#emi.freshtea

[bontenten]

METAMORPHOSES 03 || An Heir

Pairings: Zenin Naoya x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader (unrequited) WC: 3.9k Series Genre/Warnings: smut, noncon/dubcon, emotional/physical abuse, yandere, Naoya, misogyny, arranged marriage, pregnancy, miscarriage, birth, lactation, manga spoilers, more dead doves

A/N: oh i veryy much enjoyed writing this chapter, ty for patience since last updates! 

Series Masterlist

“My lady, your condition can be considered stable now. Since this is your first pregnancy, there are still many things your body is not used to. The young master’s energy is also dense, causing your body to become frail. It’s paramount that you meditate everyday to keep your energies in balance for the developing child. I will write a prescription for a tonic which you should take three times daily. Rest and keep a stress-free, open mind until your delivery date.” 

The Zenin physician placed his tools back into his chest. He flipped open his notebook and began to scribble a list of ingredients. The tense atmosphere in the room settled down. 

“You will be the one responsible for bringing the medicine. Should anything happen, you will answer with your life in the disciplinary pit.” Naoya threatened. 

“Y-Yes, Young Master Naoya, of course. I will do everything in my power to take care of the lady.” 

You squeezed Naoya’s hand and tried to comfort the doctor currently scared out of his wits. “Thank you, Doctor. You may go now, I’m a bit tired.”

The earlier spasms of pain and vertigo had everyone in a panic. It came so suddenly, you were unprepared and before you knew it, you woke to Naoya’s immense killing intent burying the room.

To say that this pregnancy was difficult was an understatement.

--

After that incident, Naoya forbade you from having any form of excursion and threatened servants left and right to take care of menial tasks. You had to tell him to stop yelling so much lest he scared the baby in your belly. Only then would he quiet down a bit and mutter, "My son isn’t that useless."

“You know…we could have a girl too.” You waited for a response.

Naoya wrapped his arms around you, a hand resting over your belly. “I will have no weakling girl.” 

Then the two of you, along with the one growing inside of you, fell into slumber.

--

Akiko, having gone through the process of pregnancy and childbirth, often checked in on you and answered any questions you had. She was very strict about the pregnancy meditation exercises. Under her watch, there wasn’t a single day you could slack. The medicine tasted awful, but Akiko insisted you finish the whole bowl. Often, she watched you finish everything, with a piece of candy waiting to wash the bitter taste away. In many ways, she was the mother figure in your life.

Mai and Maki stopped spending time with you after they began their lessons. You wondered if you made the right choice in sending them to training, but ultimately, in this clan, you knew they had no choice. You knew they were talented, in ways that you could never amount to. Strength meant everything.

--

One evening, while Naoya was still at a clan meeting and Akiko was away, you decided to charge your old phone. You weren’t allowed anywhere near it during your pregnancy, not that you had much need for it. It was bad for the baby, was what they told you. But the device was still something for you to fiddle with, the size felt like it just belonged in the hand. You flipped it open. To your surprise, you had gotten a number of missed calls from someone you would never have imagined—Gojo Satoru. You hesitated, but dialed back, wondering what could have happened.

The sound of his voicemail was playing in your head already. Except he picked up.

“Finally, it’s been ages. When will your clan ever embrace new tech?”

“Satoru,” you greeted. “What a surprise, I didn’t think you would have anything come to me about.”

He chuckled. “Can’t I call if I missed you?” 

“I’m married now, if you need to be reminded.” You looked down at your midsection. “And very pregnant.”

“Oh, I know you’re knocked up.” The breathy voice seemed to tickle your ear. Gojo was probably laying down, on a couch or a bed. “A main branch Zenin spawn is probably pretty difficult I assume? How are you still doing?”

“Pampered suffocation.”

“Good, good. It’s probably best you’re relaxed, take a seat. How is the Zenin young master?”

“Naoya…yes, he treats me well.” You smiled at the memory of him during lunch. He had personally sliced and plated fruit for you.

“Honestly, I didn’t even think that his spouse would end up being you. Glad to hear it though. And have you talked with your father at all recently?”

No. 

“They’re busy,” you explained.

“Too busy to even visit or inquire about their daughter?”

Gojo’s question stumped you. The question that you had wondered about ever since the first day was finally spoken out loud. Even for a clan as strict as the Zen’in, surely if you couldn’t visit home, they could’ve paid you a visit? A phone call?

“I figured. What wonderful parents you have.” Gojo’s lighthearted voice switched to a serious tone. “I suppose you still deserve to know the truth.”

He explained that he’s been working on a perplexing phenomenon of curses in a few districts. There was typically some sort of pattern to where they appeared, their type, and their strength. The data was odd and Gojo had studied each of the cases in detail. But it didn’t make sense to you. 

“Satoru,” you interrupted him. “I’m not really following?”

“Did you not understand? I just explained—”

“Yes, but why,” you exasperated. Images of your clansmen, covered in a white cloth, being brought back from the streets flooded your mind. Blood-soaked bandages and screams while the clan physician strained himself to attend to all the wounded. The nights your mother stayed up late waiting for your father’s team to return. The visceral chaos and stench of death loomed over everyone you loved. "You know what happened. The cursed spirits had been growing in power and they were overrunning the clan's wards. If Naoya hadn't helped, more the sorcerers would've—"

A dry laugh cut you off. "Would've been just fine if not for the youngest son of Naobito trying to win you over. Helped your clan? Who even told you that? Was it your father when the Zenin proposed? And you really just believed them? You're more stupid than I had thought. Were you a shy, bashful bride eager to be a little plaything for your clan’s hero? You never even wondered why it was only your clan's ward that was badly affected? Time to wake up, princess. Why would anyone from your family want to speak to the sacrificial lamb and reason for all their suffering?"

Hang-up, your mind screamed at you. How dare he point the blame at you. Where were you when I was in trouble Satoru?

“And why should I believe you?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to. A bastard and a dimwit make a lovely pair.”

You swallowed as your head grew dizzy and began breathing heavily in an attempt to intake more oxygen.

Gojo realized his harsh tone and sighed. “Are you still there? Listen, I know there wasn’t much you could’ve done anyway. I’m just telling you this because I suppose we were acquainted in our youth.”

Acquainted. Just acquainted. But more importantly, all that you have known, all that you believed for the past years were being torn apart and rearranged in the span of fifteen minutes.

“Yes. Thank you, Satoru,” you managed to whisper.

“I realize this is probably a surprise, but I also want to assure—” He was cut off by the sound of a woman calling his name in the background.

“I’m needed elsewhere; take care.” 

You set the phone down after Satoru hung up and sat in silence trying to piece together the information that was just dumped onto you. You fell back onto the mattress, a hand over your belly. A heaviness weighed down your chest. It was madness to believe the words of the man on the other side of the phone. What was he to you now? No one. Your father and mother explained everything to you. Who was he to tell you what was the truth?

The relief when everyone saw the Zenin clan symbol on the guest’s hakama couldn’t have been fabricated. The hope in people’s faces wasn’t a lie. Even though you were hiding behind the screen doors at the time, the sincerity in his voice when he asked your father for your hand had to be true. That man saved the whole clan. Serve him well. If Naoya was the hero, why were those the parting words from your family on the day of your wedding?

A quiet knock pulled you out of your thoughts. “My lady, I have brought your tonic.��

The room was completely dark already. Who knows how long you’ve laid there trying to make sense of everything? 

You dragged yourself to the door and found a young girl holding a wooden serving tray with a bowl of bitter, black liquid. “Lady Akiko is currently away. She tasked me to bring this to your ladyship.”

You picked up the bowl and quickly downed the contents. It didn’t taste quite as foul as you had remembered. “Is the meeting over?” 

“It should be ending around this time. Should I escort you to the main hall?”

“No...I can go by myself,” you said, dismissing her. 

You had to hear it from Naoya himself. He was your husband.

Every week, the main branch had a formal meeting. As you got closer to the main hall, you could hear the footsteps shuffling as the men in the room were wrapping up. Quite murmurs and grumbles over the meetings slipped through the cracks. The first person to exit the sliding door was Naoya. He had a scowl on his face, no doubt, the meeting took a turn for the worse as well, but it faded into a relaxed grin when he saw you, coming over.

“What a change to see you here waiting for me. I am starving—”

He was about to check on you when he noticed your blank expression and puffy eyes. You got straight to the point, spoiling the atmosphere in an instant.

"Naoya…”

Naoya’s eyes lost their initial glimmer. He noticed a few other clansmen looking your way.

“If there’s anything to discuss, you may bring it up later in our room,” he said firmly. He didn’t know the reason for your unsettling expression, but whatever it was that was on your mind, he did not want a scene.

Naoya thought back to the irritating meeting and the currently disintegrating relationship with the Gojo clan. The Gojos were being extremely selfish, trying to take control of the Jujutsu Sorcerer Committee's favor. All of them were envious of the Zenins, trying to push the clan off its pedestal. Naoya fumed at the thought of the six-eyed Satoru who had always been treated as the pride and hope of the jujutsu society. They were close in age, and despite the two never meeting often, Naoya heard more than enough about society's adulation of the infamous sorcerer.

He couldn’t hear what you were mumbling under your breath, but the few words he caught and the name of his nemesis told him that it was definitely not going to be a pleasant conversation. He easily scooped you up despite your protests and pounding fists on his shoulders. With a few long strides, entered the hallway near your quarters. Only then, away from prying eyes, did he set you down.

 “Is it true?”

Naoya heard it clearly this time.

He eyed you for a moment and scoffed, looking away in disdain. "Woman, what are you rambling on about right now? Can't you tell I'm not in a good mood? I said, let's go back."

“No.” Your irritation struck a nerve. “Tell me right now. Is it true that you were the one responsible for planting  those high-level curses into my clan's ward?"

Ignoring the squeeze on your arm, you continued, “Satoru told me everything.”

Naoya felt a vein throb in his temple when he heard the name slip from your mouth.

“How you plotted and controlled the curses to attack our sorcerers right after a battle. Those curses, they were all picked from the disciplinary room right? Special Zenin locked curses. You would let my people get hurt till they were close to death before showing up. Satoru told me everything, what more do you have to say?"

"Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. Do you just blindly believe anything he tells you?"

"Who am I supposed to believe, you?” you snapped back. “Satoru told me how you threatened my family, that's why they never said anything to me up until now.” Maybe you would still be at home, with family and loved ones.

You glared at Naoya in shock as the sting on your face settled into a sharp burn. He took a step back and pointed at you, confused and disoriented. “You. You forced me.” 

 This was the first time he actually struck you in this way. 

"What are you going to do Naoya? Kill your own wife and child? Is that how you solve all of your problems? With your oh-so-powerful, inherited Zenin techniques?" You turned and began to walk away. "You're fucking pathetic."

"Don't you dare turn your back on me!" he roared after you. "Stop right there!"

There was no room for fear while fury lit your eyes. You ignored the rest of Naoya's threats and stormed back to your room. Naoya was responsible for everything. He lied to you. He manipulated everyone and oppressed your clan. And you believed all of his sweet words, and enjoyed his kisses and touches. Your numb cheek taunted you.

You slid the door open, but your feet couldn’t budget. You gasped and felt excruciating pain stabbing in your belly. You clutched your midsection as cold sweat ran down your back. The last thing you heard was someone frantically calling your name.

–

“Do something!” 

“Young Master, t-there’s no response.” 

“I don’t fucking care, do something!”

“W-We’ll have to induce labor…and—”

Naoya glared.

“Yes! Yes understood!”

--

The lights in the room were so bright. In just a couple of weeks, a life could have filled this space. It would have been a boy, just as everyone had hoped. Now only silence accompanies you and your breasts that ached painfully. You never even got to see him. Did he look like you or his father? 

You sat in the empty nursery room that you had spent the last few months pouring your time and feelings into. As if the loss of your unborn child hadn’t been difficult enough, the hushed whispers of the clan had been torturous. You had felt eyes from members of the main branch to the attendants, all hundred pairs of eyes surveying you whenever you had walked down the hall, scrutinizing the woman who was incapable of carrying the Zenin heir to full term.

You lost track of how long you sat in mourning. Time ticked by slowly, but eventually, a day became two days. A week passed by and to your horror, your breasts full and swollen with milk, finally had to empty its contents. Milk leaked out your nipples uncontrollably.

Perhaps it was the presence of the milk and no child in your arms to feed the liquid to. Reality finally hit you while you poured another cup of milk down the sink.

The door slid open. It was Akiko bringing your meal. She knelt down next to you and pulled you into her arms. Her steady hand ran over your shoulders as she quietly said, "If you want to cry, then just let it out. There's no one else here."

You felt your nose prickle as the familiar sensation of tears spilled from your eyes. They soaked through Akiko's kimono, but she did not seem to mind, only resting her hand on your back while you wailed. You blamed everything on the father of your unborn child. It was Naoya who was responsible, you were sure of it. He took the child from you with his temper and violence. You cried for yourself and your unborn child.

Mai and Maki had once confided in you that their mother gave up on them. They had told you that their mother never stood up for them in front of their father and that you had been the only one who tried to give them care and love. And here you were crying in their mother's arms as a failure. Akiko may not have been able to do everything for her girls, but you couldn't even protect your child's life. 

–

You just finished a bath and were about to go to sleep in the nursery again. It was the only place you had some privacy and peace. Except, the room wasn’t empty at all.

“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, arms folded.

Naoya saw you enter, and placed the decorative toy back on its shelf. He crossed over languidly, arm resting on the frame right over your head. His presence made you dizzy, but you refused to yield a single step. He also recently bathed, a bitter herbal scent clung to skin.

“Did you think that you could avoid me forever?” he murmured next to your ear.

Your eyes met with his. At this distance, you could make out the details of his irises. Naoya’s eyes were undeniably beautiful and intoxicating. “One day at a time, I’ll get there eventually.” You made a move to push him away.

“Foolish woman,” he chuckled and took your hands. “It’s time to go back to normal.”

Naoya pressed his lips on your palm. “I missed you. I need you,” he crooned. 

“Naoya, we can never be the same anymore. Not after—” You gestured to the room. “This.”

“We’ll have another. Once you’re with another, the clan will naturally stop talking.” 

“Don’t touch me. As if I’m some breeding cattle.” Naoya didn’t seem the least bit fazed by your attempts to break out of his grasp. His silence taunted you, daring you to challenge his authority. 

“I’ll never forgive you,” you snarled. All you could do was glare at him. “It’s all your fucking fault.”

Naoya tilted your face towards him. Fingers traveled down your neck and tightly squeezed. Your cheeks burned.

The air thickened as Naoya’s cursed energy began to fill the space. “In this lifetime, you belong to me. Accept your fate.”

Lips roughly closed over yours. The pressure around your neck made your head spin. Your fists hammered his chest in a futile attempt. 

Naoya yanked your robe open. Your nipples were heavy and swollen. Wet. He cupped your breast and squeezed the soft flesh, completely fixated on the spray of white milk spurting out. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but the relief you felt from the release felt so good.

“Did that feel good?” he sneered before tugging and pressing on your breast some more. The front of his robes was covered by wet splatters. 

 “N-No,” you rasp, feeling Naoya’s hand travel towards your navel, tugging the waist-tie that was barely circled around your waist. He lifted one of your thighs to expose your dripping entrance. Cold air brushed against your thighs. “Not in here. Not in this room,” you begged, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Troublesome woman,” Naoya muttered and set you down. He clasped his palms together and began to draw an immense amount of cursed energy. “Domain Expansion: Time Cell Moon Palace.”

The nursery melted away as the space transformed into a dark void. This was the first time you’ve been taken into a domain, and it made you feel both weak and nauseous. A giant eye stared down at you, iris dilated, prying, and peering into your existence.

“No complaints here, right? Don’t even think about escaping.” 

Everything happened so quickly. You felt your back sink into a fleshy substance, legs folded and knees pressed up against your face.

“Wait, Nao—” And he was in you. You gripped Naoya’s biceps to stabilize yourself, nails imprinted deeply. A shudder escaped your lips after the initial jolt of pain. By reflex, you clamped tightly around him.

“Fuck,” he growled. “How are you still so tight?”

The dull ache remained from the recent trauma remained with every thrust Naoya made. Pleasure and pain are tightly bonded together. Disgust at the moan that slipped from your throat that earned a predatory smile. It drove him to pound you harder. His rough hand squeezed your breasts, spraying your overflowing milk supply. It splashed onto his face dripping down his jawline onto your face and lips. This was perhaps the first and only time you could imagine tasting your own milk. Naoya wiped his face and licked the opaque fluid off his fingers.

“It’s sweet,” he remarked, surprised by the taste. And almost feral, as though he had discovered something rare and precious, he dipped his head down to lap up the tiny puddles on the contours of your body. His tongue traced your enlarged and pert nipples, sucking on the sensitive bud to encourage more milk flow. You arched your back towards him, grinding your hips desperately in tears as you reached your climax.

Naoya grunted, feeling close. He held onto your hips and increased his pace until he came in you, filling your womb with a load of hot, white seed.

The darkness that surrounded you began to falter under Naoya’s distraction. The momentary weakness that came with the sexual release was like a pinhole in a balloon. Darkness melted away. The voyeuring eye disappeared, replaced in your vision by a mobile with soft plushies hung on a cotton rope. Nausea washed away the lingering, twitching pleasure.

“Get out,” you hoarsely whispered.

Still drunk on hormones, Naoya felt dizzy and confused. “What did you say?” 

Milk and semen stuck to your skin. Mustering all the energy remaining in you, you repeated. "Get out. Get out. Get out."

The demand-plea came out in constricted wheezes as your body convulsed and shook.

"Tch. "A scowl replaced Naoya's drunken expression. Completely fed up, he left you laying among the stained blankets. "You make me sick, woman," he spat at you. 

The room was finally empty. You laid there unmoving and naked, staring blankly at the ceiling.

#zenin naoya smut #naoya smut #jjk smut #yandere jjk #naoya x reader smut #zenin naoya x reader smut #tw naoya #emi.freshtea #tw pregnancy #tw noncon #tumblr tags HATE me ;-;

[haikyooot]

Language of Love

Pairings: Itoshi Sae x gn!reader Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, breakups

a/n: let it be known sae fics are exclusively angst unless otherwise noted. 

There are five languages of love. You are fluent in all five.  

"I love you, Sae." "Why?" "Because it's you, I do."

Why? How can you not? It's all too easy. So deeply enamored are you, by his silken lashes. Each blink makes your heart flutter. Serenaded by the sound of your name rolling off his tongue. Satisfied by the feeling of warmth when you are in his arms. It's only right that he knows just how much you love him.

To begin is the language of affirmations. It's forever endless and bountiful. There are countless words to describe Sae. In more languages than you will ever know. Numerous ways you tell him in plain words how much you adore him. The beauty he embodies. The talent he beholds. If Sae counts the notes you leave to him, he'll even know that the words you write most are no longer your own name.

Governing all desire to be helpful is the language of service. It's in the special lunchboxes that you make while tossing another bandage wrapper into the trash. Crisp collars, freshly pressed not a single crease in sight. Driving to the next pharmacy because the only medication that will work for him is sold out. Thank you. That's what you know he'll do.

Next is a gift, the physical manifestation of your love. Words are merely whisps of noise, but this is the proof—the formation of atoms representing your heart. Yarn crossed and looped in a way that reminds you of your nerves when he's there. Cameras will see your love wrapped around him. It protects him, accompanies him as an extension of you when you can't be right next to him.

And the language of quality time, when every second is an infinite journey of joy. The moments you spend in a car, on a train, or on a plane. The moment before parting when he walks to the locker room and you find your way to the bleachers. The hours into the night on the couch watching game replays. Just having to be there with him, in the same space at the same time.

Finally, touch. The familiarity of skin. The sensation of heat. You caress perfection. You undo tight knots and replace them with soft kisses. Love is between the way you melt into him and how your fingers tangle into dusty-rose tresses.

Love. Is Sae. Is Love.

And that's where the end begins. It's a song in reversal. A hairline crack that's barely noticeable, but it's spreading throughout the vase.  Folded arms hide his hand away. A grumble after turning in bed. The shape of his back is an unreadable book. He seems to float away. So close, but entirely out of reach.

And the day turns to night turns to day turns to night. Time zooms by, passing faster than you can catch your breath. There's no time at all. To see him, you pick up your pace. To catch a glimpse of him, you'll try to wait. You stay up late. You wake up early. A weekend? Just an hour? His schedule never clears. Quality exists elsewhere, but not in time with you.

And emptiness, where there are no gifts. No reminders.  When the special dates come around, nothing special. Not even an afterthought. No proof, it's all just a theory, a hypothesis. Everywhere, there are reminders of him. There are things belonging to you. But the memories of "us" and "we" stop at some time in the distant past.

And weariness moves into your body like a speck of mold now consuming the entire fruit. Because everything you do is unwanted. You cut and chop and discard. Every attempt to serve what remains leaves you with nothing left. Scraps.

Finally, you wake up and realize that affirmation is actually spelled as confirmation. How can the vase not shatter when its base falls apart? Your suspicions receive an answer. The pleads finally come to a stop. He looks at you bewildered and slightly confused.

"I'm leaving, Sae." "Why?” "Because..."

There are five languages of love. But Itoshi Sae doesn't know any.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock angst #sae x reader #sae angst #bllk x reader #emi.freshtea #any guesses which hq character this framework was initially for? #im sooooo conflicted over recycling wips. some will work but others are genuinely custom tailored it has to be THATTT character and only the #m you know what i mean?????

[bontenten]

METAMORPHOSES 02 || Rules and Traditions

Pairings: Zenin Naoya x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader (unrequited) WC: 3.9k Series Genre/Warnings: smut, noncon/dubcon, emotional/physical abuse, yandere, Naoya, misogyny, arranged marriage, pregnancy, miscarriage, birth, lactation...it’s dark, and manga spoilers yupyup A/N: toxic is too healthy a word for naoya Series Masterlist

The daughter-in-law of the Zenins had much to do. Should you become the clan mother one day, you would have to oversee all of the domestic functions, the attendants, and chores that support the operations of the clan. Everything had its own rules and traditions: from the time people woke, to the division of the sorcerer classes and clan hierarchy, to the time of day meals were had and the laundry was done. You were a fast learner and quickly became indoctrinated into the life of the Zenins, familiarizing yourself with everything about everything.

People respected you as the new daughter-in-law of the main branch; there wasn't much that anyone could say you did wrong. You played your part perfectly, so you thought that the same sort of smooth development would also be reflected in your marriage.

Except Naoya was much more volatile than you could have ever imagined. The first weeks of loving promises quickly ended after Naoya returned to the field again, picking up missions. He often returned irritated and aggravated by anything or anyone that did not please him in the right way.

"I told you that I hate eating this."

"For the last fucking time, who allowed you to touch that with your filthy hands?"

"Get out."

And while Naoya lashed out at the attendants, you were never at the direct receiving end of his outrage. Instead, he would try to find you during his frenzy and then afterward finally calm down with enough reason. It soon became common knowledge among the attendants that should young master Naoya be ticked-off, they should immediately point him to the direction of his wife.

Today was no different. 

“The lady….The lady is in the study.” You heard a stack of books knocked over in the room across from you before something was kicked over. Naoya stormed into the room you were in, stalking over in wide steps. You thought, finally, he would have something to pick about you too, and already steeled yourself for whatever he had to say.

He dropped to the tatami mat in a soft thud. Arms wrapped around your shoulders as Naoya tightly hugged you to his frame. You could feel his deep, exerted breaths from his chest and heartbeat.

“Did something happen?”

“Weaklings, all of them. Pissing me off.”

A small, exasperated smile broke on your face. You had grown used to Naoya’s blunt, rude, and crass language. “Don’t be angry, it’s not good for you,” you advised. “They all had their own chores, why did you have to go around doing that? Just tell me if you have something on your mind.”

“Later”, he muttered before slipping a hand into your robe to cup your breast and pushing the fabric down to expose your shoulders. His lips found the bare skin behind your shoulders, still tender from the night before.

“N-Naoya. It’s still daytime,” you squeaked out, attempting to straighten your attire. “The servants are outside.”

Naoya growled and roughly pinched your nipples. “It’s nothing that they haven’t heard. They hear your cries for me every night.”

Before you could make another plea, you felt your back make contact to the tatami mat. The thick waistband failed miserably to the loosening fabric in order. Your kimono skirt was hiked up to your waist, leaving your bare legs free for his hands to squeeze and grab. Naoya straddled your legs around his waist, bearing down to grind himself along your glistening slit. Your toes curled tightly in the loose cotton socks.

He was hungry in seeking comfort from you. With his whole shaft buried tightly within your stretched walls, his groans fanned hot air on your earlobe. Heat and sweat melted across naked flesh. Your deep gasping breaths pressed your chest against his tightly.

“So fucking good,” Naoya slurred, before shuddering in ecstasy and unraveling his weight across your body.

You cradled him in the most intimate embrace. “Tell me now, my husband, what is troubling your mind.” 

Naoya doesn’t respond immediately, hesitating to reveal his thoughts. A gentle hand brushed over his damp hair, pushing the bangs out of his face only for the tresses to fall right back. Encouraged, he finally relented. “Father’s going soft. His lenience on his brothers. It’s a shame upon the clan name. Vermins of the main branch.” 

“The luckier they are to have you then.”

“The clan head position will be mine.”

“And why wouldn’t you, since Father is the current head? And your brothers have no aspirations for the position?” 

“They are probably poisoning the old man’s tea for all I know, treacherous bastards.”

You swallowed your incredulous question as to why they would if everyone was family. But your time here also taught you that the Zenins operated more as a community of winners versus losers. Naoya’s suggestion was very likely.

“There’s still a lot of time,” you carefully told him. “Besides you’re the leader of Hei and your name is feared and known. You’ll probably be the only candidate.”

"You're right about that. Only I can be the head of this clan. No one can take my birthright away from me." Naoya finally pushed himself up to get dressed.

“Shall I go draw a bath?” 

“No. Jinichi is training new brats, I have to go see myself if they are acceptable.”

The permanent wrinkles in your attire couldn’t be salvaged, so you made do to cover yourself decently. To your surprise, Naoya began to help you with your obi. It was obvious that he was in a pleasant mood.

“Jinichi is a strong and loyal clansman. His wife is quite talented as well.”

Naoya scoffed and secured the knot. “Hardly comparable, what are you trying to suggest?”

“Well,” you turned and softly held his hands, “Mai and Maki are growing up. Shouldn't it be time for them to have proper instructors to learn clan techniques and martial arts? They are already much older than when other children begin training."

"Ogi's spawns? This isn't the first time you brought it up, what makes you like them so much?" Women couldn’t amount to anything within the clan, so it would be a waste of resources.  

“Their mother, Akiko, has taken very good care of me. Mai has inherited a clan technique, right? I think Jinichi’s wife could be a good instructor. This doesn’t take up more of Jinichi’s time."

“Jinichi’s time shouldn’t be wasted on children.”

“You’re right,” you hurriedly agreed. “But the girls are still your cousin and an extension of the main branch. It wouldn’t do good to have someone else be involved in their training.”

You squeezed your hands around his and looked expectantly at him. The corner of Naoya’s lips tugged upwards. “Sneaky little minx, you have all this cleverly thought out.”

You smiled at the win and whispered. “As the wife of the future clan-head ought to.”

His grin spread even wider. “Maki is untalented, but her agility is still agreeable. You can send her to Kukuru’s training school tomorrow.”

“My husband is the most thoughtful,” you commended and tip-toed to press a kiss on his cheek.

Naoya snaked his arms around your waist in an instant. “I cannot wait to see more of your mothering instincts when you are with my heir. I am very pleased by this side of you.” His voice was sultry and low, numbing and seductive.

“Jinichi is still waiting for you,” you chided, putting some space in between. “I will have the kitchen prepare your favorite.”

Luckily, the call to responsibility was enough for Naoya to let you go. Although you still felt weak in your steps, you were excited to share the good news to Mai and Maki after a much-needed bath.

–

Your life pretty much fell into a routine, but one particular autumn day was out of the ordinary. Ever since you married into the Zenin clan, you haven’t heard from Gojo Satoru. More accurately speaking, even before your engagement, he was already out of your life. So, seeing him, white hair fluttering in the wind, standing in the middle of the clan courtyard was certainly surprising. You stood off to the side as Naobito and Naoya conversed with Satoru. A small boy hid behind him, dark eyes fluttering and confused.

The boy was called Fushiguro Megumi. His father was a renounced Zenin and the child took his mother's surname instead. You thought Megumi couldn’t possibly cause any harm, after all, what tides could a child—an orphan create? Except Naoya’s expression was very strained and barely hid the loathing in his eyes. If the clan insisted on keeping Megumi, you feared Naoya would tear out the boy’s throat on the spot. But with Satoru’s convincing words, and threats, Megumi was going to be under his wing instead. You saw the two out the front gate and managed to get a hold of Satoru for a few moments. 

"Satoru..." you met his gaze with a sort of distant familiarity. You had so many things to tell him, to ask him. All of the questions were stuck at the edge of your throat. “How have you been?”

"I've been well. Lady Zenin now, huh? And you?"

You let the title sound in your ears for a moment before answering a simple, "Good."

The last time you spoke to him had been through his voicemail—he never contacted you afterward. You couldn't see his expression beneath his mask, but you imagined that his eyes were still the same crystal blue. You averted your eyes to look at the weeds beginning to sprout in the corner while an awkward silence grew between the two of you.

"Well then, I still have lots to do, so I'll be taking my leave," he bowed and pressed down Megumi's head into a short bow too. "Come on Megumi, bow to your pretty auntie, you won't be seeing her anytime soon."

"Don't touch my hair!" Megumi grumbled, breaking from Satoru's grasp before fixing his messed up locks.

Megumi was very adorable. His dark hair and lashes were clearly from his Zenin genetics. It was this boy who had ultimately inherited the coveted Zenin family shadow techniques—the most prized one of all. It was a great and dangerous burden for such a young age after all, and you thought that Satoru taking the boy away would probably be best for both Megumi and the clan.

--

You winced as another vase was knocked over, crashing into pieces upon impact on the floor. Naoya let out another raging yell.

"That six-eyed bastard, Gojo Satoru. It's him, isn't it? You fancy him."

You made an attempt to reason with him. "There's nothing between us, Naoya. There wasn't ever anything between us. I married you, I am your wife. I haven't seen nor heard from him ever since our wedding."

"He doesn't even look at you," Naoya mocked. "Your husband was standing right there in front of you. But all you could do was stare at your past lover, huh?"

"Naoya—"

He was in front of you in an instant, rage and cursed energy pouring from him. The air was thick. You felt your throat constrict with panicked fear, as your legs gave out and you dropped to the ground. You shut your eyes and huddled in a shaking mess while Naoya knocked down the shoji screen and stood over you.

