“Just A Friend? Friends Don’t Jerk Off Using The Panties They Pulled From Your Hamper.” He Spat

"How many likes do you think this will get you?"

Scaramouche x Reader

 ♡ SMUT

 ♡ NOT PROOFREAD

ASHRODISIAC'S NOTE:

I have 3 quizzes tomorrow😭😭😭

--

But... theres always time for smut, right?

--

You post a photo of Scaramouche without a shirt and get the idea of slowly stripping him from a piece of his clothing each post, the amount of likes needed for the next tl be removed gradually increasing.

But... I guess he got a bit tired of it.

"A thousand likes?"

Scaramouche stared at your screen with a look of disgust, his brows furrowed as he watched comments burst in. "A thousand likes." You said, confirming what he was seeing, and continued: "On a photo of you without a shirt."

(anonymous): BARK BARK BARK

(cvm.slvt): PANTS NEXT 🙏

An idea bubbled up, and you turned with a devious but somehow innocent smile.

"Hey..." you said. He looked at you with a bored expression, seemingly unknowing to your plan. "What."

--

Scaramouche quickly put his clothes back on, all the while staring at the ground and muttering inconherent cuss words.

"Ten thousand likes, and his underwear's next... "

You wrote in your caption, below the photo you snapped... of Scaramouche.

Then, after thinking for a bit, you replaced the "ten thousand" with "twenty thousand", then changed it back. "How many likes do you think this is worth?" You asked. Scaramouche huffed, "don't know, don't give a shit. And I won't be doing this again, got it?"

You smirked, then replaced the "ten thousand" with "fifty thousand".

"Alright, then."

--

"Oh, shit..."

(hornyassshit): (reader's user) WHERE THE FUCK IS IT

You looked at the bustling amount of likes coming in every second, and how it was going well over what the desired amount was.

(Thelittlebitch): WE NEED MORE

"A hundred... fucking... thousand..."

(uwuuwuii): WHERE IS THE NEXT PART

"shit, shit, shit! What am I gonna do!?"

You muted the notifications, then sighed, clutching your phone. Then, switching your app to Discord, you rang a call to Scaramouche...

He answered the call before the ringing even started.

"The fuck you want now?" He was laying on his couch, his raven hair spread over his pillow.

"So... remember the last photo we took?"

He stared at the camera with irritation. "Don't tell me."

You smiled nervously, and was surprised by his sudden reply:

"Fine. Come over."

--

"How many likes do you think this will get you?

All you wanted was a photo from him, now you were in this position...

His palm against your spine, your back arching at an impossible angle, you barely heard what he had said at the absurd noise of skin slapping and your whines. "Looks like the viewers like it, and so do you, bitch." He chuckled, bringing the phone on the sheets closer to you, resting it on a pillow so you could see your own fucked out face in the camera. He had started streaming on your account.

"How many likes would it get you if I managed to get you pregnant?" He said in a mocking tone, his fingers trailing up your nape. You bit the fabric of his pillow, which smelled like his cologne, tears forming in your eyes. "Fucking slut for likers, are you?"

Notifications screamed from your phone, but the only thought settling in your empty mind was how good Scaramouche was fucking you, how good it felt...

"Cumming!" You yelped, the pillow you were burying your head in now soaked with tears and saliva.

"Fuck, so am I... Should I cum in or out?" Scaramouche asked, pressing his lips against your neck, panting slightly. Before you could answer, the comments did it for you...

(anonymous): IN

...fuck you, anonymous.

"In, it is, then."

Throwing your head back with a sob, your hips buckling, you felt him release. Your moans faltered as he pulled out, and you were left breathless. He kissed your sweaty forehead, and a notification rang on your phone.

(Thelittlebitch): round two plz

"oh, looks like your viewers really want a round two."

That user really was a little bitch, huh?

nsfw gamer!perv!mean!neighbor!scara x fem reader. fingering, oral(m recieving), scara is obsessed w readers lips and eyes(you'll see), unprotected sex, idk what else but have fun kekw I'm literally writing part two of this cus I have an ideaaaaa

your back is pressed hard against the wall. the yelling from the front the side of the weak drywall is from your neighbor, scaramouche. it was normal, from what you’ve heard, he’s always playing games. and he rages. hard. the way he yells out comms to his teammates and curses them right after for fucking up is a common occurrence on your apartment floor.

to be honest, you hadn’t even seen him for the longest time. just the way his mocking, sexy tone spits at an opponent when he takes them down. you would bang on the wall a little, and he would quiet down for just a little while before yelling out again.

that was until about a month ago. it was late. you were slightly buzzed, but not enough to take you out of your senses when you crossed paths with the purple-haired man. you're fumbling with your keys, dropping them as he passes you by with a snort. you retort, telling him to stop laughing! nothing was funny, you were really struggling here! he raises his arms in mock innocence. he never said it was! stop assuming things you don’t know.

you pout. it's cute, he thinks. so when you do manage to pick your keys up after much struggle, he hums to catch your attention. he motions for you to follow him, and you do. you don't even know why, but who wouldn't follow such a pretty man if they were in your shoes?

