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adoremexxs · 8 months

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Stalker!Sekido x gn! reader

i should be writing requests but i don’t have the energy to do all of them right now so you guys get this

warnings: you guys know the drill by now ☠️, crazy bs, stalking, self harm, manipulation

Sekido had first saw you in his class. He was intstantly memorized by your obvious beauty.

Other people noticed it too.

It infuriated him. You were his and his only. You just didn’t know it.

He was so obsessed with you, going home at night and mewling out your name as his body shook violently.

The second that Karaku even talked to you, he snapped. Sekido never thought he would lose it so badly that night. He never realized how obsessed he was with you.

That night, Karaku never talked to you again and it completely scared Urogi and Aizetsu away from you.

But you went up to Karaku and them anyways, not talking to Sekido. The anger fueled in his stomach. Why wouldn’t you talk to him?!

You never talked to Sekido because you didn’t know him. Aizetsu, Urogi and Karaku had talked you before. You didn’t know his obsession with you.

Whenever you had went up to the brothers, the looked terrifed of you. You were confused.

“Did I do something, guys?” You had a smile on your face. Karaku was all beaten up, a black eyes forming on his face. You assumed that him and Sekido had gotten into another fight. You knew a good gist of their home life.

“Oh! Karaku! Come here, you poor thing.” You frown, looking at that cuts and bruises all over his body and he immediately backed away from you.

“Sorry, (Y/N)…It’s, uh, nothing. Don’t stress.” He tried to reassure you but your attention was focused on something else. A very angry gaze behind Karaku. Those red eyes boring into the back of Karaku’s head. Those gorgeous, red eyes.

You never realized how beautiful Sekido really was, even if he had a bit of a temper.

You remember watching him at the archery tournament, the way his hair was in a messy bun, baby hairs and bangs framing that gorgeous, tanned face, the way his veins bulged out of his arms, the concentration on his face.

Or the way he got heated during the debate team. God, it was hot to watch him lose it. But he also was physically hurting his brothers. So you glared at him while you cleaned up Karaku’s cuts and scrapes.

Sekido’s heart was crushed and shattered into two whenever you glared at him. Sekido didn’t understand what he did wrong. To make you baby his idiotic brother. It’s Karaku’s fault for approaching you.

Sekido finally had enough.

You were so focused on Karaku that you didn’t realize that Sekido had walked over and ripped you away from Karaku. Pure fear was engraved on your face as you stared up at those red eyes. An immense amount of anger in them as his hand tightened around your wrist.

You were frozen in fear for a few seconds because you slapped him harshly across the face, watching shock flash onto his face.

“Let go of me! Are you in your right mind?!”

Those words stabbed Sekido in the stomach and twisted around in his gut. He bit his bottom lip harshly. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Yeah! You sure didn’t! You could’ve hurt me!”

God, the thought of hurting his precious (Y/N) really turned him on. It had his pants bulging and begging for air. You looked up at him so angrily, it made him grow even more possessive over you.

“How can I ever make it up to you? Can I take you out for coffee?” This was his chance. His pants just kept growing tighter and tighter and his heart kept racing. The tips of his ears turning red. He could feel Karaku and them staring at him. He didn’t care if it was in fear or not. He was too focused on his precious (Y/N) considering his offer.

“…Fine. Tomorrow, before school.” You exchanged numbers with him. You didn’t think of the consequences this could have.

The coffee date went fairly well. Sekido was smooth with conversation and compliments. He had done his hair up all pretty for you. It was in an half up, half down. His bangs framed his chiseled face.

He was able to keep you on your toes, leaning forward for more of his talking. Sekido knew exactly how to reel you in towards him. His foot rubbed up against your leg several times which made you squeeze your thighs together.

Sekido’s eyes bored into yours, you were so infatuated with his beautiful eyes. They were narrow, deep, the color was irresistible. The way he looked at you had you squirming in your chair alone.

You didn’t know why this man, who you barely knew, had you already wrapped around his finger. You bit your lip as he talked about debate team. You decided to be bold, returning the bold movement he decided to do. You rubbed your foot up against his leg slowly and you watched his breath hitch. Maybe you liked being in control of such a strong, irresistible man.

He paused in stirring his tea to look at you, his expression had you weak. How could he do this you? Did he cast some kind of spell on you?

“(Y/N)…”

“Sekido.” The way you said his name was so quick and breathless. You wanted him. No, needed him. What the hell did he do to you?

He smirked, revealing those beautiful white fangs. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Am I?”

Sekido wanted to take you right then and there but he had to wait for his plan to work out. He already managed to win you over with his sweet words.

The way your breath hitched whenever he looked at you made him feel extremely powerful. Sekido could only smile as he called the waiter over to pay for the bill.

“Let’s get going, yeah?”

It had been a few months since that incident. You and Sekido weren’t offically together yet but you have been hanging out everyday and getting to know each other.

It didn’t stop from his hands and yours from wandering, exploring each other’s bodies and sharing hot, sloppy kisses. Sekido was happy to have you to himself. Your body fit perfectly with his. The way you moaned out his name stirred something inside him that he never thought he would enjoy.

But somehow, you weren’t completely obsessed with him. You still talked to his brothers.

Maybe because they look like each other but you felt an attraction to his brothers as well. You and Sekido weren’t exactly together so you also took the time to get to know his brothers more. Urogi caught your interest.

Unknowingly to Sekido, you and Urogi were hooking up behind his back.

You couldn’t help it but Urogi’s sweet and loving personality had you wanting more. You wanted to see if he was as sweet and loving in bed. He was not. The amount of hickeys that you had to cover was insane.

Sekido found out. He will always find out.

He found out by going to your own home. He had this habit of going to your house while you were asleep and watching you. Just. Watching you.

Sekido would also steal your underwear from time to time to inhale your remaining scent. Nothing turned him on more than that.

Anyways, he saw you through the crack of your door. Urogi was there. Urogi had lied to him and said that he was at a friend’s house. Maybe he didn’t necessarily lie but still. You were moaning out Urogi’s name and it pissed him off. He almost couldn’t handle it. He had to leave before he killed the both of you.

He instead went to his room, looking at the little shoe box he had sat on his bed.

It contained photos of you, your underwear, used bandaids, used tissues, an old toothbrush and much more. Sekido’s breath was shaky as he felt his skin rip open and blood seep out of his fresh wounds.

Sekido felt the skin on his lip open up. He had busted his lip. How could his (Y/N) do this to him? Surely they will pay for this punishment. They have too. They couldn’t do this to him. He loved them.

The next time you went over to Sekido’s, you were excited. You had missed him and his sweet gentle kisses. No one was over, so you expected your relationship to move forever.

What you didn’t expect was to find him on his bedroom floor with his sleeves rolled to to expose the fresh, bleeding slits on his wrist. His eyes droopy and filled with lust but also anger. It terrifed you to watch the blood leave his wrists and drop onto the ground.

“Look what you did to me, (Y/N).” Those soft words left his lips. “Look what you did…You slept with my brother and now look at what happened. You did this…how could you?” Sekido’s words quickly twisted from soft and sweet to angry and mean. He stood up, you were frozen in fear.

This was not the Sekido you knew. Or did you even know him?

He walked towards you, his words remaining harsh and rude, “You slept with a lowlife like him? He’s using you. He doesn’t like you, (Y/N). I LIKE YOU. Not him! Why him? Why not me? I’m the one who is fucking good for you, you pathetic bitch.” You cry out as he harshly grabbed your chin, making you look at him.

You were panicking but you couldn’t move. You hated to admit that you somehow enjoyed the treatment.

“You are nothing without me. You’re a pathetic slut, waiting around for men like Urogi and Karaku to use you,” He uses his other free hand to stroke your cheek, blood dripping onto your paled face. “I wouldn’t do that to you, (Y/N). You’re mine. You’re fucking mine.” You could have sworn that your chin was bruised. You winced as tears gathered in your eyes.

You felt his hands move from your face to your throat, clenching tightly around your neck. You were losing consciousness as you tried to fight it off. Your hands scrambling to your throat while trying to escape his grasp. You heard him say one final thing.

“And I’ll make sure you don’t ever leave me.”

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nkogneatho · 5 months

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𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

ೀ kuroo x fem!reader ft. iwaizumi

—cw: exhibitionism, blowjob, webcam sex, male masturbating, pet names (kitten), cum swallowing, deepthroat.

—a/n: this was supposed to be a small blurb but oh well. Also this was supposed to be just kuroo but being the hajime whore i am i had to include him.

Tetsu made sure to give you all his time and attention. He was there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, arms to hold you into and of course a dick to fuck you stupid when you were horny.

But today he had a meeting with Iwaizumi to discuss the financial aspects while funding and sponsoring the volleyball tournament the recently partner for. He wasn't close to Iwaizumi, more to the former captain of Seijoh, but Hajime and Tetsuro clicked during their first proper meeting. They even went out for a few beers and shared laughs. He told him about you so since then Iwaizumi would always ask how you are. You met him once during a party Kuroo organized and the man looked big. Bigger than Kuroo but you love your rooster head too much so you don't care about any other man.

You walked into the bedroom to find kuroo in his sweats. He had tight wine red tshirt on with black sweats and you peeked to find iwaizumi wearing a black compression shirt. It was obvious he was an athletic trainer the way his body flexes at ecah move. But your eyes were fixated on your man. Or rather his grey sweats. Shit. The fabric was loose but the way he sat, you could see his dickprint. Shit. shit. shit. You didn't know what plagued over you—maybe lust, maybe desperation, but you carefully drop to your knees and crawl to him. He doesn't notice you, his eyes fixated on the calculations he was writing on the desk, that until your freshly manicured nails trace his dickprint and his eyes shoot to you.

"wh—"

"Shhh." you gesture putting your pointer on your lips. "don't want him to find out baby," you grinned. Kuroo pushed his chair a little forward dragging the wheels from his weight. If he wanted to, he would've excused himself, turning off the camera and tell you that he'll let you do whatever you want later. But the man has always fancied adventures.

When you start stroking his boner, he lets out a heavy sigh, audible enough to catch the attention of the man on the other side of the screen.

"Is everything alright?" Hajime's processed computer voice pulls Kuroo's attention back to the meeting.

"Y-yeah yeah. Dude, I just had a pretty tiring day," he replies.

"It's 12 pm, man."

"Ah, right. I meant morning—fuck." He wasn't someone to lose his composure so easily but the last fuck was something he needed to moan because now your mouth was wetting his dick, taking him inside.

"We could've just resched—uhm...Kuroo," Hajime's tone shifted. Drenched in curiosity, drenched in something dark. "I can see her head."

You stopped. You literally stopped while he was still inside your mouth. You expected Kuroo to make up an excuse. He always handles these thing easily, right? Only now this man decided to drag the chair a little backwards so the man on this laptop screen had a clear view, a clearer angle to see what was happening. You peer up at him with a dumbfound expression.

"Don't look at me like that, kitten. You're the one who wanted to play games while I am working." His fingers wallowed in your hair, pulling you further close to his inner thighs. "Don't you dare run now." And you didn't. You obeyed him like a pet wanting to impress his master.

"Aw shucks. Would you mind turning sideways, Kuroo? So I can see her take that dick in clearly."

"I wouldn't mind," he shifted you to the side, turning his chair. "Enjoy the Show."

You started bobbing your head up and down. Even though his hands were in your hair, he didn't force you down his cock. Atleast, not yet. Your tongue tasted a hint of sourness, probably his precum. As you moved, your eyes prompted to the corner to find Iwaizumi's cock full on display as he stroked it with his big hands. Your cheeks burnt up immediately. Tetsuro caught the change in your expression and his pupils were fixated on you. He didn't know you enjoyed this so much.

"Iwa-chan."

"Don't call me—ugh that," he spoke in between moans.

"Aw c'mon. Why not? Shit, baby no teeth. You've seen my cock so I guess we're pretty close now."

"I am more focused on her. Ngh—look at her. Now I know why you call ker a kitten. fucking hell. lapping her tongue and all'at" Iwaizumi's balls were tightening. He was getting closer and closer. You knew because his gruntsbstarted getting heavier and louder. You were a few meters away from the laptop but it felt like he was right their, groaning in your ears.

"ah! fuck. yeah. Keep going, kitten. I am close. He is too—gorgeous fucking girl. yeah. fuck fuck. shit. ah! ah!" Now was the time when his hands started pushing you further down his cock till your nose bumped in his crotch. "fuck yeah. yeah. yeah 'm close. ah ah ngh—" tetsu's hand held your held in one place, forcing his dick until all his seed spilled down your throat. he knows you alwayd swallow it like a good girl. and you did. Noticing you gulping down his cum, gave Iwa the sweet release he was chasing.

"NGHH! Holy fuck," hajime cursed. You looked at the screen to find thick white ropes spilled all over his knuckles. Some even managed to shoot up to his black compression.

"Hmm," Kuroo chuckled. "Wanna say something to him pretty? Go ahead." You bit your bottom lip, still gazing at his softened cock. It looked big even when it was soft.

"Wish I could taste your cum too, Hajime." And his dick sprung up again. He didn't expect you to call him by his first name let alone say nasty things like that. That innocent image of you in his head was gone.

"Haha. See? Isn't she so cute?" Kuroo petted your head. "Aw look. Our meeting time is almost up." Hajime looked a little disappointed but Tetsu knew better. "How about we reschedule...in person?" And the smile at the end of a sentence confirmed that he was not going to discuss anything even remotely related to volleyball in the next meeting.

#kuroo x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #kuroo smut #iwaizumi smut #kuroo tetsuro x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #kuroo tetsurou smut #iwaizumi hajime smut #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #iwiazumi x y/n #iwaizumi x you

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blueberryarchive · 7 days

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The One Were Jungkook;

more slasher!jk

𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨; slasher, 80s, psychological horror

𝙩𝙬; non-con, somnophilia, horror, violence, blood

(thank you to @hoseokshobagi for helping me with this big mess, I love u, shut up)

NY, 1985

The little ol' Brew House wasn't like the bar you went to with Jimin. It was so small that you could feel the sweat running down your back, the ghost of a hand or a glance behind you with every step. There was a sour smell of old, dried beer on the rustic green furniture and freshly disinfected vomit in the corner where Jungkook motioned for you to sit.

"Sit down, don't move."

You climbed onto the cracked brown leather stool, your bare thighs sticking to it like Velcro. A band was playing Iron Man on the other side and it was so uncoordinated that it matched the people sitting there: middle-aged men in blue-collar jobs, women in black leather skirts and foreign students with little money, underworld poets and their upper class girlfriends living the fantasy of muses sitting one their boyfriend's thighs while they discussed Bob Dylan and Williams Burroughs. A green and brown amalgam of sweaty skin drinking warm beer and watered down whiskey.

You couldn't help but compare both places.

Sweaty Joe's was a bar just two corners from the university, it was bathed in colored lights and posters as old as the owners of the place themselves. Red leather sofas were distributed in the corners and those, for years, have belonged to the Maroon Knights players.

This is where you met Jimin, it was your first week and you and Bobby Joe decided to have a beer, you two were new, smiled candidly at each gentleman who offered you another drink. You had never done that in the small town where you came from.

Jimin was celebrating his first winter tournament, his crimson cheekbones and his elegant smile conquered your heart, he let you sleep in his room in the trailer where he lived with his four brothers. His hands never took yours without first asking you, never looked away. You fell asleep so quickly in that bed while the little snores of the quaterback kept you stable, safe.

At dawn, you couldn't even see his face, you spent a week avoiding the hallways where he frequented until you did what your mother did to apologize to people: you baked some cookies. Unfortunately, he was on a diet but he still accepted them, his younger brother would eat them all with pleasure, you offered him a kiss and he let himself go.

That afternoon you lost your virginity behind his secong-hand orange Pontiac, white cotton panties crumpled and drooled between your teeth as Jimin held your calves. You cried so much that he forgot to moan, but your boyfriend wiped away each tear with his wet tongue and his thumbs until his cum fell thickly onto your skirt and his uniform.

The second time was different. What you don't know is that you cooking for him lit a spark, a simple breeze in a dry forest and you were the summer sun. You were going to be his wife, he promised you, with drooping eyelids and your pelvis on top of a pillow, his hands guiding your ass until they collided with his waist.

“I'm going to make you mine, I'm going to buy you a house and a huge ring. Fuck—you’re going to have to stop me at some point because I’m going to get you pregnant every time you smile at me, love. Doesn't Ms. Park have a ring to it?" He growled grabbing your hair to pull you closer to his sweaty chest.

“What is that pretty head of yours thinking about, huh?” Jungkook snapped his fingers at you, placing a long mug of beer in front of you. The second cigarette of the afternoon dangled between his fingers as he waited for you to take a drink, his eyes darting from your chest to your hair. “I saw you look at the ring on your finger.”

“My boyfriend gave it to me a month ago.” You said fixing the thin silver ring, a promise desperate to be fulfilled.

“How very” The boy laughed, choking on the smoke, you held the beer and took a long drink.

You realized that men when they exist in a cloud of promises and anonymity are more fuckable, because now seeing the metalhead in front of you, you just wanted to hit him.

“I don't understand why you keep yapping when you're not here to hear me speak.”

“I didn't want us to move on to fucking so quickly, but if you can't wait, then we'll make a little something in the alley.” Seeing your face blush he laughed again. “I'm kidding, doll. Don’t be so rigid.”

With a whistle, Jeon effortlessly caught the eye of a man nearby. His muscles were noticeably defined, and he sported a pair of square glasses that added a touch of charm. Dressed in a casual plaid shirt, his hair styled like a military man. Spotting Jeon, his face lit up with recognition, and he quickly closed the distance between you.

“Kim, I thought you weren't coming to the meeting.” Out of the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of the man's slight tensing as his friend spoke, but without skipping a beat, his hand gently landed on his friend's shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"You literally said-"

"No, I didn't. Gosh, give me a break."

Hoseok looked in your direction with a hint of distrust, the creases on his face sharpening with each step you took. You walked closer, his eyes traced your body from head to toe, his initial skepticism fading away the moment he reached your side. Your little shorts and Wham! t-shirt hugged your curves tightly, clinging to your tits like a sculpture of marble.

"What's this?" Hoseok pointed at you and moved his fingers up and down.

"Come, I want to introduce you to my friend. We met in…" Jungkook's smile widened as he tilted his hand. “Well, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that you have to make a place for her in the club, wouldn't you gladly have one of the sweetest pieces of meat of the whole faculty on the team, eh?”

Jungkook looked in your direction again, he knew that the way he spoke caused tremendous disgust in you and he enjoyed it. “This is Hoseok, the president of the archery club. Greet him before he hates you for some reason.”

"Shut up." Hoseok's voice cut through the air as he extended his arm to shake yours, his calloused hand brushing against your skin. His sharp eyes studied your hands intently, examining every detail. "You got weird fingers."

"Is that how you give compliments to pretty girls?"

Hoseok let out a sigh, nonchalantly plucking the cigarette from Jungkook's mouth. With a subtle gesture, he motioned for his friend to approach while bringing the cigarette to his own lips.

“If you want to fuck one of the cheerleaders, find another way, I'm not going to put her in the club, dude.” His failed attempt at whispering, which was clearly intentional, didn't escape your ears.

“Do you think I have to fuck one of you to be part of your Disney Heroe theatre team?”

Hoseok's eyebrow arched, while leaning back against the bar stool. With a confident yet subtle sway, he adjusted his posture, his pelvis shifting ever so slightly, but still managing to catch your eye. A mischievous grin formed on one side of his lips, knowing full well of the effect he had on you. “And why the hell are you looking for me if you don't need me, Barbie?"

"I'm here to let you know that I'll be waiting for you in the green area on Monday at 3, expecting you to hand me a bow and arrow," You declared, a sweet smile playing on your lips like a precious jewel shimmering beneath a cloak of innocence as you deftly snatched the cigarette from between his parted lips. "And I hope you show up with a smile that could outshine the sun and a more decent cologne."

Hoseok scoffed with raised eyebrows, clearly unimpressed by your little rebel talk as you took a drag from his stolen cigarette.

"You do realize you'll be the only woman in the group, right? The guys ain't going to like you, they tend to be very…"

"Terrified of women," Jeon chimed in, leaning against your shoulder.

"Exclusive," Hoseok added.

"They'll probably do a jerk-off circle if they see me in a skirt." You quipped, a sly smile playing on your lips.

The three of you looked at the cubicle where the a few memebers sat, all upper class kids who couldn't get into anything in their lives without Mommy opening the door for them first.

“Whatever, you're not even that hot, they'll live.”

You smiled, turning around on your stool to continue drinking your beer. “See you on Monday, four eyes.”

“Bye, Hobi-Bobby.” Jungkook rested his arm on the bar, his eyes positioned on your profile.

“Do you want to fuck now? I love women who know how to silence men, i'm already hard.”

"Why are you so fucking disgusting?"

"You're the one sitting next to me, you can go now." And he waited. You stayed there, speechless and waiting, too.

"Kim?"

"Who?"

“The dickhead called you Kim.”

“I don't know who that is, sweetheart.”

“Mm.” You nodded. You weren't too sure now. “Are you sure you're the one I talked to that night?”

"I promise you." Jungkook dragged his stool closer to your ear, the smell of nicotine and shaving cream was pleasant, manly. "Are those sugar tits as sweet as that voice of yours?"