You've seen how well Naoya could fight, knew how easily he could've snapped your neck like it was nothing. You thought you were going to be an exception to his rage, that you were the one factor that could calm him down when he was irritated, but now that you were once at the receiving end, you had to admit to yourself: Naoya was terrifying and cruel, and you were not an exception to his wrath.

You hear fabric rustling and then a sharp pain jolt through your scalp as Naoya gripped a fistful of hair to lift your head up. 

“Pathetic bitch,” he sneered, squeezing your cheeks between his large hand. “Let me remind your pretty little head who you should look at.”

Eyes still seeing stars from the whiplash, you could only whimper. Naoya pulled his hakama down.

“Open wide.”

The moment your lips loosened just slightly, Naoya pushed the back of your head and shoved his cock down your throat. Tears prickled in the corners of your eye as your chest tried to heave the foreign object out with a gag. He pulled out for a moment and tapped the wet muscle across your cheek, precum smearing a mess. 

“I put up with your coyness because I find it amusing. That’s not an invitation for you to whore yourself out.”

“I wasn’t, I—”

“When I am disciplining you, you will not speak back to me. Be good.”

You could hear the fury in his voice and knew that there was no room for compromise at this time. The only thing you could do at the moment was to cooperate and hope that the whole thing would be over soon.

“Y-Yes,” you croaked and licked your lips. Naoya did not tug at your hair this time. You supported your hands on his thighs and lapped at the tip. You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on breathing through your nostrils. Naoya let out a pleased groan and immediately the room seemed that much calmer. For a while, his hand only rested on your head. The slopping noises from your saliva pumped adrenaline through your veins. But you were much too concentrated to give any attention to the wet pool between your thighs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, taking half a step to adjust his balance. His pace became more erratic and each thrust more forceful, until he shot out all of his cum at release. “Swallow. All of it.”

The heavy smell and taste remained even after two gulps. After ensuring you swallowed, he re-tied his hakama, while you sat disheveled. Your eyes followed him across the room. Naoya spared a glance towards you before he slid open the shoji door. Three attendants knelt outside, head bowed so low their foreheads seemed to touch the floor. One of them must have been new from the way she trembled.

“Hear nothing and speak nothing if you value your life.”

“Yes, Master Naoya,” the servants said in unison.

When Naoya’s footsteps could no longer be heard, they slowly rose to their feet and entered the room with their heads still bowed low. The most senior of them quietly gave out orders to the other two who quickly began to clean up the broken ceramics and knocked over furniture. She approached you and presented a handkerchief, carefully held out with her palms. You quietly took it and turned your head aside to wipe your mouth. The attendant helped you up from your spot and you excused yourself from the room.

When you came back into the room, all marks of Naoya’s outburst were completely erased. The only sign was the new treasures that decorated the shelves. You quietly picked at your dinner alone, only managing to sip on some of the soup to soothe your raw throat.

--

The lamp on the nightstand was the only source of light in the bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and tightly gripped your phone. The model was very old and outdated, but still usable. Technology didn’t exactly match the aesthetics of this traditional household. You flipped the device open and navigated to the phone call history—a long list of pixelated red arrows. It’s been a long time since you connected with your family. They rarely responded to your calls and if they did, it was from a side member only. They said the clan was doing well and your father was especially busy. But details were never shared as you were no longer a part of the clan.

Some days you wished for someone to talk to. The closest people you could converse at ease with were Mai and Maki, but both girls were so young, there was little you could share. Akiko always kept a straight and stern expression, in truth, you were sometimes a bit afraid of her. The Zenins were a family that frowned upon laziness and inefficiencies. It wouldn’t reflect well for the daughter-in-law of the main branch to have a loose tongue. 

You didn’t notice Naoya’s presence in the room until he took the phone out of your hands and put it back into the drawer.

“If you’re worried about your family, you could just ask me. They’re busy you know.” He slid under the covers on his half the bed. “Why don’t you worry a little about me?”

You lay down on your side and shut off the lamp, bringing darkness into the room. The covers were pulled tight over your shoulders as you faced the edge of the bed. “You’re already so strong, what could possibly happen to you?”

“Truly, did you think I was this way?”

“Are you suggesting you were not?” You couldn’t help but snap back, regretting it immediately.

He responded with an amused chuckle. “Have I told you about my mother?” 

No, you thought to yourself. In fact, no one mentioned Naoya’s mother, so you knew nothing about the woman other than she died during Naoya’s childhood.

“She was an unvirtuous woman, a harlot who got what she deserved,” Naoya said coldly, hatred laced in his words. You learned that she was accused of an affair with a servant-class Zenin and the clan elders decided to cast her into the disciplinary pit. “How dare she selfishly ask to see me before her judgment. Did you know? I would have cut her down myself if I could.”

Did Naoya think that of you too? The blanket shifted as Naoya pulled himself close behind you.

“I know you and that Gojo don’t have anything,” Naoya said softly, a gentle hand cradling you against him. “You would never betray me the way my mother did me.”

Still you did not move.

He went on. “I was three. Scorned and starved. I will never forget those eyes that mocked me, and questioned my legitimacy. Then, I finally proved my birthright after demonstrating that I inherited my father’s techniques. You know those trash who doubted me? They were forced to acknowledge that I was a prodigy whether they wanted to or not. I would soon surpass each and every one of them.”

You didn’t know this about Naoya. It was the first time he was sharing so much detail about his childhood and, this side of him.

“They hate me as much as I despise them. They’re always looking for an opening to burrow in. In this family, there will never be anyone on my side simply because they favor me. My men follow me because I’m the only one who can emerge victorious. They value their lives, so they submit to me. Today, did you see how the elders were fawning over Megumi?”

You remembered the enthusiastic voices for the boy to return to the clan. You understood why. Naoya didn’t need to explain further. It was the elders’ only chance to find a suitable enough challenge against Naoya when the time came. They were all against him, his own family and kin. He had no allies.

Finally, you turned around in his arms and buried your face into his chest, where it allotted you feelings of security. Naoya seemed less like the cruel son of this prideful clan and more like a hurt child begging for security. One who lost all trust and attachments. You could imagine him as the young boy he once was, eyes rubbed red and raw, with no one to protect him. It made your heartache.

“I am with you, always, because I love you.”

His kiss wasn’t turned away. You allowed his affection, embraced and deepened it. Your body began to grow hot. You rolled over on top of him and boldly slipped your nightgown off. It was unexpected at first, but Naoya caught on.

You weren’t quite sure what you were doing, only that you wanted to prove some point to him. Both of you were poor souls in age-old clans.

It was a full moon tonight. The ethereal light pooled across the bed and illuminated your naked bodies. What was he so excited about? Was it your desire for him? Naoya marveled at the highlights that emphasized the sloping lines of your form, open and bare, for him to see. 

“You bewitch me.” Naoya easily flipped himself on top. He softly squeezed your waist, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. Before you could squirm away, two fingers drag between your soaked folds back and forth before dipping in and pumping slowly. “You’re so beautiful. So wet and ready for me. Do I make you feel good?”

You moaned affirmations and arched into Naoya’s palms, bliss washing over all the nerves in your body. This was the man your body yearned for. You cried out again when he entered you. His fullness filled you with completion.

Naoya’s moans were beautiful, you thought. It was because of you.

“I can never let you go,” Naoya muttered. His hands grabbed at the back of your thighs, pushing your legs over. Deeper sensations were being dragged out each time he rocked his hips into you. “I want to see you…round and with my child,” he rasped and fucked you harder.

Moans mixed with the lewd sounds of skin slapping and squelches. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, mind in a blur all you could do was chant his name over and over again. Naoya, Naoya, Naoya.

You came hard, trembling as release washed over you. Naoya held onto you tightly, embracing you like a treasure he could never part with. 

--

Before your second anniversary, breakfast with the rest of the main Zenin family ended with your nausea acting up aggressively. You barely began your run for the washroom when a painful lurch launched all the contents you ate out of your mouth. It was entirely miserable, and some of the other family members scorned how crude your behavior was, completely out of conduct. But thank goodness Akiko was there to assist you back to your room while the other servants cleaned up the mess made.

The clan doctor was called in and moments later, you saw Naoya rush into the bedroom and come towards you in big steps. He wrapped his arms around you, scooping you up securely into a spin.

"I have an heir," he announced to you in excitement. "You are with child."

Pregnancy. It explained all the changes and oddities that were happening to your body: the missed period, the altering physique, the lethargy, and the racing thoughts that would cross your mind more frequently than ever before.

Naoya let go and took a seat on the bed next to you while he watched you hesitantly place a hand over your belly that had yet to show signs of the growing life within. He felt a surge of pride imagining what his family would look like when the child was going to be born. A new potential heir to the main line hadn't been born in years. With Naobito as the current head, Naoya felt sure that he would be next in line, and once his son was born, it would be a clear lineage of succession no one else in the clan could argue against. That man's son, Megumi, shall never have any claim to any piece of the clan. Naoya would make sure of that.

All the arguments that had ever conspired between the two of you seemed to disappear in an instant. None of them really mattered because, at the end of the day, you were his wife, carrying his child.

#naoya x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya smut #yandere jjk #jjk x reader #naoya x reader smut #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw naoya #emi.freshtea

[bontenten]

METAMORPHOSES

Pairings: Zenin Naoya x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader (unrequited) Genre/Warnings: smut, noncon/dubcon, emotional/physical abuse, manipulation, yandere, arranged marriage, pregnancy, miscarriage, birth, lactation...snuff in extended ending...jjk violence/gore/supernaturals...it’s dark, and manga spoilers yupyup

A/N: after seeing what happened to Naoya I just had to LOL. dug up an old wip and actually finished it. thank you beta for your first read and support, it’s unfortunate what happened to us after, but i’m still thankful. 

Summary:  Throughout multiple points in your life, you wondered what it would be like if Naoya were dead. You had cursed and shouted at him, submitted your body to touch. It was all taxing and exhausting. You tried your hardest to keep your indifference. Still, he found his way in. It was a mistake. Everything, all of it.

01 || A Zenin Wife 02 || Rules and Traditions 03 || An Heir 04 || Renewal  05 || It’s Cowardice 06 || Hate and Love Epilogue

#naoya smut #zenin naoya smut #yandere jjk #jjk x reader smut #yandere naoya #naoya x reader #zenin naoya x reader #how the eff to tags work again wtfffff #tw noncon #emi.freshtea

[bontenten]

good girl

Pairing: Itoshi Sae x f!reader WC: 2k Tags/Warning: eating disorders, throw-up, yandere, manipulation, body-shaming, degradation, humiliation, drugs, pregnancy mention, eating disorders

a/n: read the tags, not my problem otherwise. :looksaway: anyways, fun fact, football/soccer is so insanely popular on instagram. ronaldo is the most followed account with 579M (the only individual to pass 500M, the other is the ig account), closely followed by messi with 457M. 2 football clubs and 2 other football athletes-ish are also on the top 50 list. i was genuinely amazed?

Happiness is sharing that meal with the man you love the most, global football star, Itoshi Sae. After so many years of hard work, Sae is finally the star mid-fielder for FC Barcha. He has so many commercial gigs, sponsorships, and invitations to special events and dinners. With Sae, you have tasted things beyond your wildest dreams. You cannot imagine a better version of your life than the one right now, next to him. 

It's glamor and perfection for a little while. One day, the news headline flashes "Itoshi Rin: Star Striker of Bastard München". That day, you see a new, unfamiliar expression on Sae's face. You don't have a word for it, but you can describe it as a peculiar mix of pride and disgust. But he's the only one you'll ever look at. The best in the world, to you forever. You think it's enough. 

Rin's debut in the global football scene is hailed as the birth of a genius and superstar. The same talk shows, magazines, and brands suddenly flock over to the younger Itoshi. And for the first time, since Sae has joined FC Barcha, the team walks away from the World Cup, defeated. The journalists sensationalized the entire match. The most circulated photo is none other than Rin mid-air about to send the final point into the goal. 

A week later, Itoshi Sae is no longer the most followed individual on Instagram. He's overtaken by Itoshi Rin, with over 600 million followers in a feat that has only been achieved by the platform's own page. Sae never seemed to care about details like that, since he rarely ever posts to his page. It's usually managed by a special team instead. But you find Sae looking at Rin's page, focused on a photo of Rin and a gorgeous woman pressed tightly to him,  a popular gravure idol now better known as Rin's girlfriend. You will never forget the scrutinizing look he gives you that evening.

The comments about your body and eating habits started crawling in. You don't realize it at first, thinking that of course, Sae would know more about gastronomy than you. He's been to so many more places than you and seen so many things. He's always careful with his food too, as an athlete. 

--

You kiss him back, eagerly guiding his hand toward the waistline of your panties. Sae rests his hands on your hip and stops.

"You've put on weight," he comments bluntly.

You're a bit confused and still a bit excited.

"M-Maybe. I'm getting my period soon, so I might be a bit bloated," you stammered. Seeing Sae's uninterested expression, you cross your arms to hide your body. "I'll run sometime this week, all good."

Sae ignores your suggestion and leans back against the headboard. "Did you take the tablets I got for you?"

You think back to the large capsules in the jar that you're supposed to take twice a day. "Oh, I forgot. I'll just take it tomorrow," you tell him, not wanting to travel all the way downstairs so late at night.

Sae groans and gets up. A moment later he returns with a glass of water. "Here, I went to get it for you. You have to take it on time every day."

He offers you three pills in his palm and you take one, except he gestures for you to take more. 

You look at him cautiously. "I think...I'm only supposed to take one."

A loud sigh escapes him. "But you keep forgetting, so just in case. It's fine. You won't overdose. They're like vitamins." 

"Okay." You swallow pill after pill after pill.

Sae smiles and presses a kiss on your forehead. "Good girl, let's go to bed now."

--  

A month after taking those pills, you notice your tastebuds drastically changing. Everything you eat tastes like ashes. For most meals, you try to swallow a few bites, but they go down like sandpaper. And then everything is heaved out not too long afterward.

Sae is with you each time, giving you encouragement and comforting you. He gives you water to rinse out your mouth. He tells you that you feel better now that extra waste is cleared. It's funny that the first time you threw up, you thought you were pregnant. And had the same thought the second time your period was late. 

Your period isn't late. It's just gone.

Your wardrobe also transforms. Sae brings back so many gifts often, filling your closet with designer outfits. You recognize a couple of the brands. You've seen the photoshoots of Rin and his girlfriend. He asks you if you want to try them on. You should have realized that Sae doesn't spend his time playing dress-up with you. 

"Do they have another size, Sae?" you ask nervously, trying to suck in your core as tight as possible.

You see him wrap his arms around you in the mirror, face resting in the crook of your neck. He shakes his head. "I can't take back something I bought already. Do you still like the styles?"

You give him a weak smile and concede. "Yea, they're pretty."

"Good. You look good in them," Sae whispers low in your ears. "Just have to lose a bit more. One day you'll fit them just perfectly."

Sae tells you how important it is to have a goal in mind and always focus on the big picture. And that he'll help you. Always.

--

More weeks pass by. You can't sleep at night anymore. Your feet are just always so cold, nothing you wear or do can warm it up at all. And you're so hungry, your sense of smell is so heightened that the air is palpable. The faintest trace of something has your mouth watering. After checking that the man next to you is sleeping soundly, you carefully tip-toe down the hall, avoiding the floorboard spots that will creak. It's a laborious feat when you also have a  sprained ankle.

In the darkness of 3 A.M., you find heaven and bliss. You grab at the frozen foods but pause at the thought of turning on the stove or oven. Sae will wake up. You spot a single ice cream popsicle left in the box. It's from the last time Rin visited. Expired, but it'll do. Sae won't pay attention to it. It won't hurt. You rip off the packaging savoringly the sweetness and cold tingles that seem to bring life back into your body. For the first time, something doesn't taste like chalk. Stay quiet, Sae will wake up. 

"What do you think you're doing?"

Your eyes flick toward the direction of the voice where a dark figure is leaning against the wall. Sae is up. Each step adds to the lump in your throat. The ghostly fridge light illuminates part of him gradually until the displeasure that's written across his face is revealed. Tears began to prickle in your eyes and stream down.

"S-Sae, I'm—I'm so hungry," you sobbed, curling into a ball. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Shhh," Sae coos, using his thumb to swipe your tear away. You're still apologizing between each breath when he wipes the edges of your mouth that are smeared with ice cream. "I know, baby, I know. I know it's hard."

Sae never raises his voice at you. He's always so gentle and extra affectionate in moments of your vulnerability. He reaches for the ice cream pop you're gripping in your hand and takes it from your grasp. He licks the melting trail and finishes the treat in a couple of bites. You don't dare to look at the wooden stick that is the reminder of your late-night exploit. You wish you ate a bit faster.

Sae crouches to your level and waves the little stick in front of your face. "You're not a child. Snooping around late at night for things you know you're not supposed to eat? It's bad for you. Sweets have to be earned."

"Yes, I know," you whisper, ashamed, eyes fixated on the square tiled floors.You hear fabric rustling and soon bright light shines in your eyes. You see the latest picture of Rin and his girlfriend at the beach.

"It's tough love, but take a good look at her." Sae scrolls through a couple of their latest photos. "Look how skinny and sexy she is. See that collarbone? You can drink out of that. Now look at you."

His comments shatter you and you begin to sob. He stands up and continues, "If I wanted just any slutty bitch, I would have ten in my arms right now."

You know he is right. Women fawn over him whenever the two of you go out. At events or just on the streets. Even without his reputation as a football icon, Sae is a gorgeous man. 

You don't have anything left after meeting Sae. Your family and friends are left behind. Your schooling and your job are all set aside. If he doesn't want you anymore, what are you even worth? You panic. "I know Sae. I'm sorry, I'll do better. I swear." 

You really mean it, truly. You feel terrible. 

Sae’s voice softens. "You know why I still choose you out of all of the girls?"

You shake your head.

"Look at me."

You don't move.

"Look at me, baby."

He lifts your chin and your eyes fix on him. His teal eyes seem to glow.

"Because you're a good girl," he says firmly. So assured like it's the most obvious truth in the world. "You're a good girl, yes?"

You nod shakily. 

"You have to look good, so I also look good, understand? Say something." 

You nod again, biting back the tears that are trying to spill. But you manage to choke out a quiet 'yes'.

"When I'm good, we're," he gestures at the space between the two of you, "good. So, don't ruin this for us."

He hands you the popsicle stick. "If you make a mistake, you have to fix it. Then you have to learn from it. It's the same thing as football. I know it's hard, but I also know you can do it. Prove me right."

You crawl up to your feet and prepare to make your way to the bathroom. Except Sae stops you. "Do it here. You made your mistake here."

You take a deep breath and open your mouth. You take two fingers and try to reach the back of your throat. It's the first time you try to induce your gag reflex by yourself. Usually, you just throw up on time or Sae helps. You look towards Sae. He motions at the popsicle stick. So, you try again. This time, the birchwood presses on your tongue.

"That's it," he encourages, "keep going."

You feel the lurch. It comes in dry, just a wave of nausea. You stick the stick a bit deeper in your throat. This time the reaction is a bit more visceral. A few violent gurgles later, acidic cream spills out and splatters onto the floor. You hurl a few more times, just pure bile and some unidentifiable remnants of something. Tears blur your vision and the inside of your nostrils burn. 

"Now clean it up and think about what you did wrong."

You scramble up and limp over to kitchen towels to wipe up your mess.

"I...shouldn't have snuck out at night to...eat ice cream," you confess out loud. "I shouldn't have...eaten..."

"Good job," Sae compliments you, taking the soiled towels from you to throw away and handing you a glass of water and a capsule. "Now you'll never forget. Lessons are only useful if you'll get something out of them. I can see the change in you already."

This is the warm Sae that you love. His smile brings so much joy to you, especially when he is smiling because of you. You sip on the water, expertly swallowing the pill, and nod eagerly. "I'll lose more, Sae. I'll look pretty for you."

Sae smiles and pokes your cheeks. "That's my girl. It's for your own good too, you'll look very pretty when you can fit in the dresses I buy for you."

You bury the thoughts about the sharp pain in your chest and dull ache in your ankles. All that matter is Sae and his love for you. You can lose everything and anything but that.

#yandere blue lock #yandere sae #yandere blue lock x reader #yandere sae x reader #tw drugs #tw eating disorders #emi.freshtea #🍵.sae #tw yandere

[bontenten]

METAMORPHOSES 01 || A Zenin Wife

Pairings: Zenin Naoya x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader (unrequited) WC: 2.3k General Genre/Warnings: smut, noncon/dubcon, emotional/physical abuse, yandere, Naoya, sexism, arranged marriage, pregnancy, miscarriage, birth, lactation...it’s dark, and manga spoilers yupyup  Note: hi i’m back lol Series Masterlist 

The sun shone gently through the blanket of blooming cherry blossoms. You stepped out of the black limousine in your shiromuku. The pure white silks were embroidered with the most intricate patterns that glistened under the sunlight as you took small yet life-altering steps towards your husband, Zenin Naoya.

Murmurs could be heard from the small crowd of clansmen in awe of how beautiful the bride was, about how lucky the groom must be. Naoya stood near the main doors of the Zenin complex in a crisp, black hakama with the clan crest proudly on the back of the collar. You stopped your footsteps next to him and waited for the directions for the next part of the ceremony.

"You look very beautiful." 

His compliment wasn't out of place for a groom, but still caught you off guard at a loss for words. It didn't seem like something Naoya would say, and the gentle vibration of his voice certainly would've had you wondering if the man in front of you was an imposter. You stared at the palm of Naoya's hand, now extended to you, and then shifted your gaze to his encouraging expression. The moment Naoya felt your soft hands touch his palms, he enclosed his hand over yours. It was just like what he had imagined.

--   

It was around dusk when Naoya slowly stalked towards where Ogi's two twin daughters ran off to. It wasn't his choice to go out to fetch his very much insignificant younger cousins. What about their mother or the other servants? How did this menial task fall upon him, instead? Practically speaking, he was closest to where the girls had wandered off to, but the real reason was a cursed spirit on the loose that required the expertise of a Grade 1 sorcerer. If it weren't for the need to accumulate more merit points in order to successfully advance to Special Grade 1, Naoya couldn't be bothered if two useless girls were gone.

Meanwhile, you were also taking a walk in the vicinity, trying to get some air from the stuffy clan meeting. Your clan was meeting with the Gojos to discuss some of the increased security needed in one of the wards. It wasn't anything you were particularly interested in, considering that you had little cursed energy nor much talent with cursed weapons. The summer night was still warm as dusk stretched on for a long time. Past the tall grass where butterflies hovered, you saw two children huddled together in quiet sobs.

"Mai, don't cry. Don't cry." One of the girls was comforting her twin.

"Maki, I'm so scared," Mai bawled, burying her face in Maki's clothes. "It's right there! Maki!"

The child, Mai, pointed towards a grotesque figure hiding in the grass field. A cursed spirit. From the looks of it, it was far from weak. Despair rained out from its eyes in black globules as it wheezed out twisting, wiry words. WWhy? Whhhyyou do this? FfforrrrrWhat? AreArrreAre youHahhaappy nooow Hurrrtinggg? It looked as though the curse was crying over heartbreak, but your training told you that you should know better than to sympathize.

"Get out of here," you told them, placing yourself between their small, huddled figures and the source of threat. Realistically, this spirit was not something you could take on, but there wasn't any time left. Between you and the children, it had to be you. You had to do everything in your power to stall this spirit until they could get away.

"Mai. Maki. There you are, wenches," a harsh voice interrupted. It made you turn your head towards the owner of said voice. Before you could get a good look, he disappeared in a blur. By the time your senses came back, the cursed spirit was exorcised, and the man, who you now saw right in front of you, was looking at you with annoyance.

You blinked and gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Um. Thanks."

It seemed as though the frown on his face grew into a full scowl. "Did you think you could've defeated that spirit? You're not just weak, you're also stupid."

You bit the inside of your cheek and inhaled sharply. You had thought that politeness would be returned likewise, but you realized at the moment, that was just naivety on your part.

Mai and Maki bowed deeply to the man, who you later learned was called Zenin Naoya. Your clan already had entanglements with the Gojo clan, so you knew not to trifle with the Zenins—especially the son of the current clan head.

Naoya did not have a gentle personality. It sounded like a bad joke when you even put his name and "nice" in the same sentence. It didn't surprise you in the least when Mai and Maki held onto you tightly and were very reluctant to follow Naoya. At their request and your own desire to make sure the girls got home safely, you decided to go with them to the complex.

You chatted with Mai, who held onto your left hand, and Maki, who softly grasped your right. They seemed to be a lot shyer than other girls their age, but you found them to be so adorable. When Mai quietly called you "big sister," it made your heart loop around with joy. If you noticed the glaring judgment shooting daggers from behind you, you only ignored it.

Naoya was walking behind the three of you, observing your movements carefully. His eyes were fixated on your hands that seemed to cradle, gently and securely, Mai and Maki's much smaller ones. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from you at this point. A surprise attack? That would be stupid. A hostage situation? He'd just let you take the girls. It made his inwards twist uncomfortably seeing you beam happily when Maki told you about the cat she saw the other day. He scorned those who were feeble, but still wanted to play hero, taking care of people and whatnot. Weaklings should just keep their head down, but your head was held high and your laughter rang clearly in his ears like a summer wind chime. Disgusting.

When the four of you arrived at the Zenin clan's main entrance, Naoya relished that you were finally going to be gone. You were an uninvited pest, a guest that had no business in front of such a proud family's gates. He snapped at Mai and Maki to get back inside and go receive punishments for causing trouble. You looked troubled, peering through the main gate to look at the girls wandering in, offering that expression of worry and concern Naoya rolled his eyes at.

"Hey," he leaned against the side of the door frame, crossing his arms in front. "If you want to come inside so badly, you'd have to be a Zenin. I have yet to choose a bride."

A pleased grin stretched across his face when he saw bewilderment flash across yours, followed by a flustered expression that contorted into embarrassment.

"You flatter yourself too much," you muttered, before turning on your heels and briskly walking away.

So uncute. If he knew you were going to run so soon, he should have teased you a bit further, played around with your expressions for a while longer. Make it so that your knees would be so weak that running wasn’t even an option. Naoya watched your form grow smaller and disappear around the corner, before he closed the front gate and went back to his corner of the large clan complex, mood completely lifted. There were no challenges that he, Zenin Naoya, couldn’t overcome. Nothing that a bit of time, money, and power couldn’t achieve.

--

He finally got to hold your hand—today, tomorrow, forever. Naoya accepted the small cup from you and took the final sip of the shared wine. The ceremony was now over, and you were now a Zenin.

Celebrations continued far into the night. Your clan bestowed their final blessings on you before their departure. The other affiliated clans of the Zenins came to offer their congratulations and refortified inter-clan relations. As the new daughter-in-law in the main branch, your wedding would mark the beginning of your entrance into the web of clan politics and leadership. Everything you said, each time you bat your eyelashes, even an accidental side-eye would be interpreted and used. You and Naoya thanked every guest for their presence and saw them off, and finally you were joined by your husband in some privacy.

Naoya came out of the shower and took a seat next to you on the bed. The smell of his body wash still clung to his damp skin. He asked you how you were feeling and a few other questions about the events of the day. There were so many details, it all seemed fuzzy to you already.

"You know, when you finally accepted the proposal, it made me very pleased."

His admittance made you tense up momentarily, eyes meeting him in alarm, before you let your shoulders relax again.

"Do you love me?" Naoya asked, caressing your cheeks with the back of his hand.

Was it important? You thought it was all politics. Your gaze met his and bit back the tinge of guilt that threatened to crack on your face. Naoya’s eyes seemed to be filled with an emotion that you had yearned for another to grant you, but never did.

"I'm grateful for all you have done for my clan," you spoke carefully. For many years, even before your birth, the clan had been struggling to train its sorcerers and pass-on its special techniques. The situation never got better. Unprecedented casualties from dangerous curses plagued the wards your family watched over. Widespread panic and distrust ate away at the stability of the main branch. Partnerships with the Gojo never manifested and calls for help fell on deaf ears. There were talks of deposing your father and even the dissolution of the entire clan.

You were forbidden from leaving clan compounds for your own safety. But everything started to recover when Zenin Naoya paid a visit one day and graciously offered to assist. The newly appointed leader of the Zenin's Hei unit, youngest in its history, led successful raids and exorcisms in the majorly affected zones. It was thus only reasonable when the Zenins sent a marriage proposal to your clan that you would accept. It was only right that the clan-head's daughter devoted the remainder of her life to the man who saved her clan members. 

"Your clan used to be respectable enough yet generations of cowardice has made you all weak. But it doesn't matter. One day when I am clan head and you, the mother of my sons, the status of your clan will improve as well."

You were a bit taken back by Naoya’s ambition. His father was alive and well; unless Naobito truly had reason to surrender his position, it wouldn't be for many more years until the question of the next Zenin head would come up. Moreover Naoya had older brothers. And children. The thought that you would become the mother of his children—you were more surprised than offended by his harsh commentary about your clan.

"Don't be so scared of me, I am your husband and you are my wife. I will treat you well."

For such a dangerous man, his voice was soaked in honey. This was the man you scorned at during your first meeting and were now bound to. You held your breath as he cupped your face towards him, his eyes low and fixated on your softly parted lips. You grasped the fabric of his sleeves, steadying yourself when his presence washed over you, lips pressed against yours. Heat followed every inch of your skin that his fingers traveled over. His words and breath beckoned you to accept him in your entirety. Entangled within the faint smoky wisps of snuffed candles, two heartbeats chased one another.

"Finally a Zenin now...wife..."

You were still awake in the hours of early morning, unable to fall asleep. You glanced at the sleeping figure of your husband next to you. The arm slung over your waist and the rhythmic breathing reminded you of his existence every passing second. Your body felt so heavy, still tingling with fizzed out excitement from earlier. Naoya had coaxed out unimaginable sounds from you and peppered you with the sweetest praise. You wondered if you would get used to sharing a pillow with him—a life. 

The day your father had announced that he accepted a generous bridal gift from the Zenins, the first thought that fluttered across your mind was a man with hair white as winter’s first snow. Surely, you had foolishly thought, Gojo Satoru would stop you from becoming someone else’s bride. But all of the calls you had dialed only lead to his chirpy voicemail greeting. It was his larger-than-life energy that initially drew you in. It had really just been a one-sided, fevered dream of a young girl—a first crush, a naive pining love. You couldn't complain either. Satoru never promised anything. Maybe he hadn’t known how much his teasing grins pulled at your heartstrings, or how sweet the desserts he had brought back from his travels tasted to you when he snuck them to you at midnight. To the girl who grew up within the walls of her home, Gojo Satoru seemed like the world. But if his clan never answered yours, what made you think he would grant you any attention?

Your clan owed the Zenins. They were indebted to Naoya.

