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Tanjiro Kamado hates your new perfume.
He watched Tengen’s three wives gift you the small bottle with confusion. It smelled nice, whatever the fragrance was exactly. Maybe it was air freshener or maybe it was just meant to be smelled straight out of the bottle.
But to the strong smelling boy’s horror, you sprayed it upon your skin. That recognizable, comforting scent he looks for when stuck in a crowd is now gone. Tarnished by that potent smelling liquid. He hates it immediately.
He even watched the way Nezuko, who also had a keen sense of smell due to her demon state, let out strange soft growls in confusion. It seemed to him that she also preferred your natural scent.
But how could he say anything when you look so happy spraying it on every morning. How you have a soft grateful smile on your face, while you take a deep breathe of the sweet smelling concoction.
So, for now he sits there with a strained smile on his face, waiting for it to slowly wear off throughout the day so he can be greeted with your familiar scent. He even goes as far to mention how strong and nice smelling your perfume is later in the day so you don’t feel the need to apply more. He does feel a little bad for lying.
“Isn’t this so much better, Tanjiro? I know you got a dogs nose, don’t you like it? Now you don’t have to smell me all sweaty after battle!” What is he supposed to say to that? That he likes what you smell like after harsh training? Yeah, and admit to being more of a pervert than Zenitsu. He’d rather not.
“Yep! Smells great, Y/N! Like flowers. And don’t worry about the sweat, I’m used to it!” He gives you that familiar bright smile and you kiss him on the cheek before heading out the door.
He stays in the room for a second longer, staring at the small bottle. He might as well be glaring at it. It makes him feel guilty, this was a present, and you liked it. He should have no right to feel so annoyed at the perfume.
But still, couldn’t this be a safety hazard? If your scent was covered how would he be able to find you as quickly as he does? What if it’s stronger than the smell of your blood? What if he doesn’t smell a demon because he is so distracted by how annoyed he is that your perfect scent is now ruined!
He has got to get rid of it. For the sake of his sanity and your protection.
He turns toward Nezuko who recently joined him in your room. “It’s a safety hazard, right Nezuko? I have to do something.”
She nods with a small huff and Tanjiro makes a decision. He is going to get rid of it. Cut the bottle into pieces if he must. It would be a lot more satisfying that way.
He pulls out his blade and points it to thinner part at the top where the spritzer is at. Just like a demon, he will cut the neck off and then it won’t hurt anyone anymore. He pulls his sword back to land the blow. “Tanjiro, I can make a promise that my perfume is not a demon.” You call, watching the whole situation take place as you lean against the wall with a grin.
He jumps out of his skin and turns to you with a guilt ridden face. “Y-Y/N what are you doing in here?” He asks meakly, his face flushed from embarrassment.
He catches a glance at Nezuko leaving the room. Betrayal.
“Looking for you. Heard you mention something about a safety hazard,” You hum, smug smirk on your mouth as you look toward the boy ahead of you.
“You see as someone apart of the Demon Slayer Corps it’s my sacred duty to protect you and everyone else from danger!” He reasons, knowing how ridiculous he sounds in the moment, but trying not to let it get to him.
You blink, raising your eyebrows. “My perfume is dangerous?”
He stumbles, mouth open to try to find any sort of reasoning. He fails. “Uh yes?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s you know…Distracting. Cant focus on killing demons with that smell around.”
You cock your head to the side in confusion. “Because it smells so good?”
“No! Because now I won’t be able to pick up your scent! What happens if you get lost or something and I can’t find you?”
“Alright, that makes sense. I’ll stop wearing it.”
He continues in a ramble, “And it ruins your scent! You smell way better without it. Seriously you can even ask Nezuko!” You raise your eyebrows at him. “How am i supposed to recognize if it’s you near me or some random person if you smell—Wait. You’ll stop wearing it?”
“Of course, if it makes you uncomfortable.” You respond and he feels his body deflate in relief. He was expecting that to be a lot harder considering how much you liked the perfume. He barely had to state his case.
He sighs and brings his sword back up to the neck of the bottle. “Okay good. Shall I behead it?”
You roll your eyes with a smile. “I have a better idea.” You say, before grabbing the bottle and dropping it in the nearest trash bin. You turn back to him with a cheery grin.
He lowers his sword with a slight blush realizing how he looked. “That was a tough one. Definitely a higher rank demon. So glad I had my dog nosed boyfriend to protect me,” You tease and he looks down and puts his sword away. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile at his embarrassed face.
He glances down at you. “Let’s run you a bath”
You frown. “Why?”
“I miss your scent,” He replies with that familiar loving expression. You almost laugh at how ridiculous he sounded, but held back knowing that he was being a hundred percent serious.
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→ Navi → About Me → Rules → Ko-fi → Ask
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→ Prompts → Headcanons → Fics → Thirst Posts
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I started this in March and I finally managed to finish it. It was only supposed to be a short thirst post but yet here we are. Thank you if you decide to give it a go💕
Summary: Tengen thinks Sanemi is wound far too tight, and of course he knows just the way to fix it— by taking him to his favourite brothel.
Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.
Warnings: 18+, reader is a courtesan, implied!Tengen using their services, virgin!Sanemi, sex as a transaction, slight degradation, praise, blowjobs, cum swallowing, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, Sanemi is way too obsessed with reader way too fast (but she likes it!!)
Word Count: 9.4k.
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“Allow yourself to indulge a little, my friend,” Tengen clapped his shoulder with a grin, “After all that’s what this district is for.”
“I have no time for indulgence.” Sanemi scoffed, ripping his shoulder out of Tengen’s grip as he bared his front incisors.
It was already insufferable enough that he’d had to spend the last few nights with the Sound Pillar, but it was made worse by the grand spectacle he’d made when they’d both entered the entertainment district for the first time. The bright lights paired with the bustling crowds seemed to evoke even more intolerable actions from Uzui and Sanemi couldn’t wait to get home.
“There’s always time for indulgence, my friend,” He persisted, not taking his answer for gospel as he continued down the brightly illuminated street, “And don’t you want to experience the soft touch of a woman?”
“Why would I want to do that?” Sanemi sneered, rolling his eyes as Tengen waved over at a group of women who were standing at the entrance to an establishment trying to coax him over.
All Sanemi wanted to do was find a bed at the local inn and rest his head for a few hours so he could be alert when searching for the demon that was rumoured to be sighted in the area. It disgusted him that people were seemingly still out satiating themselves with cheap frivolity when lives were at risk.
“You can’t die a virgin,” He continued, mid-wave, “How embarrassing.”
“You need to assess your priorities if that is what you assume to be an embarrassment.” He snapped, “Not when there are still demons alive—”
“Ah, I worry as much as you,” Sanemi highly doubted it, “But You never know you might find yourself relaxing a bit.” Tengen persisted, “Might find yourself less angry.”
Sanemi sneered as he balled his hands into a fist, preparing to land a strike against his cocky fellow hashira before Tengen pulled back the purple fabric to a building at the side of them, stepping inside the brothel.
“You can wait outside if you want, I’m sure you’ll find the street performers more than entertaining.”
Sanemi glanced towards the rowdy men who were currently playing instruments in the middle of the street, the loud noise irksome as people stopped to dance with them. Scrunching his nose in irritation as he turned to face the Sound Pillar.
“Fine,” His lips smoothed into a thin line, “But you’re fuckin’ paying.”
Sanemi lingered outside as he stared at the wisteria pattern against the curtain. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought before he took a deep breath and followed inside.
“Ah, Mr Uzui, your usual?”
“Not today,” He clapped a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder, “I’ve brought a friend.”
Sanemi could see the girls in the background begin to cower away, even though they tried to hide it. Shrugging Uzui’s hand off his shoulder with a growl of irritation as he tried to avoid the pairs of eyes watching him intently, jaw locked as he sucked in a breath of air.
“How wonderful, Uzui-sama.” The lady bowed as she motioned to a young girl, “Our Oiran is unavailable now, but I’m certain she will more than suffice.”
The girl cowered in fear as she was given a push in her lower back in an attempt to get her feet to start working, the poor thing. She’d barely been here a week and she’d already had a difficult afternoon with a travelling samurai who’d assumed being rough was included with the price.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Shinazugawa.” Uzui called out from behind him as Sanemi glared in irritation. There was certainly no chance of that happening, especially at the sight of the young girl that looked close to tears.
“It would be my honor to serve you tonight, my Lord.” You chanced stepping forward, feeling your Madame turn to glare at you.
“Remember your place,” She jeered, the same sickly sweet smile on her face to mask her indignation before turning back to the hashira, “I’m sorry, Shinazugawa-sama. Please let us show you to your room—”
“I want her.” He cut her off coldly, tired eyes matching your gaze as an unfamiliar heat lingered in your chest.
“Not to question your choice, my Lord. But we have many excellent options here—”
“Keep them.” He stepped towards you as you took this as your moment to turn around. Ignoring your Madame’s calls for him to enjoy his night, and request a change at any time if he so desired. It was no wonder she was worried about you tarnishing her reputation, trying to palm to hashira off on someone far more weak willed. But you were intrigued by the man from the moment he stepped through the door, and the poor girl needed a chance to recover from her ordeal.
You could practically feel his eyes on you as you led him down the wooden hallway towards your room, keeping enough of a distance as you slid the screen door open gently. Stepping to the side to invite him in with a slight bow of your head as the white-haired man followed into the room, scrunching his nose at the potent smell of flowers that permeated the air as you closed the door behind you. It was sickly sweet, worse than the ohagi he’d cook at home; invading his senses as he tried to ignore the scent throbbing at the back of his skull.
You could feel how awkward he was, lingering by the doorway as you could cut the tension in the air with a blade. Smoothing down the front of your kimono as you stood in front of him, noticing the way his lavender eyes took note of the futon in the corner of the room.
So this was the seedy shit that Uzui got up to in his free time? Sanemi scoffed.
An impertinent man with three wives who still managed to find the time to spend in the arms of another. Having one woman would be enough of a nuisance, he thinks. But juggling four sounded like pure greed.
“Can I get you anything Shinazugawa-sama?” You smiled, “Tea? Sake? We also have fresh onigiri—”
Sanemi wished you’d stop calling him that. He usually delighted in the honorific when he was called it by others, but the saccharine lilt to your voice as you danced along his name had his cock pulsing between his thighs uncomfortably.
“No.” He bit back the insult that threatened to follow as you nodded in affirmation.
“Well, you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable for your time here,” You continued, “Our services are open to the Hashira for as long as they see fit.”
He scoffed at that, knowing that a Hashira’s pocket was rarely empty so it made sense they’d want to make as much money from them as possible.
“We don’t have to do anything,” You smiled softly, noticing he was silent as he remained still. The cogs in his head slowly turned as he wondered why he’d even agreed to this in the first place, how he’d even made it this far.
“You think I’m scared or somethin’?” Sanemi gibed, maybe a little harsher than intended, but it felt warranted. Your words made it seem as though you were questioning his valour. And Shinazugawa Sanemi never backed down in fear, especially not like this.
“No,” You tilted your head to the side and Sanemi felt his heart rattle at his cages with how cute you looked. Trying to fight the heat that was slowly rising through his body and tickling the tips of his ears.
He felt hot. If he’d have known this was how easily it was to increase his body temperature warm enough to potentially receive a mark, he would’ve demanded that Uzui bring him here a long, long time ago—
“I can just tell you’ve never been here before,” You hummed, “It’s probably unfamiliar to what you’re used to.”
You were right. Sanemi felt completely out of his depth.
“I have no desire to frequent a whorehouse.” He spat, masking his vulnerability. And yet he was acutely aware of the way you didn’t flinch like many would, cowering away from him in fear as though he were a coiled snake ready to attack.
It was at that moment your eyes met his across the room, and for the first time, he recognised the desolate emptiness in your eyes. He recognised it because it was the same one he held whenever he glanced at his reflection. So much time spent wallowing in self-loathing and pity, forcing himself to submerge himself in sheer hatred instead of looking at the ones around him. Sanemi could tell you’d been through a lot too, suffering at the hands of many while being forced into a life you’d never wanted for yourself. Much like him.
“But you’re here anyway, so you might as well relax for the time,” You smiled back, and it only pained him more that he’d spoken to you with such callousness, “And at least you can avoid your friend for a few hours.”
“Is that what all your visitors come here to do?” He sneered but did not attempt to move.
“To linger in the doorway?” You raised a brow, “No, you would be the first.”
Sanemi felt a heat rise all the way to the tips of his ears at this, noticing he’d barely stepped inside the room since you’d brought him this far.
“I don’t bite, you know.” You laughed as you watched him frozen in place.
Could you tell he was a virgin? He wondered if it was obvious from the way he lingered as his body became engulfed in flames. Willing the ground to swallow him whole at the prospect of appearing so inexperienced, and he was surprised at how much he cared.
“We have many people that come here just to talk,” You smiled, settling down into a kneel, “But you don’t seem like much of a talker.”
But that’s not why he was here, he thinks. The proposition had been offered to him, and Uzui had certainly never mentioned talking. “The perfect medicine!” He’d clapped him on the back as he’d led him towards the establishment, a haughty smile on his face. Sanemi was here to try and settle his temper, to blow off some steam. And yet here he still stood stoic in the doorway, silence hanging in the air.
“Well, if you don’t like to talk. Maybe you’d like to watch?” You offered up the option, as Sanemi froze.
What?
He was certain he wouldn’t make it from this room alive, spending years fighting demons only to be scuppered by a beguiling temptress like you. Positive Uzui had fed him to the wolves the moment he stepped through the doors to this establishment and pulled back the curtain.
Sanemi’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips, a futile action when his throat was this dry, as he played back your offer in his head. The words echoed in his ear as he wondered how he was supposed to receive them, whether he needed to say yes or if you would be so kind as to show him exactly what you meant.
He’d never thought much of laying with a woman before. His line of work failed to offer much chance of finding a suitable wife and settling down, even though Uzui had managed to find three. More interested in ridding the world of the scourge of demons instead of cheap frills and frivolity. Sanemi’s only glimpses of breasts had been in onsens or walking through the Red light district. Enough to have his cock pulsing between his thighs as he fought the temptation, but nothing like how you made him feel standing in front of him right now.
“Uzui-sama had said to show you—”
“Can’t you just get on with it?” He cut you off, definitely a little harsher than intended. But it’s to be expected when he’s like a wild deer backed into a corner, as you mentioned the shepherd that had dragged him to the slaughter.
He was going to kill Uzui-sama when he got out of this, he scoffed, the man probably only attended the house to hear that honorific.
“Of course, Shinazugawa-sama.” You smiled, as Sanemi’s eyes now focused on your smaller hands teasing the opening of your kimono, his cock bucking under his pants at the same honorific, “So you can learn how to please a woman.”
Sanemi didn’t want a woman, he had no intention of pleasing anyone. And yet he found himself wondering on what it would be like to please you. Whether your eyes would roll, or your toes would curl. Thinking about the saccharine sigh of his name tumbling from your lips when he had you on the crux of your bliss. And then he began to wonder whether any man had ever pleased a woman inside these four walls, whether a man had ever pleased you—
“Is that even important?” He scoffed, lips coiled into a sneer as you sat back on your haunches.
“Well, it depends. I’m sure as long as you have a woman to lay with you’ll find your pleasure,” You smiled, finding no offence in his question, “But if you help her find her pleasure you’ll be far more satisfied.”
Sanemi felt the heat inside him start to burn as you pressed him to stay. Telling himself it was out of pure intrigue as he lowered his sword to the floor, his palm still clasped over it as he made his decision to stay.
You managed to get him to kneel, although he positioned himself with one foot on the ground. Knee bent as though he was preparing to flee the scene the moment this became too much.
“So you’re only here because of your friend?” You posed the question to him in an attempt to break the ice, though it was more than obvious to be true.
The hunched shoulders and flushed cheeks made it wholly apparent that this wasn’t one of his usual haunts. And that the Hashira felt extremely out of place—
Awkward.
“He seems to think I’m wound too tight,” Sanemi grunted, eyes focused on the way you languidly disrobed.
If he had the confidence he’d reach across the room and pull the haori down your shoulders himself, telling you to hurry up. He’d never witnessed someone take so long to disrobe, although he supposed this was some sort of show you were supposed to put on for the drunken men who frequented the establishment. So he held back, watching as the fabric finally pooled around you.
“So he brought you here to let off some steam.” You smile, beginning to work on the buttons at the front of your kimono.
“And what say you?” He sneered, “What do you think?”
“I’d say your job is difficult,” You whispered, slowly pulling back the front of your kimono to expose your naked breasts to his prying gaze.
Sanemi didn’t say anything, but you noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. Nostrils flaring as he exhaled softly as the fabric fell around you to join your haori.
“It’s no wonder you have so much rage inside.” You continue, hands delicate in your lap as you allow him to look at you, “It’s okay to let it out. To release some tension—”
You were right, Sanemi supposed. Although since being inside this building he somehow felt worse— the tension continuing to build inside his abdomen as his pelvis tightened uncomfortably, his heavy cock throbbing with desire as it pressed against the front of his uniform. Shifting his thighs as he tried to give himself some slight relief from the incessant throb, as you did little to satiate it when you began to tease your naked breasts.
“Are you a virgin, Shinazugawa-sama?” You asked, although you were certain you already knew the answer.
“What’s it to you?” He mocked, “You’re just a common whore ready to spread her legs. It’s your job—”
“I’m sorry, my Lord.” You smile softly, finding no malice in his words. It was clear he was trying to deflect your question, as though the answer burned him to say, “I was certain you wanted to talk.”
You were worried you may have pushed him too much, that he would turn and flee the room and leave you naked and alone. Or worse— attack.
You’d had it happen before. Men who would enter the building of their own free will, before turning on you at the last moment. Hands wound tight around your neck as they blamed you for cheating on their wives, for making them do this. And it wasn’t just the men who had nothing else to lose; the ones that would spend their final gold on a night with a woman. These were respected members of society— samurai, business owners, and demon slayers. And perhaps that’s why every other woman had cowered in fear when the Wind Pillar had stepped through the door, because they expected nothing less from the ruthless Hashira.
But he looked vulnerable.
“If you don’t want to talk,” You continued to pull back the fabric of your kimono to expose your naked frame to his lilac eyes, the material cascaded down your body and onto the floor as you allowed him to drink in the sight of you. His eyes roamed your naked skin as they followed a path along your sternum, between the valley of your breasts until they settled on your chubby mound, “I’m certain there are other things we could do that would please you.”
Sanemi’s throat seized as he watched your hands reach up to mould against your round breasts, the skin dipping beneath your touch as you let out a soft, satisfied gasp. A sound that sent jolts of electricity surging through his veins. Enough to have his hands balling into tight fists that settled on top of his thighs as blunt nails dug into his palms, focused on the way your nipples hardened as you pinched and rolled them between your thumb and forefinger.
“You can touch me, you know,” You murmured, “I don’t mind.”
Sanemi swallowed thickly at the invitation. It was why he was here, after all. But somehow it felt daunting to reach out and close the gap, unsure where he should even start with you as he stayed stoic across the room.
You chanced scooting towards him across the wooden floor, settling yourself in front of him as you reached out to grasp one of his tightly closed fists. Gently prying his fingers open as he allowed you to contort his hand, splaying his fingers as you laced your fingers through his own, threading them together as your warmth engulfed him.
The action felt too intimate, which felt peculiar to say when he was sat opposite a half-naked stranger. And yet, he found himself not wanting to pull away. He leaned into your touch, his palm squeezing yours as you took it for reassurance, a soft smile on your face as he found himself beginning to relax.
“It’s okay,” You cooed, “We can just sit like this if you’d prefer.”
You were delighted when you felt the tense muscles in his hand begin to relax as his clenched jaw softened.
“Or we can tell your friend we did everything you wanted,” You continue with a laugh, “And that way it wouldn’t be a lie.”
And Sanemi wished he could put all his wants into words. The thoughts that now ran rampant through his mind as he breathed in the candied scent of you, feeling you lean closer to pepper gentle kisses to the side of his jaw. Tickling his skin against the growing stubble that left a shadow as you moved forward to place your hand flat against his muscular thigh.
“There wouldn’t be a need to lie.” Sanemi’s voice was rough like gravel as he tried desperately to wet his tongue, the roof of his mouth giving no appeasement as his Adam’s apple bobbed thickly.
“Oh?” You murmured, feeling no hint of him pulling away as you leaned back to face him. Your breath fanning his skin as you looked at him through thick, long lashes. Sultry eyes flickering towards his chapped lips before returning his gaze, “So what would you like us to tell him?”
“W-what?” Sanemi stuttered, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic.
“What is it you’d like to tell him?” You smiled softly, your hand slipping higher along his thigh, “What stories do you want to return with?”
And now Sanemi was certain this was the closest he’d come to death.
“Maybe I can suck your cock?” The words almost had him falling apart as he focused on every syllable, unused to someone speaking to him with such candour.
“Uh- yeah.” He felt the embarrassment begin to bloom inside him at his pathetic response as his eyes bore into your own.
You managed to get him on his back, chest heaving as you began to unfasten the belt around his hips. Watching the way his gut clenched in anticipation as you palmed him softly through the rough fabric, causing his hips to buck as he cursed beneath his breath.
“You feel big, Shinazugawa-sama.”
“Call me Sanemi.” He barked back gruffly, wanting to hear the sweet sound of his name leave your lips instead.
“Of course, Sanemi.” You cooed. Never making it to the futon as you straddled his thighs where he lay on the hardwood floor. Shrugging off the rest of your kimono to leave your body completely bare above him as he had to try to remember to breathe.
It was difficult to think when he noticed just how close your bare cunt was to his crotch, certain he could feel the warmth radiating from it against his thigh as you began to tug his pants down. Enough to free his aching cock as it drooped hard and heavy against his pelvis, long enough to follow the curve of his hip as the uncut tip leaked pearlescent beads of pre. Your stomach swirled at the sight of him, what he lacked in size he made up for in sheer girth. Thick, bulging veins forking along his girth as you imagined how he would feel buried inside you, the stretch as he fucked to into the shape of him. The thoughts had your neglected cunt throbbing around nothing as you felt warm slick begin to pool between your thighs.
“I was right— you are big.” You noted, wrapping a slender hand around him at the base as his hips jerked in surprise. Biting back a sharp hiss from between clenched teeth at the sensation as his palms instantly balled into fists at his sides.
“Is that what you say to every man that passes through here?” Sanemi spat, but he secretly hoped this wasn’t the case. He was filled with the incessant desire to impress you, to have you fawning over him. Even though none of this was real.
“No, actually,” You smiled, “I think it might actually hurt if you fuck me.”
Sanemi’s cock kicked with your blase tone, certain he was about to come undone from your words alone. But as if that weren’t enough, he felt himself choking back a grunt when you leaned down to press a lingering kiss to his leaking tip. Licking your lips to taste his pre as you stared up at him from under thick lashes, “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”
Sanemi almost snorted at this. As though he wouldn’t be able to overpower you and push you off in an instant, you wouldn’t stand a chance—
“Oh, fuckin’ shit—” All conscious thoughts were ripped away from him the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock. Catching you by surprise as his hips jerked roughly, forcing more of his length inside your wet mouth as the heady tip of his cock pressed against the back of your throat. The sudden motion caused you to gag as you pulled back to cough and splutter, and Sanemi felt downright depraved when he throbbed at the sight of you. Strings of spit mixed with his pre connected him to your mouth as he groaned, noticing the fat tears that now clumped in your lashes as he tried to remember to breathe, “I’m sorry, I’m—”
“It’s okay,” You brushed him off with a smile, your warm palms stroked softly against his hairy thighs as he tried to calm his body down, “I actually liked it.”
You liked it? Gods, you were certain to be the death of him.
You took him into your mouth again as he fought back the urge to cant his hips forward, growling when your tongue began to trace the bulging veins along his length. Hollowing your cheeks as you began to gently bob your head along him as the hand wrapped around his base began to massage his heavy balls.
It was no wonder Uzui always seemed particularly cheery if this was what he got to experience at home. Sanemi’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he clenched them shut, positive that one look at you with your lips wrapped around him would have him coming undone in an instant.
“You can hold my head, show me what you like.” You murmured against the tip of his cock as you pulled back for air before swallowing him again. Coaxing him to touch you, to move you how he’d like to be treated, and Sanmei wondered why he should even bother when this already felt like heaven.
The whiny, desperate whine that vibrated around his cock the moment he held the back of your head in a large palm was his answer. Your throat instantly tightened around him as he swallowed back another debauched moan, tightening his grip as he began to help you bob your head along his cock. Careful not to hurt you as he pushed you down so the tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat with each downward motion, something that had him leaking even more pre as the salty taste dampened your tongue.
Sanemi could already feel his balls tightening in anticipation, your movements sending him closer to bliss as he used your mouth for his own pleasure.
There’s something about being the only person to see Shinazugawa Sanemi like this. A strong, powerful man who strikes fear into the hearts of many brought to his knees as you tower over him.
His cheeks blaze fiery red as the bloom spreads to the tips of his ears as you wrap his cock into a gentle fist, squeezing the base as he tries to stop his hips from canting forward pathetically. The noise that spills from his lips is more akin to an injured animal as he tries to stop himself from spilling his release so easily. But this is exactly what you do to him, the only person that can make him feel this way.
“Do something.” His tone is cold and brash, but there’s no real malice behind it as you have him as close to begging as you can.
Your fingers slip lower from his balls as you run your thumb along his taint, dipping into the sensitive skin as you have Sanemi’s hips bucking wildly as he catches you completely off guard as he cums with a depraved snarl. Hot, sticky ropes of cum spurt from his pulsing cock as you catch them in your mouth, coating your throat in his potent seed as his chest heaves from the intensity. His hand remains rough at the back of your head as he forgets his hold on you, keeping you pinned on his cock as he fills you with his release.
It’s only when you splutter that Sanemi realises his hold on you, pulling away as though he’s been burned as his lilac eyes stare down at you with worry. Watching you quiver as you cough and splutter again, as he sits up in an instant to cup your neck and assess if you’re okay.
“Shit, I’m sorry—” He rasps, his cock still half-hard and doused in your spit as it hangs between you. “I didn’t mean to— are you okay?”
And for the first time, it feels as though he’s let his walls down. The worry in his tone, paired with his wide eyes show you the concern that you hadn’t expected from the harsh Wind Pillar when he’d first entered the room, and yet here he was offering you more kindness and compassion than a lot of your previous visitors.
Your throat burns, but you answer him by parting your lips and lolling your tongue out so he can see that you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he’d given you. An action that already has his cock stirring for more attention as Sanemi bites back the harsh groan that threatens to rumble deep in his chest at the sight of you.
You really had no idea that you’d be the complete undoing of him, he supposed as he allowed his thumb to brush against your soft cheek. Smiling when you leaned into his touch, still settled between his thighs.
He decided at that moment he’d quite like to kiss you. Uncertain if that was even something people did in these establishments, whether you’d even allow him to. Wondering if you’d ever wanted to kiss any of the men you’d spent time with working here, whether you’d even want to kiss him. Remembering that this was probably nothing more than a job to you, another way to pay off your debts and get yourself out.
He’d get you out if he could. Spare you from all the disgusting, rowdy creeps that you have to deal with daily and protect you from the horrors of this world.
“Are you okay?” You tilted your head to the side as Sanemi was brought back from his thoughts.
“Weren’t you gonna show me how to please a woman?” He ignored your question as his chapped lips brushed against the curve of your jaw.
“Oh,” Your cheeks flushed with a delicate flourish as warmth bloomed across your skin, “Oh, yeah.”
You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you’d even be able to handle his touch on your skin. Your cunt already throbbing wanton and desperate with need as your slick began to soak your inner thighs, positive no one else had made you feel like this before.
Reaching out to wrap your smaller palm around his wrist as he allowed you to move it how you pleased, lifting it to move it to settle against one of your soft breasts.
“Oh,” You heaved a sigh as your fingers stayed wrapped around his wrist as Sanemi began to clench his fingers, barely a squeeze as though he was worried about hurting you as you coaxed him for more, “That feels good.”
The words seemed to encourage him as he began to massage the soft skin, calloused fingers grazing against your sensitive nipples that had you crying out for him. Pleased when he took the initiative to give your other breast the same attention, your cheeks flushed as he stared shamelessly at your exposed skin.
Reaching down you circled a hand around his thick wrist, raising his hand as you placed his calloused palm against your warm breast. Thick lashes fluttered on impact as you looked down at the way he encompassed it, fingers barely flexing as he noticed the way his hand circled it. You ground your hips against him, his semi-hard cock poking into the swell of your ass as you remained seated on his abdomen. The motion pressed you harder against his hand as he began to clench his fingers, squeezing the supple skin as a breathy whine escaped your lips.
Sanemi hadn’t seen many breasts, but he was certain that you were the prettiest by far. Gaining more confidence as he started to squeeze at the soft skin, his thumb grazing over one of your hardening nipples as it stiffened to a taut peak. Biting down on glossy lips you watched him focused and intent, giving the same attention to the other side as he began to palm them both.
Sanemi inhaled softly when your fingers began to busy themselves with the fastenings of his shirt, spreading what little was left to push it off his shoulders along with his haori. Your eyes trailed over each raised scar that marred his perfect skin, fingertips delicately brushing over each line of rough skin and puckered flesh. Giving the same amount of attention to each one, knowing that they all held their own story. Spending slightly longer on the long ones that crossed against the front of his chest, dangerously close to his heart as your palm stopped against his sternum to feel his heart hammering against his chest.
Sanemi had never found his scars repulsive, but for some reason beneath your gaze, he felt self-conscious. Worried that you may find him hideous and cower away from him like most others did. Others, whose opinions he didn’t care about, but yours?
“I know they appear ugly.”
“They’re not ugly,” You hum softly, “I’m just sorry you had to go through the pain to receive them.”
Some scars run deeper, ones that don’t mark and marr his skin. The ones that permeate through to his heart, twisting and contorting as they sear into him hotter than any flame. Demons that keep him awake at night as he’s forced to relive the moments he’s received them, times that he’s faced certain death— and perhaps he deserved it. The pain of receiving them was often forgotten by Sanemi. The hurt and damage from each scar would never equate to the feeling of seeing his loved ones slain, from losing his family.
“But each one tells a story,” You continued, smiling softly. Fingertips stroking over the raised scars there, following the damaged skin as you mapped out every curve and ridge. “Each one holds a reason as to why you’re still here.”