“What time did I call you?” You ignored his nutty breath.

“Are you questioning me now?”

"Yeah."

His jaw tensed, biting the inside of his cheeks.

“I'm going to give you some advice, doll. If you want things to go well today, don't question me.”

You felt a rush cover your back, the beer felt colder on your fingers and you were more aware of his proximity. You were in his territory, you didn't know anyone there, you were screwed.

“Can you answer me just one thing and that's it?”

Jungkook moved closer and nodded, his pupils stabbing at your lips waiting for you to say something out of line so he would have an excuse to destroy you with.

“Why do people think you are weird?”

His sigh collided with your neck, a smile woven little by little; you could see stars in his eyes when he moved back. The raw desire to show you why.

He leaned close to your ear and whispered slowly, the urge to laugh drowned out by his words. Both his hands hiding his lips like a child. You swallowed as you finished listening, a long drink to finish the remaining beer.

He pulled out a new cigarette before your eyes met his again.

“So, in your room or mine?” He mumbled before lightning the tip.

“I'm- I think I'm going home.”

"Isn't your home in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, you silly little bun'?"

The man in front of you pouted, nodding with a dejected face when he saw you stand up, the large mug of beer hitting your trembling anatomy. You wanted to vomit, to shed your own skin to pieces, to vanish, to crawl along the road back home like a mass of nerves and to sleep in your bed until you forgot what this psychopath had just hummed in your ear in the middle of the crowd.

But what did you expect? Wasn't this what you were looking for?

That's why curiosity ends up being the cruelest animal feeling. It takes you to the cheese on top of the trap, it makes you look at the sun and go blind, it makes you run through the grass until you fall at the bottom of nowhere. Voices like Jungkook's end up taking you to a seedy bar, at the mercy of God if he is even allowed in these parts.

“Come on, I'll take the bike down for you, then.”

You grabbed your backpack and walked in front of Jeon, stares like needles digging into your shorts.

Outside, his arms stretched out to take the bicycle, as light as a feather.

“I would've take you to college but-”

“I think this is where our journey ends, Jungkook.” Your voice was firm, elegant. You knew when to say goodbye.

He remained silent, one last smile as a gift. "If you say so." His hands opened dramatically to show you the road.

You raised your leg until you sat down and accelerated down the street, the sun hiding on the horizon. You didn't know if it was the wind hitting your cheeks and eyes, but you felt the cold stream go down to your neck. You wanted the road to get shorter in front of you and suddenly you were crying like a lost child, the sharp exhale stinging your lungs, you took all the alleys you recognized and the ones you didn't and you looked around at the desolate sides of New York.

Hiding from the sun your skin grew cold and the sobs turned to murmurs praying that you would return alive to the arms of Steph or Bobby Joe.

But oh, how angelic you looked with the halo of Jungkook's car headlights on your back. A honk chilled your blood until you couldn't do anything but grip the handlebars until your knuckles turned white.

“I changed my mind, I'll take you.” His breathing was jagged, he was sweating deeply, swallowing hard to hide the psychosis.

“It won't be long now and my boyfriend is waiting for me.”

“Don't worry, just load the bike and I'll drop you off at his house.”

'No' was not an answer and you knew that, no one ever said no to her and if they did no woman managed to keep her tongue to say it.

"Roger that. Thank you, Jungkook, you are a gentleman.”

“Of course, get off the bike now.” "She muttered as she snatched the iron from your hands and threw it behind her vehicle.

The trip was lethargic, the music faltered in the car with each curve until you reached a neighborhood of white houses and yellowish lights, the crickets chirped in the safe silence of a suburb. You thought about getting out when the car stopped and screaming until your lungs vomited.

But of course when you arrived the garage door was open, the car slid across the smooth concrete without a sound.

“Do you mind if I look for a few things before I take you home?” His voice sounded so carefree that you almost believed you were going back to your dorm room. You shook your head as he went down to close the garage door, the darkness consuming your hope.

Your heart began to beat blood so fast that your hands began to try to open your door, Jungkook tilted his head at the noise until he saw your reflection in the side mirror.

"Why you do that? God, you’re so stupid.” Jungkook took your hair in his hands and without much effort dragged you out of the vehicle and onto the garage floor. His hand covered your mouth, his calloused and sweaty fingers undoing the button on your Levi's until they stuck to your ankles.

“It's only once, you have to reward me for the beer you had.” His voice burned in your ear along with the beating of your heart, a light hum of your soul trying to get away from your dirty body.

“Mm-” You groaned as you felt the fabric of his jeans mold between your ass. Moving was in vain, fighting a mere fantasy.

“Just a quickie and then I'll drop you off, don't be so rigid.”

Your body was puppeteered to the living room with dim lights, curved and modern furniture that someone paid great attention to match with the upholstery and the carpet that decorated the floor.

And your body was thrown to the edge of the pink couch, the metal underneath the cloth digging into your stomach, your ass in the air as you felt cold hands remove your underwear. Why weren't you moving? Why did you let this happen to you? What was your mom doing right now? You thought of her chubby body moving around her room while organizing her dresses.

Warm spit fell onto your pussy and you closed your eyes, the last tear creating a shadow on the corrugated carpet as Jungkook slid his cock around the entrance to wet the entire area. The phone rang five, six, ten times next to you. Beep.

Hello, you are calling the sweet home of Bee, Dr. Kim and Taehyung. We are on vacation in Florida, but when we arrive we will take your message. Bye bye!

Who were the animated voices humming on the phone and why was Jungkook's voice there? You looked at the stranger loosening his grip on the sudden crackling laughter coming from the small speaker on the phone.

"Fuck." The now stranger mumbled, holding your neck with his forearm.

"You got the wrong kid, callgirl." And your eyes opened like a full moon, you looked at the closed windows of the room. “Taehyung, you have ten to hide.”

"Shit." Taehyung whimpered behind you pushing your body to the ground, instinctively you grabbed his leg causing his body to fall to the ground next to yours.

If you were going to die today, you wouldn't do it alone.

"Five, six…"

“What the fuck are you doing, you fucking whore?! I will die if he finds me.” His reddened face dragged trying to take your sudden weight and strength off of him. It was useless. Black Sabbath began to play above the house, reverberating, like thousands of wasps between the walls. “I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please. Let me go."

Taehyung's head reached the kitchen when a worn military boot stopped his movements. The muddy sole of the boot collided with Taehyung's head, making it bounce again and again and again against the wood of the kitchen. It was a hollow, wet sound, more forceful with each blow.

You leaned your body back until you collided with the sofa, your nails anchored in the carpet.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, ple-” Taehyung tried to speak until the boot took the last hit and his jaw hung from his mouth like a toy. His eyes looked back with mercy. Run, he shouted to you with his bleeding eyes, run until you die but run. A broomstick passed through his mouth until his body bounced once more.

So still.

Drool was falling from the corners from having your mouth open for so long. Why didn't you run? Is it that the boot you were looking for so long? Was the cruelty of being curious true?

An excessively tall figure passed through the kitchen frame, avoiding Taehyung's lifeless body. Black was the first thing you saw, the dirty jeans, the leather jacket tied around his waist, the Motley Crue tank top pressing against his chest and shoulders. Sweat dripped from his mullet to his tattoos.

His face, soft and covered in red. His oval nose and thin lips, eyes like a dead deer. Metal surrounding the room like the choir of fallen angels.

It was him, it was Jungkook.

“Poor little thing.” He licked his lips as he held your chin so you were looking at him. “Look at you, so afraid of that fucking-” he growled under his breath, getting down to your level.

"Please do not kill me." You cried, the air was thick, like sulfur around him.

“I didn't promise you that in the call, baby. Did you forget already?"

His hands were delicate under your armpits until he lifted you up and took your body to the furniture sitting you on top of his wide thighs. Your body looking at the turned off television, the curved reflection showed the difference in size. You were a doll on top of that beast.

“Put your foot up.” He ordered as he grabbed your knee to help you put on your Levi's with the softness of a creature in feather hands. "Stop crying."

“I can't, I'm too scared, I want to go home.”

"Pity." Jungkook sighed, taking your underwear from his jeans, wet with some chemical. His tattooed fingers took the flimsy cotton to your nose. Bitter at first and then it burned in your lungs. “Don't try to fight it, it'll be worse for you, baby. Atta girl, just let go, inhale.” His voice was serious, unharmed, like an anesthetic just like the clorophorm. There was no harm in closing your eyes if you were in the great hands of a beast, a mammoth.

"I like you girls manageable, stupid." Was the last thing you heard, a smile grazing your neck.

Your body rose without permission, abrupt. The pain was immeasurable.

“Jimin, she's up!” You heard a small voice in the corner of a familiar room, the sheets rough and thick.

The silhouette of Jimin's younger brother ran to the kitchen. The other two brothers approached the door, their blond heads peeking out. Jimin pushed them until he reached you.

“Hyung-”

“Shut the door, JP. I’m sick of you, just eat your fucking breakfast and get out of the house.” Jimin shouted, looking at his brothers out of the corner of his eye.

The slow footsteps receded and Jimin turned his attention to you.

“Love, no, don't cry. I'm here.”

His name fell from your lips desperately as you squeezed his face, consuming every detail so your body knew it was real and wouldn't squirm like a worm.

“Breathe with me, come on.”

You closed your eyes hugging your boyfriend's neck.

“Come on, I've prepared a hot bath for you in the twins' room.” You shook your head frantically without breaking away. “It's just to get the mud off your body, then we'll go back to bed.”

"Mud?"

“Minjun found you outside this morning, do you know where you were last night, who did this to you?”

You grabbed the sheets and uncovered your body, bruises covering your legs and stomach. The dried mud covering the sheets of Jimin's bed. A scream choked in your throat.

“Its okay, I can change the sheets. Don’t worry about that. Let's go champ, up.” Jimin patted your injured thigh so you would chain your legs around his abdomen. With a grunt, Jimin lifted you up and carried you to a makeshift tub of hot water.

The little beds were together on one side of the small room, a metal tub emanating sweet steam covering the walls of the room in a thin web of drops.

“Raise your arms.” Jimin kissed your neck gently, the nausea returning little by little but you just let your body melt in the arms of the only person who mattered. His eyes shone with the concern of a father, he undressed you as quickly as possible so that the bruises didn't have time to hurt. Reaching your shorts, he knelt in front of you and stared at your tired face.

“I shouldn't have gone to the bar last night.” He wavered his speech for a second as he slowly lowered the zipper.

“Shh.” Your hand fell into his messy hair, he was still wearing his pajamas, what time did Jungkook throw you in front of Jimin's trailer?

The silence became strange, different. You didn't understand Jimin's sudden furrowed eyebrows when he took off your Levi's.

“Minnie?”

“Motherf-” Jimin stood up and hit the wall hard. His body turned around until he was looking at the jeans on the floor again. “That's it, I'm calling Yoongi.”

"What? Yoongi, what for? Minnie, don't leave, please."

"Don't move!"

Your boyfriend disappeared from the room before you asked him what was happening. You sighed with a heavy heart as you walked in pain to the shots on the floor: a wide, slimy stain extended from front to back. The pants fell to the floor and you went to the mirror on the wall.

Your trembling finger curved until you felt the hole between your legs, the whitish and salty cum thread stretched from your entrance to your shocked face.

You don't remember Taehyung penetrating you. Was Jungkook such an animal that he came inside while you were passed out? How could he?

Tears gathered in your eyes as you laughed silently, the pain was unbearable around your waist and legs, pussy still numb and you could only remember the patterns on the carpet.

Cruel curiosity.

#❗slasher! jk thoughts #bts imagines #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts dark fic

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forbidden-sunlight · 1 year

Text

yandere!poseidon headcanons with fem!kokushibo!reader

warning: obsessive behavior, violence, spoilers from manga/anime. Please take caution when reading the content.

Credit for this piece goes to @recreationalfanfics and their phenomenal works, specifically this one. I would like to specially thank my friend @nixes-noxes for helping me fine-tune this script to its fullest potential.

The intention of this story is for entertainment purposes only. The behavior exhibited here is inappropriate and unhealthy, hence it should not be encouraged. There are also triggers, so please take caution. You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

A demon was born from the malice of mankind. That is the story that humans and gods believe…but that is not the truth in your case.

Fearing death, you willingly drank Muzan Kibitsuji’s blood and became the first Upper Moon. One of Twelve Kizuki to serve him and provide aid in his quest to obtain a solution to walk in the sunlight. You had died by the hands of your descendant and his fellow Demon Slayers, unsatisfied with the life you had lived as an abomination. In the end, you could not attain the innate talent your little brother possessed.

Because you were a creature classified as ‘evil’, you were confined to the depths of Helheim as punishment to suffer for all eternity. Not wanting to perish for a second time, you sliced down enemies and cultivated your Moon Breathing Style in the hellish landscape before you were suddenly plucked out of that place, coming face-to-face with your new master: the Valkyrie called Brunhilde.

Apparently, she had intended to call out another champion to fight against the gods in a tournament known as Ragnarok, but for some unknown reason you were whisked here by her summons. Seeing this ‘accident’ as an opportunity, you laid out your sword and offered your loyalty to her. Yes you were a demon, but you had been loyal to Muzan until your dying breath. Being the servant to a demigod would not be any different, minus facing the antagonization of both human and gods alike for just being by her side.

It was better than returning to Helheim, anyway. The water did not scorch your skin and the high quality tea leaves were exceptional.

The smallest pleasures in life made a difference…but does that include being on the roster to fight against the infamous tyrant of the divine waters, Poseidon? Probably not.

Yandere!Poseidon

This is a god who is the physical embodiment of perfection. He is a king who has no need to be supported by individuals who are beneath him in the hierarchy of all life. Furthermore, he was not pleased when his little brother had added him as a contender in this childish tournament without his consent. Why stall the inevitable fate of humanity with Ragnarok? It’s honestly a waste of time for him.

There has never been an opponent who did not quiver at the sight of his trident nor survived to tell the tale. So why should he even bother to give any effort in this fight? His opponent was a demon. It is only natural that a demon would be stomped down by someone like himself, even if it is a female one with a slightly impressive physique and once bore the moniker ‘Moon Hashira’.

Untamed [Hair Color] tresses held together in a ponytail that reached to her waist. [Favorite Color] nagagi-kimono and black umanori-styled pants tied with a white obi. [Eye Color] irises and red sclera with words written on them.

The only reason he even recognized the clothing is because Aphrodite whined about the ‘poor fashion’ taste of Brunhilde’s new ‘pet’...but did she honestly expect anything more from a demon?

No, but she enjoyed hearing the others praise her intellect and how no one could ever hold a candle to the beauty of the lusty goddess. A hypocrite by any other name. She and Ares had another falling out, again.

Still it would not bother the gods nor himself by allowing his opponent to try and land a hit on him before killing the unfortunate abomination. The effort of an ant trying to avoid being crushed by a boot is always…adorable.

This act of ‘kindness’ towards the Moon Hashira led Poseidon into a match that has lasted longer than the previous Ragnarok bouts. She did not hesitate to use the water surrounding the arena to create a heavy mist that acted as a smokescreen before attacking from behind with her sword. She slashed his calves and right forearm, then jammed her sword that is made from her own flesh and blood into his stomach. She was going to kill him. She would do whatever it took to win the fight.

This revelation enraged Poseidon. How dare a demon think that she can kill a god? Blasphemy! HE IS A GOD, HE IS PERFECTION. ANYONE WHO DISAGREES HIM DESERVES TO DIE.

And yet he still found himself kneeling on the circular platform, leaning heavily against his trident with the bloodied edge of her sword pressed against the side of his neck. If it isn’t the reversal of positions that bothered him the most, it was the look of indifference dancing in the Moon Hashira’s eyes. As if he was the one being a nuisance and not the other way around.

Suddenly, she withdrew her sword and sheathed it. “I will not kill you.” She said, “A hierarchy exists to keep the balance between those who sit at the top of the food chain and those who are barely scraping by. Those who upset the balance must be punished accordingly. I am a demon, so I should die by the hands of a god…but I will not allow myself to die by someone who does not respect my master. That is…embarrassing. So take this loss as an act of kindness from me. The humiliation of being defeated by someone such as myself is more than adequate punishment.”

Turning her back to him, she stepped onto the boat that was tied to a stone pillar and drifted back to the human’s side of the arena. Poseidon also retreated, refusing Ares’ offers to escort him to the medical wing and swiftly returning to his palace beneath the ocean floor. He ignored Proteus’ concerns, isolating himself in his quarters as he…unleashed his anger onto the furniture. They could be easily replaced…but his defeat cannot be remedied just like the splintered wood, the tattered drapes, or anything he had thrown around the room.

He has lost against an imperfect creature. Him, the one who is the most feared and blessed god in the pantheons. How could this have happened?! How?!

Though is the Moon Hashira truly an ant if she had beaten him? No. But there is no use thinking about the wretched embodiment of impurity anymore. He…has lost the match, and in the end it is just one loss for the gods. Humanity will be destroyed, and the divine waters will be restored to their glory once the vermin have been eradicated.

Shortly after he had regained his composure, Poseidon returned to the Grecian’s private balcony to watch the other matches. As he is a god, his wounds healed within a matter of hours…so why could he have still felt the sword in his belly, twisting his insides? Why?

This might be the starting point in his descent to madness. He would remain a silent statue even in the aftermath of his adopted nephew’s death by Jack The Ripper’s hands, and Shiva’s obvious win against Raiden Taeemon while his brethren watched the events unfold in awe and anger.

But no matter how hard he tried to dissuade thoughts about the Valkyrie’s servant, his mind always drifted back to the Moon Hashira. He silently reflected on their fight; he remembered the humiliation when she spared his life, her deadly grace as she released one form of the Moon Breathing Style, her perfection.

[First Name] [Last Name], the Moon Hashira and a demon summoned from the depths of Helheim to save humanity….she was perfection. And Poseidon wanted her.

Knowing that the moon always gravitated towards the ocean would only feed into his delusions that it must be a sign from the Fates that this is his other half. The companion who will be by his side for all enternity. So why does she still dare to stand by Brunhilde and whisper in the demigod’s ear? Why does she converse with the samurai Kojiro, when he had no business being near her, let alone sharing a plate of Japanese snacks and tea?

How dare she smile at the man who had killed Heracles and the traitorous Buddha? She is perfect, there is no need to waste her time teaching her breathing techniques to a brat that went toe-to-toe with Loki in the greenhouse!

When the tyrant of the oceans witnessed [First Name] showing more emotions around the other combatants, he knows must act swiftly or else she will be snatched away by someone else who is lesser than a god of perfection such as himself, or worse be cast aside by her malicious master for the sake of humanity’s survival.

He will make the necessary arrangements with Proteus to prepare his kingdom for the arrival of a new queen.

Bonus Content:

The Moon Hashira is fully aware of Poseidon’s psychotic tendencies and will not make it easy for him to whisk her away like Zeus’ previous mistresses. Nor is she blindly loyal to being oblivious to Brunhilde’s scheming.

She did not live for half of a millennia as an Upper Moon by being an idiot.

Taglist:

@rukia-writes

@recreationalfanfics

@dazailover1900

@nixes-noxes

@the-dumber-scaramouche

@onecantsimply

@yellow-snark

@radioactivesweet

#snv x reader #snv poseidon #record of ragnarok x reader #poseidon record of ragnarok #kokushibo!reader #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #ns.fw #forbidden-sunlight #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #poseidon headcanons

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hailsatanacab · 3 months

Note

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache.

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were.

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too?

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence.

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How?

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman.

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year.

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating.

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..."

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he...

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please."

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now. "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb.

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc fanfic #wip game #thanks for the ask <3 and thanks for helping me remember this fic lol #also huge thanks for having the prompt linked because i have S O M A N Y prompt wips that i can't ever post because i've lost the post #didn't really know how to get danny to calm down #that's a lie #i have a few ideas of where this can go but no motivation for it - not against all the other wips #i'll keep at it and ig post to ao3 should it actually start looking alright #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#dudes did u kno u can pin shit to your clipboard on desktop because i fucking love that #also if you use the windows key + . there's like emojis and shit #(((φ(◎ロ◎;)φ)))#<- and kaomoji too!!!!!#anyway that's been fun facts and fanfic with me. ur welcome #oh shit my writing tag #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #at some point 'oh shit my writing tag' will just become my writing tag #anyway thank you again for the ask #good night everyone!!!!!

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Text

I've been dreaming of the Ambitious King.

Long live the King of Beasts, he who shines like the sun.

He stands atop the heap, clutching victory in his righteous grasp.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

"We've come to finals of the interschool Spelldrive tournament!" an announcer blares over the stadium. "It's down to the wire, and this will be the deciding round. With the scores tied, it’s anyone’s game!!"

A crowd chomps at the bit for a winner to emerge from the field. They lean forward in their seats, clutch onto hope, stuff their mouths with soda and popcorn. This is a show, the players, actors, and they, the audience.

Leona allows himself a smirk.

We’ll give’m a real show-stopper then. That crown is as good as mine.

“What should our strategy be this time, sir?” a teammate—a Scarabia student—asks.