Faced with your current reality, you didn't know why Naoya seemed so fixated and intent on choosing you as his bride; after all, you were sure that there were plenty of other potential candidates. Growing up, you were constantly reminded of all of your shortcomings. Even on the day of your wedding, just this morning, your mother preached the virtues you must exhibit. But, Naoya chose you. You tucked yourself perfectly against him, taking in his scent. He promised that he would treat you well. You had an unwavering place, deep within his heart. Irreplaceable and exclusive. That thought made your heart swell.

#naoya x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya smut #tw naoya #emi.freshtea #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #yandere naoya #the ui here still sucks like the last time i remembered LOL

[bontenten]

Osmanthus Fever [桂花醉]

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi-gege x F!reader-meimei WC: 4.9k Tags/Warnings: smut, incest, noncon, drugging/aphrodisiacs, soft yandere-ish reader, virginity, corruption, sacrilegious, voyeurism, traditional gender norms, fiancee cucking, hints of breeding, Chinese historical au but reader not specific, kinda a satire, I guess a little angst?

Summary: You visit Kiyoomi the night before his wedding. 

A/N: You’re a little crazy, gege is niichan equiv...not to be confused with jjk gege, and ancestors be hurling in their grave...

You tiptoe through the dark hallways next to Peony Garden, trying not to look at the red banners and silk flowers that are hanging from the beams. The whole manor is quiet at this hour, resting before the biggest event of the Sakusa household—Kiyoomi's wedding. As you approach Kiyoomi's bedroom, you can see the candlelight still flickering behind the rice-paper windows.

"Who's there?" His voice is low and beautiful, with a distant quality that makes it all the more alluring.

"It's just me," you reply softly, heart beating furiously in your chest. You tightly grip the wooden handle on the box of desserts. Some shuffling later, the door squeaks open, revealing Sakusa Kiyoomi in his light-colored inner robes, hair loosely tied and falling around his shoulders. He peers around the courtyard and quickly pulls you inside, shutting the door close right after.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" he reprimands. "What if someone saw you sneaking around?"

"No one saw me! Everyone's asleep," you whisper while slowly bringing the box higher up into view. "Just wanted to bring you some desserts. I made them myself."

"Still, you're too rash. You've already pinned your hair years ago. You can't just come running to a man's room at night."

"But you're not just any man, Kiyoomi-gege."

"Already grown, but still so stubborn like a child." Sakusa sighs with a chuckle, combing a hand through his hair. You follow him deeper into the room to his study where numerous scrolls and books are stacked neatly off to a pile on the wood-carved table. The expensive wolf-hair and rabbit-hair brushes hang neatly on the brush stand. Sakusa smooths out a fresh sheet of paper and points at the inkwell. "Ink."

"Huh?"

He glances at you through a sheer curtain of his hair. "Since you're here already, at least do something."

"Oh!" You set the box down on the tea table off to the side and hurry back to the study. You roll your long sleeves up to begin grinding the inkstone. The slow circular movement of stone rubbing against wetted ink comes almost second nature to you now, after spending hours upon hours accompanying Sakusa in his study.

Sakusa Kiyoomi has always been a studious, talented grandson of the late Grand Chancellor Sakusa. He comes from an illustrious background: a father who is the Minister of Justice that oversees all of the Justice Bureau, a mother from the Komori clan of which the current empress dowager hails from, an aunt who is a favored concubine in the emperor's harem, and many other uncles and cousins also carrying official titles and positions.

As the sole heir from the main branch of the family, it's only natural that this lineage to uphold is a burdensome weight over Kiyoomi since his womb-days. With constant studying and endless lecturing, Sakusa grew up different from the pampered sons of other elite families.

"We owe all of our clan's prosperity to the throne. As servants of the Son of Heaven, it is our duty to remember our place and uphold our family's honor in loyal and earnest service." Grandfather often said this whenever the family gathered for meals. The first cup of wine always toasted the direction of the palace.

Even Kiyoomi's given name, sagely official servant, serves as a constant reminder that no matter how influential or big the clan gets, it will always be the servant to the throne. And the honor of hundreds of clansmen, ward, and servants rests on his shoulders.

Growing up, you were always scolded for disrupting Sakusa's study time. No matter what time of the day, he was always studying and studying. It felt cruel that he would be cooped up inside, so you often spent your time somewhere around his courtyard. He would watch you frolick under the peach blossoms or scurry around the snow-covered courtyard from his latticed window. If you met his gaze, you would smile brightly and wave, begging him to please come out and play. He would humor you, and then the others would find you. Then you were in trouble.

You weren't born from the same mother as Sakusa, but from a concubine who was brought in one day. There were even questions over your blood relation to the Sakusa lineage. But Kiyoomi never cared about that. He told you that only what was inside mattered. Character at the heart. Devotion in the soul. Loyalty. He treated you with kindness and love.

"Y/N?" Sakusa asks, breaking you out from your stupor.

You blink back to your senses in Sakusa's study and see the paper where all of his characters are neatly written out with black ink. You pause, finding yourself still mindlessly grinding the inkstone. "Ah, I made too much..."

"No worries, I never have enough," Sakusa says. "Standing must be tiring right? Do you want to sit?"

You roll the sleeves back down and sit down at the tea table. Carefully turning over two cups, you pour the osmanthus wine you brought. The action of pouring is also one you have done many, many times, but your hands begin to tremble no matter how much you calm yourself down. Thankfully, nothing spills. Even more thankful, that Sakusa doesn't notice anything abnormal. "Aren't you tired Kiyoomi-gege? It's your wedding tomorrow, yet you aren't even sleeping."

"I had some thoughts for this essay, that's all. I'll rest soon."

"I did bring some snacks for you, you know." You walk over to him and tug on the corner of his sleeve. "It took a lot of effort. If you wait, it'll all go to waste."

"Agreeable." Sakusa sets the brush down. "A break then."

You beam and reach for his hand. "All your favorites! It's all completely handmade by me. No one else helped."

You barely touch his skin when Sakusa folds his arms across his chest. Although a bit disheartened, you keep a lively smile on your face and open the box you prepared, taking out one dish after another. There's not a lot of each, but everything is a delicate bite-size with an assorted variety. You push one of them towards Sakusa who looks at the intricate design and then back at you.

"No one else handled it?"

"For you, how can I let anybody else touch it?"

Sakusa picks up a small flower-shaped pastry and takes a bite, savoring the subtle sweetness on his tongue. His tiny nods make your heart swell with pride as a smile blooms on your face. "It's good," he compliments.

"Try this too," you switch the plate for a different one.

Sakusa tries the dessert. "You have a talent for this. Whoever you marry will be very lucky."

Those words, coming out through Sakusa's mouth in his voice, are like a hammer knocking your mood down three ladders. A frown forms as you plop down on the seat next to him and rest your head on a supporting hand. "I only like making things for people I love. Like you."

"How lucky I am then, to have such a dear little sister," he comments, finishing the last bite. "You have to get married one day. He'll definitely be a gentleman. What about Waka—"

"No, I won't. I don't want to get married."

A look of understanding crosses Sakusa's face. His voice falls even lower, keeping the syllables in a hush. "Is there someone that—"

You sneak a glance at Sakusa before turning your burning face away. "There's no one!" you insist a bit too loud, a tad too fast.

"There is, isn't there?" He chuckles. "I wonder what sort of person would attract a picky girl like you. Tell me?"

How are you supposed to tell him? Can you tell him? Your eyes drift over to the two cups sitting quietly on the table, still untouched. Desire pounds within your body, a burning ache for the man who has your love unknowingly.

One of the cups moves.

"Is this the osmanthus wine you made last spring?" He swirls the contents and prepares to sample a taste.

"Wait!"

The cup pauses and is set down.

"Do you want to get married, Kiyoomi?" Your bright eyes search his neutral expression for a hint of dissatisfaction. Your hand tightly grips a bunch of skirt fabric. "Do you like her?"

"'Marriage is decided by one's parents and matchmaker'. For us from important families, it's even more so the case. Each marriage, every union, is for the benefit of the whole household."

"I know! But I'm asking if you like your bride. Can she make you happy? I don't care about rites or honor or any of that stuff. I only care about—I only want you to be happy..." You stammer through the words, careful to not let your secret slip. Your face leans close to his, close enough that you can see his features clearly in the dimly lit room. "You haven't even met her, right?"

"She's Komori's sister, Mother's niece. I'm sure she's a very proper lady." Sakusa looks away. "Feelings can grow after," he says simply.

So, he doesn't like her, you conclude, sitting back down. Of course, he does not, he hasn't even met her yet. She's supposed to be the same age as you, but because of her family, her different yet powerful surname, she can have a position that you will never have. That thought irritates you immensely. It angers you so much. You have never felt such intense hatred for a sister you have never seen.

She wouldn't know what Kiyoomi likes: the consistency of the ink he writes with, how he likes his clothes laundered and folded, how he likes his food. Not even the servants of the Sakusa household know better than you. Only you. Only ever you.

But no matter how much you dream or pine, hiding your feelings between embroidered threads or wrapped pastries, the Sakusa name keeping you close to Kiyoomi is also what pushes you two apart. It's an injustice that you have no one else to seek help from. That's also why...why you're here at this moment. Tonight.

"Ah! Chuu~" Kiyoomi would hate this, you alarm, panic rising to your chest. You turn quickly to apologize to him, only to see worry in his face and the handkerchief he extends out to you. He holds you in his gaze, at the center. He looks at you tenderly. With love.

"Did you catch a cold? You are wearing too little on the way here at night." Sakusa frowns at the few layers of silk you're wearing. Not even a long overcoat in sight.

You accept the square fabric and soon find that the motif embroidered on the corner is familiar. Your heart stirs, beating against your chest. Your breath hitches and the corners of your lips tug upwards.

"I keep all of the ones you make for me," he explains, a faint smile warming his face. You're like the first morning light on the pine leaves. Clear and unsullied, with your emotions written clearly on your face. It's easy to make you happy.

"You say that anyone would be lucky to have me as their bride. What if I were your bride?" You mean it. Wholeheartedly, you offer yourself to him: for judgement, for acceptance.

Sakusa laughs, hiding his grin behind the sleeves of his white robes. "What a foolish girl."

But you're not foolish, you want to say. Not a girl, but a woman in her adult years, you want to argue. Sakusa continues after his laughter. "I'm your brother and we share the same last name. Nothing's going to change, meimei, I'm still living here and you'll see me tomorrow. And tomorrow's tomorrow. Rather, it's you, who'll one day leave this place to marry away."

Again, with his instance that you'll marry away one day. It's like a test, a bait for you to test your faith. You smile sweetly and let a soft giggle fill the space. "I'm just teasing. I know I'm not your bride, gege. Then, a toast—" you pick up both cups and hold one out to Sakusa "—for your marital bliss."

Sakusa accepts the cup from you. "I thought you were too stingy earlier to let me try."

"Not at all!"

Clink.

The osmanthus wine is sweet, smoothly rushing down your throat. It's stronger than you expect, already warming your body.

"It's good." Sakusa compliments, turning the cup in between his long fingers. You don't know if he's talking about the wine or the ceramic, but your mind is becoming airy. Sakusa's pale skin is starting to flush a visible pink.

"It's...strong," he says with a frown, then presses down on the table to stand up. "I...I—water..."

You leap up from your seat, the wooden stool knocking over onto the floor. "Kiyoomi-gege," you mutter softly, courage overtaking your body as your arm wraps around his waist. The sides of your face press against his broad and strong back. You can feel his body warmth and the shape of his muscles under the thin garment. "My heart is with you. My feelings for you, I—"

"You're crazy," he snaps sharply, hands prying at your embrace around him. Sakusa's body begins to react to your struggling squirms to hold on. He's not sure how much you have dosed the cup, how long or how strong this drug will last. All he knows is that he must have you leave, sooner the better. Or, he must hurry away before an irreversible mistake is truly made.

Sakusa grunts and shoves you away with all the strength he can muster in this compromised state. He stumbles through the room, knocking into the tables and pushing over the stacks of books carefully organized on the shelves. Sakusa's body is burning, sweat rolling down his back, and his clothes feel uncomfortably tight. He's ten steps from the door when your fragrance suddenly wafts in front, saccharine sweetness washing into his mind and body. Soft hands and a warmth press against his chest. You call out his name, rolling over the syllables silkily.

"Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi."

"N-No," he mumbles, pushing away blindly, his palms touching a plush softness. "Leave, hurry. Leave!"

Sakusa mentally recites all of the texts he has ever studied, running through the lines of each of the classics. Faithfulness, sincerity. The first principles....Principles...

The dim candle light flickers, casting a shaking glow on your face. Your lips, soft and subtle under the light, are inviting like candied dew drops. They come closer, faint on the corner of his quiet pants. He turns his head away, but you chase him, searching for his contours.

Be set on virtue, no practice of wickedness... A gentleman must...

Cascading beaded curtains swing into one another.

"No," Sakusa mutters, trying to lean away from the perfumed body of yours, but he falls back onto silk bedding instead. His lips feel dry and parched. His blood boils and rushes below his waist.

"Have you taken a bedchamber maid before, Kiyoomi?" you ask, tugging at the ties of his waistband. His erection is hot, pressing against the fabric. "Did you like Spring Plum?"

Spring Plum was three years older than Sakusa, intended as a maid who stayed with him most intimately in his study and bedroom. During the day, she would organize the books for him and at night, assist him for rest. You seethed and fumed. A lady shall not harbor jealousy. But the harlot spilled filthy lies about your dearest Kiyoomi to the other maids and tainted the righteous family name. You sold her straight to the street brothels of the last district.

"Spring Plum... I never touched her..." Sakusa admits. She was removed before anything happened, to his knowledge, and no more female attendants surrounded him after. He's untouched. Not ignorant to the bedchamber, but...

He's not sure why he's telling you this as if he owes you as an explanation. At this point, he's not sure why despite the way your hands writhe across his body, he won't move. It's the drug that is blurring your image in his mind, clouding everything and pulling at his carnal desires. He struggles against it, slipping into an insatiable burn that needs to be quenched. It's the drug.

You giggle. "It doesn't matter gege. I was just curious!"

Shaky, but not unsure. Shy, but also bold at the same time, you loosen his trousers, and his cock springs free. A tiny gasp slips out in admiration of how beautifully shaped he is. Veins decorate the girth in perfection, and a glistening red tip rivals the flush across Sakusa's face. Your fingers snake around his skin, wrapping around his hardened length as though you are holding a scroll in a library. The grip is firm and slippery, twisting and gently pulling on his skin in a slow, desirable motion.

Sakusa's face scrunches, mouth falling open into a shuddering breath. "Wha—"

You kneel at the edge of the bed frame, huddled at the base of between his legs. The last layer of silk covering your shoulder is shrugged off. Sakusa's hands dig into bedding, brows furrowed in both shock, denial, and curiosity. With your lashes fluttering down, soft lips pursed and moist, your head lowers and lowers.

Sakusa groans at how your lips welcome his tip, a devious tongue carefully licking and lapping at his sensitivities. Teasing, like you are trying a new dessert on the hottest day of summer. You don't lap fast enough; juices, leaking from his tip or your mouth mixes and runs down.

Your head bobs gently, smoothly picking a tranquil pace. The taste of Sakusa penetrates your throat, fills your nose and mind. You want him so badly. Selfishly. You swallow and take all of him like a rare treat to be hidden underneath your tongue until he melts.

Should the people be led by laws, and uniformity be given by punishments, they will try to avoid the punishment, but have no sense of shame.

Sakusa's eyes snap open. "Slow, slow down!" he urges between his moans. "I'm gonna—"

You pull away while your hands still rub his heavy, swollen balls. A glistening thread connects from your lips to him. The ache from the edge without release punishes him for pushing you away. But he can't dirty you further, emptying himself into your mouth like a chamber pot. Your eyes grin and you show him a teasing smile, that he can't fully process, before dipping down again, taking his length as much as you can, until the tip prods against the back of your throat, rubbing against the flesh folds inside. The patch of his dark curls presses into your nose, filling it with the heavy scent of Kiyoomi. Only a few moments later, Sakusa trembles, knees jerking as his hips buck into your mouth, cock twitching out spurts.

Sakusa scrambles to sit up in fright, fighting against his dizziness and heavy body. He grabs the pile of fabrics next to him. "Spit it out," he orders, holding the bundle next to your puffy, cum-filled cheeks.

Kiyoomi-gege's cum is so thick, you think as you swallow the sticky load down in two gulps. The slightly bitter and salty taste lingers on your tongue and breath as you open your mouth to show him. "Gege, you taste so good," you chirp happily running a finger down your chest to your belly. "W-Want more. I want all of you, Kiyoomi."

Sakusa's vision is still blurry, blood pumping furiously in his veins. He's not sure how the wine can still be having an effect like this. It feels even more potent after a taste of release, his balls feel heavy and hot once again. He struggles to tear his eyes away from your body—naked, except for the silk covering over your front, that is doing little to hide your nipples poking through the intricate embroidery.

"You must want to ask me, how I know about the bedchamber," you begin while reaching for the ties behind your neck and tugging the knot loose. "It was just an accident at first." The fabric slips down to reveal your breasts. "I found Jade and Amethyst giggling in the corner of the back storage one day. They were reading a book they found in my dowry chest."

You were aware of activities behind the bedchamber curtains, but before that day, you didn't know the intricacies behind such acts. One glance at the forbidden book, the twisted limbs, and exposed skin made your face burn. The book was meant to help you learn how to please your husband on your wedding night and henceforth. An experienced maid would have instructed you the day before, teaching you the points of pleasure, and all of the lewd positions that would ensure you birth him a healthy son.

You would come to know of it anyway, but it wasn't supposed to be that day. It was a crime for lowly maids to touch their lady's dowry, much less sully a pure maiden's eyes with such material prematurely. Jade and Amethyst begged and sobbed for you not to turn them over to Mother. You hid the book in your sleeve and told them to dry their tears. You told them that you wouldn't turn them in under a single condition. Bring me more of these. I want the ones that the Flowers read.

It was embarrassing at first, seeing the lines forming that of a man. The shape stuck out so obnoxiously and almost seemed frightening. But you grew curious and wondered if Sakusa, your Kiyoomi, would look like the crude model on the page or something more. Kiyoomi was beautiful. You saw that he was; the fifth tile in the bathhouse had a hole. He was mysterious, covered by the curtains of steam like a god, but you saw him.

You muffled your cries into your pillow and stuffed a handkerchief into your mouth as your body twitched and shook under the covers. In all of your thoughts: Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi, with his smooth skin dotted with constellations and the shape of his erection fitting into all of your hunger.

"I dream of you," you whisper to Sakusa, climbing on top of him, body bare and complete. Sakusa inhales sharply. The curves from your neck down to the nipples, perked and erect, sear into his mind even with his eyes closed. He can't recall anything the Master had said after all. What about virtue and piety and morals? At this point, does he deserve to?

"Look how much I pine for you. My body..." You grasp Sakusa's hand and press the large palm over your breast. "Earlier, you touched me over fabric, but it feels so much better when it's your skin on mine." Sakusa doesn't fight off your grip, too weak to move. Your identity is muddled in his head. Your name and Spring Plum's twist into confusion. What is correct? What is not? He can't recall any books that have taught him what to do.

He falls into darkness for a moment and wakes up to aching desires burning through his body. His fingers are dragged down your navel. They slip under and it's a puddle of wet. You squirm and rub your sensitive bud onto his thick, trembling fingers. "You know? You know? When I close my eyes? It's you."

You caress his cheeks, hot breath laced blowing onto his face. "I want you so badly." I want to be the woman by your side, to make you happy, give you a son. "I know it's impossible, but just for tonight." Pretend that I am Spring Plum instead, if you must.

Your lips press onto his, roaming into his softness; dipping your tongue in, the shared osmanthus sweetness mix. Just tonight, you savor.

With knees straddling his hips, you line your wet folds against his throbbing member. Your eyes flicker with anticipation from his glazed eyes and flushed face to the point of union. Arousal dripping from your sex coats his tip as you sink yourself down. Your short pants mix with his shuddering breaths. "Kiyo-omi," you whine, pressing closer. "S-So big—"

Sakusa grunts loudly, face twisting at how impossibly tight you feel around him. He's so sensitive with you continuously squeezing around him with every breath. He glances feverishly at your scrunched face, eyes shut and focused on taking all of him into your body, trying hard and desperate.

"Ooh!" You feel hands gripping onto the soft rounds of your buttocks and squeal in surprise, jolting around and suddenly Sakusa's completely bottomed into you. "Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi," you whisper shakily. Your body trembles as you wait out the stinging stretch. "I'm...I'm not your bride. But—" you feel so happy "—let me, let me show you..."

Your hands rest on Sakusa's stomach as you raise your hips and sink down again. Slowly, you ride him, movements bolder and falling into a steady rhythm. Your hips roll against his, breast bouncing in view.

The temptation of warm paradise lulls him away. Sakusa's mind falls blank, forgetting his books, abandoning his teachings, forsaking the family name. His fingers grab at your soft thighs. His unrestrained moans are a higher register than his speaking tone, you find, freely falling and open. It encourages you to grind harder and chase those pretty sounds that reward you. You can feel him against your tight walls, prodding deep within. Your mewls answer back to him.

The candles in the room burn out completely, unattended wax dripping and hardening over the bronze holsters. Books are tossed and folded across the floor, scrolls unraveled and scattered. Hardly any semblance of virtue remains evident in the scholarly space belonging to the heir of this upright family. Heavy pants and wet squelches of smacking skin mock the rest of the room. Only the wooden door, latticed and covered with rice paper, guard the twisting of two bodies from the sacred courtyard...Hiding all noises of sin and immorality from the empty ancestral halls.

You take Sakusa's hand and guide it to your clit, squealing when his thumb brushes against the nub. "T-To pleasure your bride, you should...touch her here. Ah- yes! Kiyoomi, m-more!"

Sakusa falls drunk on how your pussy flutters around him and the string of moans sweetly begging his name each time he rubs your clit.

He's drunk. He's mad.

"K-Kiyoomi! I'm cumming—" you cry out, collapsing on top of Sakusa, arms encircling him tightly. Shudders wash through. Your pussy tightly squeezes around him. Sakusa's vision flashes white, arms wrapping your body flush over his. Ceaseless whimpers sound next to your ear.

"P-Please. Please. I—" He trembles, quivering as his release shoots into you uncontrollably.

And then it's quiet. Save for the heavy breaths that are exchanged between you and him. When you come down from your high, vision clearing in the dark, you notice that Sakusa has fallen straight into sleep. You lay across his chest, breasts pressed up against him.

His cock is still resting within you, keeping his essence safely plugged. You hold him there. Sakusa's long lashes fan down between his eyelids. His features, the most beautiful you have ever seen. You admire how his pretty hair is spread out on the bed in long, dark tresses and tuck your head comfortably in the space between his head and shoulder. Sakusa often wears his neatly combed and tied up in a gentleman's topknot. Only during the rare nights and mornings when Sakusa's in his privacy, does he allow them to rest completely free. You comb your fingers through the silky texture, fine curls softly falling in cascades.

Within his arms, even if by your design, you sleep as one.

As dawn approaches, the sun washes over the grey tiles covering the curved rooftops of a righteous and proud household. Servants scurry about in the early hours finishing the preparation for the most important event. Under sunlight, the red silk flowers and banners decorating the courtyards glow brighter than a virgin's first blood. A maid knocks on a closed, latticed door.

"Young Master, it's Emerald. The Madame asked me to assist you to wash up."

She hears nothing granting her permission to enter and knocks again. Still silence.

The maid carefully balances the bronze basin filled with water on her hip. "Young Master, it's Emerald. Please excuse me," she says while pushing open the door. She's attentive to step over the high, wooden doorstep.

The room's messy status comes as an initial shock, but her hold on the basin remains steadfast. It's unheard of for the young master to ever leave his room in this state, although it's nothing a careful cleaning can't fix. She walks further into the room where Sakusa's bed is, keeping her head low in deference.

"Young Master Sakusa. Please pardon my intrusion." Her voice is proper and demure. "The Madame asked me to assist."

Still answered with silence at the bed, Emerald cautiously glances up, gaze meeting your eyes. She gasps, both hands clamping over her mouth to muffle her surprise. The basin clambers onto the floor, spilling water everywhere.

You smile coyly at her, pressing a finger over your lips in a hush. Don't ask, don't tell. You're still bare, limbs twisted with Sakusa Kiyoomi. Sakusa Kiyoomi, who's the grandson of the late Grand Chancellor of this dynasty, sole heir of this moral and upright family. Your brother, and today's groom.

#sakusa x reader smut #sakusa smut #haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #tw:incest #tw noncon #tw yandere #tw virginity #tw drugging #tw sacrilegious #tw manipulation #🍵.sakusa #emi.freshtea #omgggggggg if y'all have q's about like really technical historical or lit-y stuff feel free to drop an ask i'll do my best to answrrrr #the IRONY thooooughhh hehee of WHO sakusa is marrying and hehehe the POSSIBILITY of reader well hehehe #i find it hilarious but maybe it's just me XD

[bontenten]

Cry For Me

Pairing: Mikey-nii x f!reader

WC: 1k

Tags/Warnings: smut, noncon, incest, drugs/alcohol, self-harm, grief, choking, violence, dacryphilia, breeding/creampies, suicidal thoughts, major manga spoilers, Bonten timeline

A/N: Thanks to @kokoslurp​ for putting this idea in my head and letting me just run with it. Bless your brain and Koko's slutty tongue. Keep slurping.

Your eyes snap open to the loud noise coming from outside your door. Something crashes onto the floor followed by a series of screams, each more hysterical than one before. You tip-toe carefully down the dark hallway until you come to a stop outside your older brother Mikey's room. It's quiet in there when you hesitantly push the door open.

"Mikey!" you yell, rushing into the room, ignoring the shattered glass on the ground that threatens to pierce your bare feet. You kneel down in front of Mikey's hunched figure and clutch the bloody wrist where he had clawed deep marks into.

"Mikey-nii, that's enough," you choke out, feeling the red liquid oozing onto your hand. "Please don't hurt yourself. Shinichro-nii is gone, Izana-nii is gone...Emma-neechan is gone too."

"Shinichiro-nii is at the shop...." he mumbles to himself. "Izana is still...Emma...Emma is Emma is..."

"They're all gone! It's been years already! Please, Mikey-nii, I can't lose you too."

Mikey's shoulder begins to tremble, his breaths shaky and wheezing. His eyes are glazed over, bloodshot, as another roar rips through his throat. He breaks from your grasp and suddenly stands up, glaring at your crumbled figure at his feet.

"Mikey? Nii-chan..ahh..." Hands clasp around your throat, forcing you to stand with the grip. "It's me..." Your little sister. The only family you have left, Mikey-niichan.

The air is thick and heavy with sweet smoke. He shoves you onto the mattress, the impact against the dusty pillows knocking the wind out from you. Your cough disturbs the grey wisps that are floating through the dark space.

"What are you," you ask, half-sitting up on the bed, dizzy from the inhaled chemicals rushing to fill your brain. You see your brother shirtless, blood still trailing down his arm, coming closer, closer. He's on top of you, eyes blank, pupils dilated, a hand tilting your chin towards him.

"Mikey-nii?" you ask, soft lips parted and inviting.

Your relaxation suddenly erupts into a wild urgency. Your whole body convulses at the lips pressed on yours and the tongue that forced its ways into your mouth. Mikey tastes bitter, he tastes sweet. All of his anger, his grief, and desperation.

He grabs you tightly, hands pulling the loose buttons of your nightgown apart. Your legs kick out in vain under the heavy body pressing on top. Each futile struggle only gives him more access to expose your skin under his fingertips.

"Don't fight me, baby sister. I only have you now." Mikey suckles on your bottom lips, muttering, "You only have me now. They're all dead..."

His knee forces your legs apart. His hands gripping your wrists together over your head. Your violent headshakes and sobs for him to stop are unheard. Cries for your brother to come back to his senses melt into translucent silk threads pulling him closer, beckoning him to entangle himself in your fragrance and warmth.

"No! Please! No! No!" Tears stream down your face as you cry out when Mikey's cock pushes into your pussy, tearing through you. He bottoms out in a groan while you tremble and shiver from the intrusion. Then he begins to rock his hips in and out messily, heavy pants blowing on the shell of your ear.

The squeaks of the mattress frame and clap of skin against skin sound in the room filled with powders and smoke. The ceiling spins, your throat becoming itchy and dry. Thirst overcomes your body and you float weightless.

Your fights to push him off break apart. Efforts to call back reason to your brother who looks lost and mad fade into seductive mewls. Each time he presses your g-spot, hips grinding against yours, your sobs morph into moans.

"Nngg—n-no. Niichan, no—ahh—"

The dirty euphoria that is building suddenly stops. Mikey pauses, his cock still completely buried within your tight walls. You almost think that this nightmare will end now, because your big brother is finally back. It's just a mistake, a slip-up in search of comfort. You'll forget it, he'll move on, and none of this will have happened.

Suddenly Mikey smiles, a quiet snort slipping out of his mouth. A frown appears on his face. "Don't you want them back? Shinichiro...Izana...Emma...Shinichiro...Izana..Emma..."

You shake your head softly. "No, Mikey-nii. They're dead already...they can't come back..."

"They'll come back. I'll bring them back," he snarls, eyes glaring at your frightened form under him. A crazed expression locks eyes with your lost, pleading one. He chuckles, smearing the remnants of the blood on his wrist over your cheeks, delighting at the new tears prickling at your waterline. It's so precious, so beautiful, and pure.

"Mikey-nii, please..."

Claws snatch your throat, squeezing tighter than ever. Your hands fly down to pull on the grip.

"I WANT THEM BACK! GIVE. THEM. BACK. TO. ME!" Mikey bellows, shaking your head into the pillows. Your choking wheezes are swallowed completely by his shouts. He pounds into you, ramming his cock against your g-spot over and over again. Your cheeks burn, needles shooting through your head. The dark seems to fade into a fuzzy glitter. He fucks you mad in anger, completely possessed by the devils of grief, sprinting in rage until he claps himself balls deep against you and spurts his cum to coat your walls.

Two heaving breaths sound in the dark. The air is musky with sex and salty with tears. But the demon is exorcised, leaving only the quiet aftermath of bodies fitted together.

"G-Give them back," Mikey croaks out, cradling your face between his palms. He presses a kiss along your jaw. "We'll get them back..."

Your weak breathy cries and broken rasps echo softly next to Mikey's ears, body still twitching from being defiled and abused. You can feel a thick fluid leaking out from your hole and wet drops on your collarbone. The trail of tears that flowed out from your eyes are now two dried streaks. Mikey groans, tongue slipping out the lick the salty marks. You would answer him, if you can still answer coherently at all. Unable to get an answer from you, high washing over him, Mikey relaxes over your body, head tucked between your neck and shoulder.

When I die, baby sister, will you cry for me too?

