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americaswritings · 5 months

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Voices of Roses and Ruin | Part III

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of killing, mentions of torture, Coriolanus being himself

Summary: Coriolanus realizes he's still a part of the Capitol's games and that your life is the prize.

Words: around 3k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: I never expected this to turn into a story, but here we are! I really hope you enjoy it!! Also I'm halfway through the book now and planning to watch the movie (in English then) again afterwards! I'm so excited!! :)

If you have ideas for Coriolanus oneshots I would love to hear from you (or if you just feel like ranting about the movie, the world of Panem, the characters, Tom Blyth...lol)

Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

All Coriolanus had wanted was to follow you that night.

Seeing you in the arena had been painful. Watching them use his voice to torment you had been worse. And thinking he would never see you again had topped it all.

But watching you walk away from him? That was a new kind of pain.

Everyone left Coriolanus life. First his mother and his little sister. Then his father had followed. All he had left were the Grandma'am and Tigris, but it didn't feel that way with them so far away.

But here he could have you, if he allowed himself it. And God how he wanted to. His days as a peacekeeper were dull and lifeless, but you had brought colour and a flicker of hope into his life.

There had never been the choice between you and the scholarship, but suddenly there was and he didn't know how he could decide between the path he had always firmly believed was his and the girl he had never seen coming.

But there too many reasons holding him back. You belonged to different worlds. That would never change.

It was a cruel kind of knowledge.

Every time he tried to forget about you he awoke sweating. You haunted his dreams.

The look of betrayal on your face as you had realized he would return to the capitol. That even after he had admitted they had used his own voice to manipulate you, he would still go back and pretend it hadn't happened. That he was still the same boy.

He dreamed about your body. About sacred moments of peace and quiet the two of you, the outside world forgotten. About your laugh and the spark in your eyes and that you would fall asleep and wake up in his arms.

He dreamed about every scenario involving your death his brain seemed to come up with. Death in the arena. Death because he had manipulated your chances. Death because he had let you go.

When he heard Tigris voice for the first time since he had been sent to the districts over the phone the relief almost made him cry. He wished he could tell her about his conflicted emotions, but he couldn't risk anyone overhearing him.

Besides, he didn't know if he could ever admit to her the true extent of his feelings. It was embarrassing that of all people he had fallen for a weak girl from the district.

But you were so much more than that to him. It was why it had been so painful to watch you go. Because until that moment some part of him seemed to have hold onto the improbable hope that you would start a life in the capitol together.

As the winner of the games he had assumed it could be possible. That people respected you enough that he could be seen with you and that you wouldn't be forced to return to your life of shreds and dirt.

But you had shown him that this was no future you could ever imagine. And just as you weren’t willing to change for him, he couldn’t do it for you either. Even though you loved each other your love was not enough.

But then why did it hurt so much?

"Everything okay?", he asked Tigris to distract himself from his thoughts. It was another worry that made his heart heavy, the one for his family. Their money was still as tight and with him gone there was not much he could do for them now.

He earned too little, could barely pay for his own foot and housing. Was this how the people in the districts felt? Stuck in a constant loop of worry, fear and work that would never pay off? Unlike them he would never accept such a fate. Unlike them he didn’t belong here.

"We're okay." He heard an edge to Tigris voice, "but there's something you should know about."

His posture stiffened and he gazed around, making sure no one was there. "What is it?"

"Everyone's talking about you and the girl in the capitol." His fingers clenched around the steel. "What are they saying?"

"Never in the history of the games did the gamemakers ever do what they did there with your voice." "He was aware of it, so he waited for her to elaborate. "But why use your voice? The voice of her mentor. Why not someone from her family, someone she cares about?"

To hear Tigris say that you didn't care about him, that he was nothing more than your mentor hurt, but he pushed the anger away. "She doesn't really have family left. And she trusts me. So it makes sense."

"Then why did they only use it on her? Why didn't they try to manipulate anyone else?"

He let out an impatient sigh. "I don't know. They didn't tell me they would do it. But it was our task to make our tributes trust us and I was the only one who succeeded."

"But they didn't, Coryo."

Momentarily he forgot what he was about to say and took in a breath. What was Tigris implying? "It was your task to be a good mentor. Get the people's attention and make them root for her. But making her trust you was your decision."

"Didn't you tell me I should do it?" He sounded tired and accusing and he knew his cousin heard it in his voice. "Yeah, but I didn't expect-", she trailed of and he waited for her to continue, frustrated when he realized she wouldn't.

"She really trusts you, you know that, right?" He was growing more irritated with this conversation by the second. "I think I did a good job, if that's what you're asking."

"My God Coryo, that's not what I mean!" She exhaled loudly at the other side. "We all saw how scared she was for you. For her mentor. For someone from the capitol."

Her words were another reminder how different the two of you were. He hated it.

"We all saw that you care about her too. You kept visiting her. You two talked so much even when the cameras weren't near and everyone who was in the same room saw how terrified you were for her in the arena. And then, against all odds, she wins and you disappear without another word."

She was speaking softer now, probably expecting the defensiveness he felt rising in him. She knew him well. "They gave me a task. I did what I had to. That's all."

Tigris was silent for a moment. "Even if it were true, you did your job a little too well. The people are obsessed with it! With you and her, the idea of a love story between a mentor and their tribute. A Snow and the girl from ashes."

Tigris was speaking slowly, like she was afraid she was overwhelming him with the news and her tone was grave and serious. It was the polar opposite to the hope he felt.

It wasn't the narrative he would have chosen, but a story meant attention and attention meant relevance. If it was true and Tigris was right, they couldn't keep him hidden in the districts much longer.

People wouldn't just accept the two of you together, they would demand it.

His lips curled into a smile. He could have never imaged a better way to get out of here and to convince you to come with him. What reason did you have to say no now?

"Then why do you sound so fearful?"

Tigris took in a deep breath.

"It's the people that love it. You know how they are, always looking for gossip and a good story to keep them entertained enough to forget about their own miserable lives. But-", she paused, "the people are not the capitol. Everyone who's got something to say in Panem hates it. It sends the wrong message, Coryo. That the people from the capitol and the people from the district could be equals. The whole point of the hunger games is to demonstrate supremacy and power. They don't want a girl from a district turning into a star and having a sweet little romance with one of their own."

His smile faded. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and suddenly the room was too small, the walls to high. With each second it was getting harder to breathe. The uniform- he needed to get out of this damn uniform!

"Coryo?"

Tigris voice sounded far away as he struggled between losing himself to his fears and keeping a composed and prideful image.

He had realized the situation he was in was far from ideal before, but having the capitol, the very people he needed to impress as his enemy could- no would destroy his whole life!

And yours too.

The future he had just seen before his eyes ruined by words of love.

"What do you think they'll-", he still couldn't catch his breath. He needed these peoples on his side, not against him. How had he ended up here, so useless and powerless?

No! He needed to keep it together! He would get through this, like he always did. He would find a way to make this work for him or if there was none, he would come up with something else...

He was smart and his name still meant something. Snow always lands on top.

"I don't know what they’ll do." Tigris answered his question without him having to finish it. The worry in her voice did nothing to quieten his own. "But it's only a matter of time until they will have to act. I just- I wanted to warn you, Coryo."

He nodded, more to himself than her. "I will be fine." He had regained his composure and his voice was perfectly emotionless.

"I am worried for you. I think they might try to-"

He would never find out, if Tigris suspicions had been right, because before she could finish her sentence the call cut off.

Had they listened again?

Was he even safe here anymore?

Two more days passed before they came for him.

Two days he had spent pondering his choices yet felt no confidence as he stepped in front of the commander. His posture was as straight and effortless as always, so one would have guessed he was secretly far from calm.

He had expected to meet his superior in an official building, something elegant, if that even existed in the districts, but instead he was led to a distant part of a warehouse, where the lights flickered and spider webs hung heavy.

Coriolanus saluted in front of the man, then waited patiently for him to speak. He hoped no one could see past his guard, noticed how fast his heart was beating.

"I was informed about certain rumours circling the streets of the capitol these days. I take it you have heard about them too?"

He gave a short nod, forcing his face to remain blank. The man, who he assumed to be in his late fifties took a step closer. His hair was completely grey, except for one white strand. It gave him an upper look that didn't suit the scenery of the district.

Was he from the capitol? He wasn't dressed like it though; he was wearing the peacekeeper uniform, but something told Coriolanus it was a disguise of his real power. The capitol liked their games.

"So what do you think?"

"I think-", he began, but his voice got interrupted by a painfilled scream. His eyes flickered to the door, but it was locked, either side guarded by a peacekeeper. None of them moved and when he turned back to the commander he simply weaved his hand, urging him to continue.

Coriolanus swallowed, taken off-guard by the noise but pulling himself together. "I think it's just that- rumours. Eventually the public will take an interest in different news."

"Ahh, so you don‘t think such a narrative could have an impact on the political climate both in the districts and the caption? That it could send the wrong image?“

Coriolanus pressed his lips together. “I believe-“, but again a cry disrupted his attempt at an answer. It could not be a coincidence that they had chosen this place to talk to him. It had probably been arranged to shaken his composure and unsettle him. He hated to admit that it worked.

It was probably just a thief, paying for her sins. No one that deserved his attention. Yet it was unnerving, a subtle reminder just how quickly he could manoeuver himself into the same position.

“Oh don‘t tell me that’s bothering you?” The man in front of him raised his brows. “You should be familiar with the sound of traitors. So what is it you wanted to say?“

Coriolanus straightened his shoulders, but this time the sound was louder, clearer. It was a scream that cut through the air and it was one he knew too well.

No.

“Mr. Snow, what was it you were saying?“

He blinked in irritation and straightened his shoulders when he realized his loss of posture.

“I was saying that the capitol could own it. Make it their own narrative. A tribute developing…an infatuation“, he felt sick, “with her mentor could be-“ Another scream. He felt his composure crumble. The man tilted his head. He was silently laughing about him, Coriolanus was certain about it. “…helpful“, he finished, clearly distracted by the background noises.

They sounded too familiar, had been the sound of his many nightmares and a silent fear crept up his spine.

What if this was real? What if it wasn‘t his mind playing tricks on him, making everything about you? Seeing, hearing you everywhere..

“So you affirm that this- infatuation as you call it is one-sided and you hold no feelings for you tribute?“

Coriolanus lifted his chin. “I merely did my job. I earned the public’s attention and got them interested in the games again. I turned a tribute with no chances into a winner.“

“So you‘re saying the girl doesn‘t mean anything to you?“

He put on a smile that didn‘t reach his eyes. “I assure you and everyone in the capitol that I do not have any connection to the girl beyond the mentorship and that I have no interest or care for her fate now that I completed my task.“

He had always tried to mask the truth or bend it when he felt he needed to, but lying was a different kind of game. One he felt he was losing.

He could tell himself he did this to protect you. But the reality was that he didn’t know if he did.

No, he had to think of his own life now. It was better this way. He had helped save your life once. Now it was time for you to walk your own path.

“Coriolanus!“ He flinched. It was too late to pretend he hadn‘t, everyone had seen it, but he couldn‘t not react when he heard your desperate voice calling his name.

This whole time his instinct had told him that he was right. That the sounds belonged to you and this was more than just a set-up to unnerve him.

It was a trap.

“What is this?“ His voice came out too sharp and he willed himself to remain calm, but it was impossible, if you were here and you were hurt.

“Oh, it should not be of concern for you as you just told us you do not have any interest in the girl‘s fate.“

Had he just said that? In his head it had sounded much more- convincing. But hearing his own words reflected back to him just made him realise how pathetic they sounded.

They could not be farer from the truth.

“As her mentor I would like to know what you are accusing her of“, he tried a different approach, but it was senseless.

“Oh but Mr. Snow, she is not your tribute anymore. Like you said there is no connection between you and the girl.“

His commander took a step towards him. “Now tell me, which one is the lie?“

Coriolanus swallowed. It took all of him to stand still and keep himself from running after your voice. His body was trembling from the effort. Too long he had been trapped behind a screen, unable to do anything to help you.

But here he could.

Another scream broke the silence. Despite his will he flinched again and closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to stay strong, remain unaffected. But with each sound he felt himself losing control and a hatred took over his instinct.

“I personally believe you have been lying to us for a long time now, Coriolanus. I can see it on your face. But I would like to hear it out of your own mouth.“

Another step closer. Another cry.

“Say it.“

Coriolanus clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists.

“SAY IT!“

His fist connected with the man’s jaw before he could even think about what he was doing. He saw the other two peacekeepers at the door reaching for their weapons, but he was faster and had shot them with his own in an instant.

Without another look at them he ran for the door, following your pleas. His heart was racing as he raced through the corridors and tried to locate where it was coming from.

Hopefully he wasn‘t too late. No, he couldn‘t think like that! Yet the thought of what he might get to see tore at him. He should have acted sooner, he should have- killed these men before they even got the chance to open their mouths. It had been a lost game from the beginning and he was done being their paying piece.

“Coriolanus!“

He had almost made it. Just another room…

Coriolanus pushed it open with so much force that the door crashed against the wall and broke out of its hinges.

Breathing heavily and sweating he came to an abrupt stop and took in the room. It was small, dimly lit, empty. He took a step forward, his eyes fixed on the only thing in the room. It was a table and on it-

A cage with a bird.

Part IV

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ryndicate · 1 year

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Seal It With a Kiss ⨳ Kishibe

"You want me to do this for you? Then tell me exactly what it is that you want."

notes: I came up with this idea for @akiniku back in like september when i was just beginning to sniff around the csm fandom for a favorite. Dom told me all about him and i fell in love and came up with this plot and *then* I read csm lol. 6+ months later, here we are T-T thanks to @cyancherub for reading through his characterization for me and for my past and future beta readers<3 (i know some of you havent gotten the chance i was just too excited) Idon’t know if i will ever be able to put as much love into a Kishibe fic ever again so lets try to appreciate this

warnings: female reader, longer than a drabble, alcohol, virginity loss + inexperienced reader, creampie, emotional manipulation, coercion but there's consent, age gap (like 30 years between them, fight me), trainee/mentor relationship, twisted savior complex, canonverse, piss (more about control than it is the kink)

Rules/BYF/DNI

Kishibe sighs. “That’s it for today.”

“Already?” You puff, sweat dripping down your temples, your blade lowering until the tip is pointing to the ground. “I could keep going.”

He sighs again, resisting the urge to rub the approaching headache from his temple. Kishibe will never understand the PSDH’s insistence of sending him all of their potentials. Their screening is usually decent enough to keep this type of student from beneath his weathered wings, but every now and then one will slip through. One like you. Earnest, hopeful, and far too willing to do the job. This ain’t the place for you, never will be. They set you loose on the streets and you’ll be some Devil’s next meal.