Sanemi had never had someone touch him like this before, he’d never been handled with such care. It was at that moment that Sanemi decided he didn’t want you with anyone else, that you were his and only his.
“We all have scars, but some we try to hide more than others.” You hummed.
Fuck it. He thought as he reached around your neck to pull you into a fierce kiss, catching you off guard. His teeth clashed against your soft lips as he fought to deepen in, inexperience shining through his actions as his nose bumped yours roughly. His movements were sloppy and unpractised as he was far too chaste; too eager. Your lips follow along with his to try and guide him, your tongue teasingly laps at the corner of his lips and he does little to stop you. Trying to anticipate your movements as his lips fall open, granting you entrance as you smile against him.
Your fingers splay against his jaw, holding him steady to help slow him down. Moving your lips with purpose as your tongue brushed past his parted ones, delving into his mouth as you swallowed the moans that vibrated at the back of Sanemi’s throat. Tilting your head to deepen the kiss as you felt his arms encircle you to pull you closer, tightening his grip on you as if no matter how close you were it would never be enough.
His still half-hard cock is trapped between your bodies as you shamelessly roll your hips, pressing your lower half against it for some sweet relief as your cunt virtually burned with neglect. You’d never felt so on edge as you were tempted to reach down and press two fingers to your puffy clit to give yourself some respite. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by the perceptive Hashira who broke the kiss to stare between your bodies.
Sanemi’s fingers were warm as they brushed through your messy folds, hiding your face in his neck as you felt his knuckle graze your clit. A whiny, breathless sigh warmed his skin when he felt your tight hole begin to catch against the calloused pad of his finger.
How were you this fucking wet already and he’d barely touched you? Was this all for him?
“Please,” You murmured. Sanemi felt you roll your hips against his hand, as though you were trying to drop yourself down on his finger, eager for stimulation. Granting your wish as he slipped a solo finger inside you, baulking when he felt how warm, wet and tight you were.
Sanemi wasn’t foolish, he knew about sex. But he just had no idea that this is what you looked like down there, what you felt like. How was he supposed to fit his cock inside here when you were this tight? Surely he’d split you in two.
The moan that left your lips was debauched, and the sound surged directly to his cock. Swallowing thickly as he pressed forward again, letting the calloused pad of his finger press against your velvety walls. Trying to draw another noise like that from your throat.
Sanemi was gentle and precise compared to the other men that frequented the establishment, so used to your pleasure being unimportant as they were quick to push into you with little care or decency. Fulfilling their own needs and leaving you a crumpled, fragile mess after with comments on how thankful you should be that they were helping to pay off your debt. Glad that most men that you encountered seemed to only want comfort, a warm body to lay beside so they could fool themselves for a moment that they mattered to someone.
“Is this okay?” His voice was laced with uncertainty, his finger plunging into your tight sex as he grazed your ridged walls.
“Curl it,” You murmured, breaking off into a high-pitched gasp when he brushed against the sensitive spot inside you. Your reaction was an indication he’d found what he’d been searching for as he focused his movements against it. Deft and precise as Sanemi began to pump the lone finger in and out of you, lilac eyes focused on the way your face contorted in pleasure.
“Yeah?” He hummed in satisfaction, “You like that?”
Your cunt clenched around him in response, biting down on your bottom lip as you found yourself rolling your hips in tandem with him, moving one of your hands from his shoulders to slip between your bodies to join his as you pressed slow, precise circles against your needy clit.
“What are you doing?” His voice turned to a deep snarl, brows furrowed as he watched you touch yourself in front of him.
“Touching my clit.” You gasped as he knocked your hand away roughly, moving his thumb to press blindly against your slit to replace it.
“I’ll do it,” He growled, the authoritative lilt to his tone had you trembling as he made rough strokes in an attempt to find your sensitive nub, “There?”
He questioned as he rubbed the junction of your labia, pressing against your folds as you tried to lift your hips to position his hand.
“No,” You murmured, holding his wrist before moving your slender fingers towards his thumb to press the pad of it flat against your clit. Whining on contact as his touch felt instantly better than your own, “Here— can you feel it?”
“Yeah,” Sanemi released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in as he began to press tough, persistent circles against it while curling his finger inside you.
“Add another finger, please?” You begged, moving your hands back to his broad shoulders to support yourself as you continued to match his movements.
“Yeah?” He murmured, pressing both fingers against the spongy spot inside you as he began to thrust them languidly, tilting his head back to stop you from shying away from his gaze as he watched your face morph into pleasure, “You like that?”
“So good,” You affirmed, feeling the coil inside you start to wind and tighten as Sanemi focused on your pleasure. Certain your cunt was drooling into his open palm as he followed your movements, pressing deeper each time you tried to roll your hips, “I’m close.”
“Then cum.” His voice commanded, his tone curt and domineering as you found yourself succumbing to the pleasure that threatened to spill over. Your cunt clenched desperately around his digits as you came with a choked gargle of his name, white spots blanking your vision as your entire body convulsed. Sanemi’s other hand splayed flat at the arch of your back to stop you from toppling backwards as he continued to press messy circles into your throbbing clit, prolonging the sensation, “Good girl.” The words had you throbbing as he helped you ride out your bliss.
“I—” You panted, at a loss for words as your nails dug into the delicate skin on his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped moons in their wake that Sanemi hoped would scar.
“God, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum.” Sanemi grunted, and you had to rip his hand away from your poor sex when the sensation became too much. Already feeling him forcing you towards another—
“You shouldn’t be so good at that, Shinazugawa-sama.” You groaned in satisfaction, pulling back as you noticed his cock practically leaking against his chest from the sight of you. Leaving silvery lines of pre against his skin as he sat hard and ready for you.
“What did I say to call me?” He rasped.
“Sanemi,” You breathed, and the Wind Pillar was certain he would never tire of hearing his name flow from your lips.
Was it normal to fall in love the first night with someone? With a courtesan no less. Sanemi wondered how many men had stepped through the doors of this house with the same question, returning to spend the night with a woman who was only interested in how deep their pockets were. But it somehow felt different with you— the look in your eyes made it feel like it was something more than just a transaction. And well, if it wasn’t Sanemi was positive he’d give every last penny he owned for one more night with you.
“It’s okay if you want to stop,” You smiled gently, hoping that he wouldn’t. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing as you yearned for him, wanting to feel him stretch you out in the most intoxicating way.
You were certain it was going to hurt judging from the sheer mass that was now resting between your thighs, thick and heady. Feeling the tip almost graze your belly button as you imagined just how deep he would be inside of you. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation as he began to stroke the fat tip of his cock between your messy folds. Feeling them part for him as he nudged against your sensitive clit, making you cry out for him as he repeated the motion.
“Why would I stop?” He bit back, “You’re getting paid aren’t you?”
He hated himself for the words that left his lips, the regret evident on his features the moment he’d uttered them. But it was what he did. Pushing people away before they got too close, before he let them in—
“I’m sorry,” He murmured apologetically, “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” You cut him off with a small smile, used to hearing far worse as you smoothed a hand through the light hairs that scarred against his chest, “Are you ready?”
And Sanemi was certain he’d never been more prepared for anything in his life, his palms still planted firmly against your hips as he watched you reach down to wrap your palm around his drooling cock.
Holding it upright as you leaned forward to adjust yourself so the building tip was pressed against your right entrance. His fingers were no match for the stretch of the engorged tip as you slowly began to coax him inside. The first inch was painful, a delicious ache swirling in your abdomen as you tried to relax. Inhaling deeply as you gave an experimental roll of your hips, forcing another inch inside as you began to feel the stretch. The protruding veins that forked along his girth did nothing to ease the tension as you could practically feel them throb against your inner walls as you sank lower onto him.
Sanemi wasn’t fairing much better, his pupils blown as he was certain he could see every shade of colour. His grip against your hips bruising now as he tried to think of anything but the sensation of your cunt wrapped around him for the first time. He was barely halfway inside, and now he was positive he wouldn’t last by the time you made it to the base— his balls already drawn up and heavy as he imagined emptying his seed into your ripe cunt.
You were so fucking warm, and drenched. It was making it difficult to think as your slick left creamy rings around the girth of his cock, drooling down to his balls as you soaked his skin. Sanemi found himself becoming lightheaded, blindly pawing for your waist to centre himself. The back of his head knocked against the wooden floor as he readjusted his hips, giving you a few more inches as you moaned at the sensation. Catching yourself with soft palms against his chest as you rolled down into his touch, his stiff cock almost wholly inside you as you felt the messy hairs that sat at his base tickle your clit.
You still for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. But it feels like a moment too long for Sanemi, a moment that drives him closer to the desperate release his body already craves. His hefty balls are already tight and pulsing as they threaten to spill into your eager hole.
It’s as though you notice when you start to roll your hips above him. But Sanemi reckons this is worse— your tits sway with your alluring movement, the cool air in the room hits his cock when you rise your hips to pull off him before seating yourself back down and he’s certain you’ll be the death of him. That Uzui will find the shattered remains of his body in this very room as he dies buried deep inside your molten cunt. How had he managed to continue life for so long without feeling this? It’s now the only pleasure he ever wants to indulge in as he watches you intently through blown eyes.
“Are you okay?” You hum with a teasing swirl of your hips and Sanemi has to wet his lips to reply. His tongue rolls over white teeth before clearing his throat, a heavy rumble in his chest as calloused fingers dip into the fat at your hips.
“‘m fine,” It’s all he can muster. Certain if he says more it’ll be over, and Sanemi doesn’t want this to be over, “Fuckin’ tight.”
“You feel so good,” You offer in return, “Stretching me so much—”
And Sanemi isn’t sure he even wants to hear it. Uncertain whether it’s because you have his cock pulsing from your sultry tone that leaves him shaking on the crux of his climax, or that he thinks you’re lying. Another deceitful line you give to all your paying customers.
“Shinazugawa-sama.” You breathe and Sanemi feels his Adam’s apple throb in his throat.
“Sanemi,” He growls, low and domineering, “I said call me Sanemi.”
“Sanemi.” You parrot, and the sound of it has his hips jerking sloppily as he fucks up into you, his name now sounded from your lips like a dull mantra, “Sanemi.”
Your hands are splayed across his chest as you try to keep your movements consistent, hips rolling against him as you ride his cock. Trying to commit the sight to memory as your eyes follow every line and scar that settles across his skin, soft fingertips following them as you ride him. An indication of just how powerful the man beneath you is, the man you’ve brought to his knees.
“Oh, fuck.” You sound out, and Sanemi thinks it’s cute the sound of such a vulgar word spilling from your sweet lips.
And Sanemi wants to make you make more sounds like that, to pull every one from your pretty throat and commit each one to memory. Remembering every saccharine lilt and coo as though he’s conducting his own debauched symphony. Sounds that will comfort him when he thinks of you, of this. He moves his hand from your hip, pressing a thumb against your pelvis before dipping lower. Stroking his digits through your messy slit, and when he touches your clit your body convulses. Hips bucking so wildly on contact his eyes are wide as though he’s done something wrong. Taking his hand to press his fingers back against it as you coax him into touching you there again.
Hunching over him as you try to keep your pace, your movements borderline pathetic as you chase the pleasure of his calloused thumb against your sensitive bud. His eyes watch you curiously as he speeds up the sloppy figure of eights he presses into it, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him in response.
“This is supposed to be for you.” You choke out, unused to your clients even thinking about your pleasure.
“Who says it’s not?” Sanemi scoffs; the sight of you like this is worth every damn penny Uzui is paying, “I want you to come undone for me.”
The dominant, commanding husk to his voice has your pelvis contorting as your body wills itself to unravel on command. Barely able to cry out his name as you find your release, your silky walls clamp down around his cock as they desperately try to milk him of his release. Your nails dig into muscular pectorals as you try to keep yourself upright, to hold onto the single thread of sanity you have left.
But Sanemi’s thumb doesn’t stop against your clit, following your jerky movements as your hips coil and spasm. Keeping his touch firm and persistent as he helps you ride out one climax to have you soaring towards another.
It’s too much, and you’re not sure you can handle it as your hands slip down to wrap around his wrist. Feebly trying to pull his grip away from your sloppy cunt as you watch the muscles in his arm tighten, veins popping out proudly as they fork towards his wrist. Practically snarling as he easily fights your weaker grip, “Don’t.”
And once again he throws you into ecstasy, your body trembling as another intense orgasm surges through your veins. Soaking his cock with your essence as you feel how wet and sloppy you are between your thighs, any friction dissipating as it’s all you can do but pathetically grind yourself against his finger while you ride out your bliss.
“Sanemi,” You whine, unable to hold yourself upright as you feel yourself falling forward onto his chest. Your face nuzzled into the junction of his neck as you trap his muscular arm between your bodies, his thumb still at your overstimulated clit as he gives it a few more lingering swipes, “S’too much.”
And Sanemi has to agree. It’s far too much, but also not enough at the same time. His cock throbs at the feeling of your drenched walls soaking him, fluttering in the aftershocks of your release as he’s certain he’s on the cusp of his own end. Slipping his arm from between your bodies in ease in favour of wrapping both arms around you, pinning you against his chest as he bends both his legs at the knee. Planting his feet on the hardwood floor for stability as he holds you against him.
He catches you by surprise as he begins to thrust up into you. His movements are chaotic and messy, with a deep-set sense of urgency as he chases his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixes with the syrupy wetness of your cunt that has your cheeks burning fiery red as you pant and whine against his neck. Mouthing at the thin layer of sweat that sticks to his skin, the salty taste of it mitigating on your tongue as you let him use you for his pleasure.
“Fuck, Sanemi.” Your voice sings out against the column of his throat and his hips give one more rugged jolt as he buries himself inside you to the hilt and coats your inner walls with balmy spurts of cum. The sensation causes heat to plume inside you as you indulge in the sensation as he gives a few more careless thrusts like he’s unable to stop his hips from jerking as he gives you everything he’s got left to give.
Sanemi’s eyes are blown wide, staring up at the ceiling as you move with the rise and fall of his chest. His arms still wound so tightly around you that you’re unable to move, left to bask in the warm afterglow as you cling to him. One of your hands braced against his sternum, feeling for the cadence of his racing heart.
“Are you okay?” You murmur softly when he hasn’t spoken for a while, and you’re met with a delicate kiss to your temple as he tightens his grip.
You’re certain you lay there for hours after, his warmth engulfing you as he traces gentle patterns against the expanse of your back while your fingers cord through his messy hair. Nails grazing against his skin while you feel the pleasure rumble deep in his chest, eyes heavy as sleep threatens to consume you. You shift above him slightly and whine pathetically as you feel his soft cock finally slip from your sloppy hole, the wetness unable to maintain a grip on him as you shudder at the cold air in the room cooling your molten cunt. His thick, potent seed begins to drip from your cunt into thick puddles on his pelvis and onto the floor as his arms tighten possessively around you for the smallest hint of a moment. As though he’d tricked himself into thinking that you were actually his, before realising his foolish mistake.
“I should go.” His voice rumbles, firm and authoritative. A sound that has you moving off him, despite your body’s plea to stay like this just a while longer.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Shinazugawa-sama.” You respond, watching as he begins to redress himself. Tucking his cock, still glazed with your drying slick, back into his pants.
You’d hoped he would correct you a final time. Telling you to call him by name as he buttoned the first few buttons of his shirt before tugging his haori back on, but the words don’t come.
You wonder whether it’s because he’s unsure what to say, lingering by the door as though he wants to turn back to give you a proper goodbye. Reaching down to grab your kimono to pull it back over your shoulders.
“Thank you.” He whispers before tugging at the door.
You were hoping it would feel a little less transactional, even though you were certain that this was all it was to him. A coldness now resides in the room that you’re certain you’d never felt before, an uncertain frost that bites away at the fierce burn of your heart. You have to remind yourself of the reason why you’re here, the reason why the Wind Hashira had chosen to lay with you.
The next morning you were surprised to find out just how much Sanemi had left behind that evening. Certain the payment was more than enough to settle your debts and free you from this existence, as you felt the fog of uncertainty that shrouded your time here begin to clear.
You’d hoped that he would’ve left some way to thank him, a forwarding address or at least a note to accompany the payment. But what you didn’t expect was for the Wind Pillar to be waiting at the dark purple curtains for you as you came down the stairs.
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I started this in March and I finally managed to finish it. It was only supposed to be a short thirst post but yet here we are. Thank you if you decide to give it a go💕
Summary: Tengen thinks Sanemi is wound far too tight, and of course he knows just the way to fix it— by taking him to his favourite brothel.
Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.
Warnings: 18+, reader is a courtesan, implied!Tengen using their services, virgin!Sanemi, sex as a transaction, slight degradation, praise, blowjobs, cum swallowing, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, Sanemi is way too obsessed with reader way too fast (but she likes it!!)
Word Count: 9.4k.
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“Allow yourself to indulge a little, my friend,” Tengen clapped his shoulder with a grin, “After all that’s what this district is for.”
“I have no time for indulgence.” Sanemi scoffed, ripping his shoulder out of Tengen’s grip as he bared his front incisors.
It was already insufferable enough that he’d had to spend the last few nights with the Sound Pillar, but it was made worse by the grand spectacle he’d made when they’d both entered the entertainment district for the first time. The bright lights paired with the bustling crowds seemed to evoke even more intolerable actions from Uzui and Sanemi couldn’t wait to get home.
“There’s always time for indulgence, my friend,” He persisted, not taking his answer for gospel as he continued down the brightly illuminated street, “And don’t you want to experience the soft touch of a woman?”
“Why would I want to do that?” Sanemi sneered, rolling his eyes as Tengen waved over at a group of women who were standing at the entrance to an establishment trying to coax him over.
All Sanemi wanted to do was find a bed at the local inn and rest his head for a few hours so he could be alert when searching for the demon that was rumoured to be sighted in the area. It disgusted him that people were seemingly still out satiating themselves with cheap frivolity when lives were at risk.
“You can’t die a virgin,” He continued, mid-wave, “How embarrassing.”
“You need to assess your priorities if that is what you assume to be an embarrassment.” He snapped, “Not when there are still demons alive—”
“Ah, I worry as much as you,” Sanemi highly doubted it, “But You never know you might find yourself relaxing a bit.” Tengen persisted, “Might find yourself less angry.”
Sanemi sneered as he balled his hands into a fist, preparing to land a strike against his cocky fellow hashira before Tengen pulled back the purple fabric to a building at the side of them, stepping inside the brothel.
“You can wait outside if you want, I’m sure you’ll find the street performers more than entertaining.”
Sanemi glanced towards the rowdy men who were currently playing instruments in the middle of the street, the loud noise irksome as people stopped to dance with them. Scrunching his nose in irritation as he turned to face the Sound Pillar.
“Fine,” His lips smoothed into a thin line, “But you’re fuckin’ paying.”
Sanemi lingered outside as he stared at the wisteria pattern against the curtain. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought before he took a deep breath and followed inside.
“Ah, Mr Uzui, your usual?”
“Not today,” He clapped a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder, “I’ve brought a friend.”
Sanemi could see the girls in the background begin to cower away, even though they tried to hide it. Shrugging Uzui’s hand off his shoulder with a growl of irritation as he tried to avoid the pairs of eyes watching him intently, jaw locked as he sucked in a breath of air.
“How wonderful, Uzui-sama.” The lady bowed as she motioned to a young girl, “Our Oiran is unavailable now, but I’m certain she will more than suffice.”
The girl cowered in fear as she was given a push in her lower back in an attempt to get her feet to start working, the poor thing. She’d barely been here a week and she’d already had a difficult afternoon with a travelling samurai who’d assumed being rough was included with the price.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Shinazugawa.” Uzui called out from behind him as Sanemi glared in irritation. There was certainly no chance of that happening, especially at the sight of the young girl that looked close to tears.
“It would be my honor to serve you tonight, my Lord.” You chanced stepping forward, feeling your Madame turn to glare at you.
“Remember your place,” She jeered, the same sickly sweet smile on her face to mask her indignation before turning back to the hashira, “I’m sorry, Shinazugawa-sama. Please let us show you to your room—”
“I want her.” He cut her off coldly, tired eyes matching your gaze as an unfamiliar heat lingered in your chest.
“Not to question your choice, my Lord. But we have many excellent options here—”
“Keep them.” He stepped towards you as you took this as your moment to turn around. Ignoring your Madame’s calls for him to enjoy his night, and request a change at any time if he so desired. It was no wonder she was worried about you tarnishing her reputation, trying to palm to hashira off on someone far more weak willed. But you were intrigued by the man from the moment he stepped through the door, and the poor girl needed a chance to recover from her ordeal.
You could practically feel his eyes on you as you led him down the wooden hallway towards your room, keeping enough of a distance as you slid the screen door open gently. Stepping to the side to invite him in with a slight bow of your head as the white-haired man followed into the room, scrunching his nose at the potent smell of flowers that permeated the air as you closed the door behind you. It was sickly sweet, worse than the ohagi he’d cook at home; invading his senses as he tried to ignore the scent throbbing at the back of his skull.
You could feel how awkward he was, lingering by the doorway as you could cut the tension in the air with a blade. Smoothing down the front of your kimono as you stood in front of him, noticing the way his lavender eyes took note of the futon in the corner of the room.
So this was the seedy shit that Uzui got up to in his free time? Sanemi scoffed.
An impertinent man with three wives who still managed to find the time to spend in the arms of another. Having one woman would be enough of a nuisance, he thinks. But juggling four sounded like pure greed.
“Can I get you anything Shinazugawa-sama?” You smiled, “Tea? Sake? We also have fresh onigiri—”
Sanemi wished you’d stop calling him that. He usually delighted in the honorific when he was called it by others, but the saccharine lilt to your voice as you danced along his name had his cock pulsing between his thighs uncomfortably.
“No.” He bit back the insult that threatened to follow as you nodded in affirmation.
“Well, you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable for your time here,” You continued, “Our services are open to the Hashira for as long as they see fit.”
He scoffed at that, knowing that a Hashira’s pocket was rarely empty so it made sense they’d want to make as much money from them as possible.
“We don’t have to do anything,” You smiled softly, noticing he was silent as he remained still. The cogs in his head slowly turned as he wondered why he’d even agreed to this in the first place, how he’d even made it this far.
“You think I’m scared or somethin’?” Sanemi gibed, maybe a little harsher than intended, but it felt warranted. Your words made it seem as though you were questioning his valour. And Shinazugawa Sanemi never backed down in fear, especially not like this.
“No,” You tilted your head to the side and Sanemi felt his heart rattle at his cages with how cute you looked. Trying to fight the heat that was slowly rising through his body and tickling the tips of his ears.
He felt hot. If he’d have known this was how easily it was to increase his body temperature warm enough to potentially receive a mark, he would’ve demanded that Uzui bring him here a long, long time ago—
“I can just tell you’ve never been here before,” You hummed, “It’s probably unfamiliar to what you’re used to.”
You were right. Sanemi felt completely out of his depth.
“I have no desire to frequent a whorehouse.” He spat, masking his vulnerability. And yet he was acutely aware of the way you didn’t flinch like many would, cowering away from him in fear as though he were a coiled snake ready to attack.
It was at that moment your eyes met his across the room, and for the first time, he recognised the desolate emptiness in your eyes. He recognised it because it was the same one he held whenever he glanced at his reflection. So much time spent wallowing in self-loathing and pity, forcing himself to submerge himself in sheer hatred instead of looking at the ones around him. Sanemi could tell you’d been through a lot too, suffering at the hands of many while being forced into a life you’d never wanted for yourself. Much like him.
“But you’re here anyway, so you might as well relax for the time,” You smiled back, and it only pained him more that he’d spoken to you with such callousness, “And at least you can avoid your friend for a few hours.”
“Is that what all your visitors come here to do?” He sneered but did not attempt to move.
“To linger in the doorway?” You raised a brow, “No, you would be the first.”
Sanemi felt a heat rise all the way to the tips of his ears at this, noticing he’d barely stepped inside the room since you’d brought him this far.
“I don’t bite, you know.” You laughed as you watched him frozen in place.
Could you tell he was a virgin? He wondered if it was obvious from the way he lingered as his body became engulfed in flames. Willing the ground to swallow him whole at the prospect of appearing so inexperienced, and he was surprised at how much he cared.
“We have many people that come here just to talk,” You smiled, settling down into a kneel, “But you don’t seem like much of a talker.”
But that’s not why he was here, he thinks. The proposition had been offered to him, and Uzui had certainly never mentioned talking. “The perfect medicine!” He’d clapped him on the back as he’d led him towards the establishment, a haughty smile on his face. Sanemi was here to try and settle his temper, to blow off some steam. And yet here he still stood stoic in the doorway, silence hanging in the air.
“Well, if you don’t like to talk. Maybe you’d like to watch?” You offered up the option, as Sanemi froze.
What?
He was certain he wouldn’t make it from this room alive, spending years fighting demons only to be scuppered by a beguiling temptress like you. Positive Uzui had fed him to the wolves the moment he stepped through the doors to this establishment and pulled back the curtain.
Sanemi’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips, a futile action when his throat was this dry, as he played back your offer in his head. The words echoed in his ear as he wondered how he was supposed to receive them, whether he needed to say yes or if you would be so kind as to show him exactly what you meant.
He’d never thought much of laying with a woman before. His line of work failed to offer much chance of finding a suitable wife and settling down, even though Uzui had managed to find three. More interested in ridding the world of the scourge of demons instead of cheap frills and frivolity. Sanemi’s only glimpses of breasts had been in onsens or walking through the Red light district. Enough to have his cock pulsing between his thighs as he fought the temptation, but nothing like how you made him feel standing in front of him right now.
“Uzui-sama had said to show you—”
“Can’t you just get on with it?” He cut you off, definitely a little harsher than intended. But it’s to be expected when he’s like a wild deer backed into a corner, as you mentioned the shepherd that had dragged him to the slaughter.
He was going to kill Uzui-sama when he got out of this, he scoffed, the man probably only attended the house to hear that honorific.
“Of course, Shinazugawa-sama.” You smiled, as Sanemi’s eyes now focused on your smaller hands teasing the opening of your kimono, his cock bucking under his pants at the same honorific, “So you can learn how to please a woman.”
Sanemi didn’t want a woman, he had no intention of pleasing anyone. And yet he found himself wondering on what it would be like to please you. Whether your eyes would roll, or your toes would curl. Thinking about the saccharine sigh of his name tumbling from your lips when he had you on the crux of your bliss. And then he began to wonder whether any man had ever pleased a woman inside these four walls, whether a man had ever pleased you—
“Is that even important?” He scoffed, lips coiled into a sneer as you sat back on your haunches.
“Well, it depends. I’m sure as long as you have a woman to lay with you’ll find your pleasure,” You smiled, finding no offence in his question, “But if you help her find her pleasure you’ll be far more satisfied.”
Sanemi felt the heat inside him start to burn as you pressed him to stay. Telling himself it was out of pure intrigue as he lowered his sword to the floor, his palm still clasped over it as he made his decision to stay.
You managed to get him to kneel, although he positioned himself with one foot on the ground. Knee bent as though he was preparing to flee the scene the moment this became too much.
“So you’re only here because of your friend?” You posed the question to him in an attempt to break the ice, though it was more than obvious to be true.
The hunched shoulders and flushed cheeks made it wholly apparent that this wasn’t one of his usual haunts. And that the Hashira felt extremely out of place—
Awkward.
“He seems to think I’m wound too tight,” Sanemi grunted, eyes focused on the way you languidly disrobed.
If he had the confidence he’d reach across the room and pull the haori down your shoulders himself, telling you to hurry up. He’d never witnessed someone take so long to disrobe, although he supposed this was some sort of show you were supposed to put on for the drunken men who frequented the establishment. So he held back, watching as the fabric finally pooled around you.
“So he brought you here to let off some steam.” You smile, beginning to work on the buttons at the front of your kimono.
“And what say you?” He sneered, “What do you think?”
“I’d say your job is difficult,” You whispered, slowly pulling back the front of your kimono to expose your naked breasts to his prying gaze.
Sanemi didn’t say anything, but you noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. Nostrils flaring as he exhaled softly as the fabric fell around you to join your haori.
“It’s no wonder you have so much rage inside.” You continue, hands delicate in your lap as you allow him to look at you, “It’s okay to let it out. To release some tension—”
You were right, Sanemi supposed. Although since being inside this building he somehow felt worse— the tension continuing to build inside his abdomen as his pelvis tightened uncomfortably, his heavy cock throbbing with desire as it pressed against the front of his uniform. Shifting his thighs as he tried to give himself some slight relief from the incessant throb, as you did little to satiate it when you began to tease your naked breasts.
“Are you a virgin, Shinazugawa-sama?” You asked, although you were certain you already knew the answer.
“What’s it to you?” He mocked, “You’re just a common whore ready to spread her legs. It’s your job—”
“I’m sorry, my Lord.” You smile softly, finding no malice in his words. It was clear he was trying to deflect your question, as though the answer burned him to say, “I was certain you wanted to talk.”
You were worried you may have pushed him too much, that he would turn and flee the room and leave you naked and alone. Or worse— attack.
You’d had it happen before. Men who would enter the building of their own free will, before turning on you at the last moment. Hands wound tight around your neck as they blamed you for cheating on their wives, for making them do this. And it wasn’t just the men who had nothing else to lose; the ones that would spend their final gold on a night with a woman. These were respected members of society— samurai, business owners, and demon slayers. And perhaps that’s why every other woman had cowered in fear when the Wind Pillar had stepped through the door, because they expected nothing less from the ruthless Hashira.
But he looked vulnerable.
“If you don’t want to talk,” You continued to pull back the fabric of your kimono to expose your naked frame to his lilac eyes, the material cascaded down your body and onto the floor as you allowed him to drink in the sight of you. His eyes roamed your naked skin as they followed a path along your sternum, between the valley of your breasts until they settled on your chubby mound, “I’m certain there are other things we could do that would please you.”
Sanemi’s throat seized as he watched your hands reach up to mould against your round breasts, the skin dipping beneath your touch as you let out a soft, satisfied gasp. A sound that sent jolts of electricity surging through his veins. Enough to have his hands balling into tight fists that settled on top of his thighs as blunt nails dug into his palms, focused on the way your nipples hardened as you pinched and rolled them between your thumb and forefinger.
“You can touch me, you know,” You murmured, “I don’t mind.”
Sanemi swallowed thickly at the invitation. It was why he was here, after all. But somehow it felt daunting to reach out and close the gap, unsure where he should even start with you as he stayed stoic across the room.