#mikey x reader smut #tokyo revengers smut #mikey smut #tokyorev smut #tokyorev dc #tokyo revengers spoilers #tokyorev spoilers #emi.tr #emi.freshtea #🍵.mikey #I can’t believe the way this blog goes multifandom is with Mikey... damnit Baji where art thou. Rip Naoya wip #Mitsuya???? is that you bb calling for me??? #lmao anon who asked me about wips today #this fic wasn't planned AT ALLLLL #i just my brain went bzzzed and it happened #ahahahahahahaha #tw noncon #tw:incest #tw blood #tw violence #tw drugs #tw alcohol

[bontenten]

Gently 

Pairing: Kageyama Tobio x Onee-san Reader 

Tags/Warnings: smut, incest(little bro Tobio), dubcon, feet, watersports, mention of alcohol and one line of blood

Kageyama winces when you press a wet cloth on his wound. Your face is just inches from his as you treat him with utmost attention and care. Kageyama grumbles and shoves your hand away. 

"It's not that bad, just a scratch. That bastard has nothing on me."

You grip his chin and make him turn to look at you. "Just a scratch? Really, come on now, stop whining like a baby. You'll get an infection if it's not dressed. Sit tight." You blow gently on the wound. "It'll only hurt for a moment."

Kageyama pushes your hand away again and circles your wrist instead, holding it in place while giving you an unamused stare.

"Tobio," you begin in the stern voice that Kageyama hates.

"You need to stop treating me like a little boy,” he says bluntly. “I'm not a boy anymore." 

You resist the urge to laugh in front of his serious face. "So you're a man now?" 

"Well, yea." 

"Legally speaking, sure. But you'll always be my little brother though," you say light-hearted, reaching with the other hand to give his hair a ruffle. Your hands barely run through his hair when Kageyama grabs that wrist too, cuffing both of them in his hold. “What can you do.”

"Today, I protected you." 

"That you did, Tobio. And I'm still sorry that you got hurt." Your try to roll the conversation along and get back to the point. "So let's get you fixed up.”

"For all your smarts, onee-san, you're so stupid," Kageyama mumbles before tugging on your wrists to pull you forward and capture your lips with his. So stupid, he thinks, that you didn’t even realize that guy was trying to make dangerous moves on you.

You eyes widen at the presence on your lips belonging to the boy who used to rub his snot and cry when he scrapes his knee. It's not right. You twist your head to the side and leave the profile of your hair in Kageyama's face, the residual metallic taste of his blood burning on your tongue. "What are you doing?!" you hiss. "Are you crazy?"

"Yea, I am. I'm so fucking crazy about you. You have no idea, onee-san.”

You stare at him in disbelief, letting his words soak in. Your eyes dart between his fixated gaze and lips that are smudged with your lipstick. He senses your eyes are drifting, cups your face, and dips close again. Your breath comes out in soft, shaky puffs. Kageyama can still taste the lingering burn of alcohol on his tongue, but feels your body relax against his and accept his touches. His large hands gripping your wrist loosens and rests on your waist.

You feel his tongue lick a stripe up your neck and suckle on the flesh as he trails down towards your collarbone. The tiny noises from you don’t escape Kageyama’s ears as his movements becoming messy and rough. He scoops from under, hoisting you up so your legs are around his hips. You yelp, feeling a sharp pain shoot through your foot and knee. The loud sound of impact against ceramic and your “Ow!” sounding in the bathroom.

You wrap your arms around Kageyama’s neck tightly as he stumbles to your bed. He throws you down onto the mattress then pulls his shirt over his head in a swift motion. You take a few deep breaths and inhale the smell of your freshly laundered sheets. A few belt clicks later, you find Kageyama kneeling at the end of the bed, about to stalk over.

“Hmph,” you frown, poking a throbbing toe at his forehead. “Tobio. You have to be gentler when you’re with a woman. See?” You wiggle your toe slightly to make a point. “Because you’re so rough.”

A look of revelation overcomes Kageyama’s face, the same way he suddenly realizes the secret to an incredible volleyball technique. He cradles your foot, a hand supporting the arch and the other brushing over your toes. 

You look confused at his movements and try to pull your foot away. "What are you-ngh—"

Kageyama brushes his lips across the pads, dragging them over the small ridges of each toe before kissing the spot where the pain is pulsating. His tongue darts out to lick the skin, increasingly confident and assertive, sucking and swirling around each of the toes.

"Tobio, it's dirty, Tobio!" you cry out in embarassment, arms crossed over your face to hide your burning cheeks. None of your squirms can stop his fixation. 

"Not hurting anymore right?" he suggests, a hand beginning to knead the another sore spot right next to the kneecap. "I'm sorry, I wasn't careful enough.” He kisses the spot. “I'll be gentle, onee-san. I didn't know you were this fragile."

Kageyama reminds himself, with every little movement he makes, to be gentle, gentle, and even gentler. Light touches, careful touches. He doesn’t want you to think that he can’t do a good job, that this is just a sloppy, juvenile joke. But it’s so damn difficult!

The ripples of the bedsheets under you are like a watery sea where you are a siren. The soft moans that come out of your lips when your legs stretch out on the bunching fabric, the way your head turns on the pillow and you look at him through your blown pupils...Upon the first glance at your body, breasts bare under his eyes, nipples pebbled, Kageyama thinks he’s about to lose it. He almost can’t let his eyes wander further down beyond your navel out of fear he’ll spurt immediately.

It’s your hands that tug on his, quiet chuckles vibrating, and you ask him, “Ah, Tobio-kun, are you shy now?”

Kageyama’s face grows dark at the challenge. “Tch. I will make you regret saying that.” His large hands pushes your thighs open and he laughs at the sight of your drenched pussy. “Onee-san, you’re so lewd,” he comments before pressing his fingers onto your clit, stroking the bud while holding your squirming hips down firmly. “I think I’m done being gentle now. See, you’re more than ready for my cock.”

“Wait, Tobio, I—” You gasp, feeling Kageyama’s cock press into the entrance of your pussy, sinking deeper and deeper into your muscles. You feel the stretch of your body wrapping around him. “Go slowly!”

“Shit,” Kageyama mutters, clamping his fingers down on your flesh and bottoms himself into you completely. He groans, focusing his senses on how tight and real you feel around him. Not the makeshift grip of calloused fingers, not any random cunts. The thought makes his knees weak.

Kageyama shoves your legs up until your knees are pressed near your chin, calves resting over his broad shoulders. His fingers dig into your soft flesh as he begins to rock into you. Each time, he bottoms out with a wet squelch, balls slapping against your ass in soft thuds.

Kageyama fucks you mercilessly, all semblance of his thoughts to be gentle completly swept out by his feral desires.

 “No more, no more..ah—I can’t!” you cry out.

It only encourages Kageyama further as he further tunnels into chasing his pleasure with every crying moan when you are pushed into the sheets, pounded into the mattress by his weight and strength. You can feel fast building warmth in your belly growing intensely, nearing eruption.

“No, no, no stop! Tobio!” you warn him, nails digging into his scalp and back. “I’ll make a mess...the sheets, I just—”

Kageyama doesn’t stop. His rough hands find your clit again, furiously tapping and rubbing the sensitive bud. You tremble and jerk around under the onslaught of sensations that shock your body.

"I'll do the chores...wash the sheets again. J-Just. Come.” 

As though on command, the moment the syllables fall from Kageyama’s lips, you completely unfurl in a sob, orgasm crashing through your body as you spray all over him and soak the entire bedding with your piss.

Your heavy breaths press your breasts against Kageyama’s chest while his cock is still resting in you. The sheets are drenched. You can feel the wetness against your ass as more mixed fluids leak out from your pussy.

“T-Tobio,” you pant out, completely exhausted.

Kageyama is extremely pleased with how you look. He leans into your hand smoothing out the dark hair that is matted aginst his forehead in sweat. After basking against you a while, cuddling between the smell of sweat, sex, and piss, Kageyama rolls off and gets up from the bed.

Your eyes follow his perfectly chiseled body, landing on the angry red marks from your scratches. Kageyama turns back to you and flashes a wolfish grin. “Onee-san, you’re the wild one. Take responsibility.”

Your tender look immediately morphs into a disgusted frown.

Kageyama chuckles and picks you up from the dirty sheets, gently carrying you over to the bathroom. He’s careful around turns and doorways, paying attention so your feet or shoulders don’t knock into anything. So, he does learn, you think to yourself, relaxing against his chest.

#kageyama smut #kageyama x reader smut #kageyama tobio smut #hq smut #haikyuu smut #kageyama #tw:incest #tw dubcon #tw feet #tw:watersports #🍵.kageyama #emi.freshtea #i can't believe i wrote a serious smut for a karsuNO wtf is happening #i said today but uhhh yea i'll operate on hawaii time so HAH it's still TODAY

[bontenten]

Bewitch

Pairings: Osamu x F!Reader x Atsumu; Miyacest WC: 7.4k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairytale retelling (Hansel and Gretel), magic au, dubcon/noncon, incest (miyacest), fear, knife, monster, bondage, snuff, vore, gore/blood, object insertion, body horror, a bit of size, tummy bulge, oral (m.receiving), anal (m. receiving), masturbation (f. & m.), voyeurism, arson...

Summary: The unexpected guests at your cottage have a mysterious past and hidden agenda. Will they allow you to accompany them on their journey?

Travelers are advised not to spend the night in the Dark Woods. It's said that beyond the last hiking trail, past a brook, lives an Evil Witch. That witch is vile and merciless; often, fools lost in the woods are never seen again. It's said that she must be over 800 years old, feeding off of the essences of children and young men unfortunate enough to cross her paths. It’s said that she even eats fellow witches. No one really knows. After all, no one who has seen her has lived to tell the tale.

It's been a few months since your teacher has left you to fend for yourself here in the woods—your first time alone during this apprenticeship. She said she had to attend a big conference with a whole bunch of other grand witches. You asked if you could tag along, but she insisted that you stay and watch the cottage. The lack of company is about to drive you insane so you often resort to conversing with yourself or the forest itself.

The soft moss muffles the sound of your footsteps as you begin the trek back home, a faint off-trail path away from the main road that no one else would usually notice. On any other day, you would just go home without a fuss, but loneliness makes people do some bizarre and odd things. For instance, the desperate longing for companionship leads to you dropping a not-so-hidden trail of fancy pebbles to inadvertently lead someone to your abode.

For most travelers, going off-trail is akin to a death sentence as any wrong turn might lure them into the forest's deadly maze. Not for you though, you know this place very well: every fallen tree, overturned log, the wanted signs nailed to the trunk...

Wait. A wanted sign?

You can make out from your distance that there are two heads on it, but the details are fuzzy, and the bounty looks smudged. Before you can get a closer look, you hear the birds caw in the trees, signaling the beginning of sunset. You pull your attention away from the poster and continue on to your way home.

The cottage is extremely cozy and warm. The windows are bejeweled and the door is solid wood. You live here comfortably with your teacher, after all, learning about the principles of magic and what it means to be a witch. It's much more than curses and spells, as your teacher would tell you, witches have character and a moral compass. Although there are certainly those who decide to experiment with the darker arts.

While you get a fire going in the huge furnace and boil some water on the stovetop, you hear two voices squabbling outside followed by three raps on the door. You're stunned by the noise, turning to face the shut door wondering if you were just dreaming about the noise. Is it? Visitors? No, you must have heard wrong.

"'Samu, I bet it's a farce, let's not." The voice sounds both tired and weary, almost out of breath.

"Let me just try again, I can smell a working kitchen in there, someone is definitely there," another voice insists. Three more knocking sounds. "Excuse me! Is the owner of the house available? My brother and I followed a path of colored stone and came upon your establishment...could you spare us some water? A bite of food?"

Two men, though they sound friendly. You're frozen in the kitchen, staring at the door that remains between you and the strangers.

"Is there someone home?" The second voice tries again. "Please, my brother is not feeling very well."

Your initial wariness for the stranger melts when you hear about the brother, which does not sound like a lie based on the raspy voice you first hear. A witch's character is fundamentally kind to all sentient beings, especially those in need. But you're still nervous, so you end up grabbing a metal ladle before carefully going to open the door. When you crack the door open, you see a pair of twins. Beautiful men, one blonde and one grey-haired. The former, with a quirky grin, although his eyes certainly look lackluster. But the other seems like he's at the right place, eyes peering past you into your home, fixated on your kitchen.

"I'm Osamu. And this," he gestures to his twin, "is my brother Atsumu. We're a bit lost, you see."

You nod your head in a casual greeting and introduce yourself as the resident apprentice at this cottage. As a good host should, you open the door to the weary guests preparing to welcome them in.

"Are we welcomed in?" Osamu asks, not moving from his spot. Atsumu isn’t budging either, arms crossed and only looking at you from the corner of his eye, waiting for your answer.

Without giving much thought you nod and open the door wider. "Both of you are most welcomed in."

"Then we thank you for your hospitality," Osamu says, taking a step inside, dragging his twin with him.

Words, especially spoken words carry power and hold intent. And a witch's words, no matter how careless they slip out, contain magic. Welcome, as you say. So welcome, they are.

You shut the door behind them and prepare to go give your first-ever guests some water. When you turn around, you notice Osamu already in the kitchen, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up past his elbows.

"Your food is about to burn. Heat's too high," he tells you, expertly taking control of the sizzling pots and pans. "I got it, don't worry."

Feeling flustered at the faint smell of scorching food, you hurry over to see if you can be of any assistance. "Let me help out."

"No, it's quite alright."

How can a host let her guests do all the work like that? And the first company in a while too! What an utter failure.

"How—" you try to argue back, but you're cut off by Atsumu tugging on your wrist, dragging you over to the sofa in the corner.

"Don't worry about him, he loves to cook." Atsumu brushes out the wisps of his bangs with a huff. "And actually quite good at it. Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design."

Like his twin, Atsumu's frame is broad and huge, but there is a quality of emptiness of sorts. Osamu's shoulders are wide but there's more substance to it, whereas Atsumu's form seems contained. You can't help but use your learnings to see if you can figure out just what's off about Atsumu. He's slowly walking around the living room and studying the portraits hanging on the wall. He picks up a frame that is set above the fireplace and comments, "None of these are you. How come?"

"Oh, they're my teacher. I'm just a witch-in-training at the moment, so—"

"A witch?" Atsumu questions, clenching the frame tightly. His hands begin to shake, the glass under his thumb beginning to crack.

You did not expect Atsumu to display such a visceral reaction upon the mention of witches. After all, witches normally stayed far away from ordinary human society and when they do mix, it's often a role of healing. But the look that sparks in Atsumu's eyes, it's almost—feral.

"'Tsumu!" Osamu yells while stalking over quickly from the kitchen. He throws his arm around Atsumu's neck and drags him off into the shadows. You can't make out the muffled voices and deep growling noises that are coming from down the hall.

It's their private matter, so you go back to the kitchen. True enough, Osamu's hands are almost like magic. The bubbling pot of broth doesn't seem to be on the verge of overflowing, the onions caramelizing beautifully, filling the air with deliciousness.

Moments later, the twins come back. You notice that Osamu clothes are wrinkled from tugging Atsumu around, but at the very least, Atsumu is looking much better than before.

The three of you set the table for dinner. Osamu brings out the plates as though he knows the kitchen inside and out already. Atsumu comes emerging from the cellar with two bottles of fine wine that you didn't even know your teacher had stowed away. Surely, she wouldn't mind? With Osamu and Atsumu sitting to the left and right of you at the round table, it almost feels like a more familiar, cozier gathering between friends than a situation of a host and her guests.

They tell you that they have been traveling across the lands for a long time now, looking for a cure for Atsumu's illness. It reminds you of the hollow, repressed form you saw earlier and your curiosity gets the better of you. They don't tell you the nature of the malady, but what they do share is that they are looking for a witch to undo the curse on Atsumu, a result of dark witchcraft.

"I am a witch!" you exclaim, feeling your call to action at the moment. "Please, is there truly nothing for me to help to undo the spell?"

Osamu leans in close to you, and wipes a bit of sauce staining the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb. He smiles. "We're looking for a very high-level witch. One day, maybe you'll get to the level of magic needed."

"You're too weak," Atsumu bluntly points out. You're sure Osamu means to say the same thing, but Atsumu's words are really sharp.

"I know," you sigh. "My teacher tells me that all the time. So, I'm really trying. I'm sure there's at least something I can do."

"I definitely think that. Don't be so hard on yourself," Osamu comforts. "Have you been living alone here for a long time?"

You feel two pairs of eyes glued onto you waiting for your answer. You smile reflexively before your eyes trail to the empty plate and carefully choose your words. "Yea. Just me and my teacher. She's a grand witch...maybe if you wait here for a few days, you can meet her when she comes back from her conference."

"We—"

"We'll be gone tomorrow!" Atsumu snaps, staring into Osamu's eyes.

Osamu doesn't pay any mind to Atsumu, and puts an extra piece of dessert onto your plate.

"We have a long way to go. Atsumu's condition isn't getting better, so we can't stop in one place for long."

It makes you a little sad, because you were hoping to spend some more time with the twins, both of whom you have grown fond of. Osamu and his gentleness. And even Atsumu, despite his quick remarks and outbursts, adds a particular spice to your mundane life.

"Maybe we'll bring you with us," Osamu comments lightly, "'Tsumu, wouldn't that be nice?"

"She'll just be dead weight," Atsumu retorts. You wonder if he absolutely hates you. Is that why he is always so against you being next to Osamu?

Osamu puts an arm around you and blows on the shell of your ear. It tickles and you can feel his body enveloping you. "But she's so sweet," he tells Atsumu and whispers into your ear, "Aren't you?"

You find your wandering gaze looking into his half-lidded grey eyes. His face is right next to you, lips just hovering barely five centimeters away. The overwhelming presence of him is undeniably alluring. Your breaths become shallow as your heart rate speeds up with desire.

"I'm exhausted! 'Samu you too. We're going to bed!" Atsumu drops the silverware onto his plate and stands up. He comes around the table, muttering curses under his breath. Atsumu grabs Osamu by the wrist and drags him off towards the guest bedroom you have shown them before.

You didn't quite catch Atsumu's angry mutters, but you hear "slut" and "harlot" thrown around a few times. Were they directed at you? No, you're not like that, you tell yourself. Atsumu must have been thinking that you are trying to seduce his twin. After you clear out the table, you decide to clear up any misunderstanding.

You tip-toe down the hall to the guest bedroom prepared to knock when you hear muffled sounds coming from inside. You carefully press your ears to the crevice of the door and clamp a hand around your mouth upon hearing the stream of moans.

"'Samu, 'Samu please, ah—"

That's Atsumu? Your eyes are wide and still trying to process the shock of what you're hearing. You tell yourself you shouldn't be here. You should not be listening to whatever is happening behind the closed door, but you can't help it. Hearing Atsumu's moans makes you want to squirm.

You slightly jump when you hear a slap, followed with a pleasured groan. The sound is so clean it feels as though the phantom hands are touching your own heated skin.

Osamu's chuckle nearly makes your knees weak.

"Don't get cocky, if it were any other day ngh—, any other day, I would be the one pushing you into the mattress."

Slap. "Shut up, cute 'Tsumu. I like you being so needy for me like this. What do you want from me? Tell me."

"Fuck me, 'Samu."

"With pleasure."

The wood creaks loudly and you tell yourself, you really need to get out as you back away and try to quickly walk down the hall back to your bedroom.

You throw the door open and lock the door behind you with a click. With your eyes closed, you try to steady your breath and the building heat in your core. It's quiet. There's no noise coming from their room. But they are twins! 

You remind yourself that a witch is all-accepting and kind. There are so many circumstances beyond your understanding, judgement is not a part of your nature. And if what they are performing is wrong, what should you say about yourself? You peel off your clothes and step out of the soaked panty that is proof of your lust.

Pillows are fluffed and covers are pulled over your body. You try to sleep, but each time you are about to drift, Atsumu's cries of pleasure come back into your head. Your hand trails down your navel until the fingertips trace over your clit. Gathering some slick from your cunt, you drag it across the sensitive bud.

You shudder from the touch as images, constructed in your fantasy, cloud your mind. You imagine Atsumu's hands spreading your legs apart and Osamu's teasing words next to your ear. He would tell you to open wide and shove his cock down your throat. You suck on three of your fingers until lips wrap over the knuckles, your saliva pooling from hunger. And slip your fingers into your cunt easily, curling them against the plush walls.

"F-fuck me," you moan into your pillow.

With pleasure.

You quiver, clit pulsating, and your pussy juice dripping into your palm. The wash from the high soon takes you into sleep. All throughout the night, you squirm and feel the phantom sensation of being watched. Not just observed, but studied, by two pairs of glinting hungry eyes. You can almost imagine them on either side of the bed, trapping you into the mattress no matter which way you turn.

A few times the weird feelings almost pull you awake, but you don't dare crack an eye open to confirm your suspicions until the morning light begins to filter through the windows, rousing you from sleep. The air is filled with fragrant herbs and the sizzle of delicious brunch from someone awake before you.

No doubt, it's Osamu, because who else can it be? Atsumu? Please. The twins....

You climb out of bed and stretch your neck on the way to the washroom. Your bedroom door is open, but it's too early to notice that detail.

"Morning!" Osamu greets you from the kitchen. You find a fresh mug of coffee shoved into your hands from him.

You mumble thanks and sip at the brew while watching Osamu fry the eggs. Osamu looks to be deep in thought, probably thinking about something pleasant from the faint smile ghosting on his face. You feel a pang of guilt from both listening to their private lives, and also the strange feelings that maybe they heard your private life too—it's all your paranoia talking.

"You're so talented," you blurt out, fisting the fabric of your long skirt.

"Thanks, but better not let 'Tsumu hear ya, he gets jealous super easily."

Even if Atsumu hears, it's fine. You really mean both of them. Both of the twins both seem super talented as a duo; like they've been out there and seen the world. Meanwhile, you're still stuck here, without company. Would it be possible...if they simply stayed?

Osamu senses the words that are stuck in your mouth and answers them for you. "We're gonna be leaving right after breakfast. There's still lots of ground to cover today," he explains, plating the pancake before preparing to ladle a spoonful of batter for the next one.

"Do you have to leave?" you ask, almost pleading.

"It's cozy here and comfortable. We enjoy your company too, but we have to go. Your teacher would hate us, immensely, and on top of that...let's just say, we're always on the run."

"You say it like you two are fugitives or something."

Osamu chuckles and leans closer to you, hot breath flaming your cheeks, or maybe it's just the heat from the stove. A teasing grin pulls his cheeks up slightly as your eyes flicker over to see his lips spell out, "Maybe. Scared?"

Embarrassed, you take a defensive step back, squeaking and bumping into another body.

"MORNING!" Atsumu announces behind you. He's in good spirits and he has his hands on your waist to steady you; he sniffs your hair and smiles before letting you go. "I smell something delicious."

"Breakfast is ready," Osamu says, plating the pancakes. "Hungry 'Tsumu?"

"Tch." Atsumu shoves past you and knees Osamu, mood doing a complete 180. You're almost left like a fly on the wall as you watch the scene unfold.

Osamu is quick to catch his balance while keeping watch on the stove. "Not awake yet?" Osamu grins and passes him a plate of pancakes, essentially telling him to shut up and eat. "Who shoved a stick up your ass? Go eat."

"Fuck you."

"Hm."

Atsumu grumbles but digs into his food anyway. Osamu catches your amused expression in the corner and explains, "It's always like that between us. It's our...way of showing how much we care."

"I know." It's sort of endearing, the banter between the two brothers. Even if the world turns against them, no matter what the odds are, at least Miya Osamu will have Miya Atsumu, and Atsumu will have Osamu. Perhaps it's exactly that sort of bond the two share that you're envious of. Body and soul. Because if only you could have just an ounce of that sort of familiarity with another. But you're just an outsider without an invitation to join in.

While you're mulling over your thoughts, you don't catch the darkening gazes being exchanged between the twins. At some point, Atsmu's plate is already emptied and the wooden table is cleared while you're still lost in your mind. Osamu is fiddling with the metal tea strainer, bobbing it up and down to brew a mug of tea. He threads a cotton string in and out like it's a plaything.

"Do you really want to be with us?" Osamu asks nonchalantly. "'Tsumu and I were talking about it. If you do, maybe we can work something out."

"I just..." You feel like this is your final chance to tell them that you don't want them to go. None of the going around circle hinting that you have been doing. This is the moment to just tell it to them. If you miss this chance, you feel like you won't have another. And even though a pit pulls at your inwards telling you to reconsider, you're brave. "I just want to be together with you all, and help you cure Atsumu. My teacher is so talented, I'm sure she'll have a remedy."

They grin.

Osamu is a great cook, he can do that. Atsumu sometimes seems lazy, but he's super strong and quick to help too. And you can pick up all sorts of other tasks in the area! Maybe because they're so helpful, your teacher will even let them stay once Atsumu is cured. Maybe they can learn magic too! You have heard of warlocks who are powerful with spells too. And you can already imagine, the three of you, like a team, eventually going out into the world to fight demons and monsters and—

"Open wide," a sultry voice sounds next to you. Backing away automatically, you find Atsumu standing right behind you.

"W-wait," your voice shakes, stuck in your throat. "What are—"

His fingers reach for your mouth, prying it open. Before you can voice your distaste, a warm, metal ball gets shoved into your mouth, the thin chain quickly tangles into your hair. The faint traces of tea seep out of its small holes down your tongue and throat, while some spill out the corner of your mouth like trails of drool down your jawline.

Osamu smiles and wipes the liquid away with his thumb, relishing in how your widening eyes gape at him in confusion.

"Being together," he answers the question you wanted to ask, "is what you want isn't it?" He takes a spool of kitchen twine and begins to secure the tea strainer in your mouth. The thin cotton threads wrap around your head over and over again, tightening the steel against your tongue.

You shake your head and try to take another step away from the man you're beginning to become wary of, but the strong grip of Atsumu's hands on your shoulder prevents you from squirming at all. His fingers dig into your flesh, and when you turn to look at him you catch a glint in his eyes, glowering down at you.

"No, no, no, behave," he taunts you, "listen to 'Samu. He'll make you feel real good, trust me."

With the gag in your mouth, all you can let out are weak, warbling gargles from the back of your throat. Why are you doing this? You weren't like this before? Loud snorts flare out your nostrils from the fear screaming through your body.

Osamu comes back with a paring knife, examining the edge under the sunlight filtering in through the stained glass. He presses the cool blade along your cheek, dragging with the dull edge just enough so the sharp end doesn't cut your skin. You feel your knees growing weak and if not for Atsumu's hold on you, you would sink into a shuddering heap on the floor.

"You know, I think you might be the best meal yet," Osamu compliments, blade trailing down to your collarbone. The tip of the knife toys with the first button, pressing tension on the x-cross stitching. Snap. The first button pops off, dropping onto the wooden floor and rolling away to an inconspicuous corner. "I'll prep you well."

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. The knife flicks again and all the buttons clatter on the floor before running away for refuge.

Atsumu has cleared the table already and you find yourself hoisted up and laid onto the surface like a slab of meat on a cutting board. The cold surface presses against the back of your shoulder and ass. Osamu ties your wrist together with a hemp rope and secures the other end around the table leg. He also secures your ankles to two other anchor points.

You're utterly exposed and ashamed at your body's display, mortified at how your body is reacting when you catch sight of Atsumu, his eyes dilated, looking at your slit that you know is drenched already. The rough texture of the rope presses painfully into your skin from how tight the bindings are. You can only let out gagged whines in complaint, chest rising up and down from the loud breaths.

"Can't do, love," Osamu chides, kissing the knot at your wrist, satisfied with the results. His fingertips trail down to cup your jaw and his thumb runs across the tea strainer. You close your eyes and groan at his touch. Osamu murmurs, "I won't let anything go to waste."

Atsumu is growing impatient at the sight of his twin treating you like the finest specimen ever. You're not the first one. You won't be the last one, but he still can't stand the sight of someone looking just like himself having first tastes while he's missing out himself. He wants to shove Osamu aside, but he knows that Osamu absolutely hates it when he ravages the meal when it's not ready.

Atsumu unzips his pants and lets his hardened, leaking cock spring free. You stare at Atsumu who is fixated on his own pleasure. His hand wraps around his cock and pumps the length up and down.

Osamu turns your head to look at himself instead. "Someone there is impatient, but let's not learn from him, okay? I want to take you slow, make sure you'll be ready. I don't want you stressed, you release too much cortisol and that toughens the meat."

Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design.

His hand kneads your breast and toys with your nipple, circling and tugging on the tiny, erect bud.

"Relax," he whispers into your ear. "Just like you did last night."

You try to clamp your thighs shut from reflex. Immediately the resistance from the rope ties stop your movements. Osamu squeezes your thighs and pushes them apart once more.

"Right here isn't it, after hearing me fuck 'Tsumu..." Osamu's finger runs down the sides of your labia. "You just couldn't help touching yourself too huh?"

He knows. They know. You feel your cheeks burn at the realization.

"There's nothing embarrassing about it. If anyone should be, it should be us twins, " Osamu's fingers easily slip in, your pussy already dripping with arousal. "Oh woops, I shouldn't need to comfort you. You're clearly not shy."

Osamu's fingers are thick and long, able to reach far deeper than you ever can. Your tongue is still struggling against the gag while your saliva steeps the tea leaves trapped in the ball.

"Oi," Atsumu cuts in with annoyance. "I thought you said to not play with food. What the fuck are you doing, chef?"

Osamu stops his finger in you for a moment before dragging them out. You're trembling at the sudden emptiness and desire to fill the space immediately. The lack of stimulation is irritating and you are desperate.

Osamu walks up to Atsumu, bringing his drenched fingers covered in your slick to his lips for a taste. Before he can do so, Atsumu grabs Osamu's wrist and takes in those digits, sucking on them gingerly.

Osamu smiles and runs the other hand through Atsumu's hair.

"Patience is a virtue, 'Tsumu, I was just getting her fully prepared for you. I'm giving her all to you already, you couldn't even let me have a taste of her?"

Atsumu releases Osamu's fingers with a pop. "I never said I wasn't going to share," he mutters before pulling Osamu in for a kiss, passing the taste of you along their tongues.

Your body jostles as you finally get a visual matching what you heard last night. You feel your pussy leaking with more excitement, the arousal drips all the way down to your asshole. And the more you squirm, it's as though the rope ties become tighter and tighter, rubbing your skin raw. But even that pain is incomparable to the need to quell your fire.

Atsumu pulls away and presses one last kiss on Osamu's nose. "I always love what you serve, thank you 'Samu." Your heart rate rapidly speeds up as Atsumu comes towards you. He's positioned between your legs, both hands on your thighs, marveling at the display of your body. His hands feel hot.

Atsumu grins. "You probably didn't expect me to be the one taking you, huh?" He guides his cock to your entrance, the bulging tip prodding along your puffy lips. "Did you want Osamu to be the one fucking you?"

No? You want to argue, straining your head up slightly, but only tea-laced saliva drips out from the corners of your mouth.