But it’s not his place to care. Not supposed to be at least. Makima won’t even tell him which Devils you have contracts with—but again, he doesn't care.

Kishibe ignores your mumbled complaints about cutting your training short, sighing under his breath. “Gonna need’a drink after this.”

He’s unprepared for you to pop up at his side, tilting your head as you ask if you can come with him.

“Why?”

The question seems to put you off. “Isn’t it good manners to take your juniors out after a hard day?”

Kishibe huffs at your coy tone, certain you’re just after a free meal. “That’s for juniors who’ve proven they earned it.”

That seems to put you off even more. “You don’t think I’ve earned it?”

“No.” His answer is short, clipped. Dark eyes watch intently as you deflate a little, that perpetually cheerful expression drooping into something he ultimately decides is an unsettling expression on a face like yours. He doesn’t care for it, unable to decide why.

“How’s this?” He grunts, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting up. “I’ll give ya a week.”

“A week for what? You're not supposed to smoke inside, you know.” A sulky tone meets Kishibe’s ears, your eyes tracking his lips and the flare of the cherry as he inhales.

He ignores the snipe. “You get close enough to me to take one of these away—” a twitch of his fingers has flaky ash fluttering to the linoleum, “—and I’ll take you out for drinks. That’s how you earn it.”

The sparkle is back in your eyes in an instant. Your sword tips back into its sheath, coming up on his left to give him a smile. "You got it, sir! You'll never smoke again. Just watch."

Kishibe rolls a shoulder, suppressing a groan at your chipper attitude. I'm getting too old for this shit. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."

He's ignorant to the way the words make you pause, moving for the door, ready to get in his car and drive to his regular dive bar. He needs the silence of the drive before he drowns himself for the night. Well, not so much silence as the rattling heating unit, the rush of passing cars, and music so quiet one might question why it’s even on. It’s simply the beginning step of the ritual he’s come to find most comforting, or numbing, on this job.

"See you tomorrow, sir?"

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even bother glancing back as the door closes behind him.

The autumn air clears his head a little as he finally escapes the hallways of the office. A cold breeze whips at his hair, bringing old scars and memories to mind as it bites at his skin. Kishibe takes a final drag of his cigarette and lets it fall to the pavement. He doesn’t stub it out, pulling out the collar of his jacket to fight the chill as he disappears into the evening crowd.

“That is not how this works.”

“There’s no way this doesn’t count!”

“Give them back.”

“I said you’d never smoke again, didn’t I? I didn’t think you of all people would want me to go back on my word.”

Kishibe takes a careful inhale through his nose, closing his eyes for a beat and convincing himself he won’t kill any of his trainees. He’s sent you to infirmiry more times than he cares to count with these training sessions, to bring home the apparently wavering point on your young dumb invicibility complex, but he knows where the line is. So when he opens them, Kishibe fixes you with the same intent stare that usually gets his subordinates to straighten up, or clingy women out of his apartment. Dark, unimpressed, unwavering.

You are painfully undeterred.

“I had to get close enough to take them from you. That’s what you said.” You stand in front of him, at a regrettably smart distance, looking mighty proud of yourself as you clutch the worn white box carefully in your fist. After five straight days of utter and total defeat, you’d made your move on the car ride over this morning instead.

“I said one, not the pack,” Kishibe drawls. “And you know damn well that ain’t the point here. Nickin' them from the car is not the same.”

You shrug, a familiar petulance beginning to saturate your tone. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You said that kills people.”

Unprepared for the—still a smartass answer but—wisdom of your words, some of the intensity dissolves from his eyes. As if he really needed that reminder. He still has his doubts.

“No arguing that,” Kishibe sighs, scratching his neck. “Guess you get what you wanted. Drinks on me tonight.”

A triumphant smile brightens your face, but it doesn’t last. The barest moment later you find yourself flat on your back on the training facility’s floor, groaning at the impact.

Kishibe flicks his lighter, sparking his cigarette and taking a grateful inhale of sweet nicotine as he stands over you, impassive.

“But I’m still gonna make you earn it, sweetheart. Getting overconfident and lettin’ down your guard also kills people. Get up and block me next time.”

“Yes, sir."

He might have been harsher on you today than entirely warranted as he watches you wince and shift, trying to get comfortable in the weathered booth of his usual bar. But really, to go any easier on you would do you a disservice if you really are this hellbent on working in public safety. Part of Kishibe is hoping one training session—and soon—he’ll find your limit and you’ll realize you aren’t making the cut. At the very least he’d like you to settle for the civilian sector. Hell, Kishibe despises paperwork but he'd write your damn recommendation.

You’re peering around the dimly lit space. It's hazy with smoke, with a scent to match. He probably could have taken you somewhere nicer, but he really didn’t want to stray too far from his own comfort zone, so what the hell. This was your own idea anyways.

“Are you even old enough to be in here?” Kishibe asks suddenly, catching the eye of the bartender and tipping his head.

“I came of age a couple months ago.”

Kishibe cringes inwardly at your prideful tone. Fucking great. He eyes you as the bartender begins to edge out from behind the counter, watching as you glance around a little frantically for a menu. Shoddy place like this doesn’t really have one.

Kishibe gestures between the two of you before the man has to cross the bar completely. “My usual. Double for me.”

"What's your usual?" You ask curiously.

"Whiskey. Nothing fancy, just cheap and strong."

"Oh."

The glasses are placed in front of you and you give what Kishibe sees as an awkward smile at the bartender as your fingers wrap around the glass. He takes a grateful gulp, unable to help but notice you haven't made a move with your own.

"Not to your taste?"

"I don't know," you answer plainly, tilting the short glass and letting the amber liquid catch the light. "Never had it."

"Never had whiskey?" Kishibe hums, bored, taking another drink. The double is going fast. The familiar warmth has already settled in his chest, an old comfort.

"Never had alcohol."

Sucker punched with that information, Kishibe pauses and swallows the last of his glass before setting it down and signaling for a refill. He's far too practised to waste a drop of a drink he's paying for.

"Why are we here?" It's a shrewd question, a shrewd tone. "If you've never had alcohol, why were you so insistent on going out for drinks? Isn't that something you do with your friends?"

Your fingers tighten on the glass, a small pout forming on your lips. "Didn’t wanna do this with friends. Wanted my first drink to be with you, s-sir." Embarrassment coats your features as your words stumble off at the end, and you return to examining your still untouched drink.

Kishibe's refill arrives, another heaven sent double. He's getting the faint inkling that something else is happening here and he's far too tired to pick the answers out of you.

"Lemme get this straight," he drawls, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at you over the rim of his glass before bringing it to his lips. "You wanted your first drink out with a tired old man instead of your friends?"

"You're not tired!"

Your tone is scandalized, pitch rising high enough that it catches the attention of some other men seated nearby. The last thing he needs.

Kishibe scoffs, scar twitching as he fights a sardonic smirk. "Beg to differ sweetheart."

"You're not, you…you're—" your volume is back to normal, seemingly struggling with your words, and it's amusing if not slightly endearing.

"Lemme know when you think of something, I'll be here," Kishibe mumbles, drinking again, content to watch you squirm. "You gonna take that first drink? You got me here, like you wanted. Might as well."

That small smirk finally fights its way onto his lips as you give him the barest of glares. He usually doesn't see that look on you until you've gone an entire session without landing a single hit. It's cute.

"You're you. Don't gotta 'splain myself to you," you grumble, timidly lifting the glass to your lips.

"No, you don't," Kishibe rumbles in agreement, watching as you take your first swallow.

To your merit you don't splutter or cough, but a grimace splinters across your expression as you swallow and stare down at the glass in mild disbelief.

"This sucks," you announce firmly.

Kishibe barks out a short laugh and finishes his second drink. "I'll order ya something else."

He's reaching for your glass when you snatch it away from him.

"No, I'll finish it. This is what you usually get?"

"Yeah. But take it easy, that's a—" Kishibe stares, a little defeated as you down the glass. "Tha'sa sippin' whiskey."

"What's that mean?" You croak out, your face scrunching up despite your efforts.

"It means you're getting a glass of water before I get you anythin' else."

"Why?"

You'll thank me in the morning, Kishibe thinks grimly, not deigning to answer. Along with the next few rounds and the rounds after that, he also orders your water and some food, feeling abnormally generous. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your grumbling tomorrow at training.

He can’t stop thinking how strange this is. It’s strange. You’re here in his usual booth, humming an odd tune while drinking his usual whiskey, when he’s here each night, usually alone. Kishibe feels the deep disturbance all the way to his roots, gnarled and twisted as they are.

Watching your face twist up at the taste again, Kishibe decides to slow down with some soju instead. Your eyes are getting blurry and your hands have settled into some kind of nervous habit, picking at the edge of the table as you try not to look at him. He doesn't understand your insistence here. Here at the bar, or anything else.

"Why are you doin' this?" He asks again, quiet.

You glance at him, blinking slowly as your gaze struggles to focus. Then you force a smile, sweet and pure as a Devil's heart. It's damn near chilling to see.

"'Cause I want to, sir."

"Bullshit." He's looked into you. Your family is alive, financially stable. You're not like most rookies joining up for the pay or the revenge. And from being around you he figures you aren't the type to do this for status. So it doesn't make sense.

Your smile fades. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You're not cut out for this shit, kiddo. An' I think ya know it, too."

"It's my first night out drinking, how can you tell?"

"Don't play coy with me."

You stand sharply, unsteady, a look crossing your face that Kishibe can't read. Before he can speak again, you're sliding into the booth on his side.

"Then ask me directly, sir." You whisper, trying valiantly to meet his harsh stare, before eventually losing your nerve and fixing your gaze on the table.

Like Kishibe has any problem being direct. Fine then. He sets his glass down and turns his body to face you. "Why're ya training so damn hard to become a Devil Hunter when it's just gonna get you killed?"

Cheeks warming, you don't look at him again. "Every Hunter has their reason, or else they wouldn't be here. We don't gotta share them unless we want to."

Your words are halting, and slurred. Kishibe pushes your drink out of reach. A fifth of whiskey and bottle of soju between you both for your first night out was an oversight on his part, even if he had more than you.

"And you're not goin' to tell me?"

Head dropping into your palm, eyelashes fluttering, you peek up at him. "Not unless you can tell me why you care."

Kishibe pauses. He's got plenty of reasons, but he's not uncouth enough to say them to you. 'Cause he doesn't want to be wasting his time prepping meat for the chopping block. 'Cause booze is expensive and sleep is precious. He doesn't get enough as it is and he's sick at the idea of losing more. 'Cause every time one of his trainees dies, it feels like a new scar cracks its way across the already trampled fragments of his soul.

There's plenty of reasons he drinks himself nearly dead every night.

Your fuzzy eyes peer into his darkened ones and seemingly run into the wall that you know he's put up. "Then it's better you don't ask, sir. It’s important to me, that’s all you need’ta know."

So much for direct.

There's a silence at the table after Kishibe gruffly orders another drink, his mood for the night officially ruined. This is why he doesn't socialize with coworkers. Save people by day, check out at night. He lives for one fleeting peace; he'd rather be drowning in booze and laid up in the arms of whatever woman will put up with him.

And all he has right now is booze. He flags the barkeep. "Bottle for the road."

You shift to look at him. "Are we leaving already?"

"Yeah. You've had plenty."

There's no complaint, but there's no mistaking the look of disappointment on your face as he takes your arm and helps haul you to your wobbly feet.

"What's that look for?"

"I was having fun, sir."

"Stop calling me sir."

"Why?"

"Cause we're at a fucking bar. Sir is for work."

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Just Kishibe."

He finally looks at you again and you're smiling and this time there's nothing to be unsettled about. "No honorific? You'll let me call you by name?"

"It's sir at work," Kishibe reminds, deadpan.

“And master in front of other hunters, I know,” you parrot cheekily, and Kishibe merely curls his lips in a temporary smirk.

“Damn right.”

"But not at work?" You prod, leaning into his frame heavily as the cold night air washes away the warmth of the bar.

"Then yeah, drop the honorific."

"Kishibe." His name leaves your lips as a wonder-filled giggle. The corner of his lip tugs further upward unwittingly in dry amusement. At least someone can salvage the mood for the night.

You poke at the bottle held loosely in his grip. "Can I have some of that?"

He passes it to you. "You don't even like the stuff."

An impressive amount of the amber liquid disappears down your throat before you groan in disgust and pass it back to him. "Sometimes we do stuff we don't like 'cause we get something out of it."

Kishibe hums at that. "And what do you get out of it?"

"'S a secret."

"A secret, huh? You seem to have a lot of those." He drawls, keeping you upright when you almost fall again. Yeah, he needs to find you a taxi or something. Neither of you are driving tonight. It's a little annoying, he meant to stop at the convenience store to get another pack of cigs before going home tonight. The crumpled empty pack is still in his pocket—he hasn't had one since this morning and Kishibe can feel the irritation in his nerves.

"What's your address kid?" He nudges you as the taxi pulls up, but your weight against his hip suddenly feels dead. "Are you—of course you are."

Kishibe's whole chest fills with his next sigh, and he quietly works to get you into the cab. The driver asks him where they're going and he actually has to think about it for a moment. He'd much rather prefer going back to his cozy little hideout, but it's a mess and much too small. Not to mention he absolutely does not want you knowing where it is.

Closing his eyes, Kishibe reluctantly mumbles out an address, and sinks even deeper into his bottle before the cab drops them off at the requested location.

He eyes you over as the elevator quietly ascends, one arm around your waist with yours around his shoulder to bear your weight. It's really no wonder you passed out, the scent of whiskey is just about crawling out of your pores. Between the two of you, Kishibe bets the elevator smells like a distillery.

The doors open into his “apartment”.

He doesn't like sleeping here. The place is too big, ceilings too high, furniture too fancy. All those high windows and modern grays and whites. It's perfectly clean and perfectly lifeless, set up for him by the PSDH. He's sure some bright-eyed big shot hunter in it for the money and high living would get a kick out of the place, but for a man like him the space is just obnoxious. But since his studio isn't an option, and Kishibe can't be bothered with taking you to a hotel, he figures you'd rather prefer one of his guest rooms instead.

Kishibe flinches and grumbles under his breath as the now empty bottle slips from his hand and clatters to the hardwood. You make a rather undignified snort as you startle to awareness. If one could call it that.