They’re huddled shoulder to shoulder, one student contributed from each of the seven dorms. Their allegiances may lie in different places, but they all wear the same black and violet uniform. They are all Night Ravens, united under one banner: his.

“We’ll finish this in a single decisive blow,” Leona replies, snapping his goggles on. “I’ll take the disc and score us that final point. The rest of you, cover me.”

“You heard the boss,” the smallest player says. It’s Epel, tiny but feisty—a contrast to his big blue eyes and lilac waves of hair. “Don’t worry, Leona-senpai! I’ll fer sure keep’m offa yer tail!”

“That’s what I like to hear, kid.” He raises his head and calls, “Clear!”

And with that, the players peel off into their own positions. The other team, uniforms pristine white and hemmed in royal blue, are patiently waiting. Leona pulls up to the center of the field where the referee and the opposing team’s leader await.

When he looks, he falters.

It’s a face that is frighteningly similar to his own.

The same skin color, the same lion ears and tail, the same construction of the features—if not softer and more friendly. His mane is held up in a ponytail, bright red-orange that fades into a golden yellow. He’s younger than he should be, missing the slight creases under his warm brown eyes and the lines that flank his perpetually smiling mouth.

“Falena?”

An icy dread creeps up from his core. The world around him seems to slow and come to a complete stop.

But this can’t be. My brother is 10 years older than me. He’s no longer a student, he’s—

“Leona? Is something wrong?” Falena inquires with a cheeky grin. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid to play against family.”

Annoyance flares up.

Brother or not, Leona detests that smile. The smile of a man that has robbed him of everything.

“Dream on,” he snarls back. “I’m overthrowing Royal Sword Academy and you."

The referee lets the disc drop and blows into his whistle. “BEGIN!!”

"Aaand it's started!!" the announcer declares.

His body instinctively kicks into action. He swipes the frisbee, keeping it afloat in a blaze of blood-red magic.

RSA swarm him, magical pens at the ready.

“Protect him…!” he hears Epel shout. “Protect the king!!”

His team charges, each of them trained on their target. NRC and RSA, reflecting the other, copying movements as they bound around on the field, seeking an opening or cutting it off.

Leona blows into enemy territory, furiously racing to the goal post.

"What's this?! It looks like Captain Kingscholar of the NRC team has already devised a plan to secure victory. They're closing off any aid the RSA team can offer to each other!"

The crowd revs up like an engine coming alive, a slumbering city waking. Blood thunders in his ears, louder than his audience.

"Oh no, you don't!"

"Oooh, and here comes the upset! It's Captain Kingscholar of the RSA team, come to interfere with the game plan!"

Leona swerves, and a stream of fire narrowly misses him. "Tsk!"

A flash of red and gold, and there's his brother at his side. "Sorry, Leona. It won't be that easy."

"Knock it off. I don't have time to play games with you!"

He dives, trying to shake Falena off--but he pursues, relentless in the chase. They thread each other in the sky, trading spells.

Explosions of heat and color. Shards of ice whizzing by, columns of water. Windy whips lashing at them. All-consuming light and darkness.

"This is amazing, folks! We are witnessing a brotherly quarrel the likes of which we've never seen before... Look at that dazzling display of flight technique and spellwork!"

Through it all, Falena' laughs.

So carefree, so cheerful. A knife twists in his chest, and the anger spikes again.

"That's enough...! I'm ending this," Leona snarls.

His magic collects in a single sphere. There is no body to it, no true shape--only a contained vortex of gales. They violently churn in an endless cycle, raising a storm in a jar.

He sends it hurtling at Falena, who moves to conjure a barrier--

Too late.

The ball expands, releasing its energy in one deep sigh. The audience is slammed back into their seats, the players blown to the ground or sent crashing into the bounds of the stadium. They're dazed, confused, scrambling to rebalance on their brooms.

The path, he sees, is clear.

Now...!

He lets out a monstrous roar and blitzes for the goal post. The disc sparkles, charging with power for the final blow as he gallops toward his prize.

The announcer hops back on, his voice frantic. "Could this be it?! Can Captain Kingscholar of the NRC team reclaim the throne from his brother?!"

Noise builds around him. RSA players calling out to each other, NRC players changing his name, the crowd cheering.

It's now or never.

Leona spikes the disc with all his might. It clears, the winning shot like a shooting star. Some golden object encapsulated in a blaze of fire.

The adrenaline in his blood sings with triumph. His tired muscles, his heavy breathing, the sweat upon his brow--badges of honor.

The sound intensifies, joined by whistles and shrieks. Feet stomping, hands clapping. People standing and hugging their neighbors. (Leona thinks he sees Crowley among them, sobbing uncontrollably.)

“This is incredible, ladies and gentlemen! You’ve just witnessed history being made today…! Night Raven College has snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, breaking Royal Sword Academy’s 99 year win streak!!"

Leona slowly returns to the ground, dismounting from his broom. He lands beside Falena, who is sprawled on his back and wearing the usual smile.

"Ahahah, looks like you beat me," he says casually.

"... Fool. Get up, you look ridiculous. The acting king of the Sunset Savanna shouldn't be rolling around in the dirt." Leona looks away, but awkwardly offers a hand.

Falena laughs and accepts it, hauling himself up. "That's a funny joke. When did you get a sense of humor?"

He scowled. "I didn't make one."

"Are you still half asleep? And you still beat me?" Falena punches him in the bicep. "That's my talented big bro."

"What... big bro?"

There it is again: something cold and sinister inside of him. The lingering feeling of wrongness.

Suddenly, the adrenaline in him turns toxic, and he feels as though his flesh and bones are burning. Leona seizes Falena by the shoulders and shakes him.

"What the hell is going on... Gaaah!"

A metallic screech fills the stadium. Pain blossoms in his ears, and Leona rushes to guard them, hands dropping away from Falena.

"Oops, sorry! Technical difficulties, folks!" the announcer apologizes. "It looks like even our equipment wants to cheer for Captain Kingscholar of the NRC team, the star player of today! Let's give him a round of applause!!"

They explode with excitement, Clapping and calling out louder than he can think.

"What a judicious young man!"

"He controls such powerful magic with ease...!"

He stands there, shocked, at the rain of adoration. Him, recognized? Respected, saluted, and seen as the wonder he is? Him?

His mind clouds.

What is this,,,?

"Leona-saaaan!!"

He turns, finding his teammates jogging over, Epel at the head. There are members of his own dorm with them--Ruggie, Jack.

"We gotcha now, Leona-san! Thought you could get away without getting your fur ruffled, huh?" Ruggie snickers, then gives Jack a thumbs-up. "Alright, fellas. You know what to do!"

"Hah, the hell is this? I didn't ask for a surprise after working my tail off."

"Sorry, Leona-senpai! Ruggie-senpai's orders!" Jack says very seriously. "This is the only way to give you a proper sendoff for carrying us to victory... You've earned it!"

"1, 2, 3...!"

"Wha...?!"

Leona is seized and hoisted into the air with a collective whoop of excitement. Tossed up, up, up. The stadium lights glaring, sound blasting.

He returns back to his peer's arms, and heaved up again. Down and up, down and up. Each pass makes him more nauseous, blinded and deafened by the dizzying joy.

"Long live the king! Long live the king!!" they chant.

The king... me? Leona fights against it, pushing as hard as he can.

But his body is tired, his mental capacities drained, his emotions worn. The situation, too sweet, too cloying.

I'm... the king... I won. This is my prize.

He closes his eyes and lets himself fall.

This time, for good.

When he opens them again, he swears he sees a dark figure flying high above the stadium. Not on a broom, but floating of his own accord. A pair of horns protrudes him his head, and he glimpses a pair of ghostly white hands clapping.

One additional spectator with glowing green eyes.

"Congratulations, Kingscholar."

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sevikasbeloved · 2 months

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PART 1 - BOXER AU

It’d been a month since you last saw your girlfriend, and it was killing you.

Of course you knew that dating a boxer would come with consequences like these, her training sending her away for months at a time, abstaining from relaxing Sundays, your world famous cooking and most of all you. The last thing you struggled to handle as much as the others, not knowing her touch for days was already too much for you but a whole month…

You felt your body turning in on itself.

However, today you walked with a pep in your step and a smile on your face, because that long standing streak would be broken, and she was finally coming home.

She knew you’d be at her fight, and you imagined she was just as gripped with anticipation as you were, for more reasons than just seeing you.

You put on your nicest dress, a sparkly gold one that slit itself dangerously high on your thigh, just as she’d like it. You tied your hair up so her favourite part of you was shown in full glory, ready to be stained with her lips.

You walked over to your dresser, pulling out a sleek black box. Inside was the most gorgeously elegant necklace she’d gotten you after her biggest victory. As your hand ran along the diamond encrusted chain, you could feel tears welling up in your face.

You weren’t one for material things, but you knew that was her own way of showing you how much she valued you, and boy, was it a lot.

You took the necklace from its box, taking yourself back in front of the mirror as you put it to your neck, clasping it easily so it hung just below your collarbones.

You smiled at your own reflection, knowing how much she’d appreciate the effort you’d gone to, even though she always said,

‘You’re already enough, without all the extra.’

___

The venue was booming, the line to get in stretching around the corner and across the street. Eyes looked on you like you were a goddess incarnate as you walked coolly past the long stretch of people, all dressed up almost as well as you.

These boxing matches weren’t your typical run of the mill. People would put their life savings on a winner, rich people. A part of you didn’t enjoy the spectacle that Sevika had become, the ‘scary lady’ men wanted to get a peek at and women wanted to court. But you knew at the heart of it, it was what Sevika loved to do, and she was damn good at doing what she loved.

As you reached the front door to the venue a tall yet stocky security guard dressed in all black caught your glistening attire, immediately recognising you. He approached you with a gentle smile, ushering you ahead and into the building.

Cameras flashed on you, almost obstructing your view as you cautiously stepped ahead of your guard, weaving through the press asking you probing questions about your lover.

“Tell us Miss, what does Sevika do on her off days?”

“Is she as good in bed as she is in the ring?”

You rolled your eyes, ducking your head as you hid a smile, sure that everyone could guess the answer to it if they saw the red blush on your cheeks.

You were directed into the main arena, the pure size of it making you feel a little queasy. As you walked down the aisle you spotted a small promotional sign reading;

It’s simple!

No rules, regulations, just pure fighting!

Your heart sank.

You’d seen that sign many times, and even still it made your heart drop like it was the first time you were seeing it. As said earlier, these tournaments were no run of the mill fights, they were uncut and uncensored, pure blood fighting.

A fight to the death, if you were lucky, and if you were unlucky, life long damage that would kill your career faster than you could blink.

You grabbed a seat in one of the front boxes, looking around at the empty stadium moments before it filled. You imagined what Sevika had to have been doing, prepping for her fight, doing her final weigh in, thinking about you.

Her name shone in bright lights on the jumbotron ahead of you, forcing you to take a breath. It was scary, you couldn’t lie. There were times you imagined you’d be sitting front stage as you watched her life be taken, and all for entertainment.

But it hadn’t happened, not yet anyways.

The room burst into music and chatter as the doors opened to the general public, your head swivelled round as you watched people flood into the building, scurrying to find their seats.

“Are you ready to rumble?!” A faceless voice roared as the crowd roared louder.

People across the stadium began banging the back of their seats and stomping their feet, shaking the foundation of the room. A small smile fell on your face despite your previous anxieties. Despite their bloodthirst, the crowd always brought the energy expected at an event this major.

“That’s what I like to hear!” The voice exclaimed, “let’s not waste any more of your precious time and welcome our beloved fighters.”

The cheers grew louder than you imagined they could ever be.

“Y’all know him best, the hornet, the python,” the voice rattled the crowd into an even bigger frenzy. Sevika’s opponent was a surprise and it had been that way for the past three fights, since people could guess who’d win before the fight would start, “the town's meanest sheriff, Marcus!”

Oh fuck.

The smile on your face dropped. Marcus played dirty and no rules meant he was glorified for it. There was rumour that he’d once stabbed his opponent to get his victory, hiding the blade between his teeth. You fucking hated him, and Sevika damn sure didn’t respect him.

She was a fair fighter to a fault, her prowess proving more than enough to win countless fights. You’d both spoken of the possibility that one day she’d have to square off with him, but you never imagined it would actually happen, because you never imagined she’d agree to fight him.

“Alright, alright, simmer down ladies and gentlemen, as I have yet to introduce to you,” he paused dramatically and the crowd fell quiet, but you could feel the buzz of energy arising again as everyone waited with bated breaths, “Our undefeated champ, the one we all wish we could be…”

The crowd, unable to hold its applause erupted again, and this time you joined too, whooping along with everyone else,

“The panther, our very own scary lady, SEVIKAAAA!” He screamed, his voice almost turning singsongy as the music played again, booming violently along with the flashing strobe lights.

You stood from your seat, cupping your hands to your lips as you cheered raucously. Suddenly the strobe lights honed in on two separate parts of the stadium.

Marcus emerged first, wearing a dark blue robe to match with his blue gloves and shorts. He hopped on his toes as he punched the air, winking grossly at the camera, his face supersized on the jumbotron.

He made his way to the ring, backed by his crew who were all matching with his colour palette, trading his gloves for some corny ass sunglasses. You rolled your eyes.

He hopped around the ring energetically, blowing kisses to the audience who cheered him on and raised a closed fist at the ones who booed. He made his way to your side, leaning up against the rope as he looked at you with a cocky grin.

“Hi there Sevika’s girlfriend, sorry in advance, I’ll try not to send her home on a stretcher.” He teased, not bothering to wait by you for a reaction as he returned to the rest of the crowd to receive his premature praise.

The music suddenly changed, the bass of it stopping Marcus right where he stood as he turned to face her corner.

“She’s here…” the voice called out teasingly.

You scoffed as you watched Marcus’ face shine with a sliver of doubt. You turned, leaning anxiously against your seat as you peaked over multiple heads to try to get a good look.

The music had switched to more dark and foundation shaking music. You couldn’t get a good look from where you were as you heard the crowd scream out, pointing to her entrance, so you turned to face the jumbotron, and in all her glory, there she was.

Just feet from where you sat, Sevika wore her hair into a tight bun, donning a rich gold and purple combo on her shorts and sports bra, a royal purple robe shrouded over her muscular body. She walked out alone, her head bowed as her face remained hidden by the large hood over her head.

You bit your lip just at the sight, this the first time you’d seen her in months and you could feel your stomach turn a thousand times as you switched between her walkway and the jumbotron, trying not to miss her in person despite being unable to see her immediately.

Then she rounded the corner, and she was there, finally, in the flesh. You’d almost forgotten how tall she was, at least in comparison to you and over half the attendees, and Marcus.

You gazed over at him for a second, noticing how his jaw tightened at the sheer sight of her, but as you turned back you saw Sevika standing right infront of you.

Your face glowed, and you stood up immediately, hugging her tightly. Her arms came around your waist, pulling you against the divider between you.

“I’ve missed you so much, baby.” She whispered in your ear.

“Missed you more.” You giggled, placing a small kiss on her cheek.

She looked from beneath her hood at you, her sterling eyes looking at you with complete adoration.

“Look at that ladies and gentlemen, isn’t that just something!” The voice called out again, reminding the two of you of the stadium filled with people.

A camera came up beside the two of you, supersizing your intimate scene onto the jumbotron. You waved at the camera with a smile, Sevika’s chuckle rumbling through your body pressed against hers.

You leaned into her side again,

“Win this and come home to me, okay?” You whispered, the crowd cheering not only Sevika but now also you on, scattered wolf whistles filling the arena.

She flashed a toothy smile at you then turned away, letting her gloved arm ghost against your body for a little while before hopping up into the ring, meeting with Marcus head to head.

She stood towering over him for just a second, before shrugging her robe off and tossing it off the side of the ring. A short man came running behind her, picking it up in one hand and in another holding a bottle of water with a towel thrown over his shoulder. Her coach. He’d been by her side for close to a decade and had practically become family, and as long as he was there you trusted she’d be okay.

“Let’s get it started, the fight we’ve all been anticipating!” The voice said, his words ushering Sevika and Marcus into position on each side of the ring.

In a flash it started, the sound of a bell chiming had them hot on their feet, dancing around the ring, circling each other like sharks.

Marcus was fast with the first punch, socking her in her abdomen, but she hardly flinched, taking that second where his defences were down to side hook him, sending his stumbling into the rope.

The crowd went wild and so did you, anxious in your seat, you cheered louder than anyone in there. He gained his footing again, shaking his head straight as he hopped on his toes again, throwing out false punches in hopes to psyche her out, but she didn’t waver, not one bit.

He came in again, connecting a punch to her jaw, then her side. She faltered back a step, the hit to her jaw causing her to lose her bearing a little, but again, as expected, she was back without a second for Marcus to revel in it.

She didn’t hit him back though, the crowd jeering her on to take a hit, but you could see the look on her face. She was learning his moves, studying him as the match progressed.

___

The first couple rounds had passed and both of them had gotten their hits in but Marcus looked tired, wary. Sevika sat on her stool, arms stretched across the rope as her coach dabbed her glistening forehead, flailing his arms about as he spoke tactics and moves.

Once he had finished his rambling she picked up her bottle taking a long sip of water. She folded her body over placing it down again, looking over her shoulder at you with a wink. You could only blush, still feeling as giddy as the first day she pulled you.

She stood up again for the third round, rolling her shoulders back as she stood head to head with Marcus. You watched Marcus say something with a bloody smile, his head cocking over to you. Your brows furrowed but before Sevika could respond and you could process anything, the bell rang again and they were off.

Whatever Marcus had said to Sevika had obviously pissed her off, because she was on him like a bloodhound, throwing wild punches at every weak point on his body, forcing him back into his corner. The crowd went crazy, people standing from their seats, thrusting their fists in the air in an attempt to get in on the action from where they were sat.

She let up, stepping back as Marcus put his weight on the rope behind him. He spat out a spitball of blood, staining the ring's flooring. He looked at her with murderous rage.

You couldn’t help feeling nervous. As much as you didn’t like Marcus you were very well attuned to his fights, and you knew when he was backed into a corner, just as he was now, that’s when he played as dirty as the ground beneath him.

He tucked his hands into his pants, then put said hand into his mouth. Some of the crowd groaned in disgust, but the ones that knew him, sat on the edge of their seats.

Suddenly, he started tweaking, his head seemingly imbalanced on his head, he craned it backwards as he screamed out, and when his head knocked back forward and you saw the purple in his eyes, your mouth stuttered open, and not a breath came from it as you could only stare on in horror.

You saw Sevika falter back, and your heart sank lower than you imagined it could, she was scared. You could see it in the way her arms contracted and her shoulders tensed up.

“Getcha head in the game, Sevika, bloody hell!” Her coach yelled from the sidelines.

Her head swivelled to his voice, shaken by the state of Marcus, the effects of shimmer taking over his smaller frame, his body now built like a beast.

In a moment Marcus was on her, toppling her over as he pummelled her face in. You stood up, your knuckles turning sticking sharply from your hand as you gripped the divider.

“No!” You screamed, tears welling in your eyes.

This was one of those things you hated. Watching her take a beating. But this one was worse than all the other ones, she’d never been toppled like she was, beat like she was.

“Sevika, fucking get up! Get up!” You screamed again, in a hope to get through to what you could imagine was a tunnel vision moment for her.

Her arms wrapped around his bulging body as she struggled with him on the ground.

“C’mon, baby, you got this!” You called out again.

She turned him over so she was now above him, their roles reversed within seconds as she began pounding his head in.

The crowd, as if affected by the shimmer themselves roared, probably never having seen a fight this close before, especially a fight with Sevika.

Marcus seemed almost unaffected by the hits, and Sevika was looking down at him, her eyes wild as she kept hitting and hitting and hitting and…

The bell went again, signalling the end of the round.

She stood up from him, hurrying back to her side. He got up a moment after, limping over to his. You didn’t even give Marcus a second look as you searched for Sevika’s eyes, but she was standing talking to her coach, her leg bouncing on the lowest rope that lined the ring.

Her coach reached into his pocket, pulling out a vial with purple liquid inside. Her face scrunched at the sight as murmurs filled the arena. As everyone knew, Sevika was a pure blood fighter. She’d never taken anything to enhance her performance, but you could see now in her face that she was really considering it.

She looked over at you, a conflicting expression plain on her face. You knew what she was saying without a word shared between you.

You nodded.

She picked up her bottle, practically snatching the vial from her coach's hand, mixing the shimmer into the last bit of her water.

“What’s this? Sevika is taking shimmer?! People of the night, this is raring to be one for the books!” The voice narrated the scene in front of you.

She shook the bottle, the shade turning a soft purple colour. She looked at the liquid sloshing around, like she was still debating for a moment on whether she’d make that choice. She looked back at Marcus who’s eyes were still vibrant and jaw was still trembling despite how spent his body looked. She turned back, flaring her nostrils as she worked up the courage to drink it.

And she did, she drank it all.

She closed her eyes, leaning her hands against the top rope as she let the shimmer run through her system.

Marcus was already standing, his fists up by his face as he waited impatiently for the bell to go, not bothering to wait for Sevika to meet him in the middle again.

Then that thrice chiming and foreboding sound rang throughout the arena.