"'Fuck me, 'Samu. Fuck me, please.' Is that what you heard? Is that what you wanted to say too?"

Your screams are muffled whimpers.

Osamu snorts off to the side, watching Atsumu do exactly what he accused Osamu earlier of: playing with his food. Hypocrite.

Atsumu glares at Osamu before turning his attention back to you. "You'll be begging for me, Atsumu, after I'm done with you."

He lines himself at your entrance and inches himself in, groaning at how your cunt is somehow just sucking him in. You're so warm and tight inside, wrapping perfectly around every part of him. He sits in you for a moment, just enjoying being blanketed by your muscles and chuckling how you tighten around him every now and then.

You whine, urging Atsumu to move a little.

"Okay, okay. Geez, and 'Samu says I'm impatient." Atsumu slowly draws his cock out and snaps his hips forward, the base of his balls slapping against your ass. He delights at how you squeeze your eyes shut and continues rocking into you at a comfortable pace.

Osamu enjoys standing off to the side for a while. He always liked watching Atsumu savor and delight the food he prepares. Atsumu always eats with such gusto. It should have always been that way, until the witch ruined everything. The curse, an experiment with the dark arts, should have never happened. Above all else, it should never have been on Atsumu. Osamu can only wonder if the reason they are subjected to this fate is because they are twins. Until a cure is found, Atsumu, his most beloved other, will have to replenish himself in this way.

A sharp pain rips through you and tears well up in your eyes. You feel Atsumu's cock suddenly begin to pulsate and grow in size. At first, you thought it was because you're clamping down on him too hard and will yourself to relax. But the cock, the thing, is certainly unnatural now. And between your tear-stained vision, you can just barely make out... Monster.

You begin to thrash wildly, head tossing side to side, back arched as much as you can in a futile escape attempt. Atsumu's claws rest on your hips while he pounds into you furiously. His groans, now deep growls, send vibrations that you can feel within your throbbing clit. You fear that you'll actually be ripped in half by the way Atsumu is thrusting into you. The engorged cockhead hits your cervix each time and his ball sack, even heavier, bowls and knocks against you.

Osamu unfolds his arms and comes over.

"It'll only hurt if you don't relax," he tells you, reaching out to press on your clit. "Just let him have his way."

"Go fuck her somewhere else," Atsumu snarls. His voice is warped and bellowing. Your mind is getting foggy as Osamu's fingers on your clit don't stop teasing the bud while having a petty talk with Atsumu. And Atsumu, ticked off by Osamu, picks up his speed.

"There we go, now that's beautiful," Osamu comments, taking his hand away and watching you unfurl in your pleasure. Your abused cunt is puffy when Atsumu pulls out, and you feel the thick liquid start to flow out when you take breaths.

"No, don't do that," Osamu chides, taking three fingers to gather the cum spilling out and stuffing it back in. "Better keep it all in. 'Tsumu isn't done with you yet."

Not yet? You can't even voice your thoughts except weakly shaking your head and moaning into the steel gag. In the moment, your stomach rumbles loudly.

"'Samu, she's hungry," Atsumu points out, rubbing your tummy. "You feed her and I'll stuff her."

Osamu ruffles Atsumu's long hair and gives his new, erected horns a teasing squeeze. Atsumu yelps at the touch. "'Samu!"

"Okay, okay," Osamu relents and stands next to your head. You see him take the paring knife again and slide the icy blade between the cotton ties and your hot cheek. A quick slice and you feel the pressure of the gag release. Osamu removes the tea strainer from your mouth and tosses it into the sink.

"Must have been so over-brewed, I apologize for that," he says. You know he doesn't mean it at all.

"Why?" you croak out. Your jaw and cheeks are sore from being held in position for so long. There's so many things you believe you can ask why about. Why they are prepping you like a meal, fucking you like a toy...Why Atsumu is the way he is. Why Osamu is not who you think he is either. Why you.

Despite Atsumu's grotesque figure, you're sure that you fear this twin more. Osamu's thoughts are so well-hidden behind his eyes; he never gives away what he's thinking or planning. You can only accept his decisions from the receiving end.

"Because of Atsumu," Osamu answers. Everything is for 'Tsumu. "I'll feed you."

Osamu cradles your head with both hands, his fingers tangled in your hair. He prods his cock against your lips. Feeling your resistance, he grips your hair tightly, painfully pulling on your scalp, and presses the tip of his cock to force your lips open. You nearly gag at the length entering your throat and your hands ball into tight fists. Your nose is buried in the base of his cock, pressing into his balls. Each breath you take is heavy with his musky, hot scent.

It's easy to focus on Osamu's cock fucking into your throat, leaving an unamused, monstrous twin off to the side preparing to turn your attention back to him by force.

Atsumu rubs himself against you, preparing to enter you again. You're sure that he has become even bigger. When the tip pushes through, your body attempts to fight the intrusion in self-preservation. The claws at your hips dig in and Atsumu all but pulls you onto his length like a sock. You scream around Osamu's cock, throat clenching around his thick length, and nearly black out from the stretch.

You never had anything this big in you before. Atsumu lifts you up slightly, his grasp becoming large enough to encircle around your whole waist. Your ankles are still tethered and tug on you, much to Atsumu's annoyance. He easily slices through the bondages with a sharp claw. Now free of restraints, Atsumu can cradle you more easily, finally pushing the last section into you. 

Crack!

You can’t cry while you're stuffed with Osamu’s cock, but tears stream endlessly from your eyes. You’re sure your pelvic floor is broken, completely forced apart in a futile attempt to accommodate Atsumu stuffing you beyond your physical capacity. Your hips give out as your two legs, bone out from their sockets, dangle grotesquely.

“Just focus on me,” Osamu wipes your tears away and continues to pump into you. But you cannot focus on the human object in your mouth when your whole lower half and inwards are broken, stretched or squashed.

"Hey look ‘Samu! It's bulging," Atsumu marvels at the imprint of his tip pushing your flesh out from the inside. “Look, my cock is saying ‘hello’.”

Atsumu excitement translates into messy thrusts, treating your body like a game. “Maybe I can even touch your dick through her!” 

Your whole body is numb, the brain shuts its pain signals off completely, and hormones pour through your bloodstream in overdrive. The broken climax spasms through your body like the last bits of a faltering system.

“Better hurry...she’s...she’s fading soon,” Osamu warns between his grunts. He clasps your head and spurts his seed into you. You mindlessly swallow every drop of him, letting the contents slowly flow down your throat. You can’t process anything nor recognize any of the murky images. Who are you? Where are you?

Your memory fades in and out as your eyesight drifts between black and white. You can’t do anything about how the monster is now on all fours over your body, unrecognizable as Atsumu. You don’t feel any fear towards this grotesque figure. You don’t register how his tongue licks your neck.

Your mouth is now empty but you can’t formulate syllables.

“I’m sorry,” you hear Osamu whisper before sharp fangs pierce into your jugular, digging in deeper and tearing a chunk out. Red sprays across your body in fast spurts, drenching Atsumu and covering Osamu. The teeth at your throat gnaw at the flesh, starved, tearing through the skin, fat, and tissues like a child crunching fruit. 

You can feel the droplets falling onto your face like fresh rain after a storm. You vaguely remember your teacher and her warning of strangers. She always reprimanded you and you wanted to make her proud. There will no longer be any chance of that now. You weren’t a good student, and only an utter failure.

Osamu waits for Atsumu to finish you off. Atsumu always gets messy at this point. Osamu tried to help Atsumu section his prey off by cutting and organizing the limbs and even attempted to debone the meal beforehand, but Atsumu has his preferences, and Osamu respects them. So, Osamu delegates cleaning duties to himself instead. 

You’re already beyond recognition when Osamu comes back with barrels of oil. All that is left is a kitchen stained with blood and a pile of bone with chewed connective tissue left. Atsumu sometimes eats the bones too, but not always.

“‘Tsumu, are you full now?” Osamu asks, reaching out to cradle his twin. Atsumu has now transformed back to the way he is supposed to be. Osamu threads his hand through Atsumu’s blonde hair and inhales his twin’s scent.

Atsumu doesn’t respond and tugs at Osamu’s collar, trailing down his arm to bring Osamu’s hand to his own cock.

Osamu grins and kisses the top of Atsumu’s head. “Do you want to fuck me ‘Tsumu? I know you like to, after your meals.”

Atsumu whines and nips at Osamu’s jaw, pushing the twin down on the blood-stained floor.

“Okay, okay.” Osamu unzips and pulls down his pants before crawling onto all fours.

Atsumu’s hand cups Osamu’s ass and pries the cheeks open before curiously fingering at the specimen plugging Osamu’s hole. Atsumu holds onto the base and turns the object, before laughing.

“‘Samu, what is this you have in your ass,” Atsumu teases. “I like this presentation.”

This time, Osamu is the one embarrassed. “Last meal, it hurt like hell. So...I wanted to prepare a little.”

“With an egg holder?” Atsumu cackles again, fiddling with the ceramic object. “Should’ve just told me ‘Samu, I could never bear to hurt you.”

Atsumu holds onto the base and slowly pulls the object out before tossing it aside. He smiles and teases Osamu’s enlarged hole that’s opening and closing around nothing. Gathering up some saliva, he spits onto Osamu’s asshole before lining his cock at the rim and slowly pushing in.

Along with the curse comes a near insatiable lust. Atsumu knows that if he doesn’t fulfill his need to fuck or be fucked, he will snap. He doesn’t really care who he kills during a frenzy of that sort, but it’s too risky to get Osamu caught up in the collateral.

The witch that wanted to create the perfect weapon, failed. She failed because she underestimated the twins’ bonds for each other. She failed because the twins discovered that witches excrete a very special hormone in their body after climax, and it is exactly that substance that is slowly curing Atsumu. With every witch eaten and absorbed, Atsumu is healing and gaining magical powers. He is even capable of passing those essences to Osamu. One day, everything will be the way it's supposed to be.

Osamu plays with a few strands of Atsumu’s hair. Atsumu’s softened cock still buried inside of him. Atsumu has his jaw resting on Osamu’s shoulder.

“You make me feel so good,” Atsumu sighs, enjoying the quiet moments after his high.

“And what about her?” Osamu asks, gesturing to the table where your remains are still at.

“She made me feel good too. The best one yet, but don’t be jealous.”

“Come on, let’s clean up and get out of here.”

After washing their bodies and changing into clean clothes, Atsumu and Osamu are ready to say goodbye to the cottage they have overstayed their welcomes at.

"Let's go 'Samu, we're already behind." Atsumu finishes dumping the last bucket of oil along the edges of the room.

The clamor of boots stride across the creaking wood. As though with the passing of its owner, the cottage itself has lost the will to live.

"Coming," Osamu calls back, walking past the makeshift funeral pyre for you. He notices a flash on the ground and bends down to pick up a button.

"'Samu! Get the fuck out or I'll burn ya down too!"

"Yea, yea."

Osamu drops the button into his shirt pocket and joins his twin outside. Atsumu strikes a matchstick and tosses the small flame into the cottage. Fire meets oil and spreads in an instance, engulfing the cottage in an angry blend of orange and red, devouring all contents and remains within. The smell of scorched wood reaches the twins who are looking at the sight from a distance.

"She was good," Atsumu comments, looking at his twin unsure about what Osamu's grey eyes are thinking about. Atsumu realizes that he didn't specify what good exactly means. But it doesn't seem like Osamu is paying much attention. Is Osamu thinking about you? Is he unhappy? Does he regret what happened to you? Although what's done is done already, if time can go back, would Osamu choose? You or Atsumu?

Osamu slips his hand into Atsumu's, erasing the unspoken worries away. He gently leads Atsumu onto the trail, leaving the burning cottage behind.

"Stop thinking such nonsense," Osamu mutters, squeezing Atsumu's hand. No matter what happens, Atsumu will always come first. His needs, his desires. That's what it means for Osamu to love Atsumu. Even though the rest of the world may not understand the relationship the twins share, calling it depraved and disgusting, it's still selfless on their part. What sin is there to honestly love? What sin is there to try and save his loved ones?

While Osamu admits to himself that he does feel a deep attraction to you and knows that Atsumu feels the same pull as well, there's nothing that can be done about Atsumu's condition. But it's not as though you are completely gone. Your essences and core are within both twins, being absorbed as one with their bodies and soul. You'll forever be with them in that way, even if you no longer have any sentient memory of it.

Osamu fiddles the button in his pocket; there's still a physical reminder of you in that tiny form.

It must be about a twenty-minute trek from the burning site. Although the flames are already far from eyesight, the scorching smell and embers still drift over. The twins pick up their pace, eager to exit the forest before nightfall and make it to the next destination. On the way, they pass by the tree trunk with a wanted poster.

"They never get my best angles!" Atsumu complains, ripping a wanted poster that is nailed to the tree trunk.

"It's not like you have a good angle, ‘Tsumu."

"Shut it, we look the same ‘Samu. You're just calling yourself ugly too!"

Osamu shrugs and continues his trek down the main trail. Atsumu huffs, tearing the parchment into indistinguishable pieces before throwing the shreds up into the air like confetti.

"Wait up!"

Osamu stops in his tracks. "Hurry up, loser. We still have a long way to go."

Atsumu takes a few wide strides and swings his arm around his twin's shoulder. Behind them, a very light drizzle falls from the sky.

#atsumu smut #osamu smut #miya twins smut #atsumu x reader smut #osamu x reader smut #hq smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #tw dubcon #tw noncon #tw blood #tw gore #tw death #tw violence #tw monster #tw:incest #tw vore #emi.freshtea #🍵.atsumu #🍵.osamu #oh my god 2 months n times rewrite and 3 months in the oven #the witch is finally burned omg

[haikyooot]

Pretty Frames

Pairing: Baji x f!reader WC: 500 (exactly heeheheh) Genre/Tags: fluff, reader wears glasses

“I love the way you flip me off every now and then.”

You look up from your book and frown at Baji sitting across from you. His head is propped up on the back of his hand, a lazy grin plastered on his face.

“What?”

“When ya flip me off,” he repeats. “Like this.” 

A hand reaches across the table and Baji’s middle finger aims right for the little bridge of your glasses. He doesn’t control his little action and promptly shoves the glasses right up your face, nose pads barely missing the corner of your eye.

Waving his hand away, you cry out, “Ow! What the hell?” before readjusting the frames on your face.

“Crap, sorry.” Baji apologizes, but he can’t contain the bubbling laughter over your scrunched expressions, an adorable scowl. 

--

“Love it. This one’s it!” Baji smiles brightly and gives you a thumbs up.

“Keisuke! This is the sixth time you said that!” you complain, slipping the frame off your face and putting it back on the display. “You gotta pick one.”

Baji looks at the five pair of glasses he’s holding onto. That one makes you look fresh. The other pair is really chic. Oh, that pair looks kinda like the fake pair he had (that you still tease him about), but you look amazing in them. Bottom line is, he really can’t choose. He’s not lying, he loves all of them on you. You look amazing in all of them.

He follows right after you. You take a step, he takes a step. You peer over the display, he peeks over your shoulder to see which frame has your attention. You carefully try on another pair and look into one of the mirrors, catching his gaze in the reflection. You look at him expectantly, as if asking, what about this one? He smiles.

“Love this one too.”

Seeing you sigh and roll your eyes over his indecisiveness, Baji laughs again.

--

It’s the crack of dawn. Light barely comes through the blackout curtains draped to the floor. The alarm goes off, beeping into your dreams. You groan and turn around in Baji’s arms.

Your hand begins its blind morning search for your glasses, which should be neatly folded, safely stowed on the bedside table. The soft pats across the wooden surface wakes up the man next to you. He stirs and yawns. The hands continue their search after finding the table empty, rummaging across the bedsheets and under the pillow.

You yawn and gently nudge Baji. “Kei?”

“I’ll go find them,” he answers, climbing out of the comforts of the warm blankets. It doesn’t take long for Baji to come back from the bathroom with your glasses.

“Thanks.” You take the glasses from him, unfold the legs and slide them on. At the same time, Baji pulls open the curtains, welcoming in the sunlight.

Blinking through your glasses, which you notice are absolutely spotless, crystal-clear, you beam at your love.

“Morning, handsome.”

“Hey, beautiful.”

#baji x reader #baji keisuke #baji keisuke x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #emi.freshtea #🍵.baji #lmao i think this is the shortest thing i've ever written ALF ALWKEJ

[haikyooot]

In Theory

Pairing: South x gn pianist!reader

WC: 1.2k

Genre/Tags: fluff to angst, heavy angst, death, violence, music/piano, manga spoilers 

A/N: i know i’ve been whining about piano au south ever since the South backstory chapter lmao ehehehe

In theory, South should have never spared you a second glance. In theory, if you appeared in his mind the third time, he should have put six bullets through your skull. But when the two were drunk between the melodies, lost between the clefts, bars, and pauses, the theory didn’t mean much.

Accelerando. Gradually. Gradually yet quickly, South came to realize that you were often at that park, during that time, sitting at that piano. Again and again, he passed by you on the way to the designated bench where the mole would report undercover news to him. 

Andante, a walking speed. Yours was different from his. Your steps were more normal than his. But the few entranced steps he took towards the old, painted piano sitting in the park slowed to a normal speed. His wide steps diminished to calm curiosity. You asked him, “Do you play too?”

Lunga pausa, a long pause. “No. I...well, I used to.” He didn’t have to answer, but he was drawn in by the harmonious quality of your voice, the eloquence of the tone. Much like the music from your fingertips, it carried richness and warmth. Powerful and confident.

South trailed closer, his height towered over the street piano. The ivory keys were rustic but still cleaner than the ones he knew. His hand trailed over a key and carefully pressed down with his index. A low, vibrating hum sounded.

“G. So.” You told him, pressing the same key three octaves higher.

“The...piano I had didn’t have this key,” South said after pressing the key again. “Or this one, this...that...” His finger traveled to another black key, and then another white key, and then another.

His life could be described as messy. Messy and vicious. Details, many unkind, wove together in not-so-pleasant ways. Many of which South would choose to un-remember, but could not. Amongst the smashed in faces and splatter brains, broken bones, and wailing cries, South remembered the piano in his childhood room: the one out of tune with holes. He didn’t even realize it was out of tune until much later on, but by then, nothing could be tuned back again. Mother was gone.

“Beethoven composed many of his works on pianos missing keys,” you said with a slight chuckle and pressed a few, infamous, loud chords. “He broke a lot of pianos too.” 

South scoffed and left as pedestrians began to come over to see if there was a show. A small smile curved on your face as you stretched your fingers and began the program you had for the public today. Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced towards his broad frame walk further and further away. He was a musician. You could tell because you were one too. And musicians found each other because musicality didn’t need words.

Allegro, quick and cheerful. South found you frequently at the park, almost waiting for him. You noticed him each time, no matter how withdrawn he tried to be—not that it was particularly difficult either with his height and stature. You were persistent, never approached him first, but the music was more tantalizing than any dessert. And the beast soon willingly stepped out of his cave. 

"Do you think I could play? Truly play?"

"If you set your heart to it, I'm sure you can."

South found himself sitting next to you on the bench. His hands no longer roamed near the low notes. South found clenched fists as the most comfortable position for his hands. There was comfort and security involved with curling fingers into the palm until the exposed flesh balled tightly like unmovable stone. But next to you, he opened himself, unfurled the thick fingers covered with scars and calluses, and exposed the center of his palms to the keys. His hand stretched across a whole octave.

Dolce, sweetly. You told him that he had very large hands. "Perfect for Rachmaninoff and Liszt!" you chirped. Hearing your encouragement, he stretched his pinky across one more key, and then another until they spanned thirteen keys. "Impressive," you remarked, sizing your hand next to his. South felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards.

Molto, molto. More and more. He involved you in his life and willingly allowed himself to step into yours. There was a place, a humble spot where it was shared. Lovely and homely. A bed, a kitchen, a bathtub big enough for two. A piano.

"How was it?"

"Hm. Not bad~"

“Only not bad?”

Staccato. Pops and pizzaz. Small jumps and sprites fizzing like soda pop. Jumping and playfully. He joked with you, easily surprised you while you were sitting on the bench. In fact, he could lift you and the bench if he wanted. You slung your arms around his neck. Trailed over his large hands with tickling touches from your own. Distracted him from practice with secretive pecks that he would never see coming. Finally, even South caught your rhythm and turned his head at the right time, captured your attempts to flee, and buried your shrieks with deep laughter.

Con anima. With animated spirit. South was alive. He had something to look forward to, a direction to strive for. Sitting next to you, months later, four hands spanned the whole range of black-and-white keys. 

Sotto voce, in an undertone, hushed whispers. Richly and huskily, he asked for a duet. One that would last for a long, long time. "Marry me."

Rubato, robbed. An expression of longing, borrowing time from the left and right to sustain the now. Disregard all else for the moment. South wanted it to drag on—where your breath whispered against his. Languid movements and yearning gazes. The clock hand would remain frozen until he was satiated. But what was borrowed, must be returned. Happiness and love did not belong to him. It was a fever dream, a short-lived experiment.

Sforzando. An accent. An attack. Out of nowhere. And fast.

Alla breve, doppio movimento. Twice as fast. Twice as quick. Rage. Rage. Rage. He chased, fought, and threatened. But words came faster than fists. Blood spilled faster than life. 

Vivo. Vividly, how could forget this moment that would be seared into his memory? Tattooed across his heart. The unlabeled box sat on the table. The damp edge. Bloodstained bottom. The duct tape was wrinkled and folded across the top.

Estinto, as softly as possible. His touch, almost dying away, he flipped open a switchblade and carefully dragged the blade across the seal. Carefully as to not disturb anything else. Gently. Sorrowfully.

"Please. No."

The fingers were cold and hard. The shape was the silent story of hours and years of practice. Music that had once flown from this pair of hands. They had caressed him, held him, and once comforted him. Once, they were alive.

South clenched his hands into fists, banging hard onto the piano in the corner of the room until the keys shrieked and came undone. The instrument was too frail to bear his rage and despair. 

De capo, again from the beginning. South prayed. God never answered. Terano Mikami begged. Nothing heard his desperation. There was no do-over. Life was not a music sheet. There was no practice until perfect. No repeats. No start again from the beginning.

Shredded music sheets fluttered through the air, drifting down onto the floor like fallen feathers. Glass sparkled in shambles. The instrument collapsed into a pile of string and wood. No sound could be made other than broken silence and South’s choked breaths. The unsteady inhales and exhales grew softer and softer. Pianissimo. Pianississimo. 

Finale. Truly the end. 

#south x reader #south terano x reader #terano south x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers spoilers #emi.freshtea

[bontenten]

Shape of Petals

01 Spring Winds

Pairing: Sanzu Haruchiyo x f!reader WC: 4.4k Chapter Tags: historical au, royalty au, enemies-to-lovers, patronizing lines, threats, poor rabbit the princess is a menace

A/N: Whooo the beginning of another long journey~ Let’s see what’s going to happen :3  

Masterlist || Taglist (form)

Spring in the palace is always a beautiful sight: flowering trees are displaying their blooms, birds flying in and out are busy feeding their young, and new faces of palace servants can be seen following their superiors. After living all of your life within the palace walls, you think that this scenery is one of the best seasons that you have seen in a long time, hopefully, a good sign. The threads of sunlight cast a gentle warmth. At least, with the warmer temperature, your father's health has some chances of recovering. King Sano has been growing weaker by the day. Since last summer, all of the court affairs have been passed onto the Crown Prince Shinichirou, your eldest brother.

As you and the entourage of six maids approach the Southern Book Hall, one of the maids quickens her pace ahead to announce your arrival to the guards stationed at the entrance. The guards salute you. "Please go in, Princess. His highness has been waiting for you."

Your second brother, Prince Manjirou, has been helping Shinichiro with some external affairs, often spending his time outside of the palace. Just recently, he finished a month-long trip to the Northern mountains and returned late last night.

"Brother!" you call out cheerfully, eager to see him after a long time. Each of the maids stationed along the hall curtsey to you while you skip past them and rush into the main hall. You find him at the main seat, steamed bun in one hand, a book in the other, completely focused on anything but you. He doesn't even acknowledge you despite the ruckus you make while coming in. You're fiddling with your thumbs, waiting for him to say something.

"It hasn't even been that long," Manjirou drawls. "Don't even recognize your brother?"

You hastily curtsey (more like a quick nod), not caring that it isn't low enough or long enough to carry sufficient respect. "Not at all!" you quip. "I have so much respect for you, but it seems like you are too busy to spend any time with lil' me."

You cross your arms until he finally gives you his full attention.

"What do you mean, too busy for our little princess?" he questions with a chuckle. "I'm still tired from the trip, but I'm still meeting you today. I haven't even seen Emma yet, you know."

You turn your back to him, a full pout on your face as you continue to jest. "Then, I shall not disturb your rest. And you can go find Sister Emma before calling for me. She misses you way more anyway."

"Alright, alright." Manjirou shakes his head in exasperation. You are utterly spoilt and what can anyone do? He and Shinichirou completely enable you. Manjirou pats the cushion next to him. "Come here, I have some good stuff for you."

"How good?" You turn around and your eyes zero in on a soft object in his hand. The fluffy rabbit nuzzles its head into Manjirou's sleeves, nose twitching.

Manjirou gently scratches behind its ears. "Pity that I spent so much time looking for this Frost Hare. Even Emma doesn't have something rare like this." He sighs loudly, a hand rubbing his temples. "Guess Baji or Chifuyu will appreciate this more. Ah, even Tora showed interest. Hm.... But there's only one rabbit, which of those three then?"

Manjirou hides his laughter when he hears fabric rustle and feet shuffle around the floor. Suddenly, you're right next to him, tugging on his arm. "Good brother, bestest brother! I want him! Just give him to me!"

"It was intended for you anyway," he says, placing the soft creature in your arms. The hare's fur is impossibly soft and fluffy, you can't help but run your fingers across its back over and over again.

"Is that all you have for me?" you tease. "Out for a whole month and all I have is a little bunny I could have just gotten myself—Ow! Why flick my forehead?!"

"The youngest one is always the greediest of the bunch, huh?" Manjirou laughs. Gotten yourself? Any idea just how good of a runner is a Frost Hare? Took them days to tame the tiny beast so it would not give you any trouble. "I do have one more thing for you."

You were merely jesting, but hearing him tell you that there really is something else also piques your interest. Ignoring the throb on your forehead, you ask, "What is it?"

"Sanzu," Manjirou suddenly calls out.

What's that? You have never heard of anything called that before. Is it some novelty from a different kingdom? "San—What?"

A figure appears swiftly out of nowhere, crouching down in front of you and Manjirou with one knee. Where did he? You didn't even hear footsteps at all. It's as if he emerged from thin air instead.

"Your highness," he greets in a deep and level voice. His head is kept down, body completely unmoving. How terrifying must this person's martial arts level be? The hand around Manjirou's arm subconsciously tightens a bit. Even the rabbit in your other arm can feel your unease.

Manjirou gently pats your hand. "This is Sanzu, one of the special guards that I have been training. He's yours now. Sanzu, rise and greet your master."

Sanzu stands up, still keeping his gaze on the floor, but you can see that he has a mask covering the bottom half of his face. Long, platinum hair falls over his broad shoulders. He keeps his arms circled in front and bows towards your direction. "Princess."

"Brother Mikey..." you mumble with uncertainty. Your eyes travel from Sanzu to look at your brother.

"After the last assassination attempt, I'm just not comfortable leaving you without any protection. Sanzu is someone that I can completely trust. I'm—"

"You just want someone to spy on me and keep me from doing anything fun!" you accuse angrily, holding the rabbit out to the side. A maid hurries to take the creature from you.

"What? No—"

"Well Emma doesn't have a babysitter like that, does she!"

"Emma knows martial arts and besides she has—"

"Oh, so now you guys just think I'm useless now? Why didn't I learn how to fight, then?"

"That's not it", Manjirou exasperates. The littlest ones...

Right when Manjirou is at his wit's end with how to deal with another one of your tantrums, a burst of laughter rings through the hall. "Who dares to suggest that our most beloved princess is useless? Mikey, what did you do this time?"

"Brother Shinichirou!" You jump up and bound over to your eldest brother, entering the room. Linking an arm around his, you point at Manjirou and huff. "This evil monkey wants to put me with a babysitter!"

"Sanzu's not a babysitter," Manjirou argues. "Why can't you listen to reason."

"So you admit you're an evil monkey then?"

Manjirou opens his mouth and closes it again. He also crosses his arms and huffs. At least Shinichirou is here. He'll take care of everything.

Shinichirou gently straightens your posture, adjusting the collar and shoulder of your dress so it's smooth. "Manjirou is only doing this with the best intentions. I also agree with him. You don't know any martial arts, and we nearly lost you last year. That's not something I ever want to go through ever again, you hear? Father is still not recovered, I can't have anything happen to you too."

"But..." You see his dark eyes, tired with dark circles underneath, grin into a smile. The hands resting on your shoulders are tight. Maybe this is the end-line of your actions. First agree, then I'll figure out something later, you decide. "Okay, I'll listen to you, Brother Shinichirou."

He nods, pleased, and leads you over to where Sanzu is standing. "Sanzu," Shinichiro commands, stern and assertive.

Sanzu quickly takes a respective kneel. "At your service, your highness."

"From this moment henceforth, Sanzu, you will only have one master. You will protect her with your life and heed her words above all else, including that of the highest authorities."

You breathe out a quiet gasp and look quizzically at Shinichirou, then Manjirou. "Brother?" Surely, they do not mean to have Sanzu swear a death pledge to you? One where his loyalty to you falls above his oaths to the crown?

This time it is Manjirou who speaks up. "Sanzu, do you take this pledge?"

A servant comes up with a tray where a bowl filled with sacred liquor sits and presents it to Sanzu.

Sanzu has been quick to notice everything: each unsure look you send Manjirou's way, the faintest step backward you take when he addresses you, and the unmistakable spoiled attitude that comes from being a sheltered princess. The irritation mixed with fear is written clearly on your face, although his opinions...judgments of you, are completely invisible. That isn't because he has a mask covering his face, but rather honed through countless years of training and practice. On the battlefield, one whose emotions can be read should be ready to die—not that you will because you are soon-to-be his responsibility. As disgruntled and unwilling he may be, even unsure why out of all of the fifth division this task falls onto him, Sanzu's loyalty to the brothers is unwavering.

Sanzu unsheathes a small dagger that's tucked in his belt and makes a quick slice across his left palm. Forming a fist, a few droplets of crimson drip into the bowl. Then with both hands, he picks up the bowl and begins his pledge. "I, Sanzu Haruchiyo, pledge my loyalty to her highness. With this blood, I give my life to her. I shall protect her and honor her words as absolute until my last breath."

