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seijorhi · 3 years

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Rabid.

The brainrot was real, guys. Hope you like it :))

Kyoutani Kentarou x female reader

tw blood, violence, implied minor character death, non-con, smut, nsfw

There’s blood splattered across the back of his hands the first time you make the unwitting mistake of catching Kyoutani’s attention. He usually can’t be fucked wasting time wrapping his fists; the skin across one of his knuckles is split and raw from his last job, but most of the blood isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

But he wouldn’t have noticed – it comes with the territory and he’s never really given a fuck whether there’s blood on his clothes or not – if it hadn’t been for that tiny gasp.

That soft, sharp little intake of breath, and like the rabid dog they claim he is, he snaps to the threat.

Nobody else at the table notices, and you seem to realise your mistake, freezing up the moment those honey brown eyes flash and zero in on you. Your throat bobs unsteadily – you look like a deer caught in headlights. Startled. Terrified.

Kinda fuckin’ adorable, if he’s being honest.

“I– I’m sorry, sir,” you mutter, ducking your head as you set down his drink with a tremor in your hand.

Vaguely, he registers Makki’s choked snort at the honorific – nobody’s ever called him sir before – but he can’t really find it in himself to give a fuck that the two of you have drawn an audience.

Not when you’re still frozen, hardly daring to draw breath at his side.

You’re new, that much is painfully obvious, but not stupid. You know who he is – who they are, and despite his reputation, he’s never been one to get off on fear or some fucked up version of a power trip; Kyoutani simply likes the feeling of lashing out, beating the absolute shit out of some asshole just because he can.

Because it feels good, gets his blood pumping.

Nobody would lift a finger to help you if he decided to take offence to your little slip up. And truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit – he’s used to people being on edge around him and it’s not like you’ve reacted any other way than how you’re supposed to.

It’s natural for you to be startled, scared even. But not here, not with them. Here you should know better, because here is filled to the fucking brim with men like Kyoutani. Oh sure, they might be prettier, polished and charming like Oikawa, but you’d have to be a goddamn idiot to think the man hasn’t stepped over bodies he’s put in the ground to get where he is.

At least Kyoutani never has to pretend to be anything other than what he is.

But a little blood in a place like this shouldn’t raise an eyebrow, and the way you’re staring at the table, eyes cast down and wide; Kyoutani can almost hear you cursing yourself out for your own stupidity. And it strikes him as he stares at you, drinking in every subtle shift in your body language, wondering why you don’t just tuck tail and run off like you so clearly want to, that you really don't belong in a place like this.

“Something the matter, Mad Dog?” a silken voice purrs, and he tears his eyes away from your trembling form to glance back at his boss, sitting at the head of the table. The brunette’s smiling idly, appraising the two of you and Kyoutani feels you stiffen beside him.

You don’t dare open your mouth, don’t so much as twitch, not even as Kyoutani returns his attention back to you. By now the entire table has quietened down, most if not all of the gathered men staring at you and you – pretty eyes filling with tears, hands clasped together and trembling in front of your dress – look like you just want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. And somewhat selfishly, there’s a part of Kyoutani that wants to keep you there like that.

Not afraid, exactly. Just… there.

He can’t explain it, doesn’t know why he hasn’t just told you to fuck off back to the kitchen, dismissed you with a grunt like he would have if any of the other servers had made the same mistake. He has bigger shit to worry about than some perceived fucking offence, but he finds himself pausing, drawing this little moment out for a lifetime before finally putting an end to it, “No.”

He jerks his chin, breaking the moment between the two of you to reach for the drink you’d set down before him, but still you don’t move, glancing between him and Oikawa like you’re afraid to move – as if you’re terrified that you’ve read this situation wrong and one wrong step and you’ll just make things worse. It’s so fucking endearing that he almost snorts, but it takes Oikawa’s voice, calm and level and almost kind to shake you out of your frozen state, “Run along now, cutie.”

You scamper off without a backwards glance, and if anybody notices Kyoutani watching you out of the corner of his eye while he nurses his drink, they have the better sense to keep their mouths shut about it.

And honest to god, it’s the last he expects to see of you. He’s not so stupid as to think you landed the job because you genuinely wanted it; people don’t end up in places like this because they have choices, they end up here because somebody somewhere along the line fucked up.

This city’s filthy, full of irredeemable pieces of shit like him and it takes innocence like yours, chews it up and spits it out. If you were smart, you would have left after your little run-in with him, so why the fuck are you right back in their private room less than a week later, nails biting into your palm and resolutely refusing to meet his eye?

Oikawa’s busy rattling off a list of drinks he wants, but this time it’s Kyoutani who’s frozen in place, staring at you with a scowl that has you shivering even as you nod at the Oyabun. He knows Iwaizumi at least is watching him with some kind of morbid combination of curiosity and concern, can’t find it within him to care as you try and slip from the room, giving him as wide a berth as you can without it seeming rude–

Not wide enough. Before he even registers that he’s moved Kyoutani’s reaching out to grab your forearm – his grip not tight enough to hurt, just to stop you from running off on him again. And the little squeak that leaves your soft looking lips sends a ripple of something electric jolting down his spine, but you know better than to try and pull away.

God, he can feel your pulse racing beneath your skin, every terrified thump of your heart. It’s addictive, he thinks, the feeling he gets just from touching you.

“Gimme a beer,” he grunts, waiting until you finally meet his eye.

The nervous little nod you give strokes some part of him he hadn’t realised existed. Kyoutani likes you like this; all timid and obedient. A little too much, maybe.

There’s a sharp elbow in his side courtesy of Yahaba, and he reluctantly releases his grip on you, leaving you to scamper away once more. Cute.

Yahaba makes some snarky comment under his breath and he barely fucking registers it, fixated instead on the skin of his palm; still warm and tingling from your touch. His hands are rough, scarred and calloused, the skin over his knuckles split from another job last night, a little red and bruised – even as he tightens his fingers into a fist they sting just a little.

Guns have their purpose, he’s not against a knife if he’s feeling particularly fucking vindictive, but Kyoutani’s favourite has always been his fists. There’s something about the feeling of skin and muscle giving way beneath his blows, taking all that pent up rage and aggression and letting loose with his fists. It’s a kind of euphoria he’s never found anywhere else; not in women or men or drugs or alcohol. Nothing comes close to the feeling he gets straddling some pathetic piece of shit and beating the absolute fucking crap out of him.

Sometimes if he goes a few days without a fight, he gets a little jittery. Not like the tweakers do, it’s not withdrawal so much as… a building up of restless, rabid energy. He gets on edge, snaps more, lashing out over petty shit until some poor asshole makes the mistake of looking at him the wrong way and Kyoutani just fucking looses it.

He feels it now, that same burning itch under his skin. He’s never thought of his hands as anything more weapons, but touching you, the warmth of your skin, how smooth and soft it was–

Kyoutani wants to do it again. Wants to touch more of you. And he’s not so fucked up yet that he doesn’t realise how twisted this all is, how a guy like him doesn’t belong within a thousand miles of some sweet, cute innocent thing like you. But the world ain’t fucking fair; you’re here and for whatever reason Oikawa’s taken a liking to you and so whenever they’re at the club, you’re the one management send to make sure they’re happy.

And Kyoutani wonders, golden eyes burning a hole into your back as you hastily clear away their empty glasses, whether you realise that if any one of them asked for a dance or for you to get on your knees and blow them, you’d be expected to do that, too.

You might as well be on Seijoh’s payroll now, just be thankful that as far as that side of things go, they’re not the monsters that the rumours make them out to be.

Not that he hasn’t noticed Mattsun’s gaze drifting to your ass when you lean over the table to grab something, the older man shooting him a salacious wink when he notices he’s glaring.

Not that he hasn’t let his own imagination take hold, leaning up against the glass wall of his shower first thing in the morning. His fist pumping along his throbbing cock, wondering what it’d be like to see you on your knees, those pretty eyes full of tears, staring up at him as you swallow him down like the good girl he knows you are.

The thing is, he’s never made all that much of an effort to hide his feelings from the others. He doesn’t give a shit if it makes him the butt of their jokes, doesn’t care what they think about the way he watches you – his attention snapping towards you the moment you slip past the door, purposefully trying to avoid his gaze. Not that it ever does you much good.

Oikawa hasn’t said shit, and that’s enough of a go-ahead as Kyoutani needs. It’s none of their fucking business anyway.

You’ve managed to get under his skin, push him to the fucking brink when he goes more than a few days without seeing you. He knows you don’t want any part of this; that you’re still fucking terrified of him. Kyoutani’s never been one to chase after somebody who wants nothing to do with him – there are plenty of women more than willing to spread their legs for Seijoh’s big bad Mad Dog if he wants an itch scratched. There’s no good reason why he can’t get you out of his head, why you’ve sunk your teeth into him and refuse to let go – even when it’s clear that that’s so fucking far from what you intended with the blonde.

It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, it doesn’t change shit; you’re his, whether you’re willing to acknowledge that or not.

And maybe he’s just living with his head up his ass, but he doesn’t quite realise how fucking inadequate this whole arrangement is until he needs a piss one night and ventures out into the club only to see some asshole trying to cop a feel and tug you down to his lap, his friends drunk and howling with laughter as you try to politely escape them.

Distantly he registers that he recognises the piece of shit as some low level fucking drug lord who’s been all but sucking Oikawa’s dick trying to get a bigger piece of the pie, but in that moment, he honestly doesn’t give a fuck who he is.

Kyoutani just sees red.

Nostrils flaring, steam practically pouring from his ears, he storms over. And adrenaline’s surging through him with every pounding beat of his heart, every synapse in his body’s electrified, ready to lay into this piece of shit for daring to lay a finger on what’s his.

He wants to beat him bloody, wants to fuck up his face – to whale on him until muscle and bone give way and there’s nothing left but bloody pulp where his head used to be. Him and his fucking friends.

But Kyoutani has his priorities, and he reaches you first, grabbing you by your elbow and ripping you away from them, a muscled arm curling protectively around your waist. And he’s deaf to whatever protests you have, to the excuses the pieces of crap in front of him offer up, can’t hear a goddamn thing over the pounding in his head as he fixes them with a snarl and all but drags you back to their room, shoving you less than gently in through the door.

“Stay here, don’t move until I get back,” he orders, and he loves you, he does, but when you open your mouth to argue, something inside of him tightens and snaps. He grabs you by the jaw, jerking your face up as he crowds in over you, golden eyes ablaze, “Not a fucking muscle, understand?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, crashing his lips down on yours to steal the kiss he’s been waiting fucking weeks for before stalking back out.

Kyoutani is beyond caring about ramifications, Oikawa’s always given him a fairly loose leash to do as he pleases and if this is what puts an end to that so fucking be it; he’ll take you and go. But he hears Iwa and Mattsun on his heels and neither one of them are trying to stop him as he storms back towards the drug lord and his little cronies, so he figures the boss ain’t too fucking bothered with what he’s about to do.

And maybe if he’d had a clearer head, he might’ve found it funny how quickly the floor clears when he vaults the couch, grabs the asshole by the front of his silk shirt and heaves him forward, sending him careening face first into a table full of drinks.

With the taste of you on his lips, the memory of this piece of shit’s hands all over you, Kyoutani doesn’t hold back.

The others are gone by the time he, Iwa and Mattsun return, it’s just Oikawa casually leaning back in his seat, you sitting rigidly in the one beside him, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair.

Kyoutani’s eyes flicker tensely between the two of you – he’s still on edge, still not right. He needs something more to feed that rabid fucking monster lurking beneath his skin, and his Oyabun knows it.

Oikawa smiles genially, patting your knee for just a moment (and oh, how Kyoutani hates the flash of jealous rage that rears its ugly head when he leans over and whispers something in your ear) before standing up.

“Mad Dog,” he says, eyeing him with a shrewd look he recognises all too well. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He nods at the two behind him and without another word the three of them exit, no doubt to try and smooth over the mess he’d just made.

Leaving Kyoutani alone with you.

And there’s a part of him that’s pissed off, because this was always gonna happen, but fuck, he was gonna make an effort. He’d wanted it to be nice for you… romantic, or at least as romantic as somebody like him was capable of.

You deserve that much.

His blood’s still thrumming, remnants of blind fury and jealousy and possessive need still burning through his veins. The fight wasn’t enough to sate him; it should’ve been – he’d left them in fucking pieces – but then again you’ve been toeing this line for a long, long time, and Kyoutani’s patience only goes so far.

He should at least take you back to his apartment, try and salvage this disaster of a night, but he knows deep down he can’t make himself walk out of here with you without taking what he needs.

He’s still not entirely in control, breathing hard as he stares at you, watches you fiddle with your hands in your lap, refusing to meet his gaze. “Stand up,” he says, his voice a rough growl.

On shaking legs, you obey, eyes flickering towards the doorway behind him, and distantly he wonders what you’re thinking. You’re foolishly naive, he’ll admit that much, but he doesn’t think you’re stupid. You know where this is going, and you must know that there is nobody and nothing that’s gonna stop what’s about to happen. Not even you.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and now he’s the one to draw in an unsteady breath. “Strip.”

You blanch, eyes widening in pure panic. And there’s a part of him that feels guilty, that knows he’s scaring you right now and hates himself for it, but any chance of rationality winning out fled the moment he saw somebody else put their hands all over you.

“Strip,” he repeats when you make no move to start taking your clothes off. “Or I’ll rip that pretty fucking dress off myself.”

Kyoutani adores that little catch in your breath, the way you bite down on your bottom lip as you give in, meekly reaching for the zipper at your back.

You’re so fucking beautiful, every mouthwatering inch of you. Tentatively, you glance up at him after your dress hits the floor, as if you’re hoping that that’ll be enough, that he doesn’t want to see all of you. Any other time, and the sight of you in your matching set of lingerie might’ve been enough to calm him, but it’s not what he needs tonight.

His scowl deepens, and you’re clever enough to read between the lines. Your bra goes first, pretty lace panties joining the small pile of clothes on the floor a moment later.

Good girl.

His eyes darken as he stares, hungrily taking you in. Soft tits, nipples pebbling under the cool air, he’s dying to touch them, suck on them, mark them up nice and fuckin’ pretty. The gentle swell of your ass, smooth, supple thighs he can’t wait to get his hands on, and that cute little cunt of yours, all his. His to play with, his to tease, his to claim. Fuck, this is better than all the images he’s conjured up of you in the heat of the moment, stroking his cock to get off with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. He wants to compliment you, tell you how perfect you are, how cute you are – trembling naked in front of him, but he’s beyond words right now, hanging onto his control by a fucking thread as his cock twitches in his pants, all that blood rushing south.

You look like you’re about to burst into tears as you swallow, taking in a quick, hitching breath. “Kyoutani,” you begin in a soft, tiny voice–

And that last little thread snaps.

He’s on you before you can stop him, spinning you around and roughly slamming your hips up against the table. There’s no time to be soft or gentle, no time to even take off his pants, he just shoves them down to his thighs and reaches for his cock.

Fuck, he’d wanted to eat you out, to stuff you full of his fingers and make you cum on them first, get you nice and stretched out, but he’s still too wound up. Kyoutani needs to be buried inside of you, needs to fuck you – he’ll make it up to you afterwards, he swears it.

He’ll treat you like a fucking princess, just be good for him now.

And the scream that shatters that calm night air should tear at him – he doesn’t want to hurt you, not ever, it’s his job to protect you – but he can’t focus on that when your pussy’s clamping down around his fat cock, a dizzying heat enveloping him as your walls flutter and squeeze against the unwanted intrusion.

It feels like fucking heaven. Kyoutani’s hands are everywhere; your tits, your ass, squeezing reassuringly at your hip when a broken sob leaves your lips. And he’s kissing at your shoulders, nuzzling at your neck even as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, desperate to be as close to you as he can as his hips draw back and he pounds back in, grunting like a beast in heat.

He fucks you savagely, your hips slamming against the table with every thrust – there’ll be bruises no doubt, but he’ll look after those too. He swears to fucking god, he’ll take such good care of you. You’re gonna be his girl. You are his girl.

It’s easier than it should be to drown out your agonised cries and pleas for him to slow down, to chase his own pleasure within your tight, wet heat, his cock ramming up against your cervix with every stroke.

He loves you, loves the feeling of being inside of you – fuck, Kyoutani doesn’t think he ever wants to leave. His fingers find your clit and you cry out, a shudder wracking your body that almost has him seeing stars with the way your pussy tightens and convulses around him in response. He loses his rhythm as he nears his end, hips jackrabbiting into your poor, abused cunt as his balls tighten.

You’re slick now, cunt drooling around him as he fucks you hard and fast, lewd slaps echoing out with every brutal thrust. Kyoutani knows he’s holding you too tight, knows it’s probably hurting but he can’t fucking care when he’s so close and you feel so fucking good–

His teeth sink into your neck as that blinding pleasure takes hold; his entire body seizing up, abs tightening as his orgasm slams into him. Kyoutani cums with a hissed snarl, crushing you against him as thick, warm spurts fill your perfect little cunt right up. He fucks you through it, a slow, lazy grind of his hips against yours as he milks his orgasm for all it’s worth, pressing gentle, soothing kisses along your collarbone while you sniffle and sob pathetically.

“Love you,” he grunts quietly – truthfully – letting your exhausted body collapse back against the table. And it’s now he regrets not having taken you home to do this on an actual bed, just so he could lie you down somewhere soft afterwards and curl up beside you.

Still, there’s not much he can do but try and comfort you as best he can, rough fingers running soothingly up and down your back as he waits for you to calm down. He pauses after a moment though, staring oddly at his hands.

There’s blood smeared across his skin, caked under his nails, splattered up his tattooed forearms. And Kyoutani can’t help the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips as he leans over to kiss your shoulder again, his cock still stuffed inside of you.

Most of it isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kyoutani #yandere kyoutani x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou #tw blood #tw violence #tw implied minor character death #tw non con #i love the angry tennis ball

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nanasparadise · 3 years

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“Losing my senses for you” Yan!Joseph (Part 3) x female reader

Hiya everyone! Here’s a little Yan! Joseph (Part 3) x female reader for y’all because apparently, I like to see Suzi suffer lol

Summary: You and your soulmate Joseph share a pleasant dream, as always. Though suddenly, the elderly wants to take your friendship to the next level...

TW: age gap, implied cheating, implied kidnapping, toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Word count: 2022

Joseph had always thought of himself as a sensible man. Sensible enough to fall in love with his current wife and have a child with her, disregarding the fact that Suzi Q wasn’t his soulmate. Why would he have denied himself love, a family? No, Joseph had been rational enough to not care about that ‘dreaming of your soulmate’ humbug. That had been the case until he’d met you.

The male would have never imagined seeing his soulmate in his dream, not after all these years being married and especially not as an elderly man. You were still so young, a blooming flower in your twenties, ready to conquer the world. How could Joseph be your soulmate? But there was no denying that the Brit was constantly dreaming of you. Nearly every morning he’d wake up, your face still lingering on his mind while his spouse slept peacefully next to him, knowing nothing about her husband’s dream invader. Sometimes, he’d even whisper your name. Joseph didn’t have the heart to tell her, after all, Suzi had been his love for most of his life. But apparently, not the one to spend the remainder of it with.

This night wasn’t an exception when it came to your nocturnal visits. This time, the two of you sat on the terrace of a café near Joseph’s flat in New York City. The crowding streets of the metropolis filled the air with a cacophony of sounds: honking taxi cars, chatting people, the occasional dog that barked loudly. Even though every tiny thing seemed to buzz with life, Joseph knew that none of this was real- all would cease to exist once he’d wake up, except for him and you. Politely, you smiled at the Brit.

“Hello Mr. Joestar, how are you doing today?”, you greeted him, as you always did. Both of you had agreed that you wouldn’t refer to the elderly man with his first name, wanting to keep some distance between you. Just like Joseph, you had been more than surprised to notice that your soulmate wasn’t a person around your age. Though never having been openly said, you two knew you wouldn’t pursue any romantic advances towards each other. At some point, Joseph had even revealed to you that he was married and had a daughter and a grandson. But since you hadn’t found a way yet to end these dreams, you were behaving on an amicable basis. The male believed you’d probably see in him a grandfather figure. Though Joseph couldn’t tell anymore if he saw you as a granddaughter …

As per usual, the pair consisting of you chattered the whole time. You told him about your new job, how you were nervous to meet your colleagues, wondering if you’d get along well. While you were talking, you kept fiddling the napkin next to you, demonstrating your anxiety. During your countless encounters, Joseph had learnt to read your body language. Confidently, the man rested his real gloved hand on top of yours, stopping your tic. You stared into the male’s green eyes, astonishment written on your face.