Marcus charged at her, pulling his right arm back, ready to sneak her from behind. Like the shimmer had perfected her quick timings, her hand shot out behind her, grabbing him by his face, an unbelievable scene, her hand easily covering the entirety of it.

His hands flailed wildly as he tried to reach her at arm's length. Her eyes peeled open, and lit up with a vibrancy you’d never seen before. She grinned easily, cockily almost.

Her body turned impossibly as she held Marcus in his place. She pulled her other arm back, then thrust it forward slamming it into his stomach, knocking him to the ground without trouble.

She walked over to him coolly, bending down as he struggled to catch a breath, evidently winded by her blow. She watched him as he spluttered and coughed up blood, the fighting pressures finally breaking him.

Through the roars of the crowd you could hear her chuckle as she peered down at him. He lurched up trying to hit her but she dodged it easily, returning his weak attempt with a swift blow to his face.

The crowd went silent as they waited for his next move. But it was in vain, as Sevika and the rest of the stadium watched him call in defeat, completely unconscious by her final blow.

It was so quiet. You never imagined a crowd like this could hold a silence this long.

“She’s done it again…” the voice said, almost emotional at the display, “SHE’S GONE AND DONE IT AGAIN!” He said even louder, moving the crowd into a belting applause.

She stood up, her eyes still glowing purple as she raised her fists in the air, circling his limp figure as she welcomed the adulations of the crowd.

You stood up, rounding the divider as you jumped onto the stage with ease, Sevika noticing you in an instant as she grabbed you, spinning you around in her arms.

You both shared in laughter, squeezing each other impossibly tight.

#sevika #arcane #sevika x reader #wlw #sevikamommy #sevika the boxer

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an-idyllic-novelist · 1 year

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100 Milestone Event - raiden taeemon with mitsuri!reader! short story 🍡

Here it is everyone, the milestone event for reaching +100 followers! This is also part two of another milestone on my yandere blog!

The link will be here, so definitely check it out first before reading this one! Special thanks to @deathmetalunicorn1 for helping me with the sections I was struggling to write. Not gonna lie, Raiden’s dialogue is a bit hard lol. So with that being said: sit back, relax and enjoy! :)

warnings: canon divergence of manga, violence, strong language.

The moment Raiden Taeemon witnessed the strength of a Hashira is a memory he would never forget.

In Valhalla, there were many activities to entertain the masses such as gambling or martial arts tournaments, but sumo matches have been providing just the right amount of spectacle and violence far longer than any known sport. Even gods had become sponsors to certain dojos, providing funds for more equipment and so forth. Raiden was content with his lifestyle, fighting against strong opponents, eating good food and followed by having some fun with a few girls depending on how much alcohol he drank that night.

Then sumo wrestlers began disappearing from the dojos, one by one. Their remains would be discovered the following morning, torn asunder and…half-eaten. The sight frightened the customers so much that they didn’t dare go outside unless they were absolutely certain that the matches would not last beyond the first rays of the sun setting across the hazy blue skies. Even the gods had begun to worry, believing there was a serial killer on the loose…if you can call withdrawing their sponsorships an expression of anxiety. The masters of the dojos even began restricting the fighters to a curfew, forbidding anyone from going out into the night lest they face expulsion.

But Raiden was tough. He had been the strongest sumo wrestler of his time. He could take care of himself. If someone wants to come after him, he’ll return the gesture wholeheartedly.

After an evening of drinking, he took his usual stroll back home when he heard someone call out to him. Confused and half inebriated, Raiden looked over his shoulder and saw a shivering, drooling, decrepit old man with a large lump on his head. At first he thought something was wrong with him…but that concern changed to alarm when the man split his body up into four younger versions of himself with fashionable robes, fangs, and possessed weapons. One of them even had wings and talons like an eagle!

One of them opened his mouth and released a loud screech with enough strength to make Raiden’s head spin and catapulted him into a building. As he stumbled to get out of the debris, the one wearing red robes thrusted his wooden staff into the ground, lightning bolts spitting from it. Raiden screamed, white-hot pain pulsing through his body.

“This is supposed to be the strongest one in this district? How lame!”

“Shut up and finish the job, Karaku! We cannot be seen or else they will come! We cannot go back to that place!”

“Come on, it’s been so long since we’ve played with our food~!”

For the first time in his life, Raiden felt fear. He did not know what these guys…this thing was, but he had to get away. He had to get away or he might die again.

“I’ll finish it. Do not worry, human, your death shall be quick and painless.”

Raiden’s eyes widened as the one dressed in blue charged towards him, wielding a halberd with an apathetic expression. Yet before the weapon could put a hole in his chest, it flew out of his bronze hands with a loud ‘crack’.

“Geez, of all the demons that had to be causing trouble in this place, it’s you guys again?!”

The sumo wrestler whipped his head towards the rooftops of the building, seeing a young woman with braided pink-greenish hair and dressed in black, [Eye Color] orbs narrowed and face pouting as she wielded….a whip? Behind her were two other individuals. A kid in a checkered haori…and a little girl with a piece of bamboo in her mouth?

He watched them leap into the air; the kid unsheathed his sword and went straight towards Red, the girl charged at the green-robed one he assumed was Karaku, and the woman targeted the blue one that was right in front of him.

Neither opponent was giving an inch in their fight, and Raiden had to admit that the kid and muzzled girl were doing remarkably well….yet it wasn’t their unusual sword style or hand-to-hand combat techniques that caught his interest. It was the woman who had torn off her opponent’s arm as soon as she flipped him over her shoulder, knocking him into the ground with a loud ‘crack’.

The blue-eyed demon opened his mouth to scream or release an attack like the yellow one, but she swung her whip across his neck, decapitating the bastard.

Wait, where is the yellow one? Hearing a loud screech, Raiden whipped his head up to the nighttime skies and saw the demon's mouth stretching. The wrestler watched in horror as sparks of electrified air were being collected into a whirling sphere. And the target of the attack was none other than the little lady.

Somehow, he’d been able to force his aching body to move from the debris and bolt towards her, pushing the lady as close to the ground as possible without crushing her, using himself as a shield to absorb most of the attack when it came at them.

The last thing he remembered were his ears feeling wet and the woman’s worried face and… she was saying something to him before he lost consciousness.

He didn’t know what it was, but he hoped it’d been a ‘thank you’. It’s not everyday he got to protect a damsel from a demon, even when she could stand on her own ground.

As Raiden slowly came too, feeling the familiar padding of his futon, he groaned deeply, unable to open his eyes. A headache throbbed painfully through his whole head, making him both dizzy and nauseous.

He couldn't remember the last time he had a hangover this bad as he was slowly able to open his eyes, wincing at the light peeking through his window. His other senses slowly came back to him as the throbbing in his head slowly dulled. Raiden shifted and instantly froze, feeling his whole body seemed to be on fire yet so heavy at the same time.

As the minutes ticked by, Raiden was slowly able to sit up, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head, but his movements were stiff, almost like he was restricted, looking down to see bandages all over his body. His mind drew a blank, not remembering getting hurt and like a switch was flipped at that word, hurt, what he could recall from the night before came rushing back to him, making him fall back against his futon as his headache returned full force.

Shit…what the hell even happened? All he remembered was having a good time and then the weird old man…

Raiden’s eyes widened. That’s right. The old man turned into four demons! And then there were those kids…and that woman. The woman with hair that looked like sakura mochi and had the strength of a bear.

Head spinning, heart pounding, his mouth stretched into a grin as the memories from last night came back in full force. He had a preference for the larger ladies, but he’s always been flexible~.

Rengoku had told you countless times that if you ever crossed paths with Hantengu in the Bifrost, never confront him alone. He nearly lost his life against the Upper Moon Demon at the Swordsman’s Village if it hadn’t been for Tanjiro, Muichiro, and Nezuko. In all honesty, he thought the demon would no longer exist once his head had been cut off. But he is still there, in the Bifrost, and he escaped through a tear in the barrier.

He tried to consume as many strong humans as possible to regain his strength, though his efforts drew in unnecessary attention and that’s how he got caught. Tanjiro was able to deliver the final blow to the main body, and everything else went well….although no one had anticipated the damage done to the sumo wrestling district.

Oh goodness, what was going to happen? You knew Tengen and Rengoku loved to go there and watch the matches, especially when Raiden Taeemon was participating, but now it’d take weeks to clean up the mess! Gah, you failed on your second official mission as the Love Hashira! One more strike, and the Master’s gonna be so mad he won’t let you be part of the Demon Slayer Corps anymore!!

You sighed heavily, trudging through the streets with a heavy heart as your crow flew high in the skies above. You had completed another shift in the Bifrost, followed by an investigation in regards to another possible demon sighting in the northern areas of Valhalla.

Although everyone had reassured you that no one was seriously injured that fateful night, it still bothered you tremendously. You had offered to donate the money made from selling honeycombs at the farmer’s market towards the reconstruction of the district, but the Master told you not to fret.

You did what you had to do, and minimized the casualties as much as possible. Rengoku has taught his apprentice very well. The compliment still made your face flush with happiness…though, to your embarrassment, not as much as when you brought that handsome fellow back to his dojo. Raiden Taeemon. You rescued Raiden Taeemon from a demon and treated him in his own room!

Oh, you were such an awful woman~!

Feeling your face redden in embarrassment, you slapped your cheeks together. Pull yourself together, [First Name]! There’s no need to reminisce about the past ‘cause it’ll make delicious food go sour in your mouth! And it’s time for lunch anyway, just think about what you’re gonna order and worry about everything else later unless there’s an urgent message from the Master!

Nodding to yourself, you quickened your pace and found a restaurant with the wisteria symbol stamped just beneath the sign. If a Demon Slayer needed a place to stay or to eat, the establishments that carried the Master’s symbol were trustworthy.

You could relax here without worrying about a demon or paying too much out of your pocket, although you secretly snuck in a hefty tip to the staff for working so hard to accommodate your…quirks. Yeah, quirks, let’s go with that!

Smiling brightly at the familiar faces of the employees, you greeted them enthusiastically and wished they had a good shift as you followed one of them towards the back of the restaurant. This place still catered to other customers, so you always reserved a room for yourself to enjoy your meal in privacy.

Being gawked at for having unusual hair or how much you ate on a daily basis brought back unpleasant memories.

You squealed joyfully at the lacquered oval-shaped table, covered with every single item on the menu plus their best-selling herbal tea! You thanked the staff member profusely for their hard work in the kitchen, promising to enjoy the meal to the fullest!

The employee - a kindly older man with four children and one grandchild - smiled serenely, saying it is the least he and his family can do for the people who saved them long ago, in life and death, from demons. If you need anything, just let him or someone else know.

Upon bowing to each other, he left, closing the door behind him. You wasted no time in giving your thanks to this lovely banquet and began eating to your hearts’ desire. But an hour later, however, a knock came at the door. It was the old man again, but he sounded…worried.

You blinked. Huh? You didn’t remember asking for thirds! You just did that ten minutes ago! Concerned, you allowed him to enter, immediately inquiring what was wrong, what could you do to help.

He swallowed. “That is….there is a man who insists on asking about the ‘cute little lady with hair like sakura mochi’. I told him I knew whom he was speaking about, but politely asked him to leave because you were not to be disturbed. But he is insistent on…sharing this room with you for lunch. What should I do, Lady Hashira?”

You frowned. It wasn’t too unusual to have some rowdy customers walk through these doors, but not to this extent. Perhaps…the person who is giving the owner such a difficult time is because the man has some information he would like to relay to the Demon Slayer Corps? It would make more sense to go directly to a Hashira than pass a message to a kakushi.

You nodded your head to the owner.

“It’s all right, let him come in. Whatever he wants to eat, please add it to my bill.”

The owner’s silver brows pinched beneath his hairline as he frowned. “As you wish, Lady Hashira.” He bowed and quickly left the room, closing the sliding paper door behind him.

Humming softly to yourself, you sat yourself back down in your seat. Some of the employees appeared from behind, quickly and quietly removing the empty plates and rushing back to the kitchens.You thanked each of them for your hard work, smiling softly as you began pouring tea into two earth-brown ceramic cups.

One for yourself, and one for your guest. In your humble opinion, there is no better beverage to have mid-meal than freshly brewed green tea.

Just as you finished pouring the tea into the second cup, the door opened again.

When you looked up to thank the owner for complying with your request, blood drained from your face and your heart somersaulted in your throat. Standing behind the quaking owner was a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in a dark blue yukata and wooden sandals. White highlights stuck out of his dark brown hair, which was tied back in a ponytail. And he was grinning.

This is Raiden. Raiden Taeemon, the man you had saved from Hantengu and patched up his wounds like the lascivious criminal you were. Oh no, did he figure out what you’d done? Wait, did he even remember that night?! His breath smelled strongly of rice wine when you carried him back to his dojo! You thought for certain that he’d been too intoxicated to realize what happened!

“Hey, there.” He purred softly.

You swallowed. “H-Hello.” You said. “I hear that you wished to speak to me. May I inquire why?” You tried to keep your voice neutral and calm so as to not show that you were nervous. Your palms began to sweat as he took a seat at the table. Raiden beamed, his smile revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

“I wanted to thank you!”

But you did not hear him. You were still under the assumption he was angry as you quickly backed away from the sumo wrestler, your forehead and hands resting firmly on the wooden floor in the position of the dogeza.

“I’m so sorry!” You blubbered. “I’m sorry you got hurt! I wasn’t strong enough to handle the demon on my own and you got hurt trying to protect me!! And there was so much damage to the b-buildings! What if you can’t have matches?! What have I done?! I’ll pay for all the damages somehow, I swear it in my honor as the Love Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps!”

“W-Wait a sec, little lady -”

“But to make it even worse, I entered your home without your permission, and I even touched your body so I could patch you up! Oh, I should have done more! What was I even thinking about being a capable Hashira when Rengoku recommended me to the Master to take up the mantle! Now all the good vibes from lunch are gone!!”

You squeaked as you were suddenly lifted up from the ground, your face being gently cradled by calloused palms and being pulled towards Raiden’s face, chapped lips being pressed against your mouth. Raiden Taeemon was kissing you.

Heat immediately flooded into your cheeks yet you did not dare move, just staring at this man in disbelief. When he pulled away, he smiled at you, tilting his head to the side. “You okay now?”

Your immediate response had been knocking him back into an adjacent wall and turning away to hide your smiling, flushed face. To think you had your first kiss with a strong, handsome man! He did surprise you with a warm laugh, standing up and brushing the dust off of his yukata.

“Sorry about that! You were rambling and that was the only thing I could think of to calm you down!”

When you informed that he was in fact the first person to kiss you like that, he looked at you, completely stunned at your confession before grinning.

“You’re pulling my leg! There ain’t no way a woman as stunning as you hasn’t been kissed before!”

But you remained silent, unable to form any more words beyond the truth. You were never a very good liar. He then surprised you when he lowered his head to the floor, profusely apologizing for putting you in such an embarrassing position.

You quickly forgave him, saying that he did not know in the first place, and in fairness, you had believed that you would not see each other again after that fateful night. You did, however, emphasize that he did have to take responsibility for his actions.

He laughed warmly, jabbing his thumb against his chest. “I’ll do just that then! I’ll marry ya, if you’re willing to be with someone like me!”

You beamed. “Better yet, how about we have lunch together while we’re here? I did say that whatever my ‘guest’ would like to have would be paid by me! And the food here is absolutely delicious! You simply must try their spicy dishes and sweets, if you have a sweet tooth!”

The rest of the afternoon had been lovely, sharing dishes and sharing stories about each other. Not wanting to repeat your parents’ mistakes, you were upfront with Raiden about being a Hashira…as well as being the eldest daughter of the ocean god Poseidon. There were going to be risks if the two of you moved forward….including the possibility that you might not come back from a mission, or even a routine patrol in the Bifrost might get awry.

But to your surprise, Raiden wanted this. He wanted you, a woman who had once been told by a former suitor that only a wild animal could love someone with odd-colored hair and a big appetite.

He did not care if you were a human or a god; what mattered to him, more than strength and beauty, was honesty and kindness.

And you could not be any happier.

Bonus Content:

The last thread of Hades’ patience snapped when his little brother demanded to have [First Name] removed from the Demon Slayer Corps in his palace, after he’d just told Poseidon that she was doing well under Ubuyashiki’s watchful eye.

When he heard about his niece's promotion, Hades was obligated to tell Poseidon the truth about her whereabouts. Obviously he was not taking it very well.

However, Hades will not tolerate being disrespected in his own domain.

The lord of the underworld glared at the tyrant of the oceans. “She may be your daughter, but she is still the Love Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps. You know damned well I cannot replace skilled soldiers at the flick of a wrist. It doesn’t work like that for this organization. I’m sorry, Poseidon…but you brought this outcome upon yourself. If [First Name] wishes to see you or talk to you, she will do so on her own terms. Do not push yourself into her life again, you’ll only make things worse.”

Hades admired his brother’s kingly qualities, he truly did…but when it came to matters about his eldest daughter, Poseidon was extremely overprotective of her. He could be…irrational.

It was a good thing he’d concealed the wedding invitation moments before Poseidon came here. The god of perfection would never allow his child to marry a human, even if he were the strongest sumo wrestler in history or treated [First Name] just as Hades treated his wife Persephone: with respect, love, and honor.

Poseidon could care less about Amphitrite. Reputation is all that mattered to him; and because he valued that so highly, the price had been paid with his daughter’s ‘disappearance’.

Too little, too late.

Taglist:

@potato-studez-hungryformore

@mallory-a-bond

@hansel-the-pierrot

@bre99-blog

@mortemorii

@myrisan-melodies

@nooneknows8976

@puffy-bangs

@onecantsimply

@nunezs-stuff

@praisethesuuun

@thatstrangesheep

@zodiacs-web

@the-dumber-scaramouche

@themoonisrising

Honorable mentions:

@deathmetalunicorn1

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #an idyllic novelist #record of ragnarok #ror x reader #snv x reader #fem reader #mitsuri!reader #snv #ror raiden #snv raiden #ror x you #snv x you #milestone event #raiden tameemon #raiden tameemon x reader

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months

Note

Can I request a Xavier Thorpe x reader where Xavier is really affectionate towards reader & Bianca is super jealous. Like they’re all in class and reader sits down next to Xavier and he pulls her chair closer to him & kisses her and plays with her hair throughout the class and Bianca gets jealous so she tries to use her powers to get Xavier to like her again but it doesn’t work because he’s so in love with reader.

Please. Ily

(Girl idk, I just be daydreaming lmao)

I decided to add my own twist to your request as I don’t like it to be too cheesy. I hope you still like it

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Textbooks in hands, you walked into Miss Thornhill’s classroom. Your eyes searched for an empty seat, the corner of your mouth lifting when seeing Xavier was sitting alone. His head was down, his gaze focussed on his sketchbook — as always.

You walked around the table to get to the empty seat. ‘’What are you working on?’’ you asked, putting your things down.

Xavier looked up for a short second to acknowledge you, then returned his attention to his drawing. ‘’Hey,’’ he greeted. ‘’Just something I saw in a dream. Getting the image on paper helps figuring if it’s linked to being psychic or a regular dream.’’

‘’And which one is this one?’’ You peaked at the sketchbook, seeing an old house with a gated fence.

He shrugged, using his finger to blend the pencil marks. ‘’I have not figured it out yet.’’

The bell rang, signaling the start of the lesson. Miss Thornhill walked in front of her desk, the heels of her red boots clicking on the tiles, instructing the class to open their textbooks to page 394.

You grabbed yours and flipped through the pages, but before you could get to the right page, you felt your chair moving as Xavier was smoothly pulling it closer to his. Sitting at the same table wasn’t close enough for his liking.

The small gesture awakened a pang of jealousy in Bianca, who was sitting at the table right next to yours. Her siren eyes were pointing daggers at you, in her heart still considering Xavier hers although they had broken up.

After class, you gave Xavier a quick kiss before parting for lunch to meet with Enid and the other girls from Ophelia Hall to talk strategy for the coming Poe cup tournament. The Black Cats were going to win this year!

‘’For the costumes, I was thinking we could—’’

Enid’s words got drowned as you saw Bianca coming up to Xavier, her neck bare. You never thought she would use her powers on him to get him back — it was twisted —, but love makes you do crazy things. You weren’t too worried, though. Xavier was safe from her persuasiveness. You had made sure of it by giving him a necklace with a special stone.

But you were very curious to see the look on Bianca’s face when she’ll realize her powers weren’t working.

Excusing yourself, you crossed the quad.

‘’It’s not going to work,’’ you told Bianca, surprising her from behind. ‘’I understand that rejection hurt, but if you have to go as low as forcing someone into love you, maybe you should check your morals.’’

‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about...’’ She gave you an innocent look. ‘’Xavier and I were just talking.’’

‘’I saw you, Bianca. You were going to hypnotize him. But, as I said, it’s not going to work.’’

The siren narrowed her eyebrows, still denying what she tried to do. ‘’Did you spike his breakfast with a love potion?’’ Her eyes flickered to Xavier, trying to turn him against you. ‘’She practices witchcraft, you know that, right?’’

‘’Love potions don’t make people fall in love. It only makes a person infatuated with another,’’ you corrected, shutting her accusation.

Bianca’s mouth curled into a smirk, not letting go. ‘’You seem to know a lot about the subject. Are you sure you haven’t used one before?’’