"just sit here. maybe when your eyes and brain start working together again, you'll be able to get back into your own home."

the noise you make in retaliation has jolts of electricity traveling to his ears. it was light, high pitched. almost a whimper. he shakes his head and makes his way towards the kitchen. when he returns with a glass of water, you're passed out. scaramouche rolls his eyes and hooks his arm underneath your legs so he can lay you down. he's watching you closely, the rise and fall of your chest, the soft breaths escaping from your parted lips. those lips...but he decides to hold off on what the devil on his shoulder is telling him to do.

when he wakes up, there's a thank you note on the spot you were asleep in the night before. the cup he placed for you is empty. he picks the glass up, pressing his lips onto the mark your lipstick left on it.

after that, you became a literal thorn in his side. you always seemed to catch him whenever he was coming back from whatever he was doing. you're texting him to shut up while he's on the game, or sitting in his living room with him while he watches the stupid show you put on, just like this time.

but someone calls you. unknown number? ah! it was probably for the delivery you had. so you excuse yourself and step out of his home. five minutes pass. then ten. it's weird. not that he cares, but shouldn't you be back by now! so he goes to look. your door is cracked open just the slightest bit, so he lets himself in. it's not new, he's always showing up unannounced anyway. he's padding his way to your room and he sees you with a.. pc?

yeah! your pc! you explain to him that you've been waiting for it to come so you can start building it.

"you want to build a pc?"

he doesn't actually mean to laugh. but it's almost absurd. even he almost broke his in a fit of rage while trying to get it working. what makes you think you can do it all in one sitting? but you rebound quick. telling him to fuck off so you can get to work. he picks a nice spot on your bed, facing the desk and floorspace you choose to work with while he lays back. when you glance up, the way he's looking down at you has you writhing. like a predator studying its prey before it pounces.

maybe he was right. this wasn't easy at all! why would you even subject yourself to this? he's stifling another laugh when you groan out in frustration once again. you're practically whining his name out as you're asking for help and he chooses to ignore the twitch in his pants as he drags himself towards you. rather than joining you, he's placing himself on the desk chair and bringing what you've done up to the desk. he looks around a bit, going between the manual and the semi-built contraption before asking you to hand something over. even though you didn't get as far as you wanted, he hates that he has to admit you did a hell of a good starting job.

"you're not gonna take it apart?"

he shakes his head as he looks down to answer you. or, he was going to. but the way you're perched up on your knees, big eyes staring up at him has his voice catch in his throat. he turns back to continue working, but a thought crosses his mind.

"pass me that screwdriver over there."

it's far, so you place your hand against the cold floor and stretch over. he almost moans at the unadulterated view of your ass, tiny shorts riding up as you reach out. you hand it to him and he can't even remember what he needed it for! but he shoves it in anyway so he doesn't look like a complete idiot.

after what feels like forever, the monitor runs without an issue! the breath of relief followed by a long drawn-out thank you is all that he hears. you're still on the floor, so you lean your head against the side of your chair. but the way he purrs your name out has you craning your head up to meet his gaze.

he's looking at you with that look again, and you can't find the strength to push any words out. his lips curl up before he speaks.

"now now, you can't let me go without giving me a proper thank you, hm?"

those pretty lips of yours are wrapped tight around his cock. the grip he has on your hair is so tight, almost bruising as you drag yourself up and down his length. he doesn't hide the way he groans, eyes trained on you as yours are squeezed shut, trying so hard to take all of him.

"fuck, always knew-ah. always knew this mouth would feel so fuckin' good."

his words are practically yanking the arousal out of you as you whimper against him. he hisses at the vibration, shoving himself deeper into your throat as you tighten the grip you have on his thigh.