“Y/N,” Joseph said softly, “you don’t need to be nervous, dear. How could they not like such a ray of sunshine like you?” He flashed you a big grin at his final words. You averted his tender gaze. Oh, how Joseph loved this bashful expression on your face. You were so easy to tease.

“Thank you, Mr. Joestar, though I think you’re exaggerating.”

“Please, call me Joseph”, the elderly man blurted out. A big thumb idly drew circles on the back of your hand. He didn’t know what had driven him into saying this, into breaking the formal distance between you - at least he didn’t know consciously. Deep inside, he was well aware that he loved you - more than just a friend, than a granddaughter, hell, even more than Suzi. In the end, you were his soulmate. Suddenly, all the previous talk about how any other kind of love paled compared to the love for your soulmate didn’t seem like humbug to Joseph anymore. No, the once reasonable man had been utterly struck by the arrow of a foolish love, a love he hadn’t experienced beforehand – not even with his wife. He had been struck by you. Your surprise only grew.

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t that be awkward?”, you asked hesitantly, eyeing your hand. Joseph stayed persistent though.

“Not at all, Y/N. It’s only natural to call me by my first name after all our dates, isn’t it?”, the man winked playfully at you. He really wanted to see how far he could go with his flirtatious banter until you’d retreat. Or maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d feel the same as him, wanting more out of these encounters. Maybe… Hope blossomed in Joseph’s chest, making the elderly man feel like a lovesick teenager all over again. Only you held that much power over him. Your following words crushed that spark of hope fairly quickly though.

“I don’t know, Mr. Joestar…,” you retorted, obviously refusing to address him as Joseph, “Don’t you think it would enable unwanted feelings between us? This is quite a hard situation anyway for us – you with your family, me with my young age – I don’t think we need to complicate things further.” At this statement, the light in Joseph’s green eyes extinguished like a flame. Of course. He might have lost his mind, but you didn’t. No, you remained rational, cool-headed.

“Ah, I see”, Joseph simply replied, barely hiding the disappointment in his raspy voice. “This is for the best, you old fool,” the tiny voice whispered in Joseph’s head, “How could you keep up with her?” Bitter at his own thoughts, the man made a crestfallen grimace.

“I’m sorry, I don’t intend to hurt your feelings in any way. I do enjoy the time we spend together and I appreciate you, Mr. Joestar”, you added remorsefully. The Brit’s heart warmed at your words of consideration. You cared for him, you must, he was convinced. The effects of the soulmate bond couldn’t just be ignored by you. Maybe, there was still a chance for him. Maybe…

“Y/N”, Joseph murmured your name ever so gently. Surprised by the softness of his tone, you looked up to him. He briefly wetted his lips before he proceeded talking. “I appreciate you, too. A lot, actually. Every time I’m in your company, I’m the happiest man alive. You draw me in and I can’t help myself but wanting more.” You tried to interrupt him, but Joseph quickly stopped you by raising his hand and continuing his speech. “Ah ah, honey, please let me finish. I know what you want to say: ‘But Mr. Joestar, what about your family?’ Well, they’ll understand, they have to. We’re soulmates, I can’t just ignore that. I’ll leave my wife for you, then we can start a life together. Please, my love, consider my words. After all, even without knowing it, I’ve been waiting the whole time for you.” Joseph gazed intensely in your eyes, yearning painted across his face. He patiently watched you gulp heavily and waited for your answer while he put his hand back on yours.

“Your words are sweet and I’m grateful for your sincerity, Mr. Joestar,” you eventually sputtered, “you’re dear to me, I’d be lying if I said you weren’t, but not in the way you intend it to be. I don’t think I could ever see you in a romantic way. And even if I could, I don’t want to be a homewrecker. I know you love your family, you shouldn’t toss them away for me.” Joseph sighed deeply. He’d learnt with experience to tame his quick temper, but still, impatience flared up inside him.

“Why can’t you give me, give us, a try? I’m aware that our initial plan was to keep some distance between us, but if we both have feelings for each other, why deny them then? You said you couldn’t see me as a lover, but I don’t believe that. Give me a chance and I’ll prove you how much I love you.” Joseph slightly squeezed your hand while spilling out his passionate words. “You said I shouldn’t toss away my family, but you want me to throw you away. How could I do that? Every morning, it’s your name that escapes my lips, your body I want to feel next to mine, your scent I want to inhale.” The man grew desperate the more he talked. “Don’t worry about our age difference, I know a way for you to grow old with me.” Joseph perceived your puzzled face from the corner of his eyes as he fixated his gaze on your hand, but kept speaking. “I can give you so much Y/N, if only you’d let me. Please, let us try it.” He finally looked up to you, fearing and yet anticipating your reaction. Yes, only you could make him this nervous… Your brows were tightly furrowed, though a hint of sympathy seeped through your kind eyes.

“Joseph…”, you whispered softly. The Brit’s heart fluttered like a hummingbird upon hearing you finally say his first name. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to reveal this to you, but it’s only fair for me to be honest to you as well. I’ve actually met this man a while ago.”

Joseph’s jaw dropped at your confession and his eyes widened. No, this couldn’t be true. He felt as if his whole world had shattered in this moment. Cruelly, you decided to hurt him more with your words. “And to be frank, things are going well. We’ve even talked about moving in together. I think he might be the one I want to spend my life with, Joseph.” Thud. Joseph’s prosthetic hand slammed harshly on the table. Instinctively, you winced at the loud noise.

“Why would you say that to me?!”, the man in front of you shouted, desperation coating his voice, “Why would you break my heart like that? I can’t believe it! Here I am, thinking about leaving my wife for you while you’ve been having fun with some other guy!” Joseph’s grasps painfully tightened around your hand. His handsome features had transformed into a terrifyingly furious grimace. You gasped fearfully, trying to retrieve your hand from Joseph’s hold. “Why would you bother to be with him when I’m right here? He isn’t your soulmate, I am!” Hot anger flooded the male’s body. It’s been years since he felt this kind of raw emotion again. Joseph glared at you while you still tried unsuccessfully to escape his grasp. Eventually, he let go of your hand. Hastily, you pulled it away from the table. Taking a deep breath, you spoke up.

“I think you forget that I’m still an independent woman, Mr. Joestar.”

“So we’re back at the surname, huh?”, the Brit thought gloomily.

“No matter if we’re soulmates, I’ve still got my own life, as you do. Which means I can choose with whom I’m in a relationship. I hope this incident here is non-recurring and that you’ve come back to your senses the next time we’ll see each other.”

With these final words, Joseph woke abruptly up. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins from his intense outbreak. While laying down on his bed, he tried to calm his agitated breaths. “I should come back to my senses, huh?,” the male muttered quietly into the room as to not wake up Suzi, “What a bold thing coming out of your mouth, since you’re the source for my irrational behaviour.” Yes, Joseph had always thought of himself as a sensible man. But times had changed. And drastic times called for drastic measures. Subconsciously, the Brit knew exactly what had to be done if he didn’t want to lose you to that pest you thought was your boyfriend. Slowly, he climbed out of his bed. Joseph glanced one more time at his spouse’s sleeping form.

There was no turning back now.

Out of a drawer, the man grabbed a polaroid camera and called out his Stand.

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #yandere jjba #yandere joseph joestar #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere joseph joestar x reader #minors dni #tw: yandere #tw: age gap #tw: noncon touching #tw: implied kidnapping #tw: injury

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mintseesaw · 4 years

Text

northeast monsoon

pairing: god!jungkook x goddess!reader genre: fantasy, smut, slight angst, soulmate!au word count: 3.7k warnings: mature content, unprotected sex, brief mentions of the character’s health conditions, cursed!reader, son of the deity jungkook // 18+ summary: Jungkook, not out of ordinary, decided to celebrate his 24th birthday in his favorite place on earth, the closest place to heaven—on a mountain summit. However, even before he reaches the highest peak of the mountain range, he was trapped, enthralled, and coincidentally found his true nature.

note: the idea occurred to me earlier while i was at work yesterday used jk’s birthday as an excuse to pursue it and ignore my 36433 wips and drabble requests; short, steamy and a literal filth bc it’s unedited

Jungkook was lost.

His birthday seems to carry the bad luck today. His very first misfortune in his two year experience of mountain hiking. The moment he stepped foot on the soil of mountain range marks the start of a weird feeling sitting at the pit of his something. That he refused to acknowledge because nothing bad happened to him before.

When they visited the homes of the natives on the foothill of the mountain to pay respect as inhabitants of the ancestral domain, the chieftain’s storytelling of the mountain’s cursed guardian sounded incredulous. He didn’t take it seriously nor think of it as a warning. He didn’t understand why the indigenous leader felt the need to tell them a folklore causing a delay on their activity.

Amongst the group of civilian trekkers, he was the only one who skipped the supposed ritual of spitting to the soiled ground and drawing a cross on foot on the same spot before entering the premises passed the small village. It was said to reverse the effect of any potential supernatural force against them.

Approximately 45 minutes after they started their trail onto the summit, he caught a swarm of fireflies flocking on a trunk of a humongous tree, seemingly in its hundred years of existence or more. But it wasn’t the insects that prompted him to stop and admire the view. It was the rare glow surrounding the tree that did. In his great fascination, he even loudly shared his discovery to the group. Their disinterest to the majestic tree dismayed him. Are they blind or something? It’s not everyday that they get to admire such beauty. For a solid few minutes, he was left dazed, stunned to see a tree before his eyes just like the one he had seen recently in a fantasy drama where there existed witchcraft and wizardry.

He’s not dreaming, is he?

When he finally snapped out of his reverie, the group was no longer in sight, leaving him there standing alone. At least, there’s a trace of footprints he could use to follow their tracks.

In silence, Jungkook couldn’t help but think back of the past, and the last bit memory he remembers when he woke up in a hospital bed with no recollection of his identity.

Four years ago, he was met with a major car accident with its impact resulting to hundreds of stitches in his chest, the only hideous scar he obtained after he was said to be hospitalized for a month. He not only developed a heart condition but was also diagnosed with a retrograde amnesia. He believes that his inability to recall his past memory marked the start of his vivid dreams occurring every night. Still, he was lucky enough to have his body remain in the best condition despite the lasting emotional and physiological damages it left him.

The endless dreams of mountains and forests led him to discover his fondness in scenery and the constant sense of emptiness becoming difficult to ignore. His newly found obsession with nature was enough to convince himself to start trekking, particularly mountains. Strange enough, he found the solitary in mountain peaks, of the scenery, and the cold climate in summits. He found a temporary peace in the closest place to heaven from the constant ache that each of his bizarre dreams left his heart bruising.

It was not only his dreams that he finds peculiar. Although his mother had reminded him numerous times that it was his adolescent self who developed a liking to tattoos, he didn’t know what occurred to him in his teens to consider inking his body with unrecognizable symbols that even with a brief searching in google couldn't provide him what the underlying significance each mark carries.

Few minutes later, he found himself stopping at the same spot where he had taken his time admiring the tree. He didn’t know how it happened when he was only following the remnants of the collective footpath on the ground. If he perceived the situation odd, he didn’t acknowledge it until the third time he came back on the same spot, same view.

The fact that he’s always has this great sense of remembering directions whether it be in the road or in mountains, makes the situation even weirder. For the nth time, he took a glance at his wristwatch. A groan resonated through the eerie silence in the midst of the forest. He’s been walking in circles for almost two hours now.

The group might have been halfway through the summit at this point. The trail takes about 4-5 hours and he’s far behind them now. With a heavy heart, he decided to return back to the foothill.

The sun is at its highest peak above the sky, amplifying the dryness of his mouth from the heat of noon. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to drink the remaining content in his flask.

The gust of wind brought by the monsoon is somehow mixing up his sense of direction. Some may find it strange, but he could feel the presence of wind oddly stronger than other human beings. Out of the ordinary, he could sense where the wind came from just by the mere blow of breeze passed his skin. Right now, he couldn’t put his extraordinary ability into good use because even with his attempt to go back down, he keeps returning to the same location.

Jungkook is lost. Somewhat, he’s trapped.

Now more than ever, he’s almost convinced some being invisible to the naked eye is playing him around. Jungkook lowered his rucksack on the ground, and started pacing back and forth as he tried to figure out how he’ll reverse the imaginary spell.

Even with the time passing by, the fireflies remained there, swimming around the trunk like they own it. If he’s trapped, someone or something might be responsible for this. Whether or not these stupid supernatural creatures are true, he needs to get out of here.

His foot stopped mid-step and fixated his glare at the old tree. What else would prove the peculiarity of the situation other than the mythical personified before his eyes.

“Come on, take back whatever spell you’ve casted on me. I’m not gonna destroy your home. This is an order, you devious creature.” Jungkook reprimands sarcastically as if the poor, ginormous tree can understand him in the human language.

There was nothing significantly remarkable about it if not only for the fairy dust-like glimmers surrounding it.

However, to his surprise, he suddenly hears the rustles of the leaves and cracks of branches echo through the stillness in the air as they pliantly bend over. He could feel the shiver run through his spine as he gathered what was happening to the tree. It is bending, its crown slightly crouched in front of him as if it was bowing down.

Jungkook staggers back in utter astonishment.

What the fuck is this sorcery? Is he dreaming?

He blinks furiously, trying to deduce the realness of the scene in front of him.

Soon after, he felt another surge of force-like brush of the wind against his skin, kindling tingles and goosebumps to appear on his skin. Dust swirls like a whirlpool in the air as weightless dead leaves harshly dance above the ground before they fall back down. To make things more incredulously mad, out of nowhere, a blinding form comes into sight near the trunk.

As its gleam dies down, the next thing his eyes have captured is the most enchanting being he has ever seen in his life.

A goddess.

She leans forward, her shimmering palm rubbing up and down on the rough texture of the trunk, as if the bewitching creature is consoling the seemingly submissive native species. Whether or not the goddess is upraising its spirit, he couldn’t be sure.

In quiet amazement, he watches the beauty just a few meters away from him while his presence remains hidden. Long silky hair in beautiful waves flowing with its end touching her lower back. It’s shade resembles that of the dead leaves with seemingly fresh petals and leaves decorated as accessories on her hair. Almost brandishing her as a forest goddess. With her side facing his front, Jungkook could clearly see the swell of her breasts with her thick locks keeping her peaks hidden like an enthusing mystery.

As if abiding by whatever the goddess had said, the crouched tree slowly returns back to its natural form. And just as the goddess turns her back at him, ready to vanish into the thin air, he scurried forward.

“Wait!” Jungkook shouts, hurriedly calling their attention despite hardly recovering from the peculiarity of the scene in front of him.

You only responded with a side glance, just enough to see him in your peripheral vision.

Jungkook took it as his cue to garner more of your attention, “You’re a goddess?” He says with his tone clearly filled in awe.

As if his naive question took you by surprise, you whirled around. When you did, it was like there was an invisible electrifying sensation that struck him the moment your eyes landed on him. The tremor of sparks immediately radiating in his body.

She’s such an exquisite sight, Jungkook gawked. Cting you as his example, none of the illustrations he’d seen on the internet had given justice just how beautiful goddesses are in real life. In real life!

When you spoke for the first time since you appeared in his vision, he was quickly snapped out of daze.

“You can see me? How… you mortals do not have the ability to see us.” You say breathlessly, bewildered to have met the eyes of a mortal for the first time since time immemorial. No living mortal can and will see you, unless you have opted to be seen.

Jungkook’s mouth parted. You said no affirmation. Yet, the way you addressed him as a mortal only meant one thing.

“You’re really a goddess!” He exclaims, still stunned.

“Go back to the land. The fairies will guide you the way.” You said with a simple directness, having no intention to unravel the mystery of his identity and why he seemed to carry power in him. Just as you uttered those words, the fairies appeared from the crown of the tree.

“No, wait! I’m not gonna leave until you answer my questions.”

Your head shook and with firm persistence, you say, “I am no guardian of a mortal like you. Leave the mountain before another fairy casts a spell on you. If that happens, you will never return to your home.”

Jungkook held his arms out. “I’m not here to harm anyone or anything.”

As the wind continues to swirl around the two of you, the long locks of your hair resting over your chest continue to sway pliantly in the wind’s direction.

At some point, Jungkook caught a vaguely familiar mark decorated on your skin just below your shoulder blade. On the same spot of one of his marks which mirrors yours.

“I am the guardian of this shelter and supernatural beings that live here. I cannot fill your curiosity nor have the power to keep you safe against them.”

Jungkook could perfectly hear you, but his focus had zeroed in to your shoulder. To see the exact resemblance of his mark on yours is a different story. You’re wrong, definitely wrong because you are the answer to his dreams.

Jungkook suddenly peels off his waterproof jacket while dragging his feet toward your direction.

The swell of your breasts entice him almost too painfully that his cock twitches from the mere sight of your glowing skin in complete nudity. As if they were inviting his palms to touch them. And even with your orbs glinting with subtle surprise, your face remained expressionless.

Why, he finds it fascinating. You have bewitched him!

Your confusion only lasted for a couple seconds until the last layer of fabric was taken off of his upper body. But it was replaced by a thunder striking discovery, gasping as your eyes landed on the flesh-colored, slit-like scar on his chest similar to that of the Deity’s symbol. Lightning bolt.

Jungkook met your eyes, thinking you’ve already recognized the identical marking on his skin.

When he parts his mouth to speak, you beat him to it.

“You’re not a mortal.” You revealed, still astounded.

“W-What?” Jungkook stopped in his tracks.

It couldn’t possibly be. The children of the Supreme Deity are no mortals. The God of the sea, the Ruler of the stars and moon, the Owner of the soon, the twin Gods of love and beauty, the Prince of the earth and the deity’s successor, and the missing guardian of the wind have no mortal blood. That you’re certain of. But the missing god... does it mean he’s the missing guardian of the wind?

Your gaze sifts through the generous amount of inks on his arms where the secrets of his power lie beneath the layer of the markings. The God of love have revealed this to you once several years when you dared question the reason why his body is decorated of inks, unlike other gods you have seen.

When your eyes shifted upward to his shoulder blade, you felt your heart tightens in an almost unbearable grip for the first time since the Deity has cursed you.

“Soulmate,” you reveal for the second time.

Jungkook’s eyes went round. “S-Soulmate?” He stutters.

You reach out and touch the ink of your bond on his skin. And just like that, Jungkook visibly shudders at the minimal contact.

Your eyes glossy from moisture. “I’ve been waiting for you.” You confessed.

He took one bold step forward, cupping your elegant face in his palms.

“Heavens, you’re so beautiful. How could I possibly believe that I’m rewarded with a soulmate like you? Tell me, I’m not dreaming.” He says with wonder glinting in his eyes.

He inches his face closer until your noses are touching. “If I only knew you’re waiting for me, I should’ve come here sooner when I began having those weird dreams. Fuck, let me kiss you, princess.” He groans, unable to wrap his head around with the revelation. He still has yet to ask what you meant when you said he’s not a mortal, but right now, he doesn’t care what his true identity is.

He needs to taste you.

And so he did, capturing your mouth in a flash, and taking your breath away as he pushes his tongue into the caverns of your mouth.

“So sweet,” he murmurs against your mouth. “You taste so sweet, princess.”

But the moment was cut short as he felt a searing pain in his chest. He jerks back as his body contorts in agony.

Jungkook hisses as the pain all too quickly rushes in his blood, the sensation numbing his entire body. With his eyes clenched tightly shut, he failed to witness the glow beginning to exude from each ink on his arms, the most vibrant glimmer coming from the mark on his chest that symbolizes his birthright.

His power is trying to rouse back through his mortal senses. Your glimmering fingers cautiously graze the bond on his skin, exploring the effect of your touch to him.

The tingles that radiate through his veins left him whimpering and wanting more, more of it to distract him from the unbearable ache.

“Please touch me…” He writhes, sharply drawing a breath in and out.

You lower your head and let your mouth touch the bond. A ripple of tingles slither through him almost instantly, involuntarily making him shiver from the newfound sensation. He could feel the rush of blood going straight to his cock inside his pants. He needs more.

As if you heard his silent pleas, your tongue darts out of your mouth, swirling around the spot to soothe his aches. Jungkook’s hands curl over your back, closing the distance between your bodies, leaving no way for him to not feel your breasts on his chest. In daze, he looked heavenward, mouth parted back as gasps proceeded to stumble out of his mouth deliriously. With the pain drowned by the pleasure that your sensual licks carry, he tears your mouth off of his skin just to crash his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

He lets his instincts rule him out, and there’s one thing he wants more than anything else than to permanently mark your body his, to seal the bond that will eternally link your souls together.