Having enough of the argument, Xavier tried to break it. ‘’Bianca, that’s enough!’’ he told her, his green eyes more than serious.

—

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

Wednesday taglist: @rhaenyraswife @teaganthemorningstar @oliviah-25 @spenglerslime @wetwilliam02 @yellowcupcakes @haileyismoo @wrldofsage @manofworm @supersanelyromantic @toylewestinnyc @meme-queen-1999 @rottenstyx @mxxny-lupin @idli-dosa @silenzju @sweeterheartxamerica @renaissancewhxre @jordierama @lilppsblog @harrystylesfp @katsuki420 @ravenssh1t @kenzi-woycehoski @katsukis1wife @momoewn @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @lucassinclairsgf @starrrslove @marissapearle @sshesang @scarxvodka @illf4iry @leoluvsur-pappy @wenvierismycomfort @pedrosprincess @luvvtxinityy @targaryenmoony @icarly23 @red1culous @kattybug @slytherinambitious @tommysaxes @adaydreamaway08 @lynbubble @pumkinnroses @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius @gizmodecaprio

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #netflix wednesday #wednesday imagine #wednesday #emptying my requests

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blackhair-redeyes-tournament · 5 months

Text

Bracket 1 Round 3

#red eyes #black hair #pink eyes #tumblr polls #black hair red eyes #tournament poll #black hair red eyes tournament #polls #tournament #bracket 1 #round 3 #vincent valentine #final fantasy vii #dracula #count dracula

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miyukiissofine · 1 year

Text

ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ

(Keisuke Baji x female reader) Mature Content, 18+

Tags: porn with a plot, marijuana use, mentions of alcohol consumption, oral sex (male & female receiving), smut, fluff, Baji has a big dick, breast worship, slightly shy & awkward reader (she can get it though!), Baji w/tongue piercing, pet names (mostly ‘baby’), penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, Baji is a big simp for the reader, very fluffy ending, Baji and reader are over 18

Synopsis: You recently became friends with Keisuke Baji. You're co-workers at a pet shop and UTokyo students. Now you’re finally alone with Baji for the first time at his place. Your plan is to get high and seduce him. But you're more nervous than you thought. Baji is hot - like so hot.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: originally posted as a 3 part series on my deactivated tumblr (username Bajiisofine). This is the full version in its entirety, slightly edited.

ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ

It’s the first day of winter break for UTokyo students. To celebrate, Keisuke Baji invited you over to the apartment he shares with his friends and co-workers, Kazutora and Chifuyu. A few weeks ago you began working part-time at Pet Shop Palme, which is how you met the trio.

You had quickly grown accustomed to the four of you going back to their apartment after work to unwind with a few beers or to smoke a bowl. However, today is the first time you've been completely alone with Baji at his place — his roommates are both out of town with their girlfriends.

You and Keisuke are sitting crossed-legged on his bedroom floor, leaning against the wall opposite his unmade bed. A large overflowing ashtray sits between you. His walls are covered in karate tournament flyers and motorcycle posters. A punk playlist plays at a low volume, providing background noise.

"There's like maybe one hit left."

Straightening out his legs, Baji gently taps your bare foot with his pinkie toe to get your attention. You’re trying not to stare at the skin peeking through the rips in his black jeans.

His honey-brown eyes are red and glassy from the weed. After taking his last hit from the pipe he passes it to you. Grasping it, you brush your fingers across his thumb ring. An electric spark jolts through you. You notice the bowl is mostly gray ash at this point but attempt to light it anyway.

“Ugh! That was gross!" You laugh, coughing as you exhale, dumping the remnants into the ashtray between you.

“I warned you,” he chuckles at the face you’re making. “So, whatcha wanna do tonight?" Baji leans his head back against the wall and raises his eyebrows expectantly. Turning to face him, you’re mesmerized by his ink-black hair cascading in soft waves down to his shoulders. Suddenly you feel very shy and break eye contact.

"Um, well… Emma texted me earlier. She said she was able to convince Mikey and Ken to agree to go to karaoke tonight," you giggle, looking down at your chipped nail polish. You met Emma and her best friend Hina at the beginning of the semester and became fast friends. Emma was the one who told you about the job opening at the pet store.

"Pfft," Keisuke laughs, "I would definitely pay good money to see that." He pushes the ashtray away and repositions himself. Before you can raise your head to look at him, he lays his head in your lap, his long hair spilling over your thighs.

Keisuke grins, his sharp canine teeth graze his bottom lip as he reaches up to trace his knuckles along your jawline. His smile widens when your eyes meet. “Hey, pretty,” his deep voice is barely above a whisper.

You freeze, suddenly aware that your heart is beating too loudly. So loud in fact, that he must be able to hear it.

"Baji, I have to pee!" You push yourself up off the floor, trying to hide the fact that you're trembling. His head hits the ground with a hard thud.

"Ow!” Keisuke grimaces, laughing and rubbing his head.

"I'll be right back!" Rushing to his bathroom, you lock the door and look at your reflection. "Shit!"

Your innocent workplace crush on Baji has intensified over the past three weeks you've known him. Normally getting high relaxes you — that was the plan for today: smoke with Keisuke and make your move. But for some reason, his sudden flirting made you feel self-conscious and nervous.

Turning on the faucet, you splash cold water on your face and try to calm down. Glancing in the mirror, you're grateful for your waterproof mascara. After patting your face dry and trying to salvage what you can of your makeup, you text Emma and Hina in group chat to tell them what a fool you just made of yourself. Realizing you've now been in Keisuke's bathroom for over 20 minutes you sigh and flush the toilet.

"Hey! I thought you fell in!" Baji shoots you his toothy smile from a reclined position on his bed. His wavy dark hair pools over the white pillowcases like an oil spill. His sheets are surprisingly clean.

In fact, because of your nerves, that's the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Your sheets are so clean!"

Keisuke rolls his eyes, "Thanks. I do laundry — sometimes." He laughs and extends his left arm out, making a come here motion with his hand. His silver rings catch your eye. Baji’s hands are beautiful: large and veiny with long slender fingers.

He notices you staring at his hand, “What? It's clean, stop judging me!” Keisuke feigns being offended and sticks out his tongue at you. The ball of his silver tongue ring glints in the low lighting from his bedside lamp.

You laugh and climb onto the bed next to him. But not before managing to bump your shin hard on his bed frame.

"Fuck!" You reach down instinctively and rub your shin.

"Hey, c’mere," he chuckles as he sits up to massage your leg.

"Keisuke,” you sigh. "I-I like you." You look sheepishly up into his eyes, noticing that the pupils in his amber irises have widened.

Keisuke bites his lower lip, the tips of his pointy canines peeking out. He swears no one has ever looked at him quite like the way you did just now.

Not breaking eye contact, he lays back down and pulls you towards him. “I like you too.” The sultry tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

Hesitating briefly, you kiss him. Tentatively, at first, shy with your affection. Baji pursues the kiss further, massaging your tongue with his. You can just barely feel his piercing, his tongue is gentle, sensual. Feeling bolder, you lick his upper lip with the tip of your tongue. He moans, teasingly biting your lower lip.

“I want you," Keisuke whispers as he moves away from your mouth to nip and kiss your jawline down your neck.

A delicious warmth spreads through your core as your body responds to his. Your skin tingles where he touches you. Reaching down between his legs, you caress the growing bulge straining against his jeans. Baji moans, reflexively thrusting his pelvis against your hand.

"I want you too," you’re practically purring. Lifting his black and gray striped shirt with one hand, you kiss his toned chest and stomach. Your other hand remains pressed against his cock, firmly stroking his erection.

You kiss your way down his happy trail, nibbling and licking it playfully. Glancing up at Keisuke, you see his eyes are closed, his head back against his pillow, clearly enjoying your attention. His blissful expression gives you the confidence to unzip his pants. Baji opens his eyes and quickly helps you pull down his pants and boxer briefs.

You move your head down to his cock, he’s huge and hard and so ready. His dick twitches with yearning, clear drops of precum beading down its engorged head.

"Hey," Keisuke's voice is thick with lust. He clears his throat and looks at you, reaching down to gently stroke your cheek, "you don't have to do anything you don't wanna.”

"I wanna," you murmur, wantonly gazing up into his eyes. You’re nearly drooling, you just want his fat dick in your mouth now.

"Thank god," Keisuke mumbles, throwing his head back, a moan escaping his lips as you grasp his long girthy cock.

Teasingly, you lick away the precum that has begun to drip down his shaft. You drag your tongue down to his balls and up again to just below the tip, coating his shaft with warm saliva.

You repeat this motion, making sure his cock is nice and wet; your mouth's lubrication pooling around the base of his balls. Finally, you reach the head and swirl your tongue over his tip. Baji moans and grabs the back of your head with one hand while bunching up his sheets with the other. He continues to rake his fingers through your hair as you take him as far as you can into your mouth, wrapping your lips around him. He’s too big to take entirely into your mouth so you grip the base of his cock with both hands.

Creating suction with your cheeks, you gently hum as you continue to swirl your tongue over the head of his cock and back down, running your tongue along the thick protruding vein on the underside of his shaft.

You begin bobbing your head up and down while simultaneously pumping the base with both hands dripping with your saliva. Baji thrusts his hips up, groaning as he pushes himself further into your warm wet mouth. A low guttural sound escapes his lips. He opens his eyes, “B-baby... uff... I-I’m gonna cum.”

You look up, your lips still wrapped around his thick shaft as far as they will go, and nod, signaling him to cum in your mouth. Baji moans your name as he ejaculates, you continue sucking and pumping until he’s left shuddering and jerking beneath you. After swallowing his load, you sweetly smile up at him, and gently kiss the tip of his sensitive cock.

"Damn… you’re amazing,” Keisuke gazes at you with starry-eyed affection for several seconds before sitting up and pulling you into his lap. He kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue.

“It’s your turn now, pretty baby,” Keisuke chuckles as he pushes you playfully back onto his bed.

Baji stretches to hand you a bottle of water from his bedside table. His black and gray striped t-shirt raised halfway above his toned abdomen. He smiles down at you — his amber bedroom eyes and sharp canines giving him a distinctly predatory air. Not breaking eye contact, he pulls a hair tie off his wrist and holds it between his teeth, gathering his wavy black hair in a ponytail.

“I like to tie my hair back… before I eat,” Baji winks, sticking his tongue out suggestively, the silver ball of his tongue piercing protruding forward on its bar.

You snort-laugh, nearly choking on your water, even though he’s making your heart pound — no longer from nervousness but desire. Your body tingles, yearning to feel the sensation of that tongue, his hot breath between your legs.

“Ohh — you laugh,” his tone is light, teasing. He leans over to tickle you, burying his face in the curve of your neck. “But, I know you’ll like it,” Keisuke whispers in his smooth baritone, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth.

“Lemme taste you,” Baji licks the sweet spot just beneath your ear, coaxing a moan out of you. “Hmm… pretty baby?”

“Yess, Keisuke…,” your voice hitches in your throat, a surge of heat flooding through you, culminating between your thighs. You grab at his shirt, tugging it over his head.

“You’re the one whose clothes are in the way,” Baji mumbles. Hungrily eyeing your body, he runs his silver-ringed fingers over the swell of your breasts and down your torso. Curling his fingers under the hem of your shirt, he caresses your bare skin with his knuckles as he pulls it over your head. Tossing your shirt aside, Keisuke wraps his large hands around your rib cage, lifting you further back onto his bed so your head rests on his pillows.

You hold your arms out, inviting him in. Smiling up at him, your expression somehow both innocent and full of desire. Swooning at your eagerness he bends to kiss you — deeply, wantonly, moaning into your mouth as you palm his hardening cock.

“Wait — wait, baby… let’s get you naked.” Baji stands, his already huge erection bobbing in your face as he helps you pull off your leggings. He pauses to admire you in your bra and panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he purrs. Watching you undo your bra, he groans appreciatively as your breasts bounce free. His dick twitches, a bead of precum leaking from the swollen head.

Quickly leaning back against his pillows, you open your arms and legs for him. Baji lays on top of you, caging you in. His silver pendants dangling from his neck. He grins, his canines cutely scraping against his bottom lip. Keisuke lowers his head to kiss you again, more slowly this time. He massages the ball of his piercing sensually over your tongue. His lips linger on yours, swallowing your little moans. Pulling away from your mouth, he licks and bites down your neck and collarbone before moving to your breasts.

Groaning quietly, he cups your soft flesh in his large palms, sucking and licking your nipples lasciviously. “Mmm— I’ve wanted your titties in my mouth,” Baji’s resonant voice against your sensitive nipple vibrates through your core.

“Keisuke.” You sigh, grasping at the nape of his neck, pressing his head closer to your chest.

He grins against your breasts, swirling his tongue around one of your erect nipples, rolling the tip of the other between the pads of his fingers. He’s satisfied once the peaks of both your breasts are tender and wet with his saliva.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” Keisuke murmurs as he kisses and licks his way to your stomach. He teasingly dips a fingertip into your belly button, eliciting goosebumps and a breathy sigh. He chuckles at your reaction, “You’re so cute.”

Baji slowly inches down your body, kissing and nibbling around the outline of your panties. Sharp teeth grazing the soft skin of your belly, hips, and upper thighs. He is a tease, purposefully ignoring the growing wet spot on the fabric centimeters from his lips. He chuckles at your desperation, the way you thrust your pelvis, trying to get relief from friction by rubbing against his face.

Finally, he plants a kiss on your clothed slit. You moan, wriggling your hips, hands tangling a mess in his ponytail. Keisuke chuckles again, “Okay, okay, baby… I’m gettin’ there.”

Hooking his long fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, he slides the sopping garment down your thighs. A low growl forms in his throat as a slippery strand of your arousal clings to the crotch of your panties. “Fuuck,” Baji's breath is heavy as he licks his lips, looking up at you. “Your pussy’s so wet.”

You squirm, self-conscious and horny, “Keisuk-ehh,” you whine, turning your head, burying your face in his pillow.

Completely exposed to him, Baji splays his big hands between your thighs, spreading them wider. His bronze eyes are lustful and dreamy as he admires your glistening wet lips. Mesmerized by your pussy, he traces the outline of your swollen labia with his fingertip before gathering the slick seeping out of your little hole, spreading it around your lips.

You whimper as Keisuke puts his nose practically inside of you. Inhaling the scent of your arousal, he moans about how good you smell. The sensation of his hot breath against your naked pussy makes your toes curl.

Grinning at your soft mewls, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the hood of your clitoris. You jolt, the sensation sending a rush of heat through your body as you thrust up against his lips.

Keisuke purrs, sliding the tip of his tongue between your lips, tasting you. “Mmmm.”

The vibration from his deep voice sends shivers through you, making your hips buck again.

“So squirmy,” he chuckles. Curling his arms underneath your thighs, he grips you with his biceps, holding you firmly against him so he can continue.

Baji looks up at you with pure want in his eyes. Wetting his lips, he sticks out his tongue, holding it flat against his chin. The ball of his piercing raised from its stem. Slowly, sensuously, he licks you. His wide tongue trails saliva up and down your pussy and over your clitoris. His slow pace is deliciously agonizing, you writhe beneath his strong grip on your thighs. Panting, you rake your fingers through his hair, loosening his ponytail.

Baji moves his attention to your clit, slurping and sucking it noisily. Encouraged by your moans, he slips a single finger inside you. Deftly curling it upwards, exploring your warm wet walls, searching for your special spot.

Trembling, you reach to touch his lips, putting one of your fingers inside his mouth. You start rubbing your fingertip over your swollen nub while his mouth is on you. Groaning at the sensation of your finger in his mouth, Keisuke slides a second finger into your drooling pussy, stretching you out. He’s found your sweet spot and presses it with a firm, deep pressure. An intense wave rushes through your entire body, arching your back in pleasure. Baji greedily licks your fingers, sucking on them.

“Unff…ffuu…,” you whimper, as more meaningless words spilling from your lips. Your face muffled against his pillow. You’re so close to release; your whole body tingles, toes curling. Panting, you gyrate against Keisuke’s mouth, rubbing your wet pussy on his face. He thrusts and curves his fingers inside your walls, rhythmically massaging your G-spot. His lips make sloppy wet sounds as he continues sucking your clit. Your wet walls contract, pulsating. Baji moans as your pussy flutters around his fingers.

“Keisuke!” You cry out, cumming hard against his face. He keeps his mouth over your clit and fingers firmly inside you as you ride out your high.

Still panting, you sigh contentedly, giving Baji’s head a little squeeze between your thighs. He sits up, amber eyes beaming at you, a triumphant grin on his face. His long dark hair has come out of its ponytail, wisps sticking to the sweat on his forehead. His lips, chin, and the tip of his nose glistening with your slick.

“I wanna fuck you now,” Keisuke smiles wolfishly up at you from between your thighs, his bronze eyes heavy-lidded with desire. Sitting up, he wipes away the sweat from his forehead, running his fingers through his long tangled hair. “Fuck… I need some water,” he chuckles. “Your little pussy made me thirsty.” He notices you’re still panting and grins, “I bet you're thirsty too, huh?”

“Oh my god, yes! I just didn’t want to ruin the moment by saying anything,” you laugh.

“Baby, this is a marathon, you gotta stay hydrated,” Baji winks at you as he gets up from his bed, his huge veiny hard-on bobbing in front of him. It leads him from his room to the kitchen. Sighing, you stare at the little bounce his sculpted muscular ass produces as he walks away. Your wet pussy leaks onto his sheets as you stretch your arms above your head.

Hastily, you sprint to his bathroom to pee, making it back just as he returns with a bottle of water from his fridge. He’s about to hand it to you when he has a better idea.

“Open your mouth, gorgeous,” Keisuke opens the bottle and slowly pours it into your mouth, his eyes filled with lust as he watches the stream of water spilling from your lips down your neck to your bare breasts.

Palming his neglected erection, he takes a gulp of water and bends down to kiss you, sensually passing the water from his mouth to yours. Keisuke slowly swirls his tongue, teasing yours with the ball of his piercing. The taste of your pussy is still on his lips and tongue. You moan into his mouth as he takes the tip of your tongue between his lips and gently sucks it.

Baji eagerly lays on top of you as you reach down between his toned quads to stroke his cock from base to tip. Warm precum leaks from the engorged head into your palm. The veins in his thick shaft are completely swollen, his dick feels so heavy and huge — you need both hands to stroke him properly. Groaning, his hips reflexively roll forward, thrusting his needy cock against your hands.

“Keisuk-ehh,” you purr, looking up at him with yearning eyes. Bending down to kiss you, his pendants dangle from his neck above you. Baji slips one of his large hands between your legs. His silver rings scrape against the tender skin of your thighs. He easily penetrates your drooling wet pussy with two long fingers, curling them upwards. A low groan vibrates from his Adam’s apple when he feels just how wet and ready you are for him.

“Ufff… I need to be in you,” Keisuke grunts, his usually velvety deep voice sounds gruff now, making your pussy ache. You whimper, gyrating against his fingers inside you, needing to feel the friction from his hand against your slick lips and swollen clit.

Your horny noises and thrusting pussy are too much for Baji — a hoarse growl emanates from his throat as he grabs you by your thighs, spreading your legs and pulling your hips flush beneath him. Your pelvis instinctively bucks up as he grips his thick cock in one hand, gliding it over your slippery folds. You both moan as he slaps the head against your needy clit.

“Mmm, baby… you’re so wet,” Keisuke gazes down at your glistening cunt, his sharp canines biting into his lower lip. His eyes transfixed on your shiny swollen labia, he slowly eases into your warm wet hole, groaning at the sight of your drooling little pussy taking in his lengthy cock.

Baji bends to kiss you, teasingly licking your lower lip before penetrating your mouth, massaging your tongue with his. Your whole body tingles from the sensations of his fat tongue in your mouth and fat cock in your pussy.

He moans into your mouth as the plush walls of your hot little cunt stretch to accommodate his lengthy hard dick. He sensually circles his hips, thrusting into you, his large hands firmly gripping your ass and thighs.

Keisuke fucks you hard, burying his shaft deep in your pussy, with each thrust his heavy balls bounce against your ass. He stares lustfully at your breasts bouncing as he pounds into you. Both your bodies slick with sweat, incoherent sex noises and lewd squelching sounds from your pussy fill the room, the air thick with pheromones.

Baji reaches between your legs to rub wet circles around your clitoris, then gently pinches it. “Fff…uff,” you moan, toes curling, back arching off the mattress as you writhe beneath him. He groans as you buck your hips up, grinding your swollen clit against his pelvis, your walls gripping his entire length inside you.

Keisuke leans forward to suck on your titties. He wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it, swirling his tongue around the hard tip, drooling — his eyes closed in pure ecstasy. Mewling, you grab his muscular ass with both hands, pushing him deeper into you. Baji moans as your sopping-wet pussy sucks him in.

Your walls begin to contract and flutter around him, and you whimper, burying your face in one of his pillows. Your toes curl as his cock swells even larger inside you, making your pussy throb. Your entire body tingles, waves of pleasurable heat flow through your core. “Ffuu… uhf… KEI!” You call out his name, moaning, trembling, your thighs shaking. Keisuke gazes down at you, his golden brown eyes half-closed and dreamy as he fucks you through your orgasm.