"look at me.."

and you're just so fucking gorgeous. your cheeks are red, lips swollen around him. your tear-filled eyes threatening to spill as he fucks into your mouth now. his eyes never leave yours. they cant. it's that cute face of yours that sends him over the edge, hips still bucking up as he tries to ride the high out for as long as possible. when he finally frees your mouth, your labored breaths bring his attention right back to you. you were the one supposed to be "thanking" him, but he couldn't leave such a pretty thing like this.

which is why you're laid up between his legs, cunt getting abused by his slender fingers while his other hand tugs at your nipples. his palm is pressed flat against your swollen clit as he pumps those two fingers in and out at a delicious pace. he's curling his fingers at all the right spots, the heel of his palm pushing down at just the right moment that has your body spasming under him. tsk. he didn't even get to fuck with you a little before you came. but it's good to know how sensitive you are to him.

he shifts out from behind you so you can lie fully down. in a second he's on top, lips harshly catching yours in a rough kiss. the way his tip pokes at your entrance has you gasping into his mouth. he quickly slides his tongue into your mouth before pushing into you.

the way he fingered you is nothing compared to the stretch of his cock. he's much thicker than you anticipated, and when he finally bottoms out, the warmth of his breath and the closeness of his body have your eyes falling shut. you can feel everything. every vein, every twitch. the way his breath hitches when you unconsciously squeeze down on him. but that won't do. not at all. his hand finds your jaw in a strong grip.

"look at me when i fuck you."

so you open your eyes. his eyes are hooded, gaze heavy as he pulls out of you slowly. but the force of the thrust has you arching off the bed. he keeps it like that, hitting you fast and hard so that the only thing you can cry out is a mess of begging him not to stop. his free hand finds your hip to raise you up slightly and that change of angles has you seeing stars. your fingers are bunching the sheets as his name falls from your lips over and over as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

your breath becomes more jagged, your hand moving to grip the wrist that was still holding your face. you're whining about how close you are. his grip tightens and raises your head up slightly to give you one instruction. cum.

and you do. it's heavy on your body, broken sobs and moans leaving you as your eyes roll back. the warmth around his cock mixed with that expression is sending him spiraling too, releasing straight into you. the last thing you remember is his lips on the side of your face before you drift off into a much-needed slumber.

part 2 here!

❤️

KISSES- breathless, kisses.

...you make him feel many things, but being breathless is one he makes you feel...he makes you feel breathless something you can't make him feel...

Slight power bottom wanderer? Credits [mint.tan] insta

...wanderer...

He doesn't know what gotten into you, you say that you miss him, you're just tired. But you'll eat him whole at this rate!

Encircling your arms from behind around your darlings waist, shoving your face in the crevice of his neck. "What the fu-" he tries pushing you away, at the start that is. He always does, acting annoyed as if he isn't enjoying himself.

"Ah- mhm..I told you don't do that..." Soft noises as you kiss the electro symbol on his nape. His groans of annoyance turning into breathy giggles. he tries to hide them so hard.

Soft giggles as you kiss the sides of his face, biting softly at the flesh of his cheek.

Turning around in your arms as his encircle you, "I want one here too." In a whisper is how he voices his desires, his lips are cold, so very cold. He's a lifeless puppet after all. He's cold, and- he doesn't need to breathe.

You- on the other hand...

You love making your darling cry out for you, whine, and be just so shaky to the touch for you. But, to your dismay, you can't make your darling breathless. That's the one thing he beats you at every time.

You might press him back against the counter, but as he pushes against your lips you can't help but be pushed back yourself.

It's like he's restless, the yearning for touch and want is being completed after a painful 500 years, he doesn't want to part, he wants to do this for yet another eternity.

Trying to pull away, he seeks you out immediately again, grabbing at your collar as if he would let go, so would you slip from his fingers,

"mhm-, ah!" Grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking it back, panting breathlessly "my darl' you-..might not need to breath- but I do- hah." Soft giggles erupt from his throat, Ah- he loves seeing you breathless. Just for him.

nsfw kinich x fem reader. i love him, i miss him, choking, repaying favors iykyk

i’m so sorry but you know the part at the end of the last scions of the copy tribal quest where kinich says:

'promise me, if you need anything in the future you’ll come to me.’

so on a particularly tough night where your fingers aren’t doing enough, and humping your folded pillows insnt helping, you find yourself stumbling towards his home in the dead of the night. he swings the door open when he realizes it’s you, questioning why you’re here at such a weird hour.

“you said if i need anything i could come to you..”