“I need you so much, Princess. Tell me you want this, too. Otherwise I’ll leave and will never bother you, again.” He says in a whisper against the corner of your mouth.

The harmless threat of his words stirs alarm in you, giving him the answer he wants to hear almost instantaneously. “I’m yours, please have me. Do as you wish to my body.”

He groans, loving the way you call him yours. “Jungkook,” he whispers against the plump skin of your glowing cheek, “Say it. Say my name, Princess.” He demands softly.

“Jungkook,” you utter breathlessly.

His chest vibrated as the growl rang through the emptiness of the forest. “Fuck, you’re so perfect, my goddess.”

Jungkook sweeps you off in his arms, and with a few, calculated steps, he laid you over his thrown jacket on the ground. Another groan tears out of him just as he parted your legs, with your bare, leaking center exposed right before his hooded eyes.

Unceremoniously, he braced himself on top of you, sucking the raven mark on your skin. His fully aroused member is freed with a pop of his button and a one forceful pull of the waistband of his trousers.

He wasted no more passing second and impulsively align the red tip of his mad cock on your entrance. With a calculated thrust of his hips, he sinks his member to your warm tightness, releasing a heavy sigh in relief as the heat of your hole equally envelops all throughout his body despite the chills brought by the gust of the wind.

Jungkook catches one of your peaks with his mouth as you get lost to the heat of the intimacy. He didn’t know if goddesses such as his enchanting soulmate can conceive like mortals do or if there are other methods to reproduce but it’s never a waste of his fluid to try and test the theory. After all, if your words bear truth, he may not be a human like what he actually thought he was.

Your heavenly mewls coax him to penetrate in you deeper, until your cries have intensified and your body writhes helplessly beneath him.

With each roll of his hips colliding against your pelvis, your delightful cries have become more profound, unrestrained, enough to flare warmth right straight to his abdomen. Jungkook rests his forehead just below your temple, murmuring sweet confessions to you, the owner of his soul and inevitably soon, his heart.

He guided your legs around his waist, giving him the access to ruthlessly pound into you deeper. And then something snaps out from him.

All the gentleness of his movements have evolved into something more carnal—feral, manifesting the strength of his true nature.

God of the wind, son of the Supreme Deity. The longer his body connects with your immortal form, the luminescence emitting on his skin becoming more vivid.

“Jungkook!” Another scream tears out of you. Tears cascading from your eyes from both pain and pleasure.

With his godly powers spurring during the intimate joining of your bodies, his strength turns more powerful that no human would possibly ever survive from. You could never match the godliness of a deity’s son, but your supernatural strength was able to neutralize the surge of his energy and entwines the intensity with yours.

The God of the wind continues to rock you closer and closer to the end, with the thought of his future with you, you carrying his children, you and no one else.

He senses the buildup tension in your stomach with your head tossing restlessly from side to side.

And in a suck of your bond with his mouth and a flick of your bud in your center, you exploded so powerfully around his cock. Jungkook chases his end while the rush of your euphoria continues to spark in your veins, giving your body an exceptional glow.

He reaches the peak of pleasure with an animalistic growl reverberating on his chest, locking your hips immobile to make sure your walls greedily take in every drop of his cum. He’d want to breed you with his children.

“My sweet goddess, you’re amazing.” He praises, nuzzling on the thick, wavy locks of your hair.

Jungkook didn’t miss the squeeze of your palm on his waist. He let your wandering hands trace the length of his body. But he pulls away when you spoke.

“Will you leave me after this?” There is sadness hinted at the tone of your voice.

He tilted your chin up with his fingers, studying your features. “Of course not, how can you say that?”

You smile weakly, the grief dancing in your eyes making his chest tightens. “I’m not as powerful as you are. You are the son of the deity, you can… reject our bond and choose any goddess as you wish. Whereas, I only have one eternal soulmate and that’s you. But…”

Even with the truth unraveling right before him, he could only focus on your grief. Why is someone as perfect as you hold so much moroseness in your heart?

“But?”

“This mountain is my world. I’m eternally cursed to guard this shelter.” Your lips quiver in fear. His thumb grazes your lower lip as his arm tightens over your back. The tale told by the chieftain crosses his mind. The cursed guardian is you.

“Oh princess, do you think anything else will convince me to live without you in my life? I’ll be wherever you need me to be. Goddess or not, I will never let you out of my sight forever.” He vows, sealing the promise of eternity with a power-clashing kiss.

#goldenclosetnet #btswritingcafe #cypherwritersnet #btsguild #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #bayanihanboost #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #god!jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts angst #jeon jungkook #bts x reader

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lils-of-the-valley · 3 years

Text

Kiss It Better

It was 1 am and I just wanted to write dumb skater boys kissing. I miss writing kisses and they should kiss and be happy and in love. They are in love, but they should also kiss. (Also I'm on mobile so I hope the read more works)

Edit: I forgot to put the AO3 link here Can y'all tell how exhausted I am?

Reki was no stranger to injuries. Really, it was concerning the number of times he had ended up in an emergency room after a skateboarding accident. But the pain barely fazed him anymore, especially not the minor pain of scrapes and bruises. At this point, it was a daily occurrence, either from bailing while skating or from ramming his hip into the corner of a table. The latter was a little more frustrating though.

“Dude, you don’t have to make such a big deal out of it!”

Big blue eyes stared blankly at Reki before diving back into his backpack, rummaging through it. Reki sighed as he leaned back against the concrete, propped up on his elbows, his head hanging back. Langa was being dramatic as ever, making a huge deal out of what was essentially nothing more than a little scrape on Reki’s left hand. Sure, there had been a bit of blood, but the cut was barely visible! It wasn’t anything to panic over. Yet, Langa had insisted that Reki stayed put, right where he had fallen, while he hauled the backpack back to Reki before plopping himself down onto the concrete. He sat cross-legged in front of Reki while he dug through the bag, muttering something about alcohol pads and bandages.

“Those band-aids are for you,” Reki said, his eyes fixated on the swirls of reds and oranges and purples in the sky. The sun had started to set, it seemed. “Since you can’t stand the sight of your own blood. Unlike you, I can handle it. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t need patching up.”

“And I say you do.”

The firmness of Langa’s voice drew Reki’s attention back to him, his piercing blue eyes sending shivers down the boy’s spine. There was something demanding in Langa’s voice, something protective, something… pleading? Langa was worried about him? Given the way he was looking at Reki, it had to be. And Reki couldn’t refuse him, not when he was looking like that.

“Fine!”

Reki huffed as he finally let his body flop down onto the ground. Langa seemed content with the answer, returning to his scavenger hunt through Reki’s bag. This meant that Reki would have to occupy himself without his skateboard since he wasn’t allowed to get onto it until he was fully patched up. Thankfully, the ever-changing clouds in the sky were distracting enough. A bunny. A dolphin. A flower. A-

“Found them!”

A blue sky stared back at Reki, startling the boy. Langa hovered above him, holding a few sealed bandages in front of Reki’s face, a boyish grin contrasting his usual reserved and serious expression. A boyish grin that made Reki’s inside twist, his throat turning dry. He knew he could touch, that Langa wasn’t some porcelain doll that would shatter under his calloused fingers. He knew he could touch, that Langa would never refuse him the pleasure of passing his fingers through the silky blue hair, the pleasure of touching that beautiful pale skin, the pleasure of feeling those soft lips, but still, Reki resisted. Still, Reki held back.

He pressed his palm to Langa’s chest, pushing him away ever so slightly as he pushed himself up on his elbows once more, his eyes avoiding Langa’s general direction.

“Again, I don’t actually need them. The scrapes will be gone in the morning; no use in wasting band-aids on that.”

“But I want to do it for you.” A beat of silence. Then Langa was ducking his head, the blue silk falling in his face and drawing Reki’s eyes back to him. “You know, since you always patch me up after I bail? I want to do that for you. I want to take care of you, Reki.”

Oh! Reki’s heart skipped a beat. Oh, now that was adorable.

How was Reki supposed to turn Langa away when he sounded like that? Looked like that? How could Reki refuse Langa who seemed so small, so vulnerable, and oh so adorable? It was simply impossible. So Reki gave in, gave in like he always did because it was Langa asking and Langa could get him to do anything.

“Fine! Fine!” Reki sat up, presenting his scraped hand to a starry-eyed Langa. “But only because you’re cute.”

“No!” Was that a pout? “You’re the cute one.”

Reki couldn’t help but giggle at the boy. To think that the stoic and socially awkward boy he had met only a little over a year ago could end up being an absolute dork, a dork pouting because he was called cute. Reki never would have believed it if someone had told him that this would be his normal. Reki never would have believed it if someone had told him that Langa would turn out to be this dorky yet adorable boyfriend. His dorky yet adorable boyfriend.

“Well? Are you going to patch me up or are you gonna stare at me all wide-eyed until the scrapes disappear on their own?”

Langa blinked a few times before quickly turning his attention to Reki’s outstretched hand, a ghost of a touch fluttering over the scrapes. Hesitantly, he glanced between Reki’s face and his hand before carefully pulling out an alcohol swab from the makeshift first-aid kit Reki carried everywhere he went. It was pretty obvious that Langa was not in his comfort zone, not used to be the one cleaning wounds. His hands shook ever so slightly as he wiped Reki’s hands clean, but it was the gesture that counted. It didn’t have to be perfect because as long as it was from Langa, then Reki would smile ever so softly as he watched him put on a band-aid with the utmost concentration. It was the kindness and the care that had Reki fall a little more in love with the boy in front of him. It was the little things that made his heart melt.

“And,” Langa pressed one last band-aid to Reki’s palm, his long fingers passing over the fabric before curling around Reki’s, “all done. All clean.”

“Thanks, man.”

As Reki pulled his hand back, Langa’s grip tightened as he tugged the hand back towards him, surprising Reki. He felt his whole face heat up as Langa planted a kiss right in the middle of his palm, slow and careful. Reki barely felt the kiss, but he could see it happening. And he could feel it in his face, the fire that had ignited in his cheeks, in his ears, in his brain. And when Langa’s eyes met Reki’s, lips still pressed against the calloused tanned skin, a smile played on his pretty lips, a smile that drove Reki crazy.

“Kissing it better,” Langa clarified. “You always insist on the magic of kissing it better.”

“You…”

Reki huffed, finally managing to pull his hand back and holding it defensively to his chest. Langa knew what he doing to Reki. He knew that he was the reason why Reki’s face must have matched his hair. He was fully aware that it was entirely his fault and the bastard still had the audacity of looking smug about it.

Reki felt his stomach flip as Langa crawled over him, his weight in Reki’s lap while his arms caged the boy. Something glinted in those blue eyes, something Reki had never seen before. Something that terrified him, but also strangely… exciting?

“Well,” Langa licked at his lips as he glanced down at Reki’s lips, sending an electric shock down the boy’s back, “I could always give you a real kiss if you like.”

Reki’s mind short-circuited at the thought of having Langa’s hot mouth against his. He wanted, he wanted it so badly, but his body tensed at the mere thought of it. He wanted, he wanted with fiber of his body, but he shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“I’ll be real good, I promise.”

“Okay!” Reki half-shouted in embarrassment. He had felt his eyes go wide at Langa’s suggestive tone. He had felt the twist in his gut. His face, his whole body burned as he pressed his hands to Langa’s mouth, pushing him away. Langa laughed against his hand, pretty and muffled. “Man, you can’t just say that to me! You-! I-! Dude! No!”

Reki’s hands dropped onto his lap, squeezed between his thighs while Langa straightened out, still sitting on Reki’s lap. He was laughing, hearty and unguarded, which made Reki’s heart flip. His face was also flushed, his pale skin tinted with reds and pinks. He was so beautiful. Langa was just so beautiful.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he managed to huff out, finally calming his laughter. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Something twisted in Reki once more, though this time it felt more guilty than anything. He just wasn’t particularly good with PDA. Sure, he knew he was an extremely tactile person, his hand constantly brushing against Langa’s, their shoulders bumping as they walked side by side, but everything he did, it could be interpreted as just bros being good ol’ platonic buddies. He had always been a touchy-feely person, especially with Langa, but still, it wasn’t easy being affectionate in a romantic sense. Just holding hands made his hands all sweaty and gross, his nerves getting the best of him. And god forbid they actually kissed in public-! No, Reki wasn’t ready for that. It was just too much. Just the thought was overwhelming him.

“Sorry.” Langa’s voice had gone quiet as he shifted on Reki’s lap. Reki could see he was reluctant to move but ready to do so regardless. “I really didn’t mean to…”

“S’fine, dude. I’m just… public.”

The wind caught in Langa’s hair, pushing it out of his face as he quickly glanced around the dark skatepark. How was he so effortlessly beautiful? How was Langa so damn beautiful all the freaking time? How was it that even under the shitty streetlamp, he still looked like a prince straight out of a fairy-tale? And when he looked at Reki like he was also beautiful, as if he were the only person in the world, it made him melt. Those blue eyes were only for him. Only Kyan Reki would ever get to look into them like this, see the way they sparkled like snowflakes under a bright sun.

“There’s no one around?”

Oh. Was that hope in Langa’s eyes? In his voice? Was it desire? Want? Need? Langa who, despite being reckless and shameless, was always so reserved and good, did he really want to kiss Reki that badly? And since there was no one around… Maybe it would be alright? It wasn’t like they would be interrupted or caught. No one came around this part of town, especially not at this hour.

Reki’s eyes skirted over the deserted skatepark once last time before finding Langa’s eyes once more.

“Just one.”

“Really?” Excitement, that’s what made Langa’s voice just a tad higher than usual.

“You get one kiss. That’s it.”

A grin broke across Langa’s face once more, a grin that made him glow. “Isn’t that what you always say?” Reki sent Langa a look of disapproval to which he answered by putting his hands up defensively. “Fine, fine, just one. If you can stop.”

Reki sighed at the boy before tugging him closer by the collar of his shirt. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

A breathless laugh broke from Langa’s lips before pressing them to Reki’s. Langa was like a drug; his kisses were the most addicting thing Reki had ever come across and it only took one for him to be hooked. His taste filled Reki, his sweetness hazing Reki’s mind. It wasn’t the first time he kissed Langa – it had already been weeks since their first kiss, clumsy in the middle of a shitty movie – but it didn’t mean it didn’t feel completely new each time. It had been weeks since that first kiss, but Reki just couldn’t get enough of his boyfriend’s mouth, of his kisses, of his touch. Especially not when Langa was licking at the seam of Reki’s lips, asking to be let in.

Everything happened in a blissful daze: the arms wrapping around Langa’s neck, the beckoning him closer if that were even possible, the slight fumbling to get comfortable, and the falling back onto the concrete, legs tangling as they always did. Sure, the cold ground wasn’t nearly as comfortable as a mattress, but with Langa’s arms acting like a pillow for Reki’s head, it didn’t matter. Everything was good, so good. It was so good, the feeling of Langa’s short, hot pants between the kisses. It was so good, the mumbling against each other's mouths, their names filling the little air between them. But nothing beat having their lips pressed together, wanting, needing the other. Nothing could ever beat that feeling.

Reki wasn’t proud of the whimper that left his lips as Langa pulled back completely, sitting up. The smirk was a cruel temptation. Langa was no fool; he knew damn well that he was torturing Reki as he shifted in his lap, his whole weight pressed into Reki’s thighs.

“You said one kiss, so,” Langa shrugged, lips pressed in a thin line.

“That was more than one, you fucking tease,” Reki muttered as he propped himself up on his elbows for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.

“Pulling out the big, bad words, huh?” A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to Reki’s lips. Another whimper. Maybe even a moan. Reki wasn’t sure; he just knew he wanted more. “Wanna come over instead? Get some food, put on a movie, probably not watch the movie at all but it doesn’t matter since my mom isn’t-!”

“You stopped kissing me because you’re hungry?”

Laughter fell from Reki’s lips like the stars against the mid-August sky as his forehead hit Langa’s shoulder. He should have known. Langa had seemed hungry for both love-filled kisses and actual food.

Instinctively, Reki’s arms wrapped around the body against which he was pressed, feeling the light rumble of laughter and potentially of an empty stomach against his own body. Langa was warm. He was comfortable. He was safe. Langa was… home.

“Can we watch Spirited Away in your bed? No offense man, but your couch is shit to make out on.”

“You…” Langa shifted, causing Reki to peel himself off of him and look up at him. “You want to watch a kid’s movie while we make out?”

“It’s a good movie! And I’ve seen it like a hundred times, so I won’t be tempted to actually watch it.”

“No. I know you.” Langa’s hands found their way to Reki’s cheeks, holding his face ever so gently. “You’re gonna end up watching it. Again. For the third time this month.”

“Look! Look, it’s not my fault it constantly plays at my place! Chihiro just… she likes the movie because the main character has the same name as her. And I like it because… it’s good, man. Don’t hate on a good movie!”

Langa inhaled sharply, his eyes closed and his hands pressed against his lips. He looked like he was praying to whatever God was out there to hear him. “I can’t believe my boyfriend wants to make out with me while his little sister’s favorite movie plays in the background.”

“Well,” Reki shrugged and flopped back down on the ground, crossing his arms behind his head, “we could also not make out, I don’t care. It would be your loss, man.”

“No!” Langa was once more caging Reki with his arms, but this time, it wasn’t Reki that was panicking. “There is no fucking way I’m letting you off the hook that easily. You-!”

It was always so much fun cutting Langa off with kisses when he got a little too chatty. Every time, it would catch him off guard, his eyes growing three sizes for a fraction of a second before squeezing them shut. And his pale cheeks always turn a bright red, a color that, surprisingly, didn’t often blossom under his skin. Langa was almost always the one initiating the kisses, so having Reki be the one pushing himself up to catch his lips, it always left him a mess. Reki’s surprise kisses turned Stoic Langa, Cold Langa, Ice Prince Langa into this mess of dork, this stuttering and blushing mess of boyfriend.

Reki traced the line of Langa’s jaw, his eyes following the movement of his fingers. He had quickly learned that Langa melted at the touch, which made it a lot easier to convince him to do whatever it was Reki wanted. “You pick the food and I pick the movie or no more kisses for you.”

“Can it at least be Howl’s Moving Castle? I know you like that one too, but at least I won’t have the image of your little sisters seared into my mind while I try to kiss you senseless.”

“Fine, fine.” Reki’s fingers hooked Langa’s chin, beckoning him closer to press another kiss to his mouth. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Reki.” One kiss. “So much.” Two kisses. “Infinitely.”

#i still hate tagging shit #but here we are #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #renga #reki x langa #langa x reki #langa hasegawa #hasegawa langa #langa #kyan reki #reki kyan #reki #fluff #like pure fluff #lils writes

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last-operator-standing · 3 years

Text

Toll of the Bell

Chapter 1 - Ashes to Ashes

> Ao3

> Chapter 2 (tumblr)

Summary: What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn't be that bad either. Or…

Or he could finish the mission.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence, blood & injuries, anxiety

Words: 2k

A/N: This follows the post-ending for my Bell. For the sake of the story, Bell saved Lazar and was forced to leave Park behind, but she still lived. Her explanation will appear in ch 2 ;u; Originally I wasn’t gonna share this but uhhhh here we are! I wasn’t overly happy with the ending of this chapter, but c’est la vie, friends. ;u;

"I'm sorry it turned out this way."

Why? When he tries to speak there's only a pathetic gurgle as the blood spills past his lips.

"I hope you understand."

I don't! Why? I told you the truth! His chest feels tight, like it's being crushed under an invisible force. Was it always this hard to breathe? To think? He can't be sure anymore. So why?! Why..? His fingers are stained in crimson when he lifts his hand from his chest. Why did you shoot me? The words won’t come out. Trembling, his arm falls back to his side, unable to hold it up any longer.

"It was never personal, Bell."

There's a pressure in Bell's right hand as Adler presses something into his palm. His fingers twitch against cool metal - his gun? - but he doesn't have the strength to lift it. He can only stare up at the soft blue sky as his chest burns and he dyes the ground red.

"It wasn't meant to be like this."

I trusted you. Then again, he also trusted Arash Kadivar. Look where that got me. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

There's a darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision. Panic builds and it only makes the desperate burning in his lungs worse. He struggles to force air past the fluid. A terrible bubbling resonates in his chest and Bell idly wonders if he'll drown in his own blood before he bleeds out. I bet this makes you happy. Adler's face slides into view when he kneels beside Bell: His features are blurry and the colors somehow don't feel right. But he's not smiling. He almost looks.. sad.

