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cleewii · 1 year

Text

rating: R (18+ content)

cw(s): fem!afab!reader, sub!bakugo, horribly edited

thinking about punishing KATSUKI by making him fuck a toy when all he really wants is to fuck you.

“s’not the same….” he’d groan. His jaw clenched tight as he grits his teeth, willing away the sniffles and whimpers that threaten to slip past his lips.

The blatant disappointment stings in his chest.

“maybe if you’d been good you’d have gotten the real thing.”

he may be complaining, about how it feels different, about how it’s not you, but he greedily allows himself to fuck deeper into the toy.

“f…fuh—fuck you!” he gasps into your shoulder, the heat of his breaths billowing across your exposed skin.

“nuh uh, no whinin’. don’t have anyone to blame but yourself, honey.”

“i hate you…hate you so—hah!”

Your hands squeeze tight around the silicone toy; the tip of his cock going through different shades of pink, then red, desperately angry, starved of real attention, begging for something more. Pearls of white bead up and meld with the copious amounts of lube and pre already gumming up the insides of the toy; that ‘schlick…schlick’—ing rhythm filling up his head. He’s already starting to feel foggy; you’ve been denying him for hours, teasing and picking away at his resolve, and it seems you have no intention of giving him what he wants.

each time he fucks into the toy the tip of his cock just about kisses your naval. your smooth skin beneath the silicone tube makes his head go a little fuzzy.

oh, how he’d be dying to touch you, to feel you, but you wouldn’t let him, you’re smiling so mean as you deny him, and he just—

‘can’t take it. I can’t take it. I cant take it. I can’t take it—!’

“Fuck!” He gasps. “c—c’mon! don’t…fuck…don’t do this to me…” he’s already choking over his words, taking up big heaving breaths of air like his lungs are starved of it.

“you already know what I wanna hear.”

“s’not fair….you’re bein’ fuck—fuckin’ mean!”

“i’m not asking for much katsuki, really. just wanna hear you say it and i’ll start being nice. isn’t that what you want?”

“but i didn’t do—!“

“don’t lie, baby.” you’d cup his cheek, leaning up to whisper into his ear, “you know exactly what you did.”

“fuck!” he groans, and he realizes he really can’t escape from this. “m’sorry okay!”

you slowly drag the toy off of his dick, relishing in the way he squirms when the air touches the bare skin. The bare weight of him would lay across the length of your pelvis, hot, sticky, and full of need. you could feel his aching on top of your clit, could feel the heat of him envelop your skin with the way he’s draped across you, and that look in his eye, just seeing your pussy beneath him is driving him crazy.

“see, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

he shakes his head no, swallowing down his own voice to stare at your glistening cunt, thoughts drifting to the slick feel of it around him once you finally give him what he wants

“please,” he breathes. “please.”

“one more time for me, honey.”

“i’m sorry….”

“for?”

“for bein’ a…a fucking’ brat…for n—not bein’…bein’ good….” the spit starts to gather up in his mouth, brain going foggy. just the thought of being able to feel your cunt has him damn near drooling, and when you look at him like that, like he’s perfect, like he’s everything you want, it makes his cock ache with a need so violent he’d do anything to make it better. “please, baby. can i….?”

“of course you can.” you smile. a sweet and soft, almost cruel, smile.

he moans in response and buckles in worship.

“t—thank you….thank you…thank you!”

#bakugou x reader #sub bakugou #bakugo katuski x reader #sub katsuki #clee.r18 #clee’s.writing #dom reader #clee’s.drabbles

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cleewii · 1 year

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WE’VE GROWN TIRED

pairing: levi ackerman x fem!afabreader

rating: m for mature

warning (s): 18+ content, grief, death, angst, mentions of gore, unhealthy coping mechanisms, sub levi, dom reader, badly edited, hurt/comfort???

word count: 2.5K

note: i’m prolly gonna regret posting this as it is right now since i had bigger ideas for it, but it’s been sitting in my notes app for almost a year and i figure it’s decent enough as is. levi ,the loml, one day i’ll pump out an actual full length fic for you instead of this lil blurb of emotionally driven p*rn 💕