“Wha—” Your fingers cling to the sleeve of his jacket as you blink through the blur of your eyesight, struggling to find your footing. “Where’re we now?”

“My place.”

“You live here?”

“Technically.”

He hauls you towards the kitchen, somewhat a struggle with your uninhibited desire to swivel your head and scan the place as thoroughly as you were presently capable of doing.

“Not what I pictured.” You wobble and right yourself, slumping against the marble countertop. Kishibe pauses, making sure you’re gonna make a dive for his floor before he turns to pull open the fridge.

“Yeah well, me neither.”

“It’s so clean.” That earns you a grunt. “And modern.”

“You tryin’ to say something, sweetheart?” He sends you a look that sends a hot wave of embarrassment across your face.

“No! ‘M just sayin’...”

“Yeah, whatever. Here.”

You take the water bottle he pushes into your hands and open it, halfheartedly taking a few sips to ease the simmer in your cheeks.

Kishibe snorts when you put it down. “Nuh uh, finish that.”

You take another sip, trying to placate him. “‘M not thirsty though.”

Your eyes widen as he grumbles and steps closer, dark eyes narrowed. It’s impossible to muffle the noise of complaint on your lips as he tips the water bottle back, keeping your chin up with an uncompromising strength. "Tough. I said all of it."

The rough pads of his thumbs feel like fire on your jaw and he seems to have no idea how his proximity is setting you ablaze. You quickly swallow before you choke, or worse spill down your chin like a child. He doesn’t let go until you’ve finished the bottle—it’s impossible not to gasp for air as if you’ve breached the surface of a pool for the first time in minutes.

“Pretty good lungs.”

“I almost died—!” You wheeze, unappreciative of the joke, wiping your face with your arm.

“You were gonna be dead in the morning if you didn’t. Might as well get it over with.” Kishibe sets the empty bottle on the counter, unflappable.

“Hmph.”

You watch curiously as he grabs himself some water, noticing with a scowl that he doesn’t drink nearly as much as he forced on you. He reaches for a small bottle, rattling as he shakes a couple into his palm. “You’re not supposed to take those with alcohol.”

Kishibe gives you a dry look and pops the painkillers into his mouth. He can feel his head pounding already, his routine thoroughly interrupted. He can’t mentally check out with you still here, especially in this state. You look a little more solid now compared to your unconscious slump, but you’re still visibly swaying, blurred eyes drifting in and out of focus. Last thing he needs is for you to do something to yourself when he’s around. The paperwork for that would be the death of him.

He shrugs and nods for you to follow. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You suddenly look nervous. “C’mon where?”

“Night’s over. Time for bed.”

You produce a shaky laugh. “What?”

Sweet fuck.

“You want a bed or the couch?” Kishibe takes applaudable effort to keep the exhaustion out of his tone. Honestly, you'd probably be better off with the couch, grateful for your mumbled little ‘doesn’t matter to me’. He's not sure of the state of any of the rooms, considering he's trashed them before. Whoever set the place up for him might have a cleaning service but he's never bothered to ask about it since he’s never here. “There’s blankets around here somewhere.”

Stepping into the living room he sees he’s right, a couple of soft looking throws draped over the back of a plush black sectional. You’re trailing close behind him, like you’ll get lost if you lose sight of him.

“Sit.” Kishibe says tiredly as you circle around the edge of the sectional, looking around curiously.

You listen and he grabs the other blanket off the far arm of the couch, tossing it and one of the pillows towards where you’re sitting. The pillow lands at your side, the blanket haphazardly in your lap, are you’re just staring at him as he settles on the other side, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting that fall to the floor.

“Get comfortable, go to sleep,” Kishibe grunts, closing his eyes.

“You’re staying in here?”

He doesn’t read into the tone of your voice, keeping his eyes shut. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own puke in your sleep.”

“‘M not gonna puke,” you grumble under your breath.

Kishibe wills in a sigh, listening to the rustle of blankets and what he assumes is you settling down. Only to tense as the cushion near him dips under weight. He opens his eyes to see you sitting you next to him and his eyes sharpen.

You cut him off, seeming to sense whatever biting remark is coming. “I’m not tired. Not good at sleeping in new spaces.”

“Well you need’ta try.”

“Can we just talk for a bit?”

He sighs, but he doesn’t refute you, opening his eyes to give you a quiet stare. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Relying heavily on the lingering alcohol in your veins to gather the nerve, you scooch closer to his position on the couch, dragging the blanket with you. “You’ve really never had anyone over here? But Himeno says you never spend your nights alone.”

Kishibe eyes you warily as you enter what he considers his field of personal space, your knees barely brushing against his thighs. “I don’t normally spend my nights here. And you can tell Himeno she’s got better things t’do than gossip about my personal life.”

“So you spend the night at their place then?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you really the womanizer everyone says you are?”

Kishibe glances up to see you even closer and shifts a little to give you a measured look, eyelids drooping in suspicion. “You really want the truth of that?”

“Yeah, ‘m hoping to hear something,” you murmur, heart racing as you place a hand on his abdomen. It stiffens under your touch, but he makes no move to stop you, so you toy with the button of his shirt.

“And what’s that exactly?” Shock receding, his mind catches up and he grabs your hand, keeping it from tracing its upward path.

“There’s something I’m hoping you can help me with, sir.”

“Kishibe.”

“Kishibe,” you correct, cheeks warming as you finally raise your eyes from his chest to look into his own. He’s watching you so closely that you almost look away again, almost chickening out.

His eyes are locked onto the way you’re chewing at your lip, waiting for you to say something more, hoping for anything that makes sense. When you don’t his patience thins enough to ask, “Well?”

“I-um,” you hesitate before your fingers curl into his shirt, mentally fortifying yourself, “I’ve never… I’m looking for someone experienced to- to help me. I want it to be you.”

There's a small pause as his whiskey-addled mind filters out the meaning of your words. Then, a small disbelieving smirk is half-formed on his lips when he scoffs out a laugh. “Ha, no, sweetheart. No, I don’t think so.”

He’s shifting to stand up off the couch when you panic. You’ve gotten this far! He has to hear you out, or you’ll never be able to look him in the eye again, let alone train under him. So before he can, you throw your thigh over his lap, straddling him. His hands flash to your arms in an iron grip, keeping your hands from wandering any further. He’s staring at you in muted disbelief, tense, as if he can’t quite believe you’re defying him.

“Please wait,” your voice raises in pitch, but you’re almost whispering. “I can explain, please just listen.”

“What? Cute little student girl got the hots for teacher? Or are you desperately in love with me now, and can’t bear the thought of anyone else sullying your innocence?” he drawls out, the insanity of this situation finally allowing him to release the floodgates on all the ill manner he’s been attempting to keep back all night.

Your face might as well be a space heater as you splutter in mortification at being seen through so easily, trying to find the words to refute him. “N-no! No, I wasn’t. That’s… That’s not…”

“You better clear this up real quick then, sweets, cause you don’t have long before I take it into my own hands,” Kishibe warns lowly, soft and dangerous, seconds from calling a cab to get you miles away from his apartment, and more importantly him.

The hard-eyed stare he’s giving you now is nothing like the way he looks at you in training. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought that entertaining your feelings is enough to make him react this way, turning him into this colder version of himself that you barely recognize. This is not going the way you intended, but you can’t imagine that you’ll ever be in a situation like this ever again, so you take a deep breath and clear your expression of all deceit. “It’s not like that, but I really can’t think of anyone else to help me with this. It’s not for lack of trying.”

Kishibe eyes you, his grip on your arms not slacking. You glance down at him warily, and he’s like a bristling cat that’s making an attempt at trust.

“So…? Will you help me?”

He mumbles eventually, still tense, “Why not Hayakawa? Or one of the other rookies, they’re probably better suited.”

You make a face. “The rookies are stupid, and Hayakawa-san is just too… stern.”

“I’m not stern?”

“That’s not the point!” You retort hotly. “Hayakawa just seems more like someone who isn’t interested in casual flings—”

“And that’s what you’re looking for here?” Kishibe cuts in drily, noting the way your mouth snaps shut. You shift awkwardly in his lap and he stoutly blames his nightly routine for the way his body is sluggishly perking to life. He might have the heart of a saint, but his mind is more like a devil’s… and he has eyes.

Oblivious to his internalizations, you grimace. You don't want casual anything so it's technically a point in Hayakawa's favor. But there's one big point in the younger man's (begrudgingly small) list of cons that can't be overlooked: he's not Kishibe.

“I’m looking for someone who knows what they’re doing,” you inform him, your voice softening. There’s a sort of vulnerability to you now that has the older man caving despite himself and listening more intently, watching you whiplash between assertive and shy for the nth time. “Someone I trust, who won’t take advantage of me. And… I don’t believe the whole sacred virginity schtick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my first time to be… I don’t know, special?”

Kishibe’s mouth runs dry, and this time he blames the alcohol. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead softly, leaning closer without thinking in your excitement. That wasn’t a refusal. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

He can feel your breath on his cheeks, his eyes bouncing between your lips and eyes for a moment before humming low. “No one else? A girl like you, having to settle for an old man like me?”

"No one has to know. Please, sir?" You plead quietly, with crystal notes of sincerity. It's a painfully sweet sound.

Kishibe reluctantly lets your arms slip from his hands and drops his own to loosely grip your waist, absently drawing a pattern on your hip with one finger. The heat of your body is filtering so thick through your clothes that he doesn't know how he didn't notice it until now. You shiver at his touch, and he tries to keep his expression neutral when you instinctively grab at his shoulders.

He shouldn't be considering this for even a second, but he is and he hates himself for it. You're a young pretty thing, and he's made a point to stop looking at young pretty things the way your touch is sparking him to, for going on years now.

Carefully, one hand moves to rest on your stomach, caressing its way up over your covered chest, eliciting a soft gasp from you before it moves on and settles under your chin, firmly tugging it down to make sure you're looking at him. He's never cared for the way you can't look him in the eye, and he normally lets it go but he won't tolerate it tonight. If he goes through with this, that is.

Your eyes are wide, and glazed in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol for the first time tonight. Kishibe makes a low sound in his throat at the sight of it before speaking, a heavy, rumbling tone meant to ensure you're taking in every word.

"You want me to do this for you?"

"Yes." Your breath catches as you damn near breathe the word out, your heart in your throat and a flutter in your stomach that makes you feel like you might fly away.

"Then tell me exactly what it is that you want." Fuck, he’s really doing this.

"I…" The hesitation must be clear on your face because his expression gets heated, a tiny smirk forming at the corner of his lips. You wouldn't have seen it at all if you weren't staring at them so hard. A quiet moan spills from your lips as he presses them to your jaw, not quite kissing, but dragging them up, warm breath tickling your ear. The center of your world quakes as he continues with that low, soul-quaking tone.

"Do you want me to treat you like a princess? Worship your body and make it all about you, take you to another world as I take you apart?" Kishibe marvels at the broken whimper you make as he grazes his teeth across your earlobe. "Or do you want me to be a little selfish? Show you pleasure as I know it, and change everything you think you know about carnal desire?"

"Sir—"

"No," he warns severely, gripping your thigh in warning, pulling back to look you in the eye.

"Kishibe," you correct yourself with a breathy whine that you hope doesn’t sound ridiculous. "Kishibe, I want you to choose."

"You want me to choose?"

"Th-that's why I chose you. You always- always know what's best."

That's so far from true, but in this realm of possibility, with you blinking those sweet little doe eyes down at him, Kishibe won't be the one to correct you. "...Alright."

"Then please take care of me." Please.

This time it's him who shudders. "Alright," he murmurs again, "Alright, sweetheart. I've got you."

He’s a little gentler this time as he tugs your chin down to him, meeting your lips in a delicate kiss that has all his nerves standing to attention in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. With other women, he has no reason to be slow or gentle. With other women, both parties know what they’re there for, but this isn’t like that. You aren’t like that. You’re young, and if you’re to be believed, untouched. Pure. And you’ve put yourself in his care, begging for him to remove that purity. He’s not sure he ever would have agreed to this if he were sober, so you lucked out. Or maybe this is what you wanted all along.

Kishibe groans softly as you timidly move to respond to his kiss, alcohol sweet on your breath. You at least seem to know what to do here, parting your lips and staying pliant as he learns how you taste, moving your tongue against his as he explores your mouth. He breaks for a moment, giving you a warning and enough time to stop him, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I’m taking this off now.”

He waits, and when you do nothing but moan, he begins to pop the buttons of your shirt open, one by one from the bottom up, exposing your navel, and then the black cotton bra beneath. You kiss him deeper as he slides a hand up your spine, rocking your hips into his lap as he pulls at the clasp, undoing it in a practised move. The fabric falls loose, and he presses a hand to your sternum, forcing you to retreat.

Your lips are slick, a little swollen, but it’s the hazy look in your eyes that has all his attention. “You good, sweets? You even gonna remember this in the morning?”

“I will. I will, 'm promise. Please keep going,” you slur, not really giving him the best vote of confidence.

“Take that off for me.” Kishibe tugs loosely at your bra, the cups hanging just low enough for him to get a peek at your areolas. His cock is straining in his slacks now, but he’s too invested for it to be uncomfortable yet. He meant it when he said he was going to take you apart, and he’s going to do it slowly.

You blink at him, and timidly slide the straps off your shoulders. Your movements are slow, but there’s less hesitance than he’s seen so far. It’s clear you’re more worried about his disapproval than any insecurities you might have. Good.

“Good girl. Look at you,” Kishibe is quick to dole out the praise as soon as your tits are exposed, half for your confidence and half because they really are pretty tits. He’s reaching for them before even he can process what he’s doing. Your nipples are already hard, pulled taut and looking painfully neglected, either from your own arousal or the air. It could be cold in here for all Kishibe knows, but the air around him feels thick, heated and charged. He’d be suffocating if he weren’t so focused.

You take a shuddering breath as he holds them. His touch is so light, the pads of his fingers calloused and warm, stroking over the sensitive flesh. You want more, arching into his touch as much as you dare, still unable to shake the thought that he might change his mind and end this, but for now he doesn’t disappoint. Dazed, you realized the sharp gasp that bites the air is yours as he strokes the pads of his fingers over your nipples before tugging lightly, pleasure rippling hot under your skin.

Your head tosses back in a moan as he does it again, this time his lips brushing the curve of your breast as he pulls you forward, pressing your chest closer to his face. He sucks at the fat of your breasts, still gently tweaking your at your hardened nubs, working his way over, seemingly content to explore.