“yeah, i did. what do you need?”

kinich is very precise with his work. it's something he's well known for, but you weren't too familiar with. but now, with his fingers expertly plunging in and out of your cunt as you struggle to keep your legs up, you understand what everyone means now. his face is inches from yours, breath fanning over your face as he studies your pleasured expression. your back is arching off the smooth wood of the door that he had you pressed against mere moments ago after you smashed your lips against his in the doorway.

his tongue is hot against your neck. you're desperately gripping at the wrist that's assaulting your sopping hole, weakly attempting to push it away from the sheer pleasure that's blooming throughout your lower half. you're whining, cries of his name dripping out of your lips as your thighs start to clamp down around your hand. and he's trying to ignore the throbbing in his pants because you came to him for help this time. you'd done a great deal for him, and it would be unfair to take something from you again so soon. but those eyes of yours, they're pleading, begging for him to just fill you up, as much as that perfect body of yours could take.

and he was right to trust his instincts because your cunt is sucking him in so well. his fingers are tight against your throat, pressing down as his free hand moves to wrap around your waist. he has perfect leverage like this, pulling your back against his chest as he fucks into you sharp and hard. your hands are gripping at nothing, the feeling of his cock combined with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain sending you into a sweet spiral. you can't even feel the words leave your mouth, soft whines and pleas surging into his ears as you mindlessly beg.

"i-inside, kinich. please, please-"

it's the least he could do, after everything you've done for him. he's also trying to convince himself that he's doing this for you, not because he's been thinking about pumping you full of his cum. sure, he'd finish his commissions early so he could drag mualani to come and hang out with the two of you, or purposefully rile up ajaw so he'd have a reason to put him in time out, giving him enough privacy to pump his length to the thought of you. but no, this was entirely about what he was willing to give back to you. so he'd free up your neck, letting your body softly drop to the bed, before securing your hips with both of his hands before ruining you. you're fisting the sheets, squealing hard as the sound of his skin slapping against yours fills the room, his thrusts are messy and uncalculated, warmth painting your walls as his orgasm waves through the two of you. he's still smacking into you with such fervor, that you can't hold back your own climax, releasing around his still-hard length with a yell.

and he's obsessed with the white ring that's starting to form around the base of his cock from your orgasm. your pretty hole is still fluttering around him as he continues to move. he stills for just a second, then mutters an apology. he knows he's supposed to be assisting you here, but he just can’t help himself. he's going to have to take one more orgasm from you tonight, but he’ll make sure to give you one right back.

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.)

Touching kny men's frogs by accident

Pairings: Sanemi x fem!reader; Giyu x fem!reader; Rengoku x fem!reader; bonus: Tengen x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,7k

Warnings: Not smut but it's getting heated y'all, heavy inspiration from apothecary diaries hehehehe, enjoy babes

I didn't feel like writing for quite some time and would totally appreciate you showing some love and support 🤍

Sanemi Shinazugawa

“I can’t fucking stand you”, you hiss through gritted teeth, body feeling like exploding any given minute.

Out of all the people around you, why does it always have to be him you’re assigned with? Why not Giyu, why not Rengoku? No, it’s always the asshole himself, the devil in person.

“Join the club. I can’t stand you either, but at least I’m having fun with it”, he jeers back, the veins on his forehead almost popping.

If there’s one thing he hates more than anything else on this planet, it has to be you. Sanemi’s eyes glare you up and down as you walk in front of him, feet stomping onto the ground demonstratively while you make your way to the mansion you were assigned to.

No, that’s not true. If there’s one thing he hates more than anything else on this planet, it has to be that you hate him.

“Let’s just get this shitty mission over with”, you mumble under your breath.

Fuck, you’re almost able to feel his gaze burning through your back while it takes all your focus not to trip like an idiot. You hate to admit it, hate to even think about it, but somehow…

Why does the way he holds his sword have to be so damn attractive? Why does his voice force your heart to skip a beat, your knees to feel oh so weak? Why does it have to be him, the guy who hates you more than anyone else? You’re nothing but a fool for falling for him so hard. God, you really need to pull yourself together. Maybe telling yourself over and over that you hate him as well will finally force some sense back into your brain.

Will it? Or maybe, just maybe telling him about those things might help. Maybe you need to get this off your chest, maybe you need to feel him rejecting you to finally move on. You clench your hands into tight fists, heartbeat picking up in an instant. Yes, you just have to do this. There’s no way you’ll be able to act like that forever. And after that, after he rejected you like the asshole he is, you’ll definitely be able to hate him like you’re supposed to.

“Sanemi, I really have to-“

But just when your courage took over, you aren’t able to complete your sentence. A pair of razor-sharp teeth shoots just barely past your throat. An animal? A demon? You didn’t even realize that the sun is already fully set, didn’t even hear this lower-ranked demon coming. A dangerous mistake that right now, might cost your life.

“Watch out!”, Sanemi cries out behind you.

