Good answer. Now sit back… and let your divine Prince take care of you.” His fingers brushed over your skin when he pushed your shirt open, dark lavender irises landing on the raggedy white bra you wore. While he was enjoying the delicious view, his lips turned downwards into scowl at the condition of your undergarment. “Tsk, we’ll have to change this if you are to become my woman. I’ll make sure you’re dressed in the most exquisite lingerie mora can buy.” A soft moan echoed into his ears once his hands made contact with your breasts, smooth hands kneading your tender mounds. The pads of his fingers teased your flesh, lightly dipping into the front of your bra and sliding his hand down to pinch your nipple. “Hmm! P-Prince Scaramouche…!” 

The uncomfortable push of your shambled bra from his fingers was nothing compared to the bliss you experienced under his hot touch. “Have you ever been touched like this before?” It was clear from the look in his eyes that he was searching for a particular answer. He begged you to say no, begged that he was the only man that’s ever touched you. It was possessive, jealous, and pitiful the way he gnawed at his lower lip waiting for your answer. “Mmph, no you’re, hah, t-the first Scaramouche.” His irksome scowl twisted into a cocky grin, the heaviness of his eyelids coming down to hold his vision. He was now solely focused on making you feel the best. “Good. Then let my touch be carved into that dumb brain of yours. Moan till your hearts content, darling.” 

His fingers pulled away slowly, his hands coming to push your bra up and over your head instead of unclipping it. This action made you realize that the brave and often times egotistical prince was also inexperienced. You would’ve never guessed due to his personality. Every act he did he did with the utmost confidence as if he’d rehearsed every scenario imaginable. The cloudy gaze he set on your chest was intense, his pupils blown out in pure lustful devotion to your body. Every swell and curve of your breasts had him mesmerized. The cute little erection of your nipples, the darker pigmentation of your areolas, and the slight jiggle they had whenever you shifted about. He quickly found himself becoming obsessed with the sight, imagination running wild with all the lewd things he could do. How would they look covered in his cum? Scratch that, maybe some lovely purple hickeys? Nah, what about some red blotchy bite marks? 

Fuck, he wants it all! 

“S-Scaramouche?” The sound of your flustered voice broke him from the bewitched state he had suffered when looking at your bare chest. A rosy blush spread over your cheeks; hands shaky at your sides wanting to cover yourself from his unwavering gaze. He let out a small, amused chuckle. “What? Can I not admire your body? I am a prince after all… I should be able to admire my things when I please.” His lips descended, landing on your collar bone only to cascade down to give wet kisses along the swells of your chest. His tongue came around your areola, flicking up to nudge your erected nipples. “Hmm!” You flinched upon the sudden action, lips coming up set in a firm line while your eyebrows scrunched in silenced pleasure. He repeated this action, earning another small flinch accompanied by a hushed whimper. “You’re so cute when you try to hide your voice from me. We’ll see how long you can keep that up.”

The prince moved his bare hands along the sides of your waist, catching under your skirt and pulling the frilled fabric down to expose the lace of your panties. The pads of his elegantly slender fingers glided easily over your skin, giving your legs chilly goosebumps at his touch. His index and middle finger slid from your skin to the sensational folds of your clothed cunt, rubbing slowly to ease his way between them. “Heh, look how wet you are… that’s incredibly lewd of you, (Y/N).” The grin on his face widened once he saw your face contort in quivering ecstasy as his fingertips teased at your folds. His middle finger found your puffy clit, rubbing back and forth slowly. Your back arched with a gasp at the sudden action, limbs twitching while your lip found its way between your teeth. “Ah, ah, don’t you dare try to hold back those pretty moans. Let everyone hear you. Let them know how well I pleasure you, princess.” 

The prince relished in the way your body squirmed underneath him. It was always something he unconsciously loved. Dominating others and controlling every aspect over them. Discomfort boiled within the prince’s groin, his cock twitching feeling his fingertips becoming damp with your slick that was overflowing from your lovely cunt. He quickly withdrew one of his hands from your body, hastily unbuckling his pants to relieve the strain against his hard cock. “What do you want, darling? Tell your master what you fucking want!” His fingers encased your clit, rolling the bundle of nerves between his fingertips until your back was arching, head throwing back into the exquisite silk of the prince’s bed. “Scaramouche! P-Please… I-I can’t-! Want-! Ngh… I want more!” A cocky smirk plastered across the thin pale lips of the prince, his fingers now hooking on the side of your panties to pull them aside and slide his fingers up and down your wet folds. “Tsk, Tsk, not good enough. Be more specific.” Heavy lustful breaths poured from your mouth, your throat already dry and your heart beginning to hammer against your chest. “F-Fingers, hah, inside please…” 

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, I’ll indulge you for our first time… don’t expect the same treatment in the future now, darling.” With a sensationally fluid movement, the prince’s fingers embedded themselves into your warm cunt, walls fluttered tight at the sudden intrusion. A flustered and surprised gasp spewed from your lips, thighs shaking slightly at the god-like structure of his fingers. With his other hand, he grabbed your hand and guided it to rest against the tight bulge against his undergarments, his heavy arousal. A relieved sigh escaped from his lungs, groaning deeply at the contact against his cock. “Rub it if you want more. Hurry.” Desperation was laced within his hushed tone, hips bucking lightly into your hand to feel the electrifying friction of your hand on his erection. “C’mon, baby… fucking rub it.”

With a shy blush, you started to move your hand loosely around his cock, earning a low groan at the feathery touch. A satisfied grin spread onto his swollen pale lips feeling your cunt squeeze on his fingers. “What? You like jerking me off, darling? That’s… hah, incredibly lewd of you, fuck.” Scaramouche leaned over you, jaw clenched when your fingers kept loosely brushing over his tip over and over again. His fingers hooked inside of you, thrusting them deep causing your grip to tighten in surprise on his cock. You both moaned in unison, enjoying each other’s sinful touch. The prince bucked his hips into your hand, matching indigo brows furrowing at the lovely warmth around his twitching arousal. “Such a good girl. Always so, hah, obedient for me even like this.” 

“S-Scaramouche... hmm.” His fingers eagerly fucked your dripping cunt with purpose. His eyes were trained on your sinful expressions, fingers spreading to stretch out your walls. The friction of your fingers against his tip caused him to hunch over at a rapid approach to his release. “Stop.” Your hand immediately retracted upon hearing his order, worried you possibly hurt him or did something to cause him pain. Scaramouche pulled his fingers from you, not missing the small whimper that vibrated your throat as emptiness was all you were left with. Seeing such a worried expression, the prince laughed and kissed your forehead before bringing his fingers to his lips. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m just… too eager to have you right now.” A dark look of lust covered his eyes, devilish tongue coming to flick over his fingers and taste your juices. The flustered expression on your face was rewarding. Once his fingers were clean, he shrugged off his clothes, letting your eyes wander around the physique of the prince's slender tone body until your eyes trained on his erection before embarrassingly looking back into his dark lavender eyes. “Heh, think you can handle it?” 

An audible gulp echoed from your throat. 

“Y-Yes…” A small snicker came from the flashy Prince. He guided his hands along your thighs, spreading them wide open to your embarrassment. Scaramouche licked his lips at the view of you beneath him, cheeks faintly pink, drunk off the feeling of lust and your beautiful features. You belonged there. In his arms underneath him, obediently letting him do as he pleased. His one and only princess forever. “Oh? Yeah? Well…” Something wet and firm rubbed over your entrance, making your eyes snap down to identify what it was even though you knew what it was. A grin spread over his face and with one fluid movement, his cock was sheathed snuggly inside your warm and inviting cunt. A low groan ripped from his chest, sighing loudly in relief and pleasure at the blissful feeling. “Let’s see if you can keep up, darling.”

It hurt at first, his cock stretching your walls past their usual limits. Your face scrunched in pain, your lungs clawing for air as the sudden invasion left you breathless and panting. Scaramouche’s hips rutted into yours slow and firm, heavy balls slapping against the plush of your ass while his fingers dug bruises into your waist. “Shh, just… hah, bear with it for a bit.” After a few shallow thrusts, your walls got used to the feeling of being stretch and the pain twisted and melted into sinful pleasure. A soft moan was all Scaramouche needed to know you were feeling good. His hips began to buck harsher into yours. With grit teeth and furrowed brows, he growled out lowly. “You’re so fucking tight. Hah, shit.”

“Hmm, Scaramouche, hah, it’s so… deep, hngh!” Your head threw back into the expensive sheets of the prince’s bed. Your hands darted up to his toned shoulders, clutching onto him for dear life as his cock drilled deeper. The mushy head of his erection kissed against your cervix, making stars appear in your vision. Nothing had ever felt this good before, it was addicting, like a drug that once you start you could never stop. Scaramouche was too good. “Shit, shit… Agh…!” Strands of soft indigo rested against your sweaty forehead, warm breath fanning repeatedly over your face as the prince got closer to your face panting. Your lashes fluttered, black overtaking your vision as you solely focused on the pace of his hips and the swollen plush of his lips against yours. His pace became harsher and quicker, forcing loud and unabashed moans to flow into his mouth to swallow for him and him only. “You feeling good, darling? Hah, tell me how fucking good it feels, ngh.”

“It feels so -hah!- so good Scaramouche! So good! T-Too… much, ahh!” An unfamiliar feeling began to build in your abdomen, it was tight and hot. Your fingers dug into the unmarked flesh of his shoulders, embarrassed eyes slowly opening to look up at the prince. His eyes connected with yours instantly, a storm of indigo and deep lavender swirled within his irises, threatening to destroy your whole being with his overwhelming lust and affection. It was such a turn on to make eye contact with him while he was massaging your velvety insides with his thick cock. He leaned down and sealed your lips with his own once more, his pace faltering and a groan reverberating onto your lips as his orgasm grew closer and closer. “Shit, I’m gonna cum… Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming! Gah, damnit!”

“Scaramouche wait-! Ahh! Wait, wait- Mmm!!” Your toes curled and your back arched off the bed, a cry of your new lover’s name leaving your swollen abused lips. A creamy ring surrounded his cock, your juices making lewd squelching noises as his cock slid in and out of you so nicely. With an increasingly sloppy pace, the prince stilled on top of you, his body trembling slightly before letting out a flurry of pleasured curses. A warm gush flooded your insides, and you could feel the tip of his cock twitching wildly as his cum sputtered into your core. A shiver ran down your spine feeling so full inside, all of it was just so… blissful and overwhelming. You both sat there trying to catch your breath until Scaramouche's voice cut through the air. “(Y/N).” His voice was low and heaving as he called out to you. Your eyes could barely stay open anymore with how tired your love making had been. “Yes, Prin- Scaramouche…?”

“…You’ll be my Queen, won’t you?” With a loving smile, you leaned up gently and kiss his warm cheek. “Of course, without a doubt.” The prince snorted and flicked your forehead. “Good. Not as if I would let you say no to begin with.” 

The prince was a cruel and selfish man, but he was also kind.

"Time for me to go out and find the truth. So long, suckers!"

-Scaramouche

the other side

— xiao x gn!reader

prologue || >

masterlist

content warnings: break-up, angst, mentions of nausea

"we should break up."

xiao is stone-faced as he sits opposite you at what once had been your shared kitchen table. now it's just yours; apparently his staff will drop by later to take his things. and he's leaving, without even a proper goodbye.

where'd this come from, so out of the blue? you'd been fine as of late. maybe a little busy, a little distant because of that, but nothing more.

"xiao," you begin.

"don't." he shakes his head, standing up roughly. "i don't expect you to understand, but don't try to fight it. nothing will make me change my mind."

"xiao." you're so, so close to crying; but then his next words make you pause out of disbelief.

"how much?" he demands, and though you know he's trying to act all mean and nasty right now, you still hear his voice shake. just a little.

"what?"

"how much do i need to pay for you to not pursue me about this? i only have about a thousand in cash right now but—"

"this isn't about money!" you get up, stumbling blindly after them.

"you can contact my staff and they'll wire over any amount you ask for—"

"xiao, what— i love you!" your voice is raw and broken, and it makes him freeze in place.

"stop," he pleads, though he doesn't make a move to turn back. and his voice breaks, and you think he might be crying too. if only his back wasn't turned, if only you could see—

unceremoniously, the door slams shut, leaving you alone with an empty apartment and a broken heart.

THE OTHER SIDE

he hates himself for being this weak, for letting you see what he'd been desperately trying to hide the whole time.

it's more about you than him, this breakup, but still completely his fault nonetheless. so, so many regrets — he shouldn't have followed those stupid dreams of his, when all he dreams of these days is you.

and it's his fault that you're at risk now, too; his fault that you being associated with him in the slightest will result in you getting jumped by a horde of rabid fangirls. he doesn't want any of that anymore though, not the game and not the fans and not even the money.

but he can't tell you that — he knows you'd follow him to the ends of the world (to be fair, he'd do the same for you) and so the only way to really make sure you're going for good is to make you hate him.

his phone rings — it's one of the higher-ups of his company, and he says exactly three words when xiao answers the call.