It's your turn now, the last step of this pledge is to accept his loyalty. At this closer distance, you can see that Sanzu's lashes are exceptionally long. When he blinks, they are almost like fans. For the first time, Sanzu's eyes look up and make contact with yours before closing in a grin. You note that his eyes are a shade of crystal blue, beautiful but ice cold. You wonder if he'll actually listen to your words as promised. With his skills, you have no doubt that he could end you in an instant and make it look like an accident.

Manjirou clears his throat, taking you out of your frozen state. You bite the inside of your cheek and take a step closer to Sanzu. He is completely still, even the liquid in the bowl remains motionless. The moment you take the bowl from his hold, the liquid inside begins to ripple and swirl again. "S-Sanzu Haruchiyo. As the second princess of the Sano family, I accept your pledge."

The liquor is cold and the moment it runs down your throat, you feel warmth spreading all throughout your body. Just thinking about the masked warrior's blood mixed in makes you feel a wave of unease, almost like this part of him now within you could stab you from inside out. You put the empty bowl back on the tray and dab your lips dry with a handkerchief. One day at a time, you suppose.

"Good." Shinichirou smiles and makes his way to the main seating. "Why don't you go have a break now," he tells you. "I still have many things I want to talk to your second brother about."

He means that it's time for you to leave. "Can't I listen in? I only just arrived too..."

"Don't be difficult," Manjirou says. "We'll see each other again soon. Why don't you go show Emma your new rabbit?"

Seeing both men in the room giving you a courteous smile, you respond back with one of your own, even though disappointment is evident on your brows. You bid them both goodbye and leave with Sanzu and the remaining entourage following behind.

--

Normally, the person following closest behind you is your most trusted handmaiden, but currently, there's nothing but an ominous presence instead. You don't have to turn around to imagine Sanzu, in his navy-black clothing, sword ready in its hilt, practically breathing down your back.

"Princess, are we in a hurry?" Willow whispers.

Fool! You mentally scold her, steps picking up pace more and more. "This is my walking speed! You have a problem with that? Sister Emma is still waiting for me."

Someone scoffs.

How dare he disrespect you? Oh, this is the perfect excuse to get rid of him. "Sanzu, didn't anyone ever teach—"

You turn to scold him, make him grovel on the dirt and apologize, but your fingers end up pointing straight at Willow's nose.

"P-Princess!"

"Where did he go?"

"I..I didn't see! He was right here, and then..."

"Did you see him?" You ask another maid and another, but all of them shake their heads.

"Where's my rabbit?" you bite out between your teeth. The maid carrying the rabbit hands the soft bundle over to you. Clutching the creature to your chest, you continue down the path towards Princess Emma's palace.

--

"I was wondering who was coming." Emma leans her weight against one of the pillars at the entrance of her palace hall, Pearlescent Clouds. "Did someone bother you? I must say, that overreaction of yours is exactly why people pick on you, you know."

"Sister Emma!" you whine. "Keep teasing me and I won't tell you how my audience with Brother Mikey went."

"Okay, no more, let's go in. I'll send someone to the kitchen to bring some snacks over."

"That's more like it! I'm starving!"

"Be patient, don't eat that adorable rabbit of yours."

The rabbit freezes, as if it understands what's going on. Its ears twitch and flap once. "Emma!"

Emma makes one last attempt to reach for the bunny nuzzled in your arms. Each time her hands come close, the rabbit seems ready to escape.

"See? You scared him!"

"Okay, my fault it is." Emma laughs heartily and walks in right after you.

Emma's palace is beautifully decorated, the artistry of the complex lattice designs diffuses the sunlight shining in.  It makes the whole room feel like a gem, a pearl within the oyster that is the building. Shinichiro really does have a knack for choosing names; and no doubt, its splendor is more than enough proof of how much Emma is beloved. No other princess would be given such a beautiful palace. Of course, you personally think that your living quarters might be comparable.

You sit next to her at the main seat. She takes one look at you and bursts into laughter again.

"Mikey really doesn't hold back," she says through a giggle. "It's practically a little bump already!"

You try covering your forehead with your hand and complain, "Stop teasing me, Sister!"

Emma wipes a tear from laughing too hard. Once through with her amusement, she sends a look to a maid who curtseys and quickly goes off to follow Emma's instructions. The maid soon returns with a peeled, boiled egg.

"Come here," Emma instructs.

You scoot yourself closer and lay your head down on her lap. She clears a random stray hair over your forehead and presses the warm egg over where Manjirou had flicked you.

"Ow!"

"It's not that bad," Emma says. "Cuts and bruises from training hurt way worse than this, you know."

"Well, I don't train, so I wouldn't know." The only pain you can think of off the top of your head comes from eating too much resulting in a stomachache or when it's your time of the month. And now, there's also him.

"So tell me, how's Brother Mikey? You did go and see him, right?"

"I don't want to talk about that evil monkey." You pout and turn your head away.

Emma laughs. "Then what do you want to talk about? Why you were upset on the way here?"

"Because of Sanzu!" you grumble, feeling the fiery annoyance flaring back up. It takes everything not to kick around and cause more ruckus in the palace. You sit up and slouch over the wooden tea table.

"Who's Sanzu?"

"The guard Brother Shinichiro and Brother Mikey gave me," you answer with boredom.

"Gave?"

"Yea, guess he made an oath and all. It's so gross, I tell you, had to drink this really strong liquor that had his blood in it too!" You tell her what happened in the hall, about Manjirou and the rabbit, a few tidbits of his travels that you remember, the moment when Shinichirou enters, and then mentally retching at the whole ritual. It doesn't take long for you to realize that Emma hasn't said a word at all. "What can they possibly need to talk about? Didn't they already go meet Father yesterday when Brother Mikey came back? They really don't have any time for me. Emma? Emma? Emmma."

She blinks and turns her attention back on you with a smile. "Sorry, I was just thinking about some things. Dear sister, you shouldn't take that pledge so lightly."

"Well, it's not like either of us wanted this. It's all Brother's fault. Besides, what are words going to do?"

Emma's face turns tight. "You're right. They are just words, but..."

She pauses for a moment and ponders on what to say next.

"Respect goes both ways, you know. Loyalty comes after that. You say that he's just there to spy on you, but you have to know that's not true. If Brother Mikey and Brother Shinichiro wanted someone to just watch you all the time, they could very well not tell you. They could easily assign guards that follow their orders. They are handing the potential of loyalty to you, do you understand?"

"Yea, yea." You wave away at Emma's lecture and pick up another pastry. "Wow, this one is really good. I should have my kitchen make some of these too."

"If you like it, I'll have Willow bring some back with you," Emma answers, before changing the subject back. "Where's Sanzu now? I didn't see him when you first arrived."

You shrug. "He ran away, he's just a lazy ass." You try to reach for the other plate, but Emma pulls it away. You find her unamused frown looking at you. Finally, you relent. "Okay, well, I guess if I call for him, he'll show up. It's bizarre I tell you."

Emma raises an eyebrow and pushes the plate back in front of you.

"Sanzu, my sister wants to see you. Sanzu, Sanzu. Became thin air, did you?" you call out, picking at which snack will end in your mouth. Emma's eyes are following the lines of the beams at the ceiling, focused and sharp, looking for any movements.

"Your highness." There he is. Sanzu appears out of nowhere.

"Creep," you mutter, barely louder than an airy breath. You almost wish that he did not show up. After disappearing earlier, why couldn't he just leave altogether? You still have no idea where he went earlier and when he came back.

"Shush," Emma scolds. Her eyes narrow as she carefully analyzes Sanzu from top to bottom. His hair, his eyes. She can see why you might be uneasy next to him, with his mask covering. It does remind her of agents that would only operate at night. Although Emma wouldn't consider herself a martial arts expert, she is more than capable to estimate Sanzu's skill.

He must have been hidden on the beams, she concludes. But when did he get up there, how, and exactly where he hid...even Emma cannot come to an answer.

"How long are you going to have him kneeling," Emma asks you, sending a glance Sanzu's way.

Why is Emma so focused on him? "He's more than capable of kneeling around. Like a statue, he doesn't even move one bit."

Emma harshly calls your name, and you finally relent. "Get up Sanzu, it's fine."

Sanzu masks his presence very well. Each of his movements is swift, with nothing wasted at all. If you did not tell Emma of him, she would not have realized there was another person in the hall at all. Now that Sanzu is standing before her, she can finally feel a very slight aura coming from him. Bloodlust.

"Since you were under Prince Manjirou, I don't need to test you to know that your ability is first-class. With skill like yours, how come I have never seen you around?" Emma questions Sanzu, circling behind him. She tries to think of each of the warriors she has seen Mikey train when she would pass by the training grounds. None of them reminded her of this man in front.

"I was from the fifth division," Sanzu answers. "It's not odd for your highness to have never seen me before."

When you first mentioned that Manjirou gave you a guard, Emma considered challenging said person to a duel, but that thought is now completely out the window. In terms of capabilities, Sanzu outranks her, and not by a little. Fifth Division. Intelligence and Assassination. The members of this division are both skilled and ruthless. Even the other generals would probably have some difficulty against Sanzu. Emma has only ever encountered them twice before. In terms of trust, Emma can only put her faith in Manjirou and Shinichirou in making the right decision.

"Since you're from the fifth division, I believe in your abilities, but I also want to leave you with a few words if you'll be willing to listen."

"My ears are open to any criticism you may have, your highness."

Emma nods and continues, "My little sister is the youngest of us all. Over the years, she's been pampered and coddled." She shoots you a glare when you open your mouth to try and argue. "If she has any behaviors or words that cross the line, I apologize in her stead."

Sanzu's senses tighten. What is Princess Emma trying to get to? Each conversation, every action has its own reason. This entire time, Emma has been doing nothing but scrutinizing him, but instead, she's taking a fully diminutive stance with her words.

"The princess is my master." Sanzu answers, grip tight around the scabbard. "There is no reason for any apologies for her actions."

"That's true," Emma affirms. "It's as you say, she is your master. Still, it's difficult not to be offended by her at times. I hope you'll be patient."

"Of course, your highness."

"And my final word." Emma steps closer to Sanzu, so the following lines are kept between the two of them. "I don't know the details of what goes on in the fifth division, but you are no longer a part of it. I don't trust you, but Prince Manjirou trusts you, and I trust my brother. This bloodlust reeking from you, I hope you control it fully lest it scares my little sister. She is not your interrogation or assassination target, but the second princess of the Toman Kingdom. You cannot let any harm come to her, body or mind. Remember that well, Sanzu."

There it is. After the whole trip walking and talking in circles, that is Princess Emma's main objective.

Sanzu bows. "I'll remember it well, your highness."

You're beginning to grow impatient in your seat watching Sanzu and Emma have some sort of secret conversation. "Are you two done yet? Geez. Emma, if you like him, I'll leave him to you. I don't want him anyway."

Emma spares Sanzu a last glance before making her way back to her seat next to you. "Stop jesting. I was just a little curious about his background, that's all."

You nod, accepting the answer. "If there's nothing else, Sanzu, you can go now."

"Yes, your highness." Sanzu bows and takes a few audible steps back before exiting the hall through the door.

That's new.

"Alright, it's about time for you to leave, right?" Emma asks. "I already have the maids give Willow the pastries that you like."

"What? But I feel like I just got here!" you complain.

"And finished almost everything on the table," Emma points out. She adjusts a weighty hairpin holding up her coiled hairstyle. "Time to go walk and digest. Do you want a stomachache later again?"

You watch Emma struggle with the pin and reach out to help her set it in place. "Emma, normally, you just keep your hair simple, what's with the change today?"

Emma's maid lets out a quiet giggle off to the side and decides to tease her lady a bit. "That's because she heard Prince Manjirou returned last night. Our princess has been so busy trying on different outfits."

Your eyes widen with devilish realization. "Okay Emma, you want to shoo me away so you can meet with your little sweetheart, huh?"

The maids' lips all curve up. Many are unsuccessful at hiding their amusements behind their sleeves.

"Aww, are you waiting for your Kenny-boy?"

"Stop it!" Emma cries out, hiding her blushing face with a handkerchief. "That's not true. Stop coming up with rumors!"

"Sparrow, tell me. Does Draken have an audience with my sister today?"

"Well, there isn't a formal audience, per se..." Sparrow looks at Emma who's glaring at her and then back at you whose eyes are full of curiosity. Sorry, Princess, she thinks. "But General Ryuuguji did send a letter asking for a meeting by the pavilion. I think the time should be around—"

"Sparrow!" Emma interrupts with a groan. Your hideous snickers are already mocking her.

"See, everyone with eyes and half a brain knows. You look at him like I look at my desserts: like you're gonna eat him." You lean closer to her and whisper, "And do the unspeakable nasty."

You quickly jump to your feet and skip down the hall, as Emma yells out your full name. "Willow, let's go! I don't want to be third-wheel next to two lovebirds."

"Yes, Princess." Willow giggles, following right behind you.

The rest of the maids following you are waiting outside of the palace. When they see you at the entrance, they collectively curtsey-bow to you. There's another person as well—Sanzu, leaning against one of the huge red pillars, arms crossed over his sword and eyes closed. His long lashes flutter when he opens his eyes after hearing the maids greet you.

"Are you going back to your palace, Princess?" he asks. His eyes are waning like crescent moons, as though he is smiling underneath that mask. A breeze blows through the courtyard of the Pearlescent Clouds, lifting his hair in the wind.

Still creepy, you conclude, walking past him without a word. Don't think that because you are on my siblings' good side that I'll accept you.

Masterlist || Taglist (form)

+ Taglist will be in the reblog

#sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x you #tokyorev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #shape of petals #emi.freshtea

[haikyooot]

Inferno Pas de Deux

Pairing: Baji Keisuke x f!reader WC: 2.1k Genre/Tags:  fluff, little hurt & lots of crazy comfort, reader is implied to be a dancer, Baji lives and he is sooo whipped, ARSON, property damage, expressing anger through violence against inanimate objects, speeding, public nuisance (excessive revving), running from law enforcement, some suggestive language, a lot of profanity enough for tumblr to hid the fic from tags for an hour lmao

Summary: You’re stressed, tired, and pissed, so your boyfriend takes you on a ride to make a wish and get rid of some of that pent-up frustration.

A/N: Broken out from a longer Baji wip hehehe, it’s all gonna be little one-shots. I had so much fun with this one! It’s a lil (very) different from the usual stuff I write ahahah. Consider this...me paying dues for Baji angst.

"Oh my god, I want to kill her," you tell Baji one day, dreading going back to work the next day.

"Uh huh..." He's still waving around a little laser, playing around with the kitten who's trying to capture the red dot that's darting about on the floor.

"Are you even listening?"

"Uh huh..."

You roll your eyes and stare at the little kitten shaking its tiny paws in the air and the man who's pretty much a cat himself. Clearly, both are in their own little starry universes.

The next day, you're miserable. Miserable doesn't even begin to describe how out of control the whole workplace is. You want out—to leave. Leave now, leave for good. Tired. Exhausted. Done...and pissed.

A few paces away from the building entrance, you hear a familiar rev from behind, the deep rumble is so distinct. Of course, it's Baji's Suzuki, affectionately named Cockroach. Unfortunately. Oh, and it's nicknamed Cock, but that's irrelevant.

You turn to see bright headlights shining right in your face, the silhouette manning the bike is dark but you already know it's him. Baji rolls to a stop right in front of you and takes his helmet off, shaking his head to loosen his wavy locks.

"Keisuke?" you ask, wondering why he's here at this time of the night. You didn't tell him your late hours tonight, so how did he know? You see something strapped on the back of the bike and point at it. "Is that...a baseball bat?"

Baji tugs on your wrist, leaning out to beckon for a kiss. You grin and comply, giving him a quick peck. He answers your earlier curiosity, pulling the bat out and proudly holds it out to you. "Nice, isn't it. Here you go."

You raise an eyebrow at the twisted, rusty nails sticking out of the barrel and carefully ask, "Why?"

Baji grins wolfishly, dark eyes glinting. He revs out a buzzing beat like a bee doing a drumroll, flicking his wrist rapidly around the throttle and clutch. "Get on and you'll see. You know, you might want to put that bat away on public roads. You look so sexy holding it though, babe."

You chuckle and return the bat to him, taking the helmet he holds out to you instead. "Wasn't planning on helping you relive your bosozoku days."

He laughs. "Please, those are bygone times."

You swing your legs over back, positioning yourself in the comfy seat. After hearing the click of your helmet strap and feeling your arms wrapping around his waist, Baji takes off in a pop.

The bike cuts through the wind, weaving in and out of traffic. Left and right, right then left. The red brake lights from the cars are just a maze Baji takes you through. You look behind and it's a sea of blinking yellow. The beep and honks are muffled by Cockroach's roar.

"I thought you said you follow traffic rules now!"

"Did I? When have I ever!"

You stifle a laugh and press your face into Baji's back, hiding from the wind whipping onto your cheeks. He takes you far from the city, lights dimming into distant twinkles.

"You good?"

You give him a slight squeeze.

"Good. Hold on tight, sweetheart."

The gears shift. The throttle is cranked. Cockroach growls and whines.

"Where? Are? We? Going?" you yell at him, trying to get your voice above the bike's cackle. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, coming up into your throat and dropping back down.

"Told you! You'll see!" Baji yells back. He hoots loudly, taking you into warp speed. Like a comet zipping through, you leave behind a trail of fading red tail light.

"Keisuke!" you shriek, holding onto him tightly. You can't even see how fast you're going, the surroundings blurring together in dark shadows, but Baji's back, his solid body, you feel as though there's nothing to fear. All of the wind is blocked by him. All of your troubles, he takes you away from.

Baji kicks the gears back down and slows the bike as he turns into an abandoned junkyard and empty warehouse. He kicks the side stand and parks the bike. Baji pulls his helmet off, shaking his head and whistles. "Alrighty, we're here." He slides the helmet off from your head and laughs at your helmet-messed hair. Positively adorable.

Your legs feel wobbly, almost unused to walking on ground at this slow speed after zipping through the night. Baji pulls out the bat again and gives it a few testing swings.

"This is—"

Baji swings his arms open and gestures to the tall mound of crushed cars piled on top of one another. The metallic smell of rusting metal is heavy in the air. "Welcome, my dear, to a place beyond wonderland! Man, haven’t been back here in years!"

Your arms are folded over your chest and you point out what the wonderland actually is. "A junkyard."

"A special one too," he remarks and swings the bat into the windows of one of the cars. The shattered glass falls down like fresh snow. "You wanna try? There's a lot of pent up shit from work, right?"

Baji leads you around the corner where there's a relatively whole car, probably recently abandoned.

"Is this...okay?" You're unsure, but you still reach for the handle anyways. The old grip tape sticks to your palms. It'll probably stink later.

"Legal? Hell, no. But the police don't really come here...usually." He rests an elbow on the car trunk and gestures to a tall pile of rusting metal. "You know what happened here?"

"You...smashed cars?"

He nods and grins, flashing his fangs. "Yep! And I also got stabbed here." He points at his waist, where a nasty scar can be found under his dark clothing.

Your jaw falls open and Baji's smirk turns even wider. "What?!"

"You know the whole Halloween ordeal when I was 15?"

"You mean..." You survey the junkyard, currently quiet and just a tinge creepy, and turn back to Baji. Waving your arm, drawing in the air with the bat to gesture the entire yard, you're baffled. "That happened here?!"

He nods. "Oh yea. A terribly, shitty day." Baji moves away and gives you full clearance to your prey. "Wanna help me rewrite those memories?"

"Isn't this supposed to be my stress-relief moment?" The grip on the bat tightens.

"Yours and mine." He shrugs. "We can take turns and—"

The passenger window shatters like windchimes in a storm along with your yell. And the car alarm blares and protests.

Baji's a little surprised by how much force you put into that swing, seeing that the side mirror is taken out too. A huge smile spreads on his face and he sits back to watch your little solo. "That's my girl."

Argh!! You scream while bringing the bat down on the hood, denting the shiny metal in a valley with nasty crimps. The nails on the bat screech horribly, clawing its way through the paint finish. It's painful to your ears and music to your soul. "FUUUUCKK!!!!"

Baji hoots off to the side and finds a pipe from the rubble pile. He runs over and steps onto the roof of the car, holding his hand out to help you to the top. You stand on the roof and raise the bat over your head. "I FUCKING HATE THIS! GO TO HELL, ALL YOU MOTHERFCKERS!!! AHHH!!!"

The bat swings down like a guillotine. The windshield cracks into an elaborate snowflake, the head of the bat buried in the thick glass. You try pulling it out, twisting and tugging. "Shit!" you furrow your brows, irritated and stomp angrily on the roof, shaking the half-destroyed vehicle.

"I got you." Baji wraps his large hands over yours on the bat. His back and shoulders caging you against his body. He squeezes and yanks hard to free the bat. Fragments of glass fly out. Baji brings the bat back. "Annnd, we swing again."

The windshield is defeated. The remnants are scattered all over the expensive leather interior. Ooh, nice red trim, Baji thinks.

"Keep going," Baji encourages while he hops off the roof.

You don't even notice that he's gone, finishing your handiwork on the back window too, tearing the wiper off and smashing into the trunk. When Baji comes back, holding a dark gallon tank, the car is pretty much—totaled—completely chewed up by the bat and your rage. Your shoulders and chest heave up and down. Sweat clings to your skin. It's so rare to see you completely out of your inhibitions. How sexy.

He's about to help you down from the roof when you leap off yourself instead. Very sexy.

"I'm done," you say meekly, and lean your forehead against Baji's shoulder. "Bleh, bleh, bleh..."

"Okay, before we go let's do a final act." He takes the bat out of your hands and gently leads you a few meters away from the car. "Close your eyes and make a wish."

"Huh?" you ask, looking back towards him. "Wish? It's not even my birthday."

"Just do it!" He nudges your back a little more and shoves a 1 yen coin into your palm. "No peeking!"

You follow his instructions and close your eyes. Clasping your hands together around the small metal coin in this abandoned junkyard—this corner where you can just do whatever the hell you want. No one watching, no one judging. No pretending, no hiding. No tradition to follow, no norm to fit in with. You make a wish for evolution, change, and rebirth.

Strength.

You toss the coin back.

BOOM.

Your eyes fly open and you whip around to see a mad inferno blazing. The mountain of fire, orange and red, erupts in an angry trail. Black plumes blow up and disappear into the night sky. Baji runs up to you, and grabs your hand, fingers intertwined with yours. "No encore needed, princess. Let's go!"

"You're crazy!" you yell, running with him across the empty lot. Maybe it's his knack for trouble infecting you, but you're laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Baji turns his head to look at you, face illuminated by the distant fire's glow. "Love you too!"

Blaring sirens sound in the distance.

"OMG, Keisuke?! It's the police?!"

He ushers you on to the seat and plops the helmet on your head.

"Ah, shit. Definitely time to go, not staying for the curtain call." He starts up Cockroach. "Hold on."

Your arms are secured around his waist again as the bike revs and takes off. "I thought you said they wouldn't come," you hiss.

"I said usually. Besides—" he nods towards the flaming bonfire"—there's that this time."

The bike darts through the night, escaping the sirens that are becoming quieter and quieter. There's routes and paths in these areas that none of the officers would know. But Baji knows them all by heart. He takes you across an old bridge, distant city lights flashing between the industrial beams.

The adrenaline from the night slowly washes away. Baji kicks the gears down into a lazy cruise, the concluding coda of the night. Baji feels your arms relax and disappear from his waist. You're leaning against the custom, sandan seat with the high back support, hands secured on the side handles. The wind carries the smell of Baji's hair and faint traces of smoke.

"Keisuke!"

"Yea?"

A cheerful bliss blooms on your face. "Just wanna say your name. Keisuke, Keisuke, Kei, Kei, Kei."

Baji laughs and revs Cockroach playfully to accompany the rhythm.

Deciding to spare further damage to poor Cock's engine, you quiet down and relax against his back again.

"Keisuke?"

"Hm?"

"Kinda hungry, let's make a stop before home."

"Okay."

"Teach me how to ride sometime?"

"O-Of course!" he blurts out eagerly.

A flurry of thoughts fly through Baji's mind: the perfect place for the first lesson, the kind of bike design and features that you would love. It'll be a really cute one, maybe not super fast, but just perfect—and safe. Oh, definitely safe. He's so taken into this tangent that he doesn't hear the playful words you're telling him afterwards. He barely catches the last bit of "thank you" that you whisper into his back.

The air is fresh and crisp as he takes you down paths that seem untraveled. Cutting into the unknown with him doesn't seem so intimidating at all. The early hours past midnight stretch long, still young. The world is in a sustained pause—it's just you and him. Baji revs the engine. And Cockroach. 

You open your eyes and see the expanse of the night sky with real stars twinkling in its blanket. Like a rocket burning into space with all its might earlier, and now you're in orbit. 

#baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #emi.test #baji keisuke x y/n #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #baji keisuke #emi.freshtea #MTHFKCERS ALFK JEWLKFJAWKLFJAWLFKAWJF ALEWFJAWELFKJA #the bike is actuallllly nicknamed Cockroach LMAOLMAOLMAO it's in one of the trivias somewhere ADLFKAJ WELFKJAKLFJAL

[bontenten]

Bokeh

Pairing: Oikawa x f!Reader WC: 8.7k (i wrote your life story lmao) Genre/Tags: smut, fluff, invisible angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, long distance relationship, sexting, oral (f. receiving), mutual masturbation, use of sextoy, creampie, marriage proposal

Summary:  You viewed the world through your viewfinder, tunnel-visioned into composing the image of your design. But by viewing the world through your camera, you couldn't see that you took up the whole space within Oikawa's frame.

A/N: Happy belated, king, my heart’s prince. Plot with a lot of plot, dotted with some p0rn.

For as long as you could remember, it had always been you, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi. Oikawa would do something funny, Iwaizumi would chide him about it, and you would laugh off to the side. While the two of them grew to have their own passions with volleyball, you also found your way to seeing them behind the lens of your camera. Within this handheld machination, capturing light and turning those moments into memories, you sought to preserve the fleeting moments of happiness that the three of you were blessed to grow up with. 

Infinity and Beyond

“Do you think you can take pictures of aliens?” Oikawa asked, looking up from his sci-fi novel.

“Hm. If they exist, it’s not impossible," you replied absentmindedly, reviewing the photo you just took. “Increase shutter speed…..”

“Oooh, what if you actually caught photos of ghosts?” 

“Maybe?” You were still entirely focused on adjusting the setting on your camera. “Aperture…” 

“Oh, I almost forgot, could you take another photo of me?” Oikawa stuck his hand between your face and your camera to get you out of your zone.

“Shut up Boke! Stop distracting her. It’s time to get back to practice!” Iwaizumi scolded. His patience finally wore out, resulting in a good kick to Oikawa’s buttocks.

Snap. Per-fect, you mused to yourself. 

You grimaced slightly. Iwaizumi’s kicks were not to be taken lightly. You found your underclassman Kageyama standing beside you, unsure of what to do with the two bickering fools.  

You pointed at said pair and told the boy, “Don’t be like that, Kageyama, especially not their language.” You hoped that your influence would steer the boy on a path of goodness and virtue. Although, you would never come to know  that your little lecture was going to fall on empty ears as later on; the boy would, in fact, pick up on their language and tones...one-for-one. (Boke, Hinata, Boke!)

--

You scrutinized your camera and took another test image of Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi didn't care in particular, but Oikawa would happily pose for you. He never complained and you honestly thought he was vain like that, with his cheerful peace signs and quirky smiles.

"Get one of me looking into the distance! Ooh, absentmindedly eating ice cream. Wait, that was full body? No, retake it, I didn't pose!"

"I'm not even keeping these," you reminded him. "I'm just trying to play with the bokeh."

"But why not? I'm good looking..."

“Doesn’t that just mean dumb, like shittykawa here?” Iwaizumi asked in-between bites of ice cream. 

You laughed and put your camera away. "No, they just sound the same."

--

Bokeh was a photography term to describe those aesthetic blurs in the out-of-focus parts of a photo. Usually it was in the background, and with the right tools, it could look mesmerizing and magical. And like bokeh, middle school went by in a blur. 

The volleyball team suffered an agonizing defeat against Ushijima’s team. You received an award for “Most Dedicated Member” from the Journalism Club. All the photos that you have taken proved to be important for increasing community attention to the middle school volleyball team, and also boosted its popularity on-campus.

Games were often filled with curious classmates coming to watch the game, hoping to catch a live view of Oikawa's jump serves. No one knew what the true cost behind those magnificent serves was like. Oikawa punished himself with practice until his knee gave out, and you realized you could never really look at a photo of him midair without feeling a slight pang of something.

“Where are you all planning to head for high school?” Iwaizumi asked? 

“What Iwa-chan means to ask is, ‘Where WE are going',” Oikawa corrected. 

“What do you mean ‘we’? We haven’t even taken the entrance exams yet.” 

“I believe our brains well enough, we’ll stick together still...at Seijoh! They have a great volleyball and journalism club! A lot of their alumni have gotten into great programs and opportunities. Not time to break up just yet!” Oikawa declared. 

The Great King had spoken, and thus let it be so, for the next three years at Aoba Johsai.

The World is Big, But Our Dreams Are Bigger

You performed well on your high school entrance exam and received an arts scholarship. Both Oikawa and Iwaizumi also performed well on the exam and each received a sports scholarship. You were at first a bit confused why Oikawa didn’t end up going to Shiratorizawa, but he was adamant that he didn’t want to be in the same “dumb team as Ushi-baka” as he would so gently put it. You knew that another reason was because he just couldn’t really bear to part from the group he has grown up so closely with. Besides, Aoba Johsai’s volleyball team wasn’t weak either, like he said. And so, you got used and comfortable with “We” and “Us”. 

You found another circle of friends within the Journalism and Media Club. It was a large unit that had its influence from the school bulletin, to the weekly student papers, to the yearbook, and even extended its soft-power onto the student council. Needless to say, it was involved with anything and everything. In that large network, though, you found your little corner with the photography crew responsible for taking all the photos that went into those publications. Sure enough, you were part of the group responsible for documenting campus clubs and athletics.

The day-to-day at Seijoh passed by slowly. You noticed Oikawa and Iwaizumi seemed to grow taller by the day. And you would laugh, hideously, whenever the three of you joked around. Iwaizumi once mentioned that if you were to sell Oikawa's photos at school, you would reap a fortune. You brought up the idea to Oikawa, and expected him to fully agree, while asking for 50% of the revenue. To your surprise, he told you to do whatever you wanted, "as long as you keep a copy for yourself...in case of reprints." And that was how you made all your snack money throughout high school.

Oikawa, with his good looks and personality, easily found his way into a lot of people's "want to date" list. Iwaizumi once asked you if you would want to date Oikawa, considering how nearly half the population at Seijoh were lining up to deliver bentos and snacks and love letters to this boy. You immediately shot the idea down, flustered and embarrassed at the thought.

You vehemently exclaimed, "No way!"

Oikawa heard when he came around the corner. He just laughed and whined, "What, why not?"