Images start to blur and overlap, you feel your body falling towards the cold hard ground. Are you dead, injured? Time seems to stand still, the only thing you’re able to do is pressing your eyes shut.

Until you land.

Softly.

“(y/n)…”

You clench your hands even harder, body not able to comprehend what just happened. You were on your way to the ground, without any doubt. How is it possible that you landed so softly? Did the demon eat you, eventually?

“Can you just…stop?”

“Sanemi?”

Immediately, your eyes dart towards the sound of his whiny voice.

Underneath you.

Sanemi Shinazugawa is lying under your very own body, trapped between your legs, kept in place by your hand.

Your hand…What is that soft feeling? A frog, maybe? You squeeze a little tighter. To be honest, you never really touched a frog-

“(y/n)!”, Sanemi cries your name in a way he’s never done before, his cheeks so bright red that it leaves worry lines all over your face.

“Did you catch a fever? No wonder considering that cold wind you’ve made earlier while training. I told you over and over that-“

“Your hand”, Sanemi presses out.

“Remove your fucking hand.”

Your hand? You shake your head in sheer confusion. What on earth does this have to do with your hand?

While one of your palms rests flat against the cool ground, the other still holds onto that squishy but somehow comforting thing. Your eyes wander down your own arm, searching for what might be a frog.

You swallow hard, hand snapping away in an instant.

God, you want to die. Right here on the spot. Without any last words.

Is this really, did you really touch him…there?

“It wasn’t a frog”, you mutter in sheer horror while lifting yourself off the boy underneath you.

“A frog!?”

“I…I thought this was a frog! Why didn’t you tell me earlier that I…that I touched you there!?”, you cry out in nothing but horror.

“Why the hell did you think it was a frog, idiot? I definitely don’t feel like a frog”, Sanemi gives back while grabbing your arm.

“And stop wiping your fucking hand like you just touched something dirty!”

“I…I need to go now”, you announce in a haste.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You really touched Sanemi down there. Sanemi Shinazugawa, the boy you always hated. No, the boy you secretly love.

And that’s definitely worse.

“Stay right where you are, (y/n)…We…We still have this stupid mission going and I don’t wanna get scolded by Shinobu for scaring you away”, the white-haired man mumbles, the pressure he puts on your wrist now becoming more gentle.

“Right.”

Get yourself together. Acting like a dumb teenager doesn’t help the situation either. As if nothing happened, you straighten your shoulders and start walking towards the estate again.

An uneasy silence begins settling between both of you, Sanemi just strolling by your side without even looking your way. Fuck, this is so awkward and strange. What are you supposed to do? Not saying a word until the mission is over, talking about the weather?

“Thank you for saving me from that demon earlier”, you blurt out without thinking twice.

“I’m still not over the fact that you called me a frog…”, he mumbles while shaking his head.

“What else was I supposed to say? I really thought it was a frog!”, you try to defend yourself.

In the split of a second, you find yourself pinned against a nearby tree.

“A frog, huh? No problem, I’m gonna show you it’s anything but a frog”, he hisses though gritted teeth.

„S-show me what?“

Giyu Tomioka

„You need to listen to your surroundings. The only thing you’re fighting with are your eyes”, Giyu explains briefly while putting a blindfold over your eyes.

Word of protest get stuck in your throat. No, it took you way too long to convince the water hashira to train you. To be exact, a couple of letters from Sakonji and you begging on your knees. You’ll definitely won’t risk him turning his back on you again over something as stupid as a blindfold.

“You need to focus on your other senses as well.”

Like the sound of his calm voice that makes your heart skip a beat? Or the faint smell of grapes that sticks to his clothes and tingles your nose?

“I said focus”, he warns you.

You blink into the darkness and straighten your shoulders. He’s right. You’re here to get trained by the water hashira and not to pine after him. You have to prove yourself. You have to show him you’re worthy of his time.

“Go.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. With a swift motion you dart forwards, follow the sound of his steps. You furrow your eyebrows while desperately trying to focus on the ever so slightly crush of branches underneath his feet, your bare skin eager to feel the tiniest brush of wind.

But before you’re even able to detect him, you feel his hand roughly slapping the back of your head.

“You’re not trying good enough”, he comments calmly.

That’s it, the moment you’ve been waiting for. You turn around as fast as possible, your arm on its way to hit him.

Now you have Giyu, now you’re finally able to strike back.

Your hands hold onto something when he forces you around swiftly.

And then you hit the ground.

“What the hell was that?”, you bark while yanking away that stupid blindfold.

But when your eyes meet his, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Giyu? Are you…alright?”

