#but then he starts to have those pesky feelings and

[ladystoneboobs]

no of fence to jon snow fans who for some reason care about his exact age, but these discussions just annoy me no end. not only bc there's no way any weirwood flashbacks bran has to rhaegar/lyanna will come with time/datestamps, but also bc there's always comments like this:

SEVERAL turns of the moon (ie, months)?! have these people never seen a human baby before or just have no concept of their ages? even if we take into account travel time from the toj to wf, meaning jon was not a newborn too fresh out the oven when catelyn and robb arrived, there's still a difference between a newborn and a 3mo and an even bigger difference between those infants and an older baby 5-7mo. there's very good reasons these lines were cut. whatever birthdates can be worked out internally for jon and robb from when they're first mentioned as 15 and 16 don't matter in the end, bc grrm doesn't care about a consistent timeline and the actual text of catelyn's pov and ned's convo with robert about cheating on her should outweigh any guesstimates about jon's official nameday wrt robb's. catelyn may not have cared for jon, but she would sure as hell have noticed his nameday if it came before robb's and made him ned's firstborn. if jon's birthday canonically came before robb's then either ned's cover story would not involve adultery (not impossible for him to sire a bastard before his wedding), or he'd just give jon a new nameday along with his new name to fit the adultery lie. it makes no sense for him to lie about one and not the other, undermining the big lie with a little public clue of his story not adding up. whatever else she was as a stepmother, cat wasn't stupid and a bastard who was actually the eldest son being raised alongside her trueborn heir could be an even bigger insult than whether he was born of adultery or not.

BUT, the unknowability of jon's true birthday is not the only reason this annoys me, it's bc this is all based on the assumption that jon must be older since rhaegar/lyanna ran off together before ned married cat, as if both boys must have been conceived asap as robb canonically was when his parents consummated their marriage. and that's not how human reproduction works! even if you don't understand how fast babies grow in the first year, you should know that people who get pregnant do so through ovulation cycles and a lucky sperm finding an egg and all that, not just immediately getting knocked up as soon as one has p-in-v sex for the first time. not unless you only know mean girls sex ed where if you have sex you will get pregnant and die. (even tho lyanna did die, there's plenty of canon examples where pregnancy did not lead straight to death. also examples of people who did not get pregnant right away and even some who are/were sexually active and childless without always having moon tea on hand.) we can't know how long lyanna was having sex before that sperm+egg match happened or even how long she was with rhaegar before losing her technical virginity. if they were married, doesn't it make sense to think they didn't consummate their relationship until the wedding night either? that's the only leverage there is to ensure a status as wife rather than just mistress.

and while i just said grrm doesn't care about exact timelines and a lot is still foggy surrounding the rebellion and esp rhaegar, there is one timemarker wrt robert's rebellion he voluntarily threw in, time and time again: that stannis was besieged at storm's end for almost a whole year. that siege, which mind you, did not match the duration of the entire war. it only started after robert won his battles at gulltown and summerhall, returned to storm's end, and then went out and lost the battle of ashford, leaving his homeland open to the reachermen. the same siege which only ended when ned made a detour there after the sack of king's landing, before going to the toj. even if lyanna may not have given birth that exact day ned found her, she could only be waiting in that bloody bed for weeks at the most, not months. so if rhaegar knocked her up the very same night he carried her off and jon was still a newborn when ned found her after the siege of storm's end had ended, wouldn't that mean lyanna was pregnant for well over a year? that's not how human pregnancy works either! so, maybe that's proof that jon and robb, whichever order they were actually born in, were actually very close in age as babies, much closer than if they were both conceived asap.

and really, jon's actual birthdate does not matter imho, when he was raised not just as the bastard to robb's trueborn heir, but with robb also known by catelyn and the world as ned's firstborn (which he was, in any case, as jon was ned's nephew by birth). what difference could a birthdate before robb's make (even were there some means of discovery) after ned, cat, and robb are all dead? if one is looking only at his birth parents then he's only a firstborn child on lyanna's side, but definitely a second son on rhaegar's side. maybe he was always meant to be a second son with a not much older half-brother! even if the aegon fka young griff is not in fact rhaegar's son, he'll still be known as aegon vi targaryen, meaning jon will never be known as any father's elder son. if i may reference mean girls again, it's not going to happen.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #robb stark #jonathan snowflake starkgaryen #i want him to succeed me as king in the north #jon snow #ned stark #lyanna stark #like this isn't prompted by anyone except that reddit post and its comments this has just annoyed me for so long #that's why i made that show!robb/show!jon coming of age gifset years ago bc narratively jon is always a second son #bc robb did everything first as elder bro and the only milestones jon will hit first will be the those robb can't since he's dead for good #(obviously starting with jon being first male stark to be brought back from the dead) #not that everyone interested in this debate thinks this way but it just feels tied to the idea of jon being a trueborn heir #not only was he never a bastard he was an eldest boy! eldest surviving boy with those pesky half-dornish sibs gone! point missed. #sorry i just dont think grrm means for a targ restoration with king jon any more than fake eldest boy kendall roy could win his succession #(c)lsb #i had to look up all the quotes on the big storm's end siege bc it makes me feel like i'm taking crazy pills #thinking what abt stannis starving for a year while others are like we just can't know how long rr was. was it even 9mons? #like yeah lollys's pregnancy doesn't add up but bc grrm really slowed the tl down postacok prob w/o really thinking #thats diff from repeatedly saying something lasted almost a year when he didn't have to give such a timeframe!

[exuvianen]

dating hc's with dr. ratio, aventurine + blade!

headcanons about what these hsr men do in a relationship witth you <3

cw: x reader, gn! reader (no physical descriptions), mostly fluff, sfw, headcanon style

notes: hsr brainrot… ahahaha... i hope i have a fairly good grasp on these characters and wrote them well. 

wc: ~1050 words, around 350 words per character. all under the cut!

feel free to drop an ask or to add on to my thoughts! likes + rbs are appreciated  <3

✎ Dr. Ratio:

He likes parallel play, or being alone together with you. He works on his own projects, like grading papers or writing a new thesis while you’re doing your own thing, like playing video games or reading. Occasionally, he might ask you for your input, such as ideas about his next thesis or what pose he should sculpt himself into next. 

He has a spare desk and chair for you in his office. You can choose to do work or entertain yourself there when you visit him and he’s still teaching a lecture, but feel free to take a nap on the plush sofa he bought just for you. 

He will nag you about your health but in an annoyingly endearing way. He fusses over you, telling you about appropriate attire for today’s weather, offering you an umbrella, and reminding you to drink water. 

He entertains all your ideas, no matter how silly or illogical. He’ll hear you out on anything you say, though he might have some very strong disagreements or objections to your ideas, especially if they are silly or completely nonsensical. However, he never turns you away when you bound up to him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes - he just sighs and prepares himself mentally to hear whatever goofiness comes out of your mouth. 

He’s your biggest cheerleader, supporter, and advocate. Though he may come off as intimidating, he is always willing to help advance your career or work. He has many connections and vast knowledge of the universe after all - why not utilize them for his beloved? 

He’s very good at dispelling any irrational thoughts in your head. If you’re panicking and your mind is disoriented, he’ll sit next to you and hold your hand gently, but firmly to ground you. He doesn’t speak at all when you vent out all your frustration, confusion, or anger - rather, he’s silently contemplative and then asks questions when you finish talking. He’ll indirectly guide you to a solution while gently calming you down as he dispels those pesky thoughts from your head.

He makes a custom alabaster head for you. 

♤ Aventurine:

A big fan of matching accessories and clothing. You don’t need to wear the exact same outfit, but he likes wearing complementary colors and jewelry to yours.

If you’d like, he’d be more than happy to bring you to casinos and public events with him. He wants to show off to you and let you witness his wit, talent, and skill like a peacock presenting its colorful feathers. 

He likes it a lot when you trace his skin through the spade-shaped hole in his outfit.

He hates the feeling of being vulnerable, but he likes being around you. This creates conflicting emotions inside of him. Oftentimes, he doesn’t know how to deal with it and just lurks by you. Pull him into a hug to quiet the voices in his head. 

He will send you packages or luxury items from the planets he’s visiting. You’ll be greeting a disgruntled Topaz or IPC soldiers at your door as they hand you various gifts ranging from limited-edition jewelry to flowers that bloom only once every 200 amber eras. He gifts extremely grand things, but he always knows how to find things that suit your tastes.

He’s a big spender on you. If you’re unused to the amount of money he’s willing to throw at you, he’s going to give you a lot of “exposure therapy” with his generosity. He’ll invite you to private auctions, lavish galas, luxury boutiques, and high-end jewelry stores. He’ll start filling your wardrobe with tailor-made clothes with the excuse that you should match his outfits when you attend formal events together, but his clothing contributions eventually infiltrate your closet pretty deeply. 

He enjoys being pampered and pampering you. Self-care nights are a must - as a representative of the IPC and one of the ten Stonehearts, he has to keep himself presentable and looking sharp, and that goes for his partner too! He’s more than happy to spend money to fund your trips to the salon or buy you any beauty products to use at home. He’d love to put on face masks together and share a drink or two with you. 

☠︎︎ Blade:

If you want to, and Elio’s script permits, he will bring you along on missions to safer planets. He’ll drop you off at a commercial district - feel free to go shopping or try out some novelty food while he wraps up his Stellaron Hunter business.

He likes getting his hair brushed. One of his favorite activities is sitting down and letting you comb through his hair after he cleans up from a mission. It’s an activity that leaves him vulnerable, but he doesn’t mind if it’s with you.

He’s an acts of service kind of guy. He moves to take your bags before you even say anything, holds open doors, and pulls out chairs for you. Brings you a cup of water and some fruit when you’ve been working for too long, and silently drapes his jacket over you when you shiver.

Tell him you like a certain pastry and he’ll show up every day and bring some. Show him a picture of a pretty flower and he’s boarding a spaceship to bring the flower to you personally. If you want something, he’ll do his best to get it.

He’s pretty quiet, but he’ll remember everything you say, what your preferences are, and what you like. He secretly writes it down in case his memory gets murky, and he’ll often reread his notes to remind himself.

He gives simple but traditional gifts to you, such as jade bracelets and pendants, and combs and hairpins if you have longer hair to wear or use them.*

He’ll treasure anything you gift to him. If you make an accessory for him, he wears it at all times. If your gift is small enough, he’ll stow it safely in his pockets and take it everywhere with him.

If family is important to you, he’ll send funds their way and ensure that they’re taken care of. 

As someone who’s often dead and then undead, his body can get stiff. He’ll enjoy it immensely if you massage him, and accompany him for his daily stretches and calisthenics. Even if you just hold him for a while, he finds that his muscles will relax from the warmth emitting from your body. Therefore, he quite appreciates having you physically near him.

* Combs, hairpins, Jade bracelets, and pendants were given as tokens of love and affection in Ancient China. These gifts have a deeper meaning/symbolism, but for the sake of post length, I did not write them all out. 

#exuvia works #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #dr.ratio x reader #hsr headcanons #blade x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #hsr blade #hsr aventurine #hsr dr.ratio #ratio x reader #veritas x reader #veritas ratio x reader

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [TOUCH STARVED]

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A/N: Photo/Fanart Credit to @/Nyer_roth on Twitter (hiatus)

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM/CAT HYBRID DEMON READER ]

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Touch Starved Alastor prefers your presence over anyone else’s in the Hotel. His shadows linger by your side if he’s not physically there and when he is it’s quite obvious to everyone how closely the Radio Demon is guarding you.

No one dares to breathe a word about his behavior but the moment he’s out of sight or ear shot Angel will tease you endlessly. “Seems you have Mr. Fancy Creep wrapped round your little finger, toots.” Your face flushes ten shades of red as the spider demon nudges your side while giggling at your flustered reaction. He knows -well everyone knows how you feel about Alastor- but you’ve made it a point to never let the overload onto your attraction to him.

Even if he already is aware of it…

Angel’s teasing doesn’t help your little crush dissolve as you wished it would, so with a huff and a rushed whisper you excuse yourself from the group. “N-no I don’t Angel and…I’m heading to bed. Goodnight…” Angle snickers at your deliberate deflecting, but says nothing else as you waltz up the staircase, barely listening to Charlie yelling “good night” to you, and failing to notice the dark mass of spectrums trailing your every step.

Touch Starved Alastor listens in on those pesky conversations the others have when it comes to you and him. You’re always so skittish and docile under their prying, blushing at the slightest implication of his attention being on you, and to say it intrigues him would be an understatement. Alastor isn’t one to entertain those who show him affection, let alone acknowledge it, but when it comes to you the overload’s mind runs rampant with devious desires. At first he ignores them, content with keeping your connection to him cordial, and that works for a time.

It doesn’t last forever though.

Especially when you unconsciously tend to him so reverently. You’re a people pleaser by nature -he’s sure of that- but the immediate stars in your eyes whenever he instructs you to do something strikes just the right nerve for him.

It’s always the simplest things, tedious tasks he burdens you with just to see your eagerness to please him on repeat, “My dear, would you be so kind as to hand me that book over there?” Your head lifts, hopeful eyes staring at him as you nod with a genuine smile, “Of course!” You chirp, walking right over to the bookshelf without question to acquire the item, and Alastor watches your every move.

The flutter of your lashes as you pinpoint the object, how you stand on your tip toes to reach it, and the gentle sway of your hair as you finally grasp the book. You’re so sweet, so gentle with everything, and Alastor spends hours trying to stop himself from thinking about your tender embrace being spared his way.

Touch Starved Alastor starts to lock himself in his room or radio tower more often than usual when he can’t seem to keep his distance. His shadows still lord over you but are never seen which makes it that much easier for him to watch you from afar.

His sudden disappearance and lack of socializing affects you heavily. You don’t smile as much and when you do the light in your eyes wanes. You’re still kind to everyone, but choose to sit alone during group activities, or wander the halls humming to avoid them all together.

Alastor takes notice of every frown adorning your face when someone mentions him or inquires as to where he is and for a split second guilt creeps its way into him seeing your energetic mood dwindle at his hands.

He can’t let this go on forever, not when you look so betrayed at the sound of his name, and mindlessly wander towards his empty room every night as if to check on him just to leave in fear of embarrassment.

Enough is enough.