"is it done?"

"yeah," xiao grits out. he fucking hates that guy.

THE OTHER SIDE

4NEMO's latest press conference addresses the recent rumours about dating and similar topics; you watch xiao tell everyone there that he is definitely not dating anyone, and he doesn't even look sad or anything. seeing him so okay is nauseating and the love that you'd been so full of just a few days ago feels terrifyingly out of reach.

TAGLIST IS OPEN !!!

@kissunday @tiramizuloz @verafunny @heartmaddie @mivqko @fiannee @kang-ulzzang @mixolya @kr1nqu

© reocidal 2025

the other side

pairing: xiao x gender neutral reader

synopsis: the famous idol, alatus of 4NEMO, also known as xiao, also known as your (now ex) boyfriend, breaks up with you because it's threatening his career. (he really doesn't want to, but sometimes sacrifices must be made. that's what his company says, anyways.) the two of you go about your daily lives as you try to get over each other, both unaware of what's happening on the other side. but as the two of you take up new hobbies and try out different things, life keeps pushing you back to each other. so now what?

content: SOCIAL MEDIA AU, exes to lovers, idol au, streamer au? sort of, zhongli is 4NEMO's manager.

warnings: crude humour & language, possible ooc, late updates/unscheduled updates, weird friend groups, angst but not very fleshed out angst, ignore timestamps, possible alcohol consumption, i'm not an expert when it comes to idol aus, venti. warnings may change as series progresses, chapters will have individual warnings.

INTRODUCTIONS: 4NEMO || LO5ERS || MISC.

prologue

part i — fallout

the aftermath (part one)

the aftermath (part two)

cheer up

take a break

try something new

part ii — new beginnings

crash out over a videogame

try to forget (you still remember)

go outside for once

interlude: music festival

surprise guest

unknown number

part iii — same old, same old

the aftermath (again)

clean

change is good

announcement

one last time

peace and love on the planet earth

epilogue

CHAPTER NAMES ARE LIABLE TO CHANGE ;; TAGLIST IS OPEN 💫

@kissunday @tiramizuloz @verafunny @heartmaddie @mivqko @fiannee @kang-ulzzang @mixolya @kr1nqu @nobodybutnnoorr @luminescent-lights @yukari1k @wonderful-worlds @lululiciouss @c4ttheart

© reocidal 2025

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

I.

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year. 

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face. 

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue. 

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer. 

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places. 

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly. 

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him. 

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side. 

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now. 

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” 

V.

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure. 

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing. 

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his. 

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

✒︎ how (not) to fall in love.

synopsis: your best friend is tired of being single. she wants to fall in love. she wants to become like the female leads she's watching from romance movies. so being the supportive and kind best friend you are, you decided to help her! except that the guy she has her eyes on happens to be your long-term crush from your middle-high school days. surely, you're not the one who will fall for him... right?

― or in which you try to avoid falling for your crush but fate has other plans.

pairings: scaramouche x fem!reader

status: on - going

genre/warnings: social media au, modern au, fluff, crack, slowburn, college au, time stamps don't matter, mentions of alcohol, kys/kms jokes, swearing, tba

started: 10 - 11 - 24

ended: tba !

taglist: CLOSED!

profiles:

✒︎ y/n and 99 others || ✒︎ hot and cold

chapters:

✒︎ playlist

✒︎ start. no fcking way ✎

✒︎ 01. looks away respectfully

✒︎ 02. chance

✒︎ 03. my type

✒︎ 04. reluctance

✒︎ 05. a you problem

✒︎ 06. here we go again

✒︎ 07. ok rude

✒︎ 08. who ✎

✒︎ 09. that should be me

✒︎ 10. different ✎

𒀸 cut.

✒︎ 11. u asking me on a date?

✒︎ 12. lock your doors

✒︎ 13. lunch date! ✎

✒︎ 14. i said what i said

✒︎ 15. serves you right

✒︎ 16. on read

✒︎ 17. he likes someone

✒︎ 18. friends

✒︎ 19. can we talk?

✒︎ 20. feels like a real home ✎

✒︎ 21. mind your own business

✒︎ 22. for sale

✒︎ 23. is it bad?

✒︎ 24. this you?

✒︎ 25. the tables have turned

𒀸 cut.

✒︎ 26. calling it

✒︎ 27. let's meet

✒︎ 28. soon ✎

✒︎ 29. no shit sherlock

✒︎ 30. habibi

✒︎ 31. run away ✎

✒︎ 32. look at me

✒︎ 33. jealousy at its finest

✒︎ 34.

✒︎ 35.

✑ tba !

⟣ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (closed):

@livelaughlovekuni @shyentsmissingink @xionri @alatusorrow @skyoverkill1 @illu-fu @lololol00 @saechiro @stratusworld @dazqa @eunseok-s @jiminscarmex @yhailey @samyayaya @help-whatdoimakemyusername @ilovwfurina @blvdmrcnry @trulyylee @morgyyyyyyy @y3u11aiu @misswetty @heusalettle @lalalaloveallmydays @jayzioxx @scaraenthusiast1 @raineyun @kunikissr @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @nishislcve @v4lerixxq @lxkeeeee @liuaneee @kuniz-darlingg @phoenix-eclipses @manhdayyyy @anqelkoz @ariesloves @idkwhattoputasmyusernme @kioffy @ihatebananas120 @eternallykira-143 @suniika @almond-t0fu @projectsfantasy @vi0let-writes @constellationguy @usagiarchive @aetherialcrafter @angelkazusstuff @shidouuuliner

aries-afk © 2024. || please do not repost, or plagiarize !! all genshin characters i write for belongs to hoyoverse.

I MISSED YOU SO MUCH……………………………………………. OKAERI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! don't go on another 500++ day journey again…..

Me looking for yandere content the moment I step foot in any new fandom

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ KINICH: ❝ HEAVEN CAN WAIT. ❞

pairing: kinich x afab!reader (uses she/her) synopsis: during the invasion of the abyss, the bond between you and kinich is put to the test when you're both lost in the chaos searching for eachother, as he fulfills his sacred duty as one of the heroes of Natlan. warnings: spoilers of the 5.1 archon quests! lots of bodily injury + descriptions of gore, the war ingame is described in a darker way here, cursing, many mentions of death. wordcount: 5.4k cho’s notes: PLS SRSLY LISTEN TO THE INJURY WARNING!! i might be a little dramatic but theres an injury here that made me geek when i was writing it idk. this is basically 5.4k words of me pretending to understand the mechanics of the ode of resurrection 😭 i was inspired to write this after playing the 5.1 aq! hope u guys enjoy this, happy reads <3

taglist: @sillywinnertidalwave

Today marked the exact moment the people of Natlan realized that the abyss weren’t just these noisy hilichurls you see camping in the meadows or the occasional mages you’d encounter in the caves; The Abyss was a ruthless cult of monsters with their uniform goal of bringing humanity to its demise.

‘It was never supposed to get this bad.’ was the only thought racing through Kinich's mind as he swung from cliffs to trees as fast as he could, the muscles in his arms feeling like they could rip apart if he swung one more time, his head slightly burning with exhaustion and heart racing with overwhelming pressure.

People were getting massacred on the ground underneath him, as numerous warriors and guards pushed themselves beyond their limit to fend off the neverending wave of rifthounds and hilichurls coming from the illuminating pylons—and he couldn’t do anything about it. Not when everyone and everything needed his aid, all at once.

But Kinich had someone to come home to, and it was you.

The last moment of peace the both of you had together was just earlier today; Sipping coffee and eating fruit together, discussing light subjects to try and distract each other from the rising attacks of the abyss, totally oblivious to the fact that Natlan would be dragged into war by them hours later. 

He felt like it was just a minute ago when you sat in front of him, and glowed under the sunlight, slicing apples intricately as your lips spilled words. ‘How could this happen?’ he thought.

The image of you smiling, your face full of faith pulsed in his mind, making his stomach twist when his eyes landed on the village of the Scions of the Canopy; it was on the brink of ruin.

Caravans and carts were being ripped open with the goods spilling onto the ground only to be squashed, children getting dragged by desperate parents, greedy businessmen clawing at their money hoping it would save them, and the scattered limp bodies of innocent natlanese. The sky loomed over everyone’s heads in an eerie color, only amplifying the hopelessness he rarely felt in his chest. The scent of blood and burning ash filled his nostrils the second he violently landed onto the oversized canopy, mildly hurting his ankles in the process.

“Y/n? Y/n!” He called out among the frenzy, his eyes darting to every face he could spot. He got on his heel and started running— desperate that you wouldn’t appear as one of the bodies that were left to rot on the ground. 

He raced to your house, and tried to push the door open with no luck. He had no time to care for it, and just slashed through it with his bulky claymore and bursted into the room, his eyebrows knitted together, pupils dilated, cold sweat on his nape. His eyes don’t spot you in your usual leisure spot of your common room, making his heart drop. He checked all other rooms, and finally opened your bedroom:

You weren’t there.

You weren’t anywhere.

His heart hurt with every beat, and he desperately clawed at his chest trying to get back his calm composure he was always known for. But what for?

“Just give it up, that peasant probably turned into abyss food long before you even got here. Stop wasting your time, my time!” Ajaw suddenly hissed out, his words filling kinich’s mind with poison.

Imaginations of your body growing limp and cold, face turning blue, and blood oozing out from some part of your body as rifthounds dug through your flesh flashed through his head. And he tried to stop it. But with the spinning of his head and the lifelessness of your house that was once so full with your laughter, it just kept getting worse.

He stood with a lowered head, his hand gripping his claymore so tight his knuckles turned white. He fought back tears as his mind danced like a kaleidoscope. To him, there would be no use in saving Natlan, if you weren’t in the picture.

He was supposed to not let his will in defeating the abyss sway at all, you wouldn’t want that. No one would want that. He doesn’t either. But now faced with the odds that you might not be able to experience a Natlan that is finally free from centuries of prejudice, after you’ve been by his side telling him to have faith that the day will come, and the dreams you want to accomplish when everything is finally okay— It seemed unfair. SO unfair.

He whispers to himself, or rather to anything who was willing to listen, with a shaky voice: “If only one wish of mine can be granted for my whole lifetime, please.. Keep her safe. That’s all I ask.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The clashing of weapons against the shelled skin of the abyss monsters zipped through the air, as you swiftly dodged the claws of a relentless rifthound; you’ve been doing this for hours now.

You were helping your tribe, the Scions of the Canopy, strengthen its defenses before the outbreak until you were called by a messenger to help strengthen defenses of an adventurer’s base southeast of the village as it was being easily overwhelmed by the enemies. As the head of preparing defenses from the village, you happily obliged.

But now you were almost hours into battle, with your body aching in all different spots, as you tried your best to continue evading the insistent attacks of numerous monsters. You couldn’t find the energy to swing your sword with maximum strength anymore, so all you could muster up was to dodge them.

“Fuck! Will you ever quit!?” you yell, before pushing yourself beyond your limits again, attacking with frustration. You slashed through the tough skin of the rifthound with your dendro-infused blade, making it dissipate into purple smoke with a screeching growl before fading into the air.

You had a second for a breather and  took a deep breath, which you regretted immediately. “ugh!” you cried, falling to your knees, grabbing your side. You recall the moment you heard something snap when a hilichurl swung its wooden baton at your side when you were busy confronting a different monster. You broke your rib, and it was now piercing your lung.

You stared into the dirt, forehead collecting sweat. You took your hand off of your side, seeing blood paint your palm a deep scarlet. You touched your forehead, and brought your hand back to your eyes— You were bleeding. everywhere.

Your eyes sting with tears, the reality of the situation slowly setting into your head— The chances of you leaving this battlefield alive was slim. Your teeth press against your bottom lip tightly, the pain being incomparable to the injuries you’ve sustained. 

‘I’m sorry kinich.’ echoed in your mind. Kinich had been training you recently, for you to be ready in case of an invasion and he wasn’t there to protect you. But here you are, head-first onto the ground, realizing you’ll probably die in the next few minutes.

‘I’m sorry kinich.. I’m not built for this.’ you whimpered, tears slowly trickling down your face. You felt so heavy with hopelessness, you felt like you could start sinking into the solid dirt beneath your body.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You were only supposed to continue helping people fend off the abyss for a few more days, until the Pyro Archon solved the crisis. And after she did, you would’ve explored places outside of Natlan with Kinich. Sumeru was the first region you both agreed to visit; It was always a dream that you shared together to travel all of Teyvat one day. Hell, you even had a hunch he’d propose to you somewhere down the line of your voyage. 

So why are you kneeling on the floor, bleeding from every possible corner of your body, accepting your demise as your comrades slowly thin in number?