You chanced scooting towards him across the wooden floor, settling yourself in front of him as you reached out to grasp one of his tightly closed fists. Gently prying his fingers open as he allowed you to contort his hand, splaying his fingers as you laced your fingers through his own, threading them together as your warmth engulfed him.
The action felt too intimate, which felt peculiar to say when he was sat opposite a half-naked stranger. And yet, he found himself not wanting to pull away. He leaned into your touch, his palm squeezing yours as you took it for reassurance, a soft smile on your face as he found himself beginning to relax.
“It’s okay,” You cooed, “We can just sit like this if you’d prefer.”
You were delighted when you felt the tense muscles in his hand begin to relax as his clenched jaw softened.
“Or we can tell your friend we did everything you wanted,” You continue with a laugh, “And that way it wouldn’t be a lie.”
And Sanemi wished he could put all his wants into words. The thoughts that now ran rampant through his mind as he breathed in the candied scent of you, feeling you lean closer to pepper gentle kisses to the side of his jaw. Tickling his skin against the growing stubble that left a shadow as you moved forward to place your hand flat against his muscular thigh.
“There wouldn’t be a need to lie.” Sanemi’s voice was rough like gravel as he tried desperately to wet his tongue, the roof of his mouth giving no appeasement as his Adam’s apple bobbed thickly.
“Oh?” You murmured, feeling no hint of him pulling away as you leaned back to face him. Your breath fanning his skin as you looked at him through thick, long lashes. Sultry eyes flickering towards his chapped lips before returning his gaze, “So what would you like us to tell him?”
“W-what?” Sanemi stuttered, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic.
“What is it you’d like to tell him?” You smiled softly, your hand slipping higher along his thigh, “What stories do you want to return with?”
And now Sanemi was certain this was the closest he’d come to death.
“Maybe I can suck your cock?” The words almost had him falling apart as he focused on every syllable, unused to someone speaking to him with such candour.
“Uh- yeah.” He felt the embarrassment begin to bloom inside him at his pathetic response as his eyes bore into your own.
You managed to get him on his back, chest heaving as you began to unfasten the belt around his hips. Watching the way his gut clenched in anticipation as you palmed him softly through the rough fabric, causing his hips to buck as he cursed beneath his breath.
“You feel big, Shinazugawa-sama.”
“Call me Sanemi.” He barked back gruffly, wanting to hear the sweet sound of his name leave your lips instead.
“Of course, Sanemi.” You cooed. Never making it to the futon as you straddled his thighs where he lay on the hardwood floor. Shrugging off the rest of your kimono to leave your body completely bare above him as he had to try to remember to breathe.
It was difficult to think when he noticed just how close your bare cunt was to his crotch, certain he could feel the warmth radiating from it against his thigh as you began to tug his pants down. Enough to free his aching cock as it drooped hard and heavy against his pelvis, long enough to follow the curve of his hip as the uncut tip leaked pearlescent beads of pre. Your stomach swirled at the sight of him, what he lacked in size he made up for in sheer girth. Thick, bulging veins forking along his girth as you imagined how he would feel buried inside you, the stretch as he fucked to into the shape of him. The thoughts had your neglected cunt throbbing around nothing as you felt warm slick begin to pool between your thighs.
“I was right— you are big.” You noted, wrapping a slender hand around him at the base as his hips jerked in surprise. Biting back a sharp hiss from between clenched teeth at the sensation as his palms instantly balled into fists at his sides.
“Is that what you say to every man that passes through here?” Sanemi spat, but he secretly hoped this wasn’t the case. He was filled with the incessant desire to impress you, to have you fawning over him. Even though none of this was real.
“No, actually,” You smiled, “I think it might actually hurt if you fuck me.”
Sanemi’s cock kicked with your blase tone, certain he was about to come undone from your words alone. But as if that weren’t enough, he felt himself choking back a grunt when you leaned down to press a lingering kiss to his leaking tip. Licking your lips to taste his pre as you stared up at him from under thick lashes, “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”
Sanemi almost snorted at this. As though he wouldn’t be able to overpower you and push you off in an instant, you wouldn’t stand a chance—
“Oh, fuckin’ shit—” All conscious thoughts were ripped away from him the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock. Catching you by surprise as his hips jerked roughly, forcing more of his length inside your wet mouth as the heady tip of his cock pressed against the back of your throat. The sudden motion caused you to gag as you pulled back to cough and splutter, and Sanemi felt downright depraved when he throbbed at the sight of you. Strings of spit mixed with his pre connected him to your mouth as he groaned, noticing the fat tears that now clumped in your lashes as he tried to remember to breathe, “I’m sorry, I’m—”
“It’s okay,” You brushed him off with a smile, your warm palms stroked softly against his hairy thighs as he tried to calm his body down, “I actually liked it.”
You liked it? Gods, you were certain to be the death of him.
You took him into your mouth again as he fought back the urge to cant his hips forward, growling when your tongue began to trace the bulging veins along his length. Hollowing your cheeks as you began to gently bob your head along him as the hand wrapped around his base began to massage his heavy balls.
It was no wonder Uzui always seemed particularly cheery if this was what he got to experience at home. Sanemi’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he clenched them shut, positive that one look at you with your lips wrapped around him would have him coming undone in an instant.
“You can hold my head, show me what you like.” You murmured against the tip of his cock as you pulled back for air before swallowing him again. Coaxing him to touch you, to move you how he’d like to be treated, and Sanmei wondered why he should even bother when this already felt like heaven.
The whiny, desperate whine that vibrated around his cock the moment he held the back of your head in a large palm was his answer. Your throat instantly tightened around him as he swallowed back another debauched moan, tightening his grip as he began to help you bob your head along his cock. Careful not to hurt you as he pushed you down so the tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat with each downward motion, something that had him leaking even more pre as the salty taste dampened your tongue.
Sanemi could already feel his balls tightening in anticipation, your movements sending him closer to bliss as he used your mouth for his own pleasure.
There’s something about being the only person to see Shinazugawa Sanemi like this. A strong, powerful man who strikes fear into the hearts of many brought to his knees as you tower over him.
His cheeks blaze fiery red as the bloom spreads to the tips of his ears as you wrap his cock into a gentle fist, squeezing the base as he tries to stop his hips from canting forward pathetically. The noise that spills from his lips is more akin to an injured animal as he tries to stop himself from spilling his release so easily. But this is exactly what you do to him, the only person that can make him feel this way.
“Do something.” His tone is cold and brash, but there’s no real malice behind it as you have him as close to begging as you can.
Your fingers slip lower from his balls as you run your thumb along his taint, dipping into the sensitive skin as you have Sanemi’s hips bucking wildly as he catches you completely off guard as he cums with a depraved snarl. Hot, sticky ropes of cum spurt from his pulsing cock as you catch them in your mouth, coating your throat in his potent seed as his chest heaves from the intensity. His hand remains rough at the back of your head as he forgets his hold on you, keeping you pinned on his cock as he fills you with his release.
It’s only when you splutter that Sanemi realises his hold on you, pulling away as though he’s been burned as his lilac eyes stare down at you with worry. Watching you quiver as you cough and splutter again, as he sits up in an instant to cup your neck and assess if you’re okay.
“Shit, I’m sorry—” He rasps, his cock still half-hard and doused in your spit as it hangs between you. “I didn’t mean to— are you okay?”
And for the first time, it feels as though he’s let his walls down. The worry in his tone, paired with his wide eyes show you the concern that you hadn’t expected from the harsh Wind Pillar when he’d first entered the room, and yet here he was offering you more kindness and compassion than a lot of your previous visitors.
Your throat burns, but you answer him by parting your lips and lolling your tongue out so he can see that you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he’d given you. An action that already has his cock stirring for more attention as Sanemi bites back the harsh groan that threatens to rumble deep in his chest at the sight of you.
You really had no idea that you’d be the complete undoing of him, he supposed as he allowed his thumb to brush against your soft cheek. Smiling when you leaned into his touch, still settled between his thighs.
He decided at that moment he’d quite like to kiss you. Uncertain if that was even something people did in these establishments, whether you’d even allow him to. Wondering if you’d ever wanted to kiss any of the men you’d spent time with working here, whether you’d even want to kiss him. Remembering that this was probably nothing more than a job to you, another way to pay off your debts and get yourself out.
He’d get you out if he could. Spare you from all the disgusting, rowdy creeps that you have to deal with daily and protect you from the horrors of this world.
“Are you okay?” You tilted your head to the side as Sanemi was brought back from his thoughts.
“Weren’t you gonna show me how to please a woman?” He ignored your question as his chapped lips brushed against the curve of your jaw.
“Oh,” Your cheeks flushed with a delicate flourish as warmth bloomed across your skin, “Oh, yeah.”
You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you’d even be able to handle his touch on your skin. Your cunt already throbbing wanton and desperate with need as your slick began to soak your inner thighs, positive no one else had made you feel like this before.
Reaching out to wrap your smaller palm around his wrist as he allowed you to move it how you pleased, lifting it to move it to settle against one of your soft breasts.
“Oh,” You heaved a sigh as your fingers stayed wrapped around his wrist as Sanemi began to clench his fingers, barely a squeeze as though he was worried about hurting you as you coaxed him for more, “That feels good.”
The words seemed to encourage him as he began to massage the soft skin, calloused fingers grazing against your sensitive nipples that had you crying out for him. Pleased when he took the initiative to give your other breast the same attention, your cheeks flushed as he stared shamelessly at your exposed skin.
Reaching down you circled a hand around his thick wrist, raising his hand as you placed his calloused palm against your warm breast. Thick lashes fluttered on impact as you looked down at the way he encompassed it, fingers barely flexing as he noticed the way his hand circled it. You ground your hips against him, his semi-hard cock poking into the swell of your ass as you remained seated on his abdomen. The motion pressed you harder against his hand as he began to clench his fingers, squeezing the supple skin as a breathy whine escaped your lips.
Sanemi hadn’t seen many breasts, but he was certain that you were the prettiest by far. Gaining more confidence as he started to squeeze at the soft skin, his thumb grazing over one of your hardening nipples as it stiffened to a taut peak. Biting down on glossy lips you watched him focused and intent, giving the same attention to the other side as he began to palm them both.
Sanemi inhaled softly when your fingers began to busy themselves with the fastenings of his shirt, spreading what little was left to push it off his shoulders along with his haori. Your eyes trailed over each raised scar that marred his perfect skin, fingertips delicately brushing over each line of rough skin and puckered flesh. Giving the same amount of attention to each one, knowing that they all held their own story. Spending slightly longer on the long ones that crossed against the front of his chest, dangerously close to his heart as your palm stopped against his sternum to feel his heart hammering against his chest.
Sanemi had never found his scars repulsive, but for some reason beneath your gaze, he felt self-conscious. Worried that you may find him hideous and cower away from him like most others did. Others, whose opinions he didn’t care about, but yours?
“I know they appear ugly.”
“They’re not ugly,” You hum softly, “I’m just sorry you had to go through the pain to receive them.”
Some scars run deeper, ones that don’t mark and marr his skin. The ones that permeate through to his heart, twisting and contorting as they sear into him hotter than any flame. Demons that keep him awake at night as he’s forced to relive the moments he’s received them, times that he’s faced certain death— and perhaps he deserved it. The pain of receiving them was often forgotten by Sanemi. The hurt and damage from each scar would never equate to the feeling of seeing his loved ones slain, from losing his family.
“But each one tells a story,” You continued, smiling softly. Fingertips stroking over the raised scars there, following the damaged skin as you mapped out every curve and ridge. “Each one holds a reason as to why you’re still here.”
Sanemi had never had someone touch him like this before, he’d never been handled with such care. It was at that moment that Sanemi decided he didn’t want you with anyone else, that you were his and only his.
“We all have scars, but some we try to hide more than others.” You hummed.
Fuck it. He thought as he reached around your neck to pull you into a fierce kiss, catching you off guard. His teeth clashed against your soft lips as he fought to deepen in, inexperience shining through his actions as his nose bumped yours roughly. His movements were sloppy and unpractised as he was far too chaste; too eager. Your lips follow along with his to try and guide him, your tongue teasingly laps at the corner of his lips and he does little to stop you. Trying to anticipate your movements as his lips fall open, granting you entrance as you smile against him.
Your fingers splay against his jaw, holding him steady to help slow him down. Moving your lips with purpose as your tongue brushed past his parted ones, delving into his mouth as you swallowed the moans that vibrated at the back of Sanemi’s throat. Tilting your head to deepen the kiss as you felt his arms encircle you to pull you closer, tightening his grip on you as if no matter how close you were it would never be enough.
His still half-hard cock is trapped between your bodies as you shamelessly roll your hips, pressing your lower half against it for some sweet relief as your cunt virtually burned with neglect. You’d never felt so on edge as you were tempted to reach down and press two fingers to your puffy clit to give yourself some respite. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by the perceptive Hashira who broke the kiss to stare between your bodies.
Sanemi’s fingers were warm as they brushed through your messy folds, hiding your face in his neck as you felt his knuckle graze your clit. A whiny, breathless sigh warmed his skin when he felt your tight hole begin to catch against the calloused pad of his finger.
How were you this fucking wet already and he’d barely touched you? Was this all for him?
“Please,” You murmured. Sanemi felt you roll your hips against his hand, as though you were trying to drop yourself down on his finger, eager for stimulation. Granting your wish as he slipped a solo finger inside you, baulking when he felt how warm, wet and tight you were.
Sanemi wasn’t foolish, he knew about sex. But he just had no idea that this is what you looked like down there, what you felt like. How was he supposed to fit his cock inside here when you were this tight? Surely he’d split you in two.
The moan that left your lips was debauched, and the sound surged directly to his cock. Swallowing thickly as he pressed forward again, letting the calloused pad of his finger press against your velvety walls. Trying to draw another noise like that from your throat.
Sanemi was gentle and precise compared to the other men that frequented the establishment, so used to your pleasure being unimportant as they were quick to push into you with little care or decency. Fulfilling their own needs and leaving you a crumpled, fragile mess after with comments on how thankful you should be that they were helping to pay off your debt. Glad that most men that you encountered seemed to only want comfort, a warm body to lay beside so they could fool themselves for a moment that they mattered to someone.
“Is this okay?” His voice was laced with uncertainty, his finger plunging into your tight sex as he grazed your ridged walls.
“Curl it,” You murmured, breaking off into a high-pitched gasp when he brushed against the sensitive spot inside you. Your reaction was an indication he’d found what he’d been searching for as he focused his movements against it. Deft and precise as Sanemi began to pump the lone finger in and out of you, lilac eyes focused on the way your face contorted in pleasure.
“Yeah?” He hummed in satisfaction, “You like that?”
Your cunt clenched around him in response, biting down on your bottom lip as you found yourself rolling your hips in tandem with him, moving one of your hands from his shoulders to slip between your bodies to join his as you pressed slow, precise circles against your needy clit.
“What are you doing?” His voice turned to a deep snarl, brows furrowed as he watched you touch yourself in front of him.
“Touching my clit.” You gasped as he knocked your hand away roughly, moving his thumb to press blindly against your slit to replace it.
“I’ll do it,” He growled, the authoritative lilt to his tone had you trembling as he made rough strokes in an attempt to find your sensitive nub, “There?”
He questioned as he rubbed the junction of your labia, pressing against your folds as you tried to lift your hips to position his hand.
“No,” You murmured, holding his wrist before moving your slender fingers towards his thumb to press the pad of it flat against your clit. Whining on contact as his touch felt instantly better than your own, “Here— can you feel it?”
“Yeah,” Sanemi released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in as he began to press tough, persistent circles against it while curling his finger inside you.
“Add another finger, please?” You begged, moving your hands back to his broad shoulders to support yourself as you continued to match his movements.
“Yeah?” He murmured, pressing both fingers against the spongy spot inside you as he began to thrust them languidly, tilting his head back to stop you from shying away from his gaze as he watched your face morph into pleasure, “You like that?”
“So good,” You affirmed, feeling the coil inside you start to wind and tighten as Sanemi focused on your pleasure. Certain your cunt was drooling into his open palm as he followed your movements, pressing deeper each time you tried to roll your hips, “I’m close.”
“Then cum.” His voice commanded, his tone curt and domineering as you found yourself succumbing to the pleasure that threatened to spill over. Your cunt clenched desperately around his digits as you came with a choked gargle of his name, white spots blanking your vision as your entire body convulsed. Sanemi’s other hand splayed flat at the arch of your back to stop you from toppling backwards as he continued to press messy circles into your throbbing clit, prolonging the sensation, “Good girl.” The words had you throbbing as he helped you ride out your bliss.
“I—” You panted, at a loss for words as your nails dug into the delicate skin on his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped moons in their wake that Sanemi hoped would scar.
“God, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum.” Sanemi grunted, and you had to rip his hand away from your poor sex when the sensation became too much. Already feeling him forcing you towards another—
“You shouldn’t be so good at that, Shinazugawa-sama.” You groaned in satisfaction, pulling back as you noticed his cock practically leaking against his chest from the sight of you. Leaving silvery lines of pre against his skin as he sat hard and ready for you.
“What did I say to call me?” He rasped.
“Sanemi,” You breathed, and the Wind Pillar was certain he would never tire of hearing his name flow from your lips.
Was it normal to fall in love the first night with someone? With a courtesan no less. Sanemi wondered how many men had stepped through the doors of this house with the same question, returning to spend the night with a woman who was only interested in how deep their pockets were. But it somehow felt different with you— the look in your eyes made it feel like it was something more than just a transaction. And well, if it wasn’t Sanemi was positive he’d give every last penny he owned for one more night with you.
“It’s okay if you want to stop,” You smiled gently, hoping that he wouldn’t. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing as you yearned for him, wanting to feel him stretch you out in the most intoxicating way.
You were certain it was going to hurt judging from the sheer mass that was now resting between your thighs, thick and heady. Feeling the tip almost graze your belly button as you imagined just how deep he would be inside of you. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation as he began to stroke the fat tip of his cock between your messy folds. Feeling them part for him as he nudged against your sensitive clit, making you cry out for him as he repeated the motion.
“Why would I stop?” He bit back, “You’re getting paid aren’t you?”
He hated himself for the words that left his lips, the regret evident on his features the moment he’d uttered them. But it was what he did. Pushing people away before they got too close, before he let them in—
“I’m sorry,” He murmured apologetically, “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” You cut him off with a small smile, used to hearing far worse as you smoothed a hand through the light hairs that scarred against his chest, “Are you ready?”
And Sanemi was certain he’d never been more prepared for anything in his life, his palms still planted firmly against your hips as he watched you reach down to wrap your palm around his drooling cock.
Holding it upright as you leaned forward to adjust yourself so the building tip was pressed against your right entrance. His fingers were no match for the stretch of the engorged tip as you slowly began to coax him inside. The first inch was painful, a delicious ache swirling in your abdomen as you tried to relax. Inhaling deeply as you gave an experimental roll of your hips, forcing another inch inside as you began to feel the stretch. The protruding veins that forked along his girth did nothing to ease the tension as you could practically feel them throb against your inner walls as you sank lower onto him.
Sanemi wasn’t fairing much better, his pupils blown as he was certain he could see every shade of colour. His grip against your hips bruising now as he tried to think of anything but the sensation of your cunt wrapped around him for the first time. He was barely halfway inside, and now he was positive he wouldn’t last by the time you made it to the base— his balls already drawn up and heavy as he imagined emptying his seed into your ripe cunt.
You were so fucking warm, and drenched. It was making it difficult to think as your slick left creamy rings around the girth of his cock, drooling down to his balls as you soaked his skin. Sanemi found himself becoming lightheaded, blindly pawing for your waist to centre himself. The back of his head knocked against the wooden floor as he readjusted his hips, giving you a few more inches as you moaned at the sensation. Catching yourself with soft palms against his chest as you rolled down into his touch, his stiff cock almost wholly inside you as you felt the messy hairs that sat at his base tickle your clit.
You still for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. But it feels like a moment too long for Sanemi, a moment that drives him closer to the desperate release his body already craves. His hefty balls are already tight and pulsing as they threaten to spill into your eager hole.
It’s as though you notice when you start to roll your hips above him. But Sanemi reckons this is worse— your tits sway with your alluring movement, the cool air in the room hits his cock when you rise your hips to pull off him before seating yourself back down and he’s certain you’ll be the death of him. That Uzui will find the shattered remains of his body in this very room as he dies buried deep inside your molten cunt. How had he managed to continue life for so long without feeling this? It’s now the only pleasure he ever wants to indulge in as he watches you intently through blown eyes.
“Are you okay?” You hum with a teasing swirl of your hips and Sanemi has to wet his lips to reply. His tongue rolls over white teeth before clearing his throat, a heavy rumble in his chest as calloused fingers dip into the fat at your hips.
“‘m fine,” It’s all he can muster. Certain if he says more it’ll be over, and Sanemi doesn’t want this to be over, “Fuckin’ tight.”
“You feel so good,” You offer in return, “Stretching me so much—”
And Sanemi isn’t sure he even wants to hear it. Uncertain whether it’s because you have his cock pulsing from your sultry tone that leaves him shaking on the crux of his climax, or that he thinks you’re lying. Another deceitful line you give to all your paying customers.
“Shinazugawa-sama.” You breathe and Sanemi feels his Adam’s apple throb in his throat.
“Sanemi,” He growls, low and domineering, “I said call me Sanemi.”
“Sanemi.” You parrot, and the sound of it has his hips jerking sloppily as he fucks up into you, his name now sounded from your lips like a dull mantra, “Sanemi.”
Your hands are splayed across his chest as you try to keep your movements consistent, hips rolling against him as you ride his cock. Trying to commit the sight to memory as your eyes follow every line and scar that settles across his skin, soft fingertips following them as you ride him. An indication of just how powerful the man beneath you is, the man you’ve brought to his knees.
“Oh, fuck.” You sound out, and Sanemi thinks it’s cute the sound of such a vulgar word spilling from your sweet lips.
And Sanemi wants to make you make more sounds like that, to pull every one from your pretty throat and commit each one to memory. Remembering every saccharine lilt and coo as though he’s conducting his own debauched symphony. Sounds that will comfort him when he thinks of you, of this. He moves his hand from your hip, pressing a thumb against your pelvis before dipping lower. Stroking his digits through your messy slit, and when he touches your clit your body convulses. Hips bucking so wildly on contact his eyes are wide as though he’s done something wrong. Taking his hand to press his fingers back against it as you coax him into touching you there again.
Hunching over him as you try to keep your pace, your movements borderline pathetic as you chase the pleasure of his calloused thumb against your sensitive bud. His eyes watch you curiously as he speeds up the sloppy figure of eights he presses into it, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him in response.
“This is supposed to be for you.” You choke out, unused to your clients even thinking about your pleasure.
“Who says it’s not?” Sanemi scoffs; the sight of you like this is worth every damn penny Uzui is paying, “I want you to come undone for me.”
The dominant, commanding husk to his voice has your pelvis contorting as your body wills itself to unravel on command. Barely able to cry out his name as you find your release, your silky walls clamp down around his cock as they desperately try to milk him of his release. Your nails dig into muscular pectorals as you try to keep yourself upright, to hold onto the single thread of sanity you have left.
But Sanemi’s thumb doesn’t stop against your clit, following your jerky movements as your hips coil and spasm. Keeping his touch firm and persistent as he helps you ride out one climax to have you soaring towards another.
It’s too much, and you’re not sure you can handle it as your hands slip down to wrap around his wrist. Feebly trying to pull his grip away from your sloppy cunt as you watch the muscles in his arm tighten, veins popping out proudly as they fork towards his wrist. Practically snarling as he easily fights your weaker grip, “Don’t.”
And once again he throws you into ecstasy, your body trembling as another intense orgasm surges through your veins. Soaking his cock with your essence as you feel how wet and sloppy you are between your thighs, any friction dissipating as it’s all you can do but pathetically grind yourself against his finger while you ride out your bliss.
“Sanemi,” You whine, unable to hold yourself upright as you feel yourself falling forward onto his chest. Your face nuzzled into the junction of his neck as you trap his muscular arm between your bodies, his thumb still at your overstimulated clit as he gives it a few more lingering swipes, “S’too much.”
And Sanemi has to agree. It’s far too much, but also not enough at the same time. His cock throbs at the feeling of your drenched walls soaking him, fluttering in the aftershocks of your release as he’s certain he’s on the cusp of his own end. Slipping his arm from between your bodies in ease in favour of wrapping both arms around you, pinning you against his chest as he bends both his legs at the knee. Planting his feet on the hardwood floor for stability as he holds you against him.
He catches you by surprise as he begins to thrust up into you. His movements are chaotic and messy, with a deep-set sense of urgency as he chases his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixes with the syrupy wetness of your cunt that has your cheeks burning fiery red as you pant and whine against his neck. Mouthing at the thin layer of sweat that sticks to his skin, the salty taste of it mitigating on your tongue as you let him use you for his pleasure.
“Fuck, Sanemi.” Your voice sings out against the column of his throat and his hips give one more rugged jolt as he buries himself inside you to the hilt and coats your inner walls with balmy spurts of cum. The sensation causes heat to plume inside you as you indulge in the sensation as he gives a few more careless thrusts like he’s unable to stop his hips from jerking as he gives you everything he’s got left to give.
Sanemi’s eyes are blown wide, staring up at the ceiling as you move with the rise and fall of his chest. His arms still wound so tightly around you that you’re unable to move, left to bask in the warm afterglow as you cling to him. One of your hands braced against his sternum, feeling for the cadence of his racing heart.
“Are you okay?” You murmur softly when he hasn’t spoken for a while, and you’re met with a delicate kiss to your temple as he tightens his grip.
You’re certain you lay there for hours after, his warmth engulfing you as he traces gentle patterns against the expanse of your back while your fingers cord through his messy hair. Nails grazing against his skin while you feel the pleasure rumble deep in his chest, eyes heavy as sleep threatens to consume you. You shift above him slightly and whine pathetically as you feel his soft cock finally slip from your sloppy hole, the wetness unable to maintain a grip on him as you shudder at the cold air in the room cooling your molten cunt. His thick, potent seed begins to drip from your cunt into thick puddles on his pelvis and onto the floor as his arms tighten possessively around you for the smallest hint of a moment. As though he’d tricked himself into thinking that you were actually his, before realising his foolish mistake.
“I should go.” His voice rumbles, firm and authoritative. A sound that has you moving off him, despite your body’s plea to stay like this just a while longer.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Shinazugawa-sama.” You respond, watching as he begins to redress himself. Tucking his cock, still glazed with your drying slick, back into his pants.
You’d hoped he would correct you a final time. Telling you to call him by name as he buttoned the first few buttons of his shirt before tugging his haori back on, but the words don’t come.
You wonder whether it’s because he’s unsure what to say, lingering by the door as though he wants to turn back to give you a proper goodbye. Reaching down to grab your kimono to pull it back over your shoulders.
“Thank you.” He whispers before tugging at the door.
You were hoping it would feel a little less transactional, even though you were certain that this was all it was to him. A coldness now resides in the room that you’re certain you’d never felt before, an uncertain frost that bites away at the fierce burn of your heart. You have to remind yourself of the reason why you’re here, the reason why the Wind Hashira had chosen to lay with you.
The next morning you were surprised to find out just how much Sanemi had left behind that evening. Certain the payment was more than enough to settle your debts and free you from this existence, as you felt the fog of uncertainty that shrouded your time here begin to clear.
You’d hoped that he would’ve left some way to thank him, a forwarding address or at least a note to accompany the payment. But what you didn’t expect was for the Wind Pillar to be waiting at the dark purple curtains for you as you came down the stairs.
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Emergency contact
word count; 1047 – f!reader
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“I don’t mean to be rude but, why are you here?” Semi asked you, one hand clutching his head and the other rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t quite believe his eyes right now.
“I could ask you the same thing. Apparently, I’m your emergency contact.”
The cogs were slowly turning in his head with the help of that single brain cell he always seemed to rely on. “Ohh... the drinking game.”
“You played a drinking game with emergency contacts? Do you know how serious that is?” you scolded him. That’s the y/n he remembered from high school. Diligent y/n, student president and his seemingly hopeless crush. Too different to hang out in high school, when everyone had their circles and stuck to them. He even dramatically told his friends you were the one that got away when there was liquor in his system, yet here you were. Back in his life as his emergency contact after he fell off stage.
When he went out for drinks with some old teammates from Shiratorizawa to catch up, they asked if he ever got your number before graduation. He proudly presented the contact like it was a treasure, which led to someone daring him to put you as his emergency contact. Crazy, right?
He ignored your concern, waving his hand in hopes you’d drop it. “Remind me what happened, please. Was it cool?”
“A light fixture fell on your thick head and then you fell off stage.”
He smiled sheepishly but held up a rock sign with his hand. “I’m a rockstar.” The small laugh under your breath made him happy, but happiness made his head hurt again so he winced instead. You carefully sat on the edge of the hospital bed.
“Why wouldn’t they call your parents?”
“I’m not in contact with them anymore.” A silence fell over you and you looked at him sympathetically, but still managed a small smile. He seemed to be getting tired again already, you couldn’t even imagine how much his head must hurt. The doctor said he was lucky it didn’t hit him harder, or with a sharp edge. No broken bones either, so he just had to stay until the concussion was under control.
“Because you’re a rockstar?” you whispered, making him smile again and nod. You hummed at his confirmation, watching as his eyes fell closed and he went back to sleep again.
He’s still so pretty, you thought. His hair was a bit messier and his face a bit more lived in but still the pretty setter you remember. Some sweet pick-up line would leave his lips every time he passed you back then, and you would frown and tell him to focus on school. You never figured out if he knew how flustered he made you. Surely, he must have known with that stupid smirk on his face.
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When Semi woke up again, he wondered if you had actually been there or if it was all some weird dream. He slowly opened his eyes, nervous to see who he heard shuffling around. Someone was there, but it wasn’t you, and his face fell along with his chest as he let out the breath he held in anticipation.
“Hello, love,” the older nurse said, coming over to check his reaction time and other standard things. Semi let her, not really conversing while she checked him. Maybe she was never here…
He cleared his throat, looking up at the woman. “Was there a girl, uh sorry, a woman here earlier?”
“Right!” she said and Semi could swear he felt anticipation clutching onto his heart. “She had to make some calls so she’s in the cafeteria waiting for you. When you feel stable enough to get up, please have two painkillers with this glass of water and then you are free to leave as you wish.”