Touch Starved Alastor finds you alone on a rare stormy night in Hell, an old book opened up to your curious eyes as you lay flat on your front across the parlor’s couch. He watches you from the shadows for a long while, studying the slight scrunch of your nose as your gaze happens open a certain line of text, and the way you gently kick your feet as your chin rests on the back of your hands.

He’s seen and met a mass amount of beings in his time in hell and not one has ever emitted anything close to your ethereal beauty. You swear you’re not a fallen angel to anyone who asks and it baffles him how a soul so light could end up here.

Unruly luck….maybe?

Fate, possibly?

He’ll figure it out one way or another.

“Hello, my dear, late night reading I see…” Alastors voice grasps your attention immediately, his usual staticky tone leaning towards normality as you peer up at him with a growing smile. “Yes…I couldn’t sleep,” you respond quietly, relatively shy around the overload, and trying hard not to seem overexcited to see him. You missed Alastor dearly the past few days but it would be embarrassing to show that longing outright….

The deer demon picked up on your excitement right away despite your attempts at casualness, his smile softening as you held his stare and bit your lip. Delicate fanged canines poking out just enough to prick your lower lip.

How adorable, Alastor inwardly muses at your nervous habit and continues with his light hearted interrogation. “Hm, I suppose a restless night can have that effect. ..Would you mind if I joined you then, darling?”

Touch Starved Alastor is elated when you nod gently, shifting to sit up properly, and give him a space beside you. “Of course Alastor…it gets lonely staying up by yourself. I’d appreciate the company.” Your sweet tone dazes him for a moment as he sits next to you, unconsciously disregarding his aversion to interpersonal space…

Odd…

He never situates himself this close to you, always looming, but never actively seeking your side. It’s strange to you at first but as he visibly relaxes you don’t mind the deliberate position he’s taken.

He could very well be tired or you might be hallucinating that he was putting an arm around your shoulders.

Either option didn’t ease the rapid pace of your heartbeat..

Alastor was careful with you, incredibly gentle as he pulled you to his side, and rested his chin on the top of your head. “Such a sweetheart you are, my dear.” He speaks quietly, oddly calm as you hum in agreement, your soft ears flattening as you breathe in his scent.

A smidge of brimstone mixed with the aroma bourbon and pine.

He smelled just like a lovely forest, a secure scent you wouldn’t mind getting used to, and tried to commit it to memory just in case Alastor never let you get this close to him again.

Touch Starved Alastor chuckles lowly when you breathe him in, finding your feline tendencies endearing, and listening to your soft purring become a vocal indicator of how comfortable you felt with him. You’d long forgotten the book, nuzzling your head under Alastor’s chin instead, getting lost in your innocent desire to be under him, and he makes no move to stop you.

If anything the radio demon welcomes your touch, sliding you onto his lap with ease, and that never ending smile of his becoming genuine when you absentmindedly compliment him. “…You smell…sweet,” you hum, speaking more to yourself than him, but he hears you and responds promptly. “Is that so, darling?”

You nod, head lifting to stare up at him through your lashes, “Mhm…I missed it..I…” you pause, face flushing red as the deer demon peers back at you, red eyes glinting with dormant affection as he studies your expressions.

“Come now, use your words dear…” he reassures you his patience isn’t waning with a gentle hum.

Alastor is tempted to watch your plush lips move as you struggle to speak up but it’s hard to resist when you finally whisper a confession -one you think he’ll be off put by…

“W-well I missed you entirely Alastor… a lot actually.” And there you go again, eyes wide with apprehensive hope, and ever present adoration. He’d felt his fair share of adrenaline rushes, experienced the “blood rushing to your head” urges that sinners and demons alike couldn’t resist, and though Alastor prided himself in remaining in control of such things…

You brought them out of him without even trying.

Ridiculous, truly…but the longer you fawned over him the less cordiality Alastor maintained.

Touch Starved Alastor lets his smile soften, deeply appreciating your timid vulnerability, and much to your relief he lets you know it. “Missed me? Well, I must have quite the effect on you to instill such a sentiment,” His tone is abundantly softer than usual, quietly echoing in the hotels parlor, and tickling the nerves in your ears.

They perk up along with your tail as he rests his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly close until the only proper place you can latch your hands onto is the back of the carved mahogany frame of the couch. “Al…” you sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut as his grip on you tightens a tad in response.

When had he gotten so touchy? Better yet, why?

All logical questions that you were asking yourself weren’t granted answers as the overlord inhaled heavily. Breathing you in just as you’d done to him moments ago.

Your unsteady pulse, rising lust, slight confusion, and underlying fear of him coursing through your veins in waves. Alastor identified each emotion, practically tasting them on his tongue, and his hunger rose again from it.

He could just eat you alive at this rate and from the whine you let out as he trailed his hands down to your thighs, claws ripping right through the sheer white thigh high socks you’d paired with a modestly short nightgown made it abundantly clear to him you wouldn’t mind if he did.

How sweet you’d taste?

How the shaky whines you were letting out now could turn to bashful screams?

How sickeningly perfect you’d look broken, bloody, and marked by him and him alone?

He’d wondered about these things constantly…feverishly…

Touch Starved Alastor lets his mirage of being a “true gentleman” dissipate entirely when you subconsciously roll your hips down on him for much needed friction -and in an attempt to dissolve the pain his scratches on your skin brought.

Fuck. This. Alastor curses himself, swiftly repositioning you both in a blink of an eye. Your back hits the velvet cushions with a gentle ‘thud’, earning a soft gasp on your part that’s inevitably silenced by one of his shadows wrapping around your mouth, and another gingerly snaking round your waist. He chuckles as you squirm underneath him, clearly wanting to be in control of your own body, but what would you ever need that autonomy for?

He’s here for a reason, right?

Why grant you more agency than required?

“Comfortable, my dear?” The leering stag above you chides, grin wide as you groan in frustration, eyes sliding shut as he slips between your parted legs. His red irises show brighter as your lower halves press flush against each other and you shudder from the contact -inwardly congratulating yourself for not wearing much underneath your nightdress to begin with.

Alastor allowed your hands to reach for him, your delicate claws gripping his suit collar as firmly as possible, tugging him lower as you shifted under his weight to grind against him. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he half reprimands half teases as your bare slit passes over the crotch of his black dress pants. There was no doubt your slick was leaving a stain and if it were anyone else -in any other situation- Alastor would’ve had their head for ruining his attire.

Luckily, you were to receive anything but his wrath.

How fortunate…

Touch Starved Alastor feels himself going mad when you mindlessly use any part of him you can reach as a bid for more pleasure. Eyes watering, begging him to touch you, help you, and it’s one hell of a sight to see in his opinion. “Desperate aren’t we, darling?” His cooing drives you insane, large hands wandering under your nightgown to trace your warm skin -not helping your dazed state at all.

Alastor purposefully claws at your body, placing surface level scars on it, letting the small droplets of blood that escape his cuts paint your skin and his fingertips. You struggle every soften, train of thought lagging as pain and pleasure start to intertwine.

“….please don’t stop..”

“What a sick & twisted little thing you are..”

Tears run down your face, drool dripping from the corner of your lips, and your cunt leaking all over him and sofa. Blood starts to seep through your nightdress in random streaks and it’s only then that Alastor decide it’s redundant to keep it on you. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?” That’s all the warning you get from the radio demon before you feel his claws shred it to pieces.

Thank heavens you hadn’t chosen your favorite one tonight or you’d be devastated…

“Much, much better, ma chère,” Alastor praises you as if the task was at your own hands -and to some degree it was for letting him get this far- and yet your face flushes a deep shade of red as you nod in agreement.

The shadowy tentacle covering your mouth tightens its grip, shifting sharply to expose your neck to him, and Alastor seizes the opening immediately. Taking his time finding your sensitive spots, marking them with his teeth and tongue until there’s dark bruises left behind, and you nearly came undone from the relentless precision of love bites he inflicts on you.

Touch Starved Alastor allows your hands wander wherever they please, quite taken with the feeling of your dainty claws raking down his back, or shifting up to pet his ears. They flicker about at your touch, ever so sensitive, and heightening the pleasure he gets from torturing you. Every sound you make, the shuddering moans against his lips, and the muffled cries that build in your chest when Alastor toys with you muddles his focus further.

Bit by bit you’re chipping away at his sanity by simply enjoying his caress and offering him yours.

Alastor isn’t one to succumb to pleading easily but when you’re given the chance to use your voice and beg for release without a second thought….he hasn’t got the gall to deny you.

Not when you’re looking up at him like you might die if he denies you, so worked up that you stutter, and shake uncontrollably.

“N-need to….p-please let me…come,” you whine as quietly as possible, ears laying flat on your head as he hums melodically in false consideration for your plight.

It’s fueling his already massive ego that you’re poised to come undone when he’s barely done a thing to you and he has half the mind to pull away and watch you fall to pieces…

You’d surely give him a show then, pouting helplessly, or cowering from embarrassment realizing how much of a mess you’ve made of yourself for him.

It’d be pure entertainment.

However, why waste a prime opportunity to see you utterly satisfied by him?

By his mere presence even.

The deer demon refuses to pass up such a rare occurrence, flipping your position again so your smaller frame sits atop his larger one. “F-fuck..” you hiss as you settle on top of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he guides your hips to keep riding him at a rough but languid pace. Alastor observes you above him for a long moment, smile widening when your hair falls in front of your bright eyes, and your hands splay across his chest to keep yourself steadily upright.

The scratches he’s left on you are still fresh, mixing with the tears that flow down your face, and your arousal pitifully dribbling down your inner thighs as well.

Exactly how he pictured you time and time again.

“You may,” he finally exhales, static completely gone from his voice, and hearing it elicits a newfound spark of heat in your core. Your legs shake involuntarily, hips stuttering in tight circles over his clothed erection as you chased your high. Alastor watches you intently, tonguing his cheek to keep from groaning, and his body running hotter than usual as your cunt drags against him.

Touch Starved Alastor can’t fathom how a soul as tender as yours can dwindle to filth in the midst of cumming. Head lulling at an angle while your back arches just right to define your silhouette in the dark room.

The coil in your stomach snaps faster than you can gauge a reaction. A scream threatening to leap from your chest as it washed over you, but his shadows return, clasping tight enough to muffle it. “Easy, my dear…you wouldn’t want to disturb the others, hm?” Alastor bucks his hips upward to make his point clear and you visibly jolt from the overstimulation he causes.

It was clear he needed his end met too and that brought a grin to your face as his shadows receded from your lips when you quieted down. “No…” you sigh, inching a hand lower to trace over the rise in his pants. Alastor stiffens under your touch, nearly snarling when you palm him slowly, eyes never leaving his as you do. Tempting and sweet as always, “Careful, Mon Cher,” he warns, voice thick with allure.

He’d only come to seek a warm body to torment, assuming he’d take care of his own needs later, but you -the ever so caring sinner you were- seemed intent to shoulder the task now.

You licked your lips, tongue grazing your fangs as your peered down at him defiantly with a warm smile, “M’ not one of your little puppets…” Alastor raised a brow at that, noting the mischievous glint in your eyes as you leaned forward, “….and I never will be.” You finish your statement, smiling wider before lowering yourself down his body. He lets you do as you please, stuck between observing, and enjoying the attention you give him.

It’s very rare to see the overload so willing to be tested, but you made your stance clear with a singular lick up his clothed length with the softest smile on your lips. “Fuck…” he groans then, static nonexistent again as you playfully repeated the action until he became agitated enough to fist a handful of your hair and drag you back up to face him.

“It’s not very polite to tease, sweetheart.”

You smirk and reach for his belt, skillfully undoing it without breaking eye contact, feigning humility through half lidded eyes“Then would you be so kind as to correct my manners then?”

“It’d be my pleasure, darling,”

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My head was all over the place with this one ❤️ I need some sleep…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He’s a literal walking red flag 🚩 and unfortunately my favorite color is red 😭 Credits to the creator 🖤

#Spotify #alastor smut #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #alastors radioshow #alastor fluff #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #fanfic #writing prompt #writing

[sky-high-standards]

Yandere!!!Banished Prince!! x Female!!! Reader

He was the heir to a powerful kingdom and was a very cruel and ungrateful man and treated everyone terribly and pretty soon he was banished by his own parents and would only be able to return after a year in hopes he would learn to be humble.

He was furious but couldn't do anything about it he was sent of with 80 gold coins and some food.

The first few days he spent all his money and the "friends" he made cast him away he was starving and wandered into the forest in hopes of finding food when he saw a cute little cottage and collapsed at the door.

He woke up in a soft bed and was startled to see you taking care of him you where so gentle and beautiful that he thought you where an angel at first.

It turns out after he passed out you had come home from work at the bakery and saw him in his dying state and quickly took him in and had tended to him for about three days now.

Once you saw he had woken up you introduced yourself and asked if he was feeling alright.

The prince did nothing but stare into your (eye color) eyes captivated by your beauty with a faint blush on his pale skin.

When he was snapped back into reality he introduced himself as the crowned prince of this kingdom and was surprised when you burst out laughing.

You thought he was just sick and delusional but he tried his best to get you to believe him but gave up after a while.

Being the kind person you are you invited him to stay with you if he helped around the house. At first he refused and went on about how a prince such as himself is far too grand to be doing dishes and cleaning the house but agreed when you threatened to kick him out.

You where horrified to see the dishes sloppily done and the house a mess when you can home and you where amazed to find out that your snobby guest didn't know how to do basic housework.

After showing him the ropes he got better at cleaning and even learnt how to cook.

He soon started to fall in love with you as the days went by to the point where he would jump for joy when you came home.

He literally became like a househusband and prepared a delicious dinner for you and insisted on feeding you and giving you a massage when you came home and got all pouty when you would refuse.

He was like a lovesick puppy and would get worried when you came home late and would get extremely jealous when you brought friends home and would note to himself to get those pesky friends of your executed for stealing your attention from him.

Pretty soon a year went by and he was allowed to come back to to palace and he tried to convince you to come to the palace with him and become is queen but you just laughed like you always did and said yes as a joke.

You where very surprised to see that your guest had gone and even more surprised too see royal carriage and a messenger saying the prince had asked for your hand in marriage and would take you by force if you refused.