I do not permit the reposting/reuploading of my work on any platform. i do not allow the use of my work for other forms of entertainment. not even with credit

days had been spent accompanied by sleepless nights where the recollection of rain slicked fields filled his head. crimson poured across blades of grass like a grizzly wash of watercolor paint, dribbling down into the earth, which he could still taste on tounge. gritty and suffocating. He always wakes from these dreams as though he’d been pulled out of water, drinking in air like he’s been starved of it.

he has no time to dwell on the past. the sun creeps into the morning, and soon enough he’s pulling on his uniform and tightening belts into their buckles. new assignments drone on in the background of his mind, and he works like he’s on autopilot. even when the muscles in his arms and legs begin to ache, and his bones scream within the confines of his body, he does not stop, for at least that can distract him from the emptiness of the seats beside him in the mess halls, and the harrowing silence that fills the dusk.

he’s come outside to the fields to check on the stables when he’s met with a curious sight.

a stone, large and erroded, has been placed a few feet away from the grouped cavalry. blossoms decorate the space in front of it, filling the grass with shades of yellow, red, and purple, and what’s most curious of all is the girl that sits in front of it. between her fingers she twirls the thin stem of a white flower—her mind must be heavily preoccupied because she hasn’t noticed that the fibers holding the stem together have gone bruisy—the petals beginning to wilt in her hold.

she’s muttering to herself, words he can’t quite catch and doesn’t care enough to try, but it’s then that he realizes she looks familiar. that familiarity brings a memory he wishes he could wipe away from the world.

you, the girl who had cradled isabels remains, tears melding with the rain pouring down unto the gore. you’d wrapped her up with the cloak off your back, and carried her all the way back to base. the sight had sickened him in the moment, just knowing that lifeless eyes and a carcass lay rotting away beneath that bone white insignia brought acid to his tounge, but he’d said nothing, even if he wanted to yell and scream, because what on earth could a stranger want with the remains of his family? what could you possibly hope to achieve by lugging grief with you like a medal? he swallowed down the rage, and looked ahead. he never saw you again after that day, but here you are now.

he’s come close enough now to slightly make out your words, and it’s when her name slips from your tounge that you have his full attention.

“wish you could see it, isabel. m’sure you would’ve loved it….”

“what could you possibly know about what she’d love?”

the words come out of his mouth before he realizes it.

they’re bitter, angry, a sort of rage you’d spot in a wounded animal, and he looks at you as though he could pour all of his pain into you and your borrowed grief and be done with it all.

“I…” The words don’t seem to make their way past your lips. you’re stuck staring between the cold sharpness of his eyes and the empty space beside his head, flickering back and fourth like you could somehow find the words written in the air.

What you want to say is that you’re sorry.

Sorry for everything he must be feeling, sorry for the loss that life has dealt him, sorry that you had to remind him of it all. But then you realized he may be sick of the sorry’s, and then you think you want to tell him that she loved him, and you had understood that completely, even though you’d only been apart of her life for a small, precious fragment of time.

You want to tell him all of these things, even if it might make him hate you, even if it makes you hate yourself, and yet, you sit in silence. Mouth pressed thinly, eyes glossy, as though choking on your own shame.

He stomps away before the courage to respond finds you, the words dying on your tounge, and you’re left to mourn alone.

***

It’s funny, now that he thinks about. How cold and cruel your beginning was. So different, a drastic change from the exchanges the two of you would find yourselves in now.

over time he’d see more and more of you. No longer a ghost painted in grief, or a little girl crying for her friend in the mud. You’ve grown, matured into a soldier, evident by the scars in your skin, the hardened look in your eyes, and the tears that no longer come.

As much as he fought against it, he found himself drawn to you. Maybe it’s because you knew about a small part of himself, and loved her enough to honor her when he couldn’t. Maybe it’s because you fought to wedge yourself into his life, forcing him to know you, down to the atoms of your being, the endless secession of thoughts in your mind—so far and so long he had to wander the planes of your existence. Somewhere along that journey, he found himself pushing forward without your hand to guide him. He began to wonder, and soon enough he began to long, and finally, when the tension grew so thick you could cut through it with a blade, you confronted him with secrets he’d been harboring, and returned them with your own.

It’s safe to say you’ve become much more than the girl at the grave, wearing your insignia of bones.

hushed and hurried, you’re frantic in stealing away his every breath. swallowing down his frustration and yearning to take all of him for yourself, no longer reserved and eager to take up as little space in his life as possible. now, you take from him what you will and want, however much of him you can in the few minutes time allows you.

try as you might, time is an unmerciful lord.