‘How long do I have to keep this up? I feel like if I swing my sword one more time, my arms will come flying off. I can’t do it anymore. This is something only strong people can do. Strong people like kinich. I can’t. I just can’t. I ca-’

Woosh!, Your ears picked up the sound and you jumped to your feet, barely escaping the blade of an enormous mitachurl that almost claimed your head. 

You tumbled lightly onto the ground, before you hold your sword up again with both your hands, your limbs trembling hopelessly in the gaze of the towering monster over you with demonic horns. You almost drop your blade and just let it kill you right then and there. 

But kinich appeared in your thoughts.

The mitachurl was standing the way the dummy kinich built for you was. Kinich’s voice instructing you rippled in your thoughts: “swing your sword down to the left, diagonal to the body. Then, slice up to the right, also diagonally. For the final blow, strike straight down the crown of its head, taking force from your shoulders. ”

You listen to kinich on repeat a few times, drawing imaginary lines on the body of the scowling mitachurl that stomped closer to you. You gulped the lump in your throat, before you did exactly what kinich taught you.

You twist your body with your edge in the air, taking a (painful) deep breath before swinging your blade to the left in a declining path. The mitachurl stumbles back at your sudden strike making an mmgh! sound, breaking down some of its armor. You quickly slice back up in the opposite direction before it could react any further. Your shoulder burned with every twist, but you had to keep going.

As it stumbled one more time, You bring your weapon above your head, and ignite it with dendro, causing a deep green aura to emit from your person. You meet eyes with the monster; It looked horrified. You stood there ready to take its life, appearing like a monster yourself with the blood that dripped down your head, your eyes seething with revenge.

You spare no more time before completely slicing straight down its head with maximum precision. A loud growl slowly faded with the noise, just as its body did, turning into a dark smoke. 

“If my life is going to end with this battle, then please grant my final wish—” You whispered, looking at your blood-stained hands, hoping the heavenly principles could hear your wish among the deafening sound of war:

“—Please.. Keep kinich safe for me.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The people seeking refuge in a temporary hideout turn their heads at the noise of their beloved heroes walking into the space. ‘Baraka’ Xilonen, ‘Umoja’ Mualani, ‘Uwezo’ Iansan, ‘Bidii’ Ororon, and ‘Vuka’ Chasca. There was only one more hero missing.. ‘Malipo’ Kinich.

Kinich had just rounded up civilians he saved from the village, and brought them there for safety. His gaze met with his friends, before he carefully placed a baby he was protecting into the arms of its mother— The baby had your eyes, which gravitated him into holding it just a little longer. He walked over to them with heavy steps, still trying to keep his composure despite the pain weaving his insides; just like them. 

“It’s the final phase of mavuika’s plan. We have to get back to the stadium, and help her with the Ode of Resurrection.” Xilonen says. “Can you do it?” 

It’s not like he had any other choice so he just nodded, not being able to muster up the strength to talk.

“Kinich.. Did something happen?” Mualani asked, taking notice of his silence as she placed her hand on his shoulder in support. It was clear she was just as broken down as he was, covered in bruises and scratches. But she continued to stay strong and pulled an empathetic look for him, trying to get his lowered eyes to meet hers.

“I.. couldn’t find y/n.” Kinich barely mumbled, the dread he felt earlier coming back to him, feeling like it only got worse verbalizing it. His eyes stuck to the ground, refusing to peel away.

The five heroes suddenly feel the air grow thick, a gasp leaving Iansan and Mualani's lips. This reaction only made the feeling worse, his fingertips digging into his palm. ‘Why does it have to turn out like this? I don’t fucking get it. It’s unfair. Not fair. Not fair to me, to her.’

The five struggled to find words to say, but ajaw quickly filled the space, spitting out: “Fear not lowly humans! For when Kinich finally slips in this final fight and accidentally ends up kicking the bucket, I, the almighty dragonlord, k’uhul ajaw! Will reign over this world once more! And the abyss will no longer be the biggest threat Natlan has faced!” The 8-bit monster laughed proudly with its jagged voice.

Kinich suddenly snapped at the puny dragon: “Zip it ajaw. Let’s go.” before stepping out of the hideout. The heroes gave each other glances, before silently following after him. They weren’t scared of kinich releasing ajaw, they knew kinich would never do that to them. But it was him they were worried about.

Kinich never handled loss well. It often resulted in.. Accidents. Towards himself.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You continued to fight your way to survival, the dendro vision hanging by your hip flashing every few seconds. You shifted your focus to destroy nearby pylons. Your hands had bruised, and slowly became callused and firm. The amount of blood loss you’ve endured has slowly started affecting you too, as your actions started getting sloppier, following your sight getting hazy from time to time.

‘Ching!’ You sliced through the last mitachurl around— atleast, last one before another one spawns—and fell to your battered knees. You sat there, gasping, your body begging for air. 

“Y/n!” a fellow comrade called out, rushing to your side. You can hear him mumbling something to you, but it’s incoherent. You looked at your dirty, bloodied hands, ‘what an ugly sight.’  

“Just.. keep pushing on y/n.” his words sound muffled to you and almost accompanied with sand; he’s losing hope too. 

Without warning, a bright beam of light suddenly shot up into the air, emerging from somewhere in the distance.

‘Huh?’ You look up.

The ray of light exploded into a star, making you wince at the glare. The explosion was so grand, you felt the earth tremble all around you, and even felt a slight radiance of heat reach your skin, even when it was suspended so close to the stars.

The warriors and monsters’ brawl comes to a pause, all beings turning their heads to the magic unfolding above their heads.

You look back up once more. It’s the Pyro Archon.

“In the name of the Pyro Archon, Haborym,” the transcendent voice sends chills down your spine.

“I declare the Night Warden Wars underway—”

“—The Ode of Resurrection will guard all life, until the war is over!”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich might’ve lost his mind.

With the Ode of Resurrection, there was nothing in his way to contain the blood rushing through his veins anymore, the flame pumping his drive. There was no limit to the blood he could pour, no limit to the bones he could snap, no limit to the wounds he could take; There was no more life that kept him from death, and no death to threaten him to life. 

He shot himself through the trees and cliffs and plunged into the ground, slashing right into an abyssal pylon, immediately shattering it into pieces. The abyss that caught sight of his unhinged eyes,  became the last thing they saw. He swung his blade relentlessly, calculated with maximum precision embedded into every strike. Every blow he landed would end a life point-blank, not wasting a single movement. No monster could keep up with the speed of his assault, their death delivered to them in a blur.

A hilichurl had taken an open opportunity to stab him right through the heart from behind. He felt the flame inside him flicker for a second.

‘Again.’

He ripped the double sided polearm right out of his chest, before skewering the same hilichurl right through its chest with the same weapon. A cryo mage quickly sent icicles to penetrate through his limbs and vital organs. He felt the coldness pierce into his insides, feeling the flame inside him flicker for a second time.

‘Again.’

He swiftly turned around, and spun his claymore right into the mage, beheading it in the process. The mage had evaporated to its death, as his claymore spun right back into his palm, snug as a glove. A hilichurl decided to charge into his tall figure and stab him with a dagger, puncturing his abdomen. His flame flickered for the third time.

‘Again.’

He sliced down on the hilichurl, making it dissipate into the air with a groan. He pulled out the dagger from his body and carelessly threw it onto the ground. Noticing the area was clear, he flung himself back into the air, swinging himself through the thick trees and long branches. They would momentarily graze his skin, cutting and wounding him but it was nothing to him, not anymore.

His void eyes scanned through the rocky terrain underneath his feet, searching for your figure. ‘You have to be here. Somewhere. Anywhere.’ His thoughts of you distracted him from an incoming tree, before flying straight into its tree branch, his body getting skewered in the process. He let out a loud cry of agony— “aaghh!”—, hearing static ringing in his ears. His bewildered eyes landed at exactly where he got impaled before feeling his head go fuzzy, his eyes slowly losing light, and his body going limp. He feels his flame flickering once more.

‘Again.’

Life is shot right back into him as he braced himself again, taking a deep breath, and pulling himself off of the tree branch. His injury immediately punished him, making him wince. He took one last look at the tree branch covered in his gore before swinging himself again. He looked at the gaping hole in his abdominal cavity slowly patch and fill itself again, and for a moment he’s completely mesmerized by the power of the ode of resurrection. 

In his mind, he punished himself for not being by your side, for not protecting you. And his mode of punishment would be feeling your misery over and over again. The sensation of burning pain ending up to his death just to wake up again completely alive again all in a split second was intoxicating. He was preserving life, as he toyed with his own. 

In his mind, he would rather die a million deaths than find out he’d be alive without you around.

“Listen to me bastard! I’m starting to appreciate this new thing you got going on, you know, like actually following your master, me, Almighty dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw! and using your vision for something exhilarating like ending lives. But I HATE! how i’m getting excited to take your body everytime you go floppy, but you just wake back up! It’s so ANNOYING!! So just keep it up until the fire-head woman turns the ode of what-ever-you-call-it off, and you stay dead. Alright!?”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Mavuika looked longingly onto her people fighting for their nation underneath her feet, as she levitated in the dark sky. It was a surreal simulation to her; It was her that was the catalyst for their dreams and hopes. It left a deep impression of justice, duty and pressure on her. 

Mavuika took a deep breath, before feeling a surging power slither all throughout her body.

‘This has to end, now.’

She collected all the dreams her people have relayed to her, the hopes for a future guided with justice and equality, their ancestors and their prayers for Natlan, the lives of her beloved followers who had been sacrificed and martyred, into her fist and made it into her strength. 

Her hair ignited into its flamed form, as she shot out all the might and glory of Natlan into a beam of radiance, targeting the abyssal body that was the sole cause of terror over her nation. 

The Celestial body forms a temporary glowing shield to stand its ground, until it doesn’t.

It slowly starts shattering like thin glass, making her attack on it only more powerful. Her thrash breaks through until it exploded into a dark fume, her light piercing right through it and into the distant sky. The sky carries the sound of the thundering explosion, shaking nature all around.

The black cloud slowly starts fading, revealing the eradication of the Abyss.

The black sky lifts off of Natlan, revealing the blue once more. You choked out the blood that’s been pouring in your mouth for the longest time as you finally finish off the last creature in sight. The Abyss had been eliminated by the Pyro Archon, and no more would spawn. Dulled and scratched swords, torn bows, and unfortunate martyrs polluted the grassy field around. The noise of battle could still be heard somewhere distant but not around you anymore. 

You spat and coughed out blood onto your palm, your other hand clawing and digging into your chest trying to calm your rampaging heartbeat. You heard your remaining comrades cry and yell out of grief and solace. The words they yelled were incoherent, only being able to hear ringing. 

But you could almost make out what they're saying, somewhere along the lines of: ‘It’s over.’

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich’s eyelids slowly peel open, feeling the heat of the sun greet his eyes immediately making him wince. He sits up and tries to gain back his senses, letting out a sore groan.

Ajaw perches up at the sound, and starts roaring in his ear: “You were supposed to be dead! I was so thrilled to finally take over your cold body, finally thinking of the horrors I'd run to this land, just to find our contract not working! Just bite the dust already you useless asparagus! Curse the archons!”

“Wh-what happened?” Kinich croaked, his throat stinging him in the process. Completely ignoring ajaw’s tantrum, he looks at the nature around him; There were dismantled weapons, a few dead bodies scattered meters apart, and an awful lot of silence. 

“The fire-head woman destroyed the abyss in the sky, and the magical thing happening to your body that stopped you from dying stopped, and you just crashed into the mountain side and passed out onto the ground. Your head should’ve caved in! Fucking imbecile!” 

Kinich stares at the state of his body; It was a disaster. His jacket was torn with all sorts of holes, his arms full of scars and dried blood and smeared dirt, his gloved hands having numerous rips and tears. All of his digits were present, but a huge scar trailed over the joints of his thumb. ‘So I lost a finger huh?’ he guessed to himself. He looks at his headband dangling around his neck, and feels his face with his hand. He felt a few scars and winces at a cut he had, realizing he had a gaping wound that was actively bleeding out.

Body intact, clothes and weapon secured, with his heart beating in his chest cavity.

But something was still missing. Something was out of place.

He feels his heart drop to the ground, mumbling: “Y/n.”

He hurriedly turns around and tries to run on his feet, a sharp pain kicking into his legs making him fall back onto the soil. He curls into a ball, suddenly feeling all his muscles tormenting his body at once. He groans in pain, feeling parts of his body ache and burn under his skin.

“Yes! Perish!” Ajaw shrieks, making kinich swat at him. He takes a cramped breath— almost like the capacity of his lungs had shrunk— before digging his hands into the sharp blades of grass, dragging his body through the earth.