You never answered,  and instead, turned and walked away in the opposite direction because you felt that if you didn't leave that hallway, your heart was about to burst.

Oikawa never asked why afterwards and Iwaizumi never brought it up again either.

--

"Are you sure you don't want to be our club manager?" Oikawa asked you while walking home after school. Neither of you had club activities that day.

"No? Do I seem like I want to mom the whole team?"

"But it'll be fun! Makki is sweet and Mattsun is funny. The others are great too! Iwa-chan's there too. And there's me!"

"Sounds like too much trouble. Besides, I already have my club stuff."

Oikawa slumped and followed your footsteps. "But I feel like we don't see you very often anymore!"

"That's because you're dating that girl in the other class," you let slip. It sounded like a complaint and you wish you could take it all back. "I mean, we're just all busy now."

But it was true! You also wanted to argue that you saw Iwaizumi way more than you did of Oikawa. At first it seemed like he was avoiding you, and then before you could figure out why, he announced that he had a girlfriend now (and that she was really cute). What's that got to do with you though.

A week later, Oikawa told you they broke up. It turned out that she dumped him because he spent too much time on volleyball. At least, that was the reason Oikawa told you. Iwaizumi didn't say anything.

You patted Oikawa on the back and told him not to get too bogged down about it all, and how he was popular and all, so he could definitely find someone. Oikawa threw his arms around you and squeezed you tight against him. He was wailing, and you thought that the boy was absolutely distraught, so you hugged him back, whispering words of praise and affirmations. Good riddance, you thought for a moment. Oikawa's hair was soft, and you realized you quite liked the texture when the two of you finally let go, but your hands were already accustomed to running through them.

--

Sometime after Oikawa's third break-up (this time you and Iwaizumi were completely unfazed), he asked you for a favor.

"Can you please come with me?" he begged, sliding the palms of his hands against one another in prayer. "I'll treat you to dinner after."

You stared at him quizzically, wondering if it was all a scam. And you convinced yourself that the only burst of joy you felt when you heard dinner was because you were a cheapskate and wanted good food.

"What do you need again?"

"I need to babysit Takeru and take him to volleyball class."

It wasn't the first time you met Oikawa's nephew or his older sister. The elder Oikawa was every bit as gorgeous as her little brother: long lashes, soft natural curls, and balanced facial features. Truly both of them won the genetic lottery. Even Takeru was probably going to grow up to become a little heartthrob, like his uncle.

You didn't realize it, but Oikawa picked up a passerby's whispers wondering if Takeru was a younger sibling or a son, to which the other gossiping auntie gasped. He wasn't going to tell you, but he was amused and he let his thoughts wander for just a moment.

You were taking pictures of Takeru, at the request of the boy's mother. You were more than happy to and you found Takeru's little habits to be so similar to his uncle's. You would know, of course you would know. Deep down even knew why, although you could not bring yourself to admit it to anyone else, not even Iwaizumi. You were convinced you especially couldn't tell Iwaizumi.

You viewed the world through your little viewfinder, tunnel-visioned into composing the image of your design. At the same time, that was how you missed the way Oikawa would stare at the tiny crinkles around your closed left eye when you were deep in focus. By viewing the world through your design, you couldn't see that you took up the whole space in Oikawa's frame.

Click.

Oikawa saved the photo he took on his phone into a folder deep within his memory.

All Good Things Come to An End. 

“And now I proudly present to you all, family and friends, the graduating class! In remembrance of our beloved school, let us sing our school anthem one last time.” 

Dispersed voices came together in unison, drowning out any choked sobs or shaky voices. You snuck out your camera to snap a photo of the now teary eyed Student President, and some of the teachers who stood to the side of the podium. 

After the end of the ceremony, you hugged all your club friends, took photos after photos. Portraits, Landscapes, Selfies. It was unknown when, if ever, you’ll all be able to meet together again after that day. And even then, no one would be the same anymore. The fantasy of the high school campus closed its curtains, sealing away all the good times, the bad times—the youthful times. 

You said your final goodbyes to the club members and went to look for the volleyball boys. They were first heard before they were found, already sobbing in a group together. Their underclassmen were also there to give gifts and express their congratulations. 

“Y/N!” Oikawa exclaimed, seeing you come up, and pulled you into their huddle. “I was wondering where you ran off too.” 

“Heh, you’re one to talk. You’re the one leaving us all tomorrow.” Iwaizumi remarked, biting his lip. Tears threatened to fall down his face. The volleyball team already had its own farewell party, but when did saying good-bye actually prepare the heart for parting? 

Your smile fell slightly as your eyes bore holes into the ground. That’s right, he was leaving tomorrow.

---

Third year had been a year where all of you got a major reality check. Perhaps you had grown too comfortable and content with Oikawa's presence to even consider a morning where you wouldn't be able to see him down the hallway.

After the painful and disappointing loss against Karasuno, the three of you began to focus on "the future" like all the other peers did. Volleyball and photography time became study sessions in the library as the third-years began to prepare for university entrance exams. None of you had really talked about goals at the time. It was a difficult thing, you felt. Maybe all of you were waiting for someone else to breach the topic first.

You brought it up first, because you had noticed that Oikawa wasn't keeping up with you or Iwaizumi during study sessions. His mind seemed to be occupied with something else. So, when you asked him if everything was alright, Oikawa decided he couldn't keep his secret any longer.

Argentina.

---

When you looked back up, you found Oikawa gazing intensely into your eyes. 

“Yea, but it’s not like we’ll lose touch with each other. You’re gonna have to block me after I spam call you at 3 AM.” Oikawa said, eyes not leaving yours. 

You felt your throat running dry, unable to follow up with anything witty. You only managed a weak chuckle at Oikawa’s attempt to bring humor into the mood. 

“How about we take some photos?” you suggested, redirecting everyone’s attention to the camera you were holding. You double checked the settings, and handed it off to Yahaba to help out. 

“Smile!” 

Click. Photos.

Click. The only thing you could do.

Click. The only fragments you could hold on to.

Click. The moments you want to last forever.

After photos, the three of you told the families to go home first, and instead headed to the park you three practically grew up in. You laughed as the two boys you grew up with tried to awkwardly fit themselves onto the kiddie slides. Their legs are much too long to actually maneuver around the elementary shapes. Iwaizumi pulled one-armed chin-ups while Oikawa tried to distract him. You crouched with them through the plastic mazes and tried communicating through the talk tubes on either side of the playground. It didn't really work because Oikawa was being too loud and you heard him before his voice even went through the tube.

You were reviewing some of the photos when you found Oikawa and Iwaizumi sitting at the swings, conversing about something you couldn't hear. Oikawa would briefly look at you every now and then, his face slightly flushed,

After spending all this time with him, you had already noticed and seen all of Oikawa Tooru's little ticks and behaviors. And maybe before today, you thought you would be able to see them forever. But there were no forevers and all things had to come to an end.

He’s leaving, he’s leaving, he's leaving.

“Hey, get over here, I’ll take some photos of you two,” Iwaizumi called out to you. 

Oikawa wasn't looking at you when you came over and sat down on the swing where Iwaizumi was sitting. You handed over your camera and looked at Oikawa. His ears were burning and his shoulders were shaking.

"Oikawa?"

He didn't respond.

"Crappykawa?" You tried again, "Is everything okay?"

No, he wanted to tell you. No, nothing was okay.

You felt nervousness gnaw away at your insides and didn’t notice that the young man next to you was being tortured even more so. And neither of you noticed Iwaizumi's furrowed brows fall into an exasperated smile as he snapped away at the photos of you and your loving gaze at his best friend. Or the small side-eye Oikawa gave you when you were talking to Iwaizumi instead.

Only Iwaizumi knew. Only he knew, since long before either of you ever even realized it or bothered to admit it. And once you saw the photos, you would probably understand everything. Because the camera wouldn't lie.

--

You couldn’t sleep at all that night, flipping through photos throughout your hard drive, digging through boxes, and troubleshooting your photo printer.

Meanwhile, Iwaizumi sighed as he listened to Oikawa's circular rambles. Every few minutes, Iwaizumi would ask Oikawa if he was done packing yet, to which Oikawa would huff and complain that Iwaizumi wasn't listening to the point. What was the point? The point was that Oikawa missed his chance, decided he wasn't going to say anything, and was still unsure.

The sun peaked out behind the hills already when you finally finished—a photo book of the best photos you’ve taken of the three of you since the first day you’ve had a camera. 

Today was the day. Oikawa was leaving. You and Iwaizumi also got up early to join Oikawa’s parents in sending him to the airport. 

Let’s send him off with a smile, you thought. 

With so many people around you, you didn't get a chance to talk to him in private. He was in a comfortable outfit and he looked as though he was just going on a weekend trip. It was going to be a trip with many, many weekends. Even if it were just the two of you, you didn't know what to say. You had so much to tell him and also absolutely nothing.

It was Oikawa who broke the silence. "Take care of yourself."

"Yea, I will. You too."

Oikawa took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, in a way he didn't have to before matches anymore.

"So, I guess it's good-bye," you whispered. "You—"

Oikawa took out a small package from his backpack and handed it over to you. "Don't open it until you get home," he instructed. "Do you have something for me?" he asked, peering at the book you had tucked under your other arm.

You handed it over to him. "Yea...I left empty pages too."

Oikawa smiled. "Thanks."

Oikawa didn't know that he had opened his arms out inviting you close until you had stepped forward and hugged him; tightly, like the moments after Oikawa was dumped, all the times matches didn't go the way he wanted, and all other times just because. You didn't register what you were doing until you felt his arms wrap around you and heard his voice right next to your ear. "We'll see each other again. I promise."

"Yea..." You had no idea when again would happen, if ever.

You watched Oikawa go past the security check, watched the boy you grew up with and came to love but couldn't confess to, walk away. His shoulders were broad. They were strong. You knew he must also be nervous, leaving everything he has known behind to start new, but you also believed in him and his dreams.

---

Oikawa hadn't even made it onto the plane yet when he opened the photo book you gave him. He traced the edges where the glue had slightly seeped out the corners of the photos and followed the scribbles of the short descriptions you included. He chuckled over a line where you ran out of ink in the pen you were using and had to switch to another, and at a different line where you failed to spell his name correctly even after crossing it out twice. And in the corner you  wrote: ran out of white out lol sorry.

He turned to the blank pages at the end and imagined what sort of life would present itself on those pages. Would you be in them? Could he fill them all with memories?

“Gate B13 now boarding Group 2.” The loudspeaker interrupted the moment. Oikawa packed your gift away and stood up, preparing to line up for boarding. For better or for worse, he was going to Argentina.

“Are you going to say anything to her?” Iwaizumi had asked him at the park. Oikawa was looking at you in the distance, busy taking photos oblivious that you were being talked about. 

“I thought about it, but I don’t know. I don’t want to keep her waiting. But I don’t want her with someone else either. I don’t know if I can give her what she deserves,” Oikawa admitted, pulling something out of his pocket to show his best friend. 

Iwaizumi glanced at the item and replied, “How about letting her make that call for herself?”

--

The plane took off, climbing higher and higher. Oikawa peeked out the airplane window and watched his hometown grow smaller and smaller, farther and farther, until everything was swallowed by white clouds. “I hope I made the right choice”. 

On the subway home, you wanted nothing more than to grab the small package safely tucked in your backpack and rip it open to see what it was all about. You were getting impatient and antsy. 

“Don’t even think about it, you heard what Oikawa said.” Iwaizumi warned you. Why did it sound like he also knew what was going on? 

You grumbled and stopped fidgeting. The moment you stepped into your house, you ran up the stairs to your room, and took the package out. The crisp edges of the wrapping paper were evident in how careful Oikawa had packaged it. You thought back to the rushed, botched job of your photo album and furrowed your brows. Turning your attention back to the box, you slowly untucked the wrapping paper, revealing a small box. You lifted the lid off and stared at the contents.  

A button. The engravings were undeniably familiar—the crest of Seijoh. It was on every student’s uniform jacket. You noticed a folded letter beneath the button and carefully slipped it out to read the contents. It was addressed to you and your fingertips were already tracing the strokes that made up your name. Oikawa had such pretty handwriting, and you never grasped just how beautiful your name looked in his penmanship.

I probably should have given this to you in person. But I really didn’t have the guts to do so, and I wasn’t sure if you would just start crying like a baby again. Seriously one of these days your sobs will drown your camera! I don’t know how you’ll respond...forgive me for being a coward and running away to the other side of the globe! Don’t miss me all the time! Just a little bit sometimes, I hope you'll think of me when you see this button. In case you’re wondering, it’s not just a spare I had laying around. I like you, I'm sorry I waited until now to tell you.

You picked up the button and ran your hand across the detailing, as tears began to well and stream down your face. It was the second button on his uniform. A confession. 

You liked him too. It had always been there, always been mutual. 

Feelings left from graduation haven’t subsided yet. Feelings from saying goodbye to one of you adored haven’t faded. And no matter how many drafts you formulated on your phone to send to him, it was too late now. He was going to be on the other side of the world.

“Shittykawa, you fucker. How many hours do I have to wait before you’ll even be able to see the message”. You wondered, burying your face further into your pillow. You wondered if the two of you were, despite mutual feelings, simply never going to be.

Five-Hundred Twenty-five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

Right after the call you had with Oikawa and somehow became a "thing", Oikawa panic-called Iwaizumi and asked if it was going to be a bad idea. The two of you were on either side of the world, he was going to be so busy with practice, and you were going to meet plenty of new people on campus. Iwaizumi groaned and did his best to appease his friend, analyzing worst and best case scenarios. Internally, Iwaizumi was pulling his own hair out, frustrated. Just frustrated. He even gave Hanamaki and Matsukawa a heads up to be careful should Oikawa call them.

"Be prepared. He won't let you hang up. Not even for you to take a shit."

You didn't feel anything different being in a relationship with Oikawa. With him so far away, each call was more like catching-up with a friend rather than a boyfriend (you've known him for so long after all), but slowly, you grew used to this long-distance dynamic. There weren't many hours in a day when both of you were awake, and between the busy schedules of both of you, time together was especially scarce. And because it was scarce, it was precious.

There was that one time you fell asleep on video call with him. Oikawa was talking and soon realized you stopped responding, snoring softly without a care in the world. When you opened your eyes, it was because you heard yells coming from your laptop telling you to wake up or you would be late for class. That was when you realized, looking at the total call time, that Oikawa hadn't hung up.

Another time, you showed him a tour of your campus when the cherry blossoms bloomed. As you held your camera out and panned around the shower of pink petals, you told him that one day you two would come here together. Oikawa told you there was a Japanese garden in Argentina, the Buenos Aires Japanese Garden, and that the cherry blossoms there were just like home. He told you that one day he would show you around that place, and insisted that it was a great photo spot. Through the camera, Oikawa showed you the seasons of Argentina and you fed him the flavors of home.

--

You were once in the middle of changing when you saw that Oikawa sent you a photo. He was shirtless on the sand, drink in hand looking like a beach model. You couldn't help but zoom in on the picture to look at how toned his abs had become, blinking at the faint hairs that made up a happy trail, disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. He was...so hot. And you want him to know how much you wanted him at that moment.

You pulled your skirt down and knelt down in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, throwing the weight of your body to the left and to the right, finding an angle you felt the best in.

Click. You knew you looked good.

Click. And you knew how to work the lighting to your best favor.

Oikawa, on the other side of the world, nearly spat his drink out when he saw the photos you sent over to him. He sputtered and felt his hands turn into goo as his brain short-circuited for a moment at the sensuous expressions and poses within the dimensions of his phone. His teammate asked him if he was okay and Oikawa just shrugged and said "yea I'm okay". Only he would know, he was absolutely not okay, and soon pulled out a beach towel to cover the straining bulge pressing against his shorts.

He glanced at his phone, half-worried that someone else was going to see. You didn't send anything afterwards and Oikawa was left thirsty for more.

Holy shit 😳

When you came out of your shower and checked your phone again, you saw the message and accompanying photos. A newfound burst of shy and excited giggles bubbled from your chest.

--

You were laying on your side, cradling the phone connected to the charger. Oikawa smiled when he saw you yawn on the video call.

"Had a good night's sleep?"

"Yea," but I wish you were here or something. "How was practice? Did you have dinner yet?"

"I just saw the moon after practice, it's so bright and luminous tonight!"

You rolled onto your stomach. "I know, I saw it yesterday."

Oikawa laughed and ran his hand through the hair you wanted to touch so badly. "So I'm a thing of the past, for you, huh?"

"Stop, that's so stupid, no."

"I'll catch up to you. Next month."

"What?"

"I'm going to visit home next month to sort out some visa stuff."

--

Oikawa came back to visit for the first time in December. You left class early to meet him at the airport. Iwaizumi told you that he had an exam and would meet up for dinner instead. While you checked the monitors for the status of his plane, you saw countless people meeting with their loved one. Some ran up to each other, hugging, kissing...They took the luggage for their others and walked hand in hand, catching up about their lives. You wondered how you should react when you saw Oikawa. Would he be excited to see you? This was the first time seeing him in person as his girlfriend. How much enthusiasm was enough and not overbearing?

You didn't have time to figure that out because suddenly your vision went dark.

"W-what?" Your hands flew up to your face and felt the hands covering your eyes.

"Guess who~" a teasing voice sounded next to your ear. His voice rang so clear, unlike the way it would warp over the phone. And you could feel his breath on your cheeks. Real, hot air.

You turned around and faced him, processing the man who stood in front of you. He was even taller than when he left. Hair a bit shorter than before, but the same beautiful eyes sparkled at you. Suddenly, you felt shy and deferred back to the old way you would address him. "Oikawa."

"Tooru," he blurted out.

"Huh?" You felt your throat turn dry and your heart pound.

"Well because...I'm your boyfriend right?" You already called him Tooru over the phone before, what happened? Oikawa felt the word boyfriend roll awkwardly off his tongue. He had introduced himself as so-and-so's boyfriend countless times before, but telling you in-person...declaring himself as your boyfriend made it all feel so different. He wondered if you would accept him as such, considering he wasn't there with you for the first few months. Have you met someone else? Were you not happy? He was too scared to find out.

"Do you have all your bags, Tooru?"

"Huh?" It was now his turn to blank.

"Let's go."

"Oh."

The first few steps were awkward as Oikawa tried to match your strides. But it didn't take long before the two of you walked on the same beat and Oikawa felt the surge of confidence to reach for your hand. You smiled and laced your fingers with his, feeling his physical presence with you. It felt long overdue and new, but it felt right.

--

You traced his tan lines; he had several of them, the one on his collarbone and those curving in next to his chest. There was one that was horizontal at his waistline. When your hand roamed over, palming the outline of his cock, he groaned and tilted your face towards him so he could kiss his passions away.

"You're beautiful."

For such a long time, you were the vision of his daydreams, and the temptation of his nights. He couldn't believe that the body he got to hold, the supple flesh that would quiver under his lips belonged to you. Your skin was warm and real.

"So sweet, thank you for the meal," Oikawa whispered before kissing and suckling your clit.

His fingers dipped into you, curling just the way to have your whole body shudder. Your fingers remembered the feeling of Oikawa's hair. While they were entangled within those locks, you felt your whole body squirm, as you rasped and moaned his name, creaming all over his tongue.

Being with Oikawa in-person almost scared you, because you suddenly realized the extent of your attachments to him. You didn't want to think about the day after, when he was going to have to leave again, only wanting to let the current moment linger for as long as possible.

Your hands tightly held onto his biceps as he inched his length into you, stretching your pussy open around his girth. It felt so good to have him filling you, feeling so close and tight, his warmth blended with your wetness.

His kisses were tantalizing and slow, coaxing your soft lips open so you could taste how much he missed you, wanted you.

"T-Tooru, Tooru—" you pleaded out to him as he thrust into you over and over again. Oikawa swung your legs over his shoulders and pressed your knees to your chest, sinking even deeper. The tip of his cock prodded that delicious, spongy spot, making you cry out his name as if those were the only syllables you knew. Each time his hips rutted against you, all the more closer and ever so tighter, you squeezed around him. His desperate pants sounded next to your ears and hot breath mixed in the same space as yours.

When you cuddled next to him, body tucked perfectly with his, you knew that the upcoming good-bye was going to be even more painful than the last. You counted your breaths with the rise and fall of his chest and dreamed of a time you two wouldn't have to part. Oikawa was thinking the same. He adjusted your head position carefully so you wouldn't wake up with a sore neck. His touch was so delicate as to not wake you from your slumber. Although he felt the pull of sleep, he didn't want to if it could mean holding you for a moment longer.

--

As though one good-bye with your lover wasn't enough, your other best-friend told you he was going to fly across the Pacific as well. After Iwaizumi left for California to continue his studies, you looked at your circumstances and wanted to do the best you could. But the internship you were so close to landing didn't happen and the subsequent interview resulted in silence. You knew you just had to keep working hard and keep trying, the same way Oikawa and Iwaizumi were both working towards their ambitions.

It was just a bad day and on a day like that, you missed Oikawa even more. Seeing the happy couples huddled together on the streets made you cross your arms tighter, imagining the arm around you was someone else's.

You didn’t want him to know, because he probably missed everyone more, being alone in a new place. So on video, you hid behind a pillow you were hugging and the dim lights. You thought he wouldn't notice anything. But he did.

“Are you crying?” he asked incredulously and partly wondered if he had done something to make you upset.

You whimpered and sniffled.

His normally exciting voice slowed into a gentle stream. "Baby, what happened? Can you tell me?"

“I miss you Tooru," you mumbled, burying your face into the pillow. "I want to see you again."

Argentina was exactly 12 hours behind Japan. Time conversion was so easy, but the distance in-between wasn’t quite as simple. Oikawa felt powerless when he heard and saw you break down on the other side of the screen. He had no practice that day, a whole day to himself, but even then he could not visit you. He hated himself for it.

You only realized that you had fallen asleep when you opened your eyes and found sunlight filtering through the blinds.

"Morning."

You rubbed your eyes, thinking you must be crazy to hear Oikawa's voice first thing in the morning.

"Mwua, that's your good morning kiss."

You finally looked at your laptop, still on since the call last night. The timer in the corner showed that the total call time was 6 hours, 42 minutes, 38 seconds and counting.

"Tooru? You didn't hang up again?"

"No, I creepily watched you sleep. Your little snores are so cute." He saw you looking at him and brought up a fork of his dinner to the camera. "Say ahh."

You smiled. "Ahh."

He grinned and swallowed it all in one bite. It was such a silly game, but it made you feel happy and connected. Later that day you received a series of screenshots Oikawa took of you while you were sleeping, all decorated with sparkly bokeh frames and sappy filters. He even edited one of himself "sleeping" right next to you.

Oikawa knew he could've done a better job, but he also knew you would definitely laugh at his poor photo skills. He was right. You laughed. And he heard it in his heart, 12 hours away.

--

Despite the difficult moments, you also found strength. You made new friends and learned new skills as you worked hard on your studies. The poster advertising Spanish lessons caught you eye and you even began dreaming and planning. Oikawa was just as excited and the two of you even spent video dates helping one another. It felt as though each new vocab learned belonged to both of you.

Occasionally, you met up with Oikawa's older sister and hung out with Takeru at the park. You took a photo of him and smiled upon seeing the boy's eyes sparkle when he played volleyball. Takeru reminded you of your Tooru. Oikawa's sister saw your adoring gaze and thought about her younger brother. Having watched you, Tooru, and Hajime grow up, she thought of all of you as her younger siblings. And she only wanted the best and the happiest for all of you. Deep down, she already had a feeling that if you weren't already family, you were definitely going to be. One day. 

In fact, Takeru would refer to you as "aunt" when talking about you in private already. Once, Takeru even let that slip out during a voice-call with Oikawa, saying, "Auntie is the best, I love her so much". Oikawa's sister then saw how her younger brother laughed, eyes waning into crescents and cheeks flushed. She told him that he should really consider where he wanted this relationship to go. His serious response and his unshaken voice held the same conviction when he had announced to the family over the dinner table that he was going to go to Argentina. And he certainly went to Argentina.

--

Your phone shook in your tight grip as you drew circles on your clit. Your toes were curling and digging into the sheets while your eyes were fixed on the lit-up screen, looking at Oikawa's body tremble. His face was flushed red, as he continued to pump his cock in-front of his camera. His thigh muscles would flex then relax and tighten once more.

"Let me hear you too, let me hear your voice."

His voice was needy and desperate. With the speaker near your ear, you imagined him right next to you, his cock, pressed up in your cunt, stretching you open. You mewled and rocked the dildo in, pressing the silicone head against your g-spot. The squelches from the lube and your own arousal were picked up by the mic and Oikawa fisted himself faster, imagining your tight walls clenching around him.

"Tooru, ah, I want your cock in me. Fuck—" You let go briefly, panting and catching your breath for a moment. You glanced at Oikawa on the screen, biting his bottom lip to muffle his moans and grunts. You could see how his hips bucked into his hands, the tip of his cock red and dripping.

You let go of the phone and used that hand to rub your clit while you thrust the dildo in and out with the other, chasing the edge.

"Cum with me, Tooru. Gonna cum—"

He moaned your name, trailing the last syllables in a quiet whine. His movements became faster, more erratic, until he emptied his load across his abdomen, covering his hands with sticky, white fluid. While you came down from your high, you watched Oikawa wipe himself of his cum that you wished were spurt into you instead.

You sipped some water and told him that, earning a series of flustered stutters, laughs, and a low growl asking you to be responsible for the cock that was hard again. You laughed and told him that in a few months, you would personally come to Argentina to suck him off. He thought it was a funny joke, until he realized that you were being very much serious.

"But doesn't the semester start then?"

"Idiot, did you forget? I was studying Spanish to come to Argentina for junior-year abroad."

"Oh my god, I forgot..I'm sorry about that. Wait, so..."

You smiled. "Tooru, my love, see you soon."

Oikawa's elation made your grin even wider.

"Can't wait to bounce on your dick," you teased. "Okay, I gotta go shower and head out. Bye!"

"HEY! That was so—" You hang up, laughing at how Oikawa must be feeling at that moment.

You quickly received a flurry of pictures and messages. A photo of his erection with an angry face drawn on the tip demanding for you to help made you cackle as you kicked your feet and rolled around on your mattress. And the messages that followed had your cheeks feeling hot and body excited for Argentina. For him.

On Top of the World

This time, Oikawa waited for you at the internationals arrival area. He couldn't sleep the night before, tracking the location of your plane every other hour. His teammates had to tell him to shut-up the nth time he mentioned, "Hey did I tell you my girlfriend is coming tomorrow?" He arrived at the airport a whole hour early, flowers in hand, he was going to dip you into a kiss like the movies.

The status on the board changed, your plane landed. Oikawa paced around the waiting area, impatient and excited. He had dinner plans all thought out, his apartment was all cleaned out, he had so much to tell you so much to hear from you.

He saw you on the small monitor showing passengers leaving customs. Oikawa made sure he was standing at the front, dead-center. You couldn't possibly miss him. You didn't miss him. When you turned around the corner of the white walls, the first face you saw was him and your face lit up.

"Tooru!" You let go of the large suitcase you carried, strides widening as you practically jumped into his arms. His body was solid and real, you couldn't help but think: this is what happiness is like.

--

Oikawa told you about the shops he frequented often, pointed out landmarks that you’ve seen in photobooks, and gladly got down low to capture your best angles for photos. Cityscapes merged with classical architecture. Asphalt transformed into winding, stone-paved paths. Food was in every corner and the musical sounds of Buenos Aires echoed, flowing through the empty spaces, breathing the city with life. Through Oikawa’s stories, you saw Argentina through his lens. You could almost imagine him a few years ago, barely nineteen, wandering through these maze-like streets alone.

At night, you and Oikawa were at a local bar he would frequent. Across the street, a musician played out a rhythmic tune, the strong tango beat absolutely thralling and infectious. A pair of street dancers took to the center, arms linked, feet in sync. Their steps were quick, accurate, and full of vigor. It was a sort of synthesis between musician and dancers; and the push and pull of the dancing partners, a dialogue of passion. You were so mesmerized by their movements, you didn’t even take out your camera to capture this scene. But Oikawa already captured an image of you instead.

One the way back to Oikawa’s apartment, you mentioned the dance to him, how the male dancer’s fluid movements were so graceful yet grounded at the same time, and the female dancer whose footwork seemed so effortless and sharp.

“We can too!” He laughed and raised your hand above your head to twirl you around on the old, empty streets of Buenos Aires. Oikawa didn’t know how to tango. He didn’t know how to dance, but his arm rested gently on your waist, already familiar with the contours of your body. And your breath was in tune with his. 

--

Living with Oikawa also came with its own set of challenges. You had your classes at the university and an internship to head off to. He had his practice with his team. Both of you were busy individuals and on top, had lived alone for quite some time.

“Where’s the toilet paper?”

“Y/N, did you forget and put my jersey in the dryer again…”

At some point, your habits and his rituals clashed and grated. What did you expect?

“Why are you taking so long?”

“Fuck! Tooru, toilet seat down after you piss.”

As much as you wanted to rip his pretty head off, he probably wanted to kick you in the shins too.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Anything.”

“Matambre?”

“Not feeling it.”

“Sushi?”

“Didn’t we have that two nights ago?”

“Okay, so what do you want for dinner?”

“Anything’s fine.”

“Oh. My. God. Okay, I’m picking then.”

“Wait. Actually, let’s just get burgers.”

“...”

Often, it was really stupid. And an hour later, both of you would feel even dumber for arguing about it in the first place. But just like how water running over rocks would polish the surface into pebbles, time together taught you about him and taught him about you.

It occurred to you one day that the juice container in the fridge always had juice. And when you reached into the cabinet, the first one you would find would be the mug you always loved to use. 

Oikawa would wake up from a nap, yawning, but still dragging himself to the kitchen to fix a snack, only to find his favorite already on the counter with a note attached. He would tell himself that the lightbulb in the bathroom blew again and that he would have to add that to the to-do list after the stressful competition. But when he went into the bathroom, the lights lit brighter than ever.

Somehow, new habits started forming and new rituals became the norm.

--

Oikawa’s hands trailed from your hips to your ass, kneading the soft flesh and stabilizing you as you fucked yourself on his cock. Your hands were planted on his abs, fingertips digging into the ridges of his muscles. Oikawa drove his hips up to meet you, driving the tip deeper within each time his skin slapped against yours. Perspiration dotted your hairline as your breasts continued to jiggle and bounce from your movements, wet squelches echoing off the apartment walls.

Oikawa loved seeing you ride him like this, displaying your whole body and desires for him. He thought your silhouette in the dim light was so incredibly beautiful and erotic. You seemed surreal, almost like a seductress in a dream, but your soft, pliant body and your delicious mewls told him you were very much right there with him.

His thumb came over to your clit to rub the sensitive nub, making your whole body shudder.