When flowers bloom, beautiful and bright, filling the world with a spectrum of color after such bitter cold, it is hope for the future. Hope that no violent winter will fall upon the life that has sprouted, but this hope is short lived, and eventually, the clouds thicken, the world sinks into gray, and we are forced to birth anew. time holds the earth in its monstrous hands, and the joy the two of you find is picked at, threatened to be wrenched away once things have finally begun to brighten.

***

“i think there’s going to be a storm.” You glare at the darkening sky, fingers digging at the thin cotton of your shirt.

“that so?” Levi keeps his eyes on the stack of paperwork before him, the warm glow of the candle at his desk illuminating the parchment. the weather had been calm only moments ago, just before the two of your retired into his office. the pot of tea at his side is still warm.

“a bad one,” you turn. your eyes linger on his form and the shadows waltzing on the wall behind him.

his looks up. his lips pressing into a fine line.

***

It’s a shame that the light-hearted days are gone.

back then, it wasn’t all about saving the world. back then, losing didn’t mean the fall of humanity. nothing changes the weight of loss, grief continues to sit within levi’s heart like a cancer, and no matter the stakes, it’s a tumor that will never disappear, but there was a vision within it. the desperation for answers to impossible questions, there was a rhythm to it all. It made sense, and as much as he hated to admit it, the predictability was something he appreciated.

But that’s gone now.

the world has twisted itself into an unforeseeable monster, and he rides its back hoping it won’t shake him off and leave him in the dust. the day he lost his entire team was the first sign that something was coming—that the good old days were gone. long gone.

how he wishes it were the good old days again.

***

the first time you kill another person, he’s right there beside you.

he can tell that you’re scared, a fear he’s been familiar with for years, and one he could only hope, try, and then fail to shield you from. he’d never been the type to try and evade weakness, not for himself or anybody else, but for you, he’d pray to whatever god was out there that you’d never know that type of pain. even if pain made you stronger, even if it was what made you the person you were now.

***

shakey hands grasp at the plackets of his shirt, fumbling with buttons and boutonnières, almost tearing the fabric in the process.

“hey,” he takes your hand in his, pulling them away despite the way you huff. “you need to calm down.”

your shoulders rise and fall clumsily with the weight of your breaths. you’d been trying so hard to stomach down the guilt—forcing a mask of cold determined stoicism in the hopes of putting your subordinates at ease. turns out, you could handle stone hearted objectivity as well as directing your blades towards another human being.

the grip he has on your hands is so gentle you could crumble. i don’t deserve it, comes the thought, and as hard as you try to wipe it away, that voice comes to you as violently as it had long ago. your unable to meet his eyes, scared he’d see the way you’re slipping, and you know all that awaits you is the worry you wish he didn’t have to deal with.

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, letting the fabric of his shirt fall from your hands. “i….im just—“

“scared. i know.”

“this is so hard, levi. i cant….” you swallow. “i dont want to keep watching it happen.” he knows what you mean without you having to explain it. he knows that weight on your shoulders, the pit in your stomach, the ache in your bones. he knows it because he’s felt it time and time again.

“i’m so tired,” your head falls against his shoulder. his hand reaches to cup the back of your head, silent as you sniffle against him.

“i know…”

***

you’re still upset; it’s present in the way you offer no words, just the sound of breathing and soft moans between the two of you.

your skin is hot against his, lips selfish with the need to kiss him again and again. You take what you want and he lets you—gives it all to you.

the undertones of frustration and anger linger in the air, neither directed at either party but still present nonetheless. it was bound to happen, with how shitty the past few days have been. the everyday had managed to leech itself into a moment where it shouldn’t have been allowed to, and the thought makes Levi sick.

not here, not now, and never with you.

“slow down….” he groans when your hips grow to a rather brutal pace.