Each pull of his body made him wish he wasn’t human, pain electrocuting each living cell in his body. Grunts slipped through his teeth, as he tried not to notice the torture he had been enduring for what has felt like forever. He despised the pain he could feel as he crawled not because it hurt him, but because it was proof he was alive and could use his senses. That would remind him that you might not be, only making the weight of his chest heavier.

Red from his wound dripped down his head and slipped onto his lip, making him spit it out bitterly. 

The silvery of blood was inferior to the bitterness in his mouth if he felt your body without its heart beating against his own. Ajaw slowly follows him in the air a meter away, and is almost horrified. Ajaw that day, saw humanity in its most desperate state.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“Let me go!” You yelled, trying to break free from the arms of the other scions of the canopy. They had tried convincing you to go to the village and get your injuries treated, but they mentioned kinich was missing. You heard glass shattering in your ears, almost reality to your eyes breaking just the same. You escaped their captive and tried to find kinich, but they had caught up to you easily.

“You don’t understand! You might die out of blood loss before you even find him!” Said one of the nurses, gripping your wrist tightly. “I have to try!” You snapped, shoving and kicking at the men trying to get a holding of your legs.

“And what if kinich is dead y/n!?” A man retorted, making you freeze in your spot. Words got stuck in your throat, as your eyes blurred for a second. “Kinich would never.. be..” you feel your tongue stiffen, your knees slowly sinking back onto the grass. The men among the helpers quietly argue behind you, scolding each other with ‘don’t say that!’ as your thoughts slowly dim your spirit.

‘Kinich? Dead?’ the thought of kinich dying seemed so far and impossible to you. It was always kinich who seemed to prevent harm from going your way, and knew how to deal with injuries or how to get out of risky situations. But not even the strongest warriors of Natan's ancient tales survived against the toughest attacks of the abyss. You feel like vomiting, the imagination of kinich mangled body suddenly tormenting your thoughts. ‘I still have to try’, you interrupted yourself, reminiscing the oath you took between the both of you to never abandon his side, dead or alive.

You quickly try to pounce off of them, but they're quicker into getting ahold of you again. You try your hardest to tear through their grasp, feeling your skin ache as they tighten their hand around you.

“Please! Just let me try!” you cry out, almost freeing yourself. They object in volumes, a series of ‘No!’s and ‘You need to rest!’ leaving their mouths. You almost feel helpless, but the group of five freeze all together, out of nowhere.

Their eyes are wide, dilated. Their mouths agape, skin draining of color.

You turn your eyes the same direction as theirs, and a sudden chill waves all throughout your body.

It’s kinich.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich locks eyes with you, his breath hitching. Almost terrified you’ll disappear in front of his eyes, he doesn’t waste another second and sprints towards you on his feet, ignoring the sharp pain afflicted to his ligaments. The tribespeople quickly free you from their clutches, stepping back as your aching bodies collided into an embrace.

Everyone else disappears from his world as he takes you into his dirtied arms. His body melt into yours, leaving no space for the opportunity of separation between both of you ever again. He feels you trembling underneath his touch making him hold you tighter. “I’m home.” He whispers into your ear, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders, like bulky armor sliding off of his battered frame— He had died a hundred times to tell you those words.

He can hear you; you're crying into his shoulder, salty tears reviving the scent of the dried blood on his clothes. All he can do is hold you, and take refuge back into your arms after leaving them for what seemed like an eternity. His heart is communicating with yours, beating back and forth at each other. “I was looking for you.” You mumbled against his skin, lips quivering. Your voice is hesitant, as you pull away and look into his tired dark-golden eyes.

“You never lost me in the first place.” He whispers, planting a delicate kiss to your cheek, placing your nimble hand on the left side of his chest to feel evidence of his return. His arms felt lighter, his bones seemed to unbreak, and his wounds were no longer burning. His eyes slowly stickled with tears, burying his face into your hair to let out his shy tears before you had the chance to notice.

His body grew vulnerable under your touch as your tears slowly undid the knot of grief residing in his chest. He almost feels himself shrink back to when he was a lonely child as your mere presence invited the fragile parts of him to be loved again.

His soul yearns for moment like this, where your love is presented raw; It was never about just the beauty. He thawed under your touch even when his clothes and body was drab and scarred. It was never about just the mora, his wallet was no longer weighing in his pocket and he knew that he didn't have to worry about it. It was never about just the distance, it didn't matter if he had to crawl from mondstadt, he still would've tried to come home even if he knew he would die along the way. and it was never about the festivity. he didn't need a festival to celebrate in a way of holding you like he is now. It was always about the bond between both of you and how much joy his heart is beating out just because he can count the beats of yours.

To him, his soul is bound with yours. No matter how far his heroship takes him, he’ll always return to you. For him, that was enough of a reason to come crawling home. 

Kinich escaped heaven a hundred times to come home to you. For you, he would’ve gladly left a hundred times more.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You relish his embrace with tears sticking your lashes together when your mind slowly floats you away to a distant memory, one you feel like you should have forgotten by now.

It was so long ago.. 7 years ago or so?

It happened somewhere.. Here?

With someone.. Kinich.

You were younger teenagers with kinich that time. You had tripped down a short rocky fall while traversing grassy terrain with kinich. A wince squeaks through your gritted teeth, as he poured water onto the gash you scored on your stumbling. “I’ve always told you to stay sharp when we go out on a walk, but you never listen.” He grumbles, wiping off the dirt that trailed down your calf. “..And everytime you trip, it’s always me who has to clean you up, bandage you, and carry you home.”  He treated your wound as you sat on a rock, awkwardly playing with your fingertips.

You can tell he was just worried about you, you always managed to injure yourself when he took his eyes off of you. He was already pressured on finding a way home, but you just had to go get your knee busted. “Sorry.” you mumble, heat rising to your skin out of embarrassment. “If you really were sorry, you would actually look before you land your feet.” he said bitterly, undoing his bandana, and wrapping it around your knee tightly. As he tightened the knot, he said: “You know I won't always be around to protect you right?” 

“Yeah..” you shuffle your feet around. “But I-i swear I looked before I stepped okay! But the dip was.. was hiding under all the grass.” You attempt to defend yourself, looking at him with guilt written all over your face.

“Can you just promise me you’ll make heaven wait when I'm not around?” He sighs, before helping you get back on your feet, his arm snaking around your waist, as he scooped your shoulder over his shoulder. “Only if you promise too!” you scoff. He rolls his eyes, “As if I'll ever die before you. Seriously, one day I might just be running a commission and bump into you just bleeding to death from your knee.” you grimace under the thought. “Don’t say such horrible things!”

“Then promise me.” “..I promise.”

BLOOD SUCKING FREAKS!

your faves as vampires— multifandom headcanons

fandom list— vnc (the case study of Vanitas), bsd, jjk, mha, one piece, aot, kny, csm, genshin impact (brings back memories…), haikyuu, soul eater, hxh + more!

cws: nsfw?, blood, biting, possessive/yandere themes, dark themes, bites can be used as a sort of aphrodisiac, overstim themes, mentions of bruising, chasing, “hunting”, mentions of being tied/chained up, some are darker than others due to the characters being more inherently “evil”, unedited, you can tell who my favs are, sorry if some are short... tell me if I missed anything!

MDNI

He’s so sweet and kind with you, always ensuring you’re fully prepared to take him. His big rough hands toying and prodding in such a gentle manner that you can’t help but cry out for more. Tears prick the corner of your eyes at his slow pace, you’re not sure how much longer you could keep going like this. His hands trail up and down leaving goosebumps across your skin. His eyes sharpen as he peers down at the junction of your neck. He tilts his head down, inhaling deeply as he drags his tongue up your collarbone. He hovers over your pulse point, sharp fangs grazing the sensitive spot and you shiver at the feeling.

“May I?”

His voice is thick and laced with lust. you feebly nod your head, letting out a small whimper. He hesitates slightly before biting down. It is weak, and only just pierces the skin enough for it to bleed. But what did you expect your hunk of a vampire is just soft.

Maybe a little too soft.

— Izuku, Tamaki, All might, Nighteye, Nanami, Higuruma, Ino, Rengoku, Gyomei, Kunikida, Fukuzawa, Jouno, Atsushi, Roland, Zack Fair, Armin, Shiro, Kunigami, Reo, Kurapika, Cyno, Aether, Gepard, Hinata, Sugawara, Yamaguchi + your fav

Your skin is already littered with bruises and teeth marks. Small beads of blood trickle down your chest and he carefully laps at them. He's been at it for hours, marking you up, making sure whoever dares to look at you knows you belong to him. But who could blame him

Your flesh is so soft and tender between his teeth he can’t help but want to take a bite. It's like you've put him in a trance. His gorgeous girlfriend, who's so eager and pliable to his touch. You were practically made for him. And the sweet sounds you make when he pushes deeper inside of you, it's not his fault your moans are so hypnotizing.

He doesn't normally get so worked up, but you've been riling him up all day. Teasing him with your touches, whispering dirty words into his ear, it's only natural he would break at some point.

He didn’t mean to get rough, but you just tasted so good he couldn’t resist. You won’t blame him… right?

— Xiao, Ayato, Zhongli, Diluc, Alhaitham, Aizawa, Shoto, Shinso, Bakugo, Gojo, Noritoshi, Vanitas, Uzui, Giyuu, Zoro, Akutagawa, Chuuya, Aki, Rin, Isagi, Shidou, Sae, Tobio, Suna, Oikawa, Reno, Leon, Eren, Jean, Levi, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan + your fav

He's so messy.

Spending hours in between your thighs, kissing the supple skin, and also leaving his claim in their place. he's basically eating you alive, bite marks indented in the flesh, and he hasn't even touched you yet. You're whining for him to stop teasing, pleading for him to give you what you want. And who is he to deny?

Arms hooked under your thighs, keeping you in place from thrashing around. He buries his face into you, his nose nudging up against your clit, and the sensation has you jolting. He gives a tentative lick, eyes shooting up to look at your reaction. Your hands nestle into his hair, tugging at the roots as a moan slips out from your lips. And after that, he's ruthless, eating you out like you're a 5-star meal (you are). He's kissing and licking and sucking, and god, whatever the hell he's doing it's making your mind blank.

You don't have it in you to care about how loud you're being, and he doesn't seem to care either. In fact, they seem to encourage him to rip those pretty pretty sounds from you.

“So sweet f’me baby,”

Slick is practically covering the lower half of his face, but he doesn't seem to care. His eyes are blown wide, giving you a dazed out stare as he continues to lap at your core.

This was going to be a long night.

— Noè, Choso, Connie, Luffy, Tighnari, Kazuha, Itto, Kaeya, Leorio, Ranpo, Techou, Tachihara, Cloud, Bachira, Chigiri, Nagi, Kaiser, Aiku, Kuroo, Tanaka, Miya twins, Hizashi, Mirio, Jin, Hawks, Tamaki, Sero, Denki, Kirishima, Sampo, Jiaoqui + your fav

You're such a brat.

You're lucky he still puts up with you after everything you've pulled. He glares down at you, the eye contact making you uneasy. Your mewling and whimpering did nothing to sway him. Your hands are still tied behind your back as his thighs continue to spread your legs open. His hands as roaming your body, squealing and pinching in places that make you jump, before he leaves them to play with your nipples.

His touch is light and teasing, driving you insane. Your nipples harden under his touch, embarrassing sounds escaping your throat as he continues to toy with them. You shove your face into the pillows next to you to muffle them. One of his hands leaves your chest to grip your chin, tilting your head back to stare directly at him. He wants to see every expression you make.

The tension between your legs becomes too much to ignore and you begin to discreetly hump his thigh, desperate for any kind of friction to relieve you. At least you thought you were discreet. You don't far before his hands are off you and he's shoving you away. With teary eyes you stare at him confused, why did he stop you?

You're needy and sensitive and you want him to touch you again. You beg for him to continue, but all he does is let out a low chuckle. He doesn't plan on letting you off the hook so easily. He wants to make sure this stays ingrained in your head so that you'll never make the same mistake again.

Because you're his, and he'll spend every second reminding you of that fact.

— August Ruthven, Sanemi, Iguro, Akaza, Geto, Dazai, Mori, Fukuchi, Shigiraki, Overhaul, Blade, Reiner, (s4) Eren, Feitan, Chrollo + your fav

He doesn't know why you keep trying, why you continue to run away. He doesn't understand whatever false sense of freedom you feel when he lets you out. Did you really think you could outrun him? Oh, how idiotic. If he had it in him he would pity you, so dumb and naive. It seems like you still haven't learned your lesson.

Your wrists and ankles are bound together, chained up to the wall. Tears prick your eyes but you know he won't care. He's leaning over you, peering down at your small form as you keep yanking at the restraints in hopes of being set free. You and he both know it's futile, so why keep fighting?