The hot pulsating sensations of your wet walls fluttering and squeezing his cock soon push Baji to his limit. There’s a warm tingling in his balls, the muscles at the base of his dick tighten and contract. Keisuke grunts, clenching his pelvic muscles, trying to hold back, but it’s no use.

It’s the way you look panting beneath him: You’re just too hot, your pussy’s too wet. Your sexy little moans… the fuckin’ needy way you called out his name as you came so hard, creaming around his cock…. FUUCK!

Baji groans, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “I’m gonna cum!” He calls out your name, you moan as you squeeze his thick cock, milking it as he thrusts into you, sloppily jerking his hips, shooting his hot cum deep in your pussy. Keisuke moans, his shoulders shuddering, the aftershocks of his orgasm sending shivers down his spine. He collapses on top of you with a little grunt.

“Fuck, baby... you wore me out,” Baji chuckles as he rolls over onto his pillow next to you.

“You’re so pretty when you cum…” he touches your mouth, tracing your lips with his index finger, “and your little noises are so sexy.” He smiles at you with soft affection in his eyes.

“You’re pretty hot, yourself — Baji-san.” You both laugh at the name he specifically told you not to call him when you first started working at the pet shop.

“C’mere, gorgeous.” Keisuke pulls you onto his sculpted chest, embracing you in a full-body hug. He lowers his chin and kisses the top of your head, “You smell so good,” he murmurs into your hair.

The silver pendants from his necklaces press against your face. You push them gently aside, laying your hand on his heart. He begins drawing tiny shapes on the back of your hand with his fingertips. Sighing, you nuzzle in closer to his chest. Baji’s skin smells warm and comforting — a faint blend of sandalwood, pot, and sex. Soft strands of his long wavy black hair tickle your face.

“Y’know, it’s kinda funny…,” Baji pauses to clear his throat. You can feel his Adam’s apple bob and vibrate as he speaks, his deep voice low and soothing. “I asked you to come over tonight ‘cos I was gonna ask you out.” He entwines his fingers with yours. “I even made sure Chifuyu and Kazutora would be gone so we could be alone.”

“Really?” You smile as you feel Baji’s heart begin to beat a little bit faster in his chest.

“But I wasn’t sure if you liked me in that way… y’know — romantically,” he mumbles, and you can practically hear the blush in his voice.

How is he so fucking cute?

“Keisuke,” you lift your head to peer up at him. And he is blushing, his chiseled cheekbones dusted pink. He momentarily looks away from you, breaking eye contact. He’s embarrassed because he blushed and you saw it.

“Kei,” you sit up and place a hand on one of his pink cheeks. “I came over because I wanted to have sex with you. Like, that was my plan from the beginning,” you tell him, thinking it will reassure him.

Baji looks into your eyes. His expression is soft and sincere, vulnerable. “I don’t want just that though…,” he pauses and self-consciously rubs the back of his neck, trying very hard not to break eye contact.

“Fuck — what I’m tryin’ to say is… I don’t wanna be,” he makes air quotes here, “‘friends with benefits’, or fuck buddies. Or any of that shit. I want more than that. I really, truly like you… a lot,” he realizes he’s still rubbing at the back of his neck and puts his hand down. He grins at you sheepishly, a wide smile that makes his brown eyes crinkle adorably shut.

“Keisuke!” You’re completely unable to think of anything even remotely coherent to say. He looks down at you expectantly. And you just stare back up at him for several long seconds, with pure adoration in your eyes. If heart eyes were real, you’d definitely have them.

Finally, you’re able to speak — sort of: “I-I like you too… really, so so much… like I can’t even begin to say h—”

“Then just kiss me already,” Keisuke chuckles, pulling you towards him.

©️poorly written by Bajiisofine Miyukiissofine, 2023. Please do not copy, translate, upload to other platforms, or claim as your own.

#tokyo revengers smut #baji smut #baji keisuke #baji keisuke smut #tokyo revengers x female reader #baji keisuke x you #keisuke baji smut #tokyo revengers x you #baji x female reader #baji x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

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bruciemilf · 1 year

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What about an AU where Talia's car breaks down conveniently close to an autoshop.

Gotham is built and divided by shady places and dark places, but this neighbourhood takes the shit cake.

Damian's been fussy the minute they got here, wooden toy sword waving dangerously from his tiny fist, aimed perfectly at three dark-haired boys arguing about directions,

One of them is named Jason. He reminds Talia of a black kitten she used to feed right under her father's nose, mischievous and sweet, " How can I be lost on my own turf?!"

Dick, from what she's seeing, likes to think of himself as the leader. She has the fond suspicion that he doesn't trust her one bit. Smart boy.

" Look, clearly, she's a very capable, independent woman who doesn't need a baby like YOU."

" I'm not a stupid baby! Tim's a stupid baby!"

Tim, who's nursing on a red robin pacifier, stomps his foot, '' I'm not a baby!"

"As adorable as this insult tournament is. Isn't this the place?"

Damian shakes in his baby carrier the second Talia steps foot in the autoshop. It smells faintly of oil and green tea and fresh, bitter coffee.

" B is gonna fix you right up. And then you can go," Dick is trying to wrestle Jason off, who's not in the least bit happy about being called a baby for the 10th time, " Just, -- OW, biting is againts the code! Tim, go get dad."

Damian and Tim, who have been sticking their tongues at eachother for the past minute, both roll their eyes at the order.

Their father looks nothing like she expected.

But then again, she never dared to hope she'd see him again.

Time changed, but he didn't. Those big brown eyes still put an uncomfortable knot of affection in her stomach, glowing softly with painful tenderness under long eyelashes.

Talia physically tastes the feeling of safety shivering down her back in warm chills. His name is on her lips like a silent prayer, a contrast to Damian screeching and wiggling and trying to break free from her arms to his.

Jason climbs on Bruce, who hasn't blinked once in the time he studied her with a frown, held onto his father's neck protectively. Bruce hugs back, pressing a kiss to the boy's temple. Damian hisses with jealousy,

" Bruce can't speak, but don't you think you can scam him because of it! Even pretty ladies have to pay."

Talia doesn't know what pain she prefers,

That either her beloved remembers her and hasn't searched for her,

Or the fact that he doesn't.

Either way. Explanations are owed.

#AAA THEM #in case it wasnt clear they had a one night stand once upon a time and poof baby #bruce wayne #dc #talia al ghul #damian wayne #baby damian wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #brutalia #text #text post #alternative universe #writing

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blue--ingenue · 10 months

Text

"Evasive Maneuvers" - Part 2

Read next part ->

Summary: You've been in love with Sebastian since the moment you knocked him on his arse on your first day. Entering your sixth year, you finally begin working up the courage to confess your feelings when he suddenly becomes the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in decades - and subsequently becomes the school's most eligible bachelor.

Author's Notes: i am so grateful for the response this fic has gotten so far :') to all my lovely readers, thank you for indulging in my brainrot <3 and as a friendly reminder, my requests are open! i reblogged a prompt list to help, but you can absolutely come up with your own and send em on in!

Sidenote: if you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Headmaster Black clears his throat from behind the podium and addresses the mass of students before him. After the sorting ceremony has been completed all four tables have gained a new gaggle of wide-eyed first years getting to know their housemates.

“Before we officially begin the feast, I have a few words to say,” he announced. He begrudgingly gestured for Madam Kogawa to stand. The quidditch instructor smiled smugly and threw you a conspiratorial nod. You dip your head in acknowledgement and Sebastian shoots you a quizzical look.

“As of this year quidditch has officially been reinstated,” the headmaster declares. He responds to the ensuing uproar with a grimace you can only describe as disgusted before ordering the celebratory shouts to cease.

“In light of the previous year’s - excitements - Hogwarts has been chosen to compete in the annual quidditch tournament held for all wizarding schools in Europe. Schools will compete head-to-head until only one champion team remains. Madam Kogawa will now provide information to all those who wish to try out for their house teams.”

Headmaster Black takes his seat at the center of the faculty table and drinks deeply from his wine goblet. Madam Kogawa replaces him at the podium and explains how tryouts would be held the very next day. There is collective confusion over tryouts never being held so early in the year, which she dispells by explaining that each school must submit their roster at the end of the month so that all participating schools could be put on the roster. From the front of the Slytherin table Imelda is watching with rapt attention. There’s not a doubt in your mind that she’s already calculating how much practice she can get in before the next day’s tryouts. Kogawa continues to explain that she’ll be evaluating the house teams at a series of scrimmages to determine the players that will represent Hogwarts.

“Ah, no pressure then,” you hear a voice joke across from you. Garreth Weasley’s smile broadens as you meet his eyes. You blink twice, making sure you’re seeing things correctly. It seems Sebastian wasn’t the only one of your friends who had grown over the summer. His copper-red hair is the same fiery shade it’s always been, but it seems to have grown longer and just unruly enough to be endearing. It frames his defined jaw and you notice that his shoulders and chest have filled out as well.

You offer him a smile in kind and whisper, “Are you trying out for the team?”

He brings a hand to his mouth as though to keep prying ears from listening: “Indeed I am. It seems that my clumsiness on a broom is just what our team needs to lead them to victory.”

You give a rather unladylike snort into your pumpkin juice and quickly bring a napkin to your face. You glance around to see if anyone had seen your mishap, but the room’s attention remains on Madam Kogawa. You glance back at Garreth, intending to scold him for a spill that was entirely your fault, and are met with an expression you’ve never seen him sport before. He looks at you almost…fondly. Perhaps you’re imagining things, but you think you can see a blush highlighting the freckles splashed across his cheekbones. You clear your throat awkwardly, stomach fluttering at his look of affection, before turning your attention back to the front of the hall. You don’t notice a certain brunette staring daggers into the back of a certain red-haired Gryffindor.

You yawn and stretch groggily. You had trained your owl, Astra, to wake you at the crack of dawn. Being the first day of classes you knew the school would be abuzz with excitement even without quidditch trials being held today. Being careful not to wake Natty or your other roommates, you cast a soft Lumos and dress quietly. Within minutes you’ve stuffed your knapsack with parchment, quills, and inkpot, and all the textbooks you’ll need for the day. Just before leaving you grab your weathered copy of Pride and Prejudice and slip it into your charmed bag. It was Anne who had shown you the clever expansion charm that allowed you to carry a day’s worth of supplies. You had spent the first few weeks of the summer carting books to and from Feldcroft and the region’s closest libraries. Things had been tense between Sebastian and his uncle in the days leading up to Anne being cured, but once the curse had lifted the worst of the tension seemed to go with it. Solomon still held grudges about Sebastian’s use of dark magic, and Sebastian continued to feel that Solomon had given up on Anne. Things were far from perfect, but they were getting better. Once Ominis had accepted the invitation to stay at the cottage for the summer the four of you spent most of your days traveling up and down the coast. It was the first time in months, possibly years, that you had felt so carefree.

After all that you had faced - Ranrok, Anne’s curse, the rift that had formed between Ominis and Sebastian over his use of dark magic - you’d all spent the first few weeks waiting for the other shoe to drop. As the summer days lengthened and you spent countless hours relaxing by the shore, your group of friends eased into a sense of peace. You left after a few weeks to head to London. After Fig’s passing you learned that he’d left everything to you. He had a small flat in London that contained his personal effects, books, and all the ancient magic research he and Miriam possessed. That’s where you spent the rest of your summer. Between the reading, sorting, and emotional weight the flat carried you hadn’t had time to return to Feldcroft before the start of term.

You wandered around the castle for a bit, stopping to chat with your favorite portraits, sneaking into the kitchens for some early morning biscuits, and sharing your leftovers with the many cats you encountered in the halls. You eventually made your way to the quidditch pitch just as the house captains began calling names for tryouts. A large group of students, sorted into four lines, was waiting at the entrance. They were dressed in various states of gear; some wore full sets of polished leather pads, while others sported nothing more than a helmet. Your gaze landed on Garreth, his bright hair visible as it peaked out from beneath his cap. You were about to make your way to him when a familiar voice caught your attention. Sebastian stood at the front of the line of Slytherin students. He was chatting with another boy in your year who looked extremely nervous about getting on a broom. You strode over to him, a force between gravity and magic closing the distance until you stopped just short of him.

“I didn’t know you played quidditch,” you interrupted. He snapped his attention to you and broke out into a roguish grin.

“You of all people should know by now that I’m full of surprises,” he said with a wink. You felt yourself blush and decided to blame it on the cold morning air if he pointed it out. His play-flirting had become incessant over the past few months. At first you thought it was genuine, but as the months dragged on and he still hadn’t shown any intention of courting you, you decided not to let your hopes up. But that didn’t stop you from indulging in a bit of flirting of your own. You meant every word, but he didn’t need to know that. You knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

“Be careful not to fall off your broom,” you say as you wipe a smudge of dirt from his cheek. “I’d hate to see anything happen to such a pretty face.” You finish the last line simpering and batting your eyelashes, exaggerating everything for comedic effect. It takes you a moment to realize that Sebastian isn’t laughing. He’s tensed up and a pretty blush is accentuating the freckles dotting his cheeks. Confused by his sudden change in demeanor, you place a concerned hand on his arm. “Seb?”

He seems to snap out of it then and adjusts his robes. He forces out a laugh, voice slightly trembling. “I guess I’d better be careful then,” he says quietly. Before you can do more than raise an eyebrow in confusion, he’s called to enter the pitch for his tryout. You make the climb up to the spectators’ seating to watch, but by the time you make it up the many flights of stairs they’ve already moved on to the next candidate. You’re disappointed that you didn’t get to see Sebastian’s tryout, but you decide to stay for Garreth’s. You slip Pride and Prejudice out of your knapsack and flip to the scene where Elizabeth overhears Darcy disgracing her name to Bingley.

When Garreth flies up to the center of the pitch, you shut your book and watch. He’s fast, weaving between the enchanted midair targets at breakneck speed. After he’s been evaluated for the four positions, he circles around the pitch, stopping just in front of you to give an exaggerated bow reminiscent of a knight before his princess. You laugh and place your hands over your heart, playing along. Satisfied, he returns to the grass and dismounts. You gather the rest of your things and head down to greet him and Sebastian.

According to Madam Kogawa the roster of all four teams would be finalized and displayed before the start of classes. Glancing at your watch you realize that you have just a few minutes to interrogate Sebastian about his tryout before you learn if he made the team. You easily spot him lounging, eyes closed, against one of the boulders scattered around the grass, his robe balled up and placed behind his head like a makeshift pillow. You stop just a foot away from him and note how peaceful he looks. His dark lashes fan across his cheeks, chest gently rising and falling with each breath. The wind blows a single stray curl into his face and your arm twitches as you resist the urge to sweep it back to the rest of his locks. Even with his eyes closed he seems to sense your presence and he blinks, gazing up at you blearily.

He says your name, voice still hoarse with sleep, and you tamp down the warmth that spreads from your chest at his tone. “They’re posting the results in a few minutes,” you offer.

“Good,” he grimaces as he rubs a hand behind his neck. “I was starting to get a bit too comfortable. Give me a hand?” he asks, reaching up to you.

You don’t see why he can’t get up himself, but you oblige. You have enough time to register how coarse and warm his hand is before you’re being pulled down and into the grass. You feel the air leave you in a soft huff as you land, but he catches your head in his lap before it can bump against the earth.

You’re winded and breathless and it has nothing to do with your fall and everything to do with the boy cradling your head as though you’re the most precious thing in the world. You feel torn between savoring the moment and pushing down any thoughts of him returning your affections. You can’t afford to get your hopes up. But, god, he smells like parchment and woodsmoke and the scones he always sneaks from the kitchens and you want. You want what you can never have, and if someone were to cast crucio right into your heart at this moment, you’re sure you wouldn’t feel a damn thing. You freeze in place, and affectionately huff out, “You’re so childish, Seb.”

He laughs, and the movement causes you to shift closer to his chest. “And yet, you always fall for it.” And you do. God help you, you do. A sudden commotion snaps both of your gazes to the pitch entrance.

“They’ve posted the rosters!” someone exclaims. Something unreadable passes behind his eyes as he holds your gaze, and then you’re both pushing through the crowd to see the results.

“Slytherin…Beater…yes!” he crows. You immediately turn to congratulate him, but Imelda beats you to it.

“He hit every bludger we threw at him in record time. Knew he was a Beater in the first minute,” she beams. You look back at Sebastian. So that’s why his tryout had been so short.

He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks a brow at you. “I expect to see you in Slytherin green at my first match,” he says smugly. You roll your eyes without an ounce of malice. “We’ll see,” you shoot back. Another round of cheers sounds at your back and you see Garreth pushing through the crowd toward you.

“With how you flew, there’s no way you didn’t make the team,” you say in place of greeting. He grins. “You’re looking at the newest Gryffindor Beater,” he says proudly.

“Congratulations!” you exclaim. He bows his head, as modest as ever despite his spectacular performance. He takes your hand and exaggeratedly places a hand over his heart.

“I vow to lead our House to victory in your name, my lady,” he decrees. You laugh at his antics, but Sebastian’s voice cuts low.

“I suppose I’ll see you on the pitch, Weasley,” his voice dangerously close to a growl. You wonder what transpired in the last thirty seconds to shift his mood to drastically. Garreth places a chaste kiss to the back of your hand before releasing it. You snap your attention back to Sebastian, and he’s staring daggers into your fellow Gryffindor. Garreth laughs good-naturedly, seemingly unaware of the tension. “Nothing wrong with a bit of friendly competition, Sallow.”

#sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #angst #smut #pining #hurt/comfort #fic #fanfiction

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delcakoo · 2 years

Text

captain ‘puff | n.rk

✶ PAIRING ! slytherin!niki x hufflepuff!fem!reader

✶ GENRE ! bantering and fluff (?)

✶ WC ! 2.2k

✶ WARNINGS ! none just niki being a cocky mf and yn being a badass

✶ SUMMARY ! you agree to answer a troublemaking slytherin’s questions only if he can block your shots in a quidditch 1v1, too bad he didn’t ask if you were hufflepuff’s team captain..

a/n: niki fr wore a slytherin outfit in the middle of me writing this. the scream i let out.. btw you don’t need to know HP to read this, you’ll catch on quick!

quidditch was easy! from the sidelines, the wizard sport seemed simple enough. every player had their own designated role to follow, and a position to be in. what was so hard about throwing a giant red ball into a hoop, or smoking people in the heads with bowling balls?

you quickly stopped thinking those things during your first game on the hufflepuff team, when you were so focused on watching the quaffle, that you didn’t notice the bludger being thrown right at your shoulder, immediately knocking you off your broom and back onto the bench.

that day, you learned the key to quidditch was multitasking.

you have a quaffle and your fellow chasers to look out for, but also the beaters looking for the perfect moment to strike you out of the air. wait, the enemy chasers are suddenly right in front of you! oh and there’s the seekers coming straight at you because it seems you’re in the way of the golden snitch and suddenly the quaffle in your hand is stolen and your teammate is yelling at you to watch out because a bludger is skyrocketing right at your—

get it now?

even with all these intimidating factors in mind, you’re never one to turn down a challenge. if you aren’t good at something, that wouldn’t be the case for very long due — hours of practice every single day brought one thing to another, and you found yourself — once a benchwarmer — now proudly the captain of the hufflepuff team, only a couple months later.

you could label yourself as an overachiever.

hufflepuff hasn’t had a female captain in decades, and it only made you feel prouder of your new leading title. while the other houses seemed to still doubt your house’s quidditch abilities, you had full confidence that with you as the new captain, your team would destroy all of them in the upcoming tournament this year. hufflepuffs were known for having a propensity for hard work, and a strong sense of justice, after all.

the quidditch arena looked ethereal. the sun reflected off the giant, golden hoops perfectly, and the usually unkept grass was now neatly trimmed and blooming. holding your broom tightly, you breath in the fresh air while using a free hand to pull your quaffle out of your bag. thank merlin classes had at last finished for the day, giving you the chance to use the remaining time for practise.

you swiftly hop onto your broom, zooming off towards the shining rings. you imagine the keeper in front of you, which way should you juke? how should you position your broom? it was a thrilling experience, even when alone.

you fake a throw to the left hoop, angling your broom along with you to seem more believable, before suddenly spinning completely and aiming for the right hoop.

you’d been working out lately, especially your arms. being able to watch the quaffle slam through the golden ring at full force was like a reward for all the muscle building. you grin, diving under to grab your ball.

that was, until you look down and see a boy with fluffy black hair catch your quaffle, smirking over at you.

he’s handsome, you recognise. he has a cute mole under his left eye like many others scattered across his features, and his plump, pink lips were being moistened by his tongue as he inspected you. his ears are pierced with small, silver hoops, and his green tie was nearly falli–

green tie. your eyebrows furrow, lips turning down at the ends as you take another closer look at him.

ah, nishimura riki. this boy was known for constantly getting into trouble and causing havoc throughout the castle with his friends, ever the prankster. though, you also recall him being one of, if not slytherin’s best keeper.