“too much for you?“ there’s a halfheartedness to your voice. your lips brush against his ear and he can’t help but groan with it. disregarding the bite to your words, you do listen to him and slow to a steady grind, quelling the burn in your muscles while you sigh with the warmth he brings.

his hands drag from your thigh up to the flesh of your hips, thumbs digging into the divit where your skin creases with soft affection. savoring the moment, he thinks. savoring time, and nights of peace, and you. he drinks in your expressions, the curves and hard lines of your body, the softness of your skin beneath his touch, and the rise and fall of your chest that follows with every breath. his nose traces your throat, shivering as your hand follows up the back of his head and lays pressed against his cheek. “just want to make this last. don’t be a brat.” he murmurs, letting his lips feather across the skin of your jugular. “take it slow with me…”

you hum in response, and feel the aggression and frustration melt out of you. yes, there wasn’t room for any of that. never when it was just the two of you. the rest of the world, and the realities beyond your closed bedroom door falls upon deaf ears as the two of you meld into bliss.

for the first time in so long, you can feel the ache leave, and you invite him to take its place for however long he’ll allow.

if he had any say it in, he’d do it for the rest of your lives.

Your name passes through his lips as a breathless whisper, his fingers digging deeper into your skin.

“Hold on just a sec, honey.” you press kisses to the sides of his face. “M’almost there, too”

He buries himself into your neck, swallowing down a hiss when you speed up just a bit.

Fuck. You were gonna be the death of him.

“Oh, Levi,” Your fingers pull at his hair, “Fuck, you’re so good to me.”

His eyes go a bit glossy; a pretty sheen washing over his steel eyes as he lets you overcome his each and every sense. You. You. You. In every crevice of his mind he finds you, and when he pulls himself back into your arms the words come tumbling out.

“Love you…”

You trace a soft touch up the nape of his neck, letting your fingers find the soft fuzz of his undercut with a grin. “What was that?”

“I love you.” His voice breaks off a bit, feathering into a breathy groan.

“I love you too,” You kiss just below his ear, then press another to his throat, and then finally catch his lips with your own. “so much.”

maybe that’s what does it; the driving force behind the snapped knot, the crescendo in the pit of his stomach, so sharp and so hard, soothing over his bones with warm sweet nothings. He throws his head back with a broken moan as it washes over him, painting the feeling of your throbbing cunt into memory as he fills you up, so sweet and tight.

a small voice in his head tells him that was a bad idea, that he should’ve been more careful, but the weight of you in his arms, your soft mouth pressing rosette kisses to his skin forces that voice away.

it takes a minute before he finds his own. “feel better?”

“yeah,” you breathe, “much better.”

“good.”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #clee’s.writing #attack on titan fic #sub!levi #sub!levi ackerman #dom!reader #clee.r18

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cleewii · 1 year

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THIS IS LOVE

pairing: denji x gn!reader

rating: 16+

warning(s): violence, gore, loss and grief, reader is a morally questionable, pre-established relationship

word count: 1.4K

note: i wouldn’t consider this a completed work considering i just took a draft i had and polished it enough to be cohesive. it still needs some more work (an actual plot cough cough) but whatever. if enough people dig it i might expand on it more. i’ve just got this feeling that denji is rlly weird about crying and that’s where this came from.

I do not permit the reposting/reuploading of my work on any platform. i do not allow the use of my work for other forms of entertainment. not even with credit

if he could hold you to his heart, you’d hear the steady rhythm of life beating from within. two souls bound together in the form of this raggedy, beaten down, dirty mess of a man, covered in layers of dust, and grime, and blood. Yet, when your eyes fall upon him even if he stands a tattered wreck, all he’d see is adoration—a soft and sweet glimmer of something he’ll protect until his last dying breath.

he feels that love you have for him, with its honey golden glow, effervescent as it lays upon his skin in the form of chast kisses and a warm embrace, and he feels like he could die the happiest man in the world. so long as you’ll be there to smile so sweetly. just for him, only for him.

he’d rip apart the world in return, bury his hands deep within the sodden carcasses he’d lay at his own feet to grip at something feral and beating, just for you. all for you. always for you.

because you make him feel like he’s living, like you want him for more then what lives behind his rib cage, tasting his dreams and letting the sweetness of it all fill it until it was satisfied.

“pochita,” he’d told you, “his name s’pochita”

“yeah? how’d you meet him?”

he’d recounted everything he could remember to you that night. that sickly feeling of starvation, the dull throbbing of his head. stories followed by tragedies, even when you felt like you could cry, you let him finish. you listened.