Semi smiled. He smiled so brightly like the nurse had told him she cured some terrible sickness. “Thank you,” he said, bowing as well as he could from where he lay in the hospital bed. After she left, he slowly started sitting up, clutching the edge of the bed to stabilise himself. You’re waiting for him.
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Semi walked into the cafeteria after signing out and getting a prescription for painkillers from the main desk. He had his concert clothes back on, looking around for a familiar face. And he found you, rigged up with your computer and notepad with a phone resting between your shoulder and ear. You were frowning while talking to someone on the phone and Semi shouldn’t think it’s so hot, but he did.
He walked over and sat across from you, leaning his chin on the top of the screen. You made eye contact and huffed, telling whoever was on the line that you would get back to them tomorrow. “Hey there, rockstar,” you cooed, leaning on your hand with your elbow resting on the table.
“You stayed,” was all he answered.
“Someone needs to drive you home,” you sighed. You leaned forward and held out your hand, planting your pointer finger under his chin. He was high on painkillers and could swear the two of you were about to kiss despite not seeing each other for years, but then you just flicked his chin up a bit to close the computer. “Let’s go, pretty boy.”
If Semi liked you before, this new confidence you grew into had him on his knees. Not literally, but he was watching your every move as you packed up your stuff and finally stood up. Semi got up with you, quickly reaching out and grabbing the strap of your bag so he could hoist it up on his shoulder with a cheeky smile. There was still a low beat playing in his head from the earlier headache, but he did his best to ignore it. You huffed and turned around, leading him to the car while repeating everything the nurse told him to remember earlier while he just pretended to listen. Again, you wondered if he knew you were flustered.
Surely, he knew with a smirk like that. Maybe you should make sure he gets safely into his apartment and then kiss the stupid smirk off his face. That sounds like a good plan.
masterlist
/for Semi-lover @cosmiicdust <3
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[Genshin Impact] Sitting on his lap
Note: Watch me disappear for a long time again after this update.
Warnings: some are a bit suggestive, still safe for work though. established relationship with Genshin man, please excuse and tell me if there are pronoun slips
Premise: You just felt like sitting on his lap, nothing much to it...or so you think.
Characters: Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, gn!reader
Alhaitham
Continues reading his book unfazed, one arm automatically coming securely round your waist. He shuts his book after a few seconds more and passes you an upward glance.
"Need something?"
You only hum in response with a shake of your head, indicating that you had only wanted to be close to him. He sits straighter, chest pressing closer to your back. You feel the warmth of his lips press on the left side of your neck, his head tilted to gain access to it.
There's a deep inhale as he takes in your scent and a relaxed exhale that follows. You hear him whisper, voice almost a tone lower and a rare expression of affection passes his lips.
"You're intoxicating, do you know that?"
Ayato
Chuckles as you plop yourself on his lap. He had been doing some paperwork, but he pushes those aside as he wraps both arms around your middle, moving closer as his head rests on your shoulder.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
The usual mischievous lilt in his voice doesn't disappear, he's amused that you've taken the initiative to come look for him, even though you knew he was in the middle of something. Before you could even reply, he beats you to it, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.
"Am I right to assume that you, perhaps, missed me?"
"...and what if I did?" you counter with a smile of your own. Head turning sideways to look at him. He grins, one of his hands unravelling from your middle to travel up your face, landing on your cheek, pulling you closer to meet his soft lips.
The kiss starts off gentle, just yours on his. It starts to turn hungrier, still soft, but now it feels like hot lava is churning in your belly at the increasing intensity. He pulls away for a moment only to whisper "Then I'll have to do something about that,"
Baizhu
Looks up from his medicinal notes, taking a few seconds to gaze at your back.
The first thing you feel are his hands resting atop your shoulders, then his thumbs pressing small circles near the base of your neck. You let out a pleasurable moan, relaxing in his hold. Then, as if realizing what you'd done, your hand darts atop your mouth to hide a small laugh.
You could hear Baizhu chuckling alongside with you.
"No need to hold back, darling," his thumbs continue to press circles, now downwards along your spine, continuing his massage.
"Mmmmm..." you try to stifle the next moan coming, "This could so easily be misinterpreted by anyone passing by outside," the two of you share a short laugh yet again.
"Either way, all I'm doing is giving you some love, darling,"
Cyno
He blinks as he feels you sit on him. He was always uncomfortable with the initial position, and so what he usually did was pull you and your legs up, positioning you sideways over his lap, legs somewhat dangling over the armchair. One strong arm wrapped around your back, steadying you and allowing you to lean towards him, tucking your head under his chin.
"Is something the matter?"
You shake your head and offer a simple reply. "Nothing at all, I just wanted to be close to you,"
Your honesty always managed to tug at the edge of his lips the slightest bit. In opportunities like this Cyno didn't say much, instead he liked to savour your warmth melding with his, liked to feel your breathing in sync with his.
He silently presses a kiss atop your head before closing his eyes, and staying that way for a moment longer.
Diluc
Instead of you melting into his embrace it's Diluc who melts around you. The moment you sit on his lap his arms encircle you around your shoulders and pulls you flush against him, your back to his front.
From his position, he nuzzles into your neck and sighs, his hot breath tickling your skin. He closes his eyes and shields himself from the world for a moment, basking in the safety and love emanating from you.
"Hard day?" You ask him and he mumbles something into your neck, incoherent. He repeats it as he pulls away a slight inch.
"Not more than usual," he squeezes you around the shoulders as he says so. "and you?"
You reach a hand up to sift through his hair, he sighs at the feeling and nearly melts into a puddle. "Nothing out of the ordinary," you return his sentiment.
You play with his hair as he holds you close, and in that moment there really isn't much for him to say, though his heart bursts with emotion and fondness towards you.
"Stay with me, Y/N," he makes this request from time to time, and though the two of you have already sworn yourselves to each other, perhaps he needed to say it once in a while in order to hear the answer from you.
"I'll always be here, Diluc,"
Itto
The oni is rather cluless in certain aspects of life, but when you sit on his lap he's guaranteed to be flustered. You prop yourself on his thighs, hands positioned on his legs to keep you from falling in case he made any sudden movements.
"Y-Y-Y/N?!"
"Hm?" You innocently ask, tipping your head back to playfully look at his reddening cheeks. "...Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" you ask, a laugh threatening to escape your lips because of the look on his face.
"I-Well-*ahem* Sure I am!" He puts on a brave face, but he looks like he's also sweating bullets. His hands are stiffly by his side, and he's hesitant to touch you anywhere.
You decide to comfortably lean back and Itto could not think of anything except how warm and soft you were compared to him. He had to get it together, this happened every time you sat on his lap, and it was becoming uncool for him to keep blushing when you did so. He promised himself that he would "man up".
...He still had the same reaction the next time you did it.
Kaeya
Kaeya reacts as if this was an every day thing, in fact this was always a good opportunity to flirt with you.
"Found your favourite spot have you?" Kaeya twists around to peer at you, grin plastered on his face, hand finding your thigh.
"It was tempting, you were just sitting there and it looked like a good place to rest," You returned his grin and felt his chest rumble with laughter.
"You're always welcome, snowflake," his hand squeezes your thigh, eye seemingly glinting with mischief. He shifts around on his seat, making space in between his legs and pulling you right between them, arms tight around your waist, front pressing against your back. "But you'll have to pay a small fee for this exclusive seat, I'm afraid,"
He tilts his head down to gaze at you expectantly, seemingly leaning closer. You smile, tilting your head up for you lips to meet. Kaeya doesn't half ass his kisses. It turns passionate in a split second and his hands are starting to wander up and down your thigh.
"Tsk, tsk," you let out as you part, your noses still connected, gazes steady on each other. "Are you sure it's just a kiss you want, sir?"
He chuckles, "Love, when have we ever stopped at just a kiss?"
Lyney
"Hm?" Lyney chides with a smile as he feels you become comfortable on his lap. He laughs when he realizes that you were not planning on leaving anytime soon. "Hello there my rose," His arms wrap around your waist, and his head rests on your back, snuggling into the warmth of it. He looks almost like a cat purring and rubbing onto their favourite scratching post.
It tickles you the slightest bit, so you bristle with soft laughter. "Lyney!" You warn, and he returns your sunny laugh with a chuckle, but doesn't let go.
"What's wrong, love?" He feigns innocence but now has resorted to placing butterfly kisses up and down your spine, taking a moment to lightly nip at the back of your neck before kissing back down again in a line.
By now you know he's doing it on purpose, so you twist around on his lap, and give him a half-hearted glare. "If you wanted kisses all you had to do was ask,"
Lyney finally pulls back and smirks, that same smirk that shows up when he's at the climax of a magic trick, about to reveal the grandest part. He leans back on the chair he's sitting on, placing both arms on the rests before lifting a hand up, wrists flicking upwards in a motion to beckon you over. "Well come now," the same hand tilts your chin gently towards his direction as he whispers, tongue briefly grazing over his lips, "Let me show you a real magic trick,"
Neuvillette
Neuvillette embraces you in and it almost feels like you're floating on a cloud, weightlessly relaxing in the air. His clothes help to cushion you, but at the same time Neuvillette himself is as warm as a fireplace and comfy as a sea of feathers. It feels safe in the arms of the Chief Justice, as if no harm will come to you. Sometimes you forget that you're in the presence of such an important man.
You almost always end up sliding down the slightest bit, the back of your head resting on his chest, his arm secured around your stomach. "Would you like to retire for the day?" he asks, and this is his code to ask you if you would like for him to stop working and walk back home with you.
"No, don't mind me," you whisper, burrowing further into him. You hear him sigh contentedly. With you, Neuvillette is lovestruck. Whatever is within his power, he would do it for you. He takes your hand and briefly presses his lips on the back of it. "Alright," and just like that he brings the paperwork back into his hands. Reading his notes and documents--highly confidential, by the way. Something that you shouldn't be reading--but he trusts you more than he trusts himself and that was dangerous, for someone like him.
If there ever came a day where you broke his trust, Neuvillette would most likely never trust another soul again. You alone was his deity of truth.
Scaramouche...Ruthless Prince Scaramouche?
"Whadd'you think you're doing?" his eye twitches as you jump on his lap. You glance backwards at him before turning away once again. "Getting comfy," you reply nonchalantly.
"Getting com--" the rest of the words were mumbled, you didn't catch the whole thing but it did sound like he said a very garbled and muffled "my ass" at the end of it. You ignore him and happily stay, humming as you read a book while you're at it.
Scaramouche glares at your back, taking a deep, long breath. For a moment he contemplated on just letting you do it, but the other part of him wanted to just push you off and let your butt painfully land on the ground.
As you were peacefully reading, you suddenly feel his forehead bump your back, though he wasn't holding nor hugging you at all. He stayed like that for a bit, as if he was praying to some God he believed--or didn't believe--in. After a moment he grumbles something more, but now has a firm arm around your waist.
He repositions, opening his legs a bit more to give you more space to rest in between them and then leaning forward to lazily loll his head on your shoulder, looking at the book you were reading. "...What trash are you reading now?" but his tone of voice had levelled off to calm, nearly peaceful.
"...101 ways to annoy your husband," you secretly grin when you hear him scoff. His hand finds its way to the spine of the book you're reading and easily grabs and flings it off to the side.
"You do that plenty, you don't need more ideas," his hold on you gets a little tighter, as if he wasn't going to let you go anytime soon. "Y'know what I've been reading lately...?" you feel his lips against your neck in a chaste kiss but in the next moment you feel a slight nip that sends electricity down your whole being.
"Hm?" You ask absentmindedly, the question doesn't completely register in your mind, what with his hand edging closer to the hem of your shirt, brushing against the bare skin of your waist. He breathes the next words into your ear huskily, his hand sliding upwards, and you feel a shiver making its way to your shoulders.
"101 ways to make you scream,"
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DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ
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oh future husband, better love me right!
premise. the nhk is hosting another special broadcast featuring the popular fiancées of the jnt’s lineup! and this time, it’s truth or drink! ❤︎
content. haikyu!! jnt / f!reader. (koutarou bokuto, morisuke yaku, kiyoomi sakusa & tobio kageyama). fluff. downbad fiancés. suggestive jokes & allusions to sex. petnames. alcohol. overseas!kageyama & yaku (LDR). reader lives in japan (does not equal being japanese). a little angst.
notes. this part is… a little long! sit down for it ❤︎
soundtrack. dear future husband : meghan trainor.
part one can be read here.
dear future husband m.list // hq. masterlist.
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KOUTAROU BOKUTO.
“Been awhile since I last drank,” Bokuto cracks his knuckles upon seeing the many selections of beer he gets to choose, fingers twitching eagerly as they hover over the bottles. “Wonder what I should get…”
You sigh beside him jokingly, nudging his shoulder with your elbow, “We don’t have all day, Kou.”
“I’m just looking!” He chuckles, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
He randomly picks up a bottle of Sapporo, rotating it in his hands before nodding to himself, “This seems good!”
You place your hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the studio for a final run through before the broadcast, “Alright, Kou. Now let’s get this started!”
The NHK film crew do a final mic and sound check when you arrive as a staff member seats you both at the table in the centre of the studio, a pile of cards with questions written on them, two shot glasses and the Sapporo bottle your fiancé picked out lined on it’s top.
After fiddling with the microphones hidden inside your clothes, the crew give you two a thumbs up and rush back to their cameras to start the recording.
Bokuto’s entire body is turned towards the cameras, sitting on the edge of his seat as he eagerly greets the viewers, “Hey! I’m Koutarou Bokuto,” he catches your eyes with a bright smile, grabbing your hand from across the table, “And this is my fiancée!”
“And we’ve been together for three years now,” You finish for him, hands folded neatly on the table, the cameras pan to show off the engagment rings that sits prettily on both you and Bokuto’s fingers.
“Four months engaged.”
“And we’re playing truth or drink!” You and Bokuto announce happily together, smiling at each other before turning your bodies back to face the cameras. The film crew adjust their angles, moving their cameras off their stands to get better opening shots of you and your fiancé.
“You guys ready to play?” The head camera crew member asks, giving you the okay to start the game.
The studio lights illuminate the white backdropped room, enveloping your eyes in waves whenever you stare at the camera lenses for a little too long.
You and Bokuto nod as he shifts his gaze towards you, “Want me to go first, Baby?” He asks, already grabbing his shot glass and the bottle of Sapporo. You giggle, “So eager to get drunk, Kou?”
“I told you, it’s been awhile!” He beams, pouring out the alcohol carefully into his shot and grabbing the top card from the pile on the table.
“What do you like most about me?” he reads aloud, looking up at you curiously, “I’m pretty sure you’ve told me this exact answer before.”
“Have I?” you tilt your head in thought, thinking the question over, “I mean, probably. It has been three years, after all.”
Bokuto places the card face down on his side of the table, combing through his hair, “I think when we first started dating, you told me it was my hair.”
“It is nice,” you agree, causing Bokuto to start laughing and in turn making you giggle as well. The two of you are already giddy and snickering despite no alcohol being present in your systems yet, “But I think now that we’re engaged, I can give a more detailed answer.”
“Oh?”
He leans over the table excitedly, a wide grin plastered across his face, “Tell me, Baby! What do you like most about me?” His hand is still placed atop of yours, the perfectly cut gems in both of your rings twinkling in sync underneath the studio lights, perfectly complimenting you fiancé’s eyes.
You hum in faux thought for a moment before smirking, “Hmm, your muscles.”
Bokuto’s smile drops slightly to a pout, still keeping his bright composure while masking his lowered grin, “Awe, Baby I thought you were going to say something like, real deep and emotional!” He jests, “Like how you love that I make you smile, y’know?”
You throw your head back in laughter, nudging his shoulder with your free hand, “I’m kidding, Kou!” Your smile is genuine when you see how disappointed he was at first at your reply, looking straight into his eyes as a way reassure him.
“Yes, Kou. What I like most is that you make me the happiest every day I’m with you.”
His smile brightens significantly, a chuckle of his own escaping his lips as he leans back into his chair, “Damn, played by my own girl.”
He slides the pile of cards over to you with a mischievous smirk, “Not that I’m complaining.”
You take the top card off the pile and read it over, fingers twirling the empty shot glass in your hands. Your lips purse as you try to contain the giggles making their way up your throat while reading the question on the card, hands quivering in silent laughter.
“Have you ever wanted to fuck one of our friends while with me?” Bokuto’s eyes seem to pop out of his head at the vast difference and shift in questions, turning to the NHK staff while laughing, “Are you sure this is okay to broadcast?”
The film crew nod, to which Bokuto shrugs, “Alright, then,” before turning back to you. “Uhh, can I just like- take a shot right now?”
“You’d rather drink than not tell me?” You joke, pouring out the Sapporo for your fiancé, “Damn, Kou. Do I not satisfy you enough?”
“Of course you do!” He corrects himself hastily, “It’s just, uh..” he leans in closer to you whisper in your ear quietly, “I don’t want to say Atsumu on national T.V...”
Your hand flies to your mouth in shock, shoulders shaking as you try to contain your cackles, “Atsumu?” you repeat in a hushed tone, making sure you heard him correctly. “Him?”
“He’s got nice hair!”
You both start to laugh at how hair seems to be a common appealing trait you notice in people. Shaking your head in mock disappointment, you shove the stack of questions back over to your fiancé’s side for his turn.
“What is the most embarrassing thing you caught me doing when I thought I was alone?” Bokuto asks, reading from the card he picked off the top of the pile and glancing back up at you.
You hum in thought for a moment, pondering the question.
“Uhm, I think that time you were rehearsing your Valentines day speech to me before we went out to eat at that restaurant a few years ago,” you reveal cautiously, “but you were using a pillow with a photo of my face taped on it as a stand-in.”
Bokuto’s jaw drops at the revelation, nearly falling out of his chair from the shock of what you just divulged to him, “You were there? Watching me do that?”
You have to practically fight the cackle bubbling it’s way up your throat, a smile creeping onto your face when you answer, “Yes, Kou. But it was sweet, so I didn’t mention it to you.”
“You kept that a secret for two years?” He asks again, and you nod.
Your fiancé’s face remains stunned for a few more moments before breaking out into a smile of his own, hand running down his face while laughing to himself. “Damn, I must’ve looked so dumb.”
“I thought it was cute!” You attempt to salvage things, giggling as you pick up the next question card, this time it’s for Bokuto.
“What part of wedding planning is the most challenging part for you?”
“The money…” He pouts, taking the card from you to read it over again before turning to the cameras.
“Weddings are so damn expensive— Did you know wedding flowers can cost up to two million yen?” He exclaims in shock, “For flowers!”
You sigh, plucking the question card from his hand and setting aside on his pile with a smile, “This is why you should leave the financial decisions to me, Kou. Our floral arrangements will not be that expensive, I can assure you.”
“Of course, Baby,” he grins, “I trust you completely on that,” his hands move to pick up the next card, lifting the corner and taking a peek at the question before flipping it over and reading it.
“What is something you’ve wanted to try in the bedroom but haven’t told me about?”
“Impact play,” comes your answer a bit too hastily to be considered normal.
Bokuto has a silent stare off with you for a few seconds after before you both break out in hysterical laughter, your fiancé cackling at how fast and prepared you were when you answered while you exclaim that’s why you could never tell him.
“Baby, that was so fast!” Bokuto reels over the table, pounding his fist into the wood while howling with laughter, gripping his empty shot glass in hand.
“Were you— were you that prepared to answer?”
Wiping the tears from your eyes, you make an attempt to defend your response, “I know you’d absolutely wreck me if we tried, that’s why I never asked!”
“I mean…” He trails off, glancing at you and letting his eyes roam your ring finger as a smirk makes it’s way onto his face, leaning closer to you over the table. “We could always try it at home later—”
“Last question!” You interrupt him, pulling the cards over to your side and grabbing the last question from the stack, you see Bokuto’s smile drop when he sits back in his seat from how you changed topics until he sees you wink at him from the corner of his eye.
“What is something you wish to tell me before we get married?”
Bokuto’s eyes light up at his question, holding up his shot of Sapporo and beaming brightly. Despite not drinking much during your game, his cheeks are flushed like he’s been drunk on your love this entire time, eyes crinkling with glee when he smiles.
“I hope I can keep being this happy when i’m with you after marriage,” He declares, “I love you, Baby.”
“I love you too, Kou,” you smile with him, raising your own shot to clink your two glasses together and down them simultaneously, the cool smoothness of the beer running down your throats.
You can feel the mild bitterness on your tongue afterwards, it leaves it’s taste behind even several hours after your drinking game when you two return to your shared home.
But the sincerity in Bokuto’s eyes when they fell on you back in the studio, and the way he gazes at you like you’re the only thing in his world even with the several NHK staff and film members recording your every move washes that all away instantaneously, overpowering it with sheer sweetness.
It’s just not one you can taste as easily as the flavour of Sapporo.
You might not have gotten drunk that night, but Bokuto’s certain he’s been drunk on your love for the entirety of all three years you’ve been together and wouldn’t mind if things stayed like this forever.
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MORISUKE YAKU.
“You’re going down, sweetheart,” Yaku warns you with a teasing wink, lifting the bottle of Vodka in his hands to inspect the label, “Playing in the Russian League gives me an alcohol tolerance advantage that you don’t have.”
“I didn’t know just playing in Russia meant you were an experienced drinker,” you hum, playing along with his jokes for the fun of it. “I don’t think athletes are supposed to consume a lot of vodka anyways.”
“Well, you might as well back out now,” Yaku advises, shrugging with a sly grin, one of the camera crew’s members rushes up to fix the loose microphone on his suit before scurrying back to their position.
“Don’t wanna get beaten by your own fiancé now, do you?”
You merely roll your eyes at his antics, a reluctant smile making it’s way onto your face as you realign the messy stack of cards on your table, sounds of the director doing a final run through of lights and cameras are heard around you.
“Yeah yeah, save it for after you get wasted, Mori.”
The cameras start up as the director nods in your direction, indicating for you two to introduce yourselves to the viewers tuning in, Yaku holds your hand as he recites his lines.
“Hi, I’m Morisuke Yaku,” your fiancé beams, giving your hand a comforting squeeze, “And this right here, is my wonderful fiancée, whom I adore very much.”
Even several years later, Yaku’s swoon worthy words have an effect on you after all this time, making you feel like you’re still in that young and eager love stage. Attempting to hide your giddy face from him, you turn to face the camera as well with a wide grin.
“We’ve been together for four and a half years,” You gush, the sparkling engagement band on your finger being shown outwardly when the cameras zoom in for a closer look. “Engaged for eight months, now.”
“And today, we’ll be playing truth or drink,” Yaku reveals to the excited viewers, the cameras change positions to new angles while the sound crew makes sure your microphones are picking up your words.
After signaling to the director that they are indeed working, he asks you two, “Are you ready to play?”
You and Yaku both agree as he opens the bottle of Vodka, pouring it into your shot glass first before he pours out his own, “Hm, what a gentleman you are, Mori.” You joke, noticing he gave you your alcohol first before serving himself any.
“Always, for you.” He sighs dreamily, setting the bottle down beside him and pushing the cards over to you with his familiar cheshire grin. “And because I’m such a gentleman, you should go first, love.”
You stifle a laugh into the palm of your hand at the sudden switch in personality but take the top card off anyway, flipping it over and reading the question for Yaku written on it, “What is one thing you wish I did more of in our relationship?”
He groans, slumping down in his seat with his Vodka in hand, “Fly over to come visit me overseas,” he jokingly groans, faux-booing you with a thumbs down and all as he turns to the film crew.
“Did you know she doesn’t get on the first plane to Russia whenever I ask, can you believe her?”
You merely snicker at his jeers and turn your card over, placing it down on the table beside your shot. “Well I’m sorry, but I’m unable to predict whenever you’ll miss me spontaneously.”
“It’s not spontaneous,” Yaku argues, “I tell you like, two minutes in advance.”
You raise an eyebrow at his claims, “Wanna bet, Mori? I have screenshots.”
“Maybe I’ll just drink to this instead.”
You both giggle as he shakes his head in defeat, taking the next card off the pile and reading out loud the first question for you.
“Have you ever—” Yaku begins to lose his composure as he reads, holding back his giggles before sputtering out, “faked an orgasm with me?”
You burst out into laughter as Yaku discards the card to his side, head thrown back in hysterics while using the table to stabilize himself.
“Well?” He asks, wiping the tears that have begun to form around his eyes, “Have you?”
You begin to reach for your Vodka shot, causing your fiancé to break out into another, more excessive fit of cackles, “Are you serious, honey?”
“Okay well, maybe!” You confess wholeheartedly, raising the Vodka to your lips, “Back when we were first dating!”
Yaku scoffs disapprovingly, but you can tell he’s not seriously mad when you down the vodka and he’s looking at you worriedly, asking if it was too strong for you afterwards.
You dismiss his concerns, saying it’s fine and that you can handle it before he relaxes and pushes the cards back over to you.
“Have you ever had a dream about me cheating on you?” You ask him, Yaku’s face immediately sours at his question, you look to him expectantly and wait for his reply.
“… Ugh, yes,” he begrudgingly admits after a few moments of silence, eyebrows furrowing as he recalls it unpleasantly, “I had a dream once where you cheated on me with Lev.”
“Lev?” You cackle, “The— the 6’5 russian guy from your highschool volleyball team??”
Yaku’s hand moves to his vodka-filled shot glass, “Yes,” he moans, “It was awful. Hope I never see Lev butt-naked in my dreams ever again.”
“You don’t have to drink to this one, Mori,” you giggle as Yaku downs his vodka quickly, not even flinching at the burn, maybe he was right about the tolerance advantage. “Since you answered it.”
“Ah, don’t care,” he groans, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his suit, “After having to reimagine that scene, I needed the alcohol.”
Yaku takes the next card off the pile of questions skeptically, flipping it over and reading it out loud.
“Do you have any insecurities when it comes to me playing overseas in Russia?”
The question causes you to stop and think as Yaku places the card face down next to him, pouring another shot and sliding it over to you. “You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart.”
His gentle tone reassures you but you shake your head, pushing the vodka away, “No it’s okay, I don’t mind saying it.” Yaku looks surprised but nods understandingly, taking the glass back and giving you the room to process your next words while he remains quiet.
“I think my only insecurity is not knowing if you’re safe while overseas,” you admit to your fiancé. Yaku doesn’t say anything in response, knowing you have more to say as he lets you say what you need while silently encouraging you to elaborate.
“I hate not having you beside me because I don’t know where you are, and I just miss you a lot you know?”
Yaku’s cheek rests against the palm of his hand, concern washing over his face again as he looks across the table to you, “Awe, honey. I didn’t know you felt that way,” he coos, “do you hate whenever I leave for volleyball season?”
You shrug dismissively, the weight of your words beginning to catch up to you as your voice becomes quieter, trailing off at the end. “I mean, I don’t hate it, but like- I wanna know you’re alright while in Russia…”
Yaku’s about to speak when you shake your head dismissively, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” before you’re reaching for the deck of cards, already pulling the top question up and flipping it over to read.
Your eyes drag over the words as a pit begins to form inside your stomach. The next question for Yaku causes you to cringe, still reeling from the uneasiness of the last one as you awkwardly ask him, “Have you… ever regretted or had doubts about our engagement?”
Yaku’s face of concern turns into one of astonishment, he looks almost appalled at how unsure you look and sound while asking him.
“Absolutely not,” he states firmly, holding your hand that holds engagement band on it, you can feel the distress radiating off him as he reassures you in a hushed tone.
“I’ve never once regretted proposing to you, and I fully intend on marrying you.”
Yaku’s words dislodge the lump in your throat as you begin to chuckle to yourself, eyes looking down at his hand where the engagement ring he wears that matched your own. “I’m sorry if you thought I was doubting you, Mori. It’s just—”
“You don’t need to justify your feelings,” Yaku reiterates sternly, “I know, okay? You don’t need to explain this on live T.V.”
Knowing he’s only trying to make sure nothing of what you say can be interpreted wrongly later by media, you nod as he sighs in relief with an uneasy smile.
“I think this next question is our last one,” he announces, his smile morphing back into that familiar cheshire grin, the one that always brightens your day. You think he’s doing it in an attempt to lighten the mood, or maybe he just naturally makes you happy.
Yaku picks up the final question card and flips it over, reading it over with a calm smile, “What have you enjoyed most about being engaged to me?” His voice is gentle as he looks up to you, placing the card down on his pile.
“Well, love?” He encourages you, knowing he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable he gives you the choice, “Do you want to answer, or take a drink?”
You’d be a fool to drink at this question, there isn’t anything to drink for here but there’s just so much about being engaged to Yaku that you love that you can’t quite find the words for it. And while the majority of your engagement has been spent with Yaku being away in Russia, it doesn’t mean you enjoy it any less than if he were with you in Japan.
“… I enjoy knowing you will always be with me,” you begin to speak slowly, making sure your words are clear and concise while twirling your empty shot glass in hand absentmindedly.
Trying to fit all you want to say to your fiancé in a few words is tough, but you manage to shorten it enouhh to say all you want to tell him. “Because even while you’re playing overseas, I know you will always come back home to me.”
Yaku’s face unexpectedly heats up at your words, the apples of his cheeks turning bright red as his lips form into a shy and nervous grin, one isn’t anything like the mischievous and playful personality you’re accustomed to seeing while with him.
“I… I love you, sweetheart.” He manages to speak after some time, loosening the collar of his dress shirt nervously, but the smile on his face never falters. “I always have and always will.”
He extends his hand out to you, motioning for you to give him your shot glass. You hand it to him and he pours out some Vodka, sliding it back over to you once full before filling his own.
“Yes, honey,” he whispers unconsciously while pouring his alcohol, and it’s the happiest you’ve seen him all day. From his flushed complexion, dopey smile and euphoric demeanour, he appears to be glowing. Or maybe it’s the blaring lights behind him that are playing tricks on you.
Your fiancé has never looked so sure of himself until this moment, Yaku’s eyes never straying from yours as he raises his shot glass, breaking into his biggest smile yet.
“I will always come back home to you. No matter how long we are apart for,” and to that, you both cheer, clinking your glasses as you toast to your engagement.
Downing the alcohol in unison, the bitter sting of the Vodka attacks your throats relentlessly, but neither you or Yaku care about that in this moment or the next.
The world’s most intense Vodka brewed directly in the heart of Moscow, Russia could never be so strong as to have an effect on either of you when you’re in the presence of each other. You’re certain that Yaku would drown himself in the harshest of Vodka’s if it meant it was all for you.
A little Vodka is nothing compared to what he’d go through for you.