When you saw the him you explained how you where joking and that you didn't like him like that he did not take it well and forced you to marry him.

Somehow you managed to escape the day before the wedding with the help of your family and friends and everything was fine for about a year.

Now here you are with your friends and family all killed because according to your new husband he's all you need and they had to be punished for trying to take you away from him.

"My Darling you have taken care of me now let me take care of you, I'm all that you need one day you will understand that."

#yandere x reader #x reader #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagine #yandere boy #yandere prince #female reader #yandere imagines #yandere community #male yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere male

[vampcubus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : kyojuro sure likes to stare, doesn't he? :ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sfw, gn!reader, pre-established friendship, background obamitsu meddling. :ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 : 1.4k+

Kyojuro, bless his heart, is so hopelessly attracted to you in ways he’s never experienced. 

Everything about you draws him in, from your striking beauty to your quick wit, how despite your snark you always treated others with compassion. You were fast friends, not that Kyojuro was particularly difficult to get along with. You’d even argue that such a person as him was impossible to dislike, at least without feeling guilty about it. 

He was blunt, genuine, and brimming with so much enthusiasm it tended to unsettle some. But never you. You would look upon him with quiet acceptance, hanging onto his every word. You didn’t seem to mind his complete disregard for eye contact or his erratic conversational skills. 

You just get him, he muses. And he’s never felt a kinship like that with anyone.

Kyojuro has always felt like he was moving faster than everyone else, both in mind and body. The man couldn’t sit still or shut up to save his life, or so the other Hashira would say – endearingly of course. No matter the sentiments his comrades held for him, none of them seemed to keep up quite as well as you did. Which is why he presumed you worked so well together.

He could blabber on about anything and have you following along just fine. Though after a few roundabout conversations ranging from swordplay to street food, he musters the confidence to ask if he talked too much for your taste. 

You only quirk a brow and snort, “Pffft, of course not! I like listening to you talk.” and you see something shift in his gaze, the softest shade of pink tinting his round cheeks.

It’s around there when the staring starts.

It’s a subtle change at first, catching his wide-eyed gaze from across the training field. Feeling his eyes upon you as you shared meals together. Stumbling over your words when you realize for the first time that he’s actually looking you in the eye as you talk.

It’s a new and exhilarating feeling to be able to admire those honey-colored eyes fully fixated on you for a change. Too often you found yourself staring back. And the way he brightens when your eyes meet sends your fickle heart into pesky palpitations every time. You swore his pupils bled further into his golden-red irises every time he spotted you. 

The idea of his eyes dilating at the mere sight of you endears you even more fiercely to him. As if such a thing was possible. You’re already attached at the hip, not to mention the dozens of joint missions you’ve taken. 

His exuberance could be trying when your objective was to blend in, but his swordsmanship more than made up for it. He was incredibly good at taking the edge off when tensions were high, he was an emotional pillar of support, and you were honored to have his focus.

The beloved Flame Hashira was enthusiastic about many things, but you most of all it seemed. You’ve been told by several other Hashira that you were one of his favorite topics of conversation. The image of him gushing about you to other people is as embarrassing as it is flattering.

“Y/n is so easygoing, I cherish their company!”

“Did you know Y/n makes the best rice cakes?”

“Y/n is such a fierce swordsman, I am honored to fight at their side!”

“Y/n this, Y/n that. You’re all he talks about you know,” Iguro points a finger in your face one morning.

“So I’ve heard,” you hum, hand perched lazily on the hilt of your sword, though you’re unsure of precisely why he’s telling you this. Your eyes stray to Kaburamaru, who only flicks his tongue at you, leisurely slithering down Iguro’s shoulder from his coiled position around his neck.

You’ve always known the Serpent Hashira to be abrasive and confrontational, but the sudden interest in your relationship with Rengoku was uncharacteristic. Especially since he usually disregarded your presence unless he had something to criticize. You didn’t dislike him, but you wouldn’t say that you were close.

Did he know something you didn’t? 

You try not to make assumptions based on the worries of others, but Kyojuro’s childhood friend approaching you out of the blue to tell you something like that? It makes you wonder just what sort of things Kyojuro has been saying about you to warrant such an interrogation.

Was Iguro trying to discern your intentions as a way of looking out for him? Perhaps your feelings for Kyojuro weren’t as internalized as you’d thought. 

“Is this your way of saying you’ll snap me like a twig if I break his heart?” you ask, lips curling up into a sly grin, head cocked to one side.

Heterochromatic eyes blink in surprise, and then narrow.

“You catch on quick.” 

“You can relax, Iguro. I won’t hurt him.”

“Few can be entirely sure of that. For your sake, I hope that’s the truth,” he waves you off, turning away in disinterest upon hearing your response.

The encounter leaves you with mixed feelings. Would Iguro have asked if he didn’t already know how Rengoku felt in return? It's an unsettling and gnawing feeling. Not the idea that your feelings could be returned, just the uncertainty of it all. If Iguro noticed it, why didn’t you?

“Iguro approached me earlier,” you say as you sit across from the flame-haired swordsman, currently having lunch at one of your favorite spots to eat.

“Did he now?” Kyojuro acknowledges, eyes still closed as he stuffs another bite of octopus into his mouth. His round cheeks puff out cutely, the image of a chipmunk with its cheeks full of nuts forming in your mind.

“He told me you talk about me a lot.”

“All good things of course!” he assures, seemingly unbothered by the news.

“That’s the thing,” you chuckle nervously, poking at your food with your chopsticks. Kyojuro’s eyes fluttered open, now focused on your fidgeting hands. “He seemed concerned that you had feelings for me beyond friendship.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you stuff food into your mouth to escape it, eyes focused on your plate. You can feel his gaze, but you’re too intimidated to meet it.

“Would that be a bad thing?” for once, Kyojuro sounds nervous. 

It's a subtle strain in his tone that others who didn’t know him as well might have missed. But years of close proximity have made you perceptive to the almost invisible chinks in his armor. Kyojuro was heavily guarded for being such a friendly man, always eager to lend a hand or ear when others were in distress, but quick to clam up when it came to his own problems.

Your heartbeat skips, excited and terrified. Was that a confession? Were you reading too far into things? Was the question rhetorical? All these questions well up inside until you feel like you’ll burst. 

You can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re so hard to read,” you lamented, nearly jumping out of your skin when his fingers brush yours from across the table.

“Perhaps If you looked at me, you’d have an easier time,” he laughs, and your heart already feels lighter at the joyous sound. 

The anxiety in your tummy melts into giddiness, and you demurely tilt your head up to meet his eyes. They’re crinkled fondly, pupils large, and fully fixated on yours. His golden-red eyes consume yours, inspiring your fingers to twitch against his. You can only compare such an expression to a smitten puppy. 

You suddenly feel silly for entertaining any doubts that the Flame Hashira was any less enamored than you were.

“To be completely honest, I have been interested in you romantically for quite some time now, and at a loss of how to contain such strong feelings,” he confessed, and suddenly a lot of things started making sense.

He stared at you so much because he liked you. He talked about you so much because he liked you. He let you tag along to missions he could have easily handled on his own because he liked you. Iguro approached you because he noticed.

“Then no, I don’t think that would be a bad thing at all.” You turn your hand with your palm facing upward to accept his own into your grasp.

Kyojuro’s smile widens, and he nearly shakes the entire restaurant with the volume of his declaration of, “WONDERFUL!”

“See, Obanai? I told you they just needed a little push!” Mitsuri gushes from across the restaurant, just her green eyes and the top of her head peeking over the menu.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

[hxmocrastic]

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧 | HCS

Pairing ; {📺+📖} Luke Castellan x GN!Reader

Warnings ; Yandere, Stalking, Gaslighting, Fear of Abandonment, Imminent Kidnapping, Manipulation, Inferiority Complex, Emotional Abuse. ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+

A/N ; Sorry I didn't respond directly to you anon, I accidentally posted this before it was finished and couldn't edit it 💀 But Enjoy!!

Luke is a Gaslighting, Guilt tripping, Boyfailure personified.

At first he takes up his signature friendly act and introduces himself to you first. He even offers to show you around camp !

To him, you're just so adorable. He loves how docile & compliant you are, how your sweet little chin nod's at his every word. You're just so fucking addicting, As soon as he saw you he knew he had to have you.

In order to get you alone & helpless, He'll start spreading false rumors of your parentage, Just to swoop in and shoo those pesky campers away. See? He's such a good boyfriend ! Why won't you look at him?

He'll even get you into some weaving classes, After all a sword is way too dangerous for someone like you. Don't worry about it! He knows what's best for you !

Luke will gladly take his time in wooing you. Slowly implanting little seeds in that cute little head of yours, Whispering things underneath his breath, Increasing physical contact, Even sending you gifts.

The last encounter he had with his father was a scar that will never heal, and a reminder that the gods see him and his siblings as nothing but cattle awaiting the slaughter.

Underestimated, Undermined, Luke always feels he has to go the extra mile prove himself. He thinks that in the eyes of his father he's worthless but in yours he has a purpose, He's a hero.

He'll do anything to keep up that facade, As he only wishes for you to see him in a glorified light. Isn't that what demigods fight for?? Glory,? It only makes sense that you'd love him too !

But truth is, Although he may sustain his benevolent friendly facade, He sees other's as emerging rivals. Whether it be in 'love' or Competition, He views them as competition.

All his life he'd felt powerless & helpless to the evils that robbed him of his childhood. Like his life wasn't his own, How he was always at the mercy of others whether it be the fates, monsters, or the gods themselves. He's never felt real control.

But at camp he feels like he has some control, some authority of his own. And not just of his own life but of other's too. He's finally at the other end of the stick.

Luke loves the power he has over the camp, how the girls & boys of Aphrodite cabin silently fawn at the slightest glance of his figure.

How his stare alone can send clarisse and her cabin trudging to the steps of their cabin like wet dogs. The power excites him.

But your arrival was different. He would've thought it'd be enough to constantly receive the admiration from camp but he desires more from you.

Luke doesn't just want you to favor him, He wants you to obey him. To hang on his every word. He wants you to worship him, To give him the adoration he would never receive from his bastard father.

This is where it gets dangerous. Once the Luke you knew to be a sweet and protective head counselor, He starts becoming a lot more domineering and unreasonably aggressive. And whenever you asks about, He slips back into his loving demeanor and reassures you softly that everything's alright, You're just seeing things that's all!

But you could've sworn you saw him scowling at your friends. Maybe you were just going crazy, it'd be the only reasonable explanation right? Who'd believe you if you said you heard Luke castellan speaking with another voice, right?

For your own safety, You stay quiet. You abide him and start slipping on a facade of your own. Just play along and you will be fine...

He's your hero, your knight in golden armor, Depend on him and solely on him why would you need anybody else?? Love him and only him, and just maybe your cabin mates will be safe. (Not)

#🏷️ #tw yandere #yandere pjo #yandere headcanon #yandere percy jackson #male yandere #yandere #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson hc #tw dark content #x gn reader #gn reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson

[bg-brainrot]

More than Vampiric Charms (Astarion x Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: After some banter between Astarion and Jaheira goes too far, you (Tav) take some time to remind Astarion that he is so much more than a pair of fangs.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, Blood, Blood Drunk, blood as a coping mechanism

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted for this banter in my last poll! This was a fun one c:

Word count: ~3.2k

Walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate is always an adventure with your group– a particularly fraught adventure on this day, as Jaheira and Astarion seem hellsbent on trading barbs.

It had started out playfully enough, with a snide remark from Astarion, "Oh that building used to be a delightful little sweets shop about a hundred years ago. Though I suppose the crone would remember that, wouldn’t she?”

Jaheira, used to remarks about her age, often being the one to start them, was ready with a quick quip back, “Was that before or after your hair turned gray? With my old age, I can never remember.”

Astarion visibility bit back a remark about this being his natural hair color when you glared back at both of them. “Could we focus a bit please? You two can reminisce after we’ve seen to this latest bloody basement.”

One trail of blood, a disgusting array of corpses, and a piece of clown later and the two of them were at it again.

“Jaheira,” Astarion had started in a light tone– a clear indicator that he had no intent to focus. “Have you considered taking on the role of Dribbles the clown yourself? The makeup might help cover all those pesky wrinkles.”

The druid had snickered, appreciating the comment, and shot back, “I think you would be better suited to the role, given you are already a fool.”

That time, Karlach had interrupted, “Don’t either of you dare! No one could replace this Baldurian hero.”

“Which is exactly why we’re helping to piece him back together,” you’d confirmed with a nod. “Besides, you’re both cranky enough to make the children weep.”

“Darling!” Astarion had gasped, an offended hand on his chest. “How could you say that about me?”

You’d ignored his question, instead choosing to deposit a quick kiss on his pursed lips. A soft, effective bandaid that left the man with crossed arms and a reluctant smile. 

Moments later, you were ushering the group out of the building and into the city. Insults forgotten, everyone began trudging the familiar path back to the Elfsong to clean up.

Now, along this very path, you hear Jaheira strike up a new conversation with Astarion– one that has your ears perking up, even as you continue to lead the way ahead.

“It seems that you and our leader are closer than ever,” the woman observes, a smile in her voice.

There’s a moment of silence, and you can practically see Astarion’s suspicious expression in your mind’s eye as he assesses the situation. “Yes, you could say that,” he finally replies. “What can I say? I am, after all, quite charming.”

“I am glad it is your non-vampiric charms our friend has fallen for, Astarion.” A short, thoughtful pause follows before she asks, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Astarion responds, his voice reaching a comically high pitch– one that almost makes you laugh. You want to hear this conversation more than most though, so not a sound escapes your lips. The vampire scoffs before he continues. "Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?"

There’s a clear hesitation as Astarion’s words hang in the air.

You wonder why Jaheira isn’t responding, what her expression must be– but before you can turn around to find out more, Astarion is speaking again.

“If you insist on prying,” he starts, clearing his throat a bit pointedly. “Perhaps you’d care to join us. And see how much we enjoy one another.”

The insinuation in his tone is almost enough to have you spinning around– teasing Karlach or Shadowheart is one thing, but Jaheira? Gods, you can feel the heat rising up your neck– “Why?” Jaheira snaps back. “Do you require some instruction on how the deed is done?”