“she killed ‘em. all’ve ‘em…i couldnt….i didnt save ‘em,” his chin falls utop his knees, arms hugging his legs to his body as he stares at the ground solemnly. the glimmer of an anguished nostalgia simmering in his eyes; he seems transfixed on burning his pain into the couch cushion underneath him. from the way he spoke about them, his family, you knew they’d meant the world to him. Maybe even more than that.

you say nothing about the tears that slip down his cheeks. nor the way his nose goes red, and his cheeks blot with watercolor grief.

you only pull him closer, letting him lean against you as he soaks your shirt in muffled sobs.

he falls asleep like that, and you follow soon after. His skin sticky with dried tears, nose and eyes rubbed raw.

he’s snoring before he can process whatever childish embarrassment he might feel about having been so vulnerable. he swallows down the weakness before giving himself the chance to chew on it. there was a realization that had replaced it—in fact—before his eye lids grew so heavy that he had to give into his body’s yearning for sleep.

He wondered, something he rarely allows himself to do, that maybe you matter to him as much as they did. it’s a thought that stays in the back of his mind throughout the rest of the night, in his dreams where the smell of you wandered like a ghost, his body curled up, pressed right against yours.

he would cry for you.

he’d known that since the first time he’d seen you covered in bruises and looking worse for wear.

you were alive, and he still cried.

it had shaken him to his core.

he didn’t notice until you pointed it out, the fat tears that trailed down his cheeks at the sight of you.

he didn’t know why, he’d felt so stupid after the fact, but that didn’t change the way he practically bawled like a baby when you’d returned home late that night, blood seeping into your shirt from the cuts that littered your skin.

you’d been attacked by a devil, you explained, and later that night, when you were safe in bed and sleeping soundly under the covers, he’d gone searching for the thing that’d hurt you.

he didn’t come back until he found it, and left it a writhing pile of stinking flesh.

you didn’t question why he came back to you bloody, or ask about the self satisfied grin he’d presented to you after the fact. you just smiled, so sweet and soft, and kissed the corner of his lips like it was the normal thing to do.

you supposed it was.

every since you’d met him, the line between moral and immoral had faded. what once made your skin crawl and stomach ache, felt like simple showers of rain during a sunny day. never completely normal—always a little too intense to handle—and not always completely welcomed, but a type of irregularity that you wouldn’t lose any sleep over.

that’s why you didn’t think too much about the metallic taste in your mouth afterwards.

that dopey smile on his face was enough for you, especially when he realized you hadn’t changed the bandaids he’d littered over your skin. mismatched, placed everywhere, some folded over themselves in his struggle to remove them from the packaging, and others overlapping each other in his haste to to dress the cuts that marred your skin.

his hands had shaken horribly, eyes red and puffy from crying, finally calming down once he’d bandaged every wound.

it should have scared him, the way he’s broken down so easily because of you. it should have swallowed him whole, filled his lungs with a smokey kind of fear that he’d suffocate in.

if death wasn’t an option, then surely that was the next best thing.

having to watch everyone else die before him.

having to watch you die.

the thought was enough to make him gag, it’s inevitability clung to his throat like a disease.

he’d held you tight, and kissed every inch of skin you’d allowed him to access that night, suddenly strengthened in the resolve he’d created moments before.

“ill protect you. won’t let anythin’ hurt you again. not ever.”

“yeah?” you giggled. maybe you shouldn’t have. there was nothing lighthearted about his declaration. it was solid, unwavering, etched into his entire being and nothing would change it.

“yeah.” he looks down, a determined furrow in his brow, “i promise.”

you stared at him, for a moment, mulling over his words, tasting them on your tounge.

then, your face had melted into a smile, and you kissed him right on the lips.

he couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

“i love you, denji…” you murmured into his hair, soft blond strands tickling your cheek as you slowly drifted, your exhaustion finally catching up to you.

he had only been dozing off, fading in and out of sleep, but the moment those words left for mouth he could feel his body tremble.

you loved him.

he hoped, a selfish kind of hope, that you loved him as much as he did you.

it played in his head, like a broken record. repeating itself, over and over again, until he too faded into sleep.

do you love me like i love you…?

do you need me like i need you….

“ur a dream, ya know that?” he says to you one day, head lying comfortable in your lap as the two of you lounge about a chilly winter day. this was months later, summer having faded as sleet and snow covered the once lively earth.

“half the time i cant believe ur real…” he mumbles that last part, looking away from your serene gaze as if he’d melt at the sight of your eyes, eyes that were always so warm and golden.

red dusts the tips of his ears, painting over the skin of his shoulders and cheeks, you can’t help the giggle that leaves you at the sight of him all flustered and quiet.