A hand slides against Bell's cheek, pressing gently, tilting his head a bit to the right and allowing him a clearer view of his would-be murderer. It's easier now to see how Adler's face is pinched downwards in a grimace. Adler stares down at his dying protégé just as much as he stares back, once vibrant emerald eyes now dull and swimming with uncertainty and betrayal as he teeters on the edge of oblivion.

Bell wishes he had something else to dwell on in his final moments. Something that was his and not the manufactured memories pounded into his head by Adler and his trigger phrase. He tries to think back to before the CIA, before MK-Ultra, before Perseus. All he comes up with is Adler's smug smile as he wakes him in Vietnam. Fake. How Sims and he recovered the Russian comms log during Operation Fracture Jaw. Fake. Fending off the VC attack after his bird is knocked from the sky. All of it, fake.

The anguish of knowing there's nothing left of him- the real him- brings a burning to his eyes. Who am I? Bell doesn't realize he's crying until a gloved thumb brushes a tear from his cheek.

"Hey."

Bell's cold. The jacket does nothing to keep him warm. His limbs feel impossibly heavy. Any trail of thought he has slips between his fingers before he has time to complete it. No matter how much he blinks the world stays blurry and he's losing the energy to keep his eyes open. He tries to focus on Adler's face but he's nothing more than a tan smudge against a blue sky.

Bell's so, so tired...

"You did good, kid."

Deep down Bell knew it was always going to end like this. He was never truly part of the team. That was apparent in the way Sims refused to acknowledge him (didn't their time together in Vietnam mean anything?) or in the pitying look Mason would cast his way when he thought Bell wasn't looking (like he somehow understood..)

Above all he knew from the way Hudson spoke about him.

Bell? Don't get me started...

Are you taking him into the KGB with you? Are you crazy ?

If we can't control the asset, we end the asset.

Bell's eyes flutter close and they don't open again. The warmth at his side, Adler's warmth, is only there a moment longer before it pulls away and is gone, leaving Bell alone with only the abyss.

Dying isn't what Bell ever imagined it to be. He feels light, like he's floating amongst the clouds. The coldness has long since seeped away to a numbness and he forgot about the hard concrete below him. Bell can't hear anything, can't feel anything. The abyss swallows him whole. He bathes in its darkness and floats in its silence, drifting through oblivion.

Bell doesn't expect to ever open his eyes again. Without medical intervention, there was no logical way he would survive the bullet in his chest. This makes it all the more jarring when he's dragged into consciousness. He simply lays there at first, the numbness creeping back in and replacing the blissful void of nothingness he felt while unconscious.

It's dark when he finally musters the energy to squint open his eyes. Gone is the calm cliffside in which Adler shot him at. Instead, he's in an unfamiliar room with faded green walls and blankets around him that are far too stiff and cause his aching body to itch . There's railings on either side of him, the kind you'd find on a hospital bed or to prevent children from rolling off the side at night. Voices resonate just behind a closed door. They're hushed and aggressive but Bell can't make out what they're saying. When they fall silent the light beneath the door flicks off and he's left with only a digital clock for illumination.

Bell drifts in and out of awareness. He can't keep track of the passing time. On one occasion there's movement at his bedside and voices filling his ears.

"..ell? B…?"

"Is.. wake..?"

"Damn.. all, he… again.."

"Bell?"

When he looks up, their face is too blurry to make out. Someone joins them at his side, but they are too fuzzy to see as well. Their voices sound like they're speaking underwater; too far and too jumbled to make out. Moments later he's unconscious once more.

It's night again once Bell is able to stay awake properly. He feels heavy but warm and the room spins when he tries to look around. It's not until he tries to raise a hand to calm the spinning that he realizes something is wrong. He only manages to lift his arm a few inches before something stops him. Confused, he tries tugging a few times. A metallic jingle fills his ears. Looking over confirms his suspicions: He's handcuffed to the railing. Swallowing down the building panic, Bell tries the other arm only to find it just as restrained to the opposite railing.

He tries to keep calm. He really does. But it's all too much for him; he should be dead, he knows that. Not chained up inside an unfamiliar room with no idea how or when he got here, or who brought him here in the first place. A memory forces itself to the front of his mind.

Bell woke up to voices. "I gotta admit," the first voice, American, rumbled, drawing his attention. It took some effort but Bell managed to lull his head towards the speaker. Two individuals peered down at him. "I didn't expect him to recover so quickly." His limbs were restrained, preventing any movement. "He's a resilient one," the second person agreed. Bell did his best to hold back his fear and anxiety. This certainly wasn't Perseus nor the KGB, which only meant he was now in the hands of the enemy. He wouldn't let them break him.

Not again. Bell fights against his restraints as hysteria begins to take hold. I can't do this again. Losing his mind once was too much; no way he could withstand being reset a second time. A rapid beep-beep-beep fills his ears but the Russian is too fixated on freeing himself to pay it much attention. A light flips on beneath the door, encouraging him to struggle all the more.

"Bell!" The door flings open. There's hands on his shoulders. "Bell, you're safe!" He thrashes. The light flicks on. "What's going on?" The hands leave Bell's shoulders and move to the sides of his head, forcing him to turn wide-eyed toward a familiar face. "Bell, hey, calm down," Lazar sooths.

Bell falls still from exhaustion. His chest heaves with each rapid breath. Eyes wide, he stares between Lazar at his side and Park, who stands tense at the door.

"Bell-"

"Lazar, what's going on-"

"Park, not now-"

"I knew we couldn't trust him."

"Park, please! You're not helping." The MI6 agent scoffs but relents, leaving Lazar alone with Bell.

Bell trembles with a fear like he's never felt before. "Bell," Lazar tries again with a weak smile. "It's alright. You're safe. We're at an MI6 safehouse. I'm, uh… sorry. About the cuffs. It's the only way Park would agree.."

"How..?" Bell only manages a croak, throat tight.

"Call it a hunch," Lazar offered. "I knew something was off with Adler. Followed you guys. Got there after everything already went down. We tried to patch you up the best we could with the equipment we have here. You've been out for a few days." Bell calms himself and listens intently. The exhaustion is clear on the Russian's face.

"I just.. I feel like I owe you, Bell. You saved my life back in Cuba." Lazar sighs softly. "Park is.. weary. She thinks you'll turn on us now that you've, well," he motions awkward towards Bell. "Now that you've begun to break your programming."

Lazar's face turns serious when he stares into Bell's eyes. "I didn't think it was fair to cut you out of the picture before you had the choice to decide who you really are."

The choice to decide who I really am...

The distress must be noticeable on Bell's face because Lazar suddenly lightens up with a smile and gentle squeeze to his shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. It'll take time, but I'm sure you'll figure it out. You chose to tell the truth, you can't be all that bad, eh?"

Bell's head is a hurricane of emotion despite Lazar's teasing reassurance. Aside from his meeting with Perseus, the implanted memories, and everything that's happened to him in the past couple months, Bell knew nothing about himself. Am I righteous? Am I a terrorist? Just? Prejudice ? If he's honest with himself.. he was terrified of the truth. It was so much easier to be told who he was, to do what he was told, to put his trust in the team and his life in Adler's hands.

Adler.

"Get some rest." Lazar's voice shakes Bell from his thoughts. "We can talk more tomorrow, sort everything out. Don't worry about Park- she's suspicious but she wouldn't hurt you." Somehow, Bell isn't entirely convinced. He doesn't comment on it.

".. Spasiba, Lazar. For saving me."

Lazar pauses at the door and turns. His surprise turns into another small, genuine smile. "No problem, Bell."

Alone once again in the dark, Bell takes a shaky breath. He doesn't realize he's clenching his hands until he feels the ache. It takes some time but he relaxes the best he can and takes stock of his condition. Head throbbing, chest burning, mind buzzing with uncertainty and raw with emotion, but undeniable alive .

"It's always been for the greater good."

There's a feeling he can't quite shake. It brings apprehension. Bell's not sure what will happen next. Will his would-be rescuers turn him in? Will Adler come back to finish the job? Will I ever get my memory back? Many questions burn in the Russian's head and not many answers come to mind. What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn't be that bad either. Or…

Or he could finish the mission.

Whoever he was before Bell may never know. It doesn't matter; that person is dead. The CIA reinvented him and gave life to 'Bell'. Now he has to live with that. Whether or not they like it they gave him a job. Find Perseus and stop him.

He found Perseus once.

He'd find him again.

#cod cold war #russell adler #cod bell #male bell #bocw #lazar azoulay #helen park #i cannot be stopped #jay if (when) you find this #im not sorry #multichapter #fanfic

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emmyrosee · 3 years

Note

Hey darling💗 so what will happen when the little girl starts calling Alex and Bill „dada“? How will the three of them react? Pretty please write this for me 😫

oh... oh honey... This??? Is so cute???? how dare you do this to me???

because right- like i am a firm believer that bill and alex always call you “supermom” or “momma” or stuff like that, especially when Leah is so young and learning how to talk, almost to ensure her first word was some configuration of “mom”

Her first word was actually “peach” but that’s besides the point. Alex heard it first when he was babysitting her as you and Bill were running errands, and despite him not wanting to tell you, being Alex, he accidentally let it slip at dinner.

Anywhore.

With Leah’s first word out of the way, they continued to call you names, just to ensure she knew you were her mommy and when they would say “go to mommy” she’d go to you and not Bill which she’d done more than once much to Alex’s delight.

And then Leah started to get older.

She started to click more, become more observant and randomly look around for someone, though she couldn’t seem to pick who; Alex had bought her some old-school nursery rhyme dvd’s and some baby einstines, like those old tapes for kids to watch and be entertained by and learn with. And while Bill had refused to watch them with her (”I will wipe her ass any day of the week, but I will not subject myself to 2 hours of singing shapes and Old MacDonald Had A Farm”), Alex was more than happy to enjoy and laugh along with her.

When watching educational baby-shows with her, when the narrator would mention mommy, Leah would instantly turn to you and with her tiny little smile exclaim “mumma!” and when the narrator would mention daddy, Leah instinctively looked at Alex; and overtime, this grew into the toddler actually calling Alex “dada” for one reason extremely confusing to all three of you, absolutely crushing Bill.

Because Bill had been the one to bottle feed Leah in the late hours of the night regardless of the time. Bill had been the one carrying her on his shoulders, cleaning her vomit and spit-up and he’d been the one to put her down and wake from her naps more often than not. And while Alex of course did all of those, but he was more “fun” than he was “father.”

And it was heartbreaking to see Bill constantly pouting, wondering what he’d done wrong to make her not see him as a fatherly figure when you know its only because Alex watched those kids shows with her, making her piece it together he was the “dada” to her “mumma.”

So one day, you took a day off of work when Bill was home and Alex was far from town. You packed up an afternoon baggie with diapers, lunch and most importantly, the dvd’s she’d been watching with Alex and you haul Leah and yourself to Bill’s apartment; you knock on his door, and when he opens the green to let you in, he can barely open his mouth to ask what you were doing there before you rushed past him.

“Sit,” you demand, plopping Leah in the middle of the couch.

He groans, “I was busy-”

“And it can wait,” you say firmly, keeping your eyes on him as he finally sits, cooing down at Leah as happily as he could- which you had to give him credit, he was one hell of an actor, but you could tell the sparkle and connection he had with Leah had been tensed. You turn your attention back to the dvd player Bill had specifically for the baby videos. Behind you, you can practically feel the eyeroll Bill sends you, “I told you, I’m not watching-”

“If you would trust me for literally seven seconds,” you hiss. “I promise you, you’ll be fine.” You press play once he sighs in surrender, and you make your way to the couch, crossing your arms over your chest and keeping an eye on the Swede to make sure he wouldn’t leave.

Not that he would anyways; Leah’s eyes were fixated on the screen, her binkie in her mouth and her tiny body clinging to Bill’s side. With his arm around her, you knew he would never disturb her.

Finally, the narrator’s overly jovial voice croons, “let’s meet our family!” which consisted of child-friendly drawings for mothers, fathers, uncles and aunts and grandparents, and once it cycles through the family again, Leah eagerly sits up, grins around her pacifier and points to you.

“Mumma!”

Bill sits up slightly, clearly not excited for what was coming.

“Very good, Lee-Bee!” You say happily, your eyes flicking to Bill. “Where is daddy, baby?”

Her head whips to Bill, and she confidently, and like a puppy, she bounces in his lap, making him groan playfully as a smile finally cracks on his face. You watch as he pokes her to make her giggle, finally pulling her in for a tight hug and blowing a raspberry against her neck, something he always did when she was younger, and she squeals a giggly “daddyyyy!!” around some giggles.

Bill’s eyes practically bug out of his head.

“She called me daddy! She said daddy! She doesn’t even call Alex daddy!”

You nod, “it’s because he watched it with her before. He was just the closest face to match “dada;” so, he’ll be dada, and you’ll be daddy until we can teach her to say your names.” You chuckle, “but believe me, Bill; she doesn’t love Alex more.. she adores you both, believe me.”

Bill’s smile seems cemented on his face as Leah asks “daddy, juice?” around her pacifier, and you chuckle as you pack up the movies.

You three know you’ll have to teach Leah their real names one day; or she’d learn them from you. They weren’t her father, and that was okay. For now, you could all indulge in your titles and you could enjoy the smile on Bill’s face, as well as laugh when she would call Alex “daddy” and Bill “dada” and they’d look at her with complete confusion.

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dolls-self-ships · 3 years

Text

One Thing You Can Taste

synopsis: Hades and Kassandra go on their first official date, but Hades is acting a bit different than usual. Almost like he’s.. *gasp* nervous. You heard it here folks, the big bad god of the underworld is nervous for a date.

ship: pomegranate seeds 🥀 (hades/kasssandra)

(fluff, flirting, a kiss happens, yea)

It wasn’t the ritziest place in Athens, but it was quite a nice restaurant. Kassandra had insisted that Hades didn’t blow too much on what was essentially their first official date. Sure they knew each other and had… something going on, but this was their first actual outing together. And so far, Kassandra had been doing most of the actual, well, dating.

“And then I said-“ Kassandra said through laughter, stopping when she noticed Hades still sitting rather stiffly, which was wildly out of character for his usual relaxed and flow-y self. She looked him up and down with concern. “-hey, you’re usually talking my ear off, I’ve been doing all the work since we got here. Where’s the sarcasm, the witty jokes you always have, what’s up?”

Hades blinked. “Me? Oh uh.. nothin’ nothin’ just.. uh..”

“Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? With me? Pfttt nooo ‘course not! I.. I..” Hades waved a hand, attempting to mask his embarrassment.

Kassandra raised a brow, clearly not buying his facade no matter how much he tried to brush it off. Hades saw this and sighed, his shoulders slopping in defeat.

“Okay.. uh.. l-look-“ he rested his elbows on the table, making a gesture with his hands. “-Iiii haven’t been on a real date.. in.. a while. Y’know I got the Underworld to run and I got all these plans for Olympus and well you get the jist” he fastly explained, trying to mask his nerves with a cool smile. “I’m uh.. heh, I’m a busy guy you know?”

The princess cheekily smiled, feeling like for once she had the upper hand. “So.. you’re nervous?”

A moment of anxiety struck him, with it clearly showing on his face until the god (what he thought was smoothly) attempted to recover but putting on a faux grin. Hades felt he couldn’t admit such a thing, he was a god, gods don’t get nervous. “Nervous? Aheh- well- ah-I-I don’t know about nervous maybe.. maybe outta practice sure but..”Hades trailed off, knowing his desperate clambering to keep his cool was not holding up, the princess saw right through him.

“Alright” he sighed out “you got me red-handed- or y’know I guess blue-handed”

Kassandra giggled, making Hades’s dead heart resurrect itself. “It’s okay.. I’m nervous too.. how would you rate yours? Like.. on a scale of one to ten?”

“Huh?”

“Just answer”

“Okay um… 7….” Hades looked between Kassandra and the floor “and a half”

Kassandra stifled a chuckle, tossing her hair back and leaning forward closer to Hades, looking up at him through her lashes (and simultaneously inciting a tingling feeling throughout the god’s chest and stomach). She really had no idea, because he’d never let her see it, but the princess had the Lord of the Dead himself wrapped around her little mortal finger.

“Alright, we’re gonna do this together. I want you to look around the room and just.. name 5 things you can see.”

Hades was about to ask why, but then realized this was his chance to swoop in and return to being his suave and savvy self. Pretending to look frazzled by glancing around and tapping his chin, he rambled on “oh uh.. gee I don’t know babe, that might be hard since the only thing I’m seeing in this joint right now is you aheh~” he slyly returned his glance to her, with one elbow on the table and the other resting on his hip, complete with his usual cheesy grin.

Kassandra tried to hold back the flustered and giddy feeling he gave her, but her reddened cheeks gave her away. “Hades, I’m serious.” She smirked.

Hades chuckled, putting his hands up in defence. “Alright alright alright” he mumbled “let’s see.. huh..” he glanced up, spotting a somewhat humorous sight from over Kassandras shoulder.

“That waiter guy’s got a paper straw stuck in his back collar” He pointed over to the scrawny young guy waiting tables, prompting Kassandra to glance over her shoulder and look. A snort escaped her throat.

“Should we tell him?”

Hades shrugged. “Nahhh he’ll figure it out. Or hey be stuck with it the rest of the night, who knows”

Kassandra put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Okay, 4 more things, and they don’t.. have to be interesting by the way.”

Hades dipped his head in acknowledgment, scanning the room and pointing at really the first of anything he saw. “Hmmm alright, empty table, chairs… uh… artwork with a very suspicious stain on it, aandddd…” he drummed on the table, turning his head to the table. “Ah, menu. Boom, done, easy.”

Kassandra nodded. “Alright, good. Now list 4 things you can touch.”

Hades leaned back, still confused as to what exactly they were doing. “What is this what are we doing here, is this some sort of game orrr”

She shook her head. “Nope, not a game, just… something I do when I’m feeling a little on edge. Come on, let’s finish this. 4 more senses to go.”

Deciding to go with the flow on this one, even though he really didn’t see or understand how listing things that exist would help, he trusted Kass with this sort of thing.. you know.. feelings. They weren’t his bag but hers? She had the whole suitcase.

“Okayyy uhh.. 4 things I can…?”

“Touch.”

“Touch? Oh, well…” Hades’s expression quickly went from cutely confused to suitably sleazy as he slipped his hand underneath Kassandras’s, taking it while refusing to break eye contact with her. “there’s your… smooth skin” he drawled, using one finger to draw little patterns on her wrist and lower arm while gazing at the princess through hooded eyes. Hades then kissed the back of her hand for 3 looooong seconds before pulling back to see the princess’s pale skin glowing more and more red, which he thought was adorable. Hades casually leaned his arm on the table, taking a lock of Kassandras chestnut hair with his free hand, twirling one of the wispy strands around his finger. “your… soft hair hehehe”

Kassandra felt her breathing become short and her heart rate slowly start to pick up. She wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but she was a little embarrassed as they were kind of out in the open for anyone to see. And if her mother taught her anything, it was that getting all nice and cozy with someone in public was very unladylike.

“Hades, we’re in public.” She whispered, trying to sound stern but it just came out more coquettish than anything.

Hades’s hands retreated, next time, he hold himself as he tried to play it off smoothly. “Alright alright, um..” he let his hands rest on the table and started to feel around, gliding his palms over the smooth surface. “Oh this is some nice wood really smooth what is this mahogany? nice huh?”

Kassandra lifted her hand to feel the smooth surface, finding herself amused by how dramatically he was trying to hype up a table. But that’s just how he was, always trying to ‘sell’ something. “Mhm” she softly agreed. “Okay, one more thing.”

Hades sighed, leaning back trying to think of something. That’s when it hit him. “The chair.”

Kassandra smiled. “Perfect! Alright, what are 3 things you can… hear?”

Hades hummed, looking at the ceiling. “Well… there’s that loud fan that’s been kinda buzzing in my ear this whole time.” He and Kassandra let out a breathy chuckle after he said that.

“And all the people talking in this place is hard to miss dont cha think?”

The woman nodded, briefly glancing at said people before turning back to him. “Aaaanything else?? Just one more thing.”

“Hm.. well, just a second ago my ears were graced with the sound of your sweet sweet voice~”

Kassandra caved, letting out a girlish giggle as her head dipped. She was unable to contain the amount of butterflies he invoked in her. “Okay Romeo, who gave you professional smooth-talker lessons?”