He grips your arms, sharp claws pinching the skin. Without warning he hastily leans down to sink his teeth into your neck. You scream out and thrash at the pain but he holds you still, makes you take it.

It doesn't take long for the venom to enter your systems, an intoxicating feeling clouding your mind and a strange but familiar heat coursing through your body. Your body tensed, heart-beat picking up as you tried to deny what was happening.

He licked the wound closed before stepping back. his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you squirm as the aphrodisiac set in. You scream at him, curses getting mixed in with small yelps as your body becomes sensitive to your clothes. But he isn't too worried about that. He'll break you one way or another.

And then you'll see that there is no way of escaping him.

— Sukuna, Kenjaku, Muzan, Douma, Fyodor, Dabi + your fav

HAPPY HALLOWEEN FREAKS!

Anyway just another disclaimer: I don't romanticize the actions performed in the last one, idk it just doesn't do anything for me, I also (personally) think it's unhealthy but wtv floats your boat ig!! (I say this like it isn't the longest section) IDK, it was just kinda fun to write, I've been meaning to get into darker themes(I have a Douma fic I've been meaning to write) so I wanted to go all out and see how it felt.

I love writing heacanons, ahhhhhhhh, I probably won't edit these so hopefully they aren't too bad!

@ CHERICOS 2024 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate or plagiarise my works

pro-valorant player!kinich loves it when you cook him a meal when he's in the midst of practicing for an upcoming tournament. always, he'll kiss you right after you set his plate on the table beside his computer setup. oh, he won't forget to say 'thank you', 'i love you', and a praise or compliment.

pro-valorant player!kinich who likes having you sit on his lap when he plays casually, at times that he's not streaming valorant gameplays just because, he's more than glad to have you giggling on his lap trying to understand whatever is going on in his screen. sure enough you know he's the best player with the straight victories and mvps.

(oh and when he sees the bloody red 'defeat', he instantly hides his face on some part of your body—your neck, chest, back, shoulder, arm—or you'd catch his lowering head with your hands, cupping his face and kissing him. "they suck, babe.")

pro-valorant player!kinich who desperately wants to have you beside him on stage when he's declared to be the most valuable player in the competition. but, of course, kinich respects your preference to not have your name and face out there in public where who knows what fans are capable of scheming?

his eyes would always wander in the crowd as he delivers his speech, his gaze would linger a little longer when he finds you smiling at him with a big banner. his cheeks would flush with the known amount of "go kinich" and "kinich my duelist" banners inside your room. (talk about being his number one fan, no one can do it like you.)

pro-valorant player!kinich who always gets asked about his dating life, oh how badly does he want to just spill it right then and there that he's madly in love with his number one fan. you, of course, who would it be?

"my dating life is personal and private. whether i have a partner or not is none of the internet's business, i will share to the world when i want to."

(oh he definitely wants to.)

pro-valorant player!kinich who gets to roam around the tournament host country's tourist spots with you. he may not look like the type of boyfriend to screencapture each frame per second, but the candid photos of you in his phone argue to believe otherwise.

and it's those (selected) photos that pique his fans' curiosity—who is that hand in his vct champions 2024 in japan post? or those extra snacks because kinich doesn't enjoy those kinds of delicacies on a normal day?

or to who does he dedicate the songs in his instagram stories to? seems like those places in his highlights weren't just a scenery to kinich when the songs are all romantic, is this a glimpse of what it's like to be loved by kinich?

Sacrilege

Knight Rengoku x Female reader

Summary: Sir Kyojuro Rengoku is appointed as the princess personal bodyguard due to rising threats of violence from the enemy kingdom. He would do anything his dear princess orders and desires. His sole purpose is to keep the princess safe and content.

Tags: Porn with a bit of plot, slight dom reader, oral (female receiving), virginity loss, p in v, fingering, masturbation, missionary, riding, arranged marriage, forbidden love

Word count: 6.7k

* ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ * 𓂂 ꙳ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ * 𓂂 ꙳ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ * 𓂂 ꙳

Every aspect of your life was controlled since the day you were born. Not only your life but also the one of your parents. They were promised to each other for the sole reason of royal bloodlines. That was the same direction your life was currently headed and you did not, could not, come to terms with it.

The idea of being stuck in a loveless marriage for the sole reason of pumping out babies filled you with something worse than dread. Looking at your mother was like looking into the life of your future self, a sad and miserable reflection staring back at you. All your Mother accomplished in her life was to give the royal family 6 children. Your brothers, however, had a better life set for them. The eldest was the sole heir to the thrown and was given the opportunity to chose his own wife as long as she was nobility which is a far better freedom than the one you were granted.

You were set to be married off to an enemy kingdom once negotiations were to be complete. You thanked god that their king was just as stubborn as your father when it came to settlements and you prayed the quarrel would never end. But once those negotiations were settled, your job would be to marry the eldest son and provide as many children as possible and as soon as possible. In all honesty, you would rather die before that happens.

The only thing you were able to control in your sad life, was your personal bodyguard. A knight specifically assigned to you when threats to the kingdom arose. The royal family had to protect you at all costs, after all, you were going to be used to settle disagreements between kingdoms.

That knight was to follow your orders without hesitation. After all, who would suspect you ever having ill intentions? The knight followed every single of your commands. The only one order he would never obey was to leave your side. There was a time where you would desperately try to shake him off your trail. He would follow you everywhere and would always stay exactly four steps behind you. He was like a bloodhound. No matter where you hid or how hard you tried to lose him, he would always find his way to you.

At the end, he became an aspect of your life you were able to control. After you got used to him being a thorn by your side, you decided to push his limits and see what orders he would follow. At first you requested silly tasks for your own amusement like making him walk your dog and clean up after him during your morning strolls or make him cut up your food and feed you as if you were a child. More than anything, you expected him to be enraged and snap at you for treating him like a common maid, but he never gave you the satisfaction. However, as time went on you noticed that any task involving him being in close proximity to you would incite a flushed reaction from his end.

Once you caught wind of that, it became the only thing that brought you amusement. Your demands became bolder like asking him to help you change into your over complicated dresses or making him give you massages when you became too stressed. All of this just to see that flustered expression of his. He never once declined any of your commands which you found entertaining. Of course, all of this was done behind closed doors. The rest of the servants tended to be gossipy and you did not want them to spread any misinformation.

However, one rainy night completely changed the dynamic of your relationship. The stress of being scrutinized for every aspect of your life, for every decision you made, had finally caught up to you. Nothing in your life was under your control except for this. As your hands wondered beneath your sleeping gown you realized this was something you would always be in control of. The need to forget everything that made you worry was strong, and you desperately sought that sweet release.

This was the only time during the night when you could be alone. Your knight would either be right outside your bedroom doors or patrolling in the nearby area, so you figured that as long as you were silent, you would be able to obtain that sweet release.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips when your fingers lightly brushed against your clit. The action bringing excitement and anticipation to the rest of your body. The bundle of nerves was aching to be touched and you granted that wish by drawing soft circles on the area. This caused the rest of your body to tremble as breathy sighs escaped your lips. Being the only female in the royal family meant that you were a virgin. You were promised to whoever your father decided to trade you off with.

This, however, did not change the fact that you were able to pleasure yourself. You reveled in the idea of being in control of something. Being able to control your climax was enough to settle your nerves. However, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you felt as if something was missing.

You continued to draw circles around your clit. You slowly increased your speed as the pleasure caused your legs to tremble. Soft gasps escaped your lips as you felt the wetness gather in your core. The finger pleasuring your clit soon wondered to your aching hole. Your finger slipped in easily due to the wetness. Opening your legs wider caused a shudder to escape your lips as you granted yourself better access. Adding another finger, you curled and scissored them searching for that spot that never failed to drive you over the edge.

What a sight you were. Your legs were up and spread open revealing your sopping cunt. Your lips were swollen from how hard you bit them trying to keep quiet, and your hair clung to your neck and forehead from the slight sweat you were building up. Once your fingers curled to that sweet spot, you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out soft moans.

Accounting the rain, you believe no one would be able to hear your sharp gasps as you slowly built up your orgasm, or even the lewd wet sounds that filled your chambers. However, you were greatly mistaken.

After finishing his patrol faster than usual, Rengoku made his way back to your chambers only to be met by strange noises. Your sharp gasps made him believe you were having trouble breathing, so he took it upon himself to urgently check on you.

Without warning, your bedroom doors were swung open and his eyes shot wide open when he witnessed the compromising position you were in.

The first thought that ran through your head as your eyes met was anger. You were annoyed that he interrupted you when you were about to climax.

While maintaining eye contact, your fingers sped up. The squelching noises growing louder and your shudders were the only noises that filled the room. You desperately kept trying to reach that high again. “Well, are you just going stand there like a buffoon, or are you going to do your job and help me?” Your lust took the reigns as you spewed those words from your mouth.

He stayed silent for a moment which gave you enough time to come to your senses and realize what you were asking of him. Before you could speak, with that same flushed expression that always brought you amusement, he answered,

“As you wish my princess.”

That night set a chain of events that led you to the moment you were currently in, his head hidden underneath your dress as his tongue swirled around your clit. Anytime you demanded anything like this from him, he never argued or offered his opinion. He just followed orders like a good soldier. There was never any penetration since he always made sure to use his fingers and/or mouth to drive you over the edge.

Sometimes you wondered if he enjoyed this as much as you, since he never stopped until you tapped out from exhaustion or overstimulation.

You were currently supposed to be on your way to the opera, but instead you were in the back of the stagecoach with your dress ridden up to your hips as he held your thighs back, spreading you open for his tongue. The trees in your large estate shielded the stagecoach from prying eyes and was far enough to drown the lewd sounds you would make. You didn’t even make it out of the estate before your lust and impatience took over.

“Mmm… your tongue feels heavenly.” Every time you would compliment him, you could feel his body trembling almost as if your compliments brought him pleasure.

He just hummed in acknowledgment. The vibrations adding to your pleasure as his tongue delved deeper into your sopping hole. You couldn’t stop your hips as they moved along his face. Your body desperately seeking further stimulation. Your trembling fingers tangled into his golden locks pulling on them the closer you felt the dam break. A part of you would’ve like to reward him, to make him feel as good as you were feeling, but the way his eyes met yours along with his flushed cheeks and the juices dripping down his mouth hinted that this was more than enough for him.

As he sucked on your clit, a long thick finger teased your hole. He would slip the tip of his finger in, the wetness allowing him easy access, and softly begin to pump and curve his finger. The sensation was too much that you felt the familiar build up of your orgasm. It was so close that your vision went dark from the anticipation and the pleasure.

“Please… I’m so close.” You managed to whisper.

If only you knew you would never have to beg anything from him. That was not your place.

“Anything you wish, my princess.”

His mouth connected to your clit once more while his finger increased its speed causing your legs to tremble around his shoulders. The grip you had on his golden locks was enough to almost rip his hair out, but he did not complain. His eyes connected to your face as you came undone around him with a loud groan. You tried to bite your knuckles to stop you from making too much noise, and how he wished you could just be as loud as you wanted. To let everyone know that a commoner like him brought the princess to tears with how intense her orgasms were. The orgasms that HE caused.

He licked you clean along with his fingers, savoring your sweet taste.

“Well, it looks like we should be headed back soon before we raise any alarms. You did well Rengoku.” You said as you fixed your dress and hair, trying to get rid of the evidence these acts ever took place.

As Kyojuro took his place in the driver’s seat, he tried so hard to make his throbbing cock go down. He tried taking deep breaths along with thinking of any other distracting thoughts either the sky, the trees or the birds, but you always made your way back into the spotlight of his mind. How he wished he could claim you as his, but he knew that was not his place. You were royalty and he was just a farm boy who wanted to fight for his kingdom. If the royal family ever found out about his sacrilege towards the princess, he knew he would get executed without question.

But you were just so addicting. It was like doing heroin, he knew it was wrong, but he could just not resist the high. The night that he walked in on you was not on purpose. The noises you were making were almost as if you were having difficulty breathing which sent him into his fight or flight response. When you asked him to help you, every sane part of his being was screaming at him to turn around and leave, to pretend he just didn’t walk in on you knuckle deep and leaking all over the bed, but he was weak and you were divine.

Every time you requested him after that, he never failed to be there. It was as if you had him on a tight leash, always available to do your bidding. You were his Aphrodite and he would always worship you as such.

Once he was able to calm down, he set the carriage on its way back to the castle. However, both of your hearts dropped when you saw your father waiting outside the castles doors. There were times when you would go months without seeing him, so seeing him here without it being a special occasion or without any notice, made your thoughts race and hearts drop.

After holding the carriage door open for you and helping you down, Kyojuro broke the tense silence first,

“Your majesty.” He kneeled in front of the king, not able to make eye contact. You, on the other hand, gave a curt bow and tried to settle your nerves. Your hands began to sweat and your heart felt as if it was going to jump out of your chest. Your father had not said a single word since you arrived, and it was difficult to read his hard expression.