“well m’right here aren’t i?” you smile. your fingertips brush over the ends of his blond hair.

“yeah.”

he feels warm at the thought.

still here.

he doesn’t regret crying for you.

no, in fact, he thinks if he could he’d cry every day for you. happy tears, sad tears, so long as you could hold him close and tell him it was alright. that you’d never leave him the way they did, that you’d be okay.

he doesn’t regret crying for you, because although it seemed like whenever he cried it was because he’d lost something, something precious that meant more to him then he’d care to admit, you’d managed to prove him wrong.

for once, his tears didn’t mark the end of something—of someone.

for once, he cried, and you were still here

#denji x reader #csm denji #denji fluff #chainsaw man #clee’s.writing

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cleewii · 1 year

Text

TEASE

pairing: gyutaro x fem! reader

rating: m for mature

content warning(s): suggestive content. clothes get taken off. nothing actually r18+ worthy. unfinished work. mentions of violence—people getting eaten. reader's not all there upstairs.

note: hi. i’m back. i was digging through my notes app and found a bunch of unfinished works so i figured i’d post them since i actually really like how they turned out even if they’re just rough drafts. expect a surplus of unfinished works of mine throughout the next couple of weeks, i’ve got a lot to go through. i’m trynna heal my relationship with posting my work online, and this is the first step.

i do not permit the reposting/uploading of my work on any platform. not even with credit.

he’s practically keening at the soft dig of your fingers on his hip bones, dipping into the curves and ridges of his body as though he weren’t some grotesque thing, staring up at him as though he could possibly deserve that awe struck look in your eyes.

he groans, the sound rumbling from his throat in a broken wave before he dives down and lets himself indulge in the sweet smell of your skin.

he won’t let you perch yourself on his lap, or hug him too tightly, or even look at him for too long, but it’s not because the thought of you seeing him makes him feel ill. no of course not. and it’s definitely not because he’d rather rip his own skin off and eat it then let you decide he is a disgusting monster unworthy of your time.

hes grown possessive, but isn’t that a given? aren’t we all possessive of our prizes, our jewels, our gold, and we hang them so daintly across ourselves like medals to proclaim something of worth to the world.

you are a shining treasure in his eyes—a name in the impossibly short list of people who matter to him—and he’d rather die then let you hate him.

so no, you’re not allowed to do this, touching him so softly, drinking him in like hes worth it, and no your not allowed to press those sweet kisses to his skin, or guide his hands to your hips and thighs, let him feel you up. he really should stop you, his bones are aching with the need to push your hands away, snarl and growl like the bruttish thing he is, because the worst thing, the absolute worst thing he could do is ruin you.

if he slips up, and let’s you get too close, he’ll do it, he just knows it.

you are flawless; he shouldn’t have the right to touch you, and yet the selfish part of him wants to take you, all you, leave as many marks as he can, stains and mares, just to prove that this was real. You were real, and you were here choosing to be with him, letting him lean over you and eat you up.

he’s seen you with other men. quietly hidden in the shadows, peering in through the walls all just to get a glimpse of you. the jealousy swells each time, threatening to take over whenever a hand so much as grazes across your skin. he wants to devour you, claim you, mind body and soul, and wear you like a battlescar he hopes never fades, but his hands can only twitch on either side of your head.

“Gyu…” You sigh, “you can touch me you know. it’s okay.”

he huffs, head snapping away, refusing to look at you any longer then he already has.

“don’t be stupid.” garbled and warp, his voice is like a broken radio, flawed. he wants to swallow the words and die with them choking him.

“this is torture,” you whine, tracing your hands up his chest, “all you do is look at me, but you won’t even touch me? ur a real tease ya know….”

it’s that pouty tilt in your voice that forces him to look again, and he’s met with the pretty sight of your eyes, glossy with tears he knows only mean trouble.

“don’t be a brat.” he glares, fingers digging into the fabric of the comforter beneath the two of you.

“i didn’t even drag you here or anything. you’re the one that got all weird and quiet, ‘n if you really wanted me gone that bad you wouldn’t have kept going out of your way to find me. don’t lie gyu, you want me as bad as i want you.”

i want you….

he shakes it away. absolutely not. he couldn’t—not ever!