Hades clicked his fingers, shooting her finger guns. “Years of practice, doll face.”

“mhmhm~ what are 2 things you can smell?”

Hades sat up straight, dramatically taking a deep inhale of the air around them. “Oh, mm, that’s a lot of ambrosia someone ordered. Might have to go over there, hah.” he sounded enticed, briefly thinking about how it would taste, which would be delicious as per usual.

Kassandra giggled, gods he was too much. She loved it.

Hades’s yellow-ish eyes trailed back to her, a softer grin curling on his face. “And your perfume.. mmm what is that that is just.. intoxicating~” he made a wafting motion with his hand, as if impersonating a wine taster.

Kassandra laughed, which for Hades, meant mission accomplished. He could listen to that laugh all day, all eternity even. It was like a warm symphony of sirens that rang in his ears.

“Okay.. last one.” She leaned forward, as if getting him ready for the news of his life.

“Hit me babe~”

“Mhm~ this ones tricky, but, what’s one thing you can taste?”

Taste. That one was tricky, they haven’t even gotten their food yet. However…. Hades got an idea.

“Taste huh?”

Kassandra nodded. A small gasp escaped her throat once she felt Hades’s hand slip up to cradle one side of her face. Her eyes darted back and forth between his hand and him.

“I could eh.. think of something..” Hades mumbled with a grin that was half dazed and half flirtatious. His words slipped away from him, too fixated on the princess’s full and.. smooth lips to concentrate on anything quick or witty to say like he usual did.

Kassandra was too breathless for words herself, she could feel her chest tighten as she glanced up and down Hades’s face, gods, he was handsome. Her eyes fluttered as they both leaned in slowly, and for a moment, the room felt quiet. Like they were the only two people there. And once their lips touched, oh, it was like fireworks had went off inside of both of them. Hades was sure he had melted the chair and some parts of the table at least a little by now. The kiss lasted for about 5 seconds before they both pulled away, a small squish noise emitting from both their lips as they separated. Hades missed the sweet taste of her lips already, and he couldn’t wait till later tonight when he could (hopefully) get another.

“Mm..” Hades moaned as if he had just a gourmet meal. “cherry, nnnnice~”

Kassandra, still a little flustered and dazed from the kiss, tilted her head. “Hm?”

“Your lipgloss”

Kassandra’s eyes widened as a wave of embarrassment washed over her. “Oh! Ha! Right. Um… of course…” she breathlessly chuckled as she adjusted herself in her seat, trying to sit up right once again.

Just in time for her, but less ideal for Hades, a posh sounding voice interrupted them.

“So sorry but, has this table been helped yet?”

Quickly, the princess began stammering, haphazardly looking between her date and the waiter that definitely just saw them almost make out in the middle of the restaurant.

And what would you know, it was the waiter with the paper straw in his collar.

“Ah,, y-yes, We’-we’re just waiting.” Kassandra declared politely, trying to mask her slight disappointment that their moment was now kind of ruined as she cleared her throat and looked at her lap, then back up at Hades.

The waiter smiled, “ah, very good.” And nodded before taking off.

Hades, despite his current gripes with that boy in particular for interrupting their little moment, stopped him in his tracks.

“Uh, hey! Kid, you uh.. got somethin stuck in your collar there.” Hades gestured with his fingers to his back, hoping that would get the message across.

The waiter hummed and reached behind him, pulling out the straw that had been stuck there. “Oh, uh, thank you, sir! That’s.. ha- embarrassing.” The now blushing waiter stammered, attempting to exit cooly with the straw still in his hand.

Hades chuckled. “You think he woulda felt that huh?”

Kassandra turned back to him, shrugging. “Yeah… I guess he was just too busy to notice.”

Hades nodded, turning his head and mumbling “not too busy to interrupt us though that’s for sure”

Kassandra gave him a look, to which Hades grinned with faux innocence, acting as if he had done nothing wrong. “Whaaat?”

“Hades, be nice.” She half-jokingly scolded him, if he was gonna be around her he’d have to get used to the whole ‘being kind to people’ thing. Again, no bag, her suitcase.

“Heyyyy I’m a saint! a cherub even” he innocently batted his eyes with a grin in likeness, hoping that’d get him to cute his way out of her disappointment.

And oh, it did, works like a charm every time. A melodic giggle escaped Kassandras throat.

A second of silence passed. “So… Wh-what was the point of that whole… senses thing we just did?” Hades asked with boyish curiosity.

Kassandra perked up, quite happy he actually seemed interested to know. “Oh, uh, it’s just an anxiety thing. I learnt about it in my years working with a doctor and phycologist, Hypocrities, he was hired by my mother for the kingdom at the time… do you know him?”

Hades’s eyebrows knitted together, remembering the time that doctor started curing actual dead people in his domain. DEAD PEOPLE. Ohh he knew him alright. “Yeah, yeah I’ve heard of the guy.”

Kassandra nodded. “It’s supposed to just.. remind yourself that you’re here, like, grounding.”

“Huh”

“So how do you feel now?”

Hades blinked, looking into the earnest eyes of the princess. He felt himself melting inside, his lips slipped into a rare, genuine smile. “Good, I.. I feel good.”

Kassandra beamed, happy to see he was feeling better now. “Great! I’m glad” her tone was so sweet it was like she actually spoke with little hearts at the end of her sentence.

Hades could tell this was gonna be a good first date.

#this was all I did today please be nice #bees self ships #hades #self shipping #self ship #self ship community #self ships #self insert #self ship fan fiction #idk I just thought this would be cute like a scene in an 80’s rom com or something idk 😩

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alkhale · 4 years

Text

Typetober Day 8: encounters and partings

In light of a Memos update coming veeeerrrryyyyy sooooooon (to the reader who asked for an update because today was their birthday, i’m sorry i wasn’t able to make it :( but i promise i’ll make it up to you! hope you had an amazing one <3)

A flurry of bodies rushed past her legs, nearly toppling her over. Hoku wobbled, grabbing the wooden pillar of the shop beside her before she could fall flat on her face. She scowled, whirling around with one hand curled into a fist. “Hey! Stupid brats, watch where you’re going! You could get someone killed!”

“Sorry, lady!” one of the boys hollered, breaking out into a chorus of laughter as they ran. The smallest one tripped, forcing the other two to brake on their heels. They quickly rushed back, hauling him up by his arms and running away with him in tow.

Hoku stopped at the sight, fist loosening in the air. She felt a little quiet all of a sudden, staring at their backs as the three boys laughed, heads tossed high and smiles bright until they disappeared entirely from sight.

“Hoku, you’re too slow!”

“Put more effort into it!”

“We’re gonna leave you behind!”

“My star, is something wrong?”

Hoku’s fingers uncurled from her fist. She dropped her hand back down to her side, staring after the empty space between the crowd.

No. She thought back, reaching behind her to touch Mau’s hilt before she shook her head, turning toward the shop and stepping inside. “It’s nothing.”

Hoku fixed the tie under her chin. Her hood stayed well in place, hiding the bright white hair she’d tucked away for the sake of a little stealth. The island ought to be fine for now since she was just picking up supplies before her next raid, but she couldn’t be too careful. I have to think ahead. I have to be smart.

There wasn’t anyone else around to do it for her.

C’mon, it’s not like I haven’t done this solo thing before. Hoku shook her head, making her way to the back counter of the shop. Her order from last night should be ready by now, so she’d be in and out without a hitch. It’s nothing new.

But it was a bit new. When you’d had something for so long and were forced to live without it, everything became new.

You know what you’ve got to do.

“I’m here to pick up an order from last night,” Hoku said to the man at the counter.

His eyes flickered in recognition at the mark around her eye and he nodded, shuffling to the back. There was another man at the counter, waiting for his own order. Hoku stopped a polite distance away from him, folding her hands in front of her and waiting, trying to map out how she’d make it to the next marine base without setting off an entire armada. It’s located at the center of the island, so it’ll be a little harder to make the runaway. Can I really handle just going in and getting what I need without causing a fuss? Not causing a fuss had never really been the Straw Hat Pirate’s motto.

Hoku ignored the tightness in her stomach in the heavy weight in her chest. You’re just getting sentimental. Suck it up.

She glanced to the side, watching the other man at the counter inspect bottles of ink in an attempt to distract herself. He was pretty well-dressed for this part of town. Maybe from the rick mansions up the hillside? Hoku blinked once, watching the thick, gloppy substance churn inside. Ugh, that’s not going to sit well on paper. It would probably bleed right through. It’d stain the brush too. Terrible quality. Don’t buy it, man. It’s not worth it.

He ran a gloved thumb over the label, seemingly fixated on it. Hoku’s eyes swept along, squinting suspiciously when his gloved fingers rolled a heavy bottle to the side, showing its brand.

“Pokian ink?” Hoku said out loud in disbelief. “That’s supposed to be Pokian ink?”

The man paused, his fingers halting over the bottle. Hoku flinched in realization, cursing herself as he started to turn toward her. She quickly whipped her gaze down, making sure her hood kept her covered from his line of sight. There’d been a flash of wavy blonde from his hair underneath his top hat, the collar of his dark coat folded down over his carvat. Don’t make a scene, you dumbass.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was amiable, nice and pleasant. She’d almost say charming, but Hoku had the displeasure of meeting plenty of people with personalities that didn’t match the nice tone of their voice. “Did you... are you familiar? With ink, I mean.”

Hoku considered keeping her mouth shut and just coming off as some rude weirdo. He probably wouldn’t bother her if she just kept quiet and let it go.

“What do you need it for?” Hoku said. She should stab herself in the foot. She really should. “Just for writing?”

“That would be ideal,” he said, sounding a bit relieved for the conversation. He turned his entire body to her, opening up his body language but Hoku kept her gaze forward, refusing to turn her face. “I... I was looking a bit into ink that might be good for painting, though I’m not very good at it.”

“You should buy paint then, not ink,” Hoku said automatically. He seemed a bit surrpised. “If, I mean, you’re going to paint. You can paint with ink, but they’re different for a reason.”

Hoku pointed a finger to the jar in his hands, not turning once. “That’s not good quality for either. Real Pokian ink doesn’t look like that. It’ll have a smooth, thick texture, depending on what it’s for. It might even seem clear sometimes, pinkish. Usually it can be found in black though, but you can tell through a jar by the way it slides when you turn it. Should move like blood.”

“I see,” he said, sounding a little amazed. Hoku nodded, curt. “I... You’re very knowledgable. Are you well-versed with Pokian crafts?”

“...I know a bit,” Hoku said, giving herself a pat on the back for not saying anything else. “Just trust me on this though.”

“I will then,” he said warmly. Hoku blinked, a bit pleased by his compliance. “Sorry,” he laughed. “Do I seem gullible?”

Yikes. Am I that easy to read? “No,” she said, “I’m glad you trust me.”

“It does seem like someone who wouldn’t know the truth wouldn’t have much to say,” he said, a little sly as he dragged his finger down the ink bottle and set it down. “Do you see fraud like this often?”

“Too much,” Hoku said instantly. She pressed her lips into a tight line at his boyish laugh. “Just... Just know most real Pokian works won’t typically say they are.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said with a small laugh. “Do you have anymore tips?”

“Not really,” Hoku forced herself to say. “If you’ve got a good eye, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Hoku tried to stifle her curiosity. “...you a collector of some kind?”

“No, nothing of the sorts,” he said quietly. There was something a bit sad to his tone, a little lost. Hoku raised a brow, turning a tiny bit. “I’m... I’m fond of the culture, I suppose. It... It feels like knowing more will help me find something I’ve lost.”

“...oh, yeah?” Hoku said, turning a tiny bit more. He hummed, soft in response. “What did you lose?”

“...something very important,” he said quietly. Hoku fell silent. “I wasn’t able to... no, I’m going to try to think a little more positively. I’m still looking. I have to keep looking.”

Hoku said nothing, keeping her eyes forward, hoping a bit for his desperate sake he’d find what he was looking for too. Lost something important, huh.

Her chest ached.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he said politely, reaching his hand over to catch her attention. Hoku half turned. The man behind the counter was returning with her bag as well. “I... Feel free to say otherwise, but if I were to be looking for someone of Pokian descent—not for bad intentions! More... more for a specific person, do you know what would be the best way to find them?”

Hoku debated the words on her tongue. Half of her had a mind to just grab her bag over the counter and leave. He seems earnest though. His questions were weird and she didn’t like people poking around into Pokian business with unsavory intentions. But is it even my business if it’s just one person he’s looking for? What if it’s an old flame or a friend or maybe even family? Distant? Who knows?

She didn’t really owe him anything either.

“It depends on the person, you never really know unless you’ve got the right information,” Hoku decided. She grabbed her bag across the counter, already sensing his disappointment in waves. From the corner of her eye she saw his shoulders slump, hands falling down in front of him. “But if it’s just one Pokian in particular you’re looking for...”

Hoku lightly tapped the side of her head on the outside of her hood. He paused. “You should look for their coming of age mark. If you remember what it looks like or where they had theirs... you can’t miss them.”

“...I’ll remember that,” he said, sounding a bit more hopeful, a little... a little curious? “I... Thank you, miss.”

“You’re welcome,” Hoku said simply. She threw her bag over her shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Thank you—“

The doors to the shop slammed open, smacking into either wall. The shopkeep fled to the back of the store and Hoku froze, staring at the entrance as three marines searched before their eyes landed on her.

“There she is!”

Son of a bitch! The man beside Hoku froze, growing rigid as he raised one hand. Hoku whipped her head to the side.

She didn’t hesitate, taking off. The marines flooded into the store and the man at the counter turned, his eyes following her in wide surprise as she jumped onto a table and leapt through the window feet first, boots smashing through the glass and flinging herself outside.

The wind ripped her hood back. Paper white hair spilled out, brushing over her face.

He stopped, frozen.

Wait.

Hoku ran, ducking into an alleyway as the marines tried to tail after her. If there’s a few, there’s more. They’re like cockroaches. She clambored onto a roof, ducking as a group ran past. She quickly took out her brush, drawing onto the thatching and pulling the bird free from the wood. Hoku blew across it, mumbling under her breath as it expanded, unfurling its wings with a resounding flap.

“Excuse me!” Hoku whirled around in surprise. The guy from the shop? “Excuse me! Wait! Please, wait a second—”

Hoku’s eyes caught the flash of blue and white uniforms. She shook her head, jumping onto her bird and taking off. It beat its massive wings once, shaking its beak in protest before it took off into the sky, leaving everyone behind.

“Wait, please! Wait! Wait! Please, wait—“

Hoku didn’t look back.

“Hoku?”

Hoku stopped. Her bird continued to fly beneath her, taking them further and further away from the marines. She blinked, mind whirring as she quietly turned behind her, staring in confusion.

“Guess I heard wrong,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Let’s go.”

Her bird banked beneath her, taking them far, far away.

“There he is! Hack! I found him! Where did you run off to—huh?” Koala’s eyes went wide, hands flying up into the air as she stopped just short of giving her friend a playful shove. “I—oh my goodness, are you okay?”

He sat, slumped over the top of the roof. His hands hung limply in his lap, gloved fingers clinging to a loose leaf of paper he’d tugged hastily out of his breast pocket. He stared out into the sky, looking forlorn and lost.

“What happened?” Koala asked, crouching down beside him. “Are you alright?”

“...I,” he stopped, looking down at the paper in his hands. “I don’t really know.”

Koala frowned, lightly rubbing her hand against his back. He ran his thumb across the carefully inked marking, curved like half a heart and smeared at just the bottom, like someone had bumped into them in the middle of it.

Sabo gently folded it back up, tucking it into his pocket, right beside his heart.

Was it even you?

#memos #hoku #typetober #alktypetober #sabo #HoBo #koala #one piece koala #hack

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fallen-in-dreams · 3 years

Text

Mon Amant

Also on AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Kakashi. Summary: She wasn't a fantasy to him. She wasn't a wet dream. She was the real thing. For KakaSaku Month 2021. Post-war. *Mon Amant - my lover* Prompt: (Week 2, Day 4: May 13) The Heart Wants What It Wants. Rated: Mature Words: 7,346. Status: Complete.

Author note: Lots of angst and post-war life evaluation and some smut.

Thank-you so much @kakasaku-haven for hosting this. It’s already the 13th where I live so I hope it’s okay to post this now. :)

Enjoy. ^_^

. She bit her bottom lip in both nervousness and consternation. All these warm bodies gyrating, and she was beginning to think this party was just an excuse to hook up. But the funds raised were going to a good cause, so there was no point in complaining. Everyone wore their masquerade masks well, especially the man currently holding his hand out to her, silently asking for a dance. She smiled and accepted his hand, letting him lead her to the dancefloor. He had a henge on and so she couldn’t tell if his mask covered his upper or lower face, which was frustrating. But he held her delicately, danced like he owned the stage, and looked at her like she was the world, and she was quickly and easily enamoured. And when they slipped out the back to fuck, everything just came naturally. There was groping that came with one-night stands in alleyways. There was murmuring but very little kissing, as one would expect from clandestine trysts. And when she wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning at the wonderful feeling of him filling her, there was no pretending she didn’t like it rough. He was still a mystery to her, then. There was no way that he didn’t know exactly who she was, but his mask stayed on his face the entire time. .

Images of her wrapped around him, biting her bottom lip, clawing his back and scrunching her eyes as he came inside of her...they tormented him. Not because his lusting after his former student was some wet dream fixation he couldn't get out of his head. Not because he couldn't have her, and imagining her breasts bouncing as he fucked her against some random wall was a major factor of his night-time fantasies. She tormented him because he couldn't get enough of her.

The first time they had sex was in the back room of a bar during the first annual allied shinobi celebrations – a masked function that was so successful that the powers that be decided to keep the theme for every event. It was supposed to maintain the appearance of cooperation and friendship between the nations while giving people the freedom and confidence to mingle without previous prejudice. During the seven days leading up to it there were competitions and friendly tournaments but on that final (and only masquerade) night, the lines between their countrymen blurred and the drink flowed as heavily as the reduced inhibitions did.

Relations between nations had never been so good.

The original plan was to hold the masquerade in neutral areas until Naruto suggested they rotate the host between each nation. That meant that it would take five whole years for every village to have their turn, and five whole years of people hooking up with a foreign shinobi; the allure of the mystery and no-strings-attached sex brought in hordes of ninja. Not to mention the village pride that spiked during the friendly matches leading up to it. They had to have multiple festivities and new buildings set up to cater to everyone. Which was also seen as a competition between the Kage on who could hold the best event. And who could help out war victims more. And who had the best booze. The list of things they competed over were endless.

If it meant peace would reign, it was worth it. But Kakashi’s problems were more important.

Every year and new festival brought him closer to Sakura. Each time he’d don his henge and backwards mask he’d take her to a secluded area and do things to her that he’d never imagined she would love to have done to her.

Every inch of her skin was his to worship.

But the months between their trysts were the hardest. Lonely nights remembering how she felt wrapped around him were driving him mad. She would never accept him in the light of day, so he was resigned to taking those annual moments when Sakura Haruno let loose enough to fuck a complete stranger.

And he was an impatient man as much as he was a self-hating masochist.

His heart wouldn’t be able to take it forever.

.:.

As she came down from her high Sakura gripped his butt with both hands and squeezed, giggling when he jerked slightly. It wasn’t a teasing, flirtatious smile that adorned her face when he looked down at her, surprised. Was she making fun of him? She’d never done that before. Sakura giggled again, and she pressed herself further into him. She let herself relax. He was still inside her and softening but she liked it. The slow circles she traced over his back were born from laziness and contentment. It felt like she was attempting to haphazardly cover him in ninja symbols but due to the drag of her movement, he couldn’t tell which ones. “Are you drawing jutsu on me?” Sakura pulled back and looked up at him. His voice was deeper than usual. She smiled. “Are you pretending to be a shinobi?” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe I am.” “Hm. And I’m pretending to be Cinderella. Fuck me until midnight, but I’m the one that turns back into a pumpkin.” That was a weird thing to say to someone you thought was a stranger. He frowned. ��Who does that make me?” “The Prince-who-isn’t-actually-Charming.” “Huh.” He smiled at that. “That sounds like me.” She just hummed, wiggling her butt as it started to numb, pressed against the brick-and-mortar wall behind her. Her fingers grasped at his chin, feeling bare skin and her question on what type of mask he was wearing behind that henge was answered. Kakashi’s hand flew up to grasp her quickly and she gasped at his speed and the intensity of it. He didn’t want to show her. He’d flee if she pushed him. She released her hold and he reciprocated. But Sakura wasn’t finished yet. She would push him in other ways. “Why the disguise?” .