“I’m sure even I could learn some new tricks from an old veteran such as yourself,” Astarion replies, mirth shining through in his tone.

Wait, is he actually inviting her?

You know you need to stop this conversation before it mortifies you any further. “Stop it, both of you!” you say, turning your head back, trying your best to keep a stern, not-at-all embarrassed expression on your face. “We don’t need the next installment of ‘Love at First Knife’ getting any more convoluted.”

There’s some grumbling from Astarion, an amused smile from Jaheira, and a chortle from Karlach, but otherwise your group makes it back to the Elfsong without tearing each other– or their clothes– apart.

__

That evening, Astarion slips away.

It’s not an unusual occurrence– some days his hunger is harder to ignore than others, on some you hadn’t found nearly enough evil to suck dry. Ultimately, he never wanted to take too much blood from you, so he chooses to forage as he has taken to calling it.

As a result, you think nothing of it at first, settling into bed after dinner with a book propped between your hands. After all, Cazador is dead, and Astarion is more than capable of taking down some of the most fearsome enemies in the city– he should take all the time he needs to himself.

But the hours pass, and Astarion has yet to return. The candles around you begin to dwindle, words begin to swim on a page you haven’t turned in quite some time, and sleep slowly but surely starts to drag your eyelids down.

It has almost claimed you when the door to your shared room at the Elfsong slams shut. You hear groans from around the room as those who were similarly drifting off to bed are shocked awake, everyone expecting yet another unwelcome visitor. You almost don’t have time to react before an armor-clad vampire lands atop of you.

You do react though, instinctively striking at the man with the spine of your book, a loud ‘thwack’ letting you know that your contact was true.

“Oof,” Astarion mutters, now fully splayed across your torso like a stretching cat. “Darling, must you be so violent?”

“Astarion?” you ask, putting down your book, shaking off the beginning throes of sleep as you realize what’s transpired. “Weapons down everyone, it’s Astarion.”

After a few affirmative grumbles from around the room, you turn your attention back to the vampire, “Are you alright? Did you get injured?”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, burying his face in your blanket, and rubbing at the spot where you’d hit him. “Nothing's the matter. Everything is perfectly dandy.”

His words slur though and something seems to be amiss. His movements are fluid, his body weight is completely and utterly relaxed onto you.

Almost as if…

“Are you… drunk?” you haven’t seen him like this since the bear he drank near the grove. When you’d asked him the question then, he’d shrugged it off– but it was certainly the closest to drunk you’d ever seen him.

“Not strictly speaking, no…” he drolls, tilting his head slightly to stare at you with one eye. His cheeks are flushed, a telltale sign of his recent feeding, and his eye is glazed over, its blissful sheen telling you all that you need to know.

“Have a good dinner, did you?” you ask, smiling down at him wearily. You can hardly fault him for indulging, especially after the couple of weeks you’ve had.

He chuckles, his one visible eye crinkling a bit. “Oh yes. A rather large bugbear. Hardly knew what bit him.”

You run a hand through Astarion’s hair, and respond, “Well done, my sweet, bloodthirsty vampire.”

Normally, such sweet words of unabashed ​​flattery would elicit a smile, a laugh, maybe even a kiss– but tonight Astarion freezes under your touch, his eye going wide before he tucks his face back into the bedding.

“Astarion?” you ask, your previous worry about injury now promptly replaced by a worry of a much deeper hurt.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, voice sounding distant.

You scratch at his scalp, a bit, trying to encourage him back toward you. “Love, you know you’re a terrible liar. What’s wrong?”

He gives a soft, annoyed huff– an endearing, drunken noise were it not for the fact that he seems determined not to look at you. And continue to crush you with the full weight of his body.

“Astarion,” you say again, with a bit more emphasis, shaking his head a little with your next scratch. “If nothing is truly wrong, I will wake up Karlach. You know she would love to see you in this state.” As if to punctuate your point, a snore sounds from a few beds over, where you know the barbarian slumbers.

“Please don’t,” he murmurs, finally turning around to look at you fully.

You’re surprised to see his eyebrows furrowed, his lips turned down in a truly melancholy frown– always an expressive man, it seems that Astarion’s intoxicated demeanor is twice as exaggerated. Cute, you think. But also concerning. “Love,” you whisper, running a hand along his face. “Talk to me.”

Astarion hesitates, his watery eyes wincing as he debates his next words. Those same red eyes show an unexpected amount of vulnerability– all that bugbear blood is keeping his expression open, his entire face a rosy hue. His mouth opens, closes, his body shifts, and he fumbles with the latches on his armor as he thinks. You simply lay there, playing with his curls until he’s ready.

When he finally speaks, his words take you by surprise.

“You don’t just like me because I’m a vampire… do you?”

“What?” you ask, eyebrows raising in disbelief. Surely, you misheard him.

“You know,” he continues, waving a hand about the air. “My vampiric charms. The fangs. The blood sucking. The mysterious allure?”

“Why in the nine hells would you think that?” You reach a hand out to grab his, tugging on it gently to try to get him to sit up.

Astarion’s eyes drift away from you, but he does sit up, legs draping over your stomach. “Just… because of something Jaheira said.”

Oh. The conversation you’d been eavesdropping on.

“Do you mean what she said earlier? On our way back to the Elfsong?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, yes,” he mutters, still not looking at you. “Though I can’t help but notice you haven’t answered my question…”

“Astarion,” you start, releasing his hand, only to place it on the slightly flushed skin of his cheek. “No, I do not only like you because you’re a vampire.” Your words are firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

His eyes meet yours again, and still you can see so much doubt, so much unmitigated fear. “Are you certain? You truly do seem to enjoy it when I bite you.”

“Well, that’s true,” you admit with a small wince. It does feel rather… good when he bites you, it would be a lie to say otherwise and, besides, you’ve told him as much before. “But that’s not why I like you, you fool.”

Astarion’s bottom lip slips into a small pout and he moves away from your hand. “You’re not very convincing, you know? Especially when you call me a fool.”

You scooch out a bit from under him, leaving your legs under his. With all of the severity in the world, you reply, “If it makes you feel better, I’m a fool too.”

“You are?” he asks, curious despite himself– easily falling for your little trap.

“A fool for you.”

The noise that escapes him is half groan, half chuckle, and his mouth pulls into a lopsided little smile that you’re not certain you would have earned were he not a bit blooddrunk. “Gods, how the hells did I fall for you?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions,” you respond with a smirk on your face. When you place a hand on his knee, the smirk turns into a small smile. “But I’m being genuine– I don’t like you because you’re a vampire. And before you ask, I don’t love you because of your vampirism either.”

He gives a small huff. “Well, Jaheira made it sound as if there wasn’t much else to care for.” An uncharacteristic admittance from him– normally he would brush off such a statement with a proud declaration of how phenomenal he is. But it seems that Jaheira’s words cut deep– and that blood has loosened his lips.

“Jaheira, despite all of her many, many years of experience–” you enjoy the full laugh that elicits. “simply doesn’t have my refined taste. There are so many reasons to like you, love. In fact, vampirism doesn’t even make the list.”

“Oh, you’re keeping track, are you?” he asks, folding his arms and body over his legs and smiling up at you.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning forward toward him. “Would you like a sampling of reasons?”

The look he gives you then is hopeful, but more than a little dread slips through in his shining red eyes. When he answers, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Only if you mean them.”

This withdrawn, unsure Astarion isn’t a common sight to you, but, like every other facet of the man before you, he’s no less lovable. So you lean forward, placing a kiss on his pale forehead, and say, “I mean them with my whole heart.”

“Then… I suppose I ought to be lavished with them," he murmurs, and you spot the blush intensifying over his cheeks, now also coloring his ears.

Coupled with his fluid, inebriated state, his heart laid bare before you, you want to scream the reasons from the roof of the Elfsong, if only for him to believe you. But, as it is, the soft snores of your companions keep your voice hushed, your face close to his as you begin.

“Let’s see… should I start with the first thing that stood out to me?”

He hums in agreement, and closes his eyes, as if preparing to listen to the sweetest tune known to the entirety of Faerun.

“Well, it started with your first lie, I think,” you start.

Astarion gives a disapproving groan, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“My dear, you said you said you had a ‘brain thing’ cornered– I hope you know the smile on my face wasn’t from confidence,” you say with a new, fond smile at the memory. “I just knew from that moment on, you didn’t much care for what others thought of you, as long as your goals were met. A kindred spirit. Or so you said that day.”

At that, he reopens his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“We’re not kindred spirits?” you ask, an unexpected tinge of hurt blooming in your chest.

“That’s true,” he says, balming the hurt quickly. “It’s not true that I don’t care what others think of me. I do. Well, maybe not everyone.” His eyes dart toward Gale’s bed and you stifle a snicker. “But I certainly care what you think of me.”

You look into his crimson eyes, a bit clearer now than when you began talking– the blood seems to be working its way through his system. His words come from a place of honesty, not a lack of inhibition.

“Then, let me assure you here and now,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. “I think–” Another quick peck on his lips. “you’re the funniest–” A kiss to his nose. “the most deft–” A brush of lips against his temple. “creative, endearing, brave–” Each word comes with a kiss along his jaw. “man I’ve ever met.”

Astarion’s eyes look at you, his face still for a moment as he considers your words. When he finally speaks, it’s a quiet, choked up question, “Oh, is that it?”

“Would you like me to keep going?” you ask, lips perched just above his eyebrow, ready for another round.

He shakes his head ever so slightly. “No– no need or you’ll be here all night, surely,” he says, posturing as best as he can while still looking at you with fearful eyes. Almost as if your candid praise is simply too much for him to bear.

It may be too much, and you’re not one to push it.

“Very well,” you say, pulling back. “But I didn’t even get to how good you look covered in blood…”

The man gives a light laugh at that, some of his nerves melting before praise he understands– his appearance is a source of comfort, one that brings him back to himself. “Oooh yes, I do look dashing in red, don’t I?” he purrs, a content smile forming on his face.

“That you do,” you assure, with your own warm look. You wish he would accept all praise this easily, but you suppose this is all you can do for now.

So little of what matters to you is his vampirism, his looks… but for a man like Astarion, for whom a kind word felt like a double-edged blade for two centuries? Well, you’re reminded that regardless of how many times you may tell him, whether now when he’s a bit fuzzy around the edges or when you’re in your cups, he may never truly believe you.

No matter, you suppose. I’ll simply keep finding new ways to show him how much I care for him…

“So Jaheira was kidding, right?” Astarion asks, sitting up and finally beginning to remove his leathers.

You nod, moving to help him remove his greaves. “Naturally. I thought you’d been enjoying the conversation, actually.”

“I had been,” he replies, thoughtfully. “But the more I remembered how sinfully you shiver under my fangs…”

He’s dodging before you can so much as flick his ear. “Excuse you. Is that any way to treat your most reliable source of sustenance?”

Astarion smirks as he leans away from you in the bed. “Oh darling, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you can’t help it.”

“Astarion–”

“Ehem!” You hear from somewhere behind you. It’s followed shortly by Shadowheart’s annoyed voice, “Would the two of you please keep it down? Some of us are trying to rest.”

If by ‘rest’ she means ‘reach the end of her copper novel’, then you suppose she’s right. Either way, you whisper back, “Sorry, I was defending my dignity.”

“What dignity?” she murmurs back. “And in case you’re wondering, you’re both utter fools.”

Oh great, she’d heard everything.

“Shadowheart, were you eavesdropping?” Astarion asks, crawling over you to glare at her from the edge of your bed. He’s half-dressed and still somewhat out of sorts, so you just lean back against the pillows and accept your fate.

“Is it really eavesdropping if I can hear it all clearly?” the cleric says, and you hear her book snap shut. “Besides, Astarion, if you really needed someone to reassure you, you should have asked me.”

“You?” he asks, incredulously. “And why should I ask you?”

“Because,” she starts, and you can hear her wicked smile in her tone. “I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that there’s no such thing as ‘vampiric charm.’ I’ve never felt less charmed in my entire life.”

You can sense Astarion is just about ready to light Shadowheart’s hair on fire, so you tug him back down from the divide. “Thank you for that clarification, Shadowheart,” you call, biting back a laugh. “And I’m starting to realize none of us really have private conversations, do we?”

“No, we do not,” you hear Gale reply from a few beds away.

With that, Astarion gives an exasperated sigh and the two of you finish removing his armor in silence.  When you’re both finally ready for bed and you whisper to him, “Goodnight.” Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll all respond, “Goodnight!”

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion is bad at feelings #tadfools tomfoolery #astarion comfort #spawn astarion

[inherdaze]

jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

9k

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over. 

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat. 

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

 You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

 “Yes.” 

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.” 

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely. 

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.” 

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death. 

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed. 

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?” 

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs. 

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky. 

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market. 

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.” 

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.” 

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around. 

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times. 

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor? 

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent. 

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back. 

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” 

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you. 

He doesn't. 

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there. 

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind. 

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived. 

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived. 

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you. 

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens. 

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think. 

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions. 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides. 

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup. 

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter. 

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well. 

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already. 

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things. 

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.” 

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second. 

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder. 

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you. 

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward. 

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven). 

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.” 

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.” 

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home. 

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass. 

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold! 

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you. 

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants. 

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.” 

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic. 

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.” 

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him. 

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too. 

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine. 

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves. 

“I’ve already forgiven you.” 

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated. 

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.” 

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that). 

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning. 

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless. 

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has. 

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do). 

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead. 

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away. 

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage. 

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.” 

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.” 

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help. 

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.” 

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.” 

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside. 

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you. 

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.” 

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively. 

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi. 

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.” 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.” 

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response. 

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean. 

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright. 

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion. 

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.” 

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.” 

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue. 

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.” 

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter. 

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.” 

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts. 

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.” 

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay. 

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.” 

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out. 

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.” 

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed. 

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way. 

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on. 

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love. 

You peer down into the pot. 

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.” 

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way. 

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.” 

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again. 

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste. 

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own. 

Your fingers twitch. 

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.” 

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes. 

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut. 

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor. 

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen. 

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.” 

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face. 

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love. 

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share. 

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable. 

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you. 

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn. 

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?” 

It’s a little loose. 

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching. 

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure. 

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you). 

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one. 