“please,” you whisper, leaning up until your lips brush against the shell of his ear, “please gyutaro….”

“you’re a real sicko, ya know…” he hisses, as though your voice scalds him down to bare flesh. his fingers move to dig into the skin of his neck. scratching and scratching away as though he can rip out the sinful thoughts he’s been having ever since youd perched yourself here. They go against every instinct he’s ingrained into himself. every painful lesson beaten into his body.

“do you get some freaky kick outta me or something? you lookin’ down on me? i could kill you right now ya know, could slit your throat and eat you like m’supposed to.”

“then do it.” your gaze is unchanging in its chagrin. “if you want to so bad—if not eating me is agony—then go ahead n’do it. i dare you.” you squirm a bit under his body. “here, i’ll even make it easier.”

your fingers go to undo the strings of your yukata; the soft fabric going slack as you continue down the row that stretches along your middle. the sleeves fall past your shoulders, hanging down dangerously low, inches away from revealing the swell of your chest.

he watches with a dry mouth as you move to pull the rest of your garment off, and it’s the sliver of skin above your naval that sets something off.

your wrist gets caught between his hands, and you look up to meet his desperate eyes.

“what the hell do you think your doing?!” he practically shouts into your face.

“you said you wanted to eat me right? well i don’t recall meals ever being dressed up before they’re served, so i’m doing you a favor and getting rid of the stuff in your way.”

“well stop!”

“okay,” you roll your eyes, frustration leaking into your voice as impatience replaces your self control. “then if it isn’t the clothes, tell me why you won’t eat me? that’s what your kind do isn’t it? eat human beings. hunt them down, torture ‘n kill them. so tell me, gyutaro. why won’t you kill me?”

he doesn’t reply. practically refuses to.

“i know you’re not above murder. just admit that you like me. admit it n’ill leave you alone, i swear.”

annoying. like a fly, buzz buzz buzzing around him like his attention would somehow quell you.

Insolent.

Cocky.

It pissed him off to no end, the lack of fear, your inability to comprehend just how deadly he was.

you sat yourself down next to him like he was nothing more then a boy you knew. as if he couldn’t tear you apart, rip flesh from bone like it was second nature, as simple as it was to breathe.

If only you would make this easier. if only you didn’t tease.

#gyutaro x reader #gyuutaro x reader #demon slayer #kny fanfic #clee’s.writing #clee.r18

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cleewii · 3 years

Text

sweet dreams.

pairing: xiao x fem!reader

rating: e for everyone

prompt(s): first kiss

I do NOT permit the reposting/uploading of my work. or the usage of my writing in other works of entertainment. not even with credit.

silent nights are when he feels the most at ease, the most relaxed, the most…at peace

the feeling only increases tenfold as your soft, steady breathing flutters from next to him, your body going rigid before relaxing

it’s a typical evening for the two of you. you, an inch away from dreamland, and him laying next to you, utterly unsure of what to do or say, yet content with the comforting silence that enveloped the two of you

he can’t sleep, or…-doesn’t need to? You don’t really know the requirements for an adeptus’ nightly routines, but you know that tonight it seems his mind has decided to be louder than usual

you can practically hear his thoughts, troubled and peculiar, although it seems that none of it has to do with karmic bonds or the endless torment of screams he finds himself deafened by.

no, it seems that it’s simply a busy night for him, and you find that you can’t sleep anymore.

“Xiao?”

He hums in response, looking away from the window through which a sliver of light shines.

You sit up, back hitting the wall before turning to face him. You note that he looks particularly beautiful under the moonlight; the hard lines and curves of his face are only illuminated by the wonderfully soft light of night.

His ears perk up at the sound of your soft sigh, eyeing you up and down for any signs of discomfort. There’s a gentleness in his gaze, and suddenly you crave his attention.

You pull the blankets away from your body, instead in need of a different kind of warmth.

“You can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, offering a soft smile before leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder comfortably, chest pressed against his back.

Had it not been for the many months spent between the two of you, you wouldn’t have dared attempted to be so physically comfortable with him. Any attempt would have been meant with a harsh glare and a simple: “What are you doing?”

The idea of hearing his cold voice directed at you made you shiver, and you were glad that you had reached a certain point of trust with him. Especially since he felt so nice against you.

You can feel the muscles of his back, the expanding of his chest with every slow breath he took.