Pleasure moves hot and slow under your skin, but your mind keeps rocketing from one sensation to another, making it impossible to think beyond the man beneath you. His slick tongue moving against your skin, the heat and wet of it stroking over the edge of your areola, the rough pad of his thumb, the scrape of his blunt nail over the sensitive tip of your nipples, the same callouses gripping at your back, fingertips tickling the edge of your shoulder blade.

“Quit it,” Kishibe grunts after a minute, and you realize you’ve twisted your hands into his hair, tugging him closer and trying to drag him to where it feels like he’s purposefully avoiding.

“Please, Kishibe, please,” you moan, blissfully unaware of the minor tantrum you’re throwing at you grind down on his clothed erection. “Your mouth.”

“What about it?” He blinks at you lazily, taking the moment where you sit back to tug at the top few buttons of his own shirt, exposing the top of his chest and a peek of the dark hair that’s hidden beneath.

“Let… Let me feel it,” you breathe out after you’ve snapped your eyes away from that new detail.

The slow grin that spreads across his features feels like the first key in the series of locks that surrounds the man in front of you, a piece of him that he doesn’t share willingly. Something that has to be brought out, dragged out, a prisoner in a cage of its own making.

“Be more specific, sweets.”

But he’s still the same man, he just exists in varying shades. You squirm for a moment, subject to self-consciousness, but the ache in your nipples, growing tighter in the continued neglect, wins out. You cup your own tits, pushing them out as you lean back down to him. “Want it here. Need to feel you suck on them.”

An appreciative gleam brightens dark eyes. “There’s a good girl.”

This time Kishibe leans in with intent, and you learn something else—your mentor is a goddamn tease.

His tongue drags over your nipples before sucking, and your hands are tangled in his hair again before you can process it, a cry in a pitch you don’t even recognize torn from your mouth. The slick muscle flicks over the tip as his free hand comes up to roll the other between his fingers lightly. You’re shamelessly rutting into his lap now, senselessly chasing the pleasure boiling low in your stomach, and you can feel him moan against your skin at the friction.

You feel the scrape of his teeth, light and intentional, before he pops off and switches to the other. The treatment begins anew and you swear you might be able to come from this, the wet suction of his mouth, the tacky warmth as he tugs and twists at the nipple still covered in his spit. But Kishibe doesn’t let you, noting the frantic ruts of your body and beginning to slow his efforts, easing you back down.

“Wait—” Your complaint rears itself as your fingers twist into the shorter hair of his nape, trying to tug him closer the moment he pulls away.

“Easy, I’m not done with you,” he rasps, taking your wrists and gently detanging your fingers from his hair.

You yelp as he grips your thighs and flips your back to the cushions, a strength you already knew he had from all the times he’s stomped you in training, but it surprises you regardless. There’s no time to pick through your thoughts at the display, because Kishibe is bullying between your thighs and capturing your lips in a kiss that puts the last one to shame. It’s possessive, it’s plundering; erasing any other thought from your mind except the way he feels against you. How immovable he feels, his hips keeping your thighs spread, his obvious arousal against your core, his weight against your torso—whatever isn’t supported by his forearm against the cushions, just what he chooses to give you—the scratch of his stubble against your face, the ones he lets overgrow because they shadow his jawline again in less than a day.

You moan into his mouth as a hand slips between your bodies, pulling the button of your slacks and pushing a hand into your panties, the sound turning into a high keen as he drags his fingers through your slit. You know you’re wet, soaked even, but it’s still a shock to feel your own wetness as he pulls back out, slick against your mound before he’s free of your clothing, to see it shining on his fingers when he pulls back to give you a breath. You knew you wanted him, but to see how much would be mortifying if he knew the truth.

The glisten on his fingers goes unnoticed for a second as he catches sight of your wrecked expression, sitting back on his haunches.

“Oh sweets, look at you,” Kishibe chuckles, voice tight. “You’re a pretty sight right now, and you don’t even know. A sweet little mess. My sweet little mess, for tonight.”

Making a decision, he swipes his hands on the thighs of his pants and undoes his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch, aware of the way you stare from beneath him. He's getting there in years, but the aches of this job refuse to let his body go soft. There's a thin layer of soft skin stretched across the muscles beneath, making the definition less pronounced, less assuming, but there's no denying the power behind them as he flexes subtly, smirking when your eyes track the movement.

"Hips up," he orders firmly, his fingers already tugging at the waistband of your slacks.

Not needing to be told twice, you shift and raise your hips as he pulls them from your legs, panties and all. You're completely bare under him, and he's still wearing his pants, the button popped, looking like a god above you. His eyes are piercing, his expression set like marble. As he puts hot palms on your thighs, spreading them even further apart, you think about how attractive he looks when he smokes, almost wishing he had a cig hanging from his lips so you could see it.

Kishibe is staring intently at your pussy, the hunger in him growing deeper as he watches the muscles twitch. "So no one's ever touched this, huh?"

You shake your head, whimpering as he pulls your sticky lips apart.

"You lying, sweetheart? Not even you?"

Kishibe pulls back the hood of your poor swollen clit, stroking it lightly with the tip of his finger, dark eyes watching your face intently.

The touch rips a gasp from your throat like ice had been poured down your back, tossing your pretty little head back into the pillows as your fingers twist at what little slack the cushions beneath you have. Kishibe feels the flames of hell crawl a little closer to his own flesh as his arousal flares dangerously at the sight.

When you remain silent he prompts a little cruelly for an answer, slowly circling the throbbing bud. "Hmm?"

"I've-yeah I've touched it. Sometimes."

"Tell me."

"Tell you?" You suck in a harsh breath as one of his digits teases your entrance, but pulls away.

"Yeah, tell me how you touch your pussy at night. I wanna know how you play with yourself." His voice drones with detached amusement but his dark eyes are sharp, the sight making your skin prickle with elation to be the center of his attention.

“Usually slow,” you breathe out, moaning when he moves to your clit again. Two fingers press on the bundle of nerves and begin to rub back and forth in a steady tempo.

“Like this?” Kishibe murmurs, watching you closely.

“Slower,” your voice breaks an octave higher as he increases the pressure just a little, readjusting to what you now realize are instructions for him. “Y-yes, mm, like that…”

“Good. How about your fingers, hmm? You do that slow too?”

You can feel yourself dripping down to the couch as his voice drips across you like honey. “Yeah, at first.”

“One to start?”

“Fuck!” A keen tears from your throat as he slides the first digit in, abandoning your clit, the thick, calloused digit pressing in to the hilt with zero resistance.

“Or do you start with two?” Kishibe watches raptly as his middle joins his pointer in the rippling warmth of your cunt, the broken sob leaving your lips sending a irresistible wave of want tearing through his body. The way your hips grind into his touch, chasing more of him is enough to let him know that you can take more, but he lets you stay here for a moment, using his free hand to stroke over his confined cock as you writhe beneath him.

It’s not hard to find the right angle to stroke your slick walls, curling his fingers up into the spot that has you tossing your head back with what almost sounds like a mournful wail, as if you’re just realizing that you’ve never really given yourself real pleasure before. Kishibe isn’t sure if you have to be honest, you haven’t said, but he isn’t concerning himself with that. He’s too focused on the way you shy away from his touch when he presses his thumb to your clit again, as if you can’t take the combination.

“Oh?” It’s almost a coo, delight pulsing in his veins. “Not like that huh? That not how you do it?”

“I can’t, I can’t—it doesn’t, n-never like this!” It almost sounds like you’re pleading with him, your eyes wide as you stare at him, a thick haze of shock and bliss covering your irises that Kishibe is losing himself in, pumping his wrist, tempted to add a third finger just to see what sounds you’ll make.

“Told you I’d change everything you think you know about pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls his digits from your pussy, relishing in the whine of protest. And if he’s being honest with himself, there’s a bit of a power complex rushing through him, to be able to control your pleasure whether you think you can handle it or not is too alluring. It’s the thought of making you scream, nothing barred, as he forces ecstasty on you that you don’t even know exists on that has him pushing off the couch which a groan to finally free his cock, shucking his pants off, the liquor leaving him a little unsteady.

“Sit up for me.”

You do as he says, confusion scrunching you expression as he settles between your legs, his knees protesting only a little as he shifts so that the plush carpet isn’t dragging uncomfortably against his skin. A little yelp stays in your throat as he tugs you to the edge, spreading your thighs wider and positioning your hips up to expose your pretty pussy. He’s only a breath away, the scent of you thick, kissing distance really, when you slur out some nonsense that sounds questioning, but he can’t say he actually catches any sense of syllables from you.

“I’m thicker than most so you need this,” Kishibe grumbles, nipping at your inner thigh as you squirm and glaring you into submission, “But even a man with a pencil dick better be doin’ this for ya, so don’t accept less.”

Before you can come to terms with him on your knees before you, your mind fizzles out as his tongue swipes through your folds, and his groan vibrates deep into your core. If not for his hands keeping your thighs spread, you would have wrapped them around his head. His nose nudges at your clit as his tongue presses into your clenching pussy, and you can’t stop the garbled sound of pleasure as he laps at your walls, your head tossing back against the couch cushions as he eats you like a meal. It’s surreal, it doesn’t make a lick of sense but oh god you don’t care. The sounds of him slurping at your cunt makes your cheeks burn and you force yourself past your self consciousness to look down at him, the skin of your knuckles stretched tight as you curl them into shaking fists, trying to wrap your mind around the sensations.

Kishibe flattens his tongue over your clit, and meets your gaze with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slips a finger into you, savoring the way you clamp down right away, giving a reedy mewl. He can’t help himself any longer, one hand closing around his dick and beginning to slowly stroke himself, trying to go slow, to ease some of the pressure and calm himself down. He adds another digit, and sits back as he begins to work you towards your finish.

“Should’ve done this in a bed,” he mutters under his breath, the scent of your pleasure thick, feeling mildly guilty as you tremble through your long awaited awaited high. Even his first encounter had been in a bed, traditional.

Kishibe hisses into your thigh as your fingers twist so tight into his hair that he’d snap at you if he were anywhere but here. Here with his fingers sweeping over your clit, watching the way your muscles ripple and tense, an obscene amount of slick and cum dripping onto his couch, and damn it why are you so easy to spoil? Why is he letting you practically rip the hair from his head as your hips jolt and jump, pleasure taking every ounce of your control away from you. There’s a wet sound as he finally pulls his fingers from your cunt, and you slump against the cushions, a looking so beautifully fucked out that it’s a damn shame you haven’t actually been fucked yet.

But that’s what you came here for, and Kishibe will not be the one to disappoint. He pushes to his feet for a moment and drags your hips until you’re both on the couch comfortably, and lets himself sink between your legs, his dick hot and throbbing against your inner thigh. It’s weeping precome and there’s a shivering sense of relief to know that his patience is finally about to be rewarded.

“You still with me, sweets?” Kishibe murmurs softly, leaning over you, letting his lips drag up your throat in a possessive trail of teeth marks and bruises. “You ready for me?”

The prickle of his overgrown stubble brings you back down a little, and you moan as his tongue swipes over the indentations left in your flesh. “That was—” you gasp at a sharp dig of his teeth under your jaw, hips arching towards him as you feel the weight of his dick between your slick folds, thoughts flying from your mind as the thick tip of him slides over your oversensitive clit. “Oh fuck, Kishibe please. I need y- I need it, oh god.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he really is going to ruin you. You can’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this good, so overwhelmed but so hungry for it.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, and your body lights up as he shifts back a little, the head of his cock pressing against you and easing inside your desperate walls. He grins as your arms wrap around his shoulders, lips searching for his as your hips try to squirm deeper onto his cock. He meets you in a deep kiss, but he grips your hips firmly, sliding deeper into your clenching pussy at his own content pace, groaning into your mouth at how hot and wet you are. So tight, so so tight, that he can’t stop the juvenile thought about being sure you were a virgin from flitting through his mind, but he lets it go, not about to sully this experience for you with his own pussy drunk stupidity, closing his eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, forcing you to slow it and calm down for him, echoing your whimpers with tiny groans of encouragement.

His thrusts are as steady and measured as they can be with the way your walls suck him in, pussy lips stretched wide around the thicker middle of his shaft. Every time he pulls out he can feel the way your body is trying not to let him go, and every sink home is accompanied by a shaky little exhale from you that sets a fire so deep in his gut that Kishibe is sure the whiskey is the only reason he hasn’t fallen to pieces yet. You’re so pretty and needy sprawled about beneath him, so sunk to pleasure that you’ve resigned to just taking what he gives you and it’s addictive. His cock throbs as he listens to your mumbled little slurs about how good it feels, and he has to pause, breathing deep and hard as he wills down a sudden and fierce urge fill you with cum.

Kishibe chuckles as he sits up and you let out a whine of disapproval, but a slow roll of his hips changes your tune immediately. You’re sucking him in greedily, your clit swollen and damn near begging for attention. He brushes it gently with the back of his knuckles, hissing as you squeeze him in response, getting impossibly wetter around his length. “Doing so good for me, how are you feeling?”

“More, want more.” It’s barely intelligible with how breathless you are, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes down your temples. Your face is so sweet, so open, trusting and needy and suddenly Kishibe can’t find it in himself to draw it out on you any longer, is done handing out pleasure piece by piece, as if he were passing out candy to savor. He wants to pour pleasure over you, wants you to drown in it, to fall so deeply into it that there’s nowhere to surface to, lost in an endless sea.

One strong arm slides under your hips and pulls you up into a better position, fingers digging into your hip as Kishibe begins to fuck you in quick, steady strokes. His forehead is pressed to your chest, cheek in plush of your breast as he controls his groans, a dark satisfaction choking out the last tendrils of guilt as your fingers desperately weave their way back into his hair once more, cradling his head tightly to your chest. There’s no more irritation; the sharp sting feels like a fucking prize, knowing that the price is an overwhelming pleasure that he can feel through you. You feel so good around him, responding so well to his movements, angling your own hips and moving back into his thrusts, that he can’t stop a continuous stream of curses and praises from melting into your skin.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me sweetheart, so good. Squeezing me so tight, wrapped around me so perfect. You feel good? Everything you fucking wanted, hm?” He bites at the flesh of your chest as you tighten around his dick, goosebumps rising visibly across your skin.

You feel like a live current, so electric and buzzing with energy and it feels like there’s nowhere for it to go, zipping up and down your body only to return, shivering and sparking deep in your belly. You try to articulate that this is way more than you ever thought you could ask for, but all that comes out are bitten hiccups of his name and yes and please please please.

Kishibe is more than happy to oblige, grunting and groaning in his throat, way past the point of feeling guilty that you’re losing your virginity on a goddamn couch, too caught up in your drunken slurs, more from pleasure than whiskey.