The way Yaku’s entire demeanour changes when with you, the largest of smiles etched onto his face for a side he only shows while you’re with him here, in Japan.
Remaining wholely committed to you even while seperated by land and sea is all a true testament to your relationship, and it puts your heart at ease.
Yaku may not always be at home; but Yaku knows that home is with you, and he knows he’ll always be with you in due time.
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KIYOOMI SAKUSA.
“Oh, he’s a lightweight,” you tell the film crew who are adjusting their camera stands nearby as Kiyoomi pulls out the chair at the table for you to sit at, giggling when you hear the faintest muffled groan come from underneath his face mask.
Sitting atop the table is a bottle of Scotch, the deck of question cards and two shot glasses on it’s sanitized surface as per request by your fiancé.
“This’ll be so easy for me.”
“As if,” Kiyoomi scoffs, taking his own seat across from you and scooching his chair forward, “I’ll beat you and then have to hear you drunkenly cry about it back home later for the next several hours.”
“Nope,” you declare mischievously, folding your arms over the table and laying your head in them while looking up at your fiancé, “Hey, did you know Atsumu told me you’re an emotional drunk?”
You can see Kiyoomi’s eyes twitch underneath his thick black locs, hand reaching to grip his hair in annoyance. “That fucking—”
The director interrupts him unexpectedly when he calls to the rest of the crew in the studio for everyone to take their places behind the cameras, Kiyoomi sighs deeply as his shoulders relax and he leans back in his chair waiting for the broadcast to begin.
“I’m Kiyoomi Sakusa,” he states to the viewers plainly, barely acknowledging the cameras pointed straight at his face when he motions to you, “And this is my fiancée of almost a year.”
You can hear the way his voice softens lightly when referring to you as his fiancée.
“We’ve been together for four years now,” You welcome the viewers much more warmly than your fiancé does, announcing eagerly, “Engaged for eleven months, and we’re playing truth or drink!”
Again, you’re a lot more excited than Kiyoomi is when the director asks, “You guys okay to start playing?” but he agrees to it nonetheless, the subtle nod of his head doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
Kiyoomi grabs the stack of cards full of questions and shuffles the deck around a bit, when asked by the director why he did so he answers, “So if anyone planted any weird questions at the top of the pile for her they’re pushed to the bottom.”
After reorganizing the cards, Kiyoomi hands the stack to you, letting you have first pick of the game. You try to argue, but he doesn’t listen.
“Ladies go first,” he says, expectantly waiting for you to start.
You take the first card of the newly shuffled deck and begin to read it for your fiancé, “Favourite memory of us, pre-engagement or post-engagement?”
Kiyoomi taps his empty glass against the mahogany of the table repeatedly for a brief moment, thinking it over before letting out a deep sigh-turned groan, reaching over and pouring out some Scotch for himself as you sit back in stunned shock at his actions.
“Wait, what—”
“Don’t question me,” he rasps, lowering his face mask and downing his shot with ease, there’s hints of floral notes in the Scotch he can taste.
He pulls his mask back up seconds later and looks up at you, you swear you can see a smirk forming under his mask from the way his eyes lift in amusement afterwards, causing your cheeks to heat up at what he could’ve been thinking about that he had to take a shot to get out of saying it.
Finishing off his Scotch, your fiancé takes both the top card off the deck and his empty shot glass before reading aloud his first question for you.
“What was your first impression of me when we met?” Kiyoomi reads monotonously, his stare hardens when he notices you jokingly reaching for your shot glass, tossing the card over to your side with a groan.
“Really?” He huffs, arms crossed over his chest and glaring halfheartedly at your tease. “Didn’t Motoya say you like… hated me at first or something?”
“I didn’t hate you,” you giggle, pouring the Scotch into your glass while avoiding your fiancé’s gaze, “I just.. am a little thirsty right now.”
“Haha,” Kiyoomi laughs dryly, watching as you down your shot quickly, the citrusy notes in the Scotch make it pleasant to drink. “You’re soo funny, dear. Must be really thirsty today.”
“I am,” you wink, placing your glass back down on the table before taking the next card off the pile.
“What is the most embarrassing nickname for me you have in mind?” Kiyoomi asks, and you snort.
“It’s only embarrassing because Atsumu came up with it…” you turn to the cameras to whisper to the viewers, facing your fiancé who’s giving you a skeptic look that soon turns into existential dread when you begin to snicker.
He groans, “I swear to god if it’s Omi-Omi—”
“It’s Omi-Omi.”
You can practically feel the annoyance radiating off of Kiyoomi while you bat your eyelashes innocently at him, playful shrug of your shoulders as you pull the cards back over to your side, taking the next card off the deck while your fiancé whispers something about killing Atsumu at the next practice from across the table.
“What colour or colours are your favorite on me?” You look up at the director almost immediately before Kiyoomi can even open his mouth, “Can I just say it— Because I know.”
The director nods, “He told me once it was black and gold,” Kiyoomi mumbles something incoherent under his breath, whatever he’s saying being muffled by his nask as he hides his face away from the cameras, the camera crew exchange a look amongst themselves.
“Aren’t those the colours of the MSBY Black Jackals?” One of the crew members mentions offhandedly and you smirk, looking over to your flustered fiancé with the most shit-eating grin you can muster, “Yes, yes they are.”
“Should’ve just let me answer instead,” he mutters while pulling out the next card from the deck to move the game along, coughing as his face slowly returns to it’s natural colour.
He chuckles when he reads it over, “How would you spend an entire week without me?” he turns to the cameras with his own smug face, placing the card down on the table. “She doesn’t.”
“I can,” you interject and he gives you a deadpan stare, “Yeah, can. Doesn’t mean you do, though.”
“Anyways,” you swerve back to your answer, taking the card from his side and reading it over yourself.
“I would have a very relaxing week without you, consisting mostly of singing and dancing in our empty kitchen without you to judge me.”
“I don’t judge you.”
“Yes you do.”
“Nope.”
You two could probably have this back and fourth for hours on end but you stop when you catch the director’s eye, one of his assistants motions to you hurriedly that it’s nearly time to end the broadcast.
With that in mind, you pick up the last question card, flipping it over and reading it for Kiyoomi.
“What’s one thing you’d like to tell me at the alter if you couldn’t say anything else.”
“That I love you,” Kiyoomi says almost immediately, tracing the rim of his shot glass with his ring finger delicately, you can hear the gentleness in his voice when he speaks. “And that I hope you’ll always be my lover, whatever that means for us in the future.”
“That’s more than one thing, Kiyo.”
“I don’t care.”
You scoff playfully, tossing the card aside and pouring out two shots of Scotch for you and your fiancé. Whilst handing him his glass your rings bump together momentarily, the clinking of the diamonds makes the two of you smile, though Kiyoomi’s is hidden underneath his mask.
“Cheers, my dear,” he mutters softly, lowering his mask again to drink and allowing you to finally see the beautiful smile he hides underneath, usually reserved only for you.
“Cheers, Kiyo,” and you two drink, the Scotch tastes lovely and refined on both of your tongues when it runs down your throats with ease.
It’s light and sophisticated, and the flavour profile fits Kiyoomi so well. You consider telling him that, but refrain because you think he won’t understand what you mean; not knowing he’s thinking the exact same about you.
Kiyoomi thinks you two may be a match made in heaven, if such a thing exists then it perfectly encapsulates the two of you.
As the cameras cut and several crew members rush around the studio, Kiyoomi doesn’t notice any of that in this moment— his gaze continues to be locked onto you wholly; lovingly enraptured by the beautiful image of you across from him that he hopes will be burned into the back of his head like the taste of this Scotch, but for many years to come and not just a mere few hours.
Kiyoomi can drink Scotch at any time he pleases, but being married to you is something he is excited for and craves everyday of his life as the days on the calender tick down to your wedding, it keeps him motivated to continue each day if he knows it’s just one day closer to a life with you, one where he knows you will be with him every day going forward.
The day you two will finally be united as one. Kiyoomi can’t wait for that morning to come, when night falls and after the ceremony is done he can finally refer to you as his wife and not just his fiancée.
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TOBIO KAGEYAMA.
Tobio gulps upon seeing the Sake being poured into his shot glass by the NHK staff member, being handed the alcohol before they pour out another shot for you, to which you graciously accept with a smile and nod of your head.
“Uhh…” His piercing gaze reaches across to you across the table, nervously fiddling with the glass in hand as he twirls it inbetween his fingers, “I don’t, really hold alcohol well, love..”
“Really?” You stare at him blankly, squinting down at the alcohol in your own shot, “what do you drink in Italy then, Tobio?”
“Limoncello,” he sighs, “but it’s supposed to be sipped slowly, not downed like shots usually are.” He makes a face as the thought of attempting to drink Limoncello like shots ripples through his mind, it would most definitely not end well for him.
You chuckle and give him a reassuring smile, placing your hand over his gently. The diamond on his ring is cool to the touch when you run your thumb over it, with sharp and well defined cut corners. “You’ll be fine, Tobio.”
He nods unsurely but allows the NHK camera crew to do their final run through, making sure everything is in order before the cameras begin to roll and the director is motioning for you both to recite your lines.
Your fiancé’s voice is a little strained, a faint stutter can be heard as he speaks slowly, “I’m… Tobio Kageyama,” he manages to say before craning his head to his left, across the table.
“And I’m her fiancé,” his eyes shift towards you as you give the cameras a polite wave, “We’re playing… truth or drink.”
“We’ve been together for five years,” You excitedly tell the viewers, holding up your ring finger to show off the dazzling diamond atop it, “And engaged for two.”
The director asks from out of frame, “Why have you two been engaged for so long?” A question that most viewers are probably wanting to know, Tobio answers it for you.
“I wanted to marry her sooner,” he timidly admits, looking down at his lap to avoid the harsh glares of the camera lenses, “But with me playing in Ali Roma, it’s hard to plan things out, I guess.”
You nod, “Besides,” you chime in giddily, taking over for him, “It’s fun to be in this little engaged stage for a long time, makes everyday that bit more exciting.”
You ramble on about how fun it is to call Tobio during his off days; calling him at three in the morning in Japan while in Italy it’s 7PM to tell him about a cute floral arrangement you saw earlier that day while shopping that you’d love to have at your wedding.
Facetiming him in the dark of the night, wrapped in blankets and wearing his highschool volleyball jersey to ask him what kind of food from Italy he wants to incorporate into the wedding menu, and texting him photos of different style of wedding dresses you’re considering wearing on your big day while getting out of the shower.
You unintentionally forget about your jittery mess of a fiancé while you speak, beaming as bright as the glowering studio lights as Tobio looks at you amazed.
Tobio’s nervousness slowly fades when he sees the ring on your finger and just how happy you are to be engaged to him. It’s always been a worry of his that you hate the long wait to get married to him, that playing overseas would hurt your relationship because of long he is away from home at times.
But your gleeful joy in telling thousands of viewers in real time that you love just being engaged to him for two years; that you don’t mind it at all, brings some peace of mind to his fragile heart.
“Are you two ready to play?”
Knuckles slowly unclenching as he takes a deep breath, he nods his head to the director, indicating the start of the game. He starts first, picking up the first card from the pile.
“What is the most awkward date we’ve ever been on?” Tobio’s face drops immediately upon reading, turning the card face down on the table and turning to the director, “Can I start over? Or make her drink?”
“It’s her choice if she wants to answer or drink.” The director answers.
Tobio turns to you hastily, eyes practically pleading with you not to say what you have on your mind, he’s already inside your mind and fears for what you could potentially reveal on national television, causing you to erupt in a fit of giggles as you reach for the Sake.
“Fine, fine. I won’t say, Tobio.” You’ve never seen your fiancé so relieved, almost seeing the metaphorical weight lifting off his shoulders with your own eyes when you take the shot.
The Sake is sweet, like sticky rice. It’s feels cool when it hits the back of your tongue and nice to drink, reminding you of the Italian sweets Tobio would send you from Italy. Noting that they’d pair nicely with Sake, you consider getting Tobio to send you more of them in the mail soon.
“You owe me for that one, Tobio,” you chuckle after finishing your shot, “Whatever the next question is you have to answer it.” He groans in protest but agrees after some convincing as you reach for the question pile and grab your first question for him.
“Have you kept a secret hobby or interest hidden from me?”
Shockingly, Tobio nods his head and unexpectedly calm about the question he was supposedly ‘forced’ to answer, “I got into gardening when I first came to Italy.”
“You what?” You utter, delightfully surprised at this revelation, “What plants do you take care of in Italy?”
“I have a few hanging Boston Fern and Ivy in some pots around my apartment…” Tobio tells you, adverting his gaze from your eyes the more your smile grows towards him. “I didn’t mean to keep them from you, I just… forgot to mention it everytime we call.”
“Tobio…” You laugh at how empty headed your fiancé can be at times, sometimes you think he’d forget his head if it weren’t secured to his body. “We call almost every day!”
“Yeah, but you usually call me late at night!” He defends himself, “I don’t normally leave my room that late at night, so you never see them!”
You shake your head in disbelief at this, faux disappointment at your fiancé for keeping this interest of his hidden for so long, “When I visit you in Rome, you have to show me these plants, deal?”
He nods in approval at that arrangement, a small smile creeping onto his face as he takes the next card off the deck, “Have you pretended to like a gift I gave you when you actually didn’t?”
You consider reaching for the Sake but reel your hand back at the last second, deciding to tell him straight up.
“Yeah, the lingerie you sent me a few months ago.”
“You didn’t like it?”
Tobio’s mouth hangs open, visibly swallowing his shame away as he sets the question card down on the table, a hand running through his hair in deep thought.
“Okay well, didn’t like isn’t the right word per se—”
“Was it the style?” Tobio begins interrogating you sternly, brows furrowed and that determined look in his eyes you’re so familiar with while watching his volleyball matches.
“Was it the colour, or was it too flimsy? I tried going to a new store that time, I knew I should’ve just stuck to the other one—”
“Tobio!”
He’s immediately brought out of his thoughts by your cackles, blinking as he’s focused on your laughing figure in front of him. His cheeks are tinted a dark shade of red, thinking he’s said something embarrassing when he whispers a low, “Yes, love?”
Through fits of giggles and laughter, you barely manage to sputter out, “It was just the wrong size, babe!”
Tobio’s eyes widen significantly at the reveal, looking down at his hands where his engagement ring sits comfortably in his ring finger, feeling his body shrink in on itself further into his seat while you’re howling across from him.
If you were seated beside each other he’s sure you’d be slapping his arm too for good measure.
“C-can we move onto the next question…” He mumbles just above the microphone strapped to his dress shirt’s minimum level to pick up sounds. If his old highschool teammates were here— if Hinata were here, god, he’d never hear the end of it. “Please?”
Finally settling down from your giggly high, you vaguely nod, still catching your breath when you reach for the next question card on the pile and flip it over as Tobio tries his best to calm down his reddened face.
“What is the most romantic thing your partner has ever done for you?”
After Tobio’s managed to relax himself, he thinks the question over, chin in hand as his gaze lands directly on the Sake bottle on the table beside him where he gets lost in thought while mulling over the question.
“I think…” he mutters to himself, “When you told me it was okay to go play in Ali Roma, instead of discouraging me to stay in Japan.”
His answer legitimately surprises you, “Is that, really your response, Tobio?”
He nods, hands reaching up to the nape of his neck. “Yeah… I don’t know if romantic is the right word, I guess.“
“But knowing you were there to support me; even if I could tell you were scared for me going overseas, it felt like the most romantic gesture someone could ever do to me.”
Tobio blinks, suddenly remembering his words are being broadcasted on national T.V and coughing awkwardly, “Uh, yeah, that’s my answer.”
He begins to notice the gazes of the rest of the film crew and director that are burning right through him, feeling the colour returning to his cheeks.
Tobio looks over to you anxiously, finding you with the brighest eyes he’s ever seen, he could get lost in them if he stared into them long enough. You purse your lips for a moment, before a smile blossoms across your face.
“Wow, Tobio,” you breathe out dreamily, “That was… so sweet of you to say,” Tobio has a hard time meeting your gaze, you can tell he’s still feeling anxious so you grab his hand and force him to look you in the eye.
“I will always support you, okay?” You tell him firmly, he’s a bit startled at how forward you’re being but nods before you quickly add, “Even if I don’t like being so far away from you, you don’t need to worry about me. Don’t be so nervous about this, alright?”
Tobio’s lips quiver into a strained frown before he sighs, “It’s not that simple,” you feel his hand give yours a light squeeze for comfort, interlocking his fingers with your own. “I wish I could just… not be so worried for you. But I love you too much for that.”
“Loving me means you understand that no matter what, I am right behind you,” you voice to him directly. “Maybe not physically, but no matter where you go, I will follow eventually.”
Tobio goes silent for a few seconds, even when he knows dozens of people in this studio— hundreds of thousands are watching him live, he’s only looking at you; having eyes only for you. With a shaky nod of his head, he finally manages to crack a smile.
“I understand.”
Releasing your hand from his grip, he pulls his next question for you from the pile, looking far more relaxed than he did at the beginning of your game. He’s comfortable in this stage of your relationship, even if he knows that others think it’s strange— the distance between you two, the long engagement period.
He knows the only opinion that should matter to him—that does matter to him is yours alone.
“When you hear my name in public, what comes to your mind?”
“That you have done another amazing set,” You answer with ease, allowing yourself to feed his ego for once. “Or won another game, who knows at this point? You can do it all.”
Tobio seems satisfied with that answer, even uncharacteristically relishing in your praise. “Ah, I am pretty good at volleyball, aren’t I?”
You lean over the table to punch his shoulder lightly, a teasing grin dances on your lips which matches his own, “Yeah yeah, you’re welcome for being so supportive of my fiancé.”
“Well thank you then, love.”
One of the camera crew’s members motions to the director, indicating it’s almost time to wrap up the broadcast. Feeling at peace, you grab the final card of the question deck, eyes flickering to Tobio as you read.
“Anything else you’d like to say to me about our engagement?”
Tobio takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he speaks. He wants to make sure he tells you everything on his mind, but maybe that will have to wait for another time— a more private time.
One that isn’t being broadcasted on national television. So he’ll settle for the next best course.
“I just wanted to say…” He hesitates for a moment, his mouth opening and closing at times until he can find his bearings. “That being engaged to you has taught me a lot of things.”
You’re about to say something in response until he holds his hand up, indicating he isn’t done yet.
“And… I wouldn’t mind if we stayed like this forever.”
Tobio notices the slight look of confusion in your eyes as he continues, “Wh-what I mean is, uh… even though we aren’t married yet, you make me so happy that I feel like I could be okay with what we have.”
“I still want to marry you!” He blurts out worriedly in an attempt to explain himself, “But knowing you’re not bothered by how long we’re engaged for is enough to reassure me that no matter how long we wait for, I’ll still be as happy as the day we marry.”
Tobio shuts his eyes, burying his head in his hands from sheer embarrassment, “Fuck, that was so stupid sounding-”
“Hey now..” You pry his hands away from his face with a pout, leaning across the table’s surface to cup his cheek, “That wasn’t stupid, that was sweet!”
“Really?” He asks, unsure if he believes you, “I’m not really good with my words, y’know.”
“Well I understood what you meant,” you smile, pressing a kiss to your ring finger and placing it on your fiancé’s lips, “And I feel the same way.”
Tobio’s face erupts into a bright scarlet red as you pour the two of you a shot of Sake each, downing them together with your rings on prominent display for all of Japan to see.
Your fiancé is still quite popular in Japan despite now playing overseas, overhearing the NHK film crew and the thousands of viewers who tuned in were watching his broadcast with you while dying in laughter.
It’s not laughter to mock him however— as he soon finds out when after the cameras cut and he can still hear the staff talking about how adorable he looked during the live special.
And his old highschool friends blowing up his phone, sending him clips of his broadcast with hearts and kissy face emojis, but you swear to him that it’s all well intentioned. Maybe not Tsukishima’s to some extent, but nontheless.
All Tobio knows he can do is sigh, turn his phone off and settle into your arms after everything’s been said and done. His time in Japan is limited after all, he has to fly back to Italy in a few days time.
He knows it hurts to leave you again, and you hate sending him off at the airport. He wishes he could marry you immediately— but there’s still so much to be done until that day can arrive.
Tobio doesn’t know when the lucky day will come when you can instead wear a wedding ring on your finger rather than an engagement ring, but as Tobio has discovered today; the two of you will be okay until then despite it all.
It takes a lot to make Tobio anxious about your engagement, but it also takes a lot to shake the strong foundation the two of you have built with each other over the years.
The two of you have planned your future with each other as the main component of it all in the centre of it for as long as you can remember, and he’s prepared to withstand any obstacles that threaten his happiness with you.
Tobio is at ease knowing you have his back, and he has yours even while separated by thousands of miles of stretching oceans and ground.
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reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა
© property of shoyostar / thomae 2023. all rights reserved.
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DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ
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oh future husband, better love me right!
premise. the nhk gives it’s viewers a peak into the love lives of the jnt’s lineup, interviewing the future wives of the jnt to crack the secret to a happy relationship ❤︎
content. haikyu!! jnt / f!reader. (atsumu miya, rintarou suna, wakatoshi ushijima & shoyo hinata). fluff. somewhat decent relationship advice. downbad fiancés. healthy relationships(!!). suggestive moments. petnames.
soundtrack. dear future husband : meghan trainor.
part two can be read here.
dear future husband m.list. // hq. masterlist.
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ATSUMU MIYA.
“after every fight, just apologize.”
“Relationship advice?” You repeat, sitting across from the NHK interviewer, mic strapped to your shirt as a camera filmed your living room. She nods, smiling while holding a microphone of her own.
“Yes! Tell us, what is the secret to a healthy relationship?”
You tilt your head, “Well, I guess I have some advice to give.” Your fingers drum against the armrest of your couch as you sit in thought, contemplating on what to tell the reporter, “hmm..”
Atsumu sitting beside you laughs, his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder, “I have some advice I’d like to give as well.”
You turn to him with a grimace. “I don’t want any young viewers following whatever is about to come out of your mouth, ‘Tsumu.”
He looks at you offended; reeling his arm back to his side, shock spelled out all over his face. “Excuse me, I’m great at romance. I romanced you, didn’t I?”
“Unfortunately,” you jest, with Atsumu exclaiming in protest, “But this isn’t just about romancing someone, ‘Tsumu. They’re asking what makes a relationship a healthy one.”
“So?” He shrugs, “A healthy relationship is one that’s full of romance.”
“I apologize for him,” you playfully tell the interviewer, ignoring the look Atsumu gives you in response, “He’s not the best at this sorta stuff.”
She merely giggles, “No worries, the players are allowed to give their own opinions as well.” Atsumu puffs his chest out, “See, babe? She said I can talk too.”
“Yeah well, just make sure to cut out whatever he says in the final broadcast,” She lets out a snort at your jab, hiding the smile that creeps onto her face behind her microphone while Atsumu shoves your shoulder in despair.
“Awe, c’mon! I’m not that bad with relationship advice!” He pouts at you, looking like a kicked puppy when he does so, “What makes you think I’m so bad at this, do you actually want to marry me, babe?”
Your eyes soften at his saddened tone, feeling slightly guilty you link your fingers with his, eyes full of love when he smiles down at your intertwined hands.
“Of course I do, ‘Tsumu.”
The camera crew awes as you turn back to face the cameras, still holding Atsumu’s hand firmly in your own, running your thumb over the smooth cut diamond ring studded band he wears on his ring finger.
“The advice I have to give viewers is; Apologize when you are wrong,” you tell the interviewer, “No matter your pride, no amount will replace your relationship. It’s never worth sacrificing your loved one just for the sake of winning an argument.”
“Uh huh, you’re one to talk about that, babe,” Atsumu rolls his neck, “You never apologize first, it’s always me who has to for you to talk to me again.”
“What are you talking about?” You look at him confused, “I’m the one who initiates the apology conversations, you’re the stubborn one out of us.”
“Nuh-uh.”
You groan, “Exactly.”
Atsumu pulls his hand out of yours, placing it on your thigh instead before facing the cameras. “But, she is right. Do not ever choose a winning an argument over your partner. It ends badly.”
“You would know,” you snort, “You give me the longest silent treatments until I coax you out of it with kisses.”
“Can we cut that out of the broadcast, please?”
You purse your lips to hide the oncoming smile until Atsumu leans forward, a handsome grin on his face as he looks directly into the rolling cameras with a newfound confidence.
“But, y’know. I do always apologize in the end, ‘cause my girl’s never wrong.”
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RINTAROU SUNA.
“make time for her.”
“You see this girl?” Suna jabs a thumb in your direction from across the kitchen, leaning against the marble island lazily as the camera team nods. “Yeah, she gets constipated if I don’t give her enough attention.”
Your head perks up immediately as you shoot him a halfhearted glare, “Do not.”
“See, she’s doing it right now.” He ignores, drinking from his glass of water before setting it down on the counter, ignoring the little gasp you let out at his actions.
Rolling your eyes, you smack his arm before sliding a coaster under his drink, “Don’t scratch the marble, Rinnie. I just bought this island.”
The camera team silently giggles at the short interactions between you two, with Suna sticking his tongue out at you and in response you give him a middle finger before he turns back to face them, “Can you believe her?”
Scoffing, you enter the camera frame beside him, “Don’t bring them into this, Rinnie.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m your fiancée.”
Suna opens his mouth to argue before shutting it promptly, “Good point.”
One of the crew members holds a sign from behind the cameras, indicating to get the interview back on topic. “Why would you ever ask her for relationship advice?” Suna chuckles, “I was the one who made the first move.”
“The interview is for the fiancée’s of the JNT, Mr. Suna,” the interviewer reminds him, “But the players are welcome to voice their own opinions as well.”
Suna stretches his arm behind his back with a yawn, a sliver of his abdomen peeking out from underneath his home shirt before disappearing quickly, “Well in that case, allow me to voice this opinion—”
You slap a hand over his mouth before he can begin, “Nope, didn’t you hear them? This is my interview, Rinnie.”
“Buhf dey shaid I can shpeak too, affhole." Suna glares from behind your hand, removing it from his mouth with a groan. “Did you even wash your hand? Tastes gross.”
“Why did you lick my hand?”
“We’ve done freakier things than that and that’s what you’re worried about?”
Your words get lodged in your throat, sputtering out hurriedly, “This is going on T.V, Rinnie!”
He looks to you with a smug smile, “Yeah, and I can’t wait to rewatch this interview and see your reaction again later.”
Your fists clench momentarily before taking a deep breath, relaxing yourself and facing the cameras with a smile. “Anyways, some relationship advice I’d give to anyone watching; make time for your spouse.”
Suna nods along to your words, “Mhm, I think that’s the most important thing in a relationship.”
“Shut up, Rinnie.”
“Ouch,” he fakes a stab through his heart, monotonous eyes but a playful grin on his lips. “I talk for two seconds and you tell your dear fiancé to shut up?”
You shake your head towards him jokingly, continuing to talk to the interviewer, “A healthy relationship means you spend time with your loved ones, and your spouse should be the most loved person in your life.”
The reporter nods, “I see, I see, what do you suggest to our viewers the best ways to spend quality time with their lover?”
“In bed.” Suna chimes in immediately, earning another smack on the shoulder from you. “What?” He looks at you with a knowing grin, “Oh, you— I didn’t mean like that, oh my god you’re sooo dirty minded.”
He chuckles, “I meant like cuddling, laying in bed together, watching movies. Y’know, wholesome things.”
“Nothing is wholesome with you,” you exasperate, speaking from personal experience. “But yes, those are great ways to spend times with your lover. They’re good times to bond with them, or just relax and unwind after a long day.”
“Yeah, after a gruelling day of practice, it’s nice to come home and lay in her arms,” Suna motions to you before leaning his head on your shoulder, his grin now replaced with a small but gentle smile. “She’s all I want to see after practice.”
“Wow,” you tease, leaning your head atop his, “and where did you learn to be so smooth, hm? Are you just playing it up for the cameras, Rinnie?”
Suna snickers, hands crossed over his chest relaxed, “I would never,” he says before mumbling close to your ear.
“I just, really like to spend time with you.”
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WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA.
“treat her like a lady.”
“My fiancé is out right now at the gym,” you inform the NHK station crew, their camera men follow you inside your house for the opening shots of the broadcast. “Make yourselves comfortable while you wait.”
The interviewer settles himself on a seat at your dining table as you reach for the vase of flowers atop, moving into the kitchen to pour the old water out of their vase, careful to not spill any over your kitchen counter as you refill the container with fresh water from your tap.
Refreshing the water, you carefully place the flowers back into their vase before rearranging them neatly, coming back out of the kitchen to place them back on your table and adjusting them accordingly as the interviewer watches amazed.
“Those flowers are very lovely,” he notes softly, almost as if any louder of a volume would disturb the plants, “Did you fiancé happen to get them for you?”
You smile, “yes, he did,” recalling the first time he got you a bouquet, on your first date many years ago.
“‘Toshi knows I love flowers.”
The soft click of the lock to your house causes you to perk your head up in familiarity, the frame of your fiancé’s figure coming into view as you see him placing his shoes down beside your door before coming inside.
“Welcome home, dear,” you call out to him from the kitchen, one of the camera crew’s members break off to film your fiancé as he enters the home. He drops his gym bag to the floor beside your couch, removing his jacket and hanging it on your coatrack before passing through the halls of your shared home to get to you.
Ushijima shuffles his way into the kitchen, passing by the camera crew and approaching you from behind, hugging you as his hands are wrap around your stomach, head dropping into the crook of your shoulder.
You lean into his touch, his freshly showered hair smells of the shampoo the two of you use.
“Are you showing them the flowers I got you?” He asks, eying the pretty arrangement of flowers on the table. The cameras zoom in to take a closer shot at the flowers, noting the vibrancy of the colours and the lack of thorns adorning the stems.
You and the reporter nod, Ushijima lets a small smile settle on his face. “She told me they were her favourites,” he tells the reporter.
“Hm,” he hums before turning to you, microphone extending outwards. “is that your relationship advice for the viewers then? Giving your loved one gifts?”
You shake your head quickly, “Oh, no! No, that’s not my advice— Of course, do get your partner gifts if you know they’ll enjoy them.” Ushijima straightens up, hands snaking around your waist to stand beside you as the cameras pan out to record the both of you in the same shot.
“‘Toshi just really likes to get me little things,” you smile, reminicing on all the times your eyes barely glazed over something in a store front before he was scrambling inside the shop to buy it for you, despite your pleas.