And fucking her was the only thing keeping him sane.

That was a bad thing. He should be able to handle this post-war funk he'd found himself in without banging his former student. He was a sick, sick old man. And to top it off, she didn't even know it had been him. Every. Single. Time. They. Fucked.

Made love...they made love.

Kakashi shook his head, trying to dispel the thought from his head. It wasn't making love; they'd only ever fucked in crowded pubs and clubs or the back alley of said establishments. The end of the war saw a rise in celebrations, and everyone knew that Kakashi Hatake didn't do celebrations. He always made his excuses on that masquerade night and disappeared until dawn. He didn’t do big crowds and frolicking, so no-one questioned him.

I just do Sakura.

Bad thoughts...he covered his eyes with his right hand, fingering the flask of sake in his left hand, and groaned out loud. Sakura didn't know her mysterious lover was him. But he knew full well it was her. He was taking advantage of her. He had been since she turned eighteen, and he hated himself for it. Their first time had happened because Sasuke had rejected her and refused to let her on the list of approved guests during his stay at the new allied prison – and then when he got out, he treated her like she was a stranger; the only times he acknowledges her was in team missions, outings and spars. She had been suffering that night, which was why she’d gone to the masquerade, and Kakashi had known it.

“Kakashi?”

He didn’t turn to acknowledge Yamato; the other man had made it his mission to get Kakashi out of his funk, but it wasn’t working. Sometimes Kakashi day-dreamed about strangling the wood style user with his own jutsu. Wrapping vines around his throat while pretending he couldn’t hear his cries for mercy calmed him enough to not try it. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Just thought you should know that the council is trying to make you Hokage again.”

Kakashi groaned loudly; it was the only reaction Yamato was going to get from him, so the wood style user quietly shuffled away.

Maybe he’s finally learning to just leave me alone.

Or maybe it was just his only reason for hunting him down this time. It didn’t matter. His turbulent thoughts weren’t large enough to house concerns over Yamato’s interruptions as well. Kakashi set aside time to wallow in self-pity – over the years he’d perfected that art – and didn’t like being interrupted while doing so. But after the war that self-pity had turned into anger which eventually morphed into fear (of the future) and finally settled into what he supposed was a mix between wistfulness and regret. Add Sakura to the pile of things he did to hurt himself and something was going to burst soon.

How had his life come to this?

Kakashi frowned down at the broken memorial that once held Obito’s name. How could a rogue ninja have screwed him over so thoroughly, twice, that the only time he felt whole and complete was when he was fucking his former student? Obito’s pain had turned him into something twisted and blind but Kakashi had promised himself never to take that path. He’d fight that lingering darkness even if it meant taking something he didn’t deserve.

He groaned. That was enough whining for the day.

“You got off easy,” he told the epitaph before teleporting away.

.:.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk.” She frowned as he ran a hand down her side; letting out a sigh of anticipation. What kind of line was that? Did that really work on other women? But oh gods, when he rubbed her clit just like THAT she couldn’t complain. He hit her hard and fast, moving those talented fingers right over the spots he’d learned were her weakness. Fuck it, she needed him. But they always did it against a wall and she was beginning to think he believed it was the only way he could take her. What about a bed? What about letting her on top? But those rebellious thoughts quickly lost cohesion as he drove into her. All she was now, was a puddle of wet, slap happy moans and quivering pleas to an unknown deity. She was definitely going to have trouble walking after this. When she did finally come down from the white-hot bliss that Kakashi never failed to provide for her, Sakura decided she’d bug him about changing things up next time. But twelve months was a long time to wait for what she desperately wanted from him. .

The war had left many orphans, shinobi or not, and the homeless outnumbered the dead – most of which were civilian. This count included all nations, as it was public knowledge that the world's shinobi force had been cut by the thousands. So, in light of this, the great nations set up a number of fundraisers, the funds would go to rebuilding homes and replacing personnel. Even the Feudal Lords were getting in on it, donating money to make themselves look good – it was a political move, given that they hadn't had anything to do with the success of the war. But it was still welcomed. And needed.

And nobody deserved that praise more than people like Kurenai. She was determined to find love again, one day, after Asuma, but for now her attention was on all the children also caught by the ravages of war. She had her daughter as inspiration and Yamato’s help to set up a new complex on the outskirts of Konoha – the existing orphanages were too overrun to take them all.

It became her raison d'etre.

Kakashi knew all this because he’d volunteered his dogs as a weekly entertainment for the little brats. After the first few months he let himself be dragged into babysitting a few, nostalgic for the good old Team Seven days when someone was both surprised and in awe over his charming wit. Kurenai must’ve been doing something right because these kids were far more well-behaved than his old team had ever been.

Sakura.

Unbidden thoughts were best shoved to the back of his brain.

Kurenai’s Home for the Homeless also took over a portion of Kakashi’s life. After his role in the creating of the war he needed to give back something. The ninja nations would quickly recover their old strength, but the civilians would be slower to mend. So, he focused his efforts there.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of helping us this time,” Pakkun warned him.

Kakashi gave him his best smile. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Pakkun huffed at him but said nothing more as he dived into the group of kids who were waiting for him. Their laughter and squealing made Kakashi’s eye twitch, but he kept the smile plastered to his face. And even with his mask on – which the kids had already repeatedly tried and failed to remove – they could tell it was a genuine smile, nonetheless.

This was his seclusion away from his ninja life. So, when Sakura came into the home one late Monday afternoon, Kakashi had a moment of panic – he’d gone out of his way to either avoid her or schedule their unavoidable interactions and he never would’ve believed that homeless shelter was a place she’d willingly visit. Sakura had her own demons regarding the war; her failed attempt at a relationship with Sasuke was the least of her concerns it seemed. She frequently woke from nightmares. And he’d heard she’d had some bad news regarding her fertility.

I’m such a stalker.

So, the reminder of innocence – the children who bore the brunt of the fallout of a war that should never have touched them – should be too much to bear, right?

She looked over at him and smiled her tired smile. He found himself instinctively smiling back. A tugging sensation began at his navel and twisted and heated up as it quickly travelled south.

Not now.

But then Kurenai caught her attention and that coil snapped.

Kurenai.

Kakashi contemplated mimicking Kurenai and trying to move on from his pathetic mindset. He could ask her out, or someone out, and forget all about the calming warmth and somehow simultaneous ferociousness that Sakura invoked in him. But he knew from experience that he would just mope. He would just use it as an excuse to internally ramble about his life mistakes and hate himself. He was still going to Obito’s so-called grave, after all. The man had murdered innocents and started a war but Kakashi still mourned him.

He wasn’t ready to move on, though. Not yet. And certainly not with anyone but Sakura. Or with her.

Kakashi sighed, rubbing his eye where the Sharingan used to be. And he was still moping.

.:.

The fundraiser was in full swing again; the familiar sight of shinobi from all nations done up in masquerade and dancing and drinking warmed even the most aloof and stubborn hearts among them. The Raikage had outdone himself with floating baubles and lanterns with music that played off the masked theme. He’d imported some band from across the Northern Sea to play until midnight. Like it was some Cinderella ball and the Raikage was looking for his own prince. Sakura smiled at that as she made her way through the streets of the village hidden in the cloud. It was her first actual visit to this part of the land of lightning and she was buzzed from the excitement of it all. Ino was off doing her thing – or doing some cloud ninja, who knew – and Sakura was content to lazily explore the village while keeping her eye out for her ex-sensei. He always made excuses to not directly participate in the festivities, but he was Hokage now. He needed to at least be here. She pitied the ninja who had to remain in their home village as a part of their skeleton crew during these festivities. They were mostly just lower levelled shinobi (and those who either didn’t want to travel or couldn’t) anyway. Ones that didn’t participate in the war were usually shafted to that position too. These festivities were mostly for the survivors. It sounded elitist, but Sakura wasn’t too worried about that. They deserved this. It took her an hour to realise she was being followed – she blamed the alcohol now swarming in her system. But like she couldn’t tell who he was, the baka. He never did fully appreciate her natural talents with genjutsu. She led him on a bit of a merry chase and allowed him to catch her near the temporary accommodations for foreign ninja but the moment his hands found her waist he manoeuvred her toward the nearest alley way. What was with him? Sakura could do little other than moan as he pressed her against the stone wall, face first. He worked on her clit as he grabbed her tits, seemingly not wanting to be tender, again. When he did let his guard down and be gentle with her, they headed into territory that neither was ready for. Okay. She could go with this. Sakura pushed her arse into him, rewarding him for his attentiveness to her body. “Yes, fuck, like that! Please!” He quickly dispensed of any more formalities and Kakashi undid his pants in record time before driving into her, squeezing his eyes shut to the hypocritical mantra in his head. He didn’t want this but so desperately did at the same time. Sakura didn’t bother keeping quiet, ignoring the occasional passer-by of the alleyway who was momentarily drawn by the sound of her cries. When they realised it wasn’t someone being attacked, they quickly scuttled off. She didn’t even care if any of them recognised her as the former Hokage's protégé. Sakura came hard at that thought and trembled as Kakashi rode out the last few strokes whispering naughty things in her ear. She didn’t want this to end here. It wasn’t her orgasm making her tremble as the thought occurred to her. She wanted to see ALL of him. She pushed him to pull out of her and then shakily spun around on the spot. Sakura sucked in a deep breath for courage and forced herself to sound calm as she asked, “my place or yours, next?” Her fingers were like fire as they caressed his arm. Kakashi could only pant in response, struggling to hold himself up as she put bad thoughts in his head. She waited patiently, clearly expecting a response. Did he dare to hope? Maybe she was just basking in her own afterglow and didn’t mean it. Because she had no idea who he was. But when he finally recovered enough to pull back and stare into those unfathomably beautiful, emerald eyes of hers he realised she was serious. She wanted to know who he was. There was no doubt he was the same man she’d been fucking annually, this whole time. And she was ready to really know him… maybe? Kakashi felt shame and fear rush through him. And fled .

He was such a coward. It was so easy to love and leave her. Much easier than admitting how he felt. And infinitely easier than removing his henge and accepting whatever recriminations she had for him.

“You still sulking?”

Gai couldn’t come and annoy him as often as he used to so Yamato had taken up that mantle. But at least he didn’t wax poetic about youth and all that crap. Not that Kakashi wasn’t feeling like he didn’t need a pick-me-up, but Yamato’s style was decidedly less annoying. When sober.

He decided to humour him, since masochism was the least he deserved after that last run-in with Sakura.

“Just about the naughty fun I had in Kumo last week.”

Yamato scoffed. ��I don’t drink nearly enough to be hearing that.”

“You drink enough for the both of us.”

He wasn’t going to pull the I-missed-out-on-the-war-so-I-get-to-complain-more-than-you card. Yamato may have been captured but he didn’t watch his comrades die in front of him. Not this time, anyway. Kakashi had no idea how much of the experimentation Kabuto did on him that he remembered. Did it change his chakra? Did it leave him with nightmares? Did he have to buy new sheets for his bed every week because of how much he tore them up when he could actually get some semblance of sleep?

Did he remember nothing at all?

Kakashi would’ve liked to have slept through the war, if it was still a guarantee they’d have won. That Infinite Tsukuyomi might have been beyond stupid, but the lure of peace was enticing. Still, he bore his pain. Even if he did run from it from time to time.

From Sakura, you mean, old man.

He chuckled, surprising Yamato.

“Did you hit your head, Kakashi-senpai?”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore.”

He was Hokage now, after all.

“Some habits are worth not breaking.”

“Hm. If they annoy me, you mean.”

“That’s the spirit. Laugh at my expense, like you always do.”

Kakashi looked over at him and felt himself relax at the teasing look on the other man’s face. It was a welcomed respite that he knew he didn’t deserve. “Right.”

“By the way, Sakura’s looking for you. Might want to head on over to her place later to find out what about or risk the almighty wrath. See you later.”

Yamato left him to his thoughts then, not knowing how dark they’d turn in his absence.

As far as he could tell she wasn’t dating anyone, though he didn’t stalk her enough to know if she occasionally scratched the same itch that he scratched every year. He didn’t want to know if some other guy had been inside her.

Kakashi was well aware that the best way to combat this would be to confess to her and hope she didn’t pound him into the ground, but like he said: he was a coward. He was too used to seeing her as his student. Too used to the self-flagellation of only getting to hold her once every twelve months. He was too comfortable with the barely-see-each-other routine they had going that didn’t make his heart race. He didn’t even know how to begin that conversation with her.

And the Hokage shouldn’t be dallying with a former student.

Kakashi sighed again, running a hand along the graffiti on Obito’s memorial.

As the years droned on so did his monotonous excuses.

.:.

This time he let her pin him to the wall. Because she liked it. And because she could. He groaned into her mouth as she worked her hand over the bulge in his pants, her knees on either side of his left leg. Dry humping seemed to make him even harder, so she kept at him, working him into a tizzy. It was going to be even harder for her this time, if she didn’t slow down. But Sakura was the one in control, so she used her strength to keep him from flipping their positions and taking charge, kissing her way up his bare neck as she did so. When she bit his earlobe, he bucked against her and Sakura slid her hand back down to his pants. But this freed him up somewhat and the disguised Hokage grasped her hips and pressed so hard she knew come morning there’d be a bruise. “Let me show you how much you deserve to be fucked.” Old words that never failed to turn her on, regardless. The fucking part of this interlude was over and before she knew it, her back was against the wall again. So he’d only let her take over for the foreplay? Arsehole. Sakura was feeling petty as Kakashi lifted her left leg over his hip and pushed into her with no more preamble. She gripped his butt harder than necessary, scratched down his back knowing it was going to scar if she didn’t heal it soon, and bit his lip when he leant into kiss her so hard, she tasted blood. “Fuck.” And he liked it. “Fuck,” She echoed his sentiments and cried into his mouth as he took her in the familiar position. She focused on hurting him wherever she could and was rewarded with his groans and fast approaching orgasm. There was no way Sakura was letting this become a once-a-year thing anymore. She wanted this forever. She needed him. “Kakashi…” Did she just…? It didn’t matter, his orgasm was ripping through his body and he was helpless to focus on anything else. Her sudden need to cause him physical distress didn’t bother him – he already had too many scars, anyway. It was a form of masochism and he wondered, as he spilled into her and screamed his release, if she would be up to donning the master title if they ever took this to the bedroom. He could be a very good slave. Fantasies drifted away from him as reality sunk in and he pressed the full length of his body against hers, his face in the crook of her neck as he breathed in her unique scent. It never failed to do him in. But this, whatever it was, needed to either stop or become something more. Sakura was the first to move and adjust her clothing. He stood there, his dick hanging out and unabashed about it, and watched her tuck her knickers back into place. “I won’t wait much longer,” she said enigmatically before turning away from him. Did she realise she’d called out his name? Sakura sashayed away from him. He watched her hips as she went. And narrowed his eyes at her. Yes. She knew. .

Sakura pressed a hand to Bull’s head as the dog stared at her blankly. Kakashi’s ninken was warm to the touch, unlike the man in question. He’d been so cold with her, except for those nights. The annual celebrations had become her ritual too, not just his. One night to forget who she really was, who she was supposed to be. To put her troubles aside and just feel again.

But her time of mourning was over. Even if she did occasionally flit between this fact and her self-pitying thoughts in her head.

Kurenai watched her quietly. As the only person Sakura had confided in, regarding her feelings for Kakashi, she was also a very good listener. The older woman didn’t know they fucked once a year, but she knew more than anyone else.

Sakura removed her hand from Bull and returned it to the brush she’d been using.

“You should ask him out.”

“He deserves better.”

“Maybe you are that better,” Kurenai said, smiling at Sakura’s snort of derision. “Just because Sasuke didn’t have the good taste to like you back doesn’t mean you’re not good enough for anyone else.”

Sakura stilled, the hand brushing Bull now shaking slightly. Sasuke had done more than just not like her back, but Kurenai didn’t know that so she forced herself to keep brushing. The repetitive motion was cathartic, and she took a deep breath, finding herself calming as she inhaled the lingering scent of Kakashi that all his ninken had.

“This isn’t about Sasuke,” she said.

Kurenai sighed. “No, I suppose not.” She stood up. “Need anything, kiddo? I’m heading to the cafeteria.”

“No.”

“Mummy!”

Sakura watched as Mirai came running in and jumped at her mother. She paused in brushing Bull to smile and take in the wholesome moment of the two talking animatedly as they slowly made their way out of the room. She knew that she and Kakashi deserved their shot. She was just so used to waiting a whole year that Sakura sometimes forgot that he was waiting for her, too.

She smiled and returned to her chore. The dogs got weekly baths from Kakashi – one of the few things he wasn’t lazy about was his ninken – so they didn’t need the pinkette to fuss over them. But they seemed to enjoy it so she kept at it. It had been a whole year since she’d first walked into this place. She’d done it to have an excuse to spend more time near Kakashi. Even though the man in question wasn’t here right now, she still did it.

Avoiding this place for her own personal reasons were no longer necessary. She could move on.

“Next?” She asked, when done with Bull. He reluctantly moved away and Guruko bounded up to her, his tail wagging in anticipation.

It was over an hour before Kurenai returned, glowing with happiness while apologetic for how long she took. Sakura simply waved her concerns away. She’d finished the grooming herself and was content to sit back and watch as the kids played with Kakashi’s ninken. The dogs were so sweet to let them pull on their ears and snuggle, the way they did. The kids adored them.

Shiba started telling them a story about how he saved Kakashi from an evil ninja by biting his bum. It had the kids in giggle fits and the other ninken rolling their eyes. Sakura knew, because she’d been there, just how embellished this story was – though Shiba had indeed bitten a rogue ninja who was about to skewer Kakashi, it hadn’t been on his arse.

“Reminds me of the good old days,” Kurenai said, interrupting her thoughts and giving Sakura a cheeky smile. “Asuma and Kakashi would argue over who had the best stories and both of them always embellished.”

“I can imagine.”

“Yeah, they were such polar opposites in so many ways.” Kurenai lost her smile and stared off into one of the adjoining rooms, where Sakura assumed Mirai was playing with the art supplies (she always did that instead of joining the time with the dogs, like she was trying to hog them; it was cute).

The older woman sighed. “One related to a Hokage and rejecting that connection, the other Hokage material who’d take the role readily, even though it never appealed to him.”

Sakura fingered the hem of her skirt absentmindedly. “He’s still griping at Tsunade for being named the sixth Hokage.”

“Who was it that really put him forth for Hokage?” Kurenai asked, teasingly. Tsunade liked making fun of the now-Hokage for not liking his position but it was clear to everyone (except Kakashi, it seemed) that the blonde had had nothing to do with it.

Sakura looked away from her, her face tinging pink. It hadn’t been until his inauguration that she found out he hadn’t actually wanted the position. Why must he hide his feelings so much? “I did.”

.:.

He left her a message to meet him at his favourite drinking spot. It was a place with a similar look to it as Ichiraku, except it sold alcohol – to shinobi only. Her shishou also knew about it and Tsunade raved about the place – it was apparently a new stall set up in the last few months. It was called Shochu, or something like that. Sakura glanced up at the sign before ducking under the flap, half expecting to see Teuchi and Ayame; it was that similar to Ichiraku.

“Welcome!” The owner beamed at her; his eyes squinted closed as a genuine smile graced his battered face. “What’ll you have?”

She glanced at the menu. They also sold Onigiri sandwiches and Renkon chips which made her mouth water just looking at. Sakura decided to splurge, since she’d arrived on time and Kakashi was bound to be late, even to this.

She swallowed nervously. Whatever this was.

“A bowl of Renkon chips and Amazu sauce,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “No drinks, please.”

“Coming right up! Oh…”

Sakura frowned at him as the man’s eyes opened and widened. He grinned. “It’s on the house.”

“Uh…”

“The name’s Kohaku.” If possible, his grin only widened. “And you’re Sakura Haruno. The beautiful pink haired kunoichi with a dazzling smile.”

“Uh…” She felt her face warm.

“Lunch has been paid for,” he continued. “By a secret admirer.” He handed her a note. “He also said to open this only when you’re done eating. Oh, and I’m adding a sparkly to your order. You’ll need it.”

He winked at her and she palmed her face, embarrassed. Did Kakashi set this up? And why?

As Kohaku got started on her order, Sakura fingered the note, feeling Kakashi’s chakra embedded into it. Her heart was fluttering, and she squirmed in her seat. She hadn’t realised he had a romantic side. But why lunch here? And why alone?

“Sakura?”

Her head snapped around at the other patron, not realising until now that she wasn’t alone.