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space. 

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand. 

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door. 

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him. 

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs. 

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers. 

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.” 

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you. 

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay). 

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?” 

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.” 

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush. 

Finally, he fesses up. 

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.” 

You see Kiyoomi make a face. 

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.” 

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens. 

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?” 

The both of you choke. 

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening. 

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated. 

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.” 

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes. 

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way. 

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response. 

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around. 

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe. 

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around. 

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward. 

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole. 

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi. 

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—” 

“Miya.” 

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.” 

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush. 

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you. 

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side. 

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.” 

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly. 

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left. 

“Miya told me to confess to you.” 

Your blood runs cold. Confess…? 

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it. 

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room. 

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day. 

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously. 

“I wish you could come with me.” 

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile. 

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say. 

“Goodnight, angel.” 

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does). 

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done. 

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it. 

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy. 

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door. 

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige. 

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely. 

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.” 

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you. 

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb. 

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day. 

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in. 

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.” 

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.” 

Your mouth drops open. 

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.” 

You stay rooted still. 

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.  

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.” 

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together. 

(He wants to). 

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt. 

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth. 

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him. 

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please. 

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name. 

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in. 

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!” 

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.” 

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll. 

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you. 

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi.” 

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you. 

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!” 

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.” 

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes. 

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?” 

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again. 

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.” 

He gives an approving cluck. 

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand. 

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe. 

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around. 

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock. 

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.” 

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately. 

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips. 

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?” 

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.” 

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.” 

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love. 

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you. 

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.” 

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip. 

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!” 

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!” 

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—” 

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own. 

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #sakusa fluff

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I feel like, Young!Pathetic!Konig would do REALLY well with a Older!Lady-Cougar!Reader, She's maybe been divorced twice and looking ta maybe become widowed this time? May-haps her current hubby has wealth and power but is a few screws short of being a good man towards our poor reader, and there's that Pesky prenup that makes it so she won't get ANYTHING in a divorce...buuuttt if the bastard has a bit of an....*Oopsie doodle*.... Maybe she's looking for someone to take care of her problem, and maybe she likes this young soldier boy, whose all too happy to help with *whatever needs* she might have? Likes how desperate he is for just her hand on his arm, likes how he's on his need begging for just a *taste* Likes that she can teach him how to please a woman, how to make her moan like no lover before....Likes how willing he is to kill the man she's married too...

Asfdf my brain short circuited ❤️ I know I said somewhere that I don’t write cheating but if it’s cheating a bad man with an even worse man König….

CW: 18+ MDNI. Age difference, F!dom/M!sub undertones, praise kink, cheating (your husband is an old dick), mating press & other shenanigans, murder & mentions of blood, König is a lovesick yandere in the making.

It was just one night.

Just one night to satiate your needs because your husband for sure never takes care of them.

But then the young pup you picked off from the pub pops into your workplace next week... With a large bouquet of flowers in his hand and a box of chocolate in the other, your desperate little “detour” looks like a boy who just got laid for the first time in his life.

“König…” you sigh and pull him to an empty breakroom before all your colleagues see you’ve cheated on your beloved husband with a man at least ten years younger than you.

“You can’t be here,” you start, trying to ignore the happy, greedy stares this little—big—soldier gives you.

He’s all the equal to his alias, looking like a king in the making with those wide shoulders and that fierce stare. But his hands are shaking, he guides those eyes to the floor as he puts the gifts on the table littered with crumbs and coffee stains, switches his weight from one foot to the other once you start to tell him how it is.

He listens dutifully as you try to explain how it was only one night, that he was incredibly lovely and you had so much fun but that you can’t see each other anymore. It was wrong of you to do so in the first place, you’re married, and you’re so, so sorry... You were just so sad and lonely.

You tell him he’s a good man. That he’ll find someone special, some lovely girl to call his own. He will find someone who can give him what he wants, someone who will cover him with kisses for bringing her flowers and sweets.

You try to explain it to him even as you get slowly chased into a corner, you try to tell him what a catch he is even when you get pinned to the wall by a hard, lean chest.

You try to tell him that he’s the perfect man for some other girl even when he pulls your strings aside and bullies his cock inside you.

One minute is all it takes as he huffs and groans and fucks you against the wall, your moans and his grunts barely muffled by shirts and fists and lips and skin. There’s lipstick on his clean, white shirt after he’s done with you, teeth marks where his shoulder meets his neck, a spittle of cum on your skirt as he pulls it down with shaky hands.

“Sorry,” he murmurs in your ear. “I just had to see you. I missed you so much...”

Your cunt is what he missed, any woman could see that. Got a taste of it last weekend and wouldn’t let you leave his place at all; a small, miserable flat of 25 square meters, with burned rice on the stove and a thin, cum-stained mattress on the floor. He fucked you on that mattress, four times because on the fifth attempt to part your shaking thighs, you told this horny lad you need to go home.

“I know, big boy. I missed you too. But you need to go now,” you say to your pretty lover. Ugly but pretty, in his own way, his utter lack of cruelty is what makes him beautiful in your eyes.

“I don’t want to,” he dares to argue back and claims your mouth, kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before.

“You have to,” you moan. “König–”

“I love you.”

You’re huffing, panting into each other’s throats as you realize he’s even younger than you thought. Fell in love with your cunt so easily, this big runt, thinks it’s meant to be just because you’re wet and he’s hard.

“Don’t be silly,” you huff and look at the drowsy smile, the messy state of this lovesick man before you fight your way out of his lap.

You want to cry, wail, scream from the injustice. Where was this silly young golden retriever six months ago? Why didn’t you meet him when you were single and sweet? Now you’re trapped in an unhappy marriage with some old fool who was cunning enough to trick you into a ludicrous deal with him. The prenupt you discovered only later, after he swore that you wouldn’t have to work a day in your life and that everything that belonged to him would be yours one day. In reality, you’ve had to beg for every crumb, act the part of a trophy wife who also has to work herself to death. And he won’t even fuck you, only wants you to massage his back and his cock while you’re left all alone without love, without a single kind word.

But König never lets you go: not in a way you beg him to, no, he always shows up at your door. Sneaks into your lonely room from the window, licks you to ruin while you laugh and tell him no, fucks you three times a night, crawls under the bed when a cleaning lady almost catches you two. He shows up at cafes, restaurants, conferences, parties, everywhere where you go but your husband won’t.

He’s so reckless that you have to teach him to be more patient, more gentle. You guide his fingers and his head, even his cock, while locking your eyes with his so that he knows when he’s doing it right. You praise him for a good, unhurried fuck, cup his face and kiss him when he gives it to you nice and slow. Anyone can see he'd want to ram it in until there’s nothing left of him and you, but you kiss and kiss and kiss him until the poor boy moans and cums without permission, just from that tiny taste of intimacy and love.

He gets pets, smooches and caresses, blowjobs that leave him shaking and breathless on the bed. He looks like he has no brains left after you’re done with him, looks a little helpless when you climb on top of him and help yourself with his cock after he only just came.

He’s always up in no time, especially if you tell him he did well. Stares at you and your breasts like you’re a vision from heaven, drools on them once when you won’t let him have a lick. Mopes when you laugh at his predicament, and won’t stop brooding even when you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he’s never mad at you for long, not if you call him sweetie or your silly apple crumb, not if you let him fall asleep in your bed, partly on top of you. There’s always a wet spot on your back if he’s the big spoon, he begs you to sleep naked as he does, says it’s better for your health and then teases you with his fingers come morning, probably thinking he’s so very clever. Takes you to the theater and offers you expensive port wine and cake, tells you how to steal a car, how to shoot any gun. Gives you a hungry kiss in public when you tell him he has to act like he’s your cousin from abroad, vanishes for weeks to his training, sends letters instead of texts, and tells you he’s going to be a big boss someday.

It’s hard to imagine this serious but silly mess as an intimidating officer, not even when you know he has the size and looks for it. He’s too innocent and needy, doesn't know how the real world works yet. Thinks he’s immortal just because he’s young...

There’s a certain darkness in him, and you mistake it for the remnants of some turbulence of his teenage years, just some wrath of a boy who never got what he wanted. Who wouldn’t be a little pissed and impatient in their twenties? He probably doesn’t even know what he wants: hell, you don’t know what you want.

“Like this...?” He asks demurely when he lifts your knees to your ears and sinks his cock into you inch by inch, carefully as if it’s the first time you’re making love.

“Just like that,” you whisper as he spreads you so wide you can’t even breathe, fills you up deliciously, like no one else before. His eyes never leave you, not even when he uses your hole as a place to bury himself and all his bad memories, not even when he makes you squirt like you’re nothing but an oasis in a desert that never ends.

But you know he comes to you for other things than just that.

He comes to you for kind words, breathy praise, soft touches and ruffles of his hair. He comes to you for practice and to get his sense of self in order. He’s your pretty knight in shining armor when others have called him ugly, he’s your strong bull when others have ridiculed his disproportionate limbs. He’s your safe haven, your sunshine, your crazy, silly man, your soldier and your savior, and he soaks up your love and attention like a sponge: every drop gets gulped down like he’s a man dying of thirst. He doesn’t take sips, he doesn’t know how to, and you on the other hand don’t know how to quench the raging drought inside him, long after yours has been satiated.

You sleep like Romeo and Juliet just before their death, and fuck like rabbits in the spring. He takes you in the car, in the closet, in the toilet, in other people’s beds, even at the alley one night.

“I love you,” he always says after he has spilled his cum – it’s like a ritual or a prayer, and you always reach for the baby hairs of his neck in return, and give them the gentlest caress.

“I love you too,” you whisper one night – it just slips when you stroke his cheek. It never comes as a surprise that he gives you the most miserable pair of puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

He knows about your situation, knows enough that you’re trapped and unhappy. But you never knew he saw you as a victim. If anything, you feel like he’s the victim here. Poor boy, saving what little he has for a future with some woman who knows nothing about true love... You’re not the one for him, you’re not even a silly little sex kitten any young soldier would want to play with. You’re just some bored, abandoned wife who wants to feel something, mean something to someone. But you love him enough to know that you’ll let him go when he wants to move on. As bitter as it makes you feel, you know you’ll give him to someone younger and more beautiful, someone who will love as passionately as he does. Anything to make him truly happy.

But the next evening, König doesn’t climb in through your window. He uses the door, the inside door, and you jump from the bed and hurry to him in your nightgown, the only gift your husband ever gave you.

“I killed him for you,” he says, your soldier boy from Austria, your good, good boy with a good, big cock.

You only now see that his hands are stained in blood, and nothing shakes anymore: your wannabe sniper is as calm as ever when he confesses he’s murdered someone.

“...What?”

He comes to you and cups your face, the blood on his hands both wet and cold. You’ve never seen him so peaceful, not even after he’s had a good fuck. The boy who no one ever loved has turned into a man, but what kind of man… You shiver in his clutch, unsure if you’re about to suffer a heart attack from fear or love.

“He didn’t suffer... Much,” he says, his cracked lips only a breath away from yours. “Knives can be messy…”

You gulp while staring into the deep, dark abyss of his eyes, the innocent baby blue nearly swallowed by the darkest of all loves.

This is not how you thought things would go… You were supposed to give the old man the finger and divorce during the summer. Put your finances in order so that you can escape. Maybe fuck König on the side and see if he’s still the man of your dreams once you’re happily divorced.

Now he’s telling you you’ll marry as soon as possible, or that if you want a summer wedding, he can wait a few months… He tells you you have nothing to worry about, he won’t go to jail, not this time. He’ll take care of you now; he just got promoted. You don’t ever have to be sad again.

“Don’t worry, my love,” he says when all words have finally escaped you. “Now we can be together. Forever…”

#könig x reader #d/s dynamic #sub könig is fine with me if he tries to top from the bottom or becomes totally unhinged in order to prove his love ^^ #he's a switch he just doesn't know it

[s6ngbird]

gag reflex — felix catton ᯓ★

⊹₊⋆ warnings — nsfw, pretty much no plot, oral (f. & m. receiving), lmk if i missed anything

⊹₊⋆ pairing — felix catton x fem!reader

⊹₊⋆ a/n — sorry for the disappearance! schools been kicking my ass lately but im working on some coryo stuff rn

masterlist | bc: @cafekitsune

you had wandered around for a while, looking for felix at his halloween party, intoxicated and stumbling around 

you couldn't really differentiate the many people since everyone was dressed up in their own costumes, including yourself

most of the time if you ever lost felix in a crowd, you would just look up and see his head since he was so fucking tall

but your eyes felt heavy and you couldn't really look up, the feeling of all those sleepless nights of studying finally catching up to you at the worst time possible

you stumbled up the stairs to felix's room, getting lost a few times before finding his room and face planting on his bed, ready to let sleep overtake you 

until you hear a tsk tsk sound and look over to see felix coming in the room, adored in a police jacket along with a police hat

“what are you doing here?” you ask, confused that he wasn't downstairs and being the life of the party

“what am i doing here?” he laughed, shaking his head, “bunny this is my room remember? or are you too drunk to even remember my name?”

you groan as he collapses on top of your body, attacking your neck with kisses, the liquor still present in his breath

“oh my fucking god you weigh a shit ton!” you yell, trying to push him off but your attempts were useless as he continued to linger on your back, leaving marks and bruises that you were going to have to cover up tomorrow

he eventually goes limp, or so you think, but then he slides down your back, getting on his knees and yanks your panties down

you gasp, trying to move away from him in panic but he pulls you right down, flipping you over and silencing your protests with a messy kiss full of teeth and tongue 

he moves down, licking a stripe up your pussy, eliciting a loud moan from you as you grasp onto his hair

he takes that as the green light, not caring about how loud you are now as he devours your cunt, your juices wetting his whole chin as you moan and grip his hair, it's amazing how you haven't pulled it out yet 

his tongue fucks into you, his nose brushing your clit everytime his tongue goes in fully, adding an extra pressure to bring you over the edge faster

“you close love?” felix asked, his words creating vibrations that echoed in your pussy and that was it for you, you were pushed over the edge, moaning out his name loudly as he licked up all of your cum, praising you for being such a good girl for him

you breathed heavily , catching your breath after that orgasm, and then looked down, spotting the huge bulge in felix's pants