He grins as your fingers clench around his bicep, scrabbling as you gasp out, "Ohh, nngh—Sir wait, wait! Please I'm gonna—"

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Kishihe groans, feeling the rippling constrictions of your sweet pussy drag him closer to the edge.

"No, I'm—I'm gonna pee! Please."

Kishibe’s s head picks up off your chest immediately, and his thrusts stuffer. "Yeah?" You watch panting as his eyes sharpen, hips coming to a full blessed stop. You feel a bare moment of relief before its ripped away and he's moving again, fucking you a little faster than before. "Then go ahead."

You give a wordless cry, shame and pleasure clamoring in the shrill note, your head shaking back and forth in denial. You can't hold it, not if he does that.

"No?" Kishibe feels like the Devil himself as he shifts his angle into a grind, still fast and controlled, watching your features twist as you keep fighting to hold it back. "Am I not making you feel good?"

"Sir!" Your whine draws the title out, panicked, but your knees dig tightly into his hips, your body at least betraying you. Kishibe works a hand under one of your thighs and presses it towards your chest. One of his palms drags down over your tits, stroking down your stomach to put a gentle pressure over your pelvis. Your eyes fly wide and a moan is forced from your lips as the awful urgency thickens, bliss flooding close to the surface.

"If I press here you won't be able to stop it."

Kishibe's stare catches your glazed eyes, dark and hungry. His orgasm is approaching steadily now, pleasure whispering selfish instruction in his ear, and he's unable to help but listen. "You'll come so hard it won't matter anymore. What's a little mess for some pleasure, hm sweetheart? If you want it just tell me."

Your breath catches. His dick keeps hitting that spot in you that makes it impossible to think rationally. He's making you feel so good, goading you in that voice of his that you've worshipped fervently night after night in your apartment, a pillow as your altar.

The voice in your head is screaming no. It's pee. He'll think you're disgusting and you look up to him so much. You don't want him to associate you with something like this, to so thoroughly debase yourself. But he's making you feel amazing, his cock bullying all your softest parts with undefinable experience. You've heard the gossip about how your mentor likes to spend his nights, but how are you supposed to complain when he's making you feel like this? And he's the one saying you can p—

"Get outta yer fucking head and come for me, girl." Kishibe growls through his teeth, palm pressing down firmly, calloused thumb spreading over your neglected clit.

You shatter and cry out, clutching at him tightly, no room for apologies as you tear red lines down his back. Warmth gushes against his pelvis, but the hot shame holds no candle to the blistering pleasure crackling across all your nerves. Listening to Kishibe groan and curse, the feel of him breaking down into something more genuine as his hips snap roughly into yours in chase of the bliss you’re already neck deep in, you’ve never felt more satisfied. He finishes inside you with a deep grunt and your insides flutter again at the milky warmth, your leg curling tight around his ass because you want all of it, you don’t want it to end yet.

But finally, his cock twitches one last time inside you and begins to soften, and Kishibe collapses on top of you with a little puff. You’re damn near ready to purr in happiness at the full weight of him across your body. His cheek rests between your breasts, but you’re unbothered by the scratch of his stubble as his breathing gets deeper, steadier.

Both of you are covered in sweat, cum, and other unspeakables but you’ve never been so comfortable. His softened cock slips out of you, and one of his arms slips under your waist and you feel your heart thud unevenly as he moves to his side and pulls you closer. His head is still buried in your chest, your one leg tangled between his thighs and your other draped over his hip. His eyes are closed, breathing deep and you find it in yourself to cautiously run your fingers through his hair. Kishibe gives a soft, sleepy rumble of contentment and you glow.

The feel of his hair between your fingers is the last thing you remember before the most luxurious drag of sleep tempts you into its clutch of darkness.

You wake somewhere you don’t recognize, your head thick and pounding awfully. You blink slowly in the low lighting and try to sit up, but your head spins and the pain increases so you let yourself fall back with a low whimper.

You turn on your side, fingers curling into the soft covers over you. Last night had been amazing, but you’re certain you had passed out on on the couch, and as you peer around the curtain-darkened room, it’s easy to tell it’s not the same. You don’t remember being moved; you’d like to say you would have woken up if someone had, but even you can smell the alcohol seeping from your pores.

Heart pounding unevenly, you try to calm yourself. You’d been dressed in a soft pair of boxer briefs and a tshirt far too large for you, and while you still feel a little bit sticky, you honestly had expected far worse—someone had tried to clean you up. Your heart starts to race now, fluttering and far too fast at the idea of Kishibe taking care of you. Those are a lot of extra steps to take for someone who preached respectable distance.

“There’s painkillers on the nightstand.”

You finally manage to sit up at the promise of pain relief, seeing the foil tablets and a glass of water, and glance at Kishibe in the doorway, looking about as disheveled as you expect you do. He’s in a loose tshirt and a soft, worn looking pair of sleep pants, blinking sleep and liquor from his eyes as he peers in at you.

“I’m gonna shower, you should too. There’s towels in the bathroom there.” He nods his head deeper into your room and you see another doorway, probably leading to the bathroom. “And you’re out of luck on breakfast. All the place has is coffee and water.”

Your stomach gives a displeased turn at that, desperate for something to offset last night’s alcohol. Before you can say anything, not even so much as a thank you, Kishibe turns and shuffles down the hall.

Slowly, you ease out of the bed and gratefully swallow down half the water before even glancing at the pills, but your screaming head does make sure you toss them back as well, before you peek down the hallway your mentor had disappeared down. You hear the sound of running water and follow it, wandering through the doorway to the room he obviously slept in last night, the bed an unkempt mess of blankets. The door to the bathroom is closed, and there’s already steam filtering through the gaps.

Letting an uncharacteristic determination carry you forward, you open the door and begin stripping off your clothes.

“Get out, sweetheart.” Kishibe’s voice sounds tired and distant, filling you with nerves that you refuse to let show on your face as you ignore him slip into the shower.

He’s working soap through his hair, leveling you with a deeply unimpressed look that would have sent you skittering before last night, before he called you his sweet little mess, before he called you good fucking girl. You take a deep breath and speak your mind.

"I want that again."

His response is flat, immediate. "Not gonna happen."

"Why not? Was it not good?" You look embarrassed and distraught at the thought and Kishibe heaves a sigh.

"How good it was has nothin’ to do with why we can't do this again."

“So you regret it?”

Kishibe isn’t sure where he stands on that yet. “Didn’t say that.”

"But then..."

"But what? I told you this was a bad idea didn't I? You should've chosen someone else. Anyone other than me."

You get a little salty at that. "I might be younger than you," Kishibe gives a sardonic huff "—but I'm still old enough to make decisions for myself."

"Old enough to make your own decisions, huh."

You shift under the water as he gives you a tired stare, his gaze sharpening into something more contemplative, glinting dangerously.

"So you're saying you want that again?" Kishibe questions calmly.

"Yes," you whisper, uncaring if it makes you sound desperate.

"If we do I've got some stipulations," he warns, voice low.

"Like what," your breath hitches as he leans closer, the water getting hotter against your back as he reaches past you to adjust the temperature.

"Well for starters," he grumbles, "I don't have any interest in going to your place. It's here or nothing."

"Fine." Your response is immediate, relief coloring your tone that you're not being immediately shut out.

"And this arrangement will be temporary, no matter how long it goes on," Kishibe continues slowly, his fingers coming up to pinch your lips together, cutting off whatever you were opening your mouth to say. "I'm not the kind of man that would treat ya like you're nothin'. I'm gonna tell you you're sexy when I've got you under me and I'm gonna clean up whatever mess I make of you, so I need to know you're not going to confuse common decency and respect with love, got it?"

You nod slowly, struggling to wrap your mind around the weight of his words. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, you just want more of whatever you can get. It's just a crush, maybe you'll figure out how to squash your feelings somewhere down the line. So you get a little hurt along the way, so what? You're not entirely sure how any of that is a problem and why he looks so serious.

"Anything else?" He hasn't spoken for a minute, but you can still see deep thought etched into his expression.

Kishibe glances at you, soap dripping from his hair down his neck. "Yeah, one more thing."

It's the most damning thing. Makima herself would be proud of him for this. This kind of thing is more her style, but he's already made it this far.

"Ya have to join the civilian sector."

He senses more than feels you stiffen behind him, closing his eyes and beginning to rinse his hair out as he waits for you to speak first. He's not blind, not anymore—after last night he'd really have to be to not understand the way you've been looking at him, probably since the beginning. Kishibe doesn't know how he didn't see it sooner, probably willful ignorance. But his eyes have been opened and he can't unsee it; you're a brat; you wear your heart on your sleeve, and for whatever reason…its flag is flying his colors. So he's going to use that, and you can thank him when you survive the year.

"Join the civilian sector?" Your voice trembles.

Kishibe glances down to see you chewing your lower lip. "Or quit. Find a cozy desk job somewhere. Either works."

"Why?" Your demand is fierce but it's weak; you look like a scruffy little kitten that needs shelter but too scared to come out of the rain. Kishibe can see you crumbling already, making his final stab. Why you'd want him this bad is beyond him, but dirty tactics have never been beneath him.

"If we're doin’ this, you're going to be available to me when I want you. Otherwise I can find others, like I've been doing. Finish up in here, and I'll make some coffee. Might as well go to the office together."

Despair crosses your features, and Kishibe lets the silence do the last of the work, stepping out of the stream and reaching for a towel. He makes quick work of drying off and getting dressed, bones aching for coffee. Curiosity pangs deep in his nerves as he wonders why killing yourself in Public Safety is even worth that expression, and why he’s equally as important as whatever it is. He tries to put it out of his mind and fails, fingers tapping on the expensive countertop.

As the coffee percolates, Kishibe hears the water shut off and the mental image of you stepping out of his shower flickers through his mind, ghosting along the memories of the way you felt beneath him last night. He tries and fails to admit to himself he’s not coming out entirely on top in this situation.

When you finally slip into his kitchen, dressed in your crumpled uniform from last night, you’re no longer wearing that brokenhearted little face, and Kishibe braces himself for whatever little pep talk you managed to give yourself while he was gone. He pushes a mug towards you and the sugar he somehow found while he was waiting.

“I have my own stipulations,” you grumble finally, accepting the mug without looking at him, spooning sugar into it. He wants to wince at the shriek of metal on glass as you stir, but he doesn’t.

“If I have to quit the hunter society to be ‘available to you’, then you have to be available to me.” Your eyes are a little heated as they finally meet his, and Kishibe gives a noncommittal hum. “Meaning you don’t get to sleep around. Just with me.”

Ah. Makima would be proud of you too, Kishibe muses to himself. He decides to let you feel that victory and puts on a show, feigning annoyance. He drums his fingers on the counter and gives you a dry, measured look. “What, sweetheart, want me to get tested or something?”

You rise to his bait, snapping a little. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Fine.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. “Maybe you should too, since you’re so worried about my health.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks at the thought of making that appointment, but you push through it. “Fine, I will. I’ll be needing to get on birth control anyways.” The barest hint of shock flickers through his expression before he slams it back to its usual tired smirk.

“Anything else?” He asks, sarcasm barely kissing the edge of his tone.

Your thoughts scramble to all the things you’d listed to yourself in the shower but with him looking at you like that, bemused, confident, smug, you forget most of them. You latch onto one thing and give him a glare. “I get a key. And I can sleep here whenever I want. I’m not waiting outside in the cold to be your booty call.”

Kishibe gives you a look and starts to pull a pen out of his jacket but changes his mind. He watches all the bravado and irritation drain from your expression as he steps into your space, melting into something else, something expectant, electric. He pretends he doesn’t see it, pretends that his blood doesn’t pick up at the sight of it, and whispers the passcode to the apartment, so close to your ear that he could bite it. Could.

He pulls back and listens to your shuddering exhale, tilting your chin towards him. “That’s for you only. I don’t give people access to my personal space, got it?”

You nod dumbly, eyes wide and body hot as his dark eyes flicker to your lips.

“Then I guess we gott’a deal, sweetheart.”

#kishibe x reader #kishibe smut #csm x reader #csm smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut

1K notes · View notes

badmuni · 1 year

Text

enhypen x-ray 🔍

★ . ꜝꜞ ᳝ ࣪ ( the way they communicate with their s/o ) ☁️ׂ ʬʬ

₍⁠₍ 김선우 ₎⁠₎ sunoo

“how was your day?” “tell me everything.”

sunoo is incredibly interested and wants to know everything about his s/o's life, even the bad outcomes.

“did you have dinner already?” “please don't skip any meals !”

sunoo is constantly concerned with their wellbeing and health. he pays attention to these details since he is aware that some people are careless with food and he doesn't want his partner to be.

“you can count on me, baby. i love you. i love you so much i can't even breath”

he likes to show his affection for them sometimes even sounding a little dramatic, but that's just how he want it to be. sunoo enjoys expressing his emotions, which usually results in him sending them lengthy (romantic) texts. or placing calls...

₍⁠₍ 西村力 ₎⁠₎ ni-ki

“did you miss me? don't lie, i know you missed me.”

riki is cute and provocative all at once, and he enjoys receiving special treatment from his lover. he just acts like that every time he visits them.

“i wanna go out with you again, baby.”

riki enjoys spending time with his s/o. he likes taking them on adventures and to new places because it makes him the happiest. also, because he likes adrenaline (way too much).

“i bought something to you... it's surprise so i'm not going to reveal what it is, but try to guess it.”

riki (often) spends his money buying things to his s/o. sometimes a plushie or maybe a T-shirt that says “i love my boyfriend” with a lil pic of him in it (thats so corny lol). or sometimes a jewelry, rings, bracelets, necklaces. he totally spoils his s/o in his own way.

₍⁠₍ 심재윤 ₎⁠₎ jake

“darling, do you think this looks good?”

always asking his s/o opinions on things, doesn't really matter the topic, jake will wants to hear their thoughts on it because he has a lot of faith in their taste.

“i woke up, tidied up the room because yk jay slaves me, so i went out to work, then i came home, but it was too late so i went to dinner [...]”

jake is very open with his s/o, telling them everything, since he thinks it's cool to do so. as he appreciates having a strong link with them, he believes that doing this brings them even closer together.

“BABY YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED”

he just CAN'T be privy to a gossip; he'll quickly relay it to his partner. as soon as he knows something, he just goes there and tells them about it. jake just can't keep secrets from his partner...

₍⁠₍ 양정원 ₎⁠₎ jungwon

“i dreamed about you last night... it was pretty clingy but i like it”

jungwon thinks about his s/o constantly, even when he's sleeping... :( and he makes clear they are aware about it.