“But gifts do not have to be expensive,” You reassure the viewers again, “just little trinkets that remind you of your partner will be enough.”
Ushijima nods before lifting your hand up to the camera, showing off the engagement ring with a large diamond displayed proudly atop it. “Yes, but I do like to splurge when it comes to her.”
You retract your hand quickly, warily eying your fiancé, “‘Toshi! Don’t make the viewers think they need to buy people’s happiness with expensive gifts!”
His head tilts unsurely, “My love, do you not like the ring I got you?”
“I-I do! When did I ever say I didn’t?”
His eyes crinkle slightly in concern, “Then why are you hiding our engagement ring from the viewers?”
“Because,” you sigh, “I don’t want young, inexperienced lovers to think they need something like a huge, flashy engagement ring to be loved by someone.”
“But you deserve the best,” he rebuffs, “There is nothing I wouldn’t buy for you if you asked.”
“‘Toshi.. this isn’t really helping our case…”
The reporter turns to Ushijima, “Even though this is a special for the JNT fiancées, the players are allowed to give their own insight.” He informs your soon-to-be husband, “Do you have anything else to add for our viewers?”
Ushijima thinks for a moment, silent in thought as you look to your fiancé, and the sight of his matching engagement ring twinkling under the bright studio lights filling your home catches your eye all too quickly.
“Do you have anything you want to say, ‘Toshi?” You nudge his shoulder slightly when he continues to remain quiet, an encouraging smile on your lips.
He nods, bringing the hand with your ring on it before giving the intricately cut diamond a kiss, his piercing eyes gazing deep into yours, causing your face to heat up fervently at his wolfish grin.
“Treat your partner the best that you can, like the lady she is and deserves to be treated as.”
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SHOYO HINATA.
“don’t forget your anniversaries!”
Shoyo’s leg bounces feverishly as the reporter speaks to you casually, unable to contain his excitement at being asked to join you for this broadcasted interview special.
His grin is wide, beaming whenever you sneak small glances at him whenever the reporter looks down at their cue cards of start up questions to ease into the conversation, before the real topic is brought up.
“Do you have any relationship advice for our viewers?”
You’re about to speak until Shoyo interrupts you, quite literally flying out of his seat while brightly smiling as his hand grasps yours with a tight grip, “I do, I do!”
The reporter chortles, smiling at his tactics, “Thank you, Mr. Hinata. But this interview is specifically for your fiancée.” Shoyo’s face sullens lightly until he speaks again, “But you’re allowed to give your own thoughts when she’s done.”
Shoyo slumps back into his seat dejectedly as you rub his back comfortingly, “Sorry, Sho. But just let me speak first, okay?” His pout is replaced instantaneously at your words with the usual smile he holds when around you, “Alright, baby!”
You look towards the reporter, hand still clasped in Shoyo’s securely. “Here is my advice for a healthy relationship; Don’t forget your anniversaries.”
Your fiancé’s mouth hangs open in shock at your words, head whipping to face you with a hearty laugh, “That’s what I was going to say!”
The look of shock that spreads across your face amuses him, staring at you expectantly for a few moments before you too erupt into laughter, shoulders shaking in surprise as the two of you cling to each other for support, with Shoyo nearly falling off the couch with how hard he cackles.
He clings onto your shoulder to stop himself from tumbling, which in turn causes you to laugh harder as you try to pull him back up as Shoyo calls out for you to ‘save him’.
“Baby, I’m falling!” Shoyo shrieks while howling with laughter, “Grab my hand!”
“You’re already grabbing my hand, Sho!”
Cameras stationed around your living room pan to zoom in on Shoyo’s joyful face when he fools around with you, the grip he still holds on your hand as clear as day as you jokingly attempt to rescue his bumbling self.
The out of frame reporter looks to the two of you happily, the fact that you both seem so absorbed in each other and have forgotten about the interview portion of the broadcast is surprisingly heartwarming for both the crew and the viewers watching the broadcast.
Once the two of you manage to calm down, you shyly look back to the NHK crew with a timid smile.
“Sorry,” you apologize to your interviewer, coughing as you try to hold back another bout of laughter when you catch Shoyo smiling at you again, attempting to contain his giggles. “We got a little- uhm, carried away.”
“It’s no problem,” the reporter chuckles, “I can see the two of you are very much in love, so is that the advice you wish to tell our viewers on how your relationship with each other is so healthy?”
You and Shoyo nod simultaneously, “Yeah, don’t you ever forget your partner’s anniversaries!!” Shoyo sternly but playfully warns the viewers, “I’m serious, guys! Anniversaries are important!”
“What anniversaries should our viewers be aware of when it comes to their lovers?”
This time you speak up, “Well, the major and most well known ones of course,” you begin, listing off the ones you can recall at the moment.
“For example; first month together, first year spent as a couple, birthdays could also count I suppose—”
“Did you know I proposed to her on our fifth anniversary?” Shoyo interrupts excitedly, the same happy and bright smile on his face shining when he proudly pulls up his hand to show off the ring on his finger, “I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot to put the ring on her finger after she accepted!”
Recalling that memory brings warmth to your cheeks, “Yeah, he literally forgot about the ring in the box until I asked him about it later.”
“But in any case,” you circle back to original topic at hand, noticing the way Shoyo’s smile dampens a little when you switch back so quickly as you shoot him an apologetic smile, you don’t want to waste the reporter’s and NHK crew’s time any longer.
“Don’t forget your anniversaries, people! They’re a big deal for a ton of lovers!”
“Th-that’s right!” Shoyo piggybacks off your response, “And if you do forget, you better apologize a lot!”
The reporter nods, turning their attention to your fiancé. “And do you have any final thoughts for our viewers on how you maintain a healthy relationship with your fiancée, Mr. Hinata?”
Shoyo smiles deviously at the open ended question he’s been dying to answer this whole time; his hand creeping teasingly up your thigh to the small of your back as he leans in real close to you with a knowing wink, the flushed expression displayed on your face at his actions encourages him even more to continue.
His eyes glint with amusement, the mischievous grin on his lips is firm even in front of several strangers and cameras rolling in real time, footage of his behaviour being broadcasted to the entirety of Japan this very second.
And without shame or guilt, Shoyo smirks.
“Make your anniversary nights real special for her, trust me on that one.”
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reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა
© property of shoyostar / thomae 2023. all rights reserved.
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“WHY BE FRIENDS IF WE CAN BE LOVERS?” — WRIOTHESLEY, NEUVILLETTE, ALHAITHAM, & KAMISATO AYATO
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in which genshin men decide being friends is not enough. why be friends when you could clearly be so much better as lovers? part two of “we’re just friends, but…” (<- read part one for better understanding of each)
contains: female reader (use of miss, milady/my lady, lovely lady, and madame) ; fluff (slight hints of angst but all happy endings) ; confessions, friends to lovers, wriothesley: implied harassment of reader by an inmate, reader is a doctor at the fortress, angry and possessive wriothesley, jealousy ; neuvillette: reader works at the palais, melusine features, neuvillette is implied to be emotional and make it rain ; alhaitham: mentions of drinking alcohol (alhaitham), vulnerable alhaitham, reader can cook ; ayato: slightly insecure reader, mentions of reader being in a lower class than ayato
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WRIOTHESLEY
wriothesley is not a possessive man, despite his feelings for you.
he’s long accepted that somewhere between frequent visits to you in the infirmary and occasional lunches together as fellow colleagues at the fortress, he’s fallen hopelessly hard for you. how could he not, when you’re so gentle-natured, smart, and unfairly pretty?
but still, wriothesley is not a possessive man. when men praise you to the archons and admire your unearthly beautiful smile, he is not possessive. when he grumpily watches your fingers brush against bare chests of the wounded after pankration matches, he is not possessive. when you shyly thank an inmate who rushes to hold a door open for you, he is not possessive.
but even wriothesley has his limits. and they happen to snap over the edge today—because now, as a man corners you against the wall, pestering you until distress is clear on your face, wriothesley feels possessive.
it’s a shameful feeling, but it’s one he can’t help. he’s tolerated many things, enough of them that make him wash down the bitter taste of jealousy with the most soothing tea he can find in his collection. but this? this is beyond the patience of even a kind warden such as himself.
you, whether you or anyone else in this fortress knows it, are his to protect.
so he walks up, fisting the inmate’s shirt and lifting him up to drag away from you, jaw tight and locked as he asks lowly, “is there a problem? if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were giving this lovely lady here some trouble.”
“y-your grace,” the man, to his credit, has a good mind to look remorseful, eyeing you nervously for a moment before rapidly shaking his head. “n-no, i was just…i was just askin’ her if she’d like some help findin’ her way is all. you know the fortress can be confusin’ ’n such.”
the inmate trails off, nervously chuckling as he quivers in the warden’s unforgiving hold.
wriothesley glances at you, raising an unconvinced eyebrow as he asks, “and do you need any help finding your way, miss?”
“no,” you shake your head, voice a bare whisper.
his jaw tightens further, glancing back at the man before he snarls lowly, “then you leave her alone. don’t let me catch you bothering her again, understood?”
“y-yes, your grace!”
wriothesley releases the man’s shirt, crumpled from his iron grip as he stares, eyes narrowed—threatening, even, as he waits for the brave soul (for anyone who bothers you where he’s in charge is the bravest of all souls) to leave. not one moment is wasted before you watch the inmate scramble away, leaving you alone with a tense, disgruntled duke in your hands.
“thank you,” you whisper, “i’m not sure how much longer he’d have bothered me if you hadn’t shown up.”
“anyone else ever try that before?” he seethes. you’ve never seen him so angry before—something about it feels almost personal.
you shake your head, stepping away from the wall as you walk over to him. “no, wriothesley,” you murmur, “no one gives me a hard time. this was a first.”
“let me know if anyone bothers you,” he grunts, fist still clenched even with no shirt to hold like earlier. “i’ll take care of it.”
you eye the way it’s tightly curled, knuckles almost ghostly white from the pressure before you gently grab his hand, working his fingers loose from his tight grip and rubbing a soothing thumb over the crescent mark from his nails along his palm.
“of course,” you smile softly, “though, i’m sure word will spread quickly that the warden doesn’t appreciate his doctor being bothered by persistent men. i don’t think there will be any repeats of this incident.”
he should feel ashamed.
you think so highly of him—defaulting to believing he’d saved you because he was only worried for your wellbeing, and not because it burned him alive to see a man so close to you, a man who desired you just as much as he did and had stooped to such unchivalrous methods to have you.
faintly, he’s aware that your hand is still grasping his, still rubbing a thumb over the angry, red marks along his palm as you study him carefully. he’s sure there’s not much he hides in his expression—you must be reading him like an open book. he can’t bring himself to care, however, not when the sight of someone else pinning you to a wall and towering over you is still so fresh in his head.
“something on your mind, your grace?” you ask, leaning closer.
perhaps, if he was a stronger man, one with more firm principles, he’d know to pull away and give you your space. but you lean closer, and he’s weak to his own desires, so he takes it as an invitation to lean closer himself.
“yes,” he admits, “i…i’m afraid i had less than honorable intentions when stepping in.”
“oh?” you raise a brow, looking at him in fond amusement. maybe you already know, he thinks, if your lack of surprise tells him anything. “enlighten me, then. what were your intentions?”
“to make sure no man comes close to you,” he mumbles, leaning closer while you do the same, your noses just barely brushing as your breath all but mingles.
“why?” you ask. it almost sounds like a plead—like you’re waiting to hear something desperately.
“because it’s unbearable to see you with other men,” he says hoarsely. if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t show it. but he has reason to believe you’re quite the opposite, in fact, when your eyes seem to brighten.
“and if i were to say i appreciate your intentions?” you ask softly.
finally, his jaw loosens—instead, he replaces the clench with a loose, easy grin, one that allows him to chuckle lowly as he stares at you with a playful disbelief.
“that so?” he hums, “perhaps then you’d care to join me for dinner today, milady—i’ll have the finest meal the cafeteria has to offer waiting for you.”
“on a date?” you ask hopefully.
“on a date,” he confirms with a slight nod.
you kiss his cheek, making his breath catch in his throat as you step away and smile gleefully. “i’ll see you at dinner then, your grace.”
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NEUVILLETTE
the first day you skip your newfound routine of tea and desserts with neuvillette and the many, many melusines that join, it rains. harshly so, in fact.
you walk up to the palais, soaked from the unexpected weather as you grin sheepishly at a concerned sedene.
“madame!” she gasps, “oh, you’ve been caught in the weather!”
“it’s alright, sedene,” you chuckle, “it’s nothing new in fontaine to have unexpected rain. i suppose i should’ve planned accordingly. is monsieur neuvillette in his office? i have papers for him,” you hold up a file.
sedene fidgets for a moment, hesitant as she says, “yes…he’s in his office but…well, i should warn you that he’s not in the best of moods.”
“oh dear,” you furrow your brows, “how unfortunate. i’ll make it quick. they’re quite urgent papers.”
she nods at your promise—and just before you can turn to leave, she stops you, seemingly debating before making a final comment.
“you didn’t join us today, madame,” she starts, “for tea today during the monsieur’s break.”
“oh,” you tilt your head in surprise for a moment, “you’re right, i didn’t. i apologize if you were waiting on me. i was caught up with much paperwork to finish before i came in.”
“i see. perhaps monsieur neuvillette will appreciate knowing that, then,” she smiles.
before you can ask, she skips away, finding a group of melusines in the corner. you watch as they whisper away behind their paws, blinking back your confusion before walking towards the door of neuvillette’s office, knocking gently.
“monsieur neuvillette? may i come in? i have some papers that must be delivered to you.”
there’s a shuffle from inside, a clearing of the iudex’s throat before a raspy, “yes, of course. come in.”
you enter, walking in slowly as you close the distance between the door and his desk, smiling as you set the file down in your hands. he looks rather…well, you’re not sure, exactly—perhaps the best word would be melancholy. suddenly, sedene’s words from earlier ring in your head, and you wonder if there’s any relation between your absence and his seemingly downcast mood.
so you give him an apologetic look as you speak. “i apologize if my absence was a surprise to you today. it seems i lost track of time with paperwork. i hope you enjoyed a peaceful break with the melusines,” you hum, “you certainly need a proper break with all the duties you take on.”
against your better judgement, you reach over, brushing a strand of misplaced hair from his forehead and tucking it back in place. rarely does the chief justice of fontaine ever look less than prim and proper, if ever at all—and the action causes you to pause just as much as it does him.
he breaks the silence first, and if he notices the slight flustered expression on your face, he doesn’t point it out as he says gently, “it’s quite alright. i’m sure you’re a busy individual.”
“i do quite enjoy my routine visit,” you say shyly, “it was a shame i couldn’t join today. but rest assured, i’ll be present tomorrow.”
“i’m glad to hear it,” he seems to brighten a bit, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he admits in a quieter voice, “truthfully, i had assumed you didn’t want to join me—or excuse me, us,” he coughs, correcting himself at the end.
“oh dear,” you furrow your brows, crinkles forming in your forehead as you quickly shake your head, “of course i love joining you. today was a rare occasion, i’m afraid. i hope i didn’t upset you, monsieur.”
“no,” he shakes his head just as quickly. he coughs, clearing his throat as he adds, “it’s just that i…well, i have come to enjoy your company. a little more than i perhaps should.”
he doesn’t meet your gaze, cheeks flushed a gentle shade of pink as you take in his words. silently after a moment, with a bright grin on your face that spreads across your lips and finds itself in the deepest of crinkles in your eyes, you slowly reach over to cup his face.
neuvillette, no matter how trained in self control, cannot help but lean into your touch, staring at you with wide eyes as you rub a delicate circle into the swell of his cheek.
“i’ve come to enjoy your company as well, monsieur. perhaps…perhaps it would be nice to enjoy each other’s company outside of the palais as well,” you offer. and then, eyeing the small opening in the door, you add, “somewhere away from prying eyes.”
neuvillette watches as the door quickly shuts, the soft giggles of the melusines muffled behind the door as he chuckles in amusement. his hand cups the back of your own, cheek laying comfortably in your palm.
“yes,” he murmurs softly, “i think i would love that.”
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ALHAITHAM
alhaitham is not drunk today.
you can tell when you open the door because he’s not swaying, or slurring his words, or staring at you with a hazy look. instead, he’s perfectly sober, perfectly rational, and perfectly collected alhaitham.
you look at him in surprise before smiling in greeting.
“you’re not drunk for once,” you murmur, “i don’t think i ever get a visit from you when you’re not drunk.”
the words make him wince a bit—he doesn’t like the implication of that. alhaitham enjoys your company when he’s not inebriated, especially when he’s not inebriated, in fact. mainly because he can actually recall things that way, like the way you laugh and the crinkle of your eyes. but somehow, being drunk has become a bit of a weekly routine for him at the tavern with his friends (which really, is just cyno and tighnari, and of course, kaveh—but kaveh can hardly be considered a friend these days).
coming to your doorstep every week when he’s drunk becomes a byproduct of his habits. he can’t control them, like an involuntary muscle that moves on its own accord without his permission. just like his heart beats and pumps blood, his feet carry him to find you.
it’s natural, autonomic.
“i didn’t want to drink tonight,” he explains, rubbing his neck awkwardly. alhaitham is blunt—speaking his mind is not a complicated task. he’s sure of his thoughts and opinions, and the response people give them is of little concern to him.
but his thoughts aren’t very coherent when they come to you. he’s not sure of even a single thing, in fact. sure, he knows he likes you—really, really likes you. but sometimes, he contemplates if he’s fallen in love with you. he can’t tell, if he’s being honest, because he’s never been in love before. it’s uncharted waters for even someone as knowledgeable as him.
and then there’s the more difficult part. he’s not sure if you feel the same, or if you’d respond positively to the idea of his developed feelings. logic tells him you’re kind, compassionate, deeply understanding. perhaps you’d let him down gently and still consider him a good friend if you don’t feel the same. but for some reason, there’s an illogical part of him. one he doesn’t recognize. one that tells him that you might walk away and never look twice in his direction again as soon as you realize the nature of his feelings.
logic doesn’t win in his mind for once. it hasn’t for a very long time. it’s why he doesn’t tell you for so long how he feels.but tonight he plans to change that.
regardless of your feelings, requited or unrequited, alhaitham will tell you how he feels. he owes you that much, for all the careful care and deduction you put into handling his drunk self. for all the meals you made and let him eat before letting him crash on your couch. for all the cups of coffee you made his hungover self as you carefully tiptoed around your own home so the noise wouldn’t disturb his pounding head.
he clears his throat, fiddling with his fingers as he stares at his feet.
“do you want to come in?” you offer.
he shakes his head. “i don’t think that’s a good idea. i came…i came to say something.”
“i see,” you nod, “then by all means, share what you have to say.”
it’s not so easy. not when he tries to plan the words in his head as he walks to your home, and not when he’s standing before you. alhaitham is a linguist. he speaks over twenty languages, some of which are known to be romantic by nature. he’s read the divinest of poems and decoded the most complicated of hieroglyphics. he, of all people, should excel in putting words together.
but his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth as he stares at you, though. distantly, he’s aware he must look stupid. standing here, silent and stiff as you stand by your door and wait for him to spit out what he has to say.
so he says the first thing he can think—and it makes his face burn as soon as he realizes what he says. “your sabz meat stew is my favorite.”
you grin, chuckling in amusement as you murmur, “oh my, i’m flattered. you came all this way to praise my cooking?”
“n-no,” he sighs in embarrassment, “that…that’s not what i meant.”
you hum, smiling at him softly as you patiently wait for him to speak again. a part of him feels like you’re aware of something, something that maybe even he’s not aware of himself. but he doesn’t want to dwell on that—perhaps your knowledge is a product of his drunken rambles, and he’s not sure he wants to even begin imagining what that might look like. what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.
“well, if you must know,” you giggle, “i enjoy making your favorite for you.”
“i enjoy your stew,” he mumbles, concentrating for a moment before his face hardens with determination and he looks at you, “i enjoy waking up on your couch, and drinking your coffee, and the way you hum when you get ready for the day. it’s enjoyable because it’s you.”
you process his words for a moment before smile slowly, eyeing him with wonder as you break into a fit of giggles. he doesn’t have time to dwell on whether or not you’re laughing at him because there’s an arm looping around his bicep, pulling him in past your door and pressing him against it as soon as it’s shut.
you’re close—it’s the first thing he notices, chest brushed against his chest as you look up at him with a fond, affectionate expression.
“you’re a smart man, alhaitham,” you murmur, “i’m sure you can figure out why i make your favorite every time you come. and make your coffee just how you like. and let you sleep in on my couch when i could be spending my morning enjoying the sun.”
he wants to tell you that he doesn’t feel very smart when he’s around you. it’s like logic is a foreign concept as soon as your smile invades his line of sight. but words are difficult enough to produce when you’re so close, he doesn’t think he could tell you even if he tried.
instead, he asks, “because you’re kind?”
“not kind enough to do groceries for two every weekend,” you chuckle. “unless…”
“unless…?” he asks breathlessly.
“unless it’s you, silly,” you snort. “do fill in the lines, will you?”
he allows himself to hope. because it doesn’t take logic to let himself hope you feel the same way he does.
“if…” he takes a deep breath, taking a moment to contemplate before boldly settling his hands on your hips, “if i come here next week sober, would you still open the door for me?”
“of course,” you whisper.
“if i came whenever i wanted, would you still open the door for me?” he asks, eyes peering into yours desperately, begging you to tell him what he wants to hear.
you sigh, gently cupping his cheeks as he closes his eyes and shudders. “always,” you breathe, “will you come?”
“yes,” he nods. his shoulders slump—in relief and in pure bliss as he lets his head drop to the crook of your neck, pressing his nose into your warm skin as you cradle the back of his head. “because i enjoy coming home to you.”
“and i enjoy welcoming you home,” you murmur.
and it’s at the same time that you kiss the side of his head and he kisses the soft skin of your neck, a stumbling mess of limbs pressed against one another as you both find your way to collapse on your familiar couch.
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KAMISATO AYATO
it’s midnight when there’s a knock on your door. it’s rushed, an incessant tapping against the surface that almost has you concerned, but the familiar face through the peephole eases your worries.
and then it hits you—ayato is here. beyond the question of how he has the time to visit you so unexpectedly, there’s the concern of what people might think if he’s seen here so late, standing outside your door.
“ayato? why are you here?” you look at him in confusion as you open the door, eyebrows furrowing as he smiles at you.
“well, hello. such an enthusiastic greeting you’ve afforded me,” he says playfully, making you roll your eyes. “won’t you even invite me in?”
“well, come on then,” you huff, “it’s always something or another with you.”
“whatever do you mean?” he gasps, a hand pressing to his chest in mock hurt, “i’ve simply come to have a heartfelt conversation.”
“at this hour?” you cross your arms, scoffing at his timing. still, you could never turn him away.
it’s not of any trouble to you—ayato knows it too. but there’s something oddly vulnerable about having him in your home, and unexpectedly at that. suddenly, everything feels out of place and untidy to you, a contrast to the large, sophisticated estate you’re sure he must be used to. you shift on your feet, feeling the scrutinizing gaze of someone as important as the yashiro commissioner, standing in your small home where you have nowhere to hide.
“ah,” he nods in amusement, “how impolite of me. shall i take my departure, then?”
“i could hardly turn the yashiro commissioner away without allowing him to speak,” you shake your head, fighting back a smile as he grins. “pray tell, what could have prompted such a spontaneous visit?”
“i’d like to ask for your hand,” he says bluntly.
you blink, gaping at him in disbelief. ayato has never been cruel—in fact, he’s always been much the opposite. especially to you. he’s become painfully important, a friendship you’ve never expected but cannot fathom existing without now that you have him.
but something about this feels cruel, like he’s aware of the deeper feelings you’ve accidentally let surface in the process, feelings you try to push back desperately. how could the yashiro commissioner be seen with someone so far from his realm? someone so disconnected from his world and status?
you furrow your brows, looking at him unimpressed as you murmur, “that’s hardly funny, ayato. be serious.”
“i am serious,” he tilts his head, “i, kamisato ayato, would like to ask for your hand, milady. if you would be so kind, that is.”
his hand is offered to you—and something in your aches to reach for it. to feel his fingers intertwined with yours, to feel the rough calluses of his hands from years of swordsmanship, to feel the gentle warmth of his palm pressed up against yours.
“i-in marriage?” you ask in utter confusion.
he chuckles, hand still outstretched as he raises an eyebrow. “well, i figured marriage would be a bit sudden, but far be it from me to deny such an enthusiastic idea.”
you’re not sure why (or maybe you are, and you simply hate to admit it), but there’s a burning sting in the back of your eyes. something bubbling between humiliation and hurt and flooding in the form of tears as you stare at him unsure if he’s lost his mind, or if he’s simply joking at your expense.
ayato has never made you feel like a victim of casual cruelty from his end, so a small part of you wonders if he’s truly serious. but the more logical part of you tells you that if not a mere attempt at playfulness, what else could this be?
“this isn’t funny,” you whisper, voice small. “i hardly find such pranks entertaining, ayato. i thought you to be better than that.”
it’s silent. deafeningly so, in fact.
his hand drops—slowly, hesitant as he eyes you in uncertainty. he takes a step towards you, closing the distance enough to notice every small detail of your face, but leaving enough of a gap so as not to overstep.
“i hardly find any entertainment in offering myself up, either,” he murmurs, “do reject me gently if you intend to. i’m afraid my age is catching up to me—i have a weak heart.”
“you’re hardly old,” you snort, watching him suppress a smile as he studies you. “you’re really being serious?”
“do you doubt me?”
“i suppose not,” you whisper. his hand extends to you again, something hopeful in his eyes, something almost desperate as he stares at you and waits for you to finally take it in your grasp.
your hand slowly finds his, fingertips grazing those calluses you’ve noticed for so long, rough and firm under the delicateness of your touch. finally, it hits you he came without gloves on, and you realize it must be for the chance of feeling your skin against his, bare touch with no fabric to separate either of you.
you feel him, taking in the years and years of training that show through such toughened skin, and he watches you carefully as you trace along his palm before flattening your own against him, slowly lacing your fingers together.
“i have found the man who attacked you,” he says quietly, “and i’m ashamed to admit the…unsavory methods i was prepared to take to punish his crimes.”
“i hope you wouldn’t stoop to such levels for me,” you say quietly.
“i fear there isn’t much i wouldn’t resort to for your safety,” he admits.
“i’m hardly worth such trouble,” you shake your head, smiling softly as you reach over and cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently against the mole you’ve always ached to feel. whether from the brush of your lips or from the graze of your thumb, you’ve always wondered how it’d feel. “there are much more worthy women to be the object of your affections, my lord.”
“ayato,” he corrects. it sounds like a plead, if you listen carefully. “and not to me,” he shakes his head. “it’s you i desire. i’m afraid i cannot concentrate on my duties until i have you. the nation shall befall a most unfortunate fate if i must suffer a single night more without having you.”
“i’m starting to think i am the only hope inazuma has left,” you roll your eyes, staring at him in wonder, “it seems it has fallen to me to ensure we have a functioning yashiro commissioner.”
“i do hope you’ll take such responsibilities seriously.” his hand lays over your own, keeping your touch in place as he leans his face into your palm further, closing his eyes and relishing in your touch.
“oh, ayato,” you chuckle breathlessly, eyes watery as you step closer, closing the gap until your chest presses against his. you wonder if he can hear the rapid thrumming of your heart, if he can feel it. “you’ll be the death of me.”
“i should hope not,” he chuckles, leaning closer and closer until his lips hover over yours, just a millimeter away from brushing against them, “i fear for my own sanity should such an ill fate come before you.”
“oh kiss me, you fool,” you scoff tiredly at his antics.
he doesn’t waste a moment, pressing his lips hungrily against yours, hands wandering to your waist and instantly pulling you closer, fitting his palm to cradle the small of your back. he chases your lips frantically when you pull away, a low grunt of disapproval rumbling from his chest before he plants his lips against yours once more. he kisses you like he’s crossed oceans upon oceans to find you, fixed on keeping you not more than a fingertips distance away at all times so that he’ll never lose you again.
and finally—finally, once he’s decided he’s sufficiently stolen the air from your lungs, he allows you to pull back and breathe.
“i’m afraid i can be a rather overbearing lover,” he murmurs against your lips, pecking them lightly. “you’ll hardly be free of me should i desire your company.”
you chuckle, leaning to kiss his mole softly, cradling his face. “i believe i’ll find a way to cope,” you grin.
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ayato was fun to write last time, and he was just as fun to write this time and i am realizing i have some real hidden feelings for the man the more i write him. i really enjoy doing his dialogue, though i’m not sure if i do it justice. i sure hope i do 🥹
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“WE’RE JUST FRIENDS, BUT…” — WRIOTHESLEY, NEUVILLETTE, ALHAITHAM, & KAMISATO AYATO
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aka the moment genshin boys realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re not “just friends” and maybe, just maybe, they’d like to be more. perhaps some day in the future they’ll tell you. part two of confessions here!
contains: female reader in all (nicknames such as madame and my lady), fluff, pining and realizing of feelings, wriothesley: mentions of fighting, blood, and injuries (pankration ring), reader is a doctor, neuvillette: mentions of being a mother figure to melusine’s (lots of melusine features!), reader works at the palais and can bake, alhaitham: drunk alhaitham, reader can cook, ayato: implied assassination attempt (canon typical yashiro commissioner life lol), reader wears a dress in and is very minimally attacked by an assassin while with him, ayato is as unhinged and low key crazy as ever, these all end with unresolved pining but they’re all very fluffy and hopeful i pinky promise
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“we’re just friends, but when i see her touch anyone else, it makes my skin crawl. shouldn’t she only touch me?” — WRIOTHESLEY
you’re just doing your job, he tries to tell himself. wriothesley knows that with your line of work, not touching anyone would be next to impossible. the fortress is blessed to have such a dedicated and knowledgeable doctor to help out the head nurse, and it’s admirable that you’ve given up broad daylight and a position at any respectable hospital in fontaine to tend to patients down here.
it’s admirable, and wriothesley appreciates it more than anyone else.
but the mind thinks what it thinks, and his can’t help but think how wonderful it would be if the only shirtless man you had to cleans wounds of was himself. not that he gets many wounds—he prides himself in his ability to knock an opponent out before they land a hit, but if someone were to be shirtless on the examination table with your delicate hands dabbing at small cuts, it should be him.
he stares daggers into the small gash his gauntlets seem to have made in his former opponent, watching as you gently clean the blood with careful precision. a part of him faintly registers that he should feel bad—as the duke, it���s his responsibility to make sure he never injures anyone in a good natured tournament, but this time was an accident. and he does feel bad. just not worse than the unexplainable weight at the bottom of his stomach that makes him feel almost nauseous. why does he feel nauseous?