It was Yamato.

“What are you doing here?”

“Eating.”

He grinned, holding up a beer. “Drinking.”

“Damn you, Kakashi,” she whispered.

Yamato frowned. “Yes, he said he was joining me for lunch this time. Even told me to tell you it’s his treat for all those times you paid.”

He burped loudly and Sakura realised he was already drunk.

Yamato seemed kind of bummed out, too. She also just noticed he had a few glasses of sake next to him, too; the beer had run out. Downing another glass before turning back to Sakura, he side-eyed her, like she was the one responsible for all his problems. “Are you just going to sit there sulking all day or is there something you need of me, senpai?”

“Senpai?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his vision clearly becoming impaired. He thought she was Kakashi, maybe? The wood style user was beyond drunk, it seemed. And in the middle of the day! She bit her bottom lip, wondering if he’d been like this since the war and she’d just not noticed. Shame filled her and she made a mental note to get the hospital psychiatrist to track him down.

Just to talk.

Or strap him down then talk, as he’s likely to be stubborn about it.

Yamato shook his head. “Oh, it’s not him. It’s you.” He patted the stool next to him. “Sit, I don’t bite my teammates.”

Sakura wasn’t convinced.

He sighed. “Lady Tsunade told me to kep… I mean keep an eye on Kakashi. He was supposed to be here drinking but in-instead I got you.” He patted the stool again. “Sit, blossom tree. Sit.”

He had to be harmless when drunk. Sighing, Sakura got off her stool and instead sat down next to him, grudgingly. “She mentions he’s over drinking.”

“No, he hasn’t. But I have.”

She sighed again. “That’s what I meant.”

Yamato just shrugged and loudly ordered a bottle of sake and another glass.

“I’m not drinking with you.”

Yamato swayed and shook his glass in her face. “Who said it was for you?”

She didn’t need this. “I’m going.”

“No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no! I’ll behave!”

Sakura was half-way off her stool when Yamato grabbed her hands and pouted at her. She sat back down to avoid making things worse and he brightened up, humming and grinning when the sake bottle and glass arrived. He slid the glass to her and, unsurprised, she accepted as he poured her shishou’s favourite drink into it. But she didn’t drink.

They waited in silence and Sakura eagerly accepted her food when Kohaku handed it over, complete with a smile and twinkle of his very white teeth. Maybe he was related to Gai sensei?

Yamato watched her closely as she ate, then darted his eyes away when she glared at him. He kept throwing her weird looks but waited until she was done and had the bottle of bubbly in her hand before asking, “so, what’s got you looking f-for drinksies?”

“I was looking for…”

Him.

They’d been shagging on the alliance celebrations for five years now and she knew very well that he knew very well who she was the entire time. Talking with Kurenai about moving on and finally being able to put Sasuke behind her, she felt different. Like she was coming out of a black haze of morosity that had been engulfing her and Sakura was finally waking up. Giving into Kakashi every year and spending the rest of the twelve months pretending nothing happened had broken her more than she realised.

And now.

Now she wanted her life back. Kakashi was a loose end that needed to either be severed or restitched. She knew which one she would choose, so the resolution to this weird tryst would depend on what he wanted from her.

Why does my love life always have to be in the hands of others?

Yamato made a grumbling noise, breaking her thoughts and mumbled something she couldn’t quite catch.

"What?"

He slammed the drink down on the counter and eyed her suspiciously. "I s-saaaaid, he has a fuck bu-buddy."

Sakura sighed, nursing her drink and wishing she didn’t have to deal with this; she didn’t really want to hear about how Kakashi had found himself a new piece of arse and how his friends were so happy for him. She knew very well that she was the piece of arse and didn’t want to know all the lewd things her sensei had told his friends.

And then it hit her.

She was just another fuck.

She was usable.

She was recyclable and replaceable.

She was disposable.

Sakura had never pictured Kakashi having a sex life – the man was so reserved; she’d begun to think his only lover was those Icha Icha books of Jiraiya’s. It was why she’d been surprised the aloof man had instigated their trysts. How often did he sleep around? She felt her stomach twist at that thought.

Am I just another toy? Is that why he’s been so reluctant to reveal himself? Is he ashamed?

She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to stop the tears. This was ridiculous. A drunken comment from her former taichou didn’t determine her worth to Kakashi.

“Some of the guys thought he was gay or asexual for a long time,” Yamato went on, and the pinkette found herself frozen on the spot; her body rigid and the drink getting warm in her hand. “Not that there’d be anything wrong with th-that, you… you judgy… uh, thing.” He gave her the stink eye.

The wood style user balked for a moment, as though he was about to vomit in front of her, but then seemed to get a hold of himself, throwing back another shot and coughing loudly. “Uh… that smarts.” He wiped his mouth. “Where was I… oh yeah, turns out Kakashi-senpai has a fuck buddy.”

Yamato spun around on his stool and stopped after the second spin, peering closely at Sakura. “You look awfully familiar.”

“Hm.” She found her voice only to clamp her mouth shut.

“Well anyway,” Yamato went on, indicating to Kohaku.

But the older man shook his head. “You’ve tapped out.”

“Whaaa?!” Yamato grabbed his bottle and Kohaku swiped it out of his hand.

“No,” he said fiercely. “No more for you. I told you only three bottles.”

Yamato pouted but it got him nowhere. He turned on the stool, looking like he was going to stumble away, but he didn’t budge.

“Sakura?”

“Y-yes.”

“Why does Kakashi-senpai get to find someone special and I d-don’t?”

“Special?”

He nodded. “Wants to spend his life with her. ‘Fraid he won’t be able to.” He sighed and smacked his lips together. “I want that someone t-too.”

He groaned, turning back to the bar and flopping his head down on it. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

Sakura wasn’t paying attention to him now, sliding off her stool. "I have to go. Sorry!"

Yamato groaned; pushing his glass toward the bemused barkeep, he tapped it, silently demanding more even though Kohaku had just told him no. "Fine!" He yelled, waving his other hand at Sakura's retreating back. "Stick me with the bill like you always do, Kakashi-senpai!"

.:.

The note had very little to say, but it was his chakra that led her on. Sakura ran like the wind. This was a jutsu she’d never heard of and he was so teaching it to her later.

But right now, she needed answers from this adorably annoying man.

It didn’t take her long to realise it was leading her to his apartment.

“My place or yours, next?”

Her desire to get him into a bed had started so long ago. Was he finally relenting? She wanted more than the sex though, so if that was all he was really after…

Stop obsessing.

She slowed down as his apartment loomed in front of her and walked a natural pace up the stairs and to his door. She gasped as he opened the door and Sakura focused on the man in front of her; he looked tired by happy.

Did he really want this?

He smiled but said nothing, clearly waiting for her to start talking.

But Kakashi was averse to blunt confessions. And if she learnt anything from Sasuke she knew that emotionally stunted men – even if they were as emotionally needy as Kakashi – needed a lighter touch. Like a startled animal in the wild she needed to approach with caution.

Play it cool.

“So,” she drawled. “Shochu huh? Couldn’t afford a fancy restaurant?”

He huffed and stepped aside. “Would you like to come in?”

“I don’t know, I’ve already eaten.” He raised an eyebrow and she ignored it, continuing. “What other reason could I have to enter your apartment at this time of day?”

He chuckled suddenly, startling her. “You’re not subtle, Sakura.”

She groaned and stormed in. He closed the door and turned to face her, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You sent me the note, Kakashi. The ball’s in your court.”

“Is it?”

She swallowed heavily. How could he look so calm about this? Okay, no more preamble bullshit. She wasn’t going to try (and clearly fail) to be subtle about this anymore. She stepped over to him, palming his chest and smirking as she felt his heart race under her fingertips.

“Sakura?”

“Hm?”

“What are we doing?”

“I have no idea.”

He smiled under his mask and didn’t pull away when she touched it gently.

“But I’d like to see where it takes us.”

Kakashi tugged on the edge of his mask without pulling it down. “I don’t know. You might not like what you see.”

“I’ll close my eyes.”

“Then you won’t see all the good things, Sakura-chan.”

“Drop the chan.” Sakura inhaled deeply; the look on his face, from what she could see, was amusement. “And drop the mask.”

They’d danced around each other enough. She could feel the tension in his body as she pressed against him. He was as worried as she was, just hiding it better.

Indeed, Kakashi felt very little other than trepidation as Sakura demanded he let it go. For five years he’d hidden behind a masquerade to take what he wanted not knowing if it was what he needed. So, he talked a big game, but could he let go of the angst and self-loathing he was so well-known for?

He trembled as her grip became mildly painful. She was determined but scared, her eyes widening slightly as she stubbornly held his gaze. This was so much harder than whispering dirty words in her ear and fucking her warm, writhing body into a non-descript wall. This required courage.

But he needed to do this.

One step at a time.

And the first step was dropping his mask and kissing the woman he loved. Without shaking like some teenage virgin.

But once his face was bare, she took over.

Her mouth was on his and an instant later all the tension left his body. They pulled each other in, gently and lovingly caressing; there had been enough rough fucks, this wasn’t about that. This time they could take it slowly. And do more than just stand against walls. He steered her toward his bed as she started exploring his mouth and finally, he leant into the kiss with no self-pity or angst. Only with hope for the future.

…

#KakaSaku #kakasaku month 2021 #kakasaku month #my fanfiction #fanfiction

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

Note

18 19 20 27 28 from the protag questions <3

Ooooo! Lots of goodies! o3o You all spoil me~! X3

Thank you so much! Let's get into it! >:D

18. What is the biggest similarity between your protagonists?

Grey morality. PFFFFT!

I'm serious. I have a habit of creating characters that have questionable methods to situations, but yet can be empathized with or even sympathized with. Fane, Rylen, and Elise all do what they have to do, and it's up to the audience to formulate whether or not they agree or disagree with their personalities and actions.

I'll say this once because I've had people in the past kind of...bash me for it, but just because your character has a specific view does not necessarily mean you as the creator share that same view. That isn't me throwing swings out at self-inserts or characters that are reflections of their creators, this is just how I feel in response to my own characters. I try to disconnect from my characters because I want them to be their own. I build the foundation, give them a name, a history, or a family to influence them, but I don't steer their minds, their decisions. They flow the way they want to flow. Simple as that. Fane is the OC that is most reflective of me, but not with everything. He has his own methods, own reasons for thinking the way that he does and so do I.

I think it has a lot of my fixation on making characters teeter has to do with how I interact with the world in real life. I just...don't see black and white. I give everything the benefit of the doubt and I hold my ground concerning my views even if others might see them as 'wrong' or 'controversial'. I'm horribly analytical and I'm always like, 'But what if...'. That's just...me. XD

But yeah! Grey characters are my vice and I'm not sure if I'm doing it right most of the time, but I try! :3

19. What is the biggest difference between your protagonists?

Mainly how they approach situations and their feelings surrounding leadership.

Fane is rash, doesn't plan, doesn't think everything through before acting or he just outright chooses not to. He tends to make decisions on his own, but mainly only in battle. In more diplomatic settings, Fane is the master of deferral. XD He divvies out tasks that he feels aren't his area from either a lack of interest, a lack of confidence in himself, or just feeling that someone else would be the better option.

Rylen has his moments of brashness, but he's pretty subdued, go with the flow type of deal, but most who know him intimately know he's pretty high strung when it comes to matters where his voice has power. Man's a ball of stress and anxiety. PFFT!

Elise is the calmest out of the three. It was practically trained into her in the Circle. She's also just inherently docile, but after the Blight she does have moments of being feral and unhinged. That mostly happens if one of her companions are in danger or if her own life is threatened. She's not afraid to make her voice heard, either. Generally, Elise is soft spoken, but she will stand up for herself and other people, despite the grief it could cause her.

20. Who handles responsibility the best? And who handles it the worst?

If Fane puts his mind to it, he can handle responsibility pretty well. His want to involve himself deeply in matters doesn't happen until after Adamant and only gets stronger and stronger after Trespasser. Fane is a force when he wants to be and Solas tries to draw that out, to make him realize he can do whatever he puts his mind to. However, Elise would be the best in terms of responsibility. She had a lot in the Circle, even more during the Blight, and a substantial amount as Warden-Commander. Does she wish she could rest? Of course! But she doesn't complain because she knows she can make change. Rylen's okay with responsibility; he becomes Viscount after all. But, he is prone to slacking off at times, but really only after the Chantry explosion. The guy is TIRED. What can I say? XD

All in all, none of them bad at handling responsibility. They just have different ways that they go about it! :D

27. What would their fears on the graves in the fade during Here Lies The Abyss be?

Yes, yes, yes, YES! The question! The big question! The question that leads to Fane and Solas' first kiss! AHAHAHAH! >:D

Elise - Betrayal. This is more in terms of Elise towards herself and her own actions. She's afraid that everything she's ever done has been one great betrayal to everyone and everything she has ever cared about. She had no choice but to witness Jowan become Tranquil, Alistair, so hurt and angered by her decision at the Landsmeet, abandoned her to face the possibility of the death alone, her faith was sundered after the Broken Circle, making her fear her magic for the first time in her life and making her wonder when she would become the very monsters she had just finished killing. The list goes on. Elise made so many decisions in service to the world, but she silently wonders when it'll all come crashing down around her, when everyone will leave her because they'd been betrayed.

Rylen - Wasn't enough. Rylen wrestles constantly with the fact that he's never been strong enough. He wasn't strong enough for Carver; the ogre ripping him from their family and pounding into pulp. He wasn't strong enough for Bethany; unable to protect her from the templars, so he opted to take her to the Deep Roads, thinking it would be safer, but it wasn't. He wasn't strong enough for his mother; his eyes focused on the horizon rather than the ground that began it all.

And he hadn't been strong enough to end Corypheus for good. We all know what happened wasn't Hawke's fault, but Rylen the master of blaming himself for everything, so that's one event he dwells about every. day. every. night.

Last, but not least, FANE. *sounds the horns* You ready? You ready?! >:D

Fane - To be forgotten. That's right.

That's Fane's biggest, deepest fear; to be forgotten. I know there's only been a few chapters of my main fic that kind of reference this, but you know how Fane constantly says to himself, 'I wish I could be forgotten. It would be better if I would just disappear and be forgotten.'? Yeah, it's a front. He's trying to convince himself that that's what he wants, but in actuality, it's reversed. He's terrified, terrified of being forgotten by the world, by his sister, by the Inquisition...

...by Solas. That's the worst person who could forget Fane. And around the time of Adamant, Solas and Fane being the stubborn fools that they are, act as if they haven't known each other for fucking centuries even though the truth literally screamed at them after Haven. They were lost together in the mountains with that truth hanging between them, and still they ignored it because it hurt and they both felt they didn't deserve the hope that they could be together. Fane attempts to unearth some lost memories, some lingering feelings, but Solas wasn't ready and guided them away from that unopened bag, refusing to let Fane in on his agenda or allowing him to help in any way. It gets to a point where Fane starts to believe Solas doesn't actually recall their relationship, who he is and he spirals pretty bad in the Raw Fade when that tombstone is glaring at him.

When Solas sees it...he cracks. Quietly, in his mind, but he realizes how stupid he'd been, how stupid they had been. The truth was looking at him in two tones and he ignored it out of fear. It's what spurs Solas to take Fane into the Fade and show his dragon the place where he had endeavored to make sure the other would never be forgotten. Solas also makes it clear that he had never forgot Fane, ever.

"I could never forget you, my dragon. Your memory lingered within the halls of my mind even as I slumbered. I am but a fool, a fearful fool. I thought it kinder to let you live a new life, unburdened by my burdens. I do not wish for the past to repeat itself, to see two tones ebb away and breath leave your lungs once more.", Solas said, eyes downcast, pained grimace housing sorrow, grief, and despair in its curves. "...But, it is not kinder. It is more agonizing to try and forget than it is to remember. Though, I have never tried to erase you from my memory nor have I tried to abandon what I felt for you--what I feel for you.'

Fane frowned, tugging on the mage's forearms to bring him closer, urgently, but timidly; Solas didn't even protest, but his eyes remained downcast. "What do you feel, Solas?", he asked and received no answer. "What do you feel, Solas?! What can't you forget?!", he repeated, voice echoing off the halls of death and remembrance. He needed these words, he needed to know!

What did the sky feel?! What did it remember?! He just wanted one damned answer in this upside down world!

Solas' eyes shut slowly, chest rising with a deep inhale. "I..", he started, but paused again, face twitching with hesitance and reservation. "No, it's not--!"

Fane growled low. "Enough! If you won't tell me,", he barked, yanking Solas forward by his arms, barely registering the grunt of surprise that left his lips, and shot his hands up to hold a bewildered face. "...then show me!"

I tease~ >:3

-----

28. What is their favourite location within their own game and what would be their favourite in each others?

I answered this ooooonnnneee HERE! >:D (I would just copy and paste, but it LONG. ADHDKS)

And there we have it! Beautiful! Perfect! And FUN! X3

#asks #ask #dragon age #oc: fane lavellan #oc: elise amell #oc: rylen hawke #woo! all asks answered! :3 #these were a lot of fun! the questions were different and interesting too! X3 #thank you so much again! <3 #guys i drabbled again #this is how i get my inspiration surprisingly enough #i just have a lot of solavellan feels and it's only doubly with fane and solas ;3;#solavellan

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secondhand-trash · 4 years

Text

Light As A Feather

A/N: right, so this is not planned at all but I just have to because soft morning sex with birb is all that I can think of now.

Pairing: Takami Keigo x f!reader

Description: You had always loved his wings. But it was this one particular morning when he realised just how much you loved his feathers.

Warning: nsfw below cut(feather fucking which I’m pretty sure isn’t the most hygienic unless those feathers are meant for this specifically purpose so please don’t put random objects up your coochie thanks? I guess?)

Word count: 2479

Taglist (aka thank you for supporting my weird fixation): @redbeanteax @monst

The morning sun spilled from the blowing curtains into the room, the best type of morning call was the warmth that slowly crept onto your face. Blinking to accustom to the light, it took a while for you to even get past that slight weight on your lids that was luring you to just let them fall and drift back to sleep again.

You always woke up on your side, with your left arm tugged under the pillow and the other gripping at the corner of the blanket. It was a bad habit formed early on in your childhood, you could not fall asleep in any other position. You felt the most safe that way.

Feeling a slight stiffness along your shoulders, you tried to stretch your limbs only to find your movements being heavily restricted by the arm draping over your waist and the wing that was covering you like your own personal down blanket.

You took back what you just said, you felt the most safe when you fell asleep in Keigo’s arms and with his wings casually slung over your frame.

The same wings that were now gently rubbing against your skin as their owner let out soft snores in his sleep had been quite the struggle at the start of your relationship. It took a very long while for him to figure out just how the two of you could both lay down on the same mattress without him hitting you in the face with feathers with an unconscious turn during his sleep or how those two long flaps could possibly be accommodated without the risk of you rolling onto it and crush the bones of their unalarmed owner at any given moment. The process was one of trial and error to say the least, and Keigo was still somewhat petty about the fact that spooning was out of consideration given that he could not just sacrifice one side of his trusty wings and let it go numb from being laid onto.

Many nights of cramps from weird postures later, you two had settled with the only one that could fit all of your needs. You on the side as you preferred and him sleeping on his chest with his face arched to the side, allowing those glorious wings to sprawl out however they desired too.

They were a trouble to work with, and you still woke up to find small feathers in your mouth occasionally, but you did love his wings. They just gave him such a unique flare, which you refused to tell him upfront after that one time you complimented him on their shade and he refused to fold them up for a week because his ego was way too well boosted.

But all in all, you did love his wings, almost as much as you loved the owner of those wings, who was still in his own sweet slumber, completely unaware of how his lover was dazed out as they studied him in his sleep.

He looked like a child in his sleep, with his golden locks messily all tangled up and his lips slightly parted, a trail of drool at the corner of his mouth. It was rare to see him with his guard down like this, a bliss that only you were allowed to witness. The early sunlight was doing wonders on him, the mellow shine made him look like some finely crafted statue carved out of marble and adorned with gold accents.

You smiled to yourself as you reached out to move the strand of hair that fell onto his face, unable to resist the temptation to disturb the sleeping angel. You never took yourself as the sappy type, but you guessed that love could make a poet out of anyone.

The velvet soft feathers brushed against your arms, ruffling a bit as Keigo stirred awake. You watched as he slowly fluttered his eyes open, yawning before a lazy grin found their way to his face when he woke up to see you not even bothering to hide your stare at him. “Were you watching me sleep?”