“how are you feeling today, darling?”

wonnie is very sensitive to the feelings of his s/o and appreciates that they keep him informed of their concerns and feelings throughout the day.

“better you be careful, i'm going to kidnap you tonight😼”

unplanned little walks through the city at night is something wonnie enjoys doing with his lover in order to easy his mind and feel peaceful.

₍⁠₍ 이희승 ₎⁠₎ heeseung

“i wish you were here...”

many times, as an introvert, heeseung just wants to escape from social events. but tbh, he thinks that if his s/o were around, the whole experience would be better for him.

“i was counting the minutes and seconds to see you”

heeseung is sweet most of the time, and plus, he's very good using words. he also can't just get away from someone he loves so much for too long or he starts to get crazy.

“oh- you want water, baby? don't worry, i got you!”

man simply don't miss a single opportunity to please his partner or just do things for them. they want or need something? heeseung is there doing for them.

₍⁠₍ 박성훈 ₎⁠₎ sunghoon

“you have such a good taste...”

“oh- why do you have a good taste? because you date me, tsk”

hoon is constantly valuing himself, almost as though he enjoys pampering. so he expects his s/o to agree with him that he's a handsome man.

“you look so good today. actually you look good everyday... you're the prettiest, baby”

never disappointing, sunghoon wants his s/o to be always confident about themselves just like he is, so he often compliments them.

“are you feeling good? wants to do something else?”

when he and his s/o goes out, hoon worries if they're enjoying what they're doing. if the crowd seems too loud, sunghoon quickly wants to take his partner from there. he values have a good atmosphere around him and his partner, that's why he gets worried.

₍⁠₍ 박종성 ₎⁠₎ jay

“did you know productivity is a concept created by the capitalism?”

jay is such a nerdy and that's something not much talked about. he is always discovering new things and randomly telling his s/o about it. jay absolutely adores debating, too.

“your eyes are so pretty. for real, the prettiest eyes i've ever seen. they shine with the sunlight... i don't wanna stop look at them.”

also, jay is always noticing every detail about his s/o. be it about their physical characteristics or personality.

“bought this for you since last week i heard you say you wanted this.”

jay literally remembers every last information since he likes to make his partner feel special. jay demonstrates his love by being a devoted person, as you can tell from the bottom of his heart.

# masterlist

[ ★ ] — notes: hey guys, i just created this new thing 'enhypen x-ray' where i'll make posts like this about their acts and behavior.

thank u for reading ! and let me know if you like it :)

2K notes · View notes

sevi-rous · 1 year

Text

AN ARTIST FOR AN ARTIST 📜

xavier thorpe.

word count : 1.196

genre : fluff, schoolmates to lovers (?), mutual pining

warnings : bad grammar i think, a few errors [ please ignore ! ]

being raised in a family of artistic vampires was an emotional roller coaster. there was your mother, who had a ridiculous fondness for landscape painting. your father, who enjoyed abstract paintings and portrait drawings. your brother, who was a fan of realism. and, of course, you, who was a mixture of them all.

you were walking around campus, looking for anything interesting to draw or paint. you came to a halt near the archery field and noticed xavier thorpe sitting down with his bow beside him. you turned around and sat down on the nearest chair.

you began drawing him because you found his appearance intriguing. his face shape was... pretty. of course, in your own opinion. your gaze alternates between him and your sketchbook. your fingertips were filthy from smudging the pencil. you were finished in a matter of minutes. you sighed and stood up to return to your dorm.

"oh, who's that?" inquired your roommate, yoko. you flinched and instinctively shut your sketchbook. "uh, no one. it's my oc. original character, i mean..." you said as you sat up in bed. "are you sure? that looks exactly like xavier thorpe. since when was he your 'original character?'" she asks, chuckling.

you sighed and leaned back in your bed. turning to the side "oooh, do you like him? i can set you up with him," she whistles as she walks to her side of the room. "and how will you do that? you're not even close, yoko. i think you don't even talk together," you say, sitting up again, arms crossed across your chest.

"oh shush, [name]. we're not close, but we have this secret society. i hope you understand," she said as she opened her notebook. she takes out a pen and starts writing. she then folds it into an airplane and launches it at you.

you caught the plane and unfolded the paper. It was written there,

"xavier thorpe's phone number — xxx-xxxx-xxx

thank me later, ♡"

you give her a blank look before taking your phone and leaving the room. "stay safe, my lovely [name!]," she exclaims before laughing.

you put your hood on when you noticed it was raining outside. you walked through the halls, holding the paper that yoko had given you as well as your phone. you went around in circles, debating whether or not to text him. a notification appeared as you were about to enter his phone number.

from unknown:

hey, i saw you staring. do we have a problem?

to unknown:

who even r u

fom unknown:

dang you already forgot? seems like you were having a good time staring at me earlier

lol kidding

it's xavier

to unknown:

sorry i stared, didn't know u saw me

from unknown:

how couldn't i? you have a very powerful aura

to unknown:

i do?

from unknown:

yeah

what do you say about meeting up rn? i'm bored

to unknown:

um sure i guess

i have nothing to do anyways

from unknown:

i know

unknown started sharing their location with you.

you ran back to your dorm room, your fingers running through your hair. you rushed through the door, grabbing your sketchbook in haste. "woah, easy [name], are you okay?" yoko asks, but you've already left. "my roomie has a crush. i can't wait to tease her about this," she sighs and laughs.

when you see him waiting for you, you hide in a corner. he was sketching something in his own sketchbook. he had airpods in both of his ears. you can tell he's lost in the music because he kept bopping his head to the beat. it's nice to see him at ease.

you approach him slowly, but he is too preoccupied with drawing. you sit next to him, peering at what he's drawing. he flinched seeing you next to him, then hugged his sketchbook as if it were going to vanish. you both look at each other in shock, but when you see his face, you start laughing.

"why are you laughing?" he inquired, removing one of his airpods and placing it in its case. he flipped the sketchbook over and placed it beside him so you couldn't see it. "your face is hilarious," you continued to laugh.

"is that supposed to be a compliment or not?" you ask, making him scoff. "we only met today, and you're already making fun of me," he said, putting his hand on his chest and acting hurt. you laughed at his antics and looked through his sketchbook. "what did you draw earlier?"

"uh, random stuff. do you want to see my ability?" he asks, his gaze drawn to yours. "sure, bet it's cool."

"oh, it is," he laughs as he takes up his sketchbook. he turns to a page where he drew a spider. he holds his hands above the drawing, and you can see the spider slowly emerge from it. "woah, that's cool. is it real?" you exclaim, your eyes wide with admiration and curiosity. "no, squish it."

you let the spider crawl onto your hands then you squish the spider. the spider vanishes into dust. xavier can't seem to take his gaze away from you as your mouth forms a 'o.'

"say... why were you staring at me earlier? at the archery field?" he asks abruptly, jolting you awake from your daydream. "oh that. um," you fiddle with your fingers, debating whether or not to show him what you drew.

you sighed, lost. you reached for your sketchbook, which was resting on your thighs, and turned to the last page. you look away from him as you hand him your book.

he silently scans the page. you were clearly thinking a lot. 'was he mad that I drew him without his permission?' 'does the drawing look bad? "Am I bad at portrai—'

when he handed you back your book, you snapped out of your thoughts. when you looked at him, he was looking straight ahead. he appeared to have a lot on his mind.

"is it bad?" you wonder nervously. you were on the verge of fleeing, too embarrassed to listen to what he had to say. he gives you a quick glance before returning his attention to the scenery in front of him.

you were about to turn away when you noticed a small smile on his face. "no one's ever drawn me. i figured no one would draw me because I'm the artist. but you did. it's nice seeing my face on your sketchbook. it's nice. really nice," he rambles, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

"actually, i've been drawing you as well. i saw you once at Weathervane and you looked... cool. i don't usually leave nevermore, but i came to stop by weathervane every single day just to see you. oh god, that... sounds creepy, sorry," he laughs nervously, avoiding your gaze.

"no, it's fine. you're cool. this is all... so cool," you say, smiling up at the ceiling. "thank you," he mumbles.

"hm? for what?"

"for drawing me."

"And thank you," you say with a smile.

he looks at you, puzzled.

"for drawing me as well."

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe fluff #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #wednesday #xavier thorpe u own my heart 🫶🏻

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rfxiii · 5 months

Note

could I request hcs for franklin, trevor, and michael on how they would go about apologizing or making it up to you after they did something wrong (I feel like I'm not making sense lol 😆 but basically I'm asking how would they get back on your good side after messing up big time) if requests are close, I apologize!!

(This totally makes sense, no worries! And my requests are always open, so feel free to send an ask whenever you’d like- I’m just a little slow atm. Also, I’m sorry about the long wait, and I hope you like it ☺️)

Franklin, Trevor, and Michael making up with you after an argument:

Franklin Clinton:

Arguments with Franklin are fairly rare. He’s a pretty level headed, loyal partner. But, like every relationship, arguments do happen.

Despite being kind, loyal, and loving, Franklin is also stubborn. It can be the cause of several of your arguments. And can also lead to him refusing to admit he’s wrong right away.

But once he does realize he’s been wrong, and understands that he’s upset you, he’ll go to the ends of the earth to make it up to you.

He’ll come to you like a sad puppy- curling up beside and gently taking your hands in his. He’s had time to think about what went wrong, and what was done to start the argument to begin with. He wants to talk it over, wants to get to the root of the problem to make sure it never happens again. He’ll stay up all night talking with you, and apologizing, until he’s sure everything is resolved and that you’ve forgiven him.

He may buy you something small and sweet the day after the fight. A teddy bear or a bouquet of roses aren’t uncommon after the two of you have had a disagreement. And for a few days afterwards, he treats you especially gently. He hates hurting your feelings or making you mad. So, he wants to prove just how much he does love you. Even if you two do argue.

Trevor Philips:

Arguments with Trevor are fairly commonplace. He’s set in his insane ways, and always self assured that he’s right. He’s more apt to listen to reason when it comes to you. But his erratic, wild behavior, and bad, dangerous habits are normally the root of arguments between you two.

There are several ways things can go after you two argue. But more often than not, it’s a couple days of passive aggressive comments and the silent treatment, until he’s convinced that this is the fight that’s going to split you guys apart. And then comes the waterworks.

He comes, literally, crawling back to you on his hands and knees, sobbing and snot nosed as he begs you not to leave him. He’s usually fairly high when he breaks down like this, so talking to him is slightly difficult. But he babbles at you non stop- telling you how much he loves you, how sorry he is, how he’s “such a worthless shit”.

The true talking it out usually comes the next morning, or afternoon, depending on how fucked up he got. But after his tears dry up and he’s caught his breath from all the sobbing, his usual method of making up with you is desperate, clingy sex. He doesn’t have a very good grasp on such big emotions, so he shows them physically instead of verbally. And you can feel his love and remorse through every press of his lips and every touch of his rough, scarred hands.

Michael De Santa:

He has issues with loyalty and honesty. You knew that before you got with him. But it doesn’t make the arguments that ensure because of it any easier.

He’s stubborn, self assured, and hot headed. Getting Michael to admit he’s wrong is like pulling teeth. And getting him to apologize is harder than winning a one man war. Once you two start to fight, it can last for days. And because of his petty, passive aggressive attitude, he sometimes tends to make things twice as bad.

It’s almost never that you hear him actually say “I’m sorry”. But eventually, after a few days of fighting, he realizes he’s being a child and understands that he was wrong. Even if he won’t admit it. So, he shows it the best way he knows how. Through gifts.

You’ll come home to find expensive jewelry on your pillow, or a new outfit hung up for you in the closet. He’ll have your favorite dinner made, and he’ll buy the wine he knows you like the best. He won’t apologize to you. But over dinner, he’ll take your hand, tell you how beautiful you look, and say something like “Let’s not fight anymore, angel. You know I hate seeing you upset.”

You know he’s too prideful to apologize. So, usually it’s just easier to cut your losses and accept that, while he’ll never verbally apologize, this is his version of saying “I’m sorry”. You know he truly is apologetic, and you love him, so you both agree to let this go and move on. He’s a good man, he’s just a little emotionally immature at times.

#gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #michael de santa #franklin clinton #gta x reader #x reader #/reader #franklin clinton x reader #franklin clinton/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #michael de santa x reader #michael de santa/reader

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meanbossart · 3 months

Note

I appreciate how you write Astarion so, SO much. I feel like way too many fic writers infantilize him to a point where I honestly start wondering if I'm the one who misinterpreted him so badly.

I'd love to know more about what you think of his character and his arc. Personally I saw him and immediately went "oh god this guy is gonna be the irritating tumblr sexyman of the year🙄" and it took me until Araj basically to warm up to him. What were your initial thoughts and did they change much while playing the game?

OH thank you so much!!! That's a shame if it's the case, and a little surprising to me, to be honest! While he's definitely written be an aloof jerk a lot of the time, I always found him to be surprisingly mature and introspective whenever he's not dishing out witty remarks. He comes off to me as the kind of person who learned to benefit from seeming dumber than he actually is, overall.

HAHA I had a VERY similar experience, not just towards Astarion but all the characters, really (I really disliked Shadowheart at the beginning, too). I had only seen pictures of him and pretty much expected a vapid character that was being carried to stardom because of a talented VA - and because people go nuts for anne rice style vampires lol.

While I was definitely enjoying his voice lines from the start (Again kudos to Neil) I definitely wasn't expecting much else. He piqued my interest after so devastatingly turning my character down at the tiefling party without me even having inquired, and that's when I, the gamer, was like "well, alright, I GOTTA fuck this guy now" (this is also where DU drow's personality began to come out as you can probably guess)

Obviously, if you have two neurons to rub together you can gather pretty quickly that he's not trying to woo you because you're so interesting and wonderful, so I started getting curious! With that dynamic being so different from what you usually expect of romances in these types of games, plus the charming way in which he is written, I started being won over.

I think what really did it was how gradually his attitude changed when responding to new, mostly trivial dialogue options and doing his greetings as you earned his trust, and ESPECIALLY with how he responds to your tav when you express any kind of fear or insecurity during his romance - which was with a lot of sincerity and confidence in his resolve to support you, and in you as a person, a complete 180 from his usual front - Which, again, makes me all the more surprised to hear that he's often painted with such an immature brush.

And obviously he has a DEEPLY ugly side to him (if you've read ANE, hopefully it's clear that I know this, and that I like to explore it just as much as anything else lmao) but it's very interesting to me how it seem to always come in the form of outbursts, rather than a constant evil-streak, usually followed by a glimpse of self-awareness. It feels very much in line with someone who's actually making a great deal of effort to manage their RAMPANT emotions and going through a lot of internal conflict in the process.