“you’re all good to go,” you hum softly, “i would tell you to be careful next time, but i don’t think this has much to do with you as it does with other factors.”
you shoot wriothesley a pointed look as the man shrugs on his shirt, a dazed look on his features as he thanks you over stumbled words. wriothesley’s jaw tightens—it’s clear as day this patient of yours appreciates much more than your talents as a professional.
“it was an unfortunate accident,” wriothesley mumbles, “i’ll have to be more cautious next time, my apologies.”
“all good, boss,” the man waves off, and with a polite nod to you, he’s off. finally—wriothesley doesn’t think he could’ve left any faster.
“how can you hope to lessen patients in here if you’re the one sending them over?” you turn to him, making wriothesley fight back a small frown.
it must show anyway, because you giggle and poke his cheek as you walk over, speaking in between those melodious laughs as you tell him to stop pouting.
“i’m not pouting,” he scoffs, like the sentiment is preposterous, “and it was an accident. honest.”
“yes i know, your grace,” you tease. hearing such a title doesn’t usually do anything to him, but hearing it from you makes his heart flutter a tiny bit, in a way that makes the ends of his nerves tingle and the palms of his hands sweat just a bit. “but you should be more careful with those gauntlets next time, you know.”
and then, against his every expectation, there’s a gentle and steady hand on his face, cradling it ever so slightly as you tilt his head and inspect the small bruise forming on his jawline.
“you’re hurt too,” you say in concern.
wriothesley, if he wasn’t so busy trying to still his beating heart, would have laughed at the way your face seems devastatingly worried. he would have teased you at the way the sight of blood didn’t manage to crack your steady and firm composure, but somehow, the sight of a small patch of discolored skin has.
“nah, it’s just a small thing,” he waves off, “he caught me off guard after i noticed the blood. nothing i can’t handle.”
“let me ice it,” you insist, “i don’t want it swelling.”
“i’ll be fine, doc,” he chuckles—but he finds himself pausing when you look at him almost upset. has he really upset you? he’d never want to, especially not over something so trivial.
so he sighs, walking over to the table before letting himself take a seat.
“you should take care of yourself more,” you sigh, “i see now what sigewinne means when she says you don’t look after yourself like you should.”
“ah,” he grins, trying to avoid your knowing look when he winces a little at the action when a dull ache builds in his jaw, “i suppose my refusal to drink her…unique beverages have caught up to me.”
you laugh, a sweet and innocent sound that makes something under his ribcage tickle. your hand is back to gently cradling his cheek as you tilt his head again, angling it to hold a small ice pack to the small bruise.
“you seem tense,” you say thoughtfully, “don’t feel so bad. i’m sure those guys give themselves worse in the ring here and there.”
wriothesley feels bad, he really does. he would never purposely injure someone when he’s meant to be the warden that keeps things peaceful. the memory of you tending to the man sitting in his place just a few moments ago brings back another wave of bitterness, one that’s much more fleeting this time when he tells himself that now that he’s replaced the man with himself, things aren’t so bad.
it hits him then—with your hand on his cheek and an ice pack to a comically small bruise that you fuss over, that something in him craves more than just your touch when he’s injured. it hits him that anyone can be in his position, sat in front of you as you treat minor wounds with delicate care. he doesn’t want to be like anyone, he thinks.
he wants more—something he can only have for himself. something that’s crossing the line of this comfortable friendship you’ve seemed to build.
“hey,” you say softly, pulling him from his thoughts. your thumb traces the scar under his eye as if to ground him. something tells him you don’t do that for other patients, something a bit more intimate than a doctor would be with a normal patient. “what’s wrong?”
“it’s nothing, doc,” he hums lowly, eyeing you softly before he closes his eyes and lets out a soft breath. “you think my injury will be okay?” he asks with exaggerated concern.
you snort, shaking your head as you quip, “you’ll live. i hope.”
he chuckles at that. one of these days, when he’s a bit braver and a touch more in tune with his emotions about you, he’ll tell you how he feels. maybe he’ll have your touch outside of the clinic that way, something more personal, something more intimate.
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“we’re just friends, but she makes me wonder what it’s like to have my own family with her. is that normal?” — NEUVILLETTE
melusines are beautiful creatures. innocent and kind by nature, and certainly small enough that it only makes them seem that much more fragile. neuvillette has always had a soft spot for the species, from the way they cheerily call him monsieur neuvillette, to the way they happily skip over to him each time they approach him.
the people of fontaine are fond of melusines too. he’s happy with the sentiment—he knows more than anyone else that things weren’t always this way. but somehow, watching you like this, smiling endearingly at the melusines in front of you as you let them pour more water into your cup, he can’t help but find more solace in this moment than any other one.
“madame,” sedene calls, “it’s lovely you could have joined us today.”
you chuckle, sweetly petting her head and taking a sip from your glass as you murmur, “it’s certainly a pleasure. though, i hope i’m not intruding, monsieur,” you look at neuvillette with a polite smile.
“no, of course not,” he returns the gesture, “on the contrary, we’re delighted to have you today.”
neuvillette regularly allows the melusines in his office in the afternoon. it starts one day when they insist he take a break, entering his office and pulling out sweets and tea to enjoy (he only drinks water, but they happily finish what he does not have.) the tradition is born ever since, a daily routine to allow himself a short break, one filled with the excited chatter of small creatures he so fondly looks over as they snack away surrounding his desk.
you happen to walk in today, with files in your hand meant to be dropped off to the iudex, pausing as you take in the sight of tiny paws reaching over his desk to grab madeleines as they chat happily. suddenly, there are one too many small voices insisting you join among the chief justice himself, and soon, you find yourself with a chair pulled over for you, sitting between sedene and neuvillette.
it’s nice, he thinks, having you join. your company is refreshing to witness as you happily indulge the melusines in their chatter.
“madame?” blathine calls, pulling a soft hum from you as you turn your gaze to her, “would you join us tomorrow as well?”
you giggle fondly, taking a small bite from a madeleine as you think for a moment. “perhaps if my schedule is free and monsieur neuvillette is not too busy…”
“i assure you it’s of no trouble to me,” he insists, “this is a bit of a…routine activity,” he chuckles as he eyes the gathered crowd around his desk.
“then i’ll certainly make time,” you grin. he feels himself soften, an unrecognizable twinge of excitement settling into his bones at the words. of course, neuvillette looks forward to the company of the melusines daily, but the added news of you joining seems to make his heart swell in a way he doesn’t normally find happening.
before he can ponder why that is, another voice captures his attention.
“madame, will you make macarons again if you join us? it’s been a while since we’ve last tried them,” kiara asks excitedly.
neuvillette watches as something brightens in you at the question, your lips tugging into a wide grin as your eyes crinkle at the edges. you nod, looking affectionately at the little heads surrounding you as they stare at you hopefully.
“if you would like, of course. i’m happy you enjoyed them.”
“you’ve baked for them before?” neuvillette asks curiously.
you open your mouth to speak, but it’s hardly possible to utter a word when so many excited voices cut in before you can.
“oh yes, madame brings us sweets whenever she makes them!” aeval chirps.
“the strawberry ones are simply divine!” he turns to elphane as she tugs his sleeve, “you must try them, monsieur.”
“the chocolate ones are my favorite. madame, would you bring those too?” liath looks hopeful, brightening as you nod sweetly.
“i hope it’s not too much trouble,” sedene looks up at you, and with another chuckle, you pat her head once more as you shake your head.
“of course not,” you say fondly, “it’s a wonderful pastime, in fact. i’ll certainly bring them tomorrow.”
“be sure not to bring too many sweets yourselves then,” neuvillette says seriously, taking a sip of his water, “you don’t want to have too much sugar and make yourselves sick. and drink plenty of water. it’s good for you.”
you look at him amusedly at his words, tips tugging wider as you say, “it seems as though you’ve taken over a fatherly figure, monsieur. it’s unexpectedly endearing, i must admit.”
“madame! madame! would that make you like a mother figure too, then?” veleda’s words make you choke on the sip of water from your own glass, pulling a surprised blink from neuvillette himself.
you both fleetingly stare at each other from the corner of your eyes before you look down, chuckling nervously as he clears his throat, hoping the flush he seems to feel coating his cheeks is not too apparent.
“well, if you would like to consider me as such, i don’t mind,” you say carefully.
the melusines giggle—for such endearing creatures, neuvillette finds they can be mischievous in their own right as well.
“monsieur, what do you think of madame being a mother figure?” blathine asks innocently, blinking up at him through doe eyes.
“i, well…it’s certainly wonderful you find comfort in her to feel—”
“does that make madame your wife?” aeval squeals, “oh, monsieur, i thought you’d never find someone!”
this time, he’s certain there’s a dust of red coating his cheeks as you laugh softly, eyeing him in a mix of sympathy and amusement.
“now, now,” you call, “monsieur neuvillette and i get along, but our relationship is strictly professional.”
he watches as the melusines giggle behind their tiny paws. he’s certainly aware of their playful schemes, but perhaps…perhaps a small part of him doesn’t mind the thought of you in a romantic light—he’s certainly not practiced in such emotions, but there’s a squeeze in his heart as he thinks about how easy it is to feel like a family with you.
his hand itches to reach and squeeze yours under the table as you laugh happily with the creatures, and faintly, he wonders if this is normal—your words are true, are they not? the relationship between you is strictly professional isn’t it?
he takes a sip of his water, unsure of what the rapid beating of his heart indicates anymore.
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“we’re just friends, but i show up to her house every time i’m drunk. that doesn’t mean anything though, does it?” — ALHAITHAM
you open the door before he can even knock. his muddled brain should register that he should be embarrassed by that, but he’s too busy trying to keep his balance as he looks at you.
“oh haitham,” you chuckle, shaking your head, “i was wondering when you’d show up.”
“’m late?” he slurs, making you look at him in amusement as you gently grab his wrist and pull him in.
“did you have fun? you never stay out this long even at the tavern,” you murmur, gently helping him settle down on your couch.
there’s a glass of water waiting for him, one you delicately place to his lips and help him drink from as you sit next to him. even drunk, alhaitham can feel the searing burn of your thigh pressed against his—a heat he doesn’t mind, but it fogs his senses even more than they already are.
“beat cyno in tcg,” he says between sips, “i won.”
“good job,” you snort, “did he take it well?”
“no,” he laughs—it’s a giddy thing, one he lets out a bit more freely than his normal self would.
alhaitham is like that when he’s drunk: free and loose and something on the edge of vulnerable in a way you never get to see him. you smile at him, watching as he slumps back and sighs softly, rubbing his eyes.
“’m hungry,” he murmurs, making you roll your eyes fondly.
“i know,” you nod in amusement, “you practically eat my fridge whole every time.”
in the morning, alhaitham will be embarrassed. he’ll wake up on your soft couch and register that he’s done this again (most couches break his back, but yours somehow feels homely. soft and warm and smells like you to the point that he thinks it’s better than his own bed). he’ll tell himself that it won’t happen again next week, and that he’ll drink in moderation and force kaveh to bring him straight home—but somehow, just like the week before, he lands himself on your familiar couch, waking to the smell of coffee hitting his nose as you make it the way he likes.
it’s not a bad thing to get used to, in all truthfulness. but he’s no fool, he knows exactly what’s slowly developing in his stoic little heart, and he doesn’t think this build up of familiarity is helping his case any further. he doesn’t know if the build up exists for you either—maybe you’re just a nice enough person and good enough friend to let it all happen every week. just happy to give him a safe place to sleep the alcohol out from his system.
if he had a rational thought in his brain, maybe he’d ask you. blunt and to the point as he always is. but then again, even blunt and rational alhaitham gets bested by emotions every once in a while. especially the kind of emotions that are dangerously possible of being unrequited.
but regardless, rational alhaitham is out of the equation for now. right now, drunk, tired, hungry, and irrational alhaitham has taken over. he’ll have to worry about what drunk alhaitham does tomorrow when he’s sober, not right now.
“did you make my favorite?” he asks hopefully, almost childlike in the way his eyes peer at you as they wait for your answer.
they brighten when you nod, grinning as you say, “yes, i did. i always do, don’t i?”
“yeah,” he sighs contentedly, closing his eyes as he pulls the soft blanket you keep just for him over his body, a half-hearted attempt at covering himself as you slowly rise from his side.
the phantom linger of your thigh against his makes him realize he misses the touch, even if it clears his mind from the fog just a little to not be so near you.
“wait,” he says suddenly—you pause. he doesn’t know what’s compelled him to say that (he doesn’t know what compels him to do anything he does around you, but he’s here in this situation for that very reason, so there’s not much to be done there).
“yeah?” you say softly, waiting for him to speak.
“just…” he pauses. why did he stop you? is it because he has something to say? or is it simply because he knows as soon as you feed him dinner, he’ll pass out on your couch, and you’ll retire to your room for the night, and there will end the fleeting moment of having you all to himself? “just stay, that’s all,” he ends up saying.
archons know he’d never say that sober. it’s surprising enough as is when he’s drunk, but you don’t let the shock settle for long—endearment is quick to take over.
you snort before shaking your head, settling back down beside him as you whisper, “you’re the one who said you’re hungry.”
“i’ll eat later,” he frowns. you’re laughing at him, aren’t you? he should be embarrassed, maybe. but that touch of your thigh is back, and he can’t think straight enough to keep his sense of humility in tact.
“you know,” you murmur, delicately pushing back slightly sweaty hair from his flushed forehead, looking at him with enough care, he might think you feel the same if he wasn’t so drunk—but he’s simply too out of it to really understand what emotion your gaze holds. “if only you were as bold sober as you are drunk.”
he leans into your touch, closing his eyes and pressing into the warm embrace of your palm against his skin. it lingers—you don’t pull away any quicker than him, and the result is just a step closer that will only be two steps back by the morning.
still, the both of you enjoy it all the same.
“i’m bold all the time,” he insists.
“i wouldn’t say that,” you huff in amusement. “you don’t really speak your mind around me.”
“i do,” he argues, “i like coming here to you. you’re warm. and so is this couch. and your food’s good.”
“yeah?” you giggle, letting your fingers brush over his hair some more. he hums, nodding as he closes his eyes, yawning.
“mhm,” he barely gets out, “it’s the best part.”
“of what? drinking?”
“no,” he shakes his head, “of…of…i don’t know. just the best part.”
it’s the best part of my week, he’d tell you, if only the words could form on his tongue. he’s too blanketed by the embrace of your warmth and sleep to actually say them.
“tell me all this when you’re sober,” you whisper, tracing a thumb delicately over his cheek before you pull away, pulling the edges of the blanket along to cover him properly. he protests at the loss of your touch with a quiet sound, but sleep pulls him into its clutches quick enough that it doesn’t last too long. “maybe then, i’ll believe you when you say you’re bold all of the time.”
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“we’re just friends, but i’d kill just about anyone for her if they so much as look at her weirdly. i can get away with it, can’t i?” — AYATO
ayato thinks if anyone manages to assassinate him one day, then they should be allowed to get away with it with no consequences. by now, he’s confident enough that he’s honed his abilities to be sharp. so sharp, that anyone who manages to so much as touch him is an opponent who has earned to get away with their crimes.
you, however, do not apply to this sentiment.
anyone who so much as touches you, in his eyes, is worthy of far worse than just consequences. he thinks the shogun herself could not hope to save them from his blade.
but for now, there are other pressing matters than to pursue the individual who has managed to attack you on your evening stroll with him—he’ll have the shuumatsuban swiftly investigate and handle the culprit accordingly. for now, he’s more concerned with you.
“are you alright?” he asks gently, helping you stand as you slowly take his outstretched hand. there’s a small quiver in your hand as it clasps his, and his jaw grits slightly at the fact.
“yes,” you breathe quietly, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. ayato can detect it instantly, however. he’s good at reading anyone, but especially you. “i’m alright, my lord,” you reassure.
he frowns, for more reasons than one. “ayato,” he corrects, “no need for formalities.”
“oh, ayato,” you chuckle softly, despite the earlier distress in your features, “as much as you don’t care about appearances, i mustn’t be caught addressing the yashiro commissioner so…improperly. what would people think?”
“that you’re deeply familiar to the yashiro commission,” he says simply, “as you are. it’s only the truth.”
you hum, dusting off the dirt from your dress as you inspect your clothing of any tears. ayato keeps his hand securely on yours, and it doesn’t seem as though he’s looking to let go in the current moment—you don’t necessarily take it upon yourself to remove yourself from his grasp, either.
“well, that was quite the surprise, wasn’t it?” you try to poke fun at the situation, a light attempt to diffuse the clear tension in his brows and shoulders.
ayato doesn’t answer, only taking you in carefully himself, running his eyes up and down your figure as if to make sure there are no injuries for himself. he’s still as pristine as ever, you note—although, it’s not as though the attacker was even close to touching him. he’d retaliated faster than you had even registered there was someone else in your vicinity.
the thought makes you realize how accustomed he must be to assassination attempts—a thought that makes your face drop.
and it must be apparent too, because he asks, “why the long face, all of a sudden?”
you flush in embarrassment. he’s cunning as always, that one. always one step ahead and so good at reading you, you might think he himself holds the pen that writes your every move in crisp, clear scribbles.
“nothing,” you mumble, sighing softly as you shrug, “i suppose it only just dawned on me how effortlessly you evaded such a fate. it must be a normal occurrence for the yashiro commissioner if you’re so…prepared.”
“ah,” he grins, slightly amused as he chuckles, “i suppose it is, yes. nothing to concern yourself over, on the contrary. i am very well prepared, indeed. however, i hadn’t prepared well enough for this stroll it seems, my lady. you must forgive me—next time, i’ll have the shuumatsuban keep an eye out as well.”
“i feel safe enough in your company alone, my lor—ayato,” you correct yourself as soon as you notice the smile drop from the corners of his mouth, “but i can’t help but feel regretful that it’s normal for you to assign additional help to ensure the safety of those close to you. it shouldn’t be necessary for you to be so cautious simply for holding people dear.”
“and do you feel as such?” he teases, “that i hold you dear?”
your face feels hot to the touch, you think, heat creeping to your ears as you look away and clear your throat. ayato is a quick witted man, his words as sharp as ever, meant to apply pressure to the weakest of points.
you’re no exception, it seems. though, he has a bit of a softer approach with you.
“w-well, we’re certainly not strangers,” you huff, “if someone as busy as the yashiro commissioner sets aside time to take an evening stroll with me, i would hope it’s safe to assume we’re quite dear friends.”
friend is starting to seem like a generous word. ayato is a good man, respectable and compassionate enough that he can maintain such a powerful position free of any corruption. but he realizes that respect and compassion are difficult to maintain when it comes to someone harming you.
he wonders, for a brief, fleeting moment, if he could be trusted to keep a calm composure if he were to come face to face with whoever attacked you in the future.
he thinks there’s a large chance that the answer is no, and he’s oddly not bothered by the idea at all.
“i do hold you quite dear,” he says kindly, voice softening an octave, “it is why i must ensure your safety. rest assured, events like today’s won’t happen again.”
“i hope you put as much energy into your own safety,” you counter, “i think inazuma would suffer more greatly if anything were to happen to you, rather than me.”
“i would disagree,” he says with an amused grin, “what disarray the nation would befall if the yashiro commissioner was grief stricken, don’t you think? unable to perform his duties.”
“would you grieve me so deeply, ayato?” it’s your turn to tease, stepping closer as you eye him with playful mischief, “would my absence alone call for the downfall of the nation? then it would only be proper of me to look after myself more carefully, if that’s the case.”
“yes,” he says softly, hesitant for a moment as though admitting as such is enough to admit the more…complicated feelings in his heart. “there is nothing i wouldn’t do to ensure your safety.”
he says the words a touch too seriously—it shocks even him. surely, if limits simply don’t exist if it comes to you, friend is not a term deep enough to truly describe what you are to him.
he wonders if friend feels as much of an injustice to your relationship to you as it does to him.
“i would grieve you too, ayato,” you admit, squeezing the hand he never pulled away, “would you keep yourself safe just for me?”
“do you doubt me?” he chuckles, raising an eyebrow, “i’ve never failed thus far, have i?”
“perhaps not,” you hum, stepping closer, “but just to be sure.”
“then for you,” he carefully pulls you along, falling back into step with you as his hand keeps yours still firmly in his grasp, “i will ensure my own wellbeing just as sacredly as yours.”
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someone revoke my access to the word “fond” this instant. i think i got whiplash from how often i used it but i literally don’t know what other word describes “fond” as good as “fond” 😭 anyway!!! kamisato “i would draw my blade to the shogun herself for my love” ayato!!! what a man!!!
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00. THE COOLEST IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD
SYNOPSIS — You don't know anything about soccer, but you do know Sae Itoshi. He's pretty cool. His brother thinks so you're pretty cool too.
note: first post!!! hi guys im iliverae bel !!! omg !!! anyways i miss the itoshi siblings so much hguuhu why wont they be happy
wc ; 2.2 k
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"Mama... I don't want to." With your mother's larger hand gripped tightly in your own, tinier one, you tug on her pointer finger with a chubby pout. She looks down at you, age 5, with a smile, pinching your palm lightly.
"It'll do you good to have some friends, baby. Just spend some time with him."
You look down, cheeks puffed out and feeling frustration well up in your small, childish mind. You didn't want to! You wanted to go home and play with your dolls, not spend time with a stupid, probably stinky boy.
Your other friend, who was a nice girl, told you that guys have a weird sickness that makes everything they touch stinky, so you were a little scared.
You stand in front of the door, a little over triple the size you were, behind your mother's legs and still holding tightly onto her hand. Your tiny heart races in your chest when the door suddenly swings open, and there stands another woman. She's the same giant height as your mom, with pretty teal eyes and dark hair.
The thing that catches your eyes, however, is the thing standing behind her. Around your height—maybe a little smaller, Sae was always a small kid—and holding onto a weird checkered ball tightly in his arms. He didn't look the least bit embarrassed to see you, only looking up at the conversation the adults were taking part in and pretending to listen.
"Right!" The other woman smiles and her hand falls on top of the red head of hair. "Sae really wanted somebody to play with, since little Rin is far too small to even think about holding a soccer ball, haha. It'll be nice to sit down for a while and chat instead of running around outside kicking a ball around."
"Oh no, I get that," Your mom laughs, and you step out from behind the wall of her legs and tug her shorts when she speaks again, hand atop your hair, "Our tea parties are very eventful, but maybe some sport wouldn't do too badly."
Sport? Tea parties? You wanted to have a tea party, but not with this weird boy, who was now kicking that ball up and down leisurely.
"Sae!" The call of that name—it's probably his—catches the boy's attention, and he looks up at his mom, big eyes blinking. She looks down at him fondly, "Will you take [name] outside? Be nice to her, and don't play too rough. If she doesn't want to play soccer, don't force her."
He blinks silently a little longer, before he looks down—at you—and then back to his mother and he nods. She smiles, patting his head before bending down and smooching a kiss on his forehead, "Thank you."
He scrunches his little nose up and starts wiping the place where his mother kissed with pink cheeks, face all puffed up and chubby-and you giggle.
You didn't smell anything too bad. Actually, his house smelt like lavender and jasmine. It was nice. Maybe your friend was wrong.
Your little fit of giggles catches Sae's attention, and he looks over at you—where you were moving away from your mother with a little bit of encouragement from her—you stand in front of Sae, clad in your pink stripey dress with white stockings-you smile at him, toothy and cute.
"Go on," his mother steps out of the doorway, and Sae turns around, looking over his shoulder at you.
"Follow me." He says, speaking for the first time you've ever heard. His voice sounds much different from those of your girlfriends, but it's not deep by any means. It's actually squeaky. You comply and as he rushes down the hallway with pitter-patter steps, you, in your tiny Mary Jane's, follow.
You don't even glance back at your mother as she smiles when you're rushing behind the smaller Sae Itoshi.
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡
You follow the redhead, right up until he leads you outside (with much struggle opening the screen door—he was about to burst into tears until his mother rushed over and opened it for him), where you two stand in the warm sunlight.
You two rush past some garden beds filled with all sorts of vibrant flowers, various pots and gnomes, and even an outdoor lounge set until you're both on a large, green field. Two goalposts on either side were already set up—tiny goalposts, fit for somebody of your size.
"What's soccer?" You ask with your head tilted and tiny pigtails on either side of your head moving with you.
Sae furrows his little, red brows and his teal eyes squint angrily, "How do you not know what soccer is?! It's the best sport in the whole wide world!" With his brash tone and squished up, frustrated little face—it would've been more believable if you'd just told him he was a "poopy-head" rather than this.
"I don't play sport," You frown, shuffling your feet on the grass. "I like playing with my dolls."
"Dolls are boring," He kicks the soccer ball up and balances it on his toes. You're impressed by this show, but you can't let him see (lest his pouty expression grow coy), only turning your head and glancing subtly.
"Nuh-uh! They're so fun! I bet soccer is super boring!" You stick your tongue out at him. He huffs, catching the soccer ball and holding it under his arm. Sae seems to take heavy offence to your statement, cheeks puffed out, baby fat accentuating his cute, child-like features.
"That's not true!" His voice makes you jump a little, and he moves closer to you, looking directly into your eyes. "If you play it, you'll totally see it's not boring at all!"
"I dun' wanna." You shake your head, crossing your arms. "You said dolls were boring."
Sae frowns, looking down. He grabs his chubby hands together and fiddles with his fingers. "Fine... Dolls aren't that boring. I'll play dolls with you later if you play soccer wit' me now."
Your eyes light up and you smile wide, toothy and excited, "Okay! You have to promise to do a tea party with me!"
Sae looks embarrassed at the prospect, turning around and rushing after the soccer ball as he calls out, "Fine! But you needa play with me!"
"Okay!" You rush over to where he stands, in the middle of the field with the soccer ball on a white circle. "What do I do?!"
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡
Your little foot misses the ball completely, and you slip, falling onto your butt on the grass. You let out a shrill scream of frustration, eyes narrowing at the ball and you glare, "Soccer sucks!"
Sae glares at you from where he stands in front of the goal, on the small field, he runs over quickly to where you planted yourself on the grass, "Hey! You're just bad at it!"
You huff, folding your arms over your chest and shuffle around with your legs so you're not facing him, "No! This game is just the worst!"
"No, look." He runs over to the goal you're facing, the ball in tow in front of him, and he kicks it with the side of his shoe, and it flies into the goal. You watch with wide, starry eyes at his goal—you're sure it is the most amazing thing you have ever seen.
"Woah... cool..."
He turns around, hands on his hips proudly and chest puffed up, cheeks pink with your praise, "Cool, right?! Soccer is super cool. You're just not cool enough for it yet."
You stand up, tiny hands balled into fists in front of you while you defend yourself, "What?! I'm cool!"
"Then you should get good at soccer, cuz then, you'll be the coolest." He pokes his nose up in the air, eyes shut closed. "Like me."
Sae Itoshi is undeniably cocky and perhaps, even at the ripe age of 5, he is too egotistical for his own good. You are completely and utterly aware of this fact. Even so, when you stare at him, you can't seem to pull your little eyes away.
You look at where the sun shines from behind his head—even though he's wearing a stupid Transformers t-shirt, and his bangs are choppy and frankly, really ugly, you look at his chubby face, and you believe him.
Your eyes sparkle, and your cheeks grow pink.
That was the day you realised Sae Itoshi was the coolest in the whole entire world.
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡
From the safe cradle of his mother's arms, Rin wordlessly and mindlessly wakes up from his nap, eyes opening slowly. He's yawning, and the two mothers are fawning over his cuteness. It's not every day Rin gets to sit in his mother's grasp like this, because of how Sae is always stealing her away to play some sport with him, but it's not like Rin holds any contempt towards his older brother for it.
He loves his older brother—and that's why he wonders what's so different about today. Sae spends every waking moment playing this sport, soccer, and every chance he gets, he asks their parents to play with him. When his father was home, he would ask him. When he wasn't, he would ask their mom.
Their father was at work right now—so why hadn't Sae come running up to ask? This is what makes Rin start squirming in his mom's grasp and reaching his hands out in the direction of the screen door, crawling across the couch towards it when she lets him go.
"Do you wanna go outside, Rinnie?" His mother asks him sweetly, looking down at her two-year-old son. "You can play with your big brother if you ask him nicely."
Rin can talk, easily, but all he does is make a muffled "mm" sound (you know the one that babies make) before getting up off his knees and rushing outside, feet only clad in socks as he runs on the concrete.
He only stops when he's right on the edge—a step forward would plant him on green grass. He looks up and sees his older brother rushing after a girl, who he has never seen before. With frilly socks and black leather shoes, a flowy pink dress and a pretty ribbon in your hair—the way you twinkle in the sunlight—Rin thinks you must be the prettiest thing he's ever seen.
You slam the tip of your shoe into the ball, and it goes flying into the goal before Sae even has a chance to stop it—and you cheer. You raise your fists into the air and giggle, jumping up and down with excitement. Your hair flutters alongside you with your movements, "Sae! Sae! Look! I did it! I got the ball in! I'm so cool!"
He pouts, crossing his arms and looking away, "It wasn't that cool..." But with his tone—it's easy to sense the jealousy. Rin sees you wrap your arms around his older brother in a tight hug from the side—you only giggle when he tries to push your face back, away from his.
You both look excited... Rin wants to celebrate with you two as well. He ignores the prickle of grass under his grey socks and rushes over—tiny steps making a little pitter-patter sound until he stands in front of you and Sae. He looks up, eyes wide and sparkly, and the laughing in your mouth dies down at the sight of the little child in front of you.
Your arms are still wrapped around Sae's shoulders—you look at him and ask, "Is this your brother?"
Sae groans, obviously annoyed and he looks away, "Ugh... Rin, get off the field."
Not understanding Sae's words, he keeps blinking wordlessly up at you two. Rin tilts his head to the side and clutches the bottom of his blue hoodie. Sae keeps glaring at him, arms crossed. "Rin, go away. You can't play with us."
You remove yourself from Sae and give him a look—especially when the words start sinking into Rin and his eyes grow glassy and wobble, "Hey! Why not?!"