“get your hands off my ball, snake,” you call out, flying down to match his level.

his smirk grows as he eyes you, lazily throwing the quaffle over to you while resting against his broom. “that wasn’t too bad, princess.”

you scoff at the nickname, catching it with one hand and securely tucking it under your arm. “why were you watching me practise?”

niki shrugs, “i came here to practise too,” he eyes your chest, raising a brow at your missing tie. you ignore him, flying over to the other side of the arena to continue your drills.

like an annoying mosquito, he follows close behind. “i’ve never seen you before, what house are you? clearly not slytherin.”

contrary to belief, it was actually great to know you were once so invisible the other team didn’t even remember you. this would only make it more fun to claim victory against them this season as the new captain.

“nice catch, sherlock. i’m trying to practise, if you don’t mind.” you deadpan, holding your quaffle and preparing another throw. you had no interest in talking to your opponents on the court, especially not a troublemaking slytherin boy.

on the other hand, niki is utterly fascinated by you. normally, the girls fell to his feet at just a smirk or a simple wave. but here you, whoever you were, completely ignoring his existence.

it only motivated him to keep bothering you.

he watches as you throw once again, whipping the quaffle impressively fast into the middle ring. “it’s a shame you aren’t slytherin, we need a good new chaser. you must be gryffindor to be this decent, then.” you only roll your eyes at his rude, false assumption.

he continues to trail behind you as you dive down to grab your ball. “i have a suggestion.” you huff at his determination, flying back up before the hoops once again. you make eye contact as he chases after you, and you couldn’t deny the fact that this boy was stupidly appealing to the eye.

you do your best to ignore this fact by directing your attention back to your quaffle. “i’m a keeper, so how about we practise together? but everytime i block one of your shots, you have to answer one of my questions.”

you sigh at that, throwing your quaffle into the air before catching it again. this could be a good opportunity to learn his technique for the real games. “and when i score?”

he grins cutely, “well, what do you want, princess?”

again with that damn nickname. you huff. “stop calling me that. and i suppose the same thing as you.”

the slytherin immediately grows his damn smirk again at your words, cockily raising a brow. “you wanna get to know me huh? am i that handsome?”

you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief at his confidence. “if that helps you sleep at night, sure.” you nod over to the hoops. “i’m waiting.”

niki quickly flies over to the three goals, cracking his knuckles. he didn’t know why, but he was feeling very competitive. he wanted to impress you, and he definitely wanted to win those answers. “give it your best shot.”

“oh i will, nishimura.” you reply, before taking off towards him as fast as you could.

his eyes narrow in concentration, watching you closely as you fly to the far right. he follows you to block the right hoop, when you suddenly loop upside down to the left, a move you’d been working on the past few days.

however, you weren’t too surprised when niki caught up to you just as fast, he was titled the best keeper of slytherin for a reason. “you’re not as stupid as i was hoping.” you comment, shooting back towards the right ring.

niki follows you silently, and while you think he’s distracted heading over to the right hoop, you shoot over your shoulder, right into the middle one. it was centimetres from going in, until a gloved hand shoots up and blocks it.

your eyes widen in genuine surprise, watching niki scoop up the quaffle before it touches the ground. he flies back up to you, smirking proudly. “too slow princess, could see you lifting your arm seconds before you shot. gotta work on that throwing speed.”

you growl in annoyance, you couldn’t lose to this asshole. “that was just my warmup, what’s your question?”

niki already had this one planned, “what house are you?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. he was ready to hear gryffindor, or perhaps ravenclaw. but then again, he’s never been so interested in a girl from the nerd house before.

“hufflepuff.” you answer simply.

his eyes go wide in horror, looking at you as if you’d just grown another head. “really?”

you scoff. “it’s despicable how much you underestimate us. you really thought i was gryffindor ‘cause.. what, i’m good at quidditch?”

he shrugs, throwing your quaffle back to you. “everyone knows hufflepuff has been lacking in the quidditch department, just the facts.”

“we’ll see about that next season.” you murmur, gripping the ball tighter before taking off again.

niki seems more laid back than the first time, you recognise in his body language, as if he was confident he could win every round all because of one victory.

small, small minded, you think. just like before, you remind yourself that you’re never one to turn down a challenge, and that a loss was simply a learning experience.

perhaps it was time to bring out some of your more reserved plays that you usually saved for games.

you dash towards him once again, deciding to head for the left ring. he follows you, closely calculating your brooms movements. with no notice, you suddenly fly upwards, leaving a whoosh of confused air behind for your enemy.

niki only grunts at your unsuspected direction change, quickly craning his head up to find you already throwing your quaffle upside down on your broom, right into the middle hoop.

“the fuck was that?!” he calls out, stuck in his spot as he watches you cackle, diving down to collect the ball once again.

“what? you think the only directions i can go are left and right?” you smirk, spinning the quaffle on your finger innocently.

he scowls, “upside down? seriously? there’s no way you’re a newbie, or a hufflepuff!”

you shrug, still giggling at his dumbstruck expression. “now tell me,” you ponder for a moment. while niki was using this little deal to learn about you, you were more interested in something else. “what are the full names of all the new players on your team this year?”

his eyes widen, jaw tightening in frustration, “you know you aren’t allowed to know that until the rosters drop.”

you raise an eyebrow, smirking evilly, “oh really? our little bet says otherwise.” you watch as the grip on his broom tightens, fingers turning white. “are you being a pussy, nishimura? gonna drop out?” you pout in fake sorrow.

he snaps at that, beginning to list a total of six people, eyes staring at you with fire the whole time.

satisfied with your new information, you grin at him. “thanks, wanna stop playing?”

he grits his teeth, determinedly getting back in front of the rings. “you wish.”

two rounds later, niki has found out your name after barely blocking your shot with the tip of his finger. he swears he’s heard it somewhere, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

meanwhile you found out the positions of all the new slytherin players after scoring an amazing goal on the left hoop. you weren’t sure why he didn’t take your strategy and begin asking about the hufflepuff team, but you weren’t complaining.

“next period will be starting soon.” you say, passing the quaffle between your hands. “last round.”

he cracks a grin, “ready when you are, princess.”

little did he know, you had a new plan.

as you take off towards the slytherin boy, instead of juking to a different direction, you continue going straight ahead. niki watches you fly at him with full speed, gulping, “uh, what are you doing?”

as you two are about to collide, you come to a sudden halt. your faces are now inches apart, and you smirk at the nervous, stuttered breath that leaves his parted lips.

you balance on your broom, raising your free hand to cup his jaw, slowly moving forward until your lips are pressed to his. he doesn’t kiss you back for a few seconds, trying to process what was happening until he finally reaches up to your neck, pulling you closer.

too easy.

you open an eye, unravelling the quaffle from your other hand, gently tossing it into the glimmering hoop he’s completely forgotten about before pulling away from the kiss. niki just stares at you in utter shock, rubbing his lips together until the sound of the quaffle hitting the ground snaps him out of his trance.

he turns to see if what he heard was correct, snapping his head back to you.

“i win,” you cockily announce, just as the class bell rings behind you in the castle. “you owe me an answer.” you turn around, beginning to fly off before looking back at him once more. “oh and, get my quaffle for me, will you, nishimura?

niki hates losing. but losing because of a damn kiss was much, much worse. he furiously flies down to grab your ball, jaw dropping in absolute horror when he takes a closer look at the writing spread across it.

“PROPERTY OF L/N Y/N, HUFFLEPUFFS CAPTAIN. RETURN IF FOUND.”

if you enjoyed, reblogging n’ feedback is always appreciated and motivating for me !

taglist: @duolingofanaccount

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mambalae-s · 10 months

Text

wc: 7.8k words

cw: milf! reader; reader is described as a plus sized black woman; masturbation (m); public masturbation (m); no penetrative sex; fantasizing — throat fucking; one (1) mention of a daddy kink; one sided sexual tension; wakatoshi is a simp; he’s down bad; let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

notes from author: so, i’d wound myself up for an entire month working on this and i still had so much i wanted to write for it despite it already being nearly 8,000 words long…! i’ll certainly try my best to make a second part for this, one i’ll want to write from our reader’s experience too! this, truthfully, wasn’t the first idea for my milf reader idea, but i think it’s so much better, and i’m happy with the plot i settled with! i hope that, at least even a little bit, it’ll be satisfying for you to read, too!

it’s amidst a blistering summer’s day when you move into the house next to his.

there’s blood pumping beneath ushijima wakatoshi’s skin and boiling beneath each heavy breath that wafts from his swollen lips. his feet pound against the paved roads as he jogs at a steady pace, and he feels his fibers tinge with a static as they blaze beneath the sweltering noon’s heat, a familiar ache ebbing deep within his muscles and crawling through his veins. the sweat clinging to his brow burns like a toxin that pours out through every cell, his heart beating with the drums that pound through his airpods and teach him a dance he’d learned many times before. iwaizumi had told him once that running could be as addictive as any drug, and here, beneath clear blue skies and through heavy draws of air, wakatoshi considers that maybe he was right.

he takes a deep breath as he mounds the slight hill that leads to his house, and abruptly, his pace halts, chest heaving still as his eyes take to the moving truck parked out in front of the house next to his; a house that had, for a while, remained empty, certainly gathering dust and stale air after the elderly couple had moved away nearly a month long past. it had been easy for him to forget all about the vacant space, what with him dedicating his days to training and months of traveling for practice and tournaments, and it seems that, within that time, someone’s finally purchased it and were moving in today.

he’d been gone long enough for the hard working men to have finished their work, wakatoshi muses, as he watches them pack away their trollies and begin making to either door of their truck. though, as he stands there, he feels puzzled, confused and seeking reason to something he can’t find. there’s nothing spectacular about seeing these two men readying to go about their day, nothing that should keep wakatoshi’s feet planted and his laboured breaths stilling beneath the wind, yet he finds himself waiting, lulled into a curiosity that he can’t explain as he watches the break lights glow red and listens to the engine roaring to life.

and then, he sees you.

you, who wears a gorgeous sundress, deep purple fabric woven like a tapestry of flowers that blossom over a body of voluptuous curves. he finds himself enraptured by your brown skin that shines beneath the scorching sun like smoky quartz, by the sweat that lines your brow as he likens the glistening sight of it to beautiful jewels that shine around your smile and set you alight with the luster of ten thousand diamonds. the strands of your black hair, they sheen on the painting of the midnight sky; dark and elegantly falling around your round face and pouring like a river of obsidian and black tourmaline across your busty chest.

“thank you so much once again,” your voice comes through with fluency in his mother tongue, the japanese you speak perhaps a little regional… osaka, he considers, or kyoto? your voice sings on the breathlessness of intense labour, and wakatoshi deludes himself into thinking that the exhaustion on your sultry voice mirrors the intensely beating heart that stirs in his chest with a restlessness that he doesn’t attribute to his run. “seriously, you two… i can’t tell you how much i appreciate coming all this way!”

the older men you speak to are friendly in their departure, cheering with bright smiles that resemble yours in their warmth and openness as they drive down the deep slope, passing him by the side and far from his mind as he loses his focus on you. suddenly, the fog that clouds his mind doesn’t come from a sweltering summer’s day, but instead from the picture of you, hot and bothered and eyes squeezed shut as you try to wave cool air over your wet skin. the daze that locks around his tongue is the one of your sheen-covered lips as they part and let pass the heavy breaths that sit on your chest, of the rise and fall of your large breasts and the bit of tummy that he can see atop your curves. that daze that consumes wakatoshi, he tells it to lust — a venom that crawls through his bloodstream and tinges his tongue with desire unchecked, so that he becomes consumed by you and the deceptively innocent visage that burns itself into his skin. and suddenly, wakatoshi feels too damn hot, his heart beats so hard he fears it’ll leap right from his throat, and his pants are too damn tight.

oh. fuck… how embarrassing could it be to get a hard on in front of your new neighbour? he didn’t think he’d ever have to ponder such a specific scenario, and he certainly isn’t happy to have a taste of it first hand. even worse, what is he supposed to do when the very same neighbour turns her eyes to him and catches him staring like some demented creep? wakatoshi’s face burns with a heat that far precedes the blazing sun and he wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole as his mouth starts to taste of sand and parchment paper. really, he shames himself, how appallingly embarrassing!

just like a guilty child, he averts his eyes as his blood boils across his neck. his feet act on their own, guided by the desire to disappear as quickly as he can with hurried steps and trembling hands that are more than eager to open his front door and seal him behind their sanctuary, and he feels even more guilt for awkwardly avoiding the kind yet confused smile you’d sent his way as you watched the large man scurry up his front steps. the protruding bulge that pokes out from his trousers is so painfully obvious, almost aching behind its confines as he prays that you hadn’t had enough time to notice it. and even then, behind his barrier of safety, he’s left with a problem — a very big one that powders his nose red and takes his breath on laboured climbs.

huffing, wakatoshi trudges to the kitchen, desperately searching his refrigerator for the coldest bottle of water he can find and starts chugging right away. arctic drops spill between his lips and down his throat, though the chill does nothing to dissipate the heat coursing beneath his skin and inside his pants. he doesn’t intend to slam the now half empty bottle down on his counter the way he does, but he loses control and water spills over, and his olive eyes only glare at the puddle that drips over on his marbled floor with something of disdain and increasing frustration.

for all that was holy, he can’t stop thinking of you. even now, with cold water sticking to his skin and poured over his bare feet, wakatoshi cannot get this image of you out of his mind and is rendered powerless to the aching boner that refuses to go away. within just one moment, you’ve seeped into his mind like a parasite that morphs and festers on sin and fornication, plaguing him with your large breasts and plump thighs that sheened with sweat and poured out from beneath your sundress. it’s a hard battle he faces with himself, feeling morally disgusted by the thoughts he finds himself with, and all about a stranger, no less. there’s no way he could be acting so depraved, right? is he a man so starved that the mere sight of an admittedly attractive woman could send him reeling like a damn teenage boy?

once more, wakatoshi heaves a heavy sigh, slouching for a moment with hands clenching the edge of his black stone counter before he rises to his full height. it’ll do him good to at least clean up this spill, and perhaps, he thinks, he aught to keep himself busy — surely then, he’ll forget all about you, and this glaring problem beneath his trousers will forget you too.

thankfully, it’s easier than he’d had hoped to fill the hours of his day. after taking care of his spill, wakatoshi takes to his home gym and continues working out till the late evening, when he showers and prepares himself to settle in with a cup of white wine and a book that he’d bought himself a while back, though only just recently had the time to begin. it’s only so rare for him to be able to enjoy slow days like this between training and volleyball tournaments, and he finds himself at peace with this lull in his schedule. finally, he feels relaxed and at ease, and his stressful situation from the afternoon earlier is far from his mind, until there’s a knock at his front door, and his heart lurches in his chest.

apprehensive, he turns his jade coloured eyes to the smoky glass panels by his entrance, and he feels his tongue turn heavy when he sees you waiting. for a moment, he hopes that you’ll give up if he doesn’t answer, though he immediately feels a bit guilty for thinking that. you’re only wanting to greet your new neighbour and make a good first impression, he considers, and it certainly isn’t any fault of yours the situation he’d found himself in earlier that day. you’re entirely blameless, and it’s really him who apparently needs to mature and grow a bit more than he’d thought. taking a long sip from his glass of chardonnay, wakatoshi builds himself on liquid courage and meets you by his doorway — though there’s no amount of wine that could’ve possibly prepared him for the sight that greets him once he opens the door.

you’re here, but you hadn’t come alone. hiding behind each leg are a young boy and girl who look about the same age and share striking resemblance to your own soft features. heads topped by black, wavy curls, with her tied in pigtails and his cut to his shoulders, there’s curiosity in their dark brown eyes as they appraise him, and he feels almost as if they’re judging him with something that he can’t identify. and you, you smile sweetly at him, your lips painted with a clear gloss that shines golden beneath the lights of his entryway’s chandelier.

“i’m sorry for disturbing you so late in the night, mister,” you offer your apology, and wakatoshi can hear more clearly the distinction in your accent that he’d only briefly heard before. now, as he listens attentively, unconsciously taking in the sultriness of your voice as your words flow from your two-toned lips, he’s certain that it really is a kansai dialect. “i’d just wanted to introduce ourselves since we’d just moved into the neighbourhood.” you lift your hands, that he now notices are not empty, to present a beautifully packaged basket with a little pink bow tying it closed. “and we also brought you these as a gift — a thank you gift, kind of! for having us here with you!”

wakatoshi accepts the gift basket from your hands, trying his best not to focus on the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and beam brightly up at him. standing so close, he’s able to notice new things about you that he wishes he didn’t feel so curious about; like the way you style yourself elegantly, your straight black hair parted to the side, curling the smaller hairs surrounding your forehead so that they lay neatly and perfectly brushed to frame your round face, or the fact that you stand several inches shorter than him, perhaps only barely reaching his chest. he wishes he doesn’t take in the clothes you wear and how they fit your beautiful figure, how your white cardigan hangs elegantly over a beige tank top and khaki coloured pants that accentuate your mature body. he tries, not to notice these many things about you, and so hopelessly fails, as he clears his throat and tries to offer you a polite smile that he hopes doesn’t come off as a grimace.

“thank you for being so thoughtful,” he says, and your smile widens, your eyes creasing around your expression as you respectfully bow.

“it’s my pleasure! i really should be thanking you for welcoming us this late!” theres a timidness to your grin as you lift yourself to full standing once more and you bashfully laugh. “it took us a little longer than we thought to prepare all our gift baskets — oh, right!” your eyes widen on a realization, “my name’s (l/n) (f/n), and these two here,” gesturing to the two children behind you, you bend down a bit to rest a hand on either of their backs. “this here is asahi, and this is makoto.”

the two young children, with your encouragement, bow their heads in greeting to him, with the boy — asahi — quickly returning to hide behind your leg, while makoto continues to stare at him, now with her curiosity unbridled and what looks like an eagerness that roars beneath her brown eyes.

he looks back up at you and offers a bow of his own, ducking his head with the basket clutched to his chest. “my name’s ushijima wakatoshi,” he says his name, and immediately, he hears two simultaneous gasps from the children by your feet. though, at least in this moment, he decides not to ponder too much on the expression. “thank you for introducing yourselves and for bringing a gift.”

you wave your hand in a ‘shoo shoo’ motion and shake your head. “no need for thanks, ushijima-san,” you hum, “really, it’s nothing much, but i hope you’ll be able to find good use for them— ”

“are you a volleyball player?”

suddenly, the little girl, makoto, blurts out a question that causes your eyes to widen and catches him off guard as you both turn your attention to her. she continues to stare up at him, as if awaiting his answer despite you reaching for her hand to gently pull her back. “makoto!” you exhale, a bit surprised, it seemed, as if you hadn’t expected her to ask something like that. though wakatoshi, he doesn’t take any issue at all with her question, and he simply nods his head, once more offering the most polite of smiles he can muster.

“that’s right. i play volleyball.”

you seem to recognize something within the awe-filled gazes of the two children that he doesn’t, because before either of them can get a word out, you’re hurriedly reaching for their hands and making your way down the stairs. “thanks so much again, mr. ushijima!” you call back to him with one free hand, leaving the man standing stunned inside his doorway as you walk away from him. “let’s get along well from now on!” when you think you’re far enough, he thinks he hears your voice taking to astonishment as the little girl whines a complaint — “but mom, we saw him on tv! it’s really him!” and your response heavily pouring with your dialect as you lightly scold her for blurting out so suddenly.

he’s left here, basket in his hand as he hears several gears creaking to their abrupt stops and clanking as they fall apart in his mind. mom? she’d said mom, hadn’t she? with ghostly steps that are far too quiet for a man of his stature, wakatoshi shuffles to his expansive living room where he sets your gift atop his clear glass coffee table, right next to his glass of wine and his book, and collapses into the black suede sofa behind him. you’re a mother? the guilt that consumes him tastes bitter and threatens to crawl up his throat. he sits, hands folded above his lips as his elbows dig into his thighs, and he stays this way for one minute, then two, constantly replaying the sound of your daughter calling you mom. your daughter, your daughter and son, you have a daughter and a son who both call you mom—

wearily, wakatoshi’s eyes glaze over your cutely packaged gift and straight to the glass of wine that sits like a pretty temptation, and cruelly, he thinks of how you are just the same. a beautiful and painfully enticing temptation that will surely render him helpless if he gets any more involved with you. he groans, hissing under his breath as he reaches for the glass and stands up. it’ll serve him better to retire for the night, he concedes, a hand nursing the growing migraine that sits on either side of his head. he’ll finish his glass and read his book peacefully in bed, and for the second time this day, wakatoshi will forget all about you.

except, he doesn’t.

amidst his waking dreams and long night, forgetting you is impossible. how can he, when you come to him here in his bed, the straps of your purple dress falling from your brown shoulders and your breasts pouring out from the thin material? how is wakatoshi supposed to forget you when in his dreams, you tease him with the likeness of a vixen, when you lift the edges of your skirt to show him just how plump and fleshy your thighs and ass are, whispering “do you wish to touch me, mr. ushijima?” in that sultry, silk-like voice of yours. he dreams of the way your eyes would roll back into your skull if he brushes his fingers over that sweet spot between your legs, if his tongue traces lines over your panties until your knees buck and you fall right on top of him. in his dreams, he wants you so much that it’s an ache he needs to fill, until he’s unconsciously fucking his mattress and squeezing his pillows with a vice. his breathing is laboured and tasting of honey as he begs you yes, yes, please, i need you… need you so bad, please i need to touch you—

his climax rocks his body like an earthquake and tears him away from sleep with a jolt, his chest heaving as sweat clings to his skin and his eyes, disoriented, search his dark room for your image before they fall to the soiled mess leaking through his boxers and between his thighs. his damn cock is twitching, still painfully sensitive, and wakatoshi stutters through a gasp as his hips buck uncontrollably, as if chasing some phantom feeling, cum still continuing to spurt from the angry red tip. he reels from pure shock and a bit of morbid amazement as he reflects on his dream, and as he recalls those dirty visuals his mind managed to conjure, he lets out a loud, frustrated cry and falls flat against his mattress. really, is this the man he is? a perverted fool who has inappropriate thoughts and dreams about another man’s wife?

he curses himself, and curses his mind too, as he begrudgingly swings his legs over the edge of his california king and. sleep evades him now, he certainly fears reliving that dream that felt far too realistic, your touches, the taste of you — all far too real that it leaves him shaken. one hand lifts to brush his sweat-matted hair away from his forehead as his eyes disdainfully behold the mess he’s left all over his dark sheets, where his semen sits in a large puddle while there are still drops running down his thighs, and he unwillingly thinks about you once more. those sounds that your voice made in his dream, all those dirty songs and cries of his name that you’d uttered, the way your skin felt so supple and soft beneath his hands as he felt you up and spread your legs apart—

a surprised moan causes wakatoshi to slap a hand around his mouth as his cock twitches in his soiled boxers, still very hard and leaking through the now cold material. no, he decides, he really won’t be able to fall asleep again — not like this, at least. but wakatoshi has practice in the morning, and within all his years of playing volleyball, he’d never gone a night without proper sleep. for the umpteenth time, he groans helplessly, flopping back down on the edge of his bed. he glares at his boner, wishing it would just peacefully deflate and that, really this time, he could forget you and just go back to bed; and again, once again, he sighs, and submits himself to a decision he’s certain that he’ll immediately curse himself for as he pulls out his cock and wraps his fist around it.

he hates himself for it, but it’s so easy for him to build a perfect fantasy of you. one where you’re sitting prettily on your knees and batting those doe-brown eyes up at him through your lashes. his hand squeezes softly around his erection and at first, he moves slowly, choking back each heavy breath of air that threatens to burst through tightly pursed lips. but god, he thinks of the way you’d tease him, slowly tracing your mouth over the tip and leaving a trail of saliva and strawberry flavoured lip-gloss while your manicured nails would trace tantalizingly lines down his thighs. his hips buck impatiently into his own fist and his chest heaves with soft grunts that become more uninhibited as he imagines you finally slipping him into your warm mouth and his very spirit crumbles on the lust that consumes him.