He tenses softly under your touch, but relaxes after a moment, slumping beneath your body as he brings his attention away from the moon outside.

It would always be like that, no matter how many times it happened he would always be a bit hesitant to accept your touch. There were too many things he risked in letting you get too close, but you’ve managed to prove that they were things he didn’t need to worry about.

You were strong, and he knew that. You were capable, and he could never doubt that. His anxieties could stay as tiny little words in the back of his mind, small things he would consider for a moment and then throw away.

His fingers brush your hand softly, fingertips just feathering over the surface of your skin before he speaks.

“Aren’t you tired?”

You shake your head again, pressing your lips to his shoulder.

That’s a lie and he knows it, because he can sense the fatigue in your body, can practically feel the need to sleep. You’ve been particularly exhausted lately, perhaps from the stress of everyday life, and he knows you need the rest.

Your eyes reach up to his face, taking note of every single dip and rise of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, and the sharp line of his jaw. His golden eyes sparkle with flecks of amber and copper, swirling with emotions that you couldn’t quite place.

God, he was so beautiful, so unlike anyone you had ever met.

Without your permission, your eyes trail down to his lip, the slight rosy hue that painted them, the plumpness that you wondered would feel soft against your own. You hadn’t attempted that yet. Maybe…

He grabs your hand gently between his own.

“Go to sleep, it’s late.”

You groan, pressing yourself tighter against his back, “Don’t wanna.”

“Don’t be stubborn. You’re going to be tired in the morning,” He glares softly, maneuvering his body to face you properly.

You grumble in response, wrapping your arms around his lean waist as if to hold him in place. He was warm, and you would hate to lose him against you.

It’s unordinary for him to tolerate your embrace for so long, and you can only hope to savor the feeling.

“Mmm…don’t care. I can sleep later.”

He rolls his eyes, and before you can guess his next move your head meets your pillow, and your body is pushed onto your back. A gasp escaped your lips and you glare at his stoic face.

“Hey!” You whined, “That’s not fair!”

You don’t even notice that he’s managed to wedge himself between your legs, his face looming over yours as you struggle against his grip, lips set into a pout.

“Sleep,” He orders, although his tone is soft. You catch yourself eyeing his lips again, before quickly diverting your eyes back to his own.

“No. Not tired. Plus I don’t wanna.” Your body betrays you after those words leave your mouth, as a yawn follows quickly after.

He clicks his tongue.

Humans, always so stubborn…

He eyes your determined face, catching the flicker in your gaze when an idea fills his head.

“You have things to do tomorrow, you can’t afford to be sleep deprived.”

“I already told you i’m not tired,” you huff, turning your head away, “Not tired at all.”

He sighs before leaning down closer. You could lie to anyone, but you couldn’t fool him. Especially not when your practically yawning every two seconds.

His hand cups your cheek, the warmth spreading across his palms, and he mutters softly.

“Stubborn girl…”

And then his lips are on yours.

You gasp, mind suddenly going blank at the feeling of him on you. Was this…was this really happening? He pulls away before you can reciprocate, before you can properly react, and you can sense the smugness in his face.

“You’re not very subtle,” he jests.

Your face falls warm, suddenly flushed with embarrassment as you recall the cheeky glances you had taken of his lips. Nothing could get past Xiao, you suppose.

He could almost laugh at the starstruck, embarrassed look on your face—wide eyes, and all—before moving back to his side of the bed, ignoring your frustrated whine.

“That was so unfair!”

He only shakes his head in response, grabbing another pillow from the bed before plopping it back down onto your face.

“Sleep. It’s late.”

You’re stubborn resolute melts away underneath the pillow, suddenly feeling warm…and fuzzy.

“You’re a bully…” You whisper, smiling softly at the yaksha, and snuggle deeper into the pillows and blankets, “G’night….”

He watches you as you settle into the bed, amused by the disappearance of your stubborn facade, and then turns his attention back to the open window, a gentle breeze flowing into the room.

A tingly feeling covers his lips and suddenly his thoughts are on an entirely new—entirely foreign—topic.

There’s only one thing on his mind after you’ve fallen asleep, your soft steady breathing lulling him back into relaxation.

You taste like a sweet dream.

#god i’m tired and i’m stressed i just wanna hold the angry short man #i’ll prolly edit this later #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #xiao #genshin xiao #genshin x reader #adeptus xiao #clee’s.writing

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