His cheeks are bright red, a thin coat of sweat covering his forehead while he stares at you with widened eyes. What is going on? Is there something behind both of you?

“(y/n)…”

He breathes out your name like a prayer, a minor whimper escapes his oh so beautiful lips.

“Hey, your worrying me. What’s going on?”, you question, eyes scanning him up and down.

Until your gaze wanders to your very own hand.

That rest just where his private parts are.

“Oh!”

Immediately, you stumble backwards while wiping your hand against your uniform like the idiot you are. How the hell did you not realize that you were touching him there?

“I-I…I’m so s-sorry! It wasn’t on purpose!”, you cry out immediately.

You’re screwed. What if Giyu thinks you’re a disgusting freak, a pervert? You never touched a man like that in your entire life, never knew what it would feel like. But…you never imagined it to feel this big. No wonder though, Giyu definitely seems like the kind of guy who keeps his secrets to himself.

“(y/n), can you…stop staring at me like that?”, he mumbles.

Your dirty eyes widen when you start to notice that you were still staring at his pants.

“I’m so sorry!”

“I think I need to go for a few minutes”, he announces awkwardly while getting up.

“What? Please don’t leave, I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself! I will be more careful, I will make sure something like this n-“

“(y/n), please just stop talking. I need to calm down. Now excuse me.”

“But Giyu, please don’t leave me hanging! I don’t want us to stop training, there’s still so much you need to teach me-“

“I need a couple of minutes to…take care of something.”

“To take care of something?”, you repeat visibly confused.

What on earth does he have to take care of now? His very own hand wanders to his pants, adjusting what looks like a visible bump.

A bump.

You swallow hard.

“Oh.”

Instinctively, you turn around, your cheeks now bright red.

“O-okay. Got it. Sorry”, you mutter.

Kyojuro Rengoku

“(y/n), stay by my side!”, Kyojuro instructs you while dashing down the dark forest.

Your heart pumps rapidly, mouth already tasting like iron. To be honest, you are exhausted. Exhausted of running, exhausted of fighting, exhausted of this cruel night. What time is it? When will the sun finally rise again? The only thing that keeps you going is him. The man who runs in front of you and shields you from demon attacks as often as possible.

Him, Kyojuro Rengoku.

“I can’t do this anymore”, you mutter when your sight already starts to get foggy.

Kyojuro turns around, eyes springing back and forth between you and the army of demon who dash behind both of you.

What now? He can’t watch out for you while killing off all those demons. No, he’s forced to wait until help arrives. Otherwise, you might get hurt. Or even worse…

He shakes his head ever so slightly, eyes focusing on what’s in front of him. Kyojuro was never the type to hide like a coward, but right now, this might be your only chance.

“Follow me.”

Gently, he grabs your hand and drags you behind him, dashing towards what looks like a small cottage at neck-breaking speed.

“Kyojuro, what are you doing?”, you question in sheer confusion.

He managed to leave all those demons behind, now running straight towards the cottage in front of them. What is his plan?

“We will hide until help arrives”, he explains briefly.

With a swift motion, he opens and closes the door behind your trembling figure, eyes darting around the room without a real aim.

Until they land on a closet.

“Hiding? But-“

“I’m sure Uzui will arrive within the next few minutes. But with you injured like this and countless demons chasing after us, I’m not able to defeat them by myself while still making sure you’re fine”, he explains briefly while gently shoving you into the closet.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when he pushes himself inside next to you and closes the door, so close that you’re able to feel his breath tickling against your cheek.

“Thank you for thinking about me”, you breathe into the suddenly so private space.

“I always will, (y/n).”

A warm feeling spreads in your stomach as well as your now pounding heart. It’s hard not to fall for a perfect man like him. Him who engulfs you with the sheer heat of his body. Him, who has never been this close to you before. Him, the man you love since the first time you saw him.

Your feelings threaten to overpower you just like your dizziness. In the search for hold, you adjust your body in the tiny space, hands searching for support.

A minor whine fills the otherwise quiet place, coming straight from Kyojuro’s lips.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself as well?”, you question, now pulled out of your trance.

You didn’t even have the time to think about Kyojuro with all those demons chasing after you. What if he got injured? How careless of you to not check on him sooner.

“No, it’s just…You’re squeezing my pelvic area”, he presses out.

“W-what?”, you shriek, instantly removing your hand.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought I was holding onto a knob!”, you try to explain in an instant.

“(y/n), you are killing me”, he suddenly mutters with unusual low voice.

“I do…what?”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself trapped between his strong arms, the heat radiating from his body threatening to burn you alive while your glossy eyes stare at him through the darkness.