“does that feel good, mr. ushijima?” you’d beseech him, so eager to please as you’d trace your tongue across his leaking slit, collecting the drops of precum that poured out and smear it around your lips. and he’d be just as breathless as he feels in his fantasy, trying and failing to conceal each gasp that evades him as he nods, “yes.. yes, your mouth feels so fucking good.” he’d force you to swallow him whole, pushing your head down to the base until you’d choke and your eyes would water as he’d throw his head back — without his will, his hand moves faster around his cock and fills his dark bedroom with filthy, sloppy noises. “take every inch, don’t you fucking dare spit it out. that’s it, shit…just like that. swallow it all the way down.”

he thinks of how fleshy and warm the back of your throat would feel as you’d gag around him and dig your nails into his thigh, struggling to take even a single breath through your nostrils as he’d mercilessly fuck your face. he’d drag you off him suddenly and slap his cock against those messy lips, and he’d get to admire the way you’d fall apart as your mouth lolls open as if begging him to put it back in. “ohh, such a greedy little slut, aren’t you?” he’d taunt, and a particularly loud, wanton moan rises from his chest as he imagines the way you’d use your hands all while staring up at him. you’d be the very picture of salaciousnes as your hands wrap around his smeared length, teasing the underside of him with your tongue and groaning through your own arousal. he imagines how he’d wrap his hand around your throat as he’d tower over you; he’d have your face pressed right up to his stomach while he’d reach down and grab a handful of your breasts, reeling at how soft and squishy they’d feel pouring between his already large hands before he’d twist your nipples, and you’d whine like a helpless nymph from how sensitive your body would become. “go on, then.” he’d hum, and he wouldn’t give you even a second to prepare before he’d have you choking around his length, groaning as spit would bubble around his erection and pour from your nostrils. “use those pretty little lips of yours. mhm, let daddy feel your tongue on his dick while he fucks your throat.”

and its as he pictures the way your eyes would roll into the back of your head, cheeks puffed and stuffed full as you whine around him that, for the second time that night, wakatoshi cums into his fist. pleasure sears through his teeth and down his spine as spurts of semen explode from his slit and he forgets himself on the suddenness of his orgasm. “shit… ahh— aahhhh, shit!” the spots in his vision and the heat that consumes him from his bone and to his skin, it all coalescences on a pleasure he’d never once felt in his thirty-three years of living. his entire body trembles and his cock twitches against his abs, cum splashing against his sweat-sheened skin and dripping over his skin like hot, molten lava. the afterglow of pleasure is forsaken for the adrenaline that courses through his blood and turns the taste of his tongue to metals untold.

through his bliss, wakatoshi reaches clarity, and is overwhelmed by an intense wave of disgust and repulsion as he glares at his cock so feebly slapping against his stomach; it’s still hard, the damn thing, and every cell in his body craves ravenously for more, more, more…but he refuses. absolutely refuses to repeat what he’d just done. for christ’s sake, you are a mother — a wife to someone who you return to each night, who gets to hold you and touch you, to whom you may give your heart and gentle affections to. tonight had been a mistake, he tells himself; an irrational lapse in judgement, and come morning — he means it this time, really! truthfully! — he’ll forget all about this sin, and forget about you. you’ll be nothing more than a new neighbour who moved in with your family, and your interactions will be few and far between, enough that he’ll be forgiven for the immorality that he’d let himself fall to.

but the devil, oh, the devil, bless his soul, he has his tricks, and he loves to play.

wakatoshi hasn’t at all forgotten about the previous night, but he pretends that he has. on the cusp of dawn, when the rising sun sinks her warm fingers through his tousled hair, he focuses on his beating heart and his laboured breath as he jogs through the park and back through his gated community. he pretends that he didn’t jerk off to his new neighbour and envision her doing the dirtiest things to him, and he almost succeeds.

almost.

he nearly swears when he walks out of his front door the next morning and bumps into you at the earliest hours of dawn. there you are, where you shouldn’t be — not this early in the morning before the sun had risen, when he’d made sure to leave early enough that he would’ve avoided this situation exactly. it’s summer, isn’t it? why, wakatoshi wonders, had you woken up so early? could he really be do unlucky? he sees you and your two children, and he’s now certain that they must be twins, and you’re too busy fixing their backpacks on their backs and fussing over their hair and faces to even notice him awkwardly frozen by his doorstep.

“you both have everything you need, right?” your voice reaches him on tones of faint worry and anxiousness as you lean down over your children, unwittingly showing off your rack for him to see between the button up blouse you wear. even from where he stands, it’s such a clear picture that he feels his head spin as his eyes remain glued there. “you’ve got your toothbrushes and toothpaste? lotion? shampoo and conditioner?”

your son, asahi, tries to escape your busy hands, though it doesn’t dissuade you very much it seems. “mama, we already have everything!” he grumbles with a slight pout, “we’ll be alright.”

a quiet sigh falls from your lips as, finally, you relent, kneeling down to hug your two children. “i know you will be, asahi,” you whisper softly before pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “promise me you’ll both be good and have lots of fun, alright? can you send me a text when you get there safely?” both the twins nod their head yes before placing a kiss on either of your cheeks, and wakatoshi finds the sight endearing as he sees your smile brighten on tenderness and motherly affection. a part of him feels as if he’s intruding on what should be a family’s private and treasured moment, something precious that should only be seen by your husband and not the creepy neighbour next door. his stomach turns in on itself and, like a demon he can’t escape, guilt and shame crawl over his neck.

“bye mama!” makoto is the first one to hop on to her bike, waving her hand excitedly and full of energy despite the early morning, while her twin follows in a far less eager manner as he waves at you too. “i love you!”

“i love you mama..!”

“i love you both, you two!” now standing at full height, you wave both your hands as both asahi and makoto start to pedal away. “make sure to have lots of fun!”

before long, both your children have gone down the hill and you’re left alone with a wistful smile, and wakatoshi finds himself desperate to go before you have the chance to notice him standing. his normally sure feet fail him on a moment as he stumbles in his hurriedness, and in his attempt to steady himself, his hands fall slack and drop the very large, very metal he’d bottle been carrying with a loud clang! that causes your head to whip around. he meets your gaze, shame bubbling in his gut and he wishes that lightning would just fall from the sky and take him from his misery. what happened to avoiding you as best as he could? he wonders, what happened to leaving at the crack of dawn and being on his way before he’d need to lay eyes on you again so soon after last night?

wakatoshi is so embarrassed that he could die.

“ah! good morning, mr. ushijima.” you, oblivious to his plight, greet him politely, bowing your head. he notices the way you absentmindedly pull your cardigan over your sheer night dress, the chill from the morning mist having caused you to shiver a little. your nipples have turned hard and poke through the thin white material, and are very, very visible without him needing to try and see them. he purses his lips, sighs through his nostrils and averts his gaze, focusing instead on retrieving his traitorous waterbottle and praying that his grey slacks do well to hide the problem that now begins to grow beneath them.

“good morning, mrs. (l/n.)”

he tries to focus on his feet as he descends down his front steps, ensuring that he doesn’t lose his footing once more rather than looking at you. and yet, he can’t help the awkwardness that he feels as every muscle in his body seems to have tensed up despite him having gone jogging to warm himself up. you remain none the wiser, something he’s thankful for, as he hopes and prays that he can get past you and on his way before you notice his strange demeanour.

“do you normally get up this early?” you ask in a polite attempt at making small talk, to which wakatoshi offers you a slight nod as he gives you just enough of his attention.

“yes,” and, admittedly, he’s also curious, and he returns a question against his better judgement. “do you?”

laughter bubbles up from your lips as you shake your head. “goodness, no!” you chime playfully, lifting your watch to see the hour; 5:39. “it’s too early for me, but asahi and makoto are about to start summer camp for their club — i’d only been seeing them off today.”

he offers an understanding nod, similarly recalling the days of his youth where he’d also attended summer camps during elementary through high school. right now, he considers would be a perfect time to end this conversation and see himself away now that he’s heard what he wanted from you, but something in him urges him to stay, to talk to you more and spend some time with you. he knows he’s not the best at small talk, is all too aware that his social skills are terrible, at their worst, incredibly abysmal, but he wants to try — against his better moment, and he’s reminding himself all the while that you’re a mother and a married woman, but despite that, he wants to talk more with you. perhaps, and it’s a delusion that he forces himself to believe, he’d want to be friendly with you. it’ll certainly be easier than perpetually avoiding you when you’d done nothing wrong to him, after all.

“are you—” fuck, his voice sounds scratchy as he clears his throat, blush creeping over his cheeks. “are you um… headed back to bed then?”

as you ponder his question, he gets to take in your morning appearance. your hair’s been brushed and tied back with a little white bow, and your lips look air brushed and as soft as rose petals. hugging your sides beneath your cardigan, you shiver, and wakatoshi notices the way you slightly lean back and forth on your heels. “i guess it’d be a waste to try and sleep again now,” you hum with your gaze turned towards the horizon, where the sun begins to peak over the far off mountain on soft blue touched by golden hues. “i’ll need to be ready for work in a few hours.” you turn your gaze to him with a cheekish grin, and his heart skips a beat. “why not start my morning now, right?”

oh. oh, this is bad. for the second time, waktoshi tries to clear his throat with a hand covering his mouth and averts his eyes from your beaming face. “i’ll let you get to it then,” he says, his voice sounding so small and timid to him that he feels his mind reeling and his tongue turning heavy. “enjoy the rest of your morning, ms. (l/n).”

“thank you, ushijima-san! you do the same, okay?” for a second, he lets his eyes find yours, and they dazzle him within just that moment that he has to look away. he leaves as you re-enter your home, and it’s the only thing he can do to squeeze the straps of his bag to rid himself of the jittery feeling racking through his spine. his heart beats too loudly and he feels dazed, as if he walks on clouds and forgets how to even breathe.

he doesn’t— no, he can’t be; his feet break from the slow pace as he breaks into a jog, each muscle within him burning cold and begging for release from the thoughts in his mind. there’s no way… he doesn’t like you, does he? why else would he have dreamt of you the way he had? why else would he feel so nervous and timid when you stand face to face? the morning dew tastes like liquid mercury and sets through his veins on a violent rush as he runs, as far away from you as he can get, hoping to immediately expel you from his thoughts, to escape this hold that you seem to have locked around him.

he laughs at himself, helpless and bewildered; is he really nothing more than a foolish boy? at thirty-something years old, ushijima wakatoshi is developing a crush on his married neighbour — even the mere notion to him is so adamantly ridiculous that he could throw himself off a bridge. he feels embarrassed, utterly and completely mortified, and it’s for his sake that he tries to push the notion far, far away, so that, at least for the day, he wouldn’t have to think about it. he suppresses these budding epiphanies in the face of his teammates, who tease him for being seven minutes later than he usually is and tries to ignore the fact that it’s all because he’d stayed and talked with you. he tries to forget about you through the drills and practice rounds, lets the heavy beating of his heart turn its turmoil into adrenaline and sweat that seeps through his thin shirt. wakatoshi falls into routine and this time, certainly, this time, he’s moved on. the feelings that soaked through his core on the early morning’s dawn have disappeared and melted away on summer’s blistering heat, and he thinks that finally, he can let go of that ghost that’s haunted him from the night until morn.

but noon, as it always does, succeeds the dawn, and there you are.

the burn in his muscles turns to a seething fire that he fears will consume him right where he stands, amidst the people around him going about their days while he remains glued in place. his heart, oh the poor thing, it beats on the fallings of a thousand horses and threatens to rip right from between his rips and spill itself out on the pavement. wakatoshi wants to run, he wants to take flight and escape into the burning sun, but his feet fail him on the jolts that run through his aching muscles when your eyes, oh, he imagines he sees the world in them, find his amidst the sea that threatens to swallow him whole.

“ah? mr. ushjimima!” your voice calls out to him a surprise he thinks he feels on tenfold as you approach the man. god, how many hours has it been, even? he’d only just seen you this morning, isn’t it too soon for him to be put through this never-ending crisis? he doesn’t feel as if he’s ready, as if he can look you in the eyes while trying to force away the memories of last night, or the turbulent mess that dances and ties red knots around his throbbing heart. “i didn’t expect to see you here too.”

neither did i, he thinks helplessly, though he offers a single words that sounds choked up in his throat, “practice.”

“oh!” you chime, your eyes gazing behind him to where the large sports gym stays only so many paces behind — if he really wants, wakatoshi could easily pretend that he has to return if only to escape from you, but he doesn’t — for some incomprehensible reason, his tongue betrays him with the phantom taste of you.

“well,” you smile, and laughter spills from your lips as you tuck your hair behind your ear and meet his eyes from behind your lashes. “i didn’t think i’d see you again so soon — and at my place of work, no less.”

i didn’t think i would, either, wakatoshi thinks to himself, and then your words rewind in his mind and everything halts. your place of work? the question spills from his lips before he can even think to stop it. “you work here?”

you nod with a hum, gesturing with your palm to the academic buildings that span the expansive lot. “i teach vocal composition and contemporary piano courses here.”

“ah.” of course. wakatoshi is bewildered; how unlucky could he be? for the married woman he fantasized about to be working at the very same university that his team frequents for volleyball practice? he takes a moment to curse the heavens and the cruel gods within them because certainly, they must find humour in his agony.

like lasers, wakatoshi’s eyes become too hyperfocused on you all at once. there’s sweat gleaming down your neck and dipping between your breasts and trailing wet marks down your v-line as you, absentmindedly, fan at yourself. he takes in the way your eyes scrunch together and your lips part with a heavy breath, a sigh that, to his ears, sounds lewd and filthy, and on that single breath, his world runs like a viscous furnace. he’s like a moth drawn to each and every detail about you that swells on the summer’s heat and as he stands here, everything consumes him — the slight pout of your full, puffy lips, the display of your breasts that look so big that they could pop out of your low button up dress at any second, those big, doe-like eyes of yours that are so close to rolling back beneath the agonizing heat — every bit of you accords into a vision of immeasurable pleasure and lust, and then you look at him, head tilted back and panting ever so slightly, and it’s enough and too much all at the same time.

“it’s awfully hot today, isn’t it, mr. ushijima?”

wakatoshi thinks he’ll lose his mind.

something breaks like a faucet and pours scalding water all over himself as he feels his grey sweats becoming too tight, too confining, just like the situation he finds himself in and he decides that now would be the perfect time to leave. “i have to head back.” he nearly stutters over his abrupt sentence, and he sees the slightly startled look that comes over your sun kissed face. again, he feels guilty for fooling you, for lying straight to those innocently pure eyes that are none the wiser of the effects you have on him. in a pathetic attempt that he doubts you’ll even believe, he tries to dissuade you with a simple, yet suffocated, “practice is gonna start soon.”

“oh, of course!” his lie seems to work, and wakatoshi hopes that the relief that locks inside his throat isn’t too obvious as you turn your feet to the opposite direction. “i didn’t mean to hold you up, i’m so sorry!”

“no, it’s alright.” it’s not, but what is he supposed to say? “i’m sure you’ll need to prepare for your next class soon.”

you giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand, and your eyes crinkle at the corners. “you’re right. it was a very nice surprise to see you again, mr. ushijima!”

as he makes his pathetic escape, wakatoshi prays that you don’t find him weird after this, but perhaps if you’d have any inclination of what he’d done, what he’s about to do, would you look at him in disgust? of course you would — he asks himself, how could you not? his feet can’t take him to the secluded gym fast enough as he forsakes everything about himself, purely fueled now by this burning desire that’s carnal in its awakening. the bathroom door locks and the bolt slams with a loud click, the ac languidly blowing through this confined area not nearly enough to quell the fire blazing across his skin. it’s immoral and utterly deprived what he considers doing, and the shame he feels is bound to be an eternal scar. yet in this moment, with his cock so painfully hard and pressing uncomfortably against his thigh, leaking so much precum that it stains through the thick material of his shorts, wakatoshi doesn’t care — not for the ungodliness of the act he’ll commit, nor for the consequences that could follow him. not now, at least. as he releases his throbbing member from its binds and wraps his fists around it, it’s the farthest thing from his mind as he thinks about you. again, it’s you.

the wind in his lungs is knocked out from his mouth as he rapidly pumps his dick. in an instant, the empty bathroom is filled with the squelching noises that bounce and echo off the tiled walls, only contested by his laboured breaths and groans. his knees threaten to lose their ground, and he desperately clutches the cold edge of the sink, the chill consuming his palm almost jarring to the aggressive heat that pours all through him. the image of you with your head tilted towards the sky, of your lips hanging open on salacious cries of his name as he envisions you on top of him, it all drives him to the brink of insanity.

wakatoshi thinks of your body in that tight button up dress blue dress. he thinks of how elegant and put together you looked, the picture perfect woman, and how he wants to tear apart only the top pins open and let your breasts fall out so that he could take them between his lips. how would you sound, he wondered, if he rolled your nipples between his teeth, sucked on them with his tongue until they’d turn hard and perky? would you cry out his name just like you always do? would that sweet voice of yours sing out on torrential pleasure as you’d call out to him, your thighs squeezing around his waist while your hips buck and wriggle over his cock? that innocent façade you wear, how quickly could he make you abandon all reason for desire, until you begged him with your words of honey for him to destroy you?

his fantasy falls apart and rips through him like a comet as cum explodes from his throbbing member and spills through his fingers, ever so narrowly missing his pants and spurting out on the tiled floors. it’s non-stop, this horrible, horrible mess that keeps on growing, his body jolting and knees feeling weak and he struggles to hold himself up because he can’t stop coming, so consumed in his fantasy that the moans he fought so hard to contain now ring freely inside the empty bathroom as his hand continues to milk every drop that jolts out of him. you’re the only thing in his mind, consuming him with hellfire as pleasure winds him up and tears him apart over and over again, and he knows he needs to stop, he’s being too loud, too careless, he could get caught, but god, does this taboo feel so good that he loses control. his depraved mind wonders on you catching him, cumming all over his hands like a depraved beast, all because of you?

there’s a daze that overcomes wakatoshi, heat fading to a warmth that fights for some kind of structure to hold on to as he, breathlessly, leans over the sink. his eyes look down between his legs, the length of his cock still twitching in his palm and cum smeared around it and webbing along his fingers. it doesn’t yet come to him, the reality of what he’s done, and its awakening is slow and steady, until it crashes all around him with the last wisps of adrenaline trickling out of his system. for a long time, he stares at his hands, at the mess smeared in his palm and all over his pants, and he meets his stare in his reflection. he stares, but doesn’t comprehend as a minute becomes two, and then five, and when it’s been far beyond ten, his body flushes over with red-hot embarrassment as he clenches his teeth and drops his head.

wakatoshi, filled with shame, wishes he could throw himself into the sun.

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