“can i take care of that…?” you ask him, looking up with big eyes in hopes that he'll be more likely to say yes

“go ahead doll” he says, swapping positions with you so that you were now on the ground on your knees and he was on the bed, his legs caging you in between them 

he pulled off his pants and boxers, realizing his painfully hard cock leaking precum

you stared it in amazement until felix tapped your cheek, a reminder that you were not on your knees to stare at his cock

“c'mon doll, suck my dick or i can always just shove it down your throat, which one sounds better hm?” he asks, playing with your hair as he waits for your answer

you're snapped back into reality at his words as you hesitantly start to take his cock in your mouth, licking and sucking it

you had only gave him a blowjob once and you had no idea what your were doing the whole time, so felix took control that time but you wanted to show him that you could figure it out on your own this time

his cock hits the back of your throat and you gag, forgetting about that pesky gag reflex of yours as you pulled off of him, gasping for breath

“let me just take the lead love” felix coos, wiping away your tears from the lack of oxygen

you shake your head but he shushes you, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving his cock down your throat, making you gag again as you try to gasp for air

your attempts remain fruitless as he continues to slam his cock down your throat with no remorse, disregarding your tears that have fallen down onto your legs now

he groans loudly, praising you for taking him in your mouth so well, hissing once or twice because you've accidentally put your teeth on his cock

“‘m so close, you gonna be my good doll and take all of it?” felix asks, opening his eyes and looking down at you

you're almost in a daze but he yanks on your ponytail, bringing you back to reality as your frantically nod, not even sure why you're nodding

he groans, reaching his climax and spilling his cum down your throat as you gag not only from his cock but from the amount of cum you're being forced to swallow 

once felix is sure that you've swallowed all of it, he removes his cock from your mouth, pulling on a pair of boxers and dressing you in a shirt he has laying around in his dorm and pulling you up on the bed next to you

“i wasn't too harsh, right?” he asks, pulling you in his arms and kissing your neck

you shake your head and he sighs in relief, stroking your thigh with one hand as the other holds you close

he smiles into your hair, and you slowly feel the effects of your activities overtake you until you open your eyes because felix is now muttering things into your hair. they're incoherent but this sentence is loud and clear, as if he wants you to hear,

“now all we need to do is get rid of that pesky gag reflex of yours”

#jacob elordi #jacob elordi fic #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi smut #felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x fem! reader #saltburn fanfiction #felix catton fanfic #saltburn smut #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton smut #jacob elordi fanfic

[fallingdownhell]

Could I request angst/comfort with Diluc, Ayato, Al-Haitham and Kaveh's s/o who is afraid of loud arguments, due to hearing her dad argue with her mom a lot (over dumb stuff that he gets mad about), hearing the boys angry at or arguing with someone and running to hide? And when the boys find her, she's shaking like a leaf and in tears even when they comfort her.

I really like scenarios like this. Hope I did this justice! Characters Included: Diluc; Kaveh; Ayato Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; hurt/comfort; mentions of past trauma/abuse (not from the boys); mentions of shouting/arguing; the boys are apologizing to you Word count: 2,3k words Enjoy<3

Diluc

It's quite often that he's having arguments with Kaeya. Well, not so much arguments, but rather pesky little fights and petty quarrels. You, and everyone else, were used to it at this point. That's just how it was between those two now. Doesn't mean that you like it, but there's just not really much you can do about it, either.

However, this time, it was different.

Usually, when Kaeya and Diluc fight, it's snarky remarks and sarcastic comments thrown at each others heads. It never included any shouting, loud arguing or even physical altercations.

But apparently, there really is a first for everything.

Kaeya came by at the Winery today, which in itself isn't a problem, he does that from time to time, because even if he doesn't say it out loud, you know that he probably just misses his home.

When Diluc came back later that evening as well, they started to throw comments at each other again. You had no idea, how or why it escalated to this point, but somewhere along the way, they each began raising their voices at each other and for the past few minutes, they had been standing in the middle of the foyer, shouting at each other at the top of their lungs.

When it started getting louder, you were already trying to make yourself as small as possible on your spot on the couch, being reminded of your youth, when similar things regularly happened in your childhood home.

You were coiling yourself in, hands pressed to your ears in an effort to drown out the voices, but it just didn't work. Although you couldn't hear what they were arguing talking about, it didn't help to reduce the volume of their voices at all.

And then suddenly, your eyes snapped open in shock as you heard something break, shatter, on the ground. Suddenly, memories and flashbacks came crashing back to you, and your instincts took over.

You needed to hide. Now!

With newfound fervor, you got up and ran upstairs, dashing into the bedroom you shared with Diluc. You didn't even stop to consider your options, you just rounded the bed and sat down on the floor next to it, hoping that it would sufice in keeping you hidden from prying eyes..

You had no idea how long you were sitting there on the ground, legs pressed against your chest, your hands again pressing against your ears. Your whole body was shaking like a leaf in a storm, tears were running down your face, but you just couldn't bring yourself to care about that right now.

You were sure that you were in the middle of a panic attack right now, breathing becoming more and more difficult. It felt like you just couldn't get enough air into your lungs anymore, no matter how much you tried. The memories were just too much to handle.

The sheer panic, that he would come into your room any second now, hurting you again..

Then suddenly, you feel a gentle touch at your shoulder. Your eyes snap open and you look up to see Diluc, sitting in front of you, a worried and apologetic expression on his face. He quickly retracts his hand again, not wanting to make you uncomfortable in case you didn't want to be touched right now.

He begins talking to you, calm and collected, his voice slowly breaking through the fog that has clouded your mind. The more he talked, the more you seemed to come back into reality, out of the memories of much darker times you have been trapped in.

Diluc talks calmly to you, apologizing for his behaviour, even though he knew that right now wasn't the best time to do so, but he wanted to say it anyways. He would apologize properly again, later.

Right now, he needed to calm you down again. He waited and sat with you, until you calmed down enough to the point were you allowed him to touch you again. Immediately, he pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

He continues to speak calming affirmations to you, gently brushing through your hair while you rest your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart.

"I'm sorry, (Name). I'm so sorry. I have no idea why I let things get this out of hand. I should have known better. I promise, I won't ever let this happen again. You're safe here, you're safe with me. Nothings going to happen to you. Not anymore. I won't allow anything or anyone to harm you again. I will always protect you."

Kaveh

Kaveh was well aware of the things you and your mother had to go through in your childhood. Living with an abusive father and husband can do things to someone, and he always tries his best to be understanding and supportive of you.

When you first told him about the things you went through and what you struggle with now, as a result of that, he vowed to you, and himself, to never put you in any type of situation where you could feel unsafe around him.

He wanted to be a safe space for you. Where you didn't have to fear anything bad coming your way, especially from him.

And for the most part, things were going fine. Kaveh helped you overcome a lot of things, and even when still struggling with some, he's always right by your side, never pushing you into anything, always the ever supporting boyfriend.

However, mistakes still tend to happen.

One such mistake on his part, was taking a client of his back to the house with him, to talk over some points of a new project. Kaveh had thought nothing of it, having done that a few times already.

You were home as well, offering to brew some tea for the two men so that they could discuss their work over something to drink. They agreed and while you disappeared into the kitchen, they began talking about the project.

However, talking soon turned into annoyed comments, which in turn became an argument over different view points. None of the men realised how loud they had raised their voices until they suddenly hear the sound of glass shattering on the ground, followed by a door being slammed shut soon after.

Kaveh instantly realised what had happened, knowing that he fucked up big time.

Without further explanation, he told the client to get out of the house, not paying any further attention to him. His only focus now was to find you and comfort you.

Kaveh went into the bedroom first, hoping to find you in there, curled up in the bed or something. When you were not to be found in there at all, he began to feel uneasy. He didn't want you to be alone right now. He needed to be there for you.

Frantically, he searched the entire house, until he found you in the bathroom, sitting in the corner, eyes blown wide with fear and shaking like you were standing barefoot in the middle of a snowstorm.

Quickly, he rushed to get you a blanket, knowing that you don't want to be touched directly, yet he didn't want to just leave you like this. He returned and gently tucked the blanket around your shoulders and on top of your head, creating some sort of shield from the outside world. He kept his arm around your shoulders, putting only very light pressure in it.

When that didn't seem to help, he began talking to you. He knew that telling you things to do wouldn't help you right now, so instead, he began to ramble. Telling you things about his day, what he had seen and done today, making sure that his voice was soft and calm, while he spoke in a slow manner, trying to convey to you that everything was okay, no danger anywhere near.

After a few minutes, it seemed to help, you began to calm down a bit. When he had the impression that you could properly hear him again, he nudged you to do some slow breathing excercises with him.

Slowly, you followed his lead, breathing in through your nose, and out through the mouth. He asked you to focus on certain things and slowly but surely, the panic began to subside and you could think clearly again.

When you turned and saw Kaveh sitting there in front of you, a relieved smile on his lips, you fell right into his arms, holding onto him like he was your lifeline and you couldn't afford to ever let go of him.

He returned the embrace, holding you in his arms, but making sure that his hold wasn't too tight.

Whatever it is you need of him right now, he's willing to do it. Anything, if it only makes you feel better again. He can't live with the thought that it was his fault this happened to you in the first place.

"(Name)... I'm so sorry. I have no idea what happened back there, I wasn't really thinking about it. I know that's no apology for anything, but I want you to know that this was not my intention. I promised to never make you feel uneasy with me, and yet, I broke that promise like the idiot I am. I will do anything to make it up to you again, I promise. I love you so much."

Ayato

When you had first told him about the events that happened in your childhood, Ayato was appalled by the actions of your "father". He may not know everything there is to know, but what you had told him was enough.

Enough for him to understand, why you had issues with certain things and may not be able to easily handle certain situations like others would. He didn't mind that at all. It's one of the ways that made you special. Not in a bad way, of course.

He always offered you his support, wether you want to work on your "issues" or not. He would support your decision, since it's not his place to judge or interviene. So long as you are happy with the way life goes for you, he can't complain about it, either.

However, due to this, he does tend to keep you out of matters with his work, especially when it involves meetings with people. He knows first hand that some of them can get a bit out of hand and he'd never willingly put you through that if he has anything to say about it. Which he does, luckily.

However, this time, you had told him that you wanted to be present at the next meeting he had. It was about an upcoming festival, and the organizer has asked to meet the both of you, regarding finances and other regulations.

Ayato, having worked with the man before, knew that he tended to have a short temper. So, he asked you if you were really sure about this, telling you what might come your way if you decide to participate.

You insisted, telling him that you wanted to work on yourself, not wanting to hide away from confrontations forever. Reluctantly, he agreed.

And so the next day, you were sitting next to Ayato, the organizer of the event in front of you. In the middle sat a small table with feshly brewed tea provided by Thoma. You had beed taking sip after sip while Ayato and the man discussed the finances of the project at hand.

Everything seemed to be going just fine, until it wasn't. The man disagreed with the budget provided to him, demanding more funds from the Yashiro commission.

While Ayato remained calm and collected, his usual smile on his face, the man grew more and more agitated. He began raising his voice and with every passing second, Ayato could feel you growing more uncomfortable next to him.

He tried to deescalate the situation, continuing to talk calmly to the man. However, his efforts proved to be in vain and when the man then slammed his hand on the table, that was when things got to much for you.

You flinched at the sudden banging sound, hiding your body behind Ayato in fear of this man in front of you. He reminded you so much of your father right now... He had done so terrible things to you, for much less..

Immediately as this happens, Ayato calls for his guards standing outside the room, ordering them to escort the man off the estate. He was quickly taken away and removed, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

Quickly, Ayato turned around to you, pulling you into a soft embrace, wrapping his arms around your head and letting your head rest against his chest.

He ignored the shaking of your body, ignored the tears that were staining his clothes and just focused on calming you down again. He spoke softly to you, his voice nothing more than a soothing whisper in one of your ears, while the other listened to his slow, calming heartbeat.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you try to focus on the present.

You kept telling yourself that you were safe, you're with Ayato now, not back then with your father...

Hearing Ayato talking to you through everything helped a lot, too. It grounded you and soon enough, the shaking and the tears stopped again

"Shh, it's alright, (Name). Everything's okay. You're safe here. He's gone. He's not gonna hurt you. I won't allow it. Here, take a deep breath with me, listen to my voice. It's okay. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin x reader scenarios #genshin impact x reader scenarios #diluc x reader #diluc x you #genshin impact diluc #diluc comfort #diluc x reader comfort #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh genshin impact #kaveh comfort #kaveh x reader comfort #ayato x reader #ayato x you #ayato genshin impact #ayato comfort #ayato x reader comfort

[iovetecchou]

⌜Love To Hate You ⧸ Hate To Love You⌟ 𓂃༞♡

༞ Gojo Satoru x Reader

༞ Contains...! enemies to lovers trope, implied hidden feelings, brief mention of suggestive dreams, "princess" used as a nickname for the reader, bickering, banter, implied jealousy, suggestive, making out, groping, boners (lmao)

༞ AFAB Reader.

༞ 2,329 words.

༞ Part 1/? Part 2.

Satoru Gojo was a real thorn in your side. Ever since you started at Jujutsu High as a teacher for the first-year students your superior- Satoru Gojo, has brought you nothing but headaches.

You were an aid for his class. Principal Yaga thought Gojo needed an extra hand with keeping the students on task. Your superior had a nasty habit of having last-minute field trips with his students when he didn't particularly feel like teaching. Which... was nearly every day. 

You admit you had high hopes before you met "The Satoru Gojo". Putting on your brightest smile as you introduced yourself to him for the very first time. You even bought him Zunda as a peace offering, hoping it would smooth over well with the one and only. 

But alas, he ignored you. 

Completely. 

He swiftly took the bag of goodies from your hand before perching himself atop his desk. Gojo swung his legs in a child-like manner as he began stuffing his annoyingly gorgeous face with your peace offering. Your jaw hung agape as you watched him do as he pleased. Not having a single ounce of respect for you.

 If his actions didn't prove it enough, his following words solidified it. 

"Let's get one thing straight, princess. I am in charge here, so don't make yourself too comfortable." 

"Princess..?!"

From that day forward, things were... rocky between the two of you.