“I had my eyes on you for quite some time now. If I’m being honest, I developed feeling for you a long time ago.”

Feelings? Kyojuro Rengoku developed feelings? For you? You have to be dreaming, hallucinating due to blood loss. But the pressure of his hands against your back is real just like his breath that caresses your face gently.

“Kyojuro, I-“

You aren’t able to finish your sentence. The split of a second is all it takes for the doors of the closet to swing open.

“Now, look what we have here. Two lovebirds cramped into a tiny space with (y/n)’s hand…Oh, I might have interrupted something here”, Tengen jeers at both of you with a dirty smile plastered onto his face.

“Get away from here right now!”, you cry out along with slapping his shoulder roughly.

“Embarrassed because I caught you?”

“You didn’t catch us! This was…an accident.”

“And accident?”

“An accident”, Koyjuo confirms.

“You can’t fool me, lovebirds. But for now, let’s focus on those demons”, Tengen comments dryly while drawing his swords.

Bonus: Uzui Tengen

“You need to help me”, your beloved husband presses out through gritted teeth, his face twisted in pain.

“Yeah, sure I’ll do anything!”

You have to blink a few times against the wave of panic that threatens to take you over, Uzui’s blood sticking to your hands uncomfortably. You need to get yourself together, need to focus on helping your husband after this rough mission.

“Press your hand against my leg and stop the bleeding”, he chokes, his head now resting against the rough ground.

“Okay, I can totally do that!”, you mutter.

There’s no time to waste. As fast as possible, you press your trembling palm against the warmth of his body, your eyes scanning his face for any reaction when a sudden whimper escapes his lips.

“(y/n)…I always love when you touch me there, but right now, I need you to press your hand against my leg.”

“Oh!”

Immediately, you remove your hand from his groin and press it onto the gaping wound on his leg.

“I guess that was habit.”

"Well, now I'm horny and injured...", Tengen mumbles under his breath.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like what I came up with <3

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Sleepy…

How the hashira act when they’re tired?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x fem!reader

(Reader has stretch marks on her thighs in Gyomei’s part)

Sanemi Shinazugawa

In the mornings…

Sanemi wakes up being grumpy and drained rather than rested from a good night’s sleep. His hair is messy and some stubble formed on his face over the night. Also, he doesn’t believe you when you say he snores in his sleep, even though you woke up from him snoring or grunting in his sleep multiple times. You sometimes even heard him mumble something about Genya and ohagi. Your name fell every now and then but you haven’t told him about that yet. He had a huge grin on his was while seemingly dreaming of you, and you didn’t want to hurt his pride even more.

Sanemi is slow in the mornings and needs you to drag him out of bed. If he has nothing to do but train today, so why can’t he just sleep until he needs to train? He’d hunch over the sink and slowly brush his teeth while having his eyes closer again. You once caught him falling asleep in that stance, snoring quietly. While Sanemi is finishing up in the bathroom at a snail’s pace, you take some time to cook up something nice for you two.

Heavy footsteps would stumble down the stairs and Sanemi would drag his heavy body over to you, leaning onto your back and nuzzling his face in your warm neck. He’d groan and squeeze your waist gently.

“You still feel so warm… ugh, I wanna go back to bed…”

In the evenings…

After showering, Sanemi doesn’t really have energy to do anything else after hunting demons all night. He can’t sleep without you though, so he’ll just lay in bed like a log and wait on you to join him. Sometimes, he’d even call out to you to hurry up and cuddle him already.

Once in bed, Sanemi’ll lay his head on your soft chest and close his eyes. His cheek is slightly squished and mouth slightly agape. He’d want you to play with his hair and run your fingers through his white locks. Sometimes, Sanemi would accidentally start drooling onto your skin or shirt, forgetting to swallow his spit. Your massage is just making him forget anything: his worries, fears, train of thought and to swallow his spit.

Of course, Sanemi would be incredibly embarrassed and deny enjoying your craved touch this much. Sometimes, he’d even roll off you and lay on his stomach, pretending that he’s perfectly fine to sleep on his own. You giggling at his flushed face doesn’t help either.

Sanemi does NOT need you to hold him so he can sleep properly and have nice dreams if you act that way!

“Scoot over, I wanna lay down. I don’t need your damn cuddles anymore. You’re just making fun of me, damnit!!”

Kyojuro Rengoku

In the mornings…

Kyojuro’s hair is incredibly messy everytime he wakes up. You can’t resist but to brush through it a couple of times while your husband slept, enjoying the moment of quiet intimacy.