“Where have you been?”

“We just came back from the opera. I was beginning to feel as if I was going to die of boredom.” You fanned yourself, acting nonchalant.

“Guard, at ease and stay put.” Your father’s booming voice commanded towards Rengoku. Whatever it was that your father wanted to talk to you about, he made it obvious that he wasn’t in a hurry. It was almost as if he knew, and that paranoid part of yourself kept screaming at you that he knew.

You feared he would send his guards to execute Rengoku right there at the steps where you left him. Why else would he separate him from you? Still, you weren’t dumb enough to begin rambling first, as you waited for him to begin with whatever it was he wanted to discuss.

“I want you to get your affairs in order.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Father?” You urged him to continue.

“The east kingdom and I have come to an agreement. You will be sent to their castle to familiarize yourself with your new home and your new fiancé. I will join you in a few days time to oversee the royal wedding.”

The wedding would seal whatever agreement they had come to terms with. Hearing those words made your heart drop to your stomach. You knew this day would come, but you were not ready. It was too soon. You were not ready to leave everything behind and be bound to a complete stranger.

You were not ready to part with your knight.

“Another thing I wanted to mention, once you get married, I want you to… consummate the marriage and be with child straight away. That will be the only way for this peace treaty to fully become fulfilled. Do I make myself clear?”

You bowed slightly, not as a sign of respect, but as a way to hide your expressions. “Yes father.”

“Good. You shall head out tonight. I want everything done as soon as possible so I can forget about this mess.” He walked away without another word. As soon as you heard the palace’s doors doors close behind you, signaling his departure, you dropped to your knees and began to sob. You could feel the servants eyes on you as they continued to pass by, trying to get their chores done, but none of them dared say a word to you. It was not their place to speak their mind in matters regarding the kingdom.

You were so engrossed in your own thoughts and sadness, that you did not feel the soft touch on your shoulder.

“Princess… we need to start packing.” Came Rengoku’s soft and reassuring voice.

Taking deep breaths, you tried to regain your composure. You let him help you up and guide you to your chambers.

Once the door closed behind you, you continued to quietly sob. Without a word, Rengoku began putting together the things he knew you wanted to take. His fingers caressed the material of your dresses as he placed them on the bed. Almost as if he was trying to memorize the feel of the material. Rengoku felt defeated too. The most likely scenario would be that your new husband would probably send him back to his kingdom. Rengoku will be seen as an outsider and a spy if he was to stay there, so there was no way he would ever see you again after the wedding.

This day was bound to happen, and he thought he was prepared. If only things were different. If only he were royalty, maybe he would’ve had a chance to remain by your side if at least just for a little while longer.

“I’ll get a carriage ready and send a maid up to help you pack.” When he was about to reach for the doorknob, he felt your arms wrap around his torso. Your head nuzzling against his back armor. He froze under your touch, unsure of how to proceed or what to say.

“Please stay…” you sobbed, “I want to remain by your side as long as possible.”

You were afraid he was gonna push you away. What if he did not adore you the way you adored him? What if he just followed your orders because he was your subordinate?

Now that you were coming to terms with the fact that you might never see him again, your true feelings for him began to rise. At first you believed that your feelings were just driven by lust, but now you realized that you did not see yourself without him. Without your protector.

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. I’m so scared.”

This was the first time you spoke to him like an equal. You were showing your vulnerable side to him and all he could do was hold you.

“It’s your duty. Just like my duty is to protect you.”

“Then protect me. Don’t let this happen… please.” He remained silent at your request. This would be the first time when he was not sure he would be able to follow through with your orders.

——

You tried not to keep sobbing as you were on your way to your new home. The only sounds that filled the air were the thuds of the horses hooves hitting the dirt road, and the occasional snorting from the horses. You massaged your eyelids to keep them from swelling. The coldness of your fingertips soothed the area, but no matter how hard you tried, silent tears continued to slip down your rosy cheeks. You didn’t want to arrive at the new kingdom with obvious signs of distress.

Kyojuro had been silent since you spoke about how you really felt towards this situation. You figured it was due to the fact that he was just following your orders and he did not really care for you the way you thought he did.

You sighed heavily as you stared out the window of your carriage. The rustic buildings became less and less and soon replaced by the trees of the thick forest that swallowed your kingdom. The feeling of hopelessness consumed you as you realized there was no way around this. This was your fate. This was what you were born to do and your only use as a princess.

The trip towards the east kingdom was long enough to require staying overnight at a formal hotel. There was an upcoming small town that belonged to the east kingdom which was were you would stay for the night. The last night of the life as you knew it. The last night you would spend with your knight.

——

You watched the stars out of the spacious balcony of the luxurious hotel you were staying at. You could see Rengoku near the stables, settling the horses of your carriage down for the night. He was so gentle with the horses. Offering them small smiles and pets as he spoke to them. Most likely telling the horses sweet words as if they were puppies. You couldn’t help but smile at that. It made you realize that whoever Rengoku ended up with, he would be nothing but loving and gentle towards them. How envious you were of that person. Slight guilt built up in your gut as you realized you basically took advantage of him. As his superior there was no way he could deny your requests without fear of retaliation. You made a mental note to apologize to him before arriving at your destination.

Once you changed into your nightgown, you tried to settle beneath the covers and enjoy the last night you had for yourself, but the room felt dark, cold and lonely especially in the giant lone luxury bed you were in. The heavy armored steps outside your door let you know that Rengoku had returned from the stables into his assumed position, and you were debating whether to ask him to join you in bed.

Of course, there was no ill intent behind your request. You just wanted these feeling of loneliness to go away.

As if he read your thoughts, there was a knock on the door before his deep voice asked if he could come in.

“Just checking if you have anything out of the ordinary to report. Although we are on the high end of town, it does tend to attract thieves.”

“Can I request one last thing from you? You know, before our journey ends tomorrow?” You interrupted, your mind too preoccupied to acknowledge what he was saying.

“Anything my princess.”

“Can you lay with me? It is a chilly night and I don’t feel the fireplace warming up the room enough.” You requested shyly, your eyes not able to meet his amber ones as you were sure your cheeks were flushed. This was not the worst thing you’ve requested from him, so you weren’t sure why you were acting this pathetic.

“As you wish.” He bowed slightly. A sign of the respect and admiration he still had for his princess.

Before joining you, he began to take off his armor, revealing a white long sleeve dress shirt along with black trousers. The shirt fit loosely around his torso, a deep v-cut showing off his perfect chiseled chest. Your hands ached to feel his body under your fingertips. As much as you invited him in with good faith, you couldn't help the filthy thoughts that clouded your mind.

Little did you know, he felt the same way too. The way your nightgown clung to your body in a way that your usual dresses failed to do, leaving nothing to the imagination. Not to mention your cute messy hair that was usually in a neat and elegant style. All these factors made him want to defile you, but you were the princess. You were royalty, and he believed you shouldn’t be requesting things like this from a commoner like him.

You scooted over leaving a generous amount of space between you as to not make him feel uncomfortable, and as much as you wanted to reach out to him and feel him underneath your fingertips, you turned away from him acting indifferent.

However, as you were trying to drift off into sleep, you felt him close the space between you and drape an arm over your hip.

“You stated you were cold, I cant let my princess suffer like that.”

Your heart leaped every time he called you ‘his princess’. It was a warm fuzzy feeling that spread across your chest which you’ve never felt before. It made you nuzzle against him, cherishing the feeling of his warmth that you might never feel again.

With how comfortable you felt, you began to drift off again, that is until you felt something hard poking your lower half. You weren’t as clueless as to not know what it was. He believed you were fast asleep with how your chest softly rose and fell, so he let his mind wander and delve into those lewd thoughts of his which immediately made his cock ache from how hard it was.

You didn't dare move, enjoying the way he was rubbing slowly against you. His breathing became shallow and low whimpers would leave his mouth here and there. The noises he was making made wetness pool between your legs. You were aching to feel more, aching for him to cloud your mind and make you forget all your problems like he always does.

He felt pathetic, but he couldn’t control his body. He felt like a dog, but you were just so soft and warm. The desire was unbearable unlike anything he’s ever felt in his life.

You knew it was wrong, but your body moved on its own. You rubbed your ass against him making him let out a painful wince.

“Princess… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

You interrupted him by turning around and crashing your lips into his. It was a heated kiss full of desperation and desire. Teeth clashed against each other as you took control of the kiss. Your tongue dancing with his as your hands held unto his face desperately, as if you were afraid he would disappear.

“I need you my knight.” You whined against his bruised lips. A string of saliva connecting your mouths.

It was as if a switch had flipped. Any thoughts of future consequences were shoved deep into his mind and all he could focus on was your lustful gaze and how soft and warm your body felt against his. You belonged to him for tonight while he has always been yours.

His hand came up to your face. His rough thumb caressing your flushed cheek. He looked at you with so much adoration as if he were staring at a deity. “Then use me as you please, my princess.”

That was your cue as you closed the space between you again. Your hands roamed his muscular arms and broad chest while he still seemed hesitant to touch you, but he was just afraid he would loose control and take over. You were his superior, so you were in charge. Desperate to feel him, you guided his hand under your nightgown and towards your chest. His large hand engulfed the soft mound making a soft moan escape your lips. The way his fingers pinched and groped your breasts was making the ache between your legs unbearable.

“Please… I need more.” You whispered against his lips, begging for some relief.

“Anything for you, my love.” He began to place kisses against your cheeks trailing down your jaw and neck just to stop briefly by your chest. He nuzzled your right breast, taking your clothed nipple into his mouth while he pinched your left breast. It was almost as if he was teasing you since you couldnt stop the way your hips lifted trying to obtain some sort of friction.

He felt comfortable enough now to worship your body properly without the fear of being caught lingering in the back of his mind. He wanted to take his time exploring every inch of your body, since he never had the chance to before, but seeing the way you desperately sought relief made him take pity on you.

You soon felt his breath against your clothed pussy making you shudder. God, how he had missed your pussy. If it were up to him, he would be tongue deep in your pussy for hours. Your wetness had leaked and formed a Heavy wet patch on your lacy panties. He couldn’t stop himself from licking a stripe along your clothed wet slit. You tasted so divine that it was almost intoxicating. He was like a man who had been wondering the desert for days before finally having a sip of water.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath before ripping your underwear off of you making you yelp. Without missing a beat, his mouth enclosed around your clit as he softly began to suck. Your thighs trembled around him as you moaned, finally being touched exactly where you wanted. Soon the room was filled with lewd wet sounds that didn’t fail to turn you own even more.

“Such a good boy.” You whined into your hand trying to keep your moans low.

“Tasty… you’re so tasty… so sweet..” his incoherent babbling filled the air. The first time he’s ever been vocal while you performed these sinful acts. He would usually stare at your face as he lavished your folds, but this time he was entranced with the way your tight wet cunt would swallow his fingers. He loved seeing the way your hole would clench around his fingers the closer he drove you to your release.

“Use your mouth more.” You shuddered. Your sentence coming out more demanding than you intended, but either way he was eager to comply, moaning as his mouth encircled your throbbing clit.

Once he felt your thighs tighten around his head as you released around his mouth, he couldn’t help but to desperately fuck himself into his wrist. Your praises and the way you moaned his name making his cock throb. It was almost painful how desperately he wished to be inside you.

As if you read his thoughts, your hands cupped his cheeks as you dragged him up to your face for a deep messy kiss. “Put it in. Please put it in.” You whined desperately against his lips.

Those words were enough to cloud his judgment and to silence the voice in the back of his head screaming about the consequences.

“As my princess desires. I am yours to command.” He moaned against your cheek. His lips leaving sloppy wet kisses down your jaw and neck. He quickly rose to remove his dress shirt, but too desperate to remove his trousers.

He was mindful of your virginity as he slowly and steadily guided the head of his cock through your weeping hole. Your legs immediately clenching around his hips due to the painful sting. Your wincing pulled at the strings of his heart.

“Shhh… I know my princess. It’ll feel better I promise.” He kissed and nibbled on your lips as a way to distract you from the pain. Oh how hard it was trying to not just slam into you. Your tightness causing whimpers and moans to escape from his lips.

“So tight princess… all for me.” He babbled. His eyes hazed over with lust at the way your squirmed and twitched beneath him.

The pain began to slowly subside as the stretching of his cock began to cloud your mind with pleasure.

“Mmm… faster.” You commanded breathlessly as your soft hands roamed his hard body. You loved the way his muscles felt under your touch, hard and contracting every where you roamed.

His hips began to roll faster, filling the room with sinful squelching. The slap of skin on skin grew louder and you feared the sounds could be heard by other patrons down the hall.

He whimpered and moaned against the crook of your neck, trying his best to keep quiet. You felt so heavenly around his cock and all he could think about was to fill you to the brim with his cum.