“Ah, Tooru!” You felt the pads of his fingertips draw out wave after wave of pleasure, each stronger than the last. Oikawa seemed to sparkle between your tear-stained vision. His flushed face and messy yet perfect hair melted into blurs.

“That’s it. Fuck, you feel so good—”

You collapsed onto his torso, arms linking around his neck. Feeling your weight on him gave him so much comfort and reassurance. His lips captured yours in a searing kiss, and he pulled your body close, pressing you tight against him.  While Oikawa held you, feeling your breasts push against him with every breath you took, he thought he could feel your heartbeat against his own.

Oikawa mercilessly pounded into you beyond your orgasm. Your hands gripped his hair and you rasped into the breathy kiss as you felt Oikawa’s cock twitch before he came hard, filling you with his seed.

Oikawa still couldn’t believe he could have you all to himself for a whole year in Argentina. It seemed like a long time, but each moment with you seemed to fly by faster than he had ever expected. In a blink of an eye weeks have passed already and he tried hard not to think about “later”.

His lips pressed butterfly kisses on your brow, your taste both salty and sweet. He mumbled his adoration for you through his breaths. They were just words, but Oikawa poured himself truthfully into every syllable. By action or by words, he did everything to make sure you knew. Oikawa Tooru didn’t just half-ass things. If he were to love you, he would love you all the way.

“Yes Tooru, I love you too,” you murmured against his lips while relaxed on his body. His cock was still resting in your, comfortable and tucked between your tight muscles; the same way your body fit perfectly right between Oikawa’s arms.

In the darkened room, with just the noise of cars from the streets outside, and the whirr of the fridge from the kitchen, a real thought crossed your mind and his. 

Forever. A real forever.

--

It was a month and a half before you had to go back to Japan. The two of you were lazing on a picnic blanket on the open grass-field. Oikawa was telling you about practice and what the season was going to be like. Then the conversation became about the faucet that was leaking in his apartment and the boiler that the landlord still hadn't gotten fixed yet. You mentioned your thoughts about the other apartments that Oikawa was considering upgrading to: not glamorous by any means, but just a smidge better and closer to the training gym.

You handed a pastafrola to Oikawa and took one for yourself. The lattice design and the rich, colorful filling was sweet and delicious. They were made by a grandpa who lived a floor below Oikawa. He would often give the two of you his baked goods and snacks. And there were also the other people who lived along that neighborhood street you came to call friends. A year was a long time, and a whole year with Oikawa made you feel like Buenos Aires could be home. Because you found home with Tooru. And Tooru found home in you.

The summer night was like when you had first arrived. The night was long and endless. The sound of the street band could be heard in the distance. While laying on the blanket, gazing at the stars that were starting to come out, you felt Oikawa's hands reach for yours. You liked playing with his fingers. They were long, strong yet delicate and gentle. He wove his finger with yours and called out your name. You turned to look at him, the shape of him still visible in the low lights.

"Let's get married."

"Okay." You didn't even register what he suggested. Oikawa couldn't begin to describe how he felt when you said "okay" so nonchalantly. It took a lot out of him to muster out his courage to propose this and it sounded like you were agreeing to have take-out for dinner. He was too nervous to even bring out the photo book you had gifted to him when he first left Japan...the photo book with the remaining pages filled with his pictures of you.

"I picked out the ring we saw last time..." he suggested, trying to gauge your reaction, "if it doesn't fit, or if you don't like it, we can figure out something else..."

"Okay." That's when it hit you, and things started to click together, just barely. Oikawa could sense your breath becoming quicker and he felt a surge of bravery come over him.

"Marry me," he said again. He was asking you to be in the same picture as him moving forward. This time louder. This time clearer. "Would you let me have the honor of becoming your husband?"

Tooru. Husband.

"Tooru..." your voice wavered slightly before you composed yourself. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

And with your permission, Oikawa Tooru felt as though he was on top of the world.

The band on your finger felt cool, the sensation on your lips was soft, and your heart filled with too many emotions. Up above, the stars seemed to blur together like fragments of bokeh.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader smut #oikawa smut #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu smut #oikawa tooru #emi.freshtea #🍵.oikawa #rip i didn't make it on time #this was a multichap wip from oct 2020 #and lemme tell you the first draft fic evar i know special moments eh #had an outline of multichaps for bokuto oikawa and kuroo but ended up writing out bokuto's #did a spinoff drabble on my main #and finally got a chance to smash this bb out yayyyy #im kinda proud of this oneeee #even though i totally cut out so much of the last half HAHAHAHAHAAH #he is king and my heart's prince

[bontenten]

Sleeping Beauty

Pairing: Shirabu x f!reader WC: 5.6k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairy tale retelling, incest, dubcon/noncon, drugs (sleeping pill), somnophilia, abusive past relationship, implied rape (not Shirabu), panic attack, victim-blaming, hero-complex with a bit of god-complex, hints of yandere, uhh medical malpractice, Shirabu’s bangs

Summary: The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. Shirabu will do everything he can to keep you in a safe haven where you can freely dance with your prince once upon a dream.

A/N: This is a part of the whorehouse intoxicated collaboration, rest of the pieces of this toxic journey can be found here! Thank you Ria and Angel for helping beta <3 Love you both so much.

Unofficial bgm: Once Upon a Dream & Once Upon a December 

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers, pulling you back by a handful of hair. You feel a blanket of pain shoot across your scalp. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

"G-get away from me!" 

You thrash and kick your legs wildly hoping something will land. The moment you hear a pained grunt and feel his grip loosen, you scramble up to your feet and run. Your shoes grate against wet cement as you take off. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you will your legs forward one after another. The caw of birds seem to act as a beacon leading you through the twists and turns of the terrain.

A left turn here, two blocks straight. Past the corner store and beyond the stoplight. Three blocks. Right turn. Two Blocks. Five steps away. Four...Three..Two...Safety...

----

"In the forest, the princess played with a lot of animal friends. She grew up there in the cottage with three fairies looking after her."

Thunder claps and lightning strikes outside.

"It's so loud Kenjirou-nii!" you cry, burying yourself into Shirabu's arms.

"Shh, I'm here," Shirabu coos, rocking you back and forth until your sobs subside. "One day, the princess was singing with the songbirds..."

Shirabu begins to recount the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty to you, slowly easing your mind away from the turbulence outside.

"Do you think you can sleep now?"

You shake your head and jump again when the thunder claps over the roof of the house.

"It's okay, I'm right here. Big brother’s always going to protect you."

"Like the prince protecting the princess?"

"Yes, exactly. You're always my princess, now go to sleep. I'll wake you when the sun's up.”

After a while, you calm down and slowly drift into sleep with your breaths evening out. Shirabu pulls the covers over both of you and enters sleep as well.

The winds continued to howl outside the window...the branches tapping...tapping against the window...tap...tapping…

----

Shirabu Kenjirou opens his eyes. He had just fallen asleep while studying for the third time that night. There is no use staying at the library if he is going to treat it as a hotel; he’ll be better off going home first. He yawns and stretches his neck, then packs his bags to return to his apartment. There are few students left in the building at this ungodly hour. Dark clouds loom overhead and the air is filled with the pitter patter of autumn rain hitting cement. Shirabu zips up his coat, opens his umbrella, and walks into the dark.

You would have been so frightened by this sort of weather, whimpering under your blankets, counting sheep with shaky breaths. Just like how you did in that dream of his earlier.

While growing up, Shirabu hadn't cared all that much about anything else considering he spent most of his time with his studies or playing volleyball. Although there was you, his little sister, he figured you had your little bubble anyway. But on a stormy night, you teetered down the hall after finding your parent’s room locked. Afraid and sleepy, you looked for comfort elsewhere and arrived at Shirabu’s room.

Shirabu had been most irritated and decided to shoo you out with strings of curses and profanities, but he couldn’t. The sight of your form huddled right outside his bedroom, with young eyes pleading for him took hold of a bit of humanity in Shirabu’s heart. So, he let you into his room, a safe haven, and eventually a world that was composed of only the two of you against the rest of the world.

Shirabu has known for a long time that you are the most brilliant, precious, and purest thing he’ll ever encounter. Always perfect. Forever unsullied. 

There are many things that Shirabu wants to shield you from. If he can secure one more hour of innocence, one more day, one lifetime, he’ll do so without a moment of hesitation. The real world is unlike the fairy tales that you hear about while growing up. 

The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. There isn’t a handsome prince the princess meets in a forest. No color changing cake. No kiss of love. In the real story, the princess is put into an endless slumber and has her virginal body taken by some unknown beast of a king, used like a rag for his carnal pleasure. When he leaves, the sleeping girl is then forgotten like trampled daisies under the hooves of horses. And she will wake to find her womb bulged with bastard life as a result of the damnation. The stretches clawing around the navel as permanent reminders that nothing will wash him from her.

The real world is dark. Horrible. Wretched. Dirty. Filled with suffering. That is why he, Shirabu Kenjirou, responds to the call to action and enters a life of service. In his heart he yearns to save and help, even if just a little, by becoming a prince with a white coat. He will not give up trying to salvage pieces of humanity he’ll touch, and in the process, carve out a haven, a little forest with a cottage, for his dearest sister to safely live in.

It has been a while since he last heard from you. Partly his own fault, really. Ever since Shirabu entered university and then medical school, the number of times you two would meet up dwindled. The hours on the phone became texts and soon after, communication vanished into mostly silence.

You are in university now, grown up and stepping into the real world, but that doesn't mean you are no longer his little sister. And because you are the one and only, Shirabu feels that he should try to do a better job as an older brother and check-in with you to see how you are doing. So, Shirabu takes out his phone that’s still on silent after studying.

27 missed calls from Sister 

Shirabu pauses in his tracks and returns the call. Cars zoom by on the streets while he waits for the line to connect. 

He was right, you must have been frightened.

The first call doesn’t connect, so Shirabu immediately tries the second time. You pick up on the third attempt.

"It's me, I'm so sorry I didn't pick up earlier."

"K-Kenjirou-nii..." your voice weakly translates over the speaker. 

Shirabu presses the phone closer to his ear and turns up the volume. "Where are you now," he demands. "At school?"

"...Your place..." Your voice sounds so dangerously faded, like petals beaten to the ground from the rain.

Shirabu bolts. His apartment is just a couple blocks away. Around the corner just up ahead. Shirabu makes a sharp turn and splashes through a puddle. 

"Stay...on the phone with me," he urges, paying no mind to his soaked shoes and socks.

You nod in understanding, as if he’ll hear your action.

"I'm almost there okay, almost."

Shirabu isn’t lying. A few moments later you hear the frantic footsteps coming closer to you. The stomping noises make your skin crawl, but the familiar face of your brother melts those fears away. He appears with his wet bangs stuck to his face and his shoulders heaving up and down. It’s him, your niichan, your prince finally here.

You scramble up and dive into his open arms, in relief that you are safe at last, as you finally allow tears to mix with rain.

"I was so scared. I missed you so much, Kenjirou-niichan," you sob into Shirabu's wet coat. "Where were you, where were you?"

"I'm sorry. I'm here now, I'm sorry," Shirabu apologizes, "Let's go inside first, alright? We’re both drenched.”

----

Under the bright lights of the living room, Shirabu gets a better look at you. You catch his discerning eyes studying you up and down, visually tracing the markers of your demise. That’s when you crack.

“Kenjirou-nii...the real world, the world is a horrible place. I trusted him, you know? I trusted that man.”

Foolish and stupid, Shirabu wants to say. It’ll be easy to simply yell at you.

Shirabu is not someone without a temper. He was quite known for it back in his high-school days. The bruises, the scars that did not heal well. Shirabu reminds himself to keep his composure, especially in front of you. He’s to be a doctor. He’s to be a protector, a savior. And with the training he already has so far, Shirabu knows he’s already as good as any board certified, licensed white-robed saint. He just needs to do what he’s meant to do. Heal. Clean. Purify.

After listening to your brief tale, Shirabu tells you not to worry about anything else tonight other than take a hot shower and get some rest. He gives you a reassuring smile and sends you off to the bathroom with towels and a large t-shirt.

While you wash-up and lose your thoughts piecing together the messy events of the night, Shirabu paces in the living room after he changes his own wet clothes. Nevermind the medical books he still needs to pour over, all Shirabu wants to do right now is track down the culprit and stick a scalpel through his socket. No, that’s just too easy. That bastard deserves something much more horrible, a slow and patient torture, a death within grasp but just out of reach. As if agreeing with Shirabu’s thoughts, your phone on the coffee table lights up. Shirabu picks up the device and watches the notifications pop-up.

Shirabu sees an unknown number call you. He doesn’t pick up, letting the phone ring while he reads the numbers across the screen and commits them to memory. The phone calls stop and an onslaught of texts follow; some coherent and others far from decipherable. There are messages of broken apologies and confessions of persistent love. Requests for you to go back to him. Shirabu scoffs at the language.

Shirabu continues to wait with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. How dare the man behind that accursed number treat you, his little sister and princess, in such a foul manner. This beast who stole from you. Who is the reason behind the tainting of your now sullied innocence. 

Finally after a few minutes of silence, the screen lights up with a series of curses and condemnation that show the man’s true colors. A morphed beast due to your lack of response. Shirabu scrolls through the list of notifications again with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. 

"You will pay," Shirabu seethes, taking a knife from the kitchen and ramming the sharp end straight into the device glass. The phone buzzes desperately and goes dark. You have no use for that phone anymore after all of this anyway, and the cursed number is already memorized by Shirabu for his own purposes.

----

Shirabu’s room is tidy. The two bookshelves on either side of the table are filled with books, photos, and many other accolades. That’s your older brother alright: perfect, proper, always right. Always right about everything, except one thing. The world you know really isn’t the wonderland he told you about growing up. Not at all. 

You bury your face into Shirabu's pillows and will yourself to sleep. You are safe here in his bed. It’s a haven...safely tucked in a forest. You are in a forest. The trees and the breeze. Songbirds are singing. 

You can dance here, twirl about...safe...free…

The trees melt.

Birds squawk and screech, scampering away…

Ink engulfs you....swallowing you whole

Falling...falling…

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

NO! you try to scream. You can’t, the weight on your chest sinks you deeper, only silence is uttered...choked…

Wake up.

Wake up.

"Wake up!"

Your eyes fly open and you see him. Him. A blood curdling shriek finally tears through your throat and you thrash. "Getawaygetawaygetaway! NO!"

"It's me, hey, it's me. You're okay, you're safe." Shirabu’s eyes widen with worry at your outburst, but gives you ample space to breathe and compose yourself.

This familiar voice. It does not belong to him. It’s definitely not him.

"...Kenjirou-nii?" you ask quietly. The shadow is backlit from light coming in through the door and your vision is still fuzzy from the nightmare.

A tender hand closes around yours. "Shhh, it's okay, you're okay now. It was a bad dream, you're safe. You're safe. I'm here."

Cold sweat runs down your temples. Your breath is fast and shallow.

"Follow me, okay. Breathe in..." Shirabu takes a deep breath. You follow his voice and movement as if they are lanterns guiding you through a maze. "And breathe out. Good, you're doing great. Breathe in...and out..."

You feel your mind slowly beginning to clear with each inhale and exhale. Finally, you see Shirabu clearly again. You can smell the scent of his body wash from him. The texture of the blanket rubs against your fingertips. You’re here in Shirabu’s room. Safety. Haven. 

"I'll be right back," Shirabu tells you, before leaving you for a moment and going towards the bathroom. He opens the medicine cabinet, pops out a few white pills from a box.

"Here," he says holding out the small tablets in the middle of his palm. The off-white seems to almost glow in the dark.

"It's zolpidem, a sleeping pill I sometimes take for insomnia. It'll help you for tonight, and then we'll get you something else tomorrow that'll work better."

You look at the pill and then at Shirabu. Shirabu is someone you love and trust with all your heart. His embrace is your anchor and haven when the rest of the world has turned a blind eye. He’s your brother. One and only. There’s no reason not to trust him.

"I won't see him will I?"

"No," Shirabu affirms. The pills don't really manipulate dreams, but if reassuring you can placebo sweet dreams, then what harm really is there? He didn’t pass Ethics with top marks for nothing.

Shirabu gently presses the pill body against your lips and you part them, allowing the small object to slip through. He feeds another and you open your mouth obediently. You look at Shirabu’s eyes which are fixated on the way your lips wrap around his three fingers.  Kenjirou-nii’s lashes are so nice and pretty, you think. 

One gulp of water later, and you feel nothing but a cold sensation traveling down your throat and disappearing into your belly.

"It'll take about half an hour, I'll stay with you until you fall asleep," Shirabu says. He supports your back and gently lowers you back into the comforts of the plush mattress. Shirabu will surely carry the same attentiveness and care when he becomes a full-fledged doctor. You are sure of it. The big brother you grew up with has truly grown up and matured. But no matter how much he changes or how much you mess up, he’ll always be your big brother.

"Can you lie down next to me again, like when we were young?"

An innocent request from a patient-in-need. Shirabu complies and lies down next to you.

"I remember when we were young, I would make you dance with me to live out my princess dreams. You remember?”

Afternoons next to the stereo, crayons scattered on the floor. The smell of something baking in the kitchen. Shrieks and laughter in the living room. Even though Shirabu would be mildly annoyed at first, he found humoring your imagination to be a pleasant and soothing experience. Even he was sometimes whisked away from textbooks into a magical forest that was just you and him. The stress and burdens of everything else all seem so much lighter on his shoulders when you’re simply just there.

"Of course I remember, silly."

You hum softly and continue waiting for the medicine in your bloodstream to make its way through your body.

"Do you...remember the sleeping beauty story you would always tell me?"

"Yea?"

You pause for a moment before quietly asking, "Kenjirou-niichan, why did you lie to me?"

Shirabu does not respond and only glances over at you, eyeing your closed lids. Closed though they may be, the tiny beads of glimmering tears are beginning to emerge from between the lashes and trail down your cheeks.

"There is no prince, Kenjirou-nii...no prince for me, no one...niichan...," you mumble between your breaths. The drug is starting to take its effect, ushering your mind into another dimension far away from hurt and pain. It swallows you like a pit of ink, sinking you deeper and deeper...

----

Kenjirou-nii, why did you lie? Earlier, Shirabu felt his breath hitch when you asked that. 

He calls out your name softly, brushing over your cheeks, and listening to your soft breathing for a good while to make sure you are in fact asleep. At long last, maybe this is a good dream.

A lie? No! Not a lie, Shirabu wants to tell you. For you, his dearest sister, who only ever deserves happiness, in the rawest and truest form. You are supposed to have a life of others giving gifts of love, never having to offer anything of your own.

Shirabu feels his blood boil once more at the thought of that man who stole your innocence away. The one who took your body for his own carnal pleasures. The one who dared to steal you from him, Shirabu Kenjirou. If Shirabu's nails are not kept in immaculate condition for his profession, no doubt, his grip would be drawing blood from his palms.

Those marks and scars across your skin. Shirabu traces his finger down your neckline and along your arms...

Your head turns from left to right and you manage to shrug the big collar of the t-shirt off your shoulder. Shirabu can see, under the glow of moonlight from the cleared night sky, a nasty mark. A permanent mark. And before he realizes it, his fingers are already traveling over, tracing along and testing out the patterns and bumps.

Shirabu feels his chest burn beyond the anger and fury. Guilt. Where was he all this time when you were suffering? Why hadn't you just called him then? Anguishing thoughts of his little sister writhing in pain under that beast's grasps tear Shirabu apart. Did you cry? Were you scared? All these years studying for what? For what noble purpose is Shirabu trying to pursue if he can’t even save those closest to him?

Shirabu continues to search for any other marks or discolorations that are splayed across your skin like a map. It is what it is now. But Shirabu still has his calling. He is a man who answers to a life of service and healing: a prince in a white coat. No matter what happens, even if you’re tainted now, you’ll still be his little sister.

Even if your naivety and stupidity got you into the mess in the first place. Of course, why didn’t you listen to your brother’s warnings and stay in a safe haven like a good girl? Stay in your room and study for your future like a good student? Like him? Why did you think running off for fun, enjoying “youth and freedom” like the other degenerates would be a good idea?

Shirabu grits his teeth. Look at you now, damaged and past the point of no return, used. Injured and ill. Still, he needs to get the full story first, and see where else you might possibly be hurt. A complete diagnosis needs to come first. After the messages from the man, Shirabu is all the more certain that there are more clues left, and he needs evidence. He needs to know. The comforter is pulled away and careful hands examine the lines of your palms.

Once upon a time, you grabbed Shirabu’s hand and tried to use the methods of schoolyard palm-reading on him. You even exclaimed, “Kenjirou-niichan, this line means you’ll live a long life! And we can be together forever because my life line is really long too!”

Shirabu smiles at the memory and presses a kiss to the center of your palm. It must have been so painful, how could you have possibly endured? But you did and you survived. You are so brave. 

Probing fingertips trace across your collarbone and push the fabric of the large t-shirt up to reveal your torso. Shirabu blinks, realizing that this is now the body of a fully matured woman. You take a deep breath in your sleep from the cold air running across your exposed breasts. Shirabu can see the nipples perk up from the chill and hesitantly touches the bud with a hint of academic curiosity.

“Mmm, that tickles...” you giggle softly. Your hand pushes Shirabu's off and scratches the same spot he just traced, fondling your own breast briefly before letting go and continuing to sleep. Even grown up now, still the same adorable little sister.

Shirabu lets himself tease your nipples and knead the soft flesh of your breasts, toying around and watching your cute little expressions. Sometimes you’ll respond again and paw the tickling hands away. It’s fun, like playing a little game.

But when he lets his eyes wander down, Shirabu’s eyes narrow. Below the breasts, on either side of the waist, Shirabu sees damning marks of deep purple turning into a disgusting yellow. Like cursed claw marks. Shirabu hesitantly presses on the bruise, watching the color transform under his touch. He stops immediately when you begin to whine in pain. Carefully, Shirabu presses a kiss on these markings too, just like any other little injury you sustained in the past. A kiss so the pain flies away.

Foolish, foolish girl. Naive princess. Why did you let this happen to yourself? In the future, don’t run anymore. Stay here where it’s safe. 

There is just one place left Shirabu did not examine yet, a hidden spot that is supposed to be locked away that someone else discovered. Shirabu looks down at the dark lace panties obstructing his view like gates of a castle. It’s a poor “keep out” message; if anything it entices anyone who sees it to come in. A tempting invitation to see what’s behind.

Shirabu allows his clean fingers to easily slip through and begin a thorough investigation through the soft folds of flesh. His fingertips dip into a pool of wetness. He furrows his brows. When did this happen? 

Why are you wet? His eyes focus on your sleeping face that still has a relaxed smile. What are you dreaming about that makes your body like this? Shirabu drags the fingers covered with your slick to circle your clit. In response your thighs clamp and twitch. So sensitive, still inexperienced, even if you’re sullied. 

Shirabu slides the soaked panties off and pushes your thighs apart so he can continue his examination. That person must have touched this area too, his fingers have been here, and then…plunged his fingers into you like so. Your body trembles as Shirabu’s two fingers probe in, fully examining your inner anatomy. Soft, warm muscles clamp tightly around his digits and try to stop them from entering further. It’s for your good and his knowledge. He pushes deeper into you, dragging alongside the bumps and ridges of your walls.

You whine loudly and arch your back when Shirabu’s fingers find a sweet spot. Your head shifts on the fluffy pillows.

“Did you like that? Did that feel good?” Shirabu asks, probing your hole once more. As if in agreement, your body twitches again and your hips automatically roll against the palm, pressing your sensitive clit into the surface. Your breathy sighs are soft and sweet, unlike any other sound Shirabu has heard from you. It’s like a spell that enchants Shirabu and beckons for him. He shudders as he feels his cock responding to each noise coming out from between your lips.

It’s good, something feels so good. Under the sunlight, you feel warmth pooling throughout your body. There are tingles in the soles of your feet, like grass tickling skin while running around barefoot. Your body feels so light and relaxed. It’s warm and you’re not in this forest alone. The shape of a prince appears. You know he’s a prince because his voice is gentle and his touch feels safe.

If this feels good, it’s only because this is an act of love. If this makes you happy, it’s because it’s love. If it’s love, it’ll fill the empty pools of hurt. And if you’ll be whole again, you’ll heal. Shirabu makes up his mind and caresses your cheeks tenderly, So beautiful. Always beautiful. A sleeping beauty. His hand reaches to the waistband of his pants.

The prince rests his hand on your hips and excitement jolts through your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile back.

Shirabu freezes the moment he feels your arms wave into the air and reach for him. The sneaky fingers run across his skin.

"Dance..with me," you slur before falling back into silence.

The alarm washes away when he confirms you are still sound asleep.

"Are you dreaming of your prince?" Shirabu asks while tearing open a condom packet. Medical safety. He should have worn gloves earlier too, if he wasn’t already too entranced. "Dancing? Then I'll dance with you."

Forever. I'll be your prince, my sweet darling.

Shirabu runs the length of his hardened cock along your glistening slit. Rather than take, rather than pillage and steal...Shirabu will give. Replace the gross markers of pain with soft fleeting kisses. Replace the innocence stolen with love given unconditionally. Shirabu will give you all the love you deserve and more.

Shirabu’s fingers weave into your delicate ones, the palms join together, and your fingertips automatically lock with your niichan’s. It’s the starting position for a waltz in the forest, once upon a dream.

The man takes the initiation, the leading step. Shirabu closes the gap, sinking his length into your sweet embrace in a fluid and wet squelch. You respond, digging your nails and tightening your grip on his hands. Your other arm hugs around your partner, your niichan, pulling his body close against yours. Your blank eyes flutter open briefly to look straight at the shadow of Shirabu. Of course, you don’t see anything, you’re actually in a warm forest shyly gazing at your prince. Shirabu almost thinks that he woke you up, but you only let out a quiet moan before your body relaxes again.  

Shirabu groans and rests his cock in your warm and tight embrace. This is the way it should be, how it ought to be done. No one else can lead you in this dance the way he can. The way he will. This is not the self-fulfilling king stealing the princess’s virginal body for his own pleasure. This is the loving prince who loves and gives selflessly. Your big brother knows you the best, knows how you’ll respond, knows how you’ll like it. Shirabu slowly draws himself out and thrusts back in.

The prince presses himself so close to you, and you inhale sharply. During the waltz, you always have to maintain body contact with your partner. You feel his breath on your cheeks, and you’re sure he can feel your hammering heartbeat. The intimacy builds in the tender but secure hold. The steps are quick but the movements are not violent. It’s just enough that the heat stirring in your core spreads throughout your body.

Breaths become more labored and raspy into the act. Shirabu sees your face morph into bliss as he continues his pace and rocks his hips into you. His own brows furrow as Shirabu feels his grip over rationality falling apart with each thrust. Each flutter of your walls against him only invites him to come in deeper, farther. Harder. 

“...K-Kenjirou-nii...,” you softly cry out.

Your honeyed voice is a thick syrup trapping Shirabu, coaxing him. It’s like a melody inviting a weary traveler, a lost prince, in for rest. Your voice, your body, it’s tantalizing.

"Too good," Shirabu groans to himself. Why is it so good? You, his little sister, how? He looks down towards where he sees his cock, covered with your fluids, disappear into you. The thin latex barrier doesn’t stop how close the two of you are, Shirabu feels each clench and spasm around him. “My little sister, I didn’t know…” 

Shirabu can now understand just why that man did all that to you. Why that man wants to keep you by his side. Why he incessantly sends messages and tries to manipulate you back into their world.

It’s the only explanation, really, when you don’t even know how bewitching your body is. How enticing your voice is. Anyone would want to keep it as their own. Your warmth, your sweet, sweet hole. This cunt of yours is itself a safe haven. And Shirabu feels like he’s the one being made whole from you. It’s all because of you.

Each moan from you. Those gentle mewling cries, a witch’s spell, an incantation for addiction. That man is trying to manipulate you? How? When your whole existence manipulates everyone first, drawing them all in with the image of your unsullied purity.

Shirabu feels his impending release around the edge. His pace quickens and his thrusts meet with each of your twisting squirms. Your head tosses side-to-side on the pillow as your sleepy climax washes through.

Spin. Faster and faster in the forested ballroom. Twirl for the finale. You feel a dizzying jolt as the prince dips your body back. It’s a whirlwind of love. In your dream, the sunshine is so warm and growing so much hotter. It feels like you’re floating. So light and free. That prickling tickle in your feet is growing stronger until little fireworks set off across every corner of your body, filling you completely. The forest melts as the colors blend together in a dreamy painting. 

Euphoria, as Shirabu finishes spectacularly, clutching your sleeping body close to him in a messy ending pose. The final winds of the dead storm outside sound like a rumbling applause for this sinful waltz. He can hear his own pants and your shaky breaths mix into a fading duet. Shirabu lets himself bask for a moment, resting, entangled with you.

Everything makes sense now. He completely understands why the bastard king forces himself onto Sleeping Beauty. He completely understands why your allure is much too exquisite to pass on. Shirabu pulls out and carefully removes the condom, collecting the white essence you bewitched out from him into a little package with a tie. Dangerous little princess, that you are.

Even though Shirabu now fully understands the complete story after careful examination, there are still a few lines Shirabu will draw. One, that man has still committed a very grave sin, being the first to sample your purity, stealing that away from Shirabu? Damaging your flesh and skin? Unacceptable, he thinks as he tosses the used condom into the waste bin. A complete low-life who doesn’t know how to cherish. Punishment will be due.

Shirabu returns to the bed where your unconscious body is still sprawled between bunched sheets. His blank eyes study your spread legs and puffy cunt that’s still quivering every now and then. He taps his index finger against your sensitive clit. As if it is a magic button, your body briefly trembles on command. As if you are ready to enchant another unsuspecting traveler into your safe little haven. A little bit of fluid leaks out from your hole, presenting itself seductively. Welcome. 

Shirabu scoffs. And number two, you’ll be better off staying here with himself, your big brother. You’ll be safe here with a prince who knows best how to love you right, and give you the world. This is the way it should be; before you completely lose yourself into degeneracy and invite just about anyone into you. 

Those sleeping pills will be insufficient for the long-run. A different concoction while you are still healing from your terrible trauma will be needed. A cocktail of sorts that will target different needs. Yes. Shirabu files that thought away, putting it towards the top of his to-do list. There’s so many things he has to take care of. Too much pain in this world waiting for him to don white robes and be out there.

“But you’ll always come first on niichan’s list,” Shirabu whispers, slipping your panties back on and pulling the comforters over your body. He’ll never allow you to be sullied again. You’ll stay here in this safe haven, like a little cottage tucked away in the forest. Dream here. Find happiness with the only prince you need.

The first rays of dawn begin to brighten the sky, shooing away the cloak of night. The first songs from the birds announce the arrival of a new day. The morning light filters through the windows of the room, spilling over onto the bed and your quiet, unmoving form.

Time to wake up now, sleeping beauty.

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