His voice would be raspy and quieter in the mornings in comparison to throughout the day, his smiles smaller and sleepier, yet just as happy and real as usual. Kyojuro would be sleepy in the mornings but would start regaining his energy after having a nutritious breakfast. Usually, he’d make them himself.

Kyojuro would stand by the stove, dressed in either just his nightwear pants or a loose fitting robe. His movements are sluggish and slow, but he still never burnt himself on accident. Sometimes, you would even lean against his muscular back and complain about the tasks ahead of you while Kyojuro quietly listens and cooks breakfast.

“Mh, would you… *yawn*… mind handing me the eggs from over there?”

In the evenings…

Kyojuro still manages to muster up enough energy to keep his vibrant and loud personality, even right before bed. He’s incredibly tired and needs to recharge the whole night to have another successful day of training and slaying demons. The best way to recharge is by holding you close to his chest, letting your head rest on his soft pecks.

Slowly, Kyojuro would start to slip into a sleepier state. His eyes would be droopy and his smile more lovesick while his hand slowly brush over your features. You’re so perfect, do you know that? Sometimes, he might squeeze you a little too hard on accident. It something similar to cuteness aggression, just much more subconscious and softer.

Kyojuro would fall asleep with your imagine in mind and a sleepy smile on his face, his arms wrapped tightly around you, making sure you’re comfortable in his warm arms.

“Hm? Oh, sorry… did I hold you too tightly? Apologies, my love. I missed you the whole day and… forgive me?”

Gyomei Himejima

In the mornings…

Gyomei usually wakes up quite early to go pray, but you keep him in bed for a little longer. You get woken up by the weight on the bed shifting and mumble his name, gently grabbing his forearm and pulling him back onto the bed. He cannot help but obey your wish and lay back down with you. Gyomei is still tired when you pull his head against your chest, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

Tears start falling down his cheeks and onto your shirt as you run your fingers through his messy, short hair. A small smile rested on his face.

His voice is incredibly deep and his chest vibrates against yours as he murmurs quiet prayers to finish his morning routine. Gyomei doesn’t get sleepy very often, but when he does, it’s only in your arms and by your touch.

“You’re a blessing, my pearl…”

In the evenings…

After his endurance training, slaying demons and attending an hashira meeting, even Gyomei gets tired. He would lay right beside you, resting his head on your stomach. His eyes would be closed and arms wrapped around your waist and plush thighs, rubbing gently up and down, feeling your warm skin and stretch marks.

Gyomei would place gentle kisses on your skin and savour your scent. You are absolutely beautiful to him, he doesn’t even need his eyes to see that. While you massage his scalp with your fingers, it feels like the exhaustion is finally catching up to him. With a final sigh, Gyomei finally slipped into something similar to a comatose. Once asleep, only the sound of the cries of a crow can wake him up.

“My love, may I rest with you a little longer? I still haven’t recovered from my last training session… you have a healing effect on me.”

Giyu Tomioka

In the mornings…

He is comparable to a disoriented, deflated balloon. Not that Giyu is bouncing and being happy during the day, it’s just that he’s even more depressed in the mornings. But, on the bright side, Giyu is able to handle your affections better while sleepy. Normally, he’d stiffen up and shortcircuit. But while he’s being tired, you can cup his cheeks and kiss him all over, he’ll just respond with a small whine or groan.

Giyu might become a cuddlebug when you two are in bed and have nothing to do. He’d bury his face in your neck and savour your warmth while he can. Sometimes, he’d bury his face in your even warmer cleavage, falling right back into sleep.

“Mhhrrm… hmm? What did you say?… mhh… didn’t hear..”

In the evenings…

Believe it or not, he becomes even quieter in the evenings. Giyu will silently stare at you, begging at you to just hold him and cradle him to sleep with his eyes. He’d hover around you with eyebags under his eyes, always standing near you until you offer to cuddle him.

His eyebags, glossy eyes and messy hair look him look like a lost puppy, so it was a matter of time until you offered to cuddle in bed. Your soft skin under his calloused hands never felt any nicer.

Giyu would be out in a matter of minutes and fall asleep in an awkward position. One arm would be wrapped around your waist while the other was angled on his side.

“Agh, my shoulder hurts. Did I fall asleep in a weird way?”

💠

I thought of this last night. I have another similar idea about sleepy hairplay and I’m thinking about either writing that idea for the Upper Moons or the hashira, either way, thank you for reading! As mentioned before, I’ll post some asks on the weekend <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

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

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

(holy he kinda looks like xiao here)

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ 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.”