“My beautiful princess… ah~ I want you to carry my babies.” The pleasure became so unbearable that he had to close his eyes. Just seeing your beautiful flushed face with your swollen lips and disheveled hair was enough to make him want to cum. Not to mention the way your innocent looking eyes locking with his made him feel.

“I would love to carry your children my handsome knight.” That was all he needed to hear to release deep inside you as his moans filled the room. The strange feeling of his warmth inside was enough to make you join him in that high. Your legs trembled at his sides as you clenched the sheets beneath you. This was much more intense than when he used his mouth.

He collapsed next to you, shoving his sweaty golden locks out of his face. Any timidness that lingered quickly disappeared as you craved that high again.

“Awww… don’t tell me my knight is spent already.” Came your taunting voice as you crawled up his lap. You rubbed your juices along his softening cock which immediately became rigid at the sensation of your cum dripping down his shaft.

“You told me I could use you for my pleasure, and I’m not done yet.” There was a new malicious look of lust glazed over your eyes that ignited the fire within his core again.

“Let me worship you like you deserve.” His heart stopped as he watch you remove your robe. The fireplace reflected the slight sheen coating your beautiful body. He swore he had died and gone to heaven. This couldn’t be real. There was no way you were about to sit and bounce on his cock.

“Fuck… you don’t have to do this. I’ve defiled you enough, my sweet.” His hips betrayed his words as he thrusted himself between your folds.

You made him shut up as you shoved yourself down his length in one swift move. Both of your moans filling the room. Any concerns about being heard long forgotten. His cock stretched you so deliciously that it was addictive. It made you wish you could have his cock deep inside you all the time.

His throbbing tip hit your g spot perfectly that with each bounce, it drove you closer to the edge. Yet, you didn’t miss the way he trembled and whimpered beneath you. He was so blinded by pleasure and he demonstrated it by balling his fists into the sheets, anything to keep him grounded to reality.

“I… I want you to fill me up again… Kyojuro.” You felt so close, but you didn’t want to climax before feeling him coat your tight he walls.

He groaned hearing his name roll so sweetly from your pretty mouth. It was enough for him to sit as he held you so tightly he shoved you down on his cock as deep as he could before releasing inside you. He moaned breathlessly against your ear leaving opened mouth kisses wherever he could reach.

There was something about watching this man come undone beneath you. There’s nothing like seeing your powerful, indomitable warrior reduced to a whimpering wreck as he loses himself in you. It’s a power which omly served to intensify your climax.

You felt your orgasm drip down your thighs and dirty the trousers he never took off.

“I love you… my beautiful princess.” His confession made your heart still. All the thoughts of your responsibilities rushed back and hit you like freight train. All you could do was remain silent as you held onto him. Not knowing what to do or what to say.

He felt as if he overstepped his boundaries, but he couldn’t stop himself from uttering his next sentence.

“Let’s run away together.” He muttered against your neck making you shoot up in surprise.

“I’ll look after you. I’ll provide for you. If you’re with child I’ll look after both of you.”

You remained speechless.

“It may not be the lavish life you’re accustomed to, but I promise I’ll take care of you.” He kissed your cheek and forehead. His kisses just dripping with the affection he had for you.

You really did not want to go through with the arranged marriage. You wanted nothing more than to remain by your knights side, but what about your kingdom?

Well it’s not like you came from a loving family, but you couldn’t help but still feel guilty. Not to mention you would probably end up executed once your future husband finds out that you are no longer pure.

“I love you too, Kyojuro.” You held his face so softly as you brought him in for a soft kiss. A kiss where you just poured all your emotions for him. No one had ever made you feel the way he did. His heart fluttered at your actions.

He chuckled against your lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up and let’s get the hell out of here, my love.”

——

Running away with Kyojuro was the best decision you could’ve ever made. You both ended up at his family’s farm which was secluded deep in the woods at the base of a mountain, away from either kingdom. It was located on an elevated hill that was covered in beautiful sunflowers in which, once you reached the top, gave a beautiful view of the mountains. It was secluded enough from the nearest village that no one would ever think of looking for you there.

You doubted anyone would try to look for you anyways. Kyojuro made sure to make the carriage seemed like it was attacked and ransacked before setting it on fire. He also made sure to leave his weapon and his armor damaged enough that it made it seem like he did not survive the attack.

Word from the nearby village, according to Rengokus family, was that your father blamed the other kingdom for your disappearance and declared war on them. Even though the other kingdom denied the accusations, your father had made up his mind and nothing could change his views. He was a stubborn man who believed you would never run away from your duty. Not to mention the state he himself found the carriage. It just helped seal any doubt he had.

But you could care less about what your family was up to.

Kyojuro had introduced you to his parents along with his little brother. To say you were shocked by how similar the Rengoku men looked was an understatement. And if his family recognized you, they didn’t say a word. The story Kyojuro had told them was that he had met you in the nearby town your castle was located in and that it was love at first sight. Neither you or his family doubted that part of the story.

His family accepted you with nothing but love and open arms. And as the years went by, they became the family you never had. You had grown close with his mother who taught you everything she knew from cooking to baking to house chores.

Of course, Kyojuro would never let you lift a finger when he was around. As much as you protested, he promised to keep treating you as a princess and that’s what he was going to do as long as you were by his side.

Eventually, he along with the help of his father, ended up building a small cottage on the other side of his family’s property, and when Kyojuro had decided that enough time had passed from your disappearance, he proposed and held a small wedding ceremony in the family farm where no one other than family and a small amount of close friends where invited. Not soon after his parents began asking for grandchildren. How you did not become pregnant your first night together will always be a mystery to you.

But eventually, you became pregnant multiple times throughout the years and gifted him four beautiful children. Three boys and one girl who were the spitting image of their father. Oh how you held a grudge against him for that.

However, no matter how much time passed, he never failed to make you feel as giddy as he did when you first met. He never broke his promise about treating you like a princess either. He would always do everything you said and always made sure you were content. He also never failed to thank you for choosing him and giving him a chance. He gave you a wonderful life where you knew nothing but peace, stability and love.

If you had the chance to do it all again, you would walk down the same path over and over again.

“Just a friend? Friends don’t jerk off using the panties they pulled from your hamper.” He spat at you, practically vibrating with anger as he gripped your bicep to keep you from walking away. “What the fuck are you even talking about Sanemi?” You flinched away involuntarily, his grip not budging as he stared you down. “Your precious little Tomioka, who you treat like an innocent little lap dog, gets himself off using your worn underwear.” You blinked at him, face morphing into a look of disbelief and disgust. “Maybe you should stop trying to be so different and take the fucking hint. People don’t hang around him for a fucking reason.” It took you a second to find your voice, eyes shifting over to the direction of where everyone was hanging out. “Y-you know what, here’s a better question, Sanemi. How the fuck do you know he does this?”

👋🤐

Learning to accept love with every bite.

You packed lunch for Obanai and Kaburamaru. He planned on skipping breakfast and maybe even lunch altogether, but your packed meal changed his mind.

Pairing: Obanai x gn!reader

(TW: Obanai’s troubled relationship with food, spoilers on why Obanai wears a mask)

Usually, Obanai’s mornings usually are the same; waking up being held by you, getting out of bed to feed Kaburamaru a small treat, heading of to the bathroom to freshen up, eat a small meal before wrapping the bandages over his scars and then heading out for training or a meeting. He noticed the lack of your warmth pressing against his back, wich he usually wakes up to in the mornings, and rolled over on the bed, noticing that your side of the bed was already neatly tucked in. Seems like you headed out early today without telling him. Where do you even have to go out this early? Errands can wait, why not spend some time with him? Tch. After groaning and stretched his limbs out, savouring the warmth of the bed a little longer, he finally forced himself out of the warm bed.

Obanai stepped closer to Kaburamaru’s enclose, giving his companion a couple head-scratches before slipping him pre-made snack cubes into the enclosure. The rest of the morning continued as usual, just a little more lonely. Normally, he’ll eat breakfast for your sake. You remind him to take in his meals regularly with proper portions he feels comfortable eating. Without you, Obanai’d probably fall back into his old habit— skipping meals in favour of training. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

You knew that your boyfriend has a troubled relationship with food. You didn’t know everything about his childhood or past and you never pushed him to reveal things about himself he didn’t want to share, he might need time to proper process his own troubles before sharing it with you, but on the other side you’re also totally fine if he’ll never share those things with you. You’re patient with Obanai and love him for the way he is, so why force him into opening up? Forcing him to talk about his troubles will do more damage than good, so you leave those worries be and focus on better things. That’s what he appreciates being with you so much. He almost feels insecure about you being so good with him, while he barely gives anything back in return…

He stared at his bandages for a good minute. If he wears them now, he won’t eat breakfast. It’s too much of a hassle to slip food between his bandages without staining them, so he’d rather not try. If he eats breakfast now and slips the bandages on then, Obanai will loose valuable time he could be using to train and spar with other hashira. He promised Sanemi to show up early to his manor for training sessions, so why make him pissed by being late? He knew you’d probably disapprove, but Obanai began wrapping the bandages over his jaw and mouth, deciding to skip breakfast for today. He tries to talk into himself that he’ll just eat more lunch but failed, resulting to silently curse at himself.

After letting Kaburamaru join him by making himself comfortable around his neck, he finally made his way downstairs to equip his katana and head out. That’s where he spotted a small bento box prepared on the counter, alongside a sealed paper bag with holes right next to it. His brows furrowed together in slight confusion as he inspected the bento, lifting the lid. He was met with a small letter placed right above two compartments placed inside the box. Scanning the letter, Obanai recognised your terrible handwriting.

Made this for before I headed out, Tengen called me over for an emergency of sorts. There’s some Gyoza so you can eat with your mask on by slipping it through the bandages, it should’t crumble too much, plus they are small enough. I also some vinegar soaked kelp (I know it’s your fav~) if you want to eat without it or alone, so you can choose what you want to eat! Love you lots ♡

PS: I spend most of my morning catching lunch for Kaburamaru, it’s in the bag, hope he likes it!

Obanai felt his cheeks heat up beneath his bandages as a smile started spreading. He folded the letter and tucked it back into the bento box to read again later, inspecting the meals you prepared. There were three Gyoza dumplings tucked into one compartment, the portion he usually eats, and some vinegar soaked kelp in the other, again, the amount the one he likes to eat. He slipped bandages down and grabbed some strands of seaweed with his fingers, stuffing them into his mouth. His smile grew even more as the familiar taste spread in his mouth, but for some reason it tasted even better than usual. After slipping his bandages back over his mouth and putting the lid onto his bento box, he unwrapped the top of the brown paper back and glanced inside. Kaburamaru curiously leaned down as well after noticing the smell of food— there was a poor mice trapped in the bag. You seriously caught this? For Kaburamaru? You do really pay attention to both Obanai and his little companion.

He obviously released the poor mouse since he already has enough snake-friendly food stored in the pantry. He appreciated the effort, but storing a mice in a paper bag for a whole day was a little inhumane, even for Obanai.

After packing the bento box and equipping himself with his katana, he headed off to Sanemi’s, already looking forward to eating the home cooked meal with his friend, being able to show off the lovely bento you prepared for him and only him, while Sanemi is stuck with a random thrown together meal.

🎃

Whumptober prompt: Recovery

I was seriously nervous about posting this. As I mentioned in a post before, I really am insecure about writing for Obanai XD last time I wrote for him was two months ago in my second ever post (Love Languages of the Hashira pt.2)— So I hoped you enjoyed this!! Let me know what to change or add about Obanai! Also, I know pet snakes eat mice and life small preys and stuff but I didn’t want to write about that part so I simplifies it to “snack cubes” or whatever I called them XD Hope that’s okay!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3 I appreciate every single comment, repost and like. Thank you for supporting me for so long!

Here’s my event Masterlist 🎃

writer’s block isn’t real, it’s just your characters deciding to go on strike because they’re mad about how you’ve been treating them

kinich refuses to put cake on your face in your wedding day

even before back when you still were just boyfriend, girlfriend, the evening he decided to propose; under a stellar night sky, "look a shooting star! quick, make a wish!" you quickly pointed out to the dark azure stratosphere.

"..."

"..did you wish?"

"yeah."

"well then, what was it!!"

"if i tell it now, it won't come true. isn't that what you said?"

"aww c'mon! i'm curious now!"

the tradition of putting cake onto your partner's face never appealed to him. he thought it was rude. he didn't wanna dirty the face he found the prettiest.

so the best he'd do is the smallest bit of icing on the tip of your nose, then put the rest of it in your mouth and lets you do the same.

he knew tonight was a cold night out as well, and gave you the jacket of his suit.

he knew how long it took to do your makeup, so he didn't wanna ruin it.

the cake tradition i'm taking about here usually refers to how your partner will take care of you, in sickness and in health, but when they smash it, it means they won't. so in the most respectful way possible, he didn't wanna disresepct you!

yeah he did his research, its his partner we're talking about. as much as he is blunt, he's quiet because most of the time he's busy paying attention to your likes.

did you notice how the cake was your favorite? did you notice it was your favorite flowers that he put up at every curtain? did you notice it was mixed with his and your culture when it came to traditions as well?