GAH. Yeah if you can't tell by this friggin' thesis I just wrote, I love the way they wrote this character a lot and I was definitely proven PROFOUNDLY wrong in my first impression of him - which, if that's not irony at it's finest I don't know what is.

And as an aside! I also very much appreciate that he's a "queer" coded character who's effeminate (in the Old Homo kind of way, but I digress) and flamboyant, but taken Dead Fucking Seriously. With as much progress as we've made in LGBT rep in media, I still often feel like gay men will only get that kind of treatment for as long as they "Aren't That Gay" (I know Astarion doesn't have a set sexuality - But lets not mince words: stereotypes exist, and he fits into most of them) and as a thin-wristed gay guy who's a little too found of linen shirts, I can honestly say that experiencing a character like that helped me with my own confidence.

#ask #astarion #bg3 spoilers

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arctickat2400 · 1 month

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Love You More ~ Henry Cavill

Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count: 2470

Warnings: insecure!reader, fluff, angst, tiny bit of blood, negative self talk

A/N 1: You can picture yourself wearing whatever you want in this, but I've originally pictured myself wearing a cropped tank top and underwear cuz even though I'm insecure about my body, I love chilling around the house without pants, and in my head I know Henry loves it too lol

A/N 2: You will see in this imagine that I mention a blanket. It is a type of sensory blanket, a small square of fabric that my mom made me that contains eight tags made of ribbon around the edges. It helps me when I'm anxious (which is basically 24/7) in which I will rub the tags between my fingers to calm my mind, keep my mind and hands occupied.

Hope you enjoy!!

***

You hate what you see when you look in the mirror - your soft belly, thick thighs, wide hips, love handles, cellulite-covered skin. You loved when friends and family complimented you, but your mind never believed them. Looking at each and every detail of your body, your mind becomes overwhelmed and your emotions become too intense. A shrill scream escapes your throat as you ram your fist into the glass, shattering it to pieces. You watch in tears as the shattered glass falls from the surface before your legs give out and you collapse to the cold tile floor.

Henry had just gotten home about an hour ago. You had seemed fine then, happy to see him as usual, jumping into his arms as he pulled you into a sweet ‘hello’ kiss. However, as he sat at the kitchen island on his laptop reading over his script waiting for you to join him again, Henry knew that that had all changed when he heard your heart wrenching scream.

Henry paid no mind to the bar stool toppling over as he stood and ran up the stairs toward the sound that scared him most, Kal right on his heels. Rushing into the bathroom to see your curled up in tears on the floor, Henry doesn’t hesitate to kneel down beside your shaking body. Taking your trembling body in his arms, Henry tries to keep his own tears at bay when he sees the blood and tiny glass shards on your knuckles. Looking up at the now non-existent mirror and the shattered glass across the floor, Henry knows exactly what’s going on in your mind, holding you tighter in his strong embrace as you cry in agony. Henry looked at Kal sitting patiently in the bathroom door, and he knew he was just as worried as his father was about his mother.

You’ve always been insecure about your body, even though Henry never ceases to tell you how much he loves your body. He thought that after you met him, you were getting better. And you have, but still, on those not so rare days, you’ll break down in tears. He hates that nothing has been able to help you long term. But, Henry is always there to hold you and take care of you, no matter what, and he vows to always be there for you.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you,” Henry whispers in your ear softly as he rocks you in his lap. You hold on to his arm, squeezing his bicep in your grip despite the pain in your right hand. Henry runs his fingers through your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head, trying to soothe your angered mind.

Henry listens as your labored breaths begin to calm, looking down to see your eyes closed. He let out a sigh of relief, even if it was only temporary, when he realized you had fallen asleep.

You’ve been suffering with chronic fatigue for so long and it’s taken a toll on you physically, mentally, and emotionally. It prevents you from doing certain everyday things. Henry’s been there for you through it all and you can’t imagine how hard it would be without him. You could never thank him enough for how amazing he’s been since you met. But he hates that neither of you have been able to find a way to help. Some may say that what you’re going through needs to be fixed. However, Henry doesn’t want to fix you, because he doesn’t believe there’s anything broken. You just need a bit of extra love and care, and he has vowed to spend the rest of his life giving you that and more.

Henry, still holding your sleeping form in his arms, your head lying against his chest, leans forward into the bathroom cabinet under the sink to grab the rubbing alcohol and a washcloth. He takes a pair of tweezers and begins pulling out the small, yet knowingly painful shards of glass from your skin. He was thankful you were out cold so you didn’t have to experience the pain consciously. Kal, having laid down in the doorway, cried out after having smelled the blood and watching Henry take care of his mum.

“It’s alright, buddy. Mum’s alright,” Henry assures his dog, looking over with a half smile to see Kal’s face lying on his paws, staring at the scene in front of him.

After all the pieces were out, Henry washes over your knuckles with the alcohol, cleaning the blood from your cuts and down your hands where the blood ran. Once clean, he wraps gauze around your hand before picking you up and carrying you bridal style to your shared bed. Henry places you down carefully, covering you in the comforter before placing a sweet kiss to your forehead. He patted the bed softly for Kal to jump up and keep you company while Henry went back into the bathroom to pick up the broken glass.

Henry couldn’t bear to leave you after what you just went through, so after cleaning, he sat in the recliner beside your bed, looking over you to make sure you were okay. Smiling sweetly at the sight of Kal’s large, fluffy head laying down on your thigh, Henry picked up his book from his bedside table to read. He always kept an eye on you, looking up every now and then when you would stir, only to turn over to get more comfortable in your sleep.

After a while, it seems Henry had been reading the same sentences over and over, having trouble comprehending the words on the pages. His mind was plagued with thoughts of you and how all he wanted to do was help you, take care of you, love you so you wouldn’t think such horrible things about yourself anymore.

The anxiety got the best of him, needing to get up and walk around instead. Henry stood up, placing a kiss on your forehead and, making sure you were still alright, he headed down the stairs quietly, Kal staying behind while cuddling up next to you. Henry paced around the loft - through the living room, down the hall, even going back up the stairs and into the bathroom before coming back out and passing you again on the bed. Kal raises his head each time Henry would pass before laying his head back down beside you.

Henry finally ends up back downstairs and in the kitchen, leaning on the island, rubbing his face in slight distress. Henry hated seeing you in such pain. He hated that he couldn’t take the pain away, or at least some of it, take some of the weight off your shoulders and help you carry it. He hated that he couldn’t help you and make it all better. But he also knew that he would not stop trying, and he would continue to love you through it all.

Henry is in his own world when you decide to make your appearance, Kal following you down the steps and into the kitchen. He hadn’t noticed either of you until you came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, laying your head between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, darling,” He greets softly, a sweet smile coming to his lips at just the mere presence of you. He brings one hand up to smooth over your bandaged hand that’s placed across his chest, intertwining your fingers. Henry turns in your embrace, taking you into his arms and holding your head to his chest, brushing his hand through your hair, his other hand gently rubbing your side.

The longer you stand there, the easier it is for your mind to become overwhelmed again with negative thoughts. Henry feels you start to shiver, hearing your soft sniffles as tears cascade down your cheeks.

“Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay, baby. Everything’s alright,” Henry tries calming you before placing his hands under your thighs and picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, clinging to him like a koala. He rubs your back as he carries you to the couch. Sitting down, he holds you in his lap for a little while longer, Kal jumping up on the couch and laying beside you, placing his head on your thigh, looking up at you with sad eyes. As your sniffles and cries die down, Henry, with a bit of hesitation of your own, pushes you back, holding you close enough to be able to see your beautiful, but sorrowful red eyes.

“What’s going on, sweetheart? Tell me what’s on your mind,” Henry requests as he brushes his thumb over your red, tear stained cheeks, looking into your eyes with such worry and sadness, yet the love and adoration never ceases.

You look down at your hands, picking at the skin, before Henry takes both your hands in his while leaning forward to grab your blanket from the coffee table, handing it to you.

“I’ve just… I’ve been so tired lately. And I’ve been eating so much that I’ve gained weight. I’ve hardly been able to control my hunger and my mind is plagued by food, and all I can think about is how much I hate myself and my body because I can’t control any of this and I’m sick of being so damn tired all the time!” You pause, your breathing becoming heavy and labored, tears rushing from your eyes, as you smooth your fingers over one of the tags on your blanket.

“And it doesn’t help that the thought keeps coming to me that you didn’t sign up for this and I’m scared you might feel like you’re stuck with me and how could you still love me like this?” You almost scream in tears, Kal letting out a worried whine in response. Henry takes you back into his arms, a look of panic on his face as he holds your head against his chest, his other hand smoothing down over your hair.

“Hey, hey, hey, no, baby. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you. This is the only place I want to be. If I could hold you forever, that’s exactly what I’d do,” Henry holds you tight as you cry for the next several minutes, fisting his shirt in your grip as you couldn’t keep your tears at bay.

“Can you look at me now, princess?” Henry asks you, placing his hands on either side of your face, pulling you back to look at him. You sniffle as you lock eyes with his mesmerizing cerulean blue eyes. He gives you a reassuring smile, rubbing his thumbs across your temples.

“Listen very closely, my love. I have told you so many times, and it will never cease to be the truth, darling - no matter how you look, how much you weigh, how much you eat, now matter how much of literally anything you do, I will always, always, love you, no matter what. I don’t care if you lose or you gain weight. I love you for you, and I will always love you. There is not a single thing about you that could change that.” He has to repeat some things so he knows that it will be ingrained in your mind.

“Because the truth is, baby,” Henry pauses briefly with a smile, chuckling. “I can only ever love you more. Every day, when I think I can’t possibly love you more, you will do something crazy or silly, or say something absolutely outrageous, and it just makes me love you so much more. I still don’t know how you do it, but you never cease to amaze me, my sweet baby girl. And nothing about your body will ever change that,” He says it all with a huge smile on his face, his eyes never leaving yours, and you find yourself crying not sad tears, but happy ones now as you rush into Henry’s arms.

“I love you so much,” You whisper in his ear, holding onto him tight, your fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You, my love, are the most magnificent woman I’ve ever met, and there will never be a day where I stop loving you, because it is impossible for me not to love you,” Henry admits, his arms tightening around your torso. He kisses the side of your head before you pull back, placing your hands on either side of his head now, leaning in and pressing your lips to his in a passionate expression of pure love and devotion.

“Now, if you are ever thinking anything negative about your body again, my beautiful girl, you make sure to come straight to me and I will do everything in my power to make those thoughts go away, promise me?” Henry demands, firmly but in sweet assurance.

You nod your head with a small smile, “I promise.” Henry smiles as he looks down and begins rubbing across your tummy with his knuckles.

“You do know that even though I’m not with you for your body, I still believe you are absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous? There is not a single day I don’t look at you and think, ‘Damn, how did I get so lucky to be able to hold this stunning human being in my arms everyday?’ I mean how could someone not love this adorable belly of yours?” Henry chuckles as he leans down and blows a raspberry against your tummy. A deep red blush comes to your cheeks as a laugh erupts from your lips.

“I think it’s the other way around, my love.” You giggle, calming down as Henry, still with a smile on his face, comes back up and looks up into your eyes while rubbing your soft sides, his thumbs brushing over your belly. “How did I get so lucky to meet not only the handsomest man on earth, but the most caring, loving, warmest man with the biggest heart of gold who never ceases to tell me how much he loves me?” You smile shyly, your thumb brushing across his bottom lip.

“We’re just a match made in heaven, my darling,” Henry says as you both laugh softly together, meeting in a sweet kiss, Henry’s hands on either of your thighs, holding you to him.

You feel something cold against your arm and you both look down to see a smiling Kal looking up at both of you. “Hi, sweet boy,” You smile at Kal, running your fingers through the thick fur on his head while you lean forward to lay your head on Henry’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around you, thanking God for this extraordinary woman he gets to call his.

#fluff #angst #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill imagines #Kal Cavill #insecure!reader

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ethereallyjade · 3 months

Text

Pick a Card: Traits of Your F/S

Choose a photo that calls to you and the cards will tell you a message. As always, this is just for fun. Do not take anything seriously or above legal or medical advice. If your interested in personal tarot readings and want to support me, check out my Paid Readings! Masterlist

1 - 2

3 - 4

Images are not mine

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Pile 1

Your F/S might wear big clothes. I'm seeing dresses, baggy clothes, or just oversized things. I'm getting somewhat emo vibes or they might just like black clothing. They are great at keeping optimism and picking themselves back up after periods of grief. Your F/S might have a hard time connecting with others or has had a bit of a rough past in terms of relationships. They could be a bit of a rebel as well or just crave more freedom in their lives. Back to their looks, their clothes might stand out in some way. Something about them or their personality is bold, but they don't even mean to be. They might have a very simple look, but it's so different from those around them that it comes off as bold, because I'm picking up on a very quiet and even reserved energy from them so I don't think their looks are a very conscious choice on their part. Either way, I'm still seeing that they're confident in themselves and have a leader like potential.

Pile 2

Clumsy, and colorful. Might wear sweaters or hoodies a lot. Could have an affinity towards churches? Or maybe really likes historic buildings or museums. Likes to travel. Likes the ocean. They are independent and trust their own decisions. They might move homes a lot and don't like living in one area for too long. They might live or be from somewhere with a cold climate. They have a humble upbringing. Could have come from a broken home, divorced parents, low income, or even faced homelessness at some point, but I'm seeing that they're ready to move on from that or have already. All in all, they're a very talented person and they're ready to take their opportunities. They might be from a different country than you.

Pile 3

Clean, smooth, "Must be perfect." Maybe their a Virgo lmao. I'm seeing that they can be the type of person to put up a front. They appear as well put together, mature, clean, and may even be seen as a leader of sorts, but on the inside they're definitely struggling with something. They might be a really naive person, and find themselves often being taken advantage of by those around them. This could also be taken as they're a very emotional person and need to learn how to put up this courageous front so that they stop being taken advantage of. As far as physical appearance goes, I'm seeing someone who's blond, medium length hair. Might like wearing blues and greens, dresses or long shirts. They might like to accessorize themselves. They may also be the type to really dress up when they leave the house, but dress very casual or im hearing 'bummy' behind closed doors lol.