He would step on your toes, sometimes quite literally; just to tick you off. Gojo spoke over you, correcting you mid-sentence when you were teaching the students. He would show up late every morning, leaving you to cover for his ass when Principal Yaga made his rounds. Among many other pesky things that would take you hours to list. 

Gojo was infuriating. Everything he did made your blood boil. But, with all that being said... why was it that he plagued your dreams each night? 

You cursed his name each morning when you woke up from a heated dream where Gojo was the star of it. He was obnoxious, loud, arrogant and cocky. So why was it that your deepest desires; even in your subconscious mind, revolved around him?

I guess the saying is true... don't hate someone too much, It might bloom into love.

But alas, you acted like those dreams were nothing but a nuisance. Facing Gojo each morning with indifference. Pretending like he didn't plague your dreams was a cakewalk, and you would guard your dirty little secret like your life depended on it. 

"Rough night, princess? You look like a total wreck!" Gojo quipped. He offered you a shit-eating grin as he swung his long legs up, crossing them atop his desk. Not having a care in the world for the papers that cascaded to the floor from his sudden action.

"Speak for yourself. Smells like you've been wearing that uniform for three days now." You sighed, placing your bag atop your desk before you took your seat. 

"I've been wearing this uniform for five days actually, if we're keeping count." Gojo snickered, fiddling his pen between his long fingers with ease. 

"That's repulsive, Gojo." Your face crinkled in disgust as you paid him no mind. All your focus shifting toward the ungraded papers on your desk. 

"I was joking, princess! You don't actually believe I'm that filthy- do you?!" He chuckled once more before his attention was brought to the door by the sound of a stern knock. 

"Nanami! Whatcha doin' here?" Gojo chimed, unmoving from his lax spot. 

Nanami cleared his throat before striding toward your desk, completely ignoring Gojo. You sat up from your chair to greet Nanami with a small smile. 

"Good morning, Nanami!" You spoke softly. You got a small glimpse of Gojo from behind Nanami's large frame as he pretended to gag himself with a pen from your gentle tone. You scowled before Nanami's words pulled you from your offense. 

"Morning, Y/N. I've been meaning to ask- would you like to go to dinner with me tonight? You've been working hard these past few months since you started here, and I'd be more than happy to treat you out." 

Nanami offered you a tight-lipped smile. You felt coy from his generous offer, stammering out your quick response. "Of course, I would love to! That's so kind of you, Nanami." 

Your smile was wide as your eyes averted from Nanami's striking gaze. "It's the new place that opened up in town a few weeks ago. Meet me there when you finish up here for the day. I'll be patiently waiting for you."

With that, Nanami took his leave. He spared one last glance at you from the doorway before descending the hall. Gojo was now sitting upright. You could feel his gaze on you even past the blindfold. "Looks like someone's got a hot date tonight." He scoffed. 

You rolled your eyes at your superior's childish musings. "It's not a date! Nanami is just being friendly. Quit assuming that, it's weird."

You went back to grading your student's papers. The thought of this night actually being a date with Nanami now plagued your brain.

"It's totally a date," Gojo muttered under his breath as his palm rested on the side of his cheek, supporting his head. 

"So what if it is? Why does it matter so much to you anyway?" You snapped. Your head shot up as you now glared at him furiously. It was only eight in the morning, and he was already getting on your nerves. 

Gojo stood, turning away from you. He began writing today's lesson on the chalkboard, not daring to answer either of your questions. His reaction took you off guard for sure. Gojo always had to have the last word, so why was he clamming up on you now? 

You didn't have the chance to ask him again before your students began rushing into the classroom. You figured you would drop it anyway. Focusing on class today was more important. 

The day zipped by like every other, and Yuuji was the last to leave as usual. Waving goodbye with his sunny smile that you cherished. You finished up the last of your paperwork for the day before checking the clock, that hung above Gojo's desk. It was getting late. Maybe if you left now, you would have some time to change before meeting Nanami. 

"Let me drive you home." Gojo's voice pulled you from your train of thought as you pulled your coat on and slung your bag over your shoulder. 

"I'd much rather take the train." You sighed, making your way to the door. "Turn off all the lights and lock the door this time! Principal Yaga will have both of our asses if you don't."

You descended toward the elevator, not caring to say goodbye to your perpetual pain-in-the-ass superior. You began planning out an outfit in your mind, overthinking if you should go casual or not. But just as you were about to press the ground floor button, Gojo snaked through. He offered you a sly grin before slotting himself behind you. He reached over you, taking the liberty of pressing the button.

"I'll admit, I'm a little hurt you didn't wave goodbye to me, princess." His breath tickled the shell of your ear from where he leaned forward slightly behind you. You felt a chill run down your spine from the proximity, whipping around to face him before shoving him back slightly. Having him invade your senses like that was dangerous.

"Don't be a baby. You know I have plans tonight." You glared daggers into the tall man standing before you. Tapping your foot in annoyance the more he tested your patience. 

"Plans, huh? Don't you mean your hot date with the charming Nanami? What a dashing prince he is, perfectly suitable for a princess like you."

"You're a weirdo- and stop it with that nickname. I don't like it." You huffed. Crossing your arms over your chest, still glaring at his annoyingly perfect face. 

"Oh, but calling you princess is the best part of my day. You know why?" Gojo trailed off, stepping closer to you. You could feel his intense gaze on you even past his blindfold as his chest came flush against yours. Your arms going limp at your sides.

"...Why?" You genuinely were curious, but your response only seemed to make Gojo's grin widen. 

"Because watching you pretend that you hate it when you secretly love it is entertaining, princess."

Your blood boiled at his response, and you could feel yourself heating up inside and out. You brought your hands up to beat on his chest, but he grabbed your fists before you had a chance. Gojo pulled your balled-up fists closer to his chest, holding them tightly. 

Before you could process it, Gojo took both of your fists between one of his large palms. His other hand pressed a tricky button on the elevator, causing the whole contraption to stop. 

"Gojo- what the hell did you do that for?!" You were furious at this point. Trying with all your might to free your hands from his grasp, but to no avail. 

"Princess, what are we doing?" His voice lowered an octave, seeming more serious than you've ever seen him before.

"What the hell are you talking about?" You knit your eyebrows together in confusion, still attempting to free your hands. 

"Us, I'm talking about us. I'm tired of playing this game." Gojo spoke calmly, bringing his face even closer to yours. 

"You mean us hating each other?" You scoff, trying to avert your gaze from his face. The proximity was causing you to feel butterflies, which you couldn't help but internally scold yourself for. 

"Do you really hate me, princess?" Gojo sounded almost sad when he uttered those words, pulling your gaze right back to his annoyingly handsome face. 

You stammered for a moment. Shaking your head in confusion before you whispered, "N-No, I mean... I don't know. Do you hate me?" You weren't sure what compelled you to ask him those four little words. But they were out in the open, no taking it back now. 

Before you could process it, Gojo closed the small distance between you both. His lips gently brushed over yours as he finally released your hands from his grasp. Expirementally, his lips captured yours. Gojo's large palms came down to smooth over your sides as he deepened the kiss. 

Your eyes were blown wide from the sudden affection coming from the man who plagued your dreams and tormented your days. But you couldn't deny that it felt good, that kissing him felt right. Gojo gasped against your lips as your hands came up to tug at his snowy tufts of hair. 

This gave Gojo the confidence to trail his hands lower. His palms caressed the sides of your thighs before hoisting you up. On instinct, your legs wrapped around his waist. "Hah..." You let out a small whine as your back collided with the elevator wall. 

"Oh my god..." Gojo groaned deeply, letting his kisses trail down your jaw and to your neck. 

"W-What...?" You mindlessly questioned as you threw your head back. Completely lost in the pleasurable feeling of Gojo marking up your neck. 

"That sound you just made. So heavenly, princess." Heat pooled in your core from his honest confession. Knowing your muffled whine had such an effect on him caused pride to flood your chest.

His slender fingers felt so hot against the fat of your ass as he kneaded the flesh with fervor. His pelvis was flush against yours, and you couldn't help but gasp at the feeling of his crotch pressing against yours. All of your fantasies were finally coming to fruition. If it wasn't for how real this all felt, you would have assumed this was just another one of your dreams. 

"Hey, you guys okay in there?" 

A gruff voice coming from the intercom built into the elevator pulled a gasp from your lips. You hurriedly pushed Gojo away as you found your footing. "Yeah, all good in here. Sorry! Must have pressed the wrong button." 

Gojo lied through his teeth as he swiftly pressed a button, putting the elevator back in motion. You could hardly look at him as you adjusted your uniform, trying to fix your disheveled state. 

"Did that answer your question, princess?" Gojo's words caused more heat to swirl in your tummy. 

Oh, it answered your question alright. It's safe to say his little show of affection did more than just answer it.

You zipped right past him the moment the elevator stopped at the ground floor. You felt too embarrassed to say anything more at that moment. But more than that, really. You felt as if you didn't leave now; you wouldn't have been able to resist him. 

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you stormed out of the school building and toward the train station. How were you supposed to face Nanami after this? Especially if he thought this was a date. Gojo was a real prick for planting that seed in your head and then kissing you fervently the same day.

As your mind ran rampant, Gojo still lingered in the elevator. He slumped to the floor the second his back hit the wall. His slender digits caressed his lips. He could still feel the warmth of your skin against his plush mouth. His heart pounded in his chest, as he recounted every detail of what transpired only moments ago. Not helping to alleviate the painful tent in his pants in the slightest. 

All Gojo could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss you again, to make you his and his alone. After finally getting a taste of you, there was no way in hell he would give you up now. Gojo was determined to win you over. No matter what it would take.  

#gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x reader smut #gojo fluff #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jjk fluff #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[inmaki2]

noctyx’s reaction to their s/o being a virgin

req . pairing : noctyx x f!reader .

smut mdni . est 1.6k wc .

warnings : unprotected (wrap b4 tap), pretty soft.. just virginity loss, size/bulge kink

i am so srry for how long this took but pls enjoy!!!!!

alban knox

thinking your boyfriend was as pure as you — perhaps even more so — you felt no shame in announcing that it’d be your first if the heated make out session at hand went any further

boy, were you wrong

as soon as you press a hand to alban’s bare chest, whispering how ‘you’ve never gone this far before’, he couldn’t stop the hungry groan that left his lips

being more on the subby side, alban was not expecting that he might have to take control for your first time together, but he wasn’t complaining

“are— are you serious? we can stop here if you want, no pressure.”

even if his cock is practically screaming for some attention, he’d never push you into something you aren’t ready for

but when you shake your head, mumbling that you want it while gazing up at him with such desperate eyes, poor boy almost cums in his pants

biting his lip, he watches you rub your thighs together impatiently. “okay, lets— lets get these off first, babe. is that alright?”

he.. isn’t the most confident dom but he’s trying! more service top than anything

once you’re bare in front of him, he spends a good five minutes just peppering you with kisses and feeling you up

he just wants to go all out in foreplay in fear of you not being fully comfortable yet, but with how long he takes you’re pretty much begging him to get a move on

“albannn.. please, just touch me..”

he grins, stomach flat on the bed as he sucks a mark into your thigh, “where do you want me, baby? here? or here?”

you gasp, feeling a single digit run up your folds, sinking inside for a moment before moving up to your clit

“geez.. you’re so fucking wet and i barely did anything.”

soon he’s massaging the bud with his thumb, a cat-like tongue pushing past your walls and releasing a strangled whimper from your lips

meanwhile, alban is doing everything in his power to not flip you onto fours and get to it because why do your moans sound so heavenly ?.??

luckily you’re just as needy by then, reaching down to pull on his brown locks pleadingly. “need you to put it in now, please. m’ ready, alban. i promise.”

and he thought he couldn’t get any harder …

this boy is soft down to the very last minute though, so he ends up holding your hand the entire time he pushes in, sucking your tits messily as a distraction

“alban.. hurts. s’too big.” he feels kinda bad for the way he gets impossibly more turned on by those words

“don’t worry, it’s gonna feel really good soon, i promise. just keep your eyes on me, princess.” you nod, glancing down to watch as his pesky fangs gnaw into his lip

he locks your legs tighter around his slim waist, thrusting extra slow at first to gauge your reaction

due to his lengthy foreplay you were fine, only a slight burn from his sheer size remaining

“shit shit— can i speed up, please? you’re squeezing me so tight..” soon you’re gonna need to grab the sheets because he is not slowing down once he starts

“look how well you take me, m’so proud.”

“this cunt was made f’me, right? say it please, please..”

alban is extremely vocal, whining every single time you clench around him, so a great method is kissing to shut the both of you up

he’s definitely not the best at self control, may end up cumming early because you just feel so good and warm :(

“‘m sorry, i couldn’t hold it, please cum for me baby.. i love you..” he’s so cute,, will overstimulate himself just to make sure you finish off too!

even by the end of it, if you’re wanting more he could probably go another few times knowing his stamina

but please be prepared for a very long cuddle session after,, no escaping cat boyfriend for a good hour at least

all in all a very easygoing experience; cum whenever you want, touch wherever you want (please scratch his back and pull his hair harder at that)

we love our soft switch cat boy

fulgur ovid

he just looks at you with such a surprised expression, feeling honoured to be the first one to touch what’s rightfully his

“no need to worry sweetheart, i’ll take care of you, alright?”

however, while fulgur would normally love initiating touches, he’ll leave it up to you to decide when you’re ready

and the night you come over to his desk and whisper how bad you want him, he’s already shutting his pc down

“kiss me, pretty girl.”

you don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that “c’mon, don’t be shy. if you can’t even give me a kiss, i dunno how i’m supposed to have you riding my cock later.”

with that, your lips meet his while fulgur pulls off your garments one by one, a small smirk rising on his face as he gently pushes you to his bed

“already look so gorgeous underneath me like this. can i touch you?”

fulgur is easily the slowest with foreplay out of all 3, probably giving you about two orgasms with just his fingers and tongue before even taking his pants off

however, it is quite reasonable considering how girthy and intimidating his length is, visible by pressing through the outline of his boxers

even so, you attempt to return the favor by going down on him too, quickly being stopped by fulgur’s hands cupping your cheeks

“another day, sweetheart. this is about you,” he declares, pressing a quick kiss to your lips

a gasp later escaping your mouth as he runs the tip up and down your entrance before circling your clit

he has you lying in mating press, his large hands press your thighs to your chest, bent in half rather embarassingly

that was the least of your concerns, though. “i don’t- fulgur, i don’t think that can fit..” you stammer, the leaking, angry tip practically glaring at you

he grabs your hand for support, making comforting eye contact once he gently pushes through. “i’ll make it fit, princess. try to relax for me, alright?”

rubs your clit extra quick to distract you from the stretch, bottoming out rather expertly before waiting for your signal to move

fulgur loves praising you for anything and everything, leaning down to press a quick kiss in your lips after you tell him you’re ready

“such a good girl, look how well you’re taking me. shit, so fuckin’ proud.”

fun fact if you can keep your eyes open through his thrusting, you’ll find out about his raging bulge kink

his eyes just keep going from your pretty face to the pretty outline of his dick in your lower stomach T-T

“can you feel me up in your tummy angel?” when you nod, he can’t help but smile proudly. “filled up so well, aren’t you? gonna cum just for me?”