"you feel any better?" is all he says while watching you admire the scenery from a balcony. the venue was up in a tree, and all you wanted to do was admire what felt like a dream below you.

"can i know what you wished for on that day you proposed to me on?" you look over to your now husband.

"i wished for you to accept my proposal, and spend my life with you."

『 First Time 』

☼ synopsis: You're the serpent hashira's first.

☼ character: Obanai Iguro

☼ wc: 2.9k

☼ cw: female!reader, afab!reader, no dynamics, virginity loss, experienced reader, handjob, mutual masturbation, oral (reader giving), cum eating, fingering, creampie, slight overstimulation

☼ Kinktober masterlist

Being with Obanai was an experience itself, every time you made it over one wall around his heart, you found yourself facing another one. It's not that you minded it, you would climb and tear down thousands of walls over and over again if it means having him in your life. The first time he dared to kiss you was the first time you stayed the night at his place, the room pitch black and any source of light long erased before he took his bandages off. He felt so stupid for behaving like this but he didn't want to risk losing you, he just couldn't. His cold hands were holding yours so you wouldn't cup his cheeks when his slightly chapped lips gently locked with yours. It felt as if a ghost was kissing you, a touch barely there. “Nai… I won't break,” you whispered against his lips when you pulled away ever so slightly. The shuddered breath against your lips broke your heart, his nerves clear on display because he knew you could be able to feel the scars if he moved in any closer.

Little did he know when morning came and the smallest specks of sunlight illuminated his face you could see what he was hiding behind the bandages that were now shifted and you found yourself staring. Uneasy at the feeling of being watched he woke up, the blood in his veins freezing when he felt the morning air hit his bare skin and saw your eyes on his face. His first thought was to cuss you out, to shut you out of his life but these thoughts evaporated when your soft thumb gently caressed the long scar on his right cheek, your face coming closer to his. “You don't need to hide from me… you're beautiful, Obanai Iguro,” you whispered and the next thing he knew were that your lips were back on his. How could you say such things? Didn't you see how disfigured his face was? But his racing mind had no choice against the love you showed him, tender lips locking with his, your hands cupping his cheeks and once you pulled away you looked at him as if he put the sun and all the stars in the sky just for you. His heart skipped a beat when he realized just how much you feel for him and that you accept him the way he is.

The relationship moved slow and steady and you never once pressured him into anything he's not fully comfortable with, always asking consent before holding his hand or kissing him and most importantly, you let him initiate new things so he wouldn't get uncomfortable. The first time his tongue danced across your lips took you by surprise, but you gladly let him enter, swirling your tongue around his as the kiss grew more intimate and his grip on you became more desperate. He wanted to be closer, bodies next to each other and touching wasn't enough. Every pore of his body was screaming for you, yearning for your love and gentle touch but he pulled away - not allowing himself to have you, not yet at least. Your body felt like it was on fire, yet you didn't stop him from retreating since you knew that giving his body to you entirely takes so much of him and he's simply not ready for it yet.

When he allowed you to touch him for the first time it was once again pitch black, the darkness giving him some security because you wouldn't be able to see him completely. Your hand slowly traveled down his lean body until you reached the hem of his pants, the bulge you grinded against while making out moments before so prominent beneath the fabric. Despite his well controlled breathing he struggled to do so this moment and you hesitated to reach into his pants - did you change your mind? Did you realize he's not good enough for you? His mind was racing once again and you leaned your head onto his shoulder

“Nai…Breathe,” you reminded him, feeling that he was holding his breath for a while now and only when he exhaled shakingly, you caressed his abs again.

“We don't have to-” you began but he bucked his hips towards your hand. “I need you to,” he whispered, fearing that any other volume would tear this moment apart and he hated to admit how his body was screaming for your touch.

You nodded silently and breathed in his scent before kissing his neck gently, your hand slowly disappearing into his pants and a little strangled “ngh” escaped his lips when he felt your hand stroke over his hard length for the first time. Unsure what he even imagined it to feel like, it exceeded his imagination, the feeling his own hand gave him couldn't be compared to yours. Smiling against his skin you smeared his pre cum over his tip before pumping his shaft with a little pressure at a slow pace. Obanai’s slender hands clutched onto the sheets at the feeling, jaw tensing up as he tried to hold any noises back but you could hear him pant hard - cock twitching after mere seconds of your touch and you retreated your hand.

“Nai… could you take them off?” You whispered into his ear, not wanting to stain his pants from making him release within their confides but he shook his head “it's enough,” he mumbled back, not wanting to get you dirty with his cum, you deserved better.

You wanted to protest, to give him the sweet release he craved and also earned but you respected his boundaries and simply cuddled up to him, the wetness between your legs not important. Patience was the key and when he's ready to bring you pleasure he would let you know, until then you would just touch yourself silently in the bathroom so he won't notice and feel bad about it - he knew though but he never brought it up, unsure how or if he could pleasure you properly.

Giving him handjobs became more and more frequent and sometimes he finished it himself, not allowing you to please him to completion just yet. One day you had a small idea and gave him a little smile instead of letting your hand wander down his body like so many times before

“Can you touch yourself for me? This time without anything on?” You asked curious, wanting to see his reaction and he surprisingly nodded, slowly undressing you but he couldn't hold your gaze when he opened his pants so you reached for his hands, gently kissing them.

“Wait. Let me just-” you hummed and turned to stand behind him, back to back as you took your top off as well, skin touching skin now and you could feel the goosebumps erupt on his skin from feeling you this close.

“We can stay like this and just touch ourselves, yes?” You suggested, always making sure he was okay and the next thing you felt was how he lifted his hips ever so slightly to take his pants off, now sitting bare behind you which made you follow suit.

Obanai was the first to initiate it, his slender hand wrapping around his pale cock and slowly stroking it up and down just like you always did for him. The previous make out session left you drenched, almost grinding yourself to completion on his bulge but you didn't want to tease yourself further, eager fingers dipping to your core to gather some slick before rubbing your fingers over your clit. The sweetest noises escaped your mouth when you could feel your lover leaning against you for support, the slick noises of your fingers curling inside your velvet walls almost driving him insane with lust until the knot in his abdomen snapped, releasing over his hand with a strangled moan, letting you follow suit as you came around your own fingers, your other hand rubbing your clit in fast circles as you moaned his name. Hearing his name moaned like this let the blood freeze within his veins, but it would be his new favorite noise of yours, letting him hear just how desperate you are for him as well.

“Can I turn around?” You asked softly, voice barely above a whisper as he gave you a noise of approval in return, feeling your arms wrap around his upper body only a second later and you slowly reached for his right hand, kissing his shoulder.

“You're so beautiful Obanai… so perfect,” you hummed into his ear as you brought the cum covered hand closer but he locked up, not letting it close to you.

“Let me taste you… I promise it won't harm me,” you reassured him and he gave in, not wanting to deny you anything but his head fell back against your shoulder when you took two of his fingers into your mouth, your tongue working over them as if it would be his cock. Once they were all clean you pulled away with a lewd pop, hiding your face in his neck right after when you saw the blush on his cheeks, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Maybe next time he would allow you to fulfill that fantasy of his.

These little moments went on until he was comfortable enough to face you while you gave him a handjob, eventually allowing you to wrap your soft lips around him and he swore that if a heaven existed, he made it there in these moments. His hips were bucking aimlessly as you bobbed your head up and down his length at a fast pace, one of his hands clutched over his mouth to keep the noises at bay while the other held onto the sheets for dear life. The twitching of his cock let you know that he was close and every time you could feel the anxiety rise up so you looked up into his eyes as you soothingly ran your hands over his thighs, nose nudged against his pubic bone and it did the trick for him. Seeing you so cockdrunk from giving him pleasure let the butterflies in his stomach go wild and he released down your throat as the softest groans escaped his lips. He didn't mean to buck his hips further in your face but it felt so good when you swallowed around him, he just couldn't get enough when his mind started to wonder how tight and warm your cunt would feel around him. A twitch of his cock made you pull away, your saliva slowly running down from his tip to the base.

“Do you want me to go on?” You asked slightly surprised since he wasn't so eager for more after he came, far too sensitive and growing reserved again which you respected. He nodded in response, trembling hands pulling you onto his lap by your hips, staying there to hold you tight and you got what he wanted, smiling down at him.

“You sure about that?” You asked just to confirm your suspicions and earned another nod, followed by a soft but firm “yes”

Gently you took one of his hands and guided it towards your mound and let go again. Obanai stared up at your eyes, looking a little lost and unsure how to proceed and if it would be any other time it would have made you giggle but you didn't want to ruin his newfound confidence in physical intimacy.

“You saw how I touched myself… Can you do it for me? It will make it more pleasurable to take you after,” you explained, parting your legs a little further to make it easier for him to reach your dripping wet cunt.

He gulped but nodded, the image of how you rubbed your clit before two of your beautiful fingers dipped into your core was burned into his mind and he recreated your movements as if it's second nature. The way he massaged your clit in circular motions made you gasp, grinding your hips against his hand to get more friction but he got the hint, giving you exactly what you needed. Obanai might be inexperienced but he observed your reactions to everything, taking mental notes on what made you moan louder as he slowly pushed two slender fingers into your heat, moaning in sync with you.

Your velvet walls were so tight around his fingers already, making him wonder how he would fit inside of you. A spongy spot within your core took his attention when the pads of his fingers pushed against it, letting your moans raise in pitch and taking him off guard out of fear he hurt you but the way you clenched around his fingers let him know otherwise.

“God you're so good at this… I'm so close,” you mumbled mindlessly between moans and it fueled Obanai's need to get you to come undone from just his fingers as he repeatedly curled his fingers against your sweet spot. The moment he brought his thumb down to play with your clit, it was over for you, your walls spasming around his skilled fingers and his name falling off your lips like a prayer. He almost came untouched by the angelic sounds you made, making him love his name as he watched your orgasm take over your body only to slide his fingers out of your tight cunt when you’d calmed down.

With a curious expression he brought his hand closer to his face, your slick almost dripping from his fingers as he pushed them past his own lips to taste you, just like you tasted his seed. His pupils blew wide and he groaned when your arousal melted against his tongue like silk, never having tasted anything so divine and he knew that he wanted more, growing hungry for your sweet release but you snapped him out of these thoughts, seemingly reading his mind.

“Another time, Nai… do you want to-?” You asked quietly, hoping he didn't change his mind because you needed to feel him inside of you. Once more he nodded, confirming that he wanted more as you positioned yourself above his achingly hard cock before holding his shaft to line him up. He took a deep breath when his tip touched your folds for the first time and despite wanting to hold back on his noises, a desperate “ngh” escaped his scarred mouth when you lowered yourself onto his dick. You placed his hands on your hips so he could take control, unsure how slow you needed to be but he pushed you down in just one thrust, fearing he would die if he couldn't be inside of you entirely. The harshness of this thrust knocked the air out of your lungs and you fell forward into his arms.

“Hmm just like that," you encouraged him when he began to thrust erratically, the slight curve of his cock letting him hit just the right spots inside of you and the strength his thrusts held pushed you to the edge once again.

Obanai had to flip you over, needing to rut into you as if it's the last thing he would do. Desperate for your moans, struck by the love you held for him, he came unexpectedly, the tight heat of your velvet walls far too much for his virgin cock to handle. His eyes were screwed shut as breathless moans fell from his mouth, making him look ethereal above you, the dim light illuminating him just right.

It didn't matter to you that he came early, not having expected for him to last long during his first time but it clearly bothered Obanai who brought his hand between your bodies that were glistening with sweat so he could rub your clit once more. “I need to feel you around me,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck, overstimulating himself by staying inside of your pussy but it was all worth it when the knot in your abdomen snapped a second time, your back arching so beautifully against him as your cunt fluttered around him, milking him of everything he had to give. Your orgasm was enough to trigger another one of his, only able to pant and whimper into your neck as he fell apart, eventually just resting his weight on top of you.

Gently your arms slithered around his slim frame, enjoying to have him this close for once before it got too much for him, having to excuse himself from your embrace, still needing to get used to being held for an extended period of time but you didn't mind, simply kissing his shoulder before getting up, his seed slowly running down your thighs in the process and the view sent a shiver down his spine at the thought of having released inside of you. He didn't mean to taint you with his cum but he knew that you would have wanted it that way so he gave it to you.

“Are you coming? I drew a bath,” you called out from the bathroom, hoping you could soak your sore body in the hot water with your lover together. He sure was inexperienced but his will to be enough for you sure made up for it.

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