Pile 4

They like hanging out with friends or even partying and drinking. They love to travel. I'm seeing a very happy and positive person hear. Maybe they can be randomly contemplative or have big dreams which is something their friends find odd about them because they usually have a kind of careless and partying type of personality. On the flip side, I can also see this as being someone that does not like to party. Maybe they're surrounding friends have a careless, parting attitude towards life and they want to break free of that and work towards something they find important. They might not be very close with their friends or feel like they've never fit in with their friend group, and again, dream of going somewhere else or leaving to find their people. They might contemplate moving overseas, so they might either be a foreigner to you or maybe you both move to a new country together. For physical traits, they might have curly hair. I'm seeing a lot of the color red. That might be their favorite color, or a color they wear a lot. Maybe their hair is red. I'm also seeing that they might get dressed up often.

#tarot #love tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a picture #pick a card #pac #channeled message #intuitive readings #intuition #valentines day #valentines

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blue-slxt · 10 months

Text

One Hammock - Chapter 2

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Here's the much requested Part 2 for the one-shot I wrote. I honestly didn't expect it to be as popular as it is and I certainly didn't think I'd write a second part for it, but I'm glad y'all are loving it! This part came out a little longer than I meant for it to, but I got lost in the sauce lol. So I hope you guys enjoy! All the characters are aged up.

Previous Part

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Explicit smut, masturbation (M and F), vouyerism kink?, Fingering, P in V, Creampie, Scenting, One bed trope (kinda), I think that's it

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You've been avoiding Neteyam since the hammock incident because you're trying to figure out your feelings, but you can't avoid him any more when your parents have you stay with the Sully family while they're away.

It had been a week since that night, and you had been avoiding Neteyam. It wasn’t like you were mad at him or anything, you just didn’t really know how to act normally around him in public anymore. Just the mention of his name sent your mind racing with memories of what happened. The few times you did happen to see Neteyam, he seemed perfectly normal. Not an awkward bone in his body. How does he do it? Meanwhile, you were a ball of nerves whenever you were in close proximity to him.

Kiri and Lo’ak take notice in your change lately too. They’ve tried asking you multiple times, but you dismiss them every time. There was no way you could tell them the truth. Nobody wants to hear about their brother doing something like that, especially with such a close family friend. What would they think of you?

You’d talk to Neteyam again when you felt like you were ready to fully face the situation. You just needed time to finish processing your emotions about it and him.

Unfortunately, it looks like you were going to be forced to process this a lot faster than you anticipated. Your parents are going on a 3-day long hunting trip and they’ve asked for you to stay with Jake and his family. This is ridiculous, you’re an adult so you should be able to be home alone. But your parents are very protective over you as their only child. And they only trust the Sully family with your safety and once they’ve put their foot down, there’s no getting them to change.

It’s going to be a lot harder to not talk to Neteyam when you’re going to be staying in his home. But maybe he won’t even want to talk about what happened either. Yea, maybe he’s feeling weird about it too and he’s just better at containing himself than you are. Either that, or it just simply wasn’t a big deal to him. But the thought of that being the case hurts your feelings just a tad. Why? Did you want it to mean something to him? Did it mean something to you?

You figure that maybe going to bathe at the nearby waterfall might help clear your head a bit so that you can hopefully get some sleep tonight.

You loved coming to the waterfall at night. Something about the roar of the rushing water against the quiet night air was like a melody to your ears. You remove your clothes before walking into the waist deep water. For it to be after eclipse, the water is still surprisingly warm. You sink down to your knees and let your head fall back and your hair sprawl out across the surface of the water. It’s so therapeutic. You’d stay here all night if you could, but you know if you take too long, somebody will come to look for you eventually. So, you start cleaning your body off.

You run your hands along the length of your arms and your torso and then you reach the spot between your thighs. It’s right where he was. You hold your hand there for a second just remembering. It was hot and heavy and slippery against your skin. When you look down, you can still visualize the way his tip poked out from between your legs over and over again. Your fingers travel up mere centimeters and find your already throbbing clit. Shit, you were sensitive just from the remembering. You start rubbing mindless circles on the little bundle of nerves and your breathing gets heavy.

Your eyes close and your mind tells you that instead of your own hand, it’s Neteyam. Instead of your fingers, it’s the tip of his dick brushing against your sensitive spot again and again. “Fuuuck…” you breathe out. He was so close to being actually inside of you. Oh, how you wanted to feel him inside of you.

You lean forward onto a rock to help steady yourself as your legs grow weak beneath you. Your fingertips poke and prod at your entrance teasing you. He’s teasing you until he finally sinks into you. A loud moan escapes your lips, “Neteyam…ah…”

You do your best to keep your voice down so as to not attract the attention of anyone who may be nearby. Thankfully, the sound of the waterfall is loud enough to mostly drown out your sounds.

Your fingers move in and out of your dripping pussy making such obscene sounds which just pushes you further into your fantasy. Neteyam pounding into you from behind whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Your core tightens and you can feel how close you are.

Memories of that night replay in your head fueling your oncoming orgasm. “Haah…I-I’m gonna cum!” You remember the feeling of his cum on your skin and his hands on your body, gripping you harder with his own release. It’s enough to get you to your peak and you cum with a loud groan that echoes in the area around you.

You continue leaning on the rock to keep yourself up while your mind slowly comes out of its fog. You finally feel like some of the weight has been lifted off your mind and you can think clearly again.

However, unbeknownst to you, there was someone watching you the entire time. Neteyam didn’t mean to find you in the forest. It was pure coincidence. But when his eyes caught sight of your bare, slender body in the water, he couldn’t tear himself away. And then you started touching yourself. He knew this was wrong and he shouldn’t keep watching such an intimate moment. But his fascination was too much for him to move. And then you said his name. His ears shoot up at the sound of his own name being on your lips. Before he knew it, he was palming his own dick while watching you. Fuck, how he wanted to be the one feeling you right now. He wanted to hear you scream his name, not just simply whimper it.

Knowing that you made yourself cum with the thought of him made his head spin. Caught in a dizzying space of pleasure. He was nearing his own high at the same time as you. His seed spilled out over his own hand making a big, sticky mess.

He runs off to find a different stream to clean himself off in and rushes back home before you get there.

When you get back to the tent, you see how Neteyam tenses up at the sight of you. That was odd. After being totally normal all week, he’s suddenly acting like the awkward one. You didn’t get it. But it’s probably best to not think too hard on it.

…

Sadly, sleep still doesn’t come easily for you tonight. Even though Lo’ak isn’t snoring tonight, your mind and body are still too restless. Jake had put up a temporary privacy curtain for you while you were staying with them, but you stare at it feeling uneasy. Neteyam is just on the other side of this curtain and you wanted so badly to see him. Truthfully, you hated being so isolated. Being by yourself like this made you umcomfortable. But you don’t want to be ungrateful since Jake had put this up just for you. You chew on your bottom lip and try to bear with it and turn your back to the curtain. Then, there’s a sound in the silence. It’s just barely there, but you catch it. Footsteps and it sounds like they’re coming towards you.

“You still awake?” Neteyam whispers to you peeking his head behind the curtain. He tried to keep his voice small enough to not wake you in case you were asleep.

You turn around to face him and shake your head.

“Is it okay if I come in?” he’s hesitant.

You just nod at him. Words don’t seem to be coming to you just yet.

He carefully and quietly makes his way over to your hammock and scoots his way in. His body is right against yours and the contact sears your skin.

“I know you don’t really like sleeping alone and I was worried you might be scared over here by yourself.” He says quietly.

He remembers. That was part of the reason you two would share a hammock so often when you were children. You would beg and plead until you were purple in the face because of your fear of being alone while you slept. And Neteyam never minded. He always played the role of protector and he liked making you feel safe.

“Thanks” you say to him and you’re grateful that he can’t see the flush of your cheeks in the dark.

Your face studies his silhouette in the dark with only the small rays of light from the stars seeping in through the spaces of the tent. Your eyes travel further down to his chest watching it rise and fall and to his abs that flexed slightly with each breath he took and then even lower and the flashbacks hit you again. It’s like you can literally feel how your clit wakes up in his presence.

You fidget in your spot trying to squeeze your thighs together for some relief.

“So, listen, um, about that night” he starts.

Oh no, do we really need to talk about this right now? But you have nowhere to hide.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable”

“No no, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I mean I was the one who offered, right?” your face feels like it’s on fire. “Honestly, I kind of…liked it…” the last words come out as more of a whisper than a confident statement. You’re cautious with your words since you’re still not sure where his head is in all of this.

Now, it was Neteyam’s turn to blush, thankful for the cover of the dark.

“The truth is…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since then.” He confesses.

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest. So he did think about it just like you.

“And I was thinking that I could help you out sometime too…You know, if-if you wanted to…” his words trail off with his growing uncertainty.

You’re not sure what came over you in that moment. What suddenly gave you the confidence boost to say what came next, “C-could you help me now?”

His breathing hitches in his chest. He turns onto his side to be face-to-face with you. Neither of you say a word, but your eyes are pleading with him. Begging him to touch you. He slowly lowers his hand to the waistband of your loincloth. He pauses, his eyes still silently asking you if this was okay. You give him a small smile letting him know to continue.

His fingers pass your loincloth and come into direct contact with your heat. One of his fingers strokes your aching clit and your breathing gets heavier. You chew on your lip trying to bite back the moan you desperately want to release.

Neteyam’s notices how his own loincloth is getting tighter at the feeling of his fingers gliding up and down your slit.

Small groans of pleasure fall from your lips at his touch. He felt even better than you had imagined. And the way he touched you, it was as if he knew how to please your body even better than you did. His fingers touch you with just the right amount of pressure and speed. You feel drunk at his touch.

“Neteyam…m-more… please” you whisper just inches from his face. He can feel his own restraint slipping at the sound of your pleas.

‘Eywa, please just let me have this.’ He thinks to himself before he captures your lips in a hungry, sloppy kiss. You waste no time moving your mouth in sync with his. Your tongues dance together in each other’s mouths. He loved the way you tasted. He just wanted to drink you in all night.

That tightening in your core is back. Your back arches trying to press yourself even more into Neteyam’s body. His lips muffle your moans, but he can feel how close you are. Just at the last second, he plunges a finger into your heat sending you over the edge. Your body jerks and your hands fly up to hold onto his shoulders while you struggle to keep yourself from being too loud.

Neteyam bites his lip to keep himself quiet feeling your walls pulse around his finger.

You come down from your high and rest your forehead against his chest.

He looks down at your face and when you look back at him, Neteyam knows he’s done for. Your big, round eyes staring up at him still full of longing. Without a word, or a second thought, you both hungrily crash your lips together while you both hurry to shimmy out of your loincloths. You couldn’t wait one more minute. You wanted him, needed him, and you needed him right now. You felt like you might lose your mind if he wasn’t inside of you immediately and he felt the same.

He turns your body around and you instinctively push your ass back against him making him let out a low groan. You use one of your hands to spread your still drenched pussy for him. He holds on to your hips while he swipes his tip up and down against your slick. He lines up with your opening and he slides in you painfully slow. You had never had anything bigger than your own fingers inside of you and the slow fill was indescribable. Holding back your moans was nearly impossible. He’s struggling too, trying to deep breathe his way through the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. He finally pushes all the way into you and you burn the shape of him into your body’s memory. You want to only know the shape and feeling of him forever.

He pulls his hips back, but you’re clenching on him so tight, it’s difficult to even pull out. It’s a wonder how he didn’t cum instantly. He moves slowly in and out of your warmth. Every thrust drags across your sweet spot.

His head falls forward resting in the crook of your neck. One hand slides up your body to massage your breast while the other reaches around to rub small circles on your clit.

“Of f-fuck…Neteyam…” it comes out as a whimper and it drives him crazy.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight. Taking me so well” he breathes into your ear. It’s exactly how you dreamt it.

His hips pick up their pace, “You have no idea how badly I’ve always wanted this.”

“M-me too…ah…” you’re losing your breath from panting.

“Yea? You touch yourself thinking about me? You want me to make that pussy feel good?” his voice is low but commanding in your head.

“Yes yes!” your voice comes out a bit louder than you meant to. Your hand cups itself over your mouth to muffle your sinful sounds.

Neteyam is loving every second of it. He loves watching you lose yourself to him.

“Oh, fuck yawne, I’m gonna fill you up so good” he rubs his face into your neck mingling his scent with yours.

“Please Neteyam…” even whispering, your voice is still strained.

He wants nothing more than to just pound into you mindlessly, but he knows that would make too much noise right now and he uses the last shred of his power to control his thrusts. But he can still feel your approaching orgasm. Your walls tighten even more around him, he wasn’t even sure that was possible.

“G-gonna cum…I’m gonna cum again Neteyam” your eyes blur unable to focus under the influence of your impending release.

“Do it, cum with me.” His grip on your body grows as he chases his own high.

The knot in your core snaps with ground-shaking force and you definitely would have screamed had it not been for your hand over your mouth. While you’re still at the peak of your release, Neteyam shoots thick, hot ropes of his seed deep into you. You felt so full that you thought you might burst. It intensifies your own orgasm tenfold.

You both stay there unable to move an inch from the exhaustion. Neteyam manages to pull himself together enough to pull out of you and his cum slowly drips out of you too. He rolls onto his back and watches the ceiling still catching his breath.

“Hey, Neteyam?” you mumble.

“Hm?”

“Would you stay with me? At least until I fall asleep?” you still didn’t want to be alone.

He smiles gently and turns over to pull you against him, “Of course” he places a small peck against the shell of your ear.

His arms are like walls around you shielding you from any feeling of fear or unease. He’s just so inviting. You fall asleep within minutes. Neteyam isn’t far behind you, falling asleep just moments later.

…

In the morning, the gentle sound of someone rustling around out of bed wakes you. You don’t open your eyes yet though. You just want to stay how you are for a little longer. You can hear Lo’ak’s voice on the other side of your privacy curtain, “Hey, have you seen Neteyam? He’s not in his hammock.”

At the same time, he’s pulling your curtain back to come talk to you, “oh shit!”, he pulls the curtain closed and jumps back on the outside.

Your eyes shoot open and your body jumps awake. The sudden movement and loss of warmth wakes Neteyam too.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…interrupt.” Lo’ak says from the other side of the curtain. Your head falls into your hands in humiliation. “You guys should probably get yourselves together before mom and dad wake up.” You can hear the amusement in his voice.

Eywa, out of all people, did it have to be Lo’ak? You both knew you weren’t going to be hearing the end of this any time soon.

You look over at Neteyam and he shoots you an amused smirk of his own. You can’t help the small giggle that you let out. He props himself up to kiss you.

“How about next time we go somewhere actually private?” he jokes.

“Definitely.” You say smiling back at him.

‘Next time.’

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