You laughed as he rolled onto his side to look at you. “Maybe.”

The shift of his body made the blanket slid down, stopping at his waist and putting his naked chest on full display. It was then that you remembered just how naked you were and pulled the blankets a bit higher to your collar bone.

He definitely noticed your movement. The narrowing of his eyebrows and the growing smirk on his face was nothing less than suggestive, a naked reminder of the sweet loving he drowned you in last night.

“Why the shyness all of a sudden?” He asked, his voice still hoarse from the sleep, “You weren’t shy when you were scratching at my back last night.”

The bold reminder only made what the many erotic scenes flashed before your eyes. The way his brows knitted together as he plowed into you, the feeling of his lips on your neck, the red that took over your vision as you cling onto him, his wings still spread out proudly even at times of intimacy as if he wanted to have them carved into your memory forever. Although it was far from the first time and even further away from being the last time you slept with the man, there was still something about being with him that made your entire body heated up.

“A bit embarrassed because you caught me staring, that’s all.” You mumbled, slowly caressing the tip of his wings in an sudden overwhelmed rush of affection. You wished you could wake up to him every morning, you really could never get enough of him.

A sudden pull at your arm made you yelp and you found yourself under the body of your lover, the blanket that covered your abdomen discarded to the floor. Keigo was grinned at you, his wings at either side of you and acted as the only cover the two of you had gotten.

“I do quite like the way you stare at me,” he said as he leaned down to place wet kisses along your jaw all the way to your neck, “and how you touched my wings earlier, always get me going.”

You laughed, and boy did it make his heart flutter. There were often times when he found himself absolutely dumbfounded by how breathtaking you looked, laying underneath him with a smile on your face, like you knew exactly what effect you have on him and it drove him wild. You said, rather unaware of how your mindless words came out as nothing but sultry to him, “I do quite like the way you touch me as well.”

In an attempt to push himself off of the mattress and moved himself lower against you, the tips of his wings brushed across the side of your stomach and you back arched, goose bumps immediately forming with the ticklish sensation. Your reaction to such an innocent gesture on his part was unexpected, and it amused him so much that another idea started forming in his head.

A whine escaped your lips when you felt the same feeling but this time circling your nipple. Forcing your eyes open against the overwhelming feeling that was fogging over your head, your boyfriend’s lazy smirk only fueled the wetness that was starting to pool up at your core.

He had carefully plucked one of the longer feathers on his back and traced the soft tip along where he knew that you were the most sensitive, testing his own theory a bit and utterly astonished to find that he was right. “You do like being touched,” he whispered, drawing out another mewl from you when he flicked the feather onto the peak that was hard and begging for attention, “so much that you would take even a feather.”

Your breath hitched when the tickling lifted only to go on to tease you on the other side. Your toes curled at how the tingles on your skin remained even when the feather was gone. The feather light teases he was giving you left you unsatisfied, and what lingered on you only made you crave more.

“Keigo, please...” your own voice sounded weak with the shivers that went down your back, each word that came out of your mouth sounded more like a whine than it did actual phrases and it sent a throb of excitement down him. “don’t tease.”

The cry that left your mouth when you felt the finger tracing your sopping folds was purely indecent. As he collected your essence on his digits, he groaned at how wet you were. “You’re practically dripping and I haven’t even touched you for real yet.”

Biting your lips no longer work in keeping all the noises in when you felt his fingers spreading your pussy apart and a familiar flicker against your clit. You hissed at the feeling. The fact that such a small movement could sent your entire body to heat up and even more of your arousal leaking onto his fingers was unbelievable. “Please, I need you so badly...”

“What do you need?” He said, tilting his head and pretending that he was confused as he let the feather drawn on the side of your labia, “You need me to touch you?”

Your hands gripped onto the sheets beneath you when his knuckle brushed past your slit. “Yes.”

“You need me to stuff your greedy hole with my cock?”

Your walls clenched at his filthy words. “Yes-”

He clicked his tongue, and it was shameful how his mocking of your desperation only fueled you further. “How about no?”

Without a warning, he slid the long feather into your opening. You cried out, no, you screeched when the thin vanes rubbed against your walls. It was like there was nothing inside of you with how little girth it provided but the tip of the shaft and each section of the feather barely scratching past you put you in your place right where Keigo wanted you to be.

As he continued his ruthless teasing, you felt like you didn’t have control over yourself. Your slick made each section of the feather stuck together, the spikiness that it provided made its presence even more prominent. You writhed beneath him and your breaths became rigid, your face burnt at how turned on you were by being fucked by your own boyfriend’s feathers, the ones that you were staring into as his frame remained on top of yours.

He wasn’t sure if he was being too mean on you, but he loved the way you were slowly losing your mind underneath him. Your eyes staring up at him even though they were barely focused with the hazy pleasure he was providing, the way they were clouded over with wanton lust pulling at his self-restraint that was preventing him to just scratch all this and plunge into you. He could imagine how blissful it would be to have you wrapped up around his erection, he would not have any trouble sliding it right in with the way you grew wetter and wetter by seconds as his feather trickled your senses.

You could feel the knot twisting in your stomach and you wanted nothing more than for him to just give it to you. “Keigo!"

The way his name spilled out of your lips like some sort of mantra had him weak, he could not keep up with his own game with the dull ache that was growing in between his legs. “What do you want?” he said and you whined when he suddenly stopped the movement of his hand all together. The loss of friction made you want to scream.

“I want you to fuck me-” It did not take another word from you as he pulled the feather out of your cunt, the drag of the spiky vanes along your walls made you moan which turned into a sharp mewl when he shoved his entire length in you with one swift movement.

All that teasing earlier made you extra sensitive, and you clenched around him the moment there was finally something that could provide the stretch you were craving. He groaned at the contraction, you were so warm and so wet and so ready for him. He did not waste another breath before he started thrusting up vigorously. The feeling of the head of his cock rubbing past your walls made your roll your eyes back to the back of your head and your hands went to his back, gripping onto the source of your stimulation just then.

Your hands at his wings sent a pleasurable pain down his back, and the chills that went up his spine only made him drill into you even harder with more force than before. Already worn out from earlier, you knew that you could not last much longer as the coil inside of you only tightened, and tightened, until it snapped and tears prickled at the corner of your eyes.

Your head threw back at the pleasure but he immediately gripped onto your jaw and angled your face so that you were looking directly into his eyes.

“I want to see your face as you cum on my cock,” he gritted in between his teeth, a bead of sweat rolled down from his forehead while the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls never once eased, “I want to watch you fall apart.”

With one final push, you came crashing down. It did not take long for his high to approach with the way your pussy clenched around him, his brows knitted together and his wings shaking as he filled your insides with his warm seed. Your mind was hazy from the pleasure, but somehow the corner of your lips tugged up at how you could see this sight and had this feeling just merely the night before and still felt the impact just as much.

Pulling you close to him as he collapsed on the mattress next to you, you snuggled up to his side with a grin. Retreating your hands that were still hanging off his back, you nearly screamed when you saw the tiny pieces of feather that was in between your fingers.

“Oh god, I am so sorry.” You said in horror at how you had unintentionally plucked out his most precious feathers in the heat of the moment.

He chuckled and kissed you to hush you up. “It’s alright, it’ll grow back out in no time.” A mischievous glimmer sparked through his eyes as he continued, “You know, since you already plucked them out, it would be a waste if we don’t use it to its maximum potential- ouch, ouch! I’m sorry! Stop plucking, they’ll go bold-”

#hawks x reader #hawks imagine #hawks smut #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #takami keigo imagine #takami keigo smut #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha smut

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livinghostly · 4 years

Text

one missing firefly

theo raeken x reader

not my gif!

words: 2900

request/summary: even with the newest threat to beacon hills, the reader is hesitant to accept theo's help. to her misfortune, scott sends them out together to take back something stolen. as usual, the plan falls through.

warning: fighting, blood

a/n: i still write for my favorite apathetic bastard <3 i'm not sure how many parts this'll have

[...]

"are you sure they have it?" stiles probed, one arm crossed over his chest and the other picking at his lips. "like, 100%? you didn't just lose it in one of your many, many cross country trips fleeing from law enforcement?"

exasperated sighs echoed from around the room, drawing an offended expression on to his face. it was dark outside and the pack's tiredness had escalated to shared frustration, being woken up or pulled out of their plans at 12 a.m. with a sudden house call from scott.

you stood over the kitchen table with both hands on the wood, pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. you rocked on your heels, looking up at the rest of the pack, and other additions.

scott was standing on the other side of the table, listening intently to the conversation. he met your gaze and shrugged, as if asking you to stay and listen a little longer.

derek closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in annoyance. "yes, i'm sure. before they broke in, it was there. now, it's not."

a new round of hunters had infiltrated beacon hills after more mysterious news coverage had spread outside of the town's close quarters. they were more of exterminators, they had no code, no ethics. they wanted to eradicate every last living supernatural creature, despite the clean history they may have.

hours ago they had broken into derek's loft, and if he'd chosen to fight instead of run he wouldn't have made it out. when he returned, it was ransacked. they were looking for something, and they found it.

the container of nemeton wood, which held the nogitsune.

"why would– why would they take it?" liam asked, he was standing in the doorway next to stiles, who nodded along. "if it's supernatural and they have it, isn't that good? they'll keep it contained."

you licked your lips, "it's leverage. and if they're desperate they could set it free, into a new host.

"i don't doubt that void will have a vendetta for us," lydia spoke up. "we put that thing in a box for over two years to rot after ruining his game. if they let him go, he'll come back. and he'll tear us apart."

silence settled over the room, your pack members shifted their gazes fo the floor to cope with the tension that filled the space. stiles looked the most ruffled, messing with his fingers whilst deep in thought.

"you okay?" your voice broke through the air, barely above a whisper but it caught everyone's attention. their heads snapped up to you, and then followed to stiles.

he sighed. "i'm not all that enthusiastic of the spirit that once possessed me coming back with a vengeance."

malia nodded, crossing her arms. "then, we stop them. we know where they're staying, we go in, and we get it."

"yeah," scott said in confidence, but the expression on his face was uncertain. too long of silence passed until he continued. "we'll figure out a way. me, and derek."

they were the strongest, you knew it was what he was getting at. and he was right, out of all of you, a true alpha and an evolved werewolf were the ones who would have the best chance at bringing down a pack of hunters– maybe liam, too.

but this wasn't a fight on neutral ground, it would be on their turf.

"not to step on your toes, scott, but that's a terrible idea," you said, straightening your posture. he raised his eyebrows, surprised, and multiple heads turned to you in question. "it's a hunter's den. it'll be lined with mountain ash, you won't get past the welcome mat and you'll kill yourself trying."

"so, what are you saying?" he shrugged.

you swallowed, but stated strongly, "i'm saying i'll go."

you didn't have claws or amplified abilities, and you didn't need them. you had enough experience with weaponry and hand-to-hand to defend yourself, he knew that. you knew the thought process of a hunter, what to look for and how to look over your shoulder as second nature. derek helped you fight like a werewolf– in addition to the years of supernatural encounters riding on your back, you were enough.

but scott seemed to have his own internal conflict. he looked past you, his eyes fixated on something. silently begging, you could tell, as he drew his eyebrows together and tilted his head to the side.

you looked over your shoulder and spotted theo, strewn over the couch with apathy. he was so quiet you'd almost forgotten he was there, mostly observing the pack meeting. he rarely said anything unless he was directly involved in the discussion or there was a sly remark aimed at him. and when he did open his mouth, he was shut down by malia or stiles.

he raised his eyebrows, seemingly bored. he met your gaze.

widening your eyes, you turned to scott. "no."

"y/n, you can't go alone. you need someone that can fight and go through mountain ash."

"then, i'll go with–" you searched around the room, and gestured to the boy in the doorway. "stiles. he has a bat."

"that's not exactly inconspicuous," scott chuckled weakly.

"i don't need inconspicuous, i'm not ringing the doorbell!"

"i'll go," theo spoke up, breaking the staring contest you held with scott. his voice drew the room to a silence, and the pack point their eyes to him, but you refused to turn around and look at him again.

you heard the couch shift beneath his weight, and then he brought himself to his feet. your gaze flickered to malia, who's nostrils flared in silent defiance as he stepped closer to you.

"i don't need you to go," you growled.

"i don't see any other volunteers." he glanced around the room, your pack members averted their eyes shamefully. but no one spoke up.

you couldn't blame them, the hunters were terrifying and all of you– even stiles –had been at the barrel of their guns at least once. they were worse than the argents are the calaveras ever were.

but you were unmoved by his words, and turned around to face him with a cold expression.

scott sighed. "he's right. and we can trust him."

"until he stabs us in the back, again," stiles spoke up. "or sticks his claws into someone's chest, again. probably yours, scott. again."

"i've done a lot for this pack," theo said, raising his eyebrows as he looked around the room. "and i'm not even in it. i'm here to help you guys."

"you're here because you don't want to be put back into the ground," you shot back, narrowing your gaze. he looked to you, annoyed with your disapproval.

the pack began to bicker back and forth, forming sides. aggression began to seep out of everyone, it was written on their faces. the majority of the pack trusted theo, whilst you, malia and stiles didn't even want him in the room.

as argumentative as theo was, he wasn't saying anything. he kept his arms crossed, listening to the chaos unfold as everyone vouched for their own solution.

there was only one person who could make the final vote.

"enough!" scott demanded in a shout, his voice becoming distorted with a low growl slipping through. all eyes turned to him as he heaved, and after a few seconds passed, his voice became soft again. "theo is going with you. both of you are safer that way."

you adjusted your jaw, resisting the urge to argue further. a sigh passed through your lips. "fine."

two p.m. is when you decided that it would be the path of least resistance to get in and out. they spent most of the days away from home, slithering through the town, watching and waiting for someone to slip up and reveal their true colors.

they'd been asking around, feigning as journalists or investigators to the townspeople to get leads on some of the creatures. at night, they would hunt or go back home to sleep, depending on the progress they made that day.

you stepped carefully through the woods, keeping on the trails and avoiding any sticks or leaves that could break under your feet. theo, a few feet behind you, wasn't so careful. his footsteps were heavy and racked up the dirt beneath them.

"you've never dealt with real hunters, have you?" you asked aloud. when the anuk-ite had infested beacon hills it turned everyone into killers, not hunters. they were inexperienced and trigger happy, but that wasn't the case now.

he stiffened, the weight of his heels digging into the leaves and drawing a crunch. he continued walking, keeping his head to the ground as he stepped around the loud obstacles. you smirked to yourself.

"not exactly," he responded.

an awkward silence filled the air, flowing between you constantly. you tried to shove off that feeling, as well as the hyperawareness you had to his presence, and kept your eyes peeled for any sudden movements or traps as you approached the property.

suddenly, you stopped in your tracks. theo kept walking until he was nearly against your back, following your gaze steadily. over the hill was the house, seemingly abandoned, it looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

licking your lips, you turned to him. "can you hear anything? a heartbeat?"

theo swallowed, and looked to the side as he focused. his jaw clenched as he strained to hear. "no, nobody's home."

"this is a good start," you breathed, continuing your trek up to the property. you circled around to the back of the house, theo following your every step.

suddenly, he spoke up. "i don't know much about this plan."

"get in, get the triskele box, and get out."

"it can't be that simple, it never is."

you rolled your lips back into your mouth, walking up to the back patio. it was covered in dust and the boards of wood looked as if they were ready to snap in half at too sudden of weight.

he huffed at your silence and continued, "what if something goes wrong?"

"what if you just trust me?" you countered, stopping at the door. you cast a glance over your shoulder and placed a hand on the doorknob.

"you would have to trust me first."

you frowned, and pushed open the door carefully. it lead into a kitchen, where the majority of the space on the countertops were coated with dust and cobwebs. there was a leather holster laid out, numerous knives missing, and the others that were left had been wiped clean of blood with a red-stained rag thrown to the side.

the windows were boarded up on the outside, creating a darkness over the room. you could still see, but it was difficult.

there was ruined furniture around covered in plastic wrap and shards of glass on the floor swept to the wall out of the walkway.

"this place doesn't feel too welcoming," theo whispered, his voice alerting you how close he was, practically stepping on your heels.

you opened one of the cabinets, searching for it, but there were only broken or stained plates left. "go upstairs. i'll check down here." you turned and met his eyes, he was reluctant to leave. "and if you find it, don't open it."

he raised his eyebrows. "i'd appreciate it if you had a little more faith in me."

before the conversation could continue, he followed your orders and turned around towards the living room. when he walked, he nearly dragged his feet across the ground and let his weight sink into the floorboards. painstakingly loud, without the belief that there was a reason to be quiet.

each cabinet you opened only left you more frustrated, finding nothing more than bugs and abandoned silverware. after you deserted that idea, you turned to the living room.

you peaked into the fire place first, finding a collection of guns hidden away inconspicuously. but no box. you rolled your eyes at the armory and turned towards the other side of the room, your gaze falling to the couches. they looked scratchy and the cushions sank after being sat in too many times. there was something about it.

tilting your head, you walked behind it, and then bent down to the floor. you curled your hands underneath the bottom of the couch and lifted with a strained groan. not wanting to be loud, you gently set it down, now on it's flipped side.

"i don’t see anything up here!" theo called down, you could hear his footsteps coming towards the stairwell.

you knelt down, your eyes falling to a poorly reattached seem. it was holding something inside, heavy enough to create a dip. "it's okay, i think i found something."

he waltzed down the stairs, raising his eyebrows with surprise upon spotting you. he came closer, pausing in his tracks for a moment as you unsheathed a pocket knife, and then tiptoed for your side.

theo bent down as you were, his eyes on focused on you as you dragged the knife down the material of the couch. you were curious, your features contorting with concentration as the fluff began to sprout from the couch.

you dropped the knife to the floor and dug your hand in, searching blindly. you tried to hold back your wince as something sharp dragged along your skin, but he caught the expression.

"what? you okay?" he leaned forward, one hand on the ground to steady himself.

you nodded, "yeah, i just–" you stopped yourself as your fingers wrapped around the edge of a cylinder. it was rough against your flesh, and heavy as you began to pull it out.

you set it in your lap with narrowed eyebrows, you hadn't seen it in a long time. the wooden container decorated with a symbol– the triskele. you ran your thumb gently over it.

"that's it, right?"

"yeah," you met his gaze. he was ready to stand up and leave just the way you came, his eyes flickering from the box to your face.

"okay, then let's go."

you nodded, pulling your wounded hand into a fist.

he gently placed his hand on your wrist, turning it over and pulling at your fingers to expose the palm of your hand. fresh blood was slowly pooling, it had dripped on to the floor and stained the couch fluff. "you're bleeding."

sighing, you pulled it from his grasp. "it's not that bad." you brought yourself to your feet again and he mimicked your actions. "i'll fix it when we get back to scott's."

a new voice broke through the air. "i- i don't think i can let you do that."

you nearly jumped and looked past theo to the archway of the kitchen. he turned as well, spotting a boy only a few years younger than you holding a shotgun in his hands.

theo reacted before you had time to. he jumped towards the kid and grabbed the barrel of the gun and lifting it into the air as a shot rang out. he snarled, shining his yellow eyes and he pushed the boy further into the kitchen.

loosening your grip on the container, you leaned down and swiped your pocket knife on the ground. you set the box on one of the tables and pursued the boys in the kitchen, walking in on theo being thrown to the fridge, creating a large dent.

the unnamed boy turned to face you, raising his weapon into the air, and you ducked. he shot at nothing and you charged at his torso, pushing him to the ground. the shotgun clattered next to you, and you held your knife to his throat.

as you looked at him, your stance faltered. he couldn't be any older than fourteen, but he was strong. he had fear in his eyes, panic piercing into yours.

in your moment of weakness, he took his chance and punched you in the jaw. you leaned back and held the point of impact, allowing him to shove you off and to the floor. he picked up his shotgun again, and aimed it at you.

"okay, wait! wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" theo shouted, one hand on the counter to steady himself as he nearly stood over you. there was blood seeping from her corner of his mouth, as well as his stomach. "she's not like me, okay? she's human."

the boy was unmoved, keeping his stance and watching you prop yourself up on your forearms.

theo continued, "we'll leave the container, and we can go. but if you shoot her, i'll rip your throat out."

"no," the hunter said, his lip twitched. "they wouldn't like it if i let you go."

he turned the shotgun around, facing the butt of it towards you. for a moment, you found yourself confused thinking his actions betrayed his words. but then, he raised it further up before bringing it back down against your forehead.

#theo raeken #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken fic #reader x theo raeken #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic #spleen writes

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