"Cuz he's a baby! I dun wanna play with babies," Sae huffs, turning his head away. Rin starts wailing at his words, tears running down his cheeks and dripping onto the grass below. The elder Itoshi rolls his eyes and turns away, stomping towards the forgotten ball. "See, he's crying!"
"He's crying cuz you're mean!" You glare at the older brother, then look down towards Rin, who's still sobbing, but quietly now. He looks so much like your younger cousin, who you spend so much time with at family get-togethers, that you can't help but lean down and wrap your arms around him. "Dun worry... Sae's a big fat jerkface. He's a huge meanie pants."
Your voice is a low whisper, and Rin grips the back of your dress with even tinier hands. Rin sniffles and the tears slowly stop pouring down his cheeks at your comfort. His lips tremble and he looks up at you, tears clumping his long lashes together and glittering in the sun, "R... really?"
"Yeah!" You pull away, taking your comfort with you—you don't see how Rin makes a gurgled baby noise and grabby hands at you—and place your hands on your hips. "I bet you could be a really cool soccer player too! Like me! I'mma convince Sae to let you play, promise!"
You giggle, jotting your thumb towards yourself.
Rin looks up at you, big blue eyes sparkling from the sunlight that you emit, and the way your hair flutters behind you in the soft wind. His cheeks are puffed out and his hands are clutching the ends of his blue hoodie when he stares.
His eyes are sparkling, and his cheeks grow pink.
That was the day Rin Itoshi realised that you were the coolest in the whole entire world.
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˖⁺ ⊹୨ Y2KISSME ! ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ━━ kinktober 2023 !
let’s kick it back to the year two thousand, but this time it’s wetter, wilder and raunchier aka the sexier versions of your fav y2k films.
୨୧ — NOTES. here it is my loves!! kinktober 2023. i hope you guys like it i’m super excited. some things might be scrapped but idk !! we’ll see. click here ! to join the taglist. rbs are totally fetch ! ♡ ⋆。˚
୨୧ — RATED R: the following films contain nsfw and dark themes. fem!reader. each fic comes with its own warnings. ugh, as if ! minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact.
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╰₊✧ OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES - starring; satoru gojo ! ྀི
movie contents: thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown…
KINK: breeding ft. spit, infidelity, agoraphilia, daddy kink, baby trapping, breast play, royalty!au.
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╰₊✧ OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS - starring; katsuki bakugou ! ྀི
movie contents: in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore!
KINK: free use ft. dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia.
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╰₊✧ OCT 8TH 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS - starring; yoichi isagi ! ྀི
movie contents: if winning a street race means getting ravaged by your ex boyfriend over the hood of your car then… move bitch! get out the way!
KINK: overstimulation ft. scratching, car sex, public sex, food play, sweat kink, dry humping.
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╰₊✧ OCT 16TH CLUELESS - starring; megumi fushiguro ! ྀི
movie contents: are you totally buggin’ or is your college-goer, goody two shoes step-brother kinda into messing around with you?
KINK: step cest ft. photos, videos, soft sex, praise kink, body worship, panty sniffing, stuffed animals.
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╰₊✧ OCT 23RD JENIFER'S BODY - starring; eijirou kirishima ! ྀི
movie contents: there’s something weird going on with you. you’re like…actually evil. not college girl evil, and it’s kinda hot.
KINK: monsterfucking ft. gags, claiming, choking, branding, blood kink, cock warming.
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╰₊✧ OCT 31ST LEGALLY BLONDE - starring; seishiro nagi ! ྀི
movie contents: there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…
KINK: coercion ft. dumbification, overstimulation, mind break, oral fixation, cherry chasing, power imbalance.
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╰₊✧ BONUS CHARLIE'S ANGELS - starring; bakugou, kirishima ‘n midoriya ! ྀི
movie contents: your three precious angels deserve a little reward for all the hard work that they do, don’t you think, charlie?
KINK: gangbang ft. dvp, frottage, blowjobs, voice kink, running a train.
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꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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Saving up
word count; 2761 – f!reader, this is not my best writing but I got the idea and just had to write it
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Ever since your first year in high school, you thought Kunimi Akira was shy. He didn’t interact with many people and you could barely imagine what his voice sounded like if you tried to. Then you became desk mates for your second year and you weren’t so sure anymore, because now you heard his voice all the time.
The volleyball player would rest his elbow on his desk and lean a cheek on his hand so he could look over at you, who diligently tried taking notes. Your class had a study hour halfway through the day to ensure your notes were up to date before going to lunch, but Kunimi often used it to sleep. Often, but less frequently this year.
When he didn’t sleep, he was watching you. Now and then, he would reach over with a pencil in his hand to draw something stupid that messed up your perfect notes. Sometimes it was just a line across the page and other times it was simple drawings.
You would glare sideways at him, holding your pen up like it was a weapon and it never failed to make him smile. “Sorry, I thought those were my notes.” he would say, so shamelessly teasing you and sticking his tongue out.
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People in your class had noticed how the two of you started spending time together even when you didn’t have to, like how you would come over at lunch to give him the juice box he ‘accidentally’ left behind on his desk. Or how he would come slightly late to practice because you asked him to help with a subject he was better at.
A couple of friends started teasing you about it, mentioning how the two of you kept acting all cute and how disgusting it was. You laughed with them, but you weren’t sure if you should. Was this anything more than Kunimi distracting himself from boredom? You couldn’t call what you had very romantic yet, which it didn’t have to be, but you had hope brewing in your stomach that this might turn into something. You’re quite the hopeless romantic.
“Speaking of dating, what’s you guys’ dream date?” one of your friends asked before scooping a spoon of yoghurt into her mouth. “Because I would love a romantic picnic in my near future.”
Your friends all pitched in as the conversation focused on one person at a time until it ended up on you. Unbeknownst to you, Kunimi strained every muscle to hear your answer from where he sat just a few tables away. “I think an art museum would be cute. You can take nice pictures and either make fun of the paintings or appreciate them. Then maybe go for hot chocolate after.” you explained, fiddling with your fingers as your eyes lit up from imagining it. That was your style. Kunimi nodded to himself and mentally pressed save on the information.
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When the volleyball tournament started, your friends asked to go see the school’s team in action, and you perked up when you remembered Kunimi was on the team. You nodded eagerly and all of you made plans to go after school. It was lonely during the school day as you kept glancing at the empty desk beside you. Somewhere out there Kunimi was playing volleyball while you were stuck here without him.
All of you rushed out of the classroom as soon as classes ended, switching into outdoor shoes before making your way to the bus stop. You could definitely be accused of looking a bit too excited.
It wasn’t the most crowded game, so you found some good seats and the team was already playing. Your cheers blended into the classic school cheer, filling you with school spirit. There was no use denying that your eyes were stuck on Kunimi, but you noticed how he wasn’t giving it his all. This made you frown, curious as to why when you knew how much he liked the sport.
It was the third set and all the other players were getting visibly tired as their legs fought against them and their sweat seemed to be flying.
But not Kunimi. You watched as Yahaba, the setter, started setting up even more attacks for Kunimi. Subconsciously, you started leaning forward in your seat and got even more engaged, excitedly yelling his name whenever he scored a point. When his teammates patted him on the back, you finally saw that smile. The smile he would give you when he seemed proud of your reaction to his teasing. An excited smile.
“That’s typical Kunimi,” one of your friends said. She had been following the volleyball team closely because of her interest in the sport. Despite getting rejected from the manager position, she still came to watch, which you admired greatly. The hope of Aoba Johsai going to nationals didn’t end with Oikawa.
“How so?” you asked, hoping she could hear you over the crowd.
“He always saves his energy, acting all lazy for the first sets and then using that energy when everyone else gets tired.”
“Oh, how interesting.”
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When the games finished for the day, Aoba Johsai had still not lost. You and your friends were walking out of the building and you listened with a grin as they kept excitedly discussing the highlights of the last game until you heard someone calling your name.
You turned around, eyes scanning the area until they settled on Kunimi. Your face lit up and your guy friend made kissy noises before one of the girls hit him over the head. Agreeing with on where to meet them later, you met Kunimi halfway. “Hi,” he breathed out.
“Hey. You were great!” was all you mustered to say, feeling a bit shy even though he didn’t know how hard you had been staring at him earlier.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” he said, squinting at you accusingly.
“We decided on it earlier today,” you told him, looking to the side for a second as you hesitated. “I got lonely without my deskmate.”
Kunimi cursed his ears which suddenly felt a bit too warm. Is there a chance you came to see him? He knew he had to go back to the team any second now, so he cleared his throat to break the spell you put him in. “I’ll be back to bother you soon,” he assured you, making you chuckle.
“Hopefully not too soon, you guys need to go to nationals!” you said encouragingly, leaning on the pads of your feet.
He nodded, glancing over his shoulder and back at you. “Fine, but I miss you too.” You hadn’t even said you missed him, but the sentiment was there. Hearing him say it so directly made your heartbeat quicken and you weren’t sure what to say.
A silence fell over you as you leaned a bit closer. Kunimi slowly put his arms around your back and yours went around his neck as you pulled each other in for a soft hug. It recharged your battery and you could swear you heard him take in a deep breath before you pulled away. A bit awkwardly, you stepped back from each other.
“Good luck tomorrow, Kunimi.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”
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Kunimi had the faintest thought that he might have jinxed it as they were on the bus back to the school. They lost in the second game of the day, not even making it to the finals. He should be frustrated. He should be so angry that they were defeated, but he wasn’t. Because the next school day, he could meet up for class and see you.
You didn’t mention their loss, which he appreciated since he wasn’t sure how to explain that it didn’t bother him that much. It did irk him how your smile still seemed a bit more pitiful than sweet, so Kunimi tried to do everything like you always did. Draw in your book, bump your arm and steal sips from your iced tea. Thankfully, it seemed to work, as you gradually got back to your normal teasing and Kunimi could hear your laugh again.
At some point, the doodles he left in your book moved from where they ruined your notes to where there was still space left as if he wanted you to leave them there. You paused for a second instead of pretending to attack him. Then Kunimi would watch with interest as you started adding to his drawings, making them more detailed or into something completely different. It was fun, knowing he could steal your attention away like that. Maybe this is working out.
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“Would you teach me to play volleyball?” you asked him one day, quite suddenly, which made him choke on the iced tea because he tried to speak at the same time. “Karma,” you mumble, smirking and taking your bottle back.
“You want to learn volleyball?”
”That’s what I said.” He stared at you for a moment before shrugging.
That’s how you ended up outside of the gym before his practice. He told you someone was using the gym for extra practice, so you just asked to borrow a ball and went outside instead. The weather was quite nice, and you were not that used to seeing Kunimi with the sun on his face. It suited him.
He showed you how to receive, telling you to squat a bit with the ball instead of flailing your arms too much. It kind of worked out. The ball eventually started moving back towards him after a lot of laughter and attempts. Yahaba walked past at some point and did a dramatic double-take when he saw who was spending extra time practising. And with a girl, nonetheless. He totally took a picture for the group chat that Kunimi would shamelessly save later.
After doing this for a while, he asked you to try and bump it a bit higher. You tried with a focused look on your face and it went off a bit to the side, so he moved to catch it. “If you get it up above my head,” he gestured where his arm to show you. “I can set it up for you. Then you hit it with your palm like bam to spike it back,” he instructed, demonstrating with the ball.
You nodded, still unsure if you would be able to, but you were a bit excited to try. Using some beginner’s luck, you managed to bump it up high enough for him to set. Your eyes were glued to the ball as it came back towards you. You lifted your arm and hit your palm against it, watching it fly sharply back at Kunimi.
“Grea-” Right into his forehead. You covered your mouth with a gasp, running over to where he was now holding his head.
“I’m so sorry, Kunimi!” you yelled, holding his shoulders to make him look at you as you begged for forgiveness. “I didn’t even think I would hit it.”
“I didn’t think you would either,” Kunimi teased with a slight strain in his voice from the pain, naturally resting his free hand on your hip. When he finally removed the hand from his face, you winced at the red mark on his forehead. He was moving his face weirdly as if checking all the parts were still there, and it was so cute that you weren’t sure if you were breathing at that moment. “At least you didn’t get my nose,” he said, laughing a bit which made you smile, relieved.
“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he assured you, suddenly very aware of how close you stood and how you were holding each other. He stuttered and you noticed at the same time, making the both of you take a step away from each other. Your cheeks were burning from the embarrassment of hitting him with the ball like that and then this. “I have practice now, though. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you.”
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Once again, your friends were teasing you relentlessly. “You hit him in the face?” Their cackles rang through the air and you hid your face in your hands.
“I forced him to teach me just so I could spend time with him and then I bruised his perfect forehead, what’s wrong with me?” you complained, definitely feeling a tad dramatic.
“Shut up. He was probably thrilled that you took the initiative, that lazy bastard.” someone said, and you lifted your head to glare at him for the comment. Taking in a deep breath, you cross your arms on the table and lean on them.
“I want to kiss his pretty lips so bad but I’m not even sure he likes me like that,” you mumbled.
“Now that is just pathetic,” another friend answered. Brutal. “He obviously likes you, now stop talking to us about your dreams and start chasing them.”
You looked across the cafeteria, finding the guy with the middle part who looked bored as he listened to a friend talking. “I just want that little bit of extra effort, you know?”
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“Why haven’t you asked her out? I’m pretty sure she would say yes,” Kindaichi wondered as the two were getting ready for another practice.
“It’s not the right time yet,” Kunimi answered, not sparing his friend a glance.
“Don’t tell me you’re saving your energy until the last round for dating, too,” Kindaichi said, some disbelief painted between the words because he hoped that wasn’t the truth. He thought you deserved better than that, but then again, who was he to judge?
Kunimi frowned, mumbling something under his breath and putting his jersey on. “Not really, I was saving up money.”
Kindaichi looked confused. “How’s that relevant?”
“She told her friends she wanted to go to an art museum,” he said under his breath because he didn’t want anyone to overhear. “If I went all out and asked her out right away, we couldn’t go where she wanted.”
Now Kindaichi was glad he wasn’t currently dating anyone, because how could he compare to this? He didn’t think Kunimi would ever beat him in effort. “So, you’re still saving up for the first date?” he asked, checking if he heard him correctly.
Kunimi finally smiled a bit, lifting two pieces of paper, tickets, to show them off. “Just got them, now I just need to ask.”
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“I was wondering if you would like to go with me to the art museum tomorrow,” he asked, holding out two tickets for you to see. It was for the best museum you could go to from where you were, which you had been eyeing and wondering if you should go to even if you had to go alone. You looked at the tickets in his hand and then back up at him with the most entrancing sparkly eyes he had ever seen. That’s what gave him the guts to add “As a date.”
“That sounds perfect, Kunimi.” You slung your arms around his waist in a hug and he hugged you back, making his soft chuckles ring in your ear while his breath hit your neck. It gave you goosebumps and you stayed in the hug for a second longer than necessary just to enjoy it.
Indeed, it was perfect. The two of you took lots of pictures, getting all the best angles for Instagram and laughing at the bad ones. Kunimi wasn’t the most educated on art, but he liked hearing you talk about it. You were watching a particularly grand painting, giving him your thoughts on the artist’s mindset while painting it. When you looked over to see if he was following, he was already looking at you like you were the one who painted it. He laced his fingers with yours, holding your hand through the whole thing and sometimes making funny comments when the artworks were especially difficult to defend. When you were done, you could truly say it was everything you imagined and more. Kunimi could confidently admit he never spent his money on anything better.
And after you treated the two of you to hot cocoa, he followed you home. At your door, he reached around your back like he had done before, but instead of tucking his head in your neck, he put his lips on yours. What a sweet kiss it was, satisfying every dream you had about it.
Kunimi was never shy or too lazy. He just saved up to get you what you deserved.
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<900 words. a belated bday gift. f!reader. reader is sick (is me). divider by @/cafekitsune!
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Sakusa returns home at precisely 11:24 p.m. 
He tries to be as quiet as possible as he steps into the apartment, knowing you're probably asleep — at least, it's what you should be doing since you're sick, but he wouldn't be surprised if you’re still awake reading webtoons or something.
Still, he does everything as delicately as he can, from softly shutting the entryway closet after he hangs his coat, sliding into his house slippers and tiptoeing into the kitchen, setting down a gift bag with minimal rustling and slowly flipping the light switch instead of letting it flick on loudly. 
He nearly jumps when you suddenly cough from somewhere nearby. He flips on another light and sees your body shaking from your coughs on the couch. 
“Babe?” you groan sleepily.
“I’m here, love,” he calls, filling up a mug with water. He kneels in front of you, feeling helpless when your worn gaze meets his. “Drink.”
You sit up gingerly and accept the mug, taking a few gulps before you sigh. “Thanks,” you croak, your voice sounding rough from whatever virus has been wreaking havoc on your immune system over the past few days. “You're back early.” 
“It's nearly midnight.”
“But it's your —” You whip around to throw your coughing fit at the space next to you instead of him — “your birthday!”
“But you're sick,” he says matter-of-factly, pushing your hair from your face to give your forehead a feel. No fever, good. “Didn't want to leave you alone for too long.”
You slip on a medical mask over your pout. “Sorry.”
“Why?”
“You couldn't stay out cuz of me.”
He shakes his head with a chuckle, and sits down next to you. “It's Wednesday. No one stays out late on a Wednesday night.”
“True.” You look up at him with your sleepy eyes and he can't help but plant a kiss on your forehead for looking so cute. 
“Don't,” you protest weakly, “you're gonna get sick.”
“A small price to pay.”
You roll your eyes before snuggling into his side. “Did you have fun though?”
He shrugs. “It wasn't bad.” It would have been better if you were with him and his friends, especially since you were the one who planned the night, but he keeps that to himself since you had to convince him — practically beg him — to go enjoy himself without you earlier. 
“And I got you something.”
You make a small excited noise, and he slips away to retrieve the gift bag he'd brought home with him from the arcade bar. You'd been eyeing the Kuromi plushie since the last time you were both there for a date, and after several rounds of Fruit Ninja with Bokuto and Atsumu’s help, he finally had enough points for it. 
You hug the plushie to your chest. “Next time we go, I’ll have enough points for Badtz Maru.”
He smiles and reaches for your hand. “Come, time for bed.”
“Wait,” you command, and he does as you scurry away, returning a few moments later with a small cake, topped with a single lit candle. 
“Now before you scold me, I did not leave the house. I had this delivered.” 
“Good job,” he chuckles. It was what he had asked of you in exchange for you making him go out with his friends without you — that you’d stay home and actually rest. Technically, this means that for part of the evening you were on your phone and had to stay awake for the cake delivery, but he can't find it in him to chide you. 
And when your cheeks rise behind your mask and the corners of your eyes crinkle as you hold the cake up to him, he thinks this is all he’ll ever need for his next birthdays: you and a candle to blow out. 
“Happy birthday, lover.”
He wraps an arm around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair before blowing out the candle. “You didn't have to.”
“But I wanted to,” you retort lightly, taking the cake back to the kitchen. “I had to do something besides being half-alive for your birthday.”
He laughs, taking the cake from you to set it on the counter so he can take both of your hands in his. “You being alive at any amount is enough for my birthday.”
“Stop,” you whine half-heartedly.
“I mean, it’d be better if you were healthy, but,” he swings your arms a little, “this is good.”
“You're being mushy again.”
“And you love it.”
Your eyes crinkle again as you give his hands a squeeze. “And when I get better, you're gonna pay for it.”
With a smirk, he cocks an eyebrow. “But what better time than the present —”
You all but throw his hands aside as you spin away from him for another violent coughing fit. He readies another cup of water at your side, patting your back helplessly as each cough wracks through your body. 
And at the end of it, you give him a wry look over your shoulder. “Do you still wanna —”
He takes you by the elbow and sets the cup in your hand. “Let’s just wait ‘til you're better.”
“Good plan.”
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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ hit it till you catch a cramp
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synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ being intimate with wriothesley doesn't always go as planned. // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡
cw. rough syx, sweaty, awkward sex moment with the duke himself, fem! reader ♡
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soft lips press against your forehead as wriothesley drags his hips against you with one heavy roll forward— and he's greedy, what more was there to expect when he hasn't seen you all week and could only dream on how you'd feel wrapped around him, with your walls twitching as your erect nipples scratch at his solid chest.
you feel your arousal drip out from each smack of his balls hitting your skin as it slid down your ass, turning you utterly absorbed as his hands freely roam over your naked body, your pussy rewarding him with a good squeeze due to his attentive ways of giving each and every part of you enough attention.
"t-that's good angel?" wriothesley drawls out a slow whisper before completely thrusting himself into you without warning, his weight dipping against your body as you're being pressed between his sweat afflicted chest and a doused mattress.
you're too much— and in his eyes, you're being way too irresistible tonight as well— no matter if it's due to the fact that he's been practically awaiting this ever since monday. not only that but the duke was forcing himself not to masturbate to the thought of you and instead, patiently sit still and focus on work until he was able to taste you again.
it had been utterly worth it in the end. always.
you're panting out, arching your back and gripping at his shoulders as he thrusts into you with an impossible pace, tossing his head back and exposing his adams apple upon swallowing thickly. you were certain that wriothesley had to be carved by gods, that his body was a work of art, meticulously drawn with blood, tears and passion, he was beautiful, and the love he gave to you was ravishing in its own rights.
he was yours, yours and yours and he makes you go crazy— yet, if only you were aware that you managed to make him become even crazier and more addictive to your complete person.
your personality, your beauty, your taste.
your skin feels sticky as wriothesley continues to drill the rummaging thoughts straight out of you, clenching his jaw in concentration as he wiped his forehead to get rid of the tousled bangs sticking at the glossy skin.
it's like time has stopped for the both of you, and your stomach was sitting heavy with a coil that was awaiting to be broken when in a trice, wriothesley's hips stutter in midst a long thrust, his previously rough technique turning messier when he tries to regain it, "ahh— wait, fuck," the duke chokes out, shooting you an aching look on his face before placing a palm against his flexed thigh, "just a second baby, yeah,"
"w-what's wrong?" you ask, dusted in lust and sweat as he slowly slides himself out of you.
instinctively, you pout and wince at the sheer loss of him, the fullness of his shaft melting into your softness that never failed to ignite a heat, a need, what it took to nurish your wanting, "is everything okay?"
your voice was firm as your eyes focus at your boyfriend, precisely his hand furiously rubbing at his thigh. he clears his throat as quietly as he could, as to not make a big deal out of it, "— a cramp, i got a cramp, fuck, hold on, okay," he frowns, his strawberry red cheeks refusing to face you before he climbs out of the bed.
his cock was still painfully erect with a condom wrapped around the shaft, glossed with your arousal. you grab onto the blanket to cover yourself a little before grinning at him cheekily, your body propped among pillows as you watched him.
"you're getting old, baby," you jest, smirking as his fingers dug into the plush of his skin, massaging the muscle, "i might need to go easier on you in the future," you add on playfully as at last, winning back his intrigued eye contact.
"you think so?" he clicks his tongue, his cheeky smile all set this time as he crawls back into the bed, his weight forcing the mattress to bounce a bit.
wriothesley finds himself in between your legs again before you welcome him back into your arms. there was so much love in his eyes, a pleading love— hand in hand with an unwavering loyalty as his breath wafts over your lips.
"you know what?" he asks.
"what?"
"it still hurts,"
you laugh to the point where your belly was starting to actually hurt, the blunt admittance said with a gentle tone might've been the best way on how to deliver this sentence to you, "i'm pretty sure i pulled a muscle,"
"i'm sorry but—," you snort before hiding your face in his neck to laugh out, pulling him into your hug tighter, "hey! i'm being serious, don't laugh, it's not funny," wriothesley speaks in both earnest and amusement before silently resting his head against your own.
your hands fall against his precious hair as you stroke over his scalp sensually, the both of you getting carried away by the soft, intimate moment of embracing each other in a raw, playful way.
by that time, you've long since forgotten about the couple minutes prior of skin clashing against skin as you cradle his cheeks to make him look at you softly, "lay down," you command, his marvelous eyes staring back at you, "i'll give you a massage grandpa," you laugh as he hums with a playful roll of his eyes before you frel his lips place a tender kiss on the corner of your mouth.
"what did i ever do to deserve someone so beautiful such as you?"
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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ sugar never tasted so good
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synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ you know that xiao has a soft spot for you, even when you show up to the wangshu inn uninvited // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡
cw. oral (fem! receiving), fingering, dirty talk, xiao is a tease <3 fem! reader ♡
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it was supposed to be a quick stop to the wangshu inn, to see if xiao was doing alright, no more and no less— after all, you haven't seen nor heard of him for a couple of weeks and had began to worry to the point where you had to consciously tell yourself to stop overthinking that something terrible happened.
not unexpectedly, the yaksha didn't necessarily harbor a strong liking towards your (secretly precious) habit of showing up uninvited to his place, and in any other case he would debate wether or not to show himself whenever you do come to visit him.
you do not know of it, but xiao tends to hope you show up, yet he pretends to dislike it in order to sewer any form of attachment towards your person.
although tonight, well, such was a different story because the mere sight of you had xiao weak in the knees— he could never admit it to you, but you've got him utterly captivated, not to mention, it has been a while since you both were able to get close to one another.
so to say he was frustrated was undermining the severity of his current emotions.
"oh, fuck, xiao..." your head drops into the silky pillows as his hands return safe and soundly to your writhing skin, he instantly places his palms under your knees in order to lift them just enough to slide your panties down, leaving them to lazily dangle around your ankle.
xiao rasps at the look of your damp pussy as he grunts your name under his ragged breathing, his solid erection twitching quicker as he settles between your legs. his eyes curiously glance along your glistening folds as he laps at his lips to turn them all soused and soft for you.
your muscles tense with liquid lust, your teeth clenched and fists balled into the disheveled sheets as xiao experimentally kisses over the little hood of your clit— one kiss, then a second, before parting his mouth to wrap himself around your precious pearl, shamelessly sucking and slurping the sensitive bundles inside his warmth.
like a magnet, you keep your gaze on his own and moan feverishly as you involuntarily buck your hips into his mouth.
"relax—" xiao mumbles into your cunt as his tongue trails over the plush of your folds, "is this why you came here? you wanted me to do this again?" the yaksha hums wetly against your aching core, his demeanor overly confident, "didn't know you were so filthy, hmm, so impatient too," he tilts his head to the side and flips one finger across your sloppy folds, smirking when your body twitches away.
to coax out one syllable after the other, the yaksha continues to use his hand and prances one digit over your folds before inserting one into you slowly, expertly pressing it through your tightness as you gasp at a fullness embracing your walls.
you fuse into him instantly, your pussy quivering around one digit as his eyes wander up to your chest, watching how you squeeze and play with your soft breasts.
you whimper when he slides in knuckles deep but alas, helplessly sob at the lack of tempo entangled in his thrusts, as to signalize you his urgent need of taking his time with you.
why hurry up your pleasure when xiao can tease you all night until you're begging for it? begging for him?
"enjoying yourself?" xiao watches your ever-changing faces, "i can tell you know, you're so wet here," he shamelessly slurps at your clit, a dark shadow casted over his eyes as he focuses on how your lips purse together when he flicks his tip between your folds and back to your clit, right with your clenching hole being stuffed by now, two slender fingers.
"n-need more, you feel so good xiao," you praise him on purpose— knowing it turns him on while having a desperate whine in your voice, your mouth falling open when he brazenly smirks into your cunt.
xiao breathes, hisses and holds your hips still by roughly pressing them into the mattress, "don't you stop showing me how you feel, don't you fucking dare,"
your tits jiggle as you abruptly arch your back the second he nudges the tip of his tongue against your clit and flicks it up and down, your hips swaying as he lets you use his wet muscle as you please.
in secret, xiao liked, no, loved when you were rough with him, almost territorial, it makes him feel like he's doing a good job in stimulating his darling.
with your lips bitten raw and eyes criss crossed, you hold his head and weave your fingers into his hair as you filthily grind your pussy across his mouth, up and down, up and down, smearing your slick over his cheeks and chin as your mind coasts to the feeling of his tongue stimulating you.
every warm lap of tongue makes your body feel like it's breaking beneath xiao's strong hold, his digits scissoring your hole as the other holds you close to his face before you move your hips to draw circles against his mouth, secretly admitting to yourself that;
yes, you got caught, you might've really visited him for this specific reason.
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Sakusa Timeskip Recs
this is for you lovely @dontmindtheevie. thank you for your support and patience pookie!
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the video call incident by @reverie-starlight
synopsis: you and sakusa enjoyed the secrecy of your relationship. after all, you both didn't want to imagine what would happen if the terrible three ever found out.
oneshot filled with humor, insults, and fluff. it made me unattractively cackle a couple times.
no secretes here by bunnytime [ao3]
synopsis: sakusa's teammates like to think they all know each other pretty well. how could they not know that sakusa was in a relationship? let alone married??
this mini series is so cute! pure fluff and msby chaos!
mine by @taeyamayang
synopsis: you always loved watching sakusa's games and supporting him. however, you didn't love what sakusa had set up for you.
oneshot, maybe a little ooc? but so adorable.
untitled oneshot by @chosobaby
synopsis: there's just one aspect of volleyball that sakusa does not enjoy...
lil "what if" scenario that i just love to think about!
specially made by @luvring
synopsis: you swear sakusa does not understand the point of a surprise. but you're not complaining.
dating pro-player sakusa scenario. just pure fluff
another untitled oneshot by @omi-boshi
synopsis: sakusa does not like answering his phone when he's on break. however, when it's you calling, curiosity gets the better of him.
reader just being a thorn in sakusa's side, but he's too down bad for you to complain.
Fresh Linens by emilyisfictional [ao3]
synopsis: your boyfriend is gone way too often, the only option is to steal his hoodies and sweaters. you hate that he washes them so often.
agh just more fluff and sakusa boyfriend scenarios that leave me melting
Drawing Our Moments by EdenxWrites [ao3]
synopsis: sakusa recalls the days he fell in love with you.
not entirely post-timeskip. has some flashbacks to high school but present day is set after high school. this oneshot caught me off guard.
hello, neighbor by @demxnscous
synopsis: you gain a new neighbor and he seems...interesting enough. well, his friend is definitely a character.
a meet-ugly oneshot that i wish had more parts...but ig that's what my imagination is for.
i also want to bring some attention to this fic: change of heart by heartcondemned [ao3]
i haven't finished reading it yet, but i'm really enjoying it. i also hesitate to rec it because it is unfinished and doesn't look like it will be... but give it a try if you're cool with that!
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