“mhm.. faster, fulgur please.” “greedy girl..” he lets you get away with whatever you want just this once~

he’s also the best at holding off his orgasm, only allowing himself to release once you have

coaxes you through it the whole time, too. “that’s it, let go for me, darling. doing so fuckin’ well, taking this dick like a champ.”

that has you smiling as you finish, something only fulgur could make you do

once you’ve both recovered, your boyfriend will be quick to rush over and get a towel, cleaning you up extra carefully

aftercare king,, asks if everything was okay for you, if you want him to run a bath or something to eat

if not, he hops into bed with you, spooning you extra close

an ideal first experience fs, hopefully you don’t mind if he’s a bit less gentle next time riiight c:

sonny brisko

for once sonny was being bold; plain white tee thrown haphazardly off the bed as he hovers over your body with his own, a lustful haze shadowing his pupils

he was completely in the moment, all shyness washed away as he reaches down to pull your own shirt up

but as soon as you take hold of his wrist, he freezes, moving off you.

“sonny, it’s-“ “shit, i’m so sorry i- i thought you wanted to-“ “sonny!”

then you proceed to explain how you do in fact want him, just that you’d never experienced something like this before

but then he just

“oh, really? me too!” your eyes widen, watching a shy grin appear on his flushed face. “i was kinda just going with my gut, but i don’t really know what i’m doing..”

(don’t forget this man has a 80-90 rice purity after all)

knowing that your boyfriend had around the same amount of experience as you increased your confidence and comfort levels, evident in how swiftly you flipped over so that he was the one lying below you

“we can learn together, then.” pulling your top off, you watch as sonny’s eyes dart down to your breasts, purple eyes darkening as you move his hands up to fondle them

“they’re so soft..” he mumbles, completely entranced while you’re busy unzipping his trousers

you’ve always wondered how your cute, innocent boyfriend would react to such ecstatic pleasure, and you were ready to find out tonight

“can i suck you off?” it was strange hearing such vulgar things from your pretty lips T-T

“uh,” his cheeks redden, nodding sheepishly, “if you want to i’d- i’d like that.”

let’s just say getting head might be one of his new favourite pastimes

.. the sound of you choking and struggling to take him due to his size makes him more than a little turned on

knowing it was your first time giving head, he tried extra hard not to buck his hips up: letting you decide your own pace with a pale hand tangled in your hair

“mmph, fuck! suck a lil’ harder, baby.. so good..”

like fulgur, sonny has decent self control and quickly pulls you off when he feels his orgasm approaching

“gotta save my cum for when i’m inside you, right?” then he sends you the most innocent smile.. :sigh:

he also has surprisingly delicate yet long fingers, which he puts to good use in foreplay (he even managed to pull an orgasm out of you in record time.. he was proud but maintained a cool demeanour)

though he wanted to return the favor of head originally.. you both found yourself getting desperate for more

soon enough you’re straddling him, thighs propped on either side of his with your middle hovering just over his

the position was sonny’s idea, claiming that riding him gave you the option to control your own pace

but even with him fingering you, it was a slight challenge

“shit, why’re you so big?” while other men might get happy by such a question, sonny blushes furiously

“sorry..” he replies, “you’re doing great babe. take your time,” he reaches a hand down to massage your clit, the other caressing your side softly

once he’s completely bottomed out and you start moving, he showers you in praising kisses, whispering how well you’re doing in your ear

“fuuuck, so tight and warm..” his eyes are half closed, sweat sticking to his bangs as the sound of skin slapping fills the room

he fills you up perfectly, but the burning in your thighs only worsened after a while, forcing your pace to slow down

“need help, baby?”

he barely waits for you reply, already snapping his hips up and sending waves of pleasure through you

since it’s his first time as well, he may orgasm early.. but your boyfriend is determined to ensure you do too and will handle the overstimulation (semi) easily!

the blonde watches as your eyes roll back from pleasure, and this time he can’t help but proudly chuckle, “that face says you’re already a slut for my dick. must be close, huh?”

his moans almost overtake yours, nails digging into your hips painfully, “c’mon, cum for me y/n. say my name too.. fuck—“

he lets go as soon as you do ‘cause truth be told, poor boy was struggling extra hard to not cum before you again..

but then as your basking in the afterglow he proceeds to collect his release off your stomach, then lick it right from his finger

“sonny, what the fuck?” “i was curious!”

he’ll probably ask what you need for aftercare, definitely after carrying you bridal style to the bathroom to pee

and maybe round two in the shower??? :nervous sonny smile:

if u enjoyed, reblogs + comments r appreciated!

© nkox on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

#nkox​¿ #nkox reqs #nijisanji x reader #noctyx x reader #noctyx smut #alban knox x reader #fulgur ovid x reader #sonny brisko x reader #noctyx fics #nijisanji imagines #nijisanji fics #nijisanji smut #vtuber x reader #vtuber smut #luxiem smut #noctyx fluff #noctyx imagines #luxiem x reader #alban knox #fulgur ovid #sonny brisko #nijisanji

[forcheol]

౨ৎ oranges — csc

synopsis seungcheol peels you oranges... pairing seungcheol x fem reader genre fluff word count 0.5k hani’s notes cus i know this man would do it🥹 if you like my work, please consider reblogging or commenting because it motivates me sm rather than just liking 🩷

“doll,” seungcheol nudges you softly, “here.”

you tear your eyes away from the tv screen to look at seungcheol’s face who gestures to his hand with his eyes, eyebrows raising slightly.

in his open hand sits a peeled orange. it’s peeled so perfectly that it actually hurts, there’s none of those pesky piths on the orange segments and no seeds which you had mentioned to seungcheol that you preferred oranges without seeds and ever since, he’s only brought home clementines or any other types of seedless oranges.

“i didn’t…?”

seungcheol smiles softly, “i know you didn’t, but i also know how you like snacking on oranges while we watch our show.”

you think you might burst with all the love you have for the man before you. he peeled it without you even having to ask.

laughing at his witty statement, you take the orange from his hand and whisper a quiet ‘thank you’ before taking his hand in yours and bringing it to your lips for a kiss. a stamp of gratitude.

that’s when you notice it. the free edge of his nails are a tinted yellow-orange colour, like the peel of the orange he had ripped off so carefully that it did not break off at any part.

“hey,” you start, “your nails are stained.”

seungcheol pulls his hand away to take a look and he laughs, “really? i didn’t even realise that.”

“don’t peel these next time, your nails are orange now.”

he just stares at you for a few moments, so lost in your worry-filled eyes.

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth, filled with amusement because you were so adorable to him. the way you were concerned about his nails staining, he could kiss you senseless right then and there.

“sweetheart, i’d peel hundreds of oranges even if it meant that my nails would get stained in this way every time.”

oh.

oh.

his comment has rendered you absolutely speechless. you fall still for what feels like ages, trying to process his sickeningly sweet words — you might have to see a dentist after this.

your mouth opens then closes again, unable to get a single word out. blood rushes to your cheeks and you can feel them become warmer and warmer the longer you stare into seungcheol’s alluring eyes.

you don’t think you can hold it back any longer, so you place the orange on the coffee table and throw yourself onto seungcheol, tightening your arms around his neck.

the vibrations from his throat as he laughs transfer onto your body and you press yourself into him more. saying that you were flustered from his comment would be an understatement. you were more than flustered and so in love with choi seungcheol.

“has my sweet girl gone all shy?” he teases and you hide yourself further in the junction between his shoulder and neck.

as you’re shaking your head ‘no’, he laughs again, one large hand going to stroke the side of your head. the tip of your ears are hot to his touch and now he knows for sure that you’re shy and a blushing mess.

seungcheol pulls away from the embrace and looks at you with ‘heart eyes’. when you go to hide your face again, he stops you, hands going to either side of your face and lips pressing against your cheek.

“oh, my silly girl,” he follows your avoiding eyes, “what am i ever going to do with you? hm?”

also guys look....that penguin is so him in the picture i put below, i'm sobbing...T__T

#hani writes! #hani writes: csc #hani writes: svt #caratsland #scoups #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #scoups imagines #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, captivity, possessive behavior, non - consensual touching, hinted past stalking, hinted non - con, i keep making fairy tale references kfjhks My ko - fi <3

You actually feel calm now, almost at peace - although you can never be truly peaceful in the forest, you guess this is as close as it can get. You flip through the pages of the book, scanning the fireplace with the corner of your eye. It needs more wood, but it still keeps the cottage nice and warm. You tug at your big fluffy sweater - and think about just how domestic, how cozy this scene would be if you couldn't hear his footsteps creeping up behind you. You clear your throat and clutch the book closer to your stomach, trying to ignore him - hoping he'll go away if you pay him no mind. And just like the last few times, he sticks around like mud.

"Are you reading those fairytales again?" Raven calls out mockingly, the click of his tongue teasing your ear. He grasps your shoulders lightly, trying to take a peek at your book from behind the chair. You try to close it, but his hands quickly find your wrists, holding them in place. Now hyper - aware of his chest pressing against your back, you give in and let him look as his body heat spreads to your neck. "Such a pretty illustration, isn't it?" He hums to himself, a fox - like grin ruining his delicate features. When you don't respond, he just keeps going. "The knight kills the monster and rescues the princess." He reads the caption under the drawing, playing curious. "They live happily ever after." He flips the page. "The end." He mouths, averting his gaze.

You clench your fists and try to count to ten before you say something you will regret. You don't know why or how, but just one look at his face is enough to set you off nowadays. And anger is a losing battle - anger has you laying across his knees with your panties in your mouth, muffling your pained cries he likes to pretend are moans as he paints your butt red. So you shut up and bide your time.

"How sweet." The man chuckles with malice, quickly turning towards you just like a snake would curl around an unsuspecting little mouse. "I guess life really imitates art. Just like you and me." He observes with a self-satisfied smirk, reaching to light his cigarette. You hate when he smokes inside the house - the nicotine fume sticks to the walls for hours and you start choking and coughing, but he shows little concern for your heath; not that it's a huge surpirse to you.

"What do you mean?" You raise one eyebrow, hoping to at least take your mind off the nasty, overwhelming smell. If he sees your unease, he doesn't mention it, choosing to inhale even deeper, with his full chest. "You're the pretty damsel in distress." Raven explains calmly, charcoal eyes sinking into your vision like claws. It makes you feel naked, vulnerable - dissected to your very molecule. "And I am your knight." He lets his sharp teeth reflect in the dim light. "I saved you from those pesky insects who kept sulling you." You cringe at the way his tongue piercing drags against his canines. Track - track. "Aren't you glad I removed those obstactles for ya?" He gives you a crooked, sarcastic smile. "I think your hero deserves a little reward for all the trouble he went through just for you."

You blink away the tears as you are forced to remember it all in one breath. The police sirens - the investigation. The blood on your family's threshold. The used condoms hanging on your door for all neighbours to see, and the thousand messages calling you ugly names for months on end.

"You're no hero." You mumble under your breath, digging your nails deep into your palms - desperate to keep your tongue behind your teeth. But he hears you - he always does, and he just nods in agreement, coming close. Coming to take you.

Raven stands before you, hovering over you with one hand on the ashtray and the other tilting your chin up so you'd have no choice but to look at him and him alone. "Perhaps you're right." He admits, taking a puff off his long cigarette and blowing it in your face right after - simply in love with the way your eyes narrow in frustrated defiance as you wave away the thick smoke. "Perhaps I am not the hero, but the monster. The dragon." He laughs to himself, stubbing out the burning fag. You don't know what it is that he finds so funny, but you wish you knew so you could laugh along instead of crying.

He cages you in against the sofa, causing you to press even harder against the soft backrest. The message is clear - you'd let the house consume you before you let him as much as kiss you.

"It fits the story nicely, don't you think?" The man remarks, playing with a strand of your hair gleefuly just like a child would. You assume he derives some sick pleasure from touching you so casually - from caressing you, petting you, holding you. It's not even sexual, but it always shakes you to your core, and maybe for him that's the best part - where you can't go anywhere, but in his arms.

"Huh?" You break from your thoughts, growing confused. "Your analogy." He explains while still all over you. "It makes sense. I fought for you, and I won you fair and square." His eyes light up with the ferocity of a hunter. "I wanted you so I took you like the greedy bastard I am. I have no regrets - and if that makes me a villain, then so be it. I will burn the world down if it means you'd be all mine." His fist wraps around your loose locks, almost gentle, but not quite. There is something unnatural in his smile - you can't help, but imagine blood dripping from his chin. "But there is something your magic tales get wrong." Raven whispers diabolically, snapping his fingers. Everything goes dark - and his coat slips down on the floor.

"W-what?" You ask, shaking like a leaf - both afraid and deadly curious. You try to sharpen your senses, but you remain blind to his shadow - and the way it moves right between your legs, positioning them around his hips. You feel his manhood prod at your pubic bone, and you heart sinks to your stomach. "The ending." Your captor mutters, pushing you on your back, and you curse the electronic chair when it goes all the way down with little fight. "The moment when the cards are on the table..." He all but tears off the first button of your shirt. "And the princess is all alone with the monster. Face to face - with nowhere to go."

His tongue is hot on your neck - you try to push him off, but he pins down your wrists with feral force, growling like a wild beast. "And this time no one is coming to save her."

#yandere #male yandere #yancore #yandere smut #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader