Latest Posts by ara-ara-bitch - Page 8

show, don't tell:

anticipation - bouncing legs - darting eyes - breathing deeply - useless / mindless tasks - eyes on the clock - checking and re-checking

frustration - grumbling - heavy footsteps - hot flush - narrowed eyes - pointing fingers - pacing / stomping

sadness - eyes filling up with tears - blinking quickly - hiccuped breaths - face turned away - red / burning cheeks - short sentences with gulps

happiness - smiling / cheeks hurting - animated - chest hurts from laughing - rapid movements - eye contact - quick speaking

boredom - complaining - sighing - grumbling - pacing - leg bouncing - picking at nails

fear - quick heartbeat - shaking / clammy hands - pinching self - tuck away - closing eyes - clenched hands

disappointment - no eye contact - hard swallow - clenched hands - tears, occasionally - mhm-hmm

tiredness - spacing out - eyes closing - nodding head absently - long sighs - no eye contact - grim smile

confidence - prolonged eye contact - appreciates instead of apologizing - active listening - shoulders back - micro reactions

50 WORDS TO USE INSTEAD OF “SAID”

Do you ever find yourself over-using the word “said” in your writing? Try using these words/phrases instead:

stated

commented

declared

spoke

responded

voiced

noted

uttered

iterated

explained

remarked

acknowledged

mentioned

announced

shouted

expressed

articulated

exclaimed

proclaimed

whispered

babbled

observed

deadpanned

joked

hinted

informed

coaxed

offered

cried

affirmed

vocalized

laughed

ordered

suggested

admitted

verbalized

indicated

confirmed

apologized

muttered

proposed

chatted

lied

rambled

talked

pointed out

blurted out

chimed in

brought up

wondered aloud

(NOTE: Keep in mind that all of these words have slightly different meanings and are associated with different emotions/scenarios.)

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

We lost a legend today.. Techno, fly high, you'll never be forgotten. Your laughs, cries, good times, and every single moment you shared with us will live on in everyone's hearts. So long till the next one Techno

but for now, rest in peace...

..nah bruv i cant i- WHO HURT YOU OML I COULD FEEL THROUGH THE WORDS I- ESPECIALLY ALBEDOS PART ON LIKE HOW LIKE YK HUMAN I- I CANT TALK PROPERLY ANYMORE YOUVE MADE ME SPEECHLESS THIS IS SO GOOD

(Part 2): So Close, Yet So Far

Notes: Part two of the first part. Idk this felt kinda lacking but I enjoyed writing it anyways. Might move on to fluff if I'm in a good mood. Drop some suggestions :)

Summary: They’re always away and work seemingly became more important than their time with you.

Characters: Albedo, Thoma, Gorou, Aether, Kazuha

Warning/s: Some lore spoilers? Graphic mentions of death on Gorou’s part.

Themes: Angst, Breakup, No Comfort, Gender Neutral Reader

Part 1: (here)

Aftermath: Closure Pt. 2

Albedo

‘Be patient with him’ is what you always tell yourself as you follow Albedo up the mountain for another excursion to Dragonspine for who knows what and archons know what for. You hadn’t known what you were setting yourself up for when you decided to pursue a relationship with the very handsome but very stand-offish alchemist from the Knights of Favonius. True, your relationship with him had its very sweet moments of cooking with him and him sketching you, but those were rare and hard to come by- especially from Albedo. Part of it was the fact that he was not human and his pursuit of understanding also included human emotion which made it difficult to discern whether or not his sweet words and gentle manner were genuine or a form of fabrication for his studies. Sometimes he’d even use you for his experiments; odd contraptions strapped to your head, shivering in his open lab in Dragonspine, drinking odd concoctions that you fear may kill you.

It’s worth it, you’d always think when you see Albedo’s eyes shine and his lips curl into a smile when he discovers something new or if his hypothesis is correct. It’s worth it if it meant that you were making Albedo happy; even if it meant that you yourself had never felt more unloved.

‘Be patient with him’ drained the life out of you each time you asked if Albedo wanted to go out somewhere with you, but he would say ‘no’ and say, ‘I’m busy’. It drained you as you watched him react more to his experiments than when being with you. It drained you when you’d get your hopes up as Albedo called for you only for the same hope to be crushed when it was for a lab test.

“Albedo, can we please do something nice for once? You’re always working, and I want to spend some time alone with you.” You said as you stood at the foot of his lab when he called you in for help with another experiment.

“Well, we’re spending some time alone right now.” He said as you listened to the clink of test tubes for a potion he was going to make you drink.

“I’m serious, Bedo.” You said, crossing your arms from the cold and irritation. Albedo glanced at you and saw your annoyed expression but still turned away.

“I have a hard time understanding what you want from me, Y/N,” He said, setting down his clipboard, his back still turned and attention drawn away.

“Of course you don’t. You wouldn't understand how I’d feel anyways,” You said. “You’re not human.” As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you looked up to see Albedo staring at you blankly. Through the trick of the eye, the corners of his lips twitched and his hands formed into a fist. You half expected him to be upset with you while the other half expected him to be upset with himself. But he showed no emotion as you two stared. It was too late for you to take your words when you realized you meant what you said- as hurtful as it was, your patience with him ran thin and you were tired of pretending the lack of intimacy was acceptable- even for Albedo. And so, you wordlessly turned to leave him alone in his cold, open lab. As he watched you leave, he knew it was a sign your fleeting relationship was done; but Albedo felt something prickling in his skin.

‘Strange. This isn’t what cold feels like.’ It was different. It was hot, searing, and burning. Gradual, slow and torturous that it felt intentional. It ran from his chest and pulsed throughout his skin. Something within him ached so terribly as he tried so desperately to find a cure for this ravenous madness that made him drag himself and heave across the table. Your expression is what got him- the shock in your face when you said what you said but the immediate switch to emptiness- the way he recognized was the same expression he wore around you. Worst of all were your words echoing throughout his mind. You’re not human.

“Is this… what they call heartache?” Intense was the word Albedo was looking for. In your entire relationship, he felt some form of intensity, the giddiness when you stroked your hand through his hair or gave him compliments for his work- but nothing was comparable to the pain that coursed through him right now. He knew he wasn’t human, but why does he feel so alive? Why is his hollow shell suddenly flooding with so many things he couldn’t possibly understand? Then he remembers you. You were loving, your gestures so unfeigned and manners so human- something Albedo couldn’t understand yet but longed for- more so now than he had ever had.

“Y/N, it hurts,” He says as he grabs at his head and whispers into the table. Hot tears stream from his eyes, a new trick so foreign to him that he feels like a child discovering what it’s like to feel empathy. Something real. And he had never felt more real, more human, when he was with you. You had taught him the euphoria of what it means to have human emotion, the joy that comes with love, and the utter devastation when Albedo finally discovered what it meant, what it felt, to have someone you love tear away at you like a pack of wolves. To be exposed to the raw emotions that was heartbreak. It hurt so much but he loved it.

He loved you.

“It hurts, Y/N,” Albedo called to you smiling, as if announcing a groundbreaking discovery of the century. He needed you now more than ever- not for experiments, not for confirmation of theories, he needed you. To tell you what he felt, what you made him feel, how good it was no matter the hurt. But it was too late. You had given him everything he needed to know about connections and bonds and the joy that came with them- yet you had no love left to give him. He would destroy the world to get it back if it meant the pain would stop. If it meant he’d start over and give you the love you deserve.

Thoma

Thoma was the perfect lover; the man every parent wished for their child, the man every grandparent loved having over, the man others would kill for but Thoma would discourage them. You don’t know how lucky you found yourself when Thoma bashfully gave you a plate of tricolor dango he made by himself as a way to ask you out. Your relationship was seen by others as more than perfect, more than beautiful. Prying eyes would watch as Thoma would hold the umbrella over your head and give you his coat on a rainy day as you two walked down the street; Inazuman girls would seethe with jealousy as Thoma would plant a kiss on your forehead in front of them, his smile bursting wide when you’d return in; the older women in town would compliment you both and ask about marriage, children and the works while you two would turn red and look away in embarrassment at the questions. Everyone on the outside thought you two were perfect.

You knew a little differently. No relationship was perfect. Each one had cracks and problems as every relationship would. You and Thoma rarely argued and it was mostly for something small and insignificant like who forgot to do the laundry, but nothing big ever happens. In fact, every squabble always ends with an apology. The only problem you two had was work. Thoma was almost always busy working for the Kamisato Clan and sure, you had your fair share of labor, but sometimes it was getting ridiculous.

At first you didn’t mind- you understood how the Kamisato siblings relied their trust on Thoma and you admired it even. Some things about his work however drew the line when you would be left alone in the middle of the street, waving half-heartedly goodbye to your lover as he is called in for another commission. Most tea dates you two had at Komore Tea House were with Ayaka and you grew to be friends with the girl- but you sometimes felt like a third wheel between them. Sometimes you would wake up in the middle of the night to Thoma hastily leaving to do something for the Estate. Hell, the only real dates you two ever had were doing chores around the Estate’s yard and Inazuma. You were getting tired. You spent little to no time with Thoma; despite how loving he was, how caring and generous and perfect, you can’t help but feel unloved if he dedicated his time to someone that wasn’t you. As selfish as that may have sounded, the issue has drawn on for too long.

While the crickets chirped silently, your hand in Thoma’s as you two walked to the Estate for the eighth time this week. The atmosphere made it feel like you two were out for a nice walk, when in fact, you were out to do another commission. Thoma noticed your tightening grasp on his hand as he stopped to look at you.

“Is there anything bothering you, Y/N?” Your fear of losing him bubbled in your chest and you wanted nothing more than for you to be able to express yourself without prying eyes and listening guards. This seemed to be the perfect time to do so.

“If you had to choose me, or the Kamisato Clan, who would you prioritize?” You asked, chest rising and falling as you watched Thoma struggle to say something. You should’ve worded it differently, but you had already given him the ultimatum and his answer was clear. You nodded and lowered your head, hearing Ayaka call out to him from a distance. Thoma pulled you close but you didn’t move, savoring the last time you might ever be this close to him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” was all Thoma could say, his voice and body shaking. Before he could do anything else, you buried your head in his neck and whispered,

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Thoma.” finally looping your hands around his waist. I need more time, I can’t let you go. “I love you, but I can’t…” You wondered if you were being selfish- if you were willing to sacrifice such a loving man and a wonderful relationship because you felt unfulfilled. Maybe you were, but Thoma only pulled you closer, and you, for the first time in your relationship, withdrew from him. Hearing Ayaka call out to him once more, Thoma didn’t stir and only held onto your wrist, eyes begging for you to stay. But you stepped back and looked at him pitifully.

“I think someone else needs you right now.” You said, stepping back again. “Goodbye, Thoma.” While you turned to leave, you glanced back to see his figure fading away to the Kamisato Estate. What you didn’t know is that Thoma was the one to need you this time. His heart aching at your words, the realization finally hitting him that you had felt so unloved. He remembers the days you would soothe his joints and muscles, make him lunches on days and dinner by nights, the way you would nod understandingly as he ranted and raved about his day. You’ve given him your time and company, while he returned it by not doing the same. Thoma turned around to find you gone and wanted so badly to get you back. But work called for him, and you had already left. If only his loyalty would favor you, but in the end, you had been the second option.

Gorou

Gorou had always been busy; now more than ever with the civil war that’s been rampaging Inazuma. You did what you could to help with the Resistance and Gorou was extremely grateful for you. You could see the toll it took on him to lead an Army and at the same time handle everything else with their excellent strategist, Divine Priestess Kokomi. You encouraged him to take breaks with you once in a while, but his stubbornness persisted, and he would work day and night to ensure swift victories against the Shogun’s Army.

It was only when he would lose sleep over worrying about the latest advancements and number of casualties did you really start to worry. Gorou would be up late into the night and well into the evening, hunched over a map, his ears twitching in annoyance and even your massages wouldn’t be enough to soothe his tense muscles. On times he would relent and take calming breaks with you, he would be immediately ordered to the front lines by Kokomi or other soldiers, and they would have to apologize on his behalf.

“Gorou, I know we need to win this war, but I think you’ll perform better if you take a little rest.” You said as you watched your lover fit into his armor. “Come, have some tea with me.”

“I can’t right now, Y/N, Her Excellency is calling me up to help and you know I can’t pass up this opportunity to gain some sort of foothold against the Shogunate Army.” It was hard to convince him not to leave, even harder to make him rest. But he needed to do what had to be done. You had no choice but to let him go.

“Alright, I’ll be having tea out near the shores.” You said, wishing him good luck as Gorou plants a soft kiss on your cheek and storms off. “Be safe, Gorou.” The waters of Inazuma’s beaches were always your favorite- soft sands meeting the rolling waves clear enough that you could see the eels, crabs and shells from below. Nothing could disturb your peace. Not long after you set up the tea table on the beach, you notice a group of the Shogun’s army nearing your spot. Strange, you think, they’re beyond enemy lines. Calm and composed, you only watch as the soldiers circle you.

“What seems to be the issue?” You ask, your heart racing in fear.

“You’re the lover of the Resistance Army’s general.” One soldier said, pointing a spear at you. “Comply now if you know what’s best for you.” Slowly, you sipped your tea and looked at the men that surrounded you, weapons in hand ready to fight. You yourself had no vision and were willing to fight until the end- if it meant that you would be of help to Gorou.

“I have no Vision to surrender, nor do I have any intentions of giving out any secrets for you.” You said, setting down your cup as the men stepped forward. “But if you must do what you need to, make sure the news reaches enemy lines. Tell them General Gorou is out for revenge.”

That night, the mood in the camp was unusually depressing for the Resistance Army camp as the soldiers pushed at each other when General Gorou came in from another surge. He ordered for his men to send the injured to the infirmary and once he arrived there, there was no need for his soldiers to tell him what had happened.

There lying lifeless on a bamboo mat was you- eyes closed, mouth parted slightly as if you were deep into sleep. But you neither moved nor was your heartbeat present in your chest. Gorou stopped in his tracks as his soldiers could do nothing but watch him crumple into a wailing mess beside you. You lay unmoving. The others did their best to clean you- under your fingers were the sands you spent your days on, sea water dried on your skin and blood clung to your shirt and face. Yet Gorou couldn’t help but smile through the tears. You look as beautiful as ever, Y/N.

“What is the meaning of this!?” He yelled, grabbing your cold hands. “Why wasn’t anyone with them!?” Gorou realized how odd that may have sounded- he was the one that should have been with you because you called him out there. He should have protected you, but he didn’t show, he never does. Now you’re dead and he feels as if your blood was on his hands.

“I should’ve been with them…” For weeks, Gorou has led the Resistance Army to push on, keep fighting, to end this once and for all. It’s not what you would have wanted but if it weren’t for this damned war, you would have still been alive. It was a comfort to Gorou to know that he’s fighting in your name, slaughtering soldiers left and right and exhausting what’s left of the energy he thinks should have been spent with you. He kept your word unknown to him- that he seeks revenge for what the enemy has done to you. Even he knows deep in his mind that you would disprove of his actions; it was too late for that now if you weren’t by his side to tell him it’s ok to stop fighting.

Aether

Aether is always out into the world of Teyvat in his conquest to find answers, truth and especially his sister. You wonder sometimes if you are a factor that’s been holding him down or slowing his path even though he has reassured you countless of times that you aren’t. Still, it was hard not to tell yourself that you may be a burden when Aether’s strength and experience out in the world is vastly different from yours. After all, he wasn’t from this world. Yet you and the rest of the other nations held a lot of trust in Aether- too much trust in fact that your worry about him seemed to rival that. It was worrying because Aether never seemed to stop; always working, always fighting, always on the go to find some semblance about where his sister was or what she’s doing with the Abyss Order. Whether it be fighting an Old God or jumping from one dimension to another, Aether seemed to be everywhere except with you. Some things in his life you couldn’t understand, but you had faith in him and didn’t say anything else as you followed him throughout his journey. Even in places you can’t follow, you make sure to him that he always has a place to come home to in your arms.

That was until you notice something shift in him that worry only worsened. You knew deep down that he was getting tired of constantly being thrown around to help and expect to fix everything when really, all he wished for was to be reunited with someone he loved. You understood the bond he and his twin shared, something unbreakable, but sometimes you selfishly wished that Aether could stay with you a little longer. You loved him after all-, but doubt clung in your mind that maybe he didn't share the same love you had towards him. He would encounter you sometimes after a rough day, a rough week, a rough month even and you would greet him with open arms to tend to his wounds and feed him and Paimon until the next day he would leave, and you wouldn't know when he would come back. Sometimes you wished if he would settle in with you, give the adventure a break and calm down for a while- but before you could even bring it up, he would say that there is no home if his sister isn’t by his side. Then doubts would come to your mind again and you’d wonder if you were of any help to him at all.

When you had met Aether, you were a traveler yourself and a part of the Adventurer’s Guild. You had seen him talking with Katherine about another mission to some unknown land, and being one with an Adventurer’s heart, you volunteered yourself to be Aether’s companion. And because you wanted to know the famed Traveler from another world. After that, you found yourself growing closer with him when he shared his stories around Teyvat; how he fought with Stormterror, his spars with a Fatui Harbinger, and the simple quests of planting flowers in Dragonspine. You were intrigued and enthralled by all this and asked Aether if you could join his party. You have some experience in fighting and navigation and his little friend Paimon found it to be quite exciting. With a charming smile, Aether said yes and you two had been adventuring ever since.

It was amazing for a while- the thrill of it all, the experience you gained and the places you couldn’t dream of being in. For the longest time in your life, you felt happy, and you fell in love. It took a while for you to realize your feelings for the mysterious Traveler but once it became clear, your uncertainty only grew and your feelings along with it. You wanted nothing more than to settle down with him, but you knew in your heart that he has no intention of doing that until he finds his sister. With that you felt the need to push your feelings aside until it became unbearable. You wanted to stay with him but wanted to be far from him because your feelings overshadowed your willingness to keep going. One day, you’ve decided that it was time for your adventure to end.

“Aren’t you coming?” Aether asked as you two exited your home. You stopped at the door frame and looked at him sadly. He noticed your expression and pursed his lips. “Is everything okay, Y/N?” You wondered if it would be selfish of you to beg him to stay. One thing you admired so greatly about Aether was his selflessness, to put his needs aside if it meant if would help another. But you knew well that if he stayed, he would only be held down.

“Yes… I’m fine but, I think I’ll hold off on the commissions for a while.” You said, barely a whisper. Usually, Aether would convince you to come with him and tell you that you're a great help- but he only stepped closer and held out his hand.

“If you wish to see me again,” He said. “You know where to find me.” You nodded and held his hand in yours. Aether looked down at it and you could feel his fingers pulling away from your grip.

“Go find your sister.” Was all you said. With that, Aether nodded and ran. Only Paimon was the one to look back at you and wave goodbye. The only thing you could do was to cry silently and watch the man you loved go. It was clear from the start that his restlessness was unwavering, and he would stop at nothing to get back the only comfort of home he has known. That comfort wasn’t you, and you were more than happy to let Aether go even if it meant his love for you was as short lived as your time together.

Kazuha

You fell in love with Kazuha’s beautiful words and gentle manner. He was more than closed off when you met him on Captain Beidou’s ship, and you gathered little about this strange new individual. He was an outlaw of Inazuma, barely escaping the Shogun’s Army who was out to get him when he boarded the Alcor; now he recites poems whenever he can and warns the crew of coming storms. You were fascinated by him and listened when he would sit at the mast and recite his beautifully crafted poems. Once you asked him to recite one for you and you could see his eyes glimmer against the sunset when he would tell you about the rolling waves and the cradling breeze. After that, you found yourself talking more and more with the young samurai that the crew began to notice that they would pester and tease you about him. Kazuha only took note of that and made sure to make some of his poems about you. You were close enough now that Kazuha began to open up- about his past, his love of traveling, and the tragedy he has witnessed back at home and why he’s so adamant about never going back. You found yourself becoming conflicted then.

As much as you enjoyed seeing the world with Kazuha, you missed your home terribly. You missed being able to wake up to the gentle chirp of birds in the morning, the accessibility of food from the shops, the calmness of it all. As much as you loved the hectic anger of the sea or the pleasing calm that came with new places, you would love nothing more than to settle down with Kazuha. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him; waking up to him in the morning, making food with him, the domesticity of it all. But you knew Kazuha- he wouldn’t give up his life of wandering for the world- even if that meant his entire world was you. Besides, he wasn’t ready to go back to normalcy when the only normal thing he had before his life now was of his friend- and staying in the place that took him away made Kazuha retract from conversations relating to it. Even when he had gotten closure from his quest to find a new wielder to his friend’s Vision- which had been him all along- he was more compelled to go out into the world and find life anew to erase the old memories once and for all.

When the Alcor finally docked on Inazuma after the borders opened up again, you were reluctant to leave but you knew in your heart that you belonged someplace else. Only when the ship set out to sea again did you see Kazuha clinging to the ends of the boat, yelling your name desperately as if you could only wave goodbye.

“I’ll come back to you, Y/N!” Was what you would hear time and time again. You cried at every sunset watching the Alcor leave while you and Kazuha watched each other wave goodbye until the other would fade from view. He would come and go- tell you stories about his latest travels and bring you things from around the world. Though his time was short lived, you savored every moment you could spend with him. But even though Kazuha kept his promise to return to you, you knew well that his heart was set out to sea, and you were tired of waiting for a day that would never come. One time when he had returned, you introduced him to your lover and you noticed Kazuha’s expression dropped as he excused himself to go help with unloading the shipments. Before you would go out into the docks to once again wave him goodbye, Kazuha wasn’t there to yell out your name. The next time you two had seen each other was months after the first time he wasn’t there to see you set him off.

“Why couldn’t you wait for me, Y/N?” Was the first thing Kazuha asked you once he stepped foot onto the harbor. You were surprised by this. You waited for months, years even, for the day that Kazuha may come home to you finally. Maybe it was the other way around- that he had waited for you to once again board the ship with him. But both of you knew you had separate lives to live.

“I did wait for you, Kazuha.” You said. “Our worlds are just too different.” Since then, you two only shared civil goodbyes as Kazuha watched you turn your back to go home while his heart ached as you were the first to stop waving. He watched your life unfold before him each time the Alcor docked on Inazuma- you had a lover, then you were married, then you had your first child. Kazuha knew by then that he had nothing to come home to. Even when you had been the closest thing he had to normalcy, the closest thing he had to home, you too had gone away from him.

its.. GIVING EVERYTHING I NEED RN ISTG HIRA

I wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead—

synopsis !! a burst of courage is all you need to ruin your friendship

characters !! diluc, kaeya, zhongli, xiao

cw !! sfw mature content, undefined relationships, somewhat friends with benefits? complicated relationship status, consented actions

D I L U C

Imagine clambering onto Diluc's lap at a dark corner of Angel's Share, noise playing in the background and drunkards swaying to the songs of bards. You've been trading teases and hints all night, more from you than from the redhead, hoping he'd get the hint that you want a little more than what his friendship has to give. His eyes widen a little, looking at yours with uncertainty as his one hand steadies your waist while the other hesitantly pushes you back.

"You're drunk," he mutters as if to warn you but you shake your head no, taking a sip from the wine glass you balanced between your fingers.

"I'm not." You lean closer, wondering if there's even any effort in the hand that's pushing you back.

"That's what all the drunks say."

A smile graces your lips as you slip the wine glass between your faces, tilting it to his lips and – despite his aversion for alcohol – he drinks from your cup, eyes never leaving yours. Droplets of dark red drips from his lips to his chin from your hold of the glass.

"How's the wine, master Diluc?"

"It's. . . grape juice."

"Exactly." You place the wine glass on the table next to you, feeling the way his arms snake around your waist to pull you closer. Who said you needed liquid courage to help you get a love life anyway?

K A E Y A

"So-" He pulls away but you're relentless: lips following his for another kiss. Kaeya indulges you –only for a second– before trying to escape the onslaught of a make out session that's been ongoing for the past 10 minutes or so.

"What does–"

Kiss.

"This make–"

Kiss.

"Us?"

Kiss. This one lasts a little longer. You try to register his words in your dazed mind. What does this make you two? You've been in love with him for so long now, dropping relentless hints to the point that you've dropped the biggest "hint" of all and pulled him into the Favonius library for a quick snog.

You pull away but your eyes settle on his lips, a blush filtering your face. Could you really handle facing his pretty little lavender eye right now? "I don't know, captain. What do you think this makes us?"

He shakily inhales, fingers reaching up to hold your chin, bringing your lips closer to his, "I'm not sure. We might need. . . a few more minutes of this to figure it out."

Z H O N G L I

"Friends don't do things like this," You breathe out against his ear as his lips pepper kisses to the side of your neck. You really didn't need to remind him. He knows all the formalities there is to a friendship, therefore you should know how he knows that this isn't something you do to a friend.

Yet, can you blame him for his actions of worship when you've been suggesting wanting more of him? How could he deny your "I wouldn't mind kissing someone like mister Zhongli" or "The funeral consultant is my ideal type" kind of comments? He's bound to pull his dear friend in by the waist one of these nights.

"Would you like to stop?" He pauses, lips a fraction away from the underside of your ear. He peeks at you from the corner of his eye and you shake your head no.

"Archons, no. Keep going." It's breathy and shaky, and if you paid a little more attention, you'd feel the smirk on his lips and he presses against your skin.

X I A O

"Hypothetically, if a friend were to kiss you, would you kiss them back?"

He gives you a look mixed between disgust and confusion. What kind of question is that? Sure, he's not familiar with human customs but kissing is done between lovers and not friends, right? His mind filters through the people he somehow considers a "friend". . . There's Ganyu, Traveler, Chongyun, Yelan, Shinobu, Yanfei, Itto–

"No." He answers and you pout.

"Did you consider Itto when I said a friend?"

". . ."

You giggle at his silence, eyes glancing at his as he stares away.

Biting your lip, you ask quietly, "Hypothetically, did you consider me?" You say, "What if I kissed you?"

He hums, obscuring his face from your view but you see his shoulders ease down. "Then. . . kiss back, I suppose."

masterlist 2

note !! not @/ me adding xiao to my short drabbles after finishing his quest last night

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts

AMEN BESTIE😩

The AO3 search/filtering system has just ruined me for every other search function ever. I genuinely go onto websites, click 'advanced search' and then look at what paltry options they've given me in utter horror. How does anyone find anything? How do people survive?

this hurt like a bitch wtf

aftermath of a break up

cutting ties with you was easy. getting over you wasn't.

includes: childe, zhongli & xiao !

CHILDE had been the one to say those words, fueled by his momentary anger in the heat of the moment — “we should go our separate ways.”

and hours later even as his rationality returned, impulsive tendencies out of the way, he couldn't bring himself to regret it; why would he? on the contrary, he'd never been better! dating wasn't a necessary part of life, and even if it'd been nice with you by his side, he could live on his own without you all the same. he did it before, and he'd do it again.

CHILDE had his priorities straight. chasing after a lover who didn't want him anymore — oh, excuse me, he meant a lover he didn't want anymore — certainly wasn't at the top of the list. he had a family to care for, enemies to battle, and a duty to the tsaritsa; you didn't fit anywhere in the equation. your separation even granted him more freedom! no one to nag him to stop fighting, or to forbid him from purchasing useless expenditures, or to force him to rest when he was clearly busy with his job, or to meddle with any of his personal affairs from here on out.

but in the dead of the night as he drags his battered body to the comfort of his home, aching all over from bruises and cuts, something wells up in his throat. his hands are shaky as he opens the first aid kit, eyes examining the contents closely. he isn't very familiar with the items inside — you were always there to take care of him, he never needed to check it himself.

there's something wrong about returning home without the lights turned on, the panicked questions flung at him as he's ushered to sit, and the soft hands carefully treating his injuries. there's something wrong without someone to lean on, someone to wait for him to come back, someone who worries for his wellbeing when nobody else does. someone who puts him back together when he's fallen to pieces.

and as CHILDE drops the roll of bandages to the floor and cries in silence, he wonders what went wrong.

on the surface, ZHONGLI's behavior didn't differ much from his normal day to day attitude — he moved at his own pace, working diligently at the funeral parlor without breaking a sweat, and offered little information pertaining what transpired the day before. his colleagues were well aware of his recent... separation, you could say. after all, your heated argument wasn't a very private affair, since you'd broken into a fight at a relatively populated spot of town.

ZHONGLI acted stoic throughout, showing no signs of backing down in his side of things, and coming to a disagreement, you split up. unruffled as ever, he paid no mind to the worried glances sent his direction during work the next day; perhaps avoiding them consciously to a degree.

it worked, somewhat, and break time eventually came along, wherein ZHONGLI habitually prepared himself some tea and snacks. it didn't even occur to him he'd prepared two servings by pure muscle memory alone until he sat down and saw nobody sitting opposite of him — the spot where he expected you to be present, smiling at him like you always did.

something pricked at his chest, piercing through a weak point he thought he never had, but he numbs the pain, hastily inviting a coworker to share tea. she appears to be surprised, an emotion akin to pity glossing over her eyes, and ZHONGLI can't bring himself to force a smile.

the loneliness he feels doesn't subside.

when verr goldet first heard news of you dating the adeptus, she'd been relieved. XIAO had a bad habit of overexerting himself more often than not, arriving at wangshu inn half-dead after his usual patrols to fend off entities with malicious intent. though she'd been tasked with looking after him, it wasn't easy to tell him off. he'd be more likely to scoff at her concern than take her warnings to heart. “i can handle myself.”

with you by his side, a worrywart and stern to boot, her worries lessened considerably. XIAO actually listened to you intently, vowing to have some semblance of self-preservation rather than throw himself into violence carelessly. he began to smile more, too, his usual scowl withering to a passive expression. verr hadn't been given the opportunity to see his smile personally, but she heard his small chuckles whenever you came over and initiated pleasant conversations.

however, the peaceful days came to an abrupt end. XIAO came back one day, drenched from the rain; his blood mixed with the droplets running down his face, and verr wondered if he'd been crying, taking notice of his reddened eyes. her first instinct was to call you over, but he stopped her immediately, coldly glaring her down and cutting off anything she said sharply. “i don't need them anymore.”

but anyone could tell he still does. he stands at the top of wangshu inn, waiting patiently for someone who'll never come, and he knew it. he knew because he was the one who pushed you away in the first place. but he reasons with himself it was for the best, for your better future. he may live an eternal youth, but you can't — there was no point in staying this way forever, was there? (and yet he continues to wait anyway, waiting, waiting, and waiting. what a laughable fool.)

and as XIAO leaves for his patrol one afternoon, verr goldet sighs, pulling out a piece of mail she'd hidden away out of his sight.

she hopes he'll never see this wedding invitation soon.

yum

Kiss your Genshin best friend to see his reaction

Summary: You’ve been best friends for a whilenow, and you definitely have those little feelings of maybe wanting to be more but you just don’t know how to convey it. So you take a leap of faith, put a hand on his cheek, and give him a peck on the lips. Something you’ve never done before. Hey, actions speak louder than words, right…?

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Ayato, Bennett, Chongyun, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli, gn!reader

Warnings: inspired by an old tiktok trend even though I don’t have tiktok cause it’s banned in my country, lol but it was also a request by an anon, not proofread

Aether

Stunned does not even describe the entirety of it

He’s speechless and staring at you for a good five seconds before his brain starts to work again

“Wait, what was–” touches his lips to try and recall if that really happened or if he was trippin’

“Wait, hold on,” starts laughing at you and grabs at your wrist.

Proceeds to stare at you for another 5 seconds to process the information overload.

“Would you…wanna try that again?” with a loopy yet unsure grin

Keep reading

AUAYAYAYAYAYAYA THIS IS LITERALLY PULLING ME THRU MY ALLERGIES ISTG

lights, camera, action!

premise. in which you get yourself involved in a lot of unscripted drama. (genshin celebrity au.)

includes. xiao, childe, albedo, ayato, scaramouche, thoma & kazuha.

previous episode. watch here.

note. the long-awaited sequel nobody actually waited for lmao. please read part 1 if you still haven't! this entire fic would be incomprehensible otherwise :'D

四 ; ayato, the cannon fodder

although xiao is, with absolute certainty, regarded as your definite favorite celebrity in your heart, ayato comes a close second.

he's a modern day prince; if anyone were asked to say which male lead they liked best, you can guarantee their answer would be among one of his roles.

he played a lot of characters—a school heartthrob, a ceo, a bar owner, and even an actual prince for a snow white retelling. each one with stellar execution, as you'd expect from an actor of his caliber.

so it is to your absolute horror to find him casted in this production as a minor villain. the one that happens to (futilely) seduce the journalist to bed, no less!

is he asking to get his image destroyed?! which... actually does make sense. he's already been typecasted as the “prince” type of male lead, and you can guess how frustrating that can be. it must suck to play one persona over and over, mindlessly spouting recycled lines; not much room for creativity there.

but he's had different roles too, of course. one that stuck to your mind is another murder mystery, a film focusing on the death of a family head. the power struggle for the place of successor isn't a secret even to the public, and the prime suspects are primarily composed of the victim's relatives who stand to benefit from the family head's death.

ayato played the role of the first son, believed to be the one most likely to inherit the riches. which means the sooner the family head dies, he gets to have all the assets. he's suspicious due to his probable motive, but overly so that it's too obvious; ironically enough, this leads the audience to think he definitely couldn't be the killer.

except he is exactly that, but for a reason nobody would expect. rather than greed, the first son murdered his father for driving his biological mother to madness due to abuse and then sent her to a psychiatric ward, where she eventually died. he took in a second wife, a woman only after his money, who kept on pressuring her husband to make her daughter his successor.

contrary to popular belief, ayato's character didn't loathe his step-sister. in fact, he cared about her quite a bit, and his hate for his father grew whenever he scorned her for being “lacking” or “good for nothing.” his scummy personality led to his demise.

in the end, the step-mother was wrongly arrested, and the true murderer wasn't revealed until after the credits, where ayato was shown sitting at his father's desk and laughing to himself, followed by a scene detailing how the actual murder took place and how he tricked the investigators successfully.

the contrast between his acting as a shallow young master and a cunning mastermind had been praised by many. to tell the truth, you don't know how he was typecasted as a prince when he's clearly more suited for “villain” roles.

...even so, his current role isn't anything like the previous one! a cannon fodder and a genius murderer are nowhere near alike! he's only there to make the protagonist jealous and his character is fated to die one week after the scene with the journalist!

you suppose your disbelief must've shown on your face when each actor's respective role was announced because he couldn't help but chuckle when he looked at you.

“...by any chance, did you audition for the murderer role? because- it's hard to believe that-” you struggle to piece together words, rambling while ayato is busy signing his autograph on your phone case. (as luck would have it, you don't have paper on you. you said he could sign the back of your shirt but he politely declined, insisting the shirt would get dirty like you aren't planning to get it framed on your bedroom wall and declare it your heirloom.)

you don't even feel shy talking to him from the sheer incredulity of the situation. ayato only laughs as he hands you your phone case. “i did. but it turned out getting a minor role is a good thing since i'm planning to be on vacation soon.”

“oh. that's understandable, then...” barely. you still have complaints about it. as an actor, you respect the director's decisions, but as a loyal fan, you oughta give him a talking to and demand to give your idol the role he deserves.

“do you dislike it?”

your brows knit together, eyes momentarily leaving your now prized phone case to glance at him. “dislike what?” dislike that you're treated like this? that you have to act as a brainless villain? that you don't get much screentime? then fuck yeah.

“dislike that you're going to do that scene with me.” almost bashful, he leans closer to whisper to your ear. “you know. the one in the hotel.”

all the blood in your body rushes to your cheeks. impishly, ayato's lips curl into a smile of mischievous nature, a far cry from the elegant simper he usually holds. “i... that isn't what i... no, i mean it's not that i don't like you as my partner, but- but-!”

sufficiently entertained by your fumbling, he stops being mean and lightly pats the top of your head. “let's both do our best. truthfully, i'm not the most adept with bedroom scenes, but if you need help, you can always rely on me.”

rely how exactly?!

...

“is it too tight?”

“um... a little.”

“okay. is this better?”

“yes. am i too stiff?”

“mhm, a bit. you don't have to be nervous. it's just me.”

ah yes. it's just THE kamisato ayato pinning you down your bed, breathing down your neck, moments away from stealing your lips. nothing to worry about, clearly.

he adjusts his grip on your wrists, loosening it to your liking. his character is meant to push you down forcibly, but of course he doesn't want to actually harm you during filming—to prepare before the shoot, practice is of utmost importance. you have to give the illusion of an aggressive assault when in reality he's handling you like a piece of glass.

but you're doing this right after a day's work, and you have to blame your stupid mouth for running off without command and casually asking him if he could visit your apartment to go over the scene. in late hours of the night. in what can be interpreted as a much more scandalous suggestion.

thankfully, you're not dealing with childe so you're spared from wiggling eyebrows or phrases with flirty implications.

but him being ayato doesn't make it any easier.

“don't you feel embarrassed making out on screen...?” you laugh awkwardly in an attempt to ignore the weird tension in the air, slightly overwhelmed by his intense gaze. “i know you've done this several times, but i imagine the awkwardness never wears off.”

“not quite,” he agrees. “but a job is a job... i say that, but i'd like to make it comfortable for you, if possible. how are you faring? do you need a break?” he sits up, allowing more distance in the space between you. you shake your head.

“i'm fine. just... nervous. it's my first time doing a bedroom scene...” you look off to the side, staring at the lights beyond your window. though you're in the comfort of your own room, having an unfamiliar man on your bed makes it all feel so strange.

...as you thought, it really was weird to invite a co-actor to your bed! eh? would booking a hotel be better? but isn't it overboard to go to a hotel for practice? inviting him to your apartment is equally as bad, though?!

“all the cameramen watching can be pressuring,” he adds in afterthought, releasing one of your wrists only to pin it with a single hand. you flinch a little when his fingers skim over your cheek, but you slowly relax into the heat. “it's best if you try to forget about them.”

“i'm afraid that's easier said than done,” you murmur, voice growing weaker as he leans down once more.

“really? i consider myself a decent kisser.” he grins, sly and confident. “i'm certain i can keep other things off your mind for a while.”

“wh- i'm not supposed to enjoy it, remember?!” you squawk indignantly with flushed cheeks. he relishes in your reaction, chuckling lowly.

“oh? my bad. you'll have to work hard acting like you don't like it, then.”

his lips hover above yours, breaths mingling with each other. the proximity catches you off guard but his hand is a steady weight holding you in place, urging you to look at him.

“don't think about anyone else. just focus on me.”

五 ; scaramouche, the best friend

“fantastic. i was also looking forward to a drama adaption but you've already ruined it for me.”

“that's not nice! you're supposed to congratulate me for passing the audition!”

“my courtesy towards you has already expired 5 years ago.”

“yes. you've made that very apparent.”

“have i also made my ire apparent? it's like the universe is telling me seeing you everyday isn't enough, i have to see you on television too. frankly, we see too much of each other.”

“you say that but you're the one coming over my apartment uninvited.”

“this is where i store my beer.”

scaramouche has a perfectly functional fridge so you know he's only doing that as an excuse. he's been this way for 8 years. (of course, he'd only been storing milk at your house when you were both still underage.)

(the milk didn't do any favors for his height, unfortunately.)

his words are as harsh as ever but believe it or not, he's your closest friend. not that he'd ever admit it, even at gunpoint. it's a feat you should add to your resume, honestly, because as far as you know, you're one of the few people he doesn't hate.

he tolerates you enough that he can practice your lines with you (with enough pressure), though he delivers his part of the script with such dispassion it makes it difficult for you to get into the mood. but in his own brand of patience, he lets you reiterate your lines an endless amount of times until you feel like you get it right.

he helps you with expressions too, albeit in a manner you find hard to appreciate.

“you look like you're constipated, not about to cry.”

“your jaw is hanging open. want to catch a fly with your tongue? act like you caught your husband cheating, not like you're about to eat half my burger when you said you'd only take a bite.”

(personal grudges were involved.)

he's not interested in the film industry at all, but he was the one who pushed you to pursue your dreams when everyone else was discouraging you from taking an unstable career. he's your pillar of support; even if he's glaring at you scathingly or giving cutting words matter-of-factly, he's all bark and no bite. the moment you shed tears, he's already pulling you to his chest, remaining silent as he rubs comforting circles on your back. he doesn't even complain when you bury your face to hide in his neck, soaking his shirt with tears.

underneath all that layers, he's pretty nice.

(admittedly, you have to dig real deep.)

when you're smiling and happy, however, he takes the chance to complain. sneering, he blurts, “what's up with you taking roles in romance dramas all the time? besides, you're way too old to be in high school.”

“i still look fresh.” you batted your eyelashes at him, celebrating inwardly when he made a scandalized noise. “but i'm auditioning for a different role soon. if i get it, you'll see me as a murder victim instead of a high schooler.”

two weeks later, you get the e-mail confirming the love interest role. scaramouche goes so pale you consider taking him to the hospital.

“i know the journalist is your favorite character, but aren't you overreacting? do you hate me acting as them that much?”

he rolls his eyes so hard you almost think they're going to be permanently pointed heavenward. “are you stupid? that's not what i'm worried about. wouldn't you have to- you know- do that scene-”

“which one?”

“...the hotel scene...”

ah. well that certainly is a cause for concern. it's steamier than what you're used to; so far, you've only done light pecks or kisses that don't last too long. bedroom scenes are definitely foreign territory.

“i can only hope my partner is good-looking, then. i wouldn't mind it, if that's the case.” you laugh sheepishly, missing the way his eyes narrow in disapproval.

“...whatever. suit yourself.”

“don't tell me you still feel weird about kissing scenes?”

“i don't have issues with kissing scenes. i just don't want to see you sucking face on tv.”

“don't use that word! it's too vulgar!”

as part of work, it's inevitable you have to do a kissing scene here and there. scaramouche has never been fond of seeing them, turning away from the television or excusing himself to the bathroom whenever they come up. it's a reaction you can sympathize with; it is rather awkward to see your friend making out with someone on screen.

but he especially detests the old recording of your high school play.

long, long ago, you were part of the drama club. by association, scaramouche became a member as well—the pair of you were considered as a package deal. he was your practice partner so often that he got forced into joining.

he'd die before he ever tells anyone, but he had a knack for playing villains back then, specialized in wicked cackling and bone-chilling monologues reeking of depravity.

but in your final year, he got roped into playing the prince when the original actor sprained his ankle. incidentally, you happened to be playing the damsel in distress in your (pretty much unrecognizable) rendition of sleeping beauty.

“why is the prince shorter than-” before you could end your statement, he already slammed your face with the script.

the play was a hot mess. scaramouche couldn't play a decent prince for the life of him, so your club made the play a comedy and reworked the entire script to fit him better. the valiant and heroic character became satirical, forced into saving you not for love but to fulfill a prophecy that definitely wasn't in the original sleeping beauty.

the audience was taking the change well, intrigued by the bizarre twists and turns. the huffing-puffing prince was hilarious to watch, too.

it wasn't long before you laid in the casket, blinded by stage lights even with your eyes closed. the cardboard dragon had already been defeated, and the prince was fast approaching.

to your utter distaste, it was decided the prince would slap you awake. so you prepared for it when the last lines were being said, bracing for the stinging pain.

but then there was a rise in pitch, nearing to a yelp, then a loud thud, then the weight of two hands pressing on either side of your head, and-

your lips were touching something soft and warm.

the squeals and yells reverberated in the whole theater, the narrator stammering awkwardly and improvising ad libs last minute. your eyes snapped open and you'd gotten a front row seat to see scaramouche's blushing face, an explosion of pink dancing across his features.

after the play wrapped up and he peeled off the ridiculously frilly prince costume, he'd been set on destroying every record—alas, your friends weren't so keen on deleting such good footage. to this day, he still bristled at the thought of it; his and your first kiss showcased to hundreds of people.

it's harder to endure when he sees you kissing someone else, however. he never gets used to it, no matter how many times he tells himself to.

“oh, finally. it took so long for them to get together,” his co-worker groans as he watches the tv at the break room, airing the latest episode of the drama you star in. scaramouche glances at the screen, turning away when the camera flits to the boy with ashy brown hair. he's touching your face for the millionth time, bright teal eyes staring into yours so deeply scaramouche almost thinks he's actually besotted with you.

“you're not watching? i thought you liked this series?”

“i don't.”

for his own sake, he doesn't give the tv another glance, stepping out of the room.

this is fine. it's not the first time he's felt like this.

(it doesn't feel any less terrible.)

六 ; thoma, the former male lead

there are as many aspiring actors as there are stars in the sky; it's unfortunate only some of them shine brightly enough to be noticeable, and the rest twinkling weakly in miniscule dots.

for your case, and for your friend thoma's, you belong to the latter.

thoma is handsome, that much you can see with your own eyes, but a pretty face can be found anywhere in the industry—he lacks that special something that makes him stand out. that being said, you don't have it either, so you're on the same boat.

you're best pals, comrades in arms, partners in crime.

actual partners. once. for a romance drama.

(but not the main characters. just an obligatory side pairing, of course. you're the rebound for the second male lead.)

it was your first work, and you'd rather delete your existence than watch it again. hopefully, that also erases your dark history.

your... amateurish acting had been unsightly. the innocence you portrayed wasn't lovely, just a ghastly display of incoherent mumbling and lack of comedic timing. you wanted to tear apart each clip and toss it in some imaginary ditch where nobody can find it again.

thoma's performance wasn't as severe as yours. it wasn't half-bad, almost decent if not for the scant instances of awkwardness in scenes that required more emotional acting.

alas, the end product was just about what you expected; a series no one paid attention to. both a relief and a disappointment, because even if you hated it with every inch of your being, the effort you poured into practice and filming was real.

but after the drama ended, you kept in close contact with thoma, chugging down beer at dinners as you complained to each other about work. failed auditions, mistakes in filming, inability to get roles—you shared everything, and he did the same. each moment of embarrassment and each moment of breakthrough that called for a celebration, you told each other. through thick and thin, you had the other's back.

naturally, he was one of the first few people you called (second only to your manager) when you received the e-mail confirming your role as the love interest for arguably one of the most anticipated series to date.

he'd been overjoyed, above all, his elation overruling his surprise; it was a far cry from other violent reactions. (“are you sure it's not a prank?” scaramouche had said in disbelief.)

“you're finally going to be acknowledged!” gleefully, thoma chattered on, “that's the best news i've heard all year!”

and that was good. it was nice having his support. he'd been the one to give you a pep talk before you had to start rehearsals, soothing your fretful worries.

when you don't understand the essence of a particular scene, he's more than happy to help—“i'm just one call away!”

when you fumble your lines on camera, he laughs but not with mockery (a stark contrast to that little gremlin scaramouche)—“it's no big deal. you only have to do your best tomorrow.”

when you recount your experiences working with famous actors, he listens attentively—“you're starting to get along, huh?”

and then you would hesitate. it sounds like you're... bragging.

he says he's only one call away, but he's busy with his own work; still, he makes time for you. he listens whenever you complain, but he has bigger problems, ones that he doesn't say because he knows it'll dampen your mood. he has to hear about you acquainting with celebrities he can't even dream of meeting, like you're showing him the things he can't have.

you got lucky. what about him?

slowly, your face bleeds to commercials, advertisement banners, even huge outdoor LED displays on shopping malls featuring the drama cast—yet he remains as a blurry, nameless figure in the sea of aspiring actors.

he doesn't show it, doesn't even hint at it, but he must be... envious, right?

it's not hard to be. you've been in the industry for the same amount of time, began at the same starting line, yet only one of you found success, the other one left behind in the dust.

still. still. he never shows it. never stops being your biggest fan. never lets you think otherwise. he watches every episode, every interview. babbles how amazing your performance was in this scene. rambles how you did so well in this drama and he's so proud of you. smiles at how you have to wear a disguise now whenever you go out together so nobody can recognize you.

“it must be hard,” he comments as you hide in a secluded park, nearly getting found out by someone you noticed following you around. “you can't get around as freely anymore. are you okay? nobody follows you home or anything?”

always the worrier, you think. “of course not. my manager drives me around everywhere these days. you don't have to worry.”

thoma grins, plopping down at a bench. “that's a relief.”

for a moment, you just sit in silence, basking in the slight chilly air. the orange and pinks of sunset darken to streaks of blue, streetlights flickering to life.

“...did you know there are rumors of you dating xiao?”

you choke on air, coughing to your fist. “what?!” not that you feel flattered. not at all. (you've badgered xiao to come with you to the carnival last week, and then the waterpark a week before that with the rest of the cast, and- well. you suppose there's reason for people to speculate. you also wore matching animal headbands—how on earth you got xiao to do that, you're not sure either.)“why did that- how did it come to that?!”

“it's surprising for me, too,” thoma says. “if anything, i'd expect dating rumors with the actual male lead. or childe. he seems... particularly clingy.”

“albedo? there's no way he'd like someone like me.” you furrow your brows. if anything, it's only gotten awkward between the two of you ever since the confession scene. “ajax... well. i never know with him.” you honestly can't tell if he's flirting or not.

thoma laughs, eyes crinkling with mirth. “you look close with all of them. if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were acting a romance film outside of the project.”

you shudder. “if, and only if, i end up dating one of them, i'll attract all kinds of bad attention. it's not even good PR. i'd hate to think of all the fan girls who'll start cursing me, stealing their man and all that. hell, i'm not even dating anybody and i'm already being cursed.”

“i'll reply to every single mean comment and defend your honor.”

you snort. “do you even have the time for that?”

“...unfortunately, yes. i'm not receiving much work at the moment.”

oh.

fuck.

“i can... i can recommend you to the director. i heard he's starting a new project soon, so maybe-”

thoma frowns and you ground to a halt. “it's fine. i don't want you to do that for me.”

it sounds like you're pitying him. like you don't trust him to rise on his own.

but you want to help.

“is this why you look sad around me every so often?” he realizes, astonished.

“i... can't help but feel guilty,” you admit, unable to maintain eye contact. “every time i say a silly story about xiao, or ajax, or albedo, i feel like i'm showing off. every time i complain, you never try to compare, you only comfort me and never tell me about your problems. i want to do something for you, but i don't know what. i care about you, and i want you to do well because i know how talented you are. except everyone else doesn't, and i want them to see you.”

it's not fair. he's putting in the effort. the same as you are. but it's still not working out for him, and it's not fair.

“you... want to help me?”

you manage a weak nod. you hear an intake of breath, feel him shuffling closer. then he places his hand on top of your clenched fist.

“[name]. can you look at me?”

slowly, you raise your head. his green eyes are shining so brilliantly, bright emeralds gleaming in the moonlight.

yet they also seem... resigned.

“you're really nice, [name]. but you don't have to feel guilty. it's not your fault i'm still like this, and i'm already thankful you're worrying about me. i can't say that i was entirely... not jealous of what you have now, but that's just my problem. so you don't have to make that face, okay?”

he smiles, just like always. you open your mouth to respond, but then you feel that sensation again—that prickle at the back of your neck, the feeling that makes your hair stand on end.

“you're kind.” his hand cradles your cheek ever so softly, tenderly. your lashes tremble, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. “that's why... i hope you can forgive me.”

this position is familiar. you know this, because you've experienced this before.

long long ago, just when you started your career, you'd practiced this scene with him in the dressing room—hearts pounding, hands awkwardly finding their places;

your lips brushing together in a shy kiss.

now, his fingers are carding through your hair, the closest he's ever been to you in years. you flinch, gripping his shirt, uncomprehending, and-

you hear it.

the shutter of a camera.

七 ; kazuha, the murderer

the first time you heard a complete newbie would act the murderer role, you were in disbelief.

alright, you were an unremarkable actor before your current role, but at the very least, you had experience. not only is this person entirely new to the industry, having nothing to show for himself, he's an amateur. it sounds like a recipe for disaster.

it's even more baffling when you discover ayato, THE kamisato ayato, tried for the role and didn't get it. who the hell is this newbie? someone who got in through nepotism? preposterous! the murderer is an incredibly important character to the plot, the whole series would be ruined if he turned out to be awful!

and then you see who he actually is, and oh boy, he does not look like a murderer.

he's more like a harmless bunny. fluffy white hair, round red eyes, a polite disposition—did you arrive at the wrong set, kid? maybe you were aiming for the high school romance drama and came here by mistake?

the webtoon murderer was no pretty boy. just an average-looking dude working at a convenience store nobody suspected to be the killer because of his unassuming looks, and that was the point. yet this eye-catching hottie is the complete opposite.

but everyone else in the cast is hot as hell, so maybe the murderer needs to be hot too so he can blend in??? director, what exactly did you have in mind?

“[name]!” just as you were staring at him, he turns and notices your gaze, expression immediately brightening. like an innocent baby chick, he walks up to you. “good morning.”

it's another day of rehearsals for the upcoming episode. so far, you haven't gotten to see his true skills yet—the most he's done is act like an ordinary extra part of the background and out of the limelight. it's understandable, since his character doesn't appear much until halfway through the series.

“kazuha,” you acknowledge him, still a little unused to his... general stickiness. you don't know what he found so appealing about you but he's taken to sticking by your side most of the time. childe has teased you more than once that perhaps the little chick has a crush on you.

“do you want to eat lunch together? i know a good fried chicken place.” so it's cannibalism now?

you agree to go anyway because fried chicken sounds great. plus, as much as you came to find that even celebrities are just regular people and you managed to befriend a lot of them, there's a sense of comfort in kazuha—he's the one you felt least intimidated by.

even if you text xiao for hours now, or come over to childe's house frequently, or go on food trips with albedo, or go clothes shopping with ayato and his sister, they're still people you can't get close to without boundaries. there's still a sense of distance separating you, one that you can't cross, but can happily do so with kazuha.

being with kazuha is just comfortable. there's never a need for formalities, and rather than co-workers, you feel closer to being friends.

sometimes, you feel as if you're babysitting though. he just... screams youth. holds the freshness of an amateur, clutching to naive hopes and wishes in the path of stardom. it's endearing to see, and it's like seeing a younger version of yourself.

it's a shame you've buried those naive wishes long ago, but you hope kazuha's career goes well for him. this drama will undoubtedly be a big boost for his popularity, but will also backlash on him if he performs horribly.

“this is my treat.” kazuha pushes the plate of chicken fingers to your side of the table, eyes shaped in smiling crescents.

you shake your head but take one nonetheless. “what kind of senior would i be to make you pay? order all you want, it's on me.”

kazuha doesn't pout but comes close to it, sulking as he bites on a piece of korean bburinkle chicken. “i can't tell if you're doing this on purpose.”

“doing what?”

“letting me off easy.”

...? this kid says some pretty strange things sometimes.

“i'll order some drinks. what do you want?” he offers, standing up.

“iced tea is fine.”

“got it.”

as he moves, his wallet drops on the floor. you're about to tell him so but you think better of it, already considering the possibility of kazuha sneakily paying for your meal on the counter and ordering drinks as an excuse.

you sigh, bending down to pick it up from the ground, but the wallet faces up, revealing the contents.

the first thing you see is your face.

you nearly jolt and hit your head on the table in shock, but you manage to suppress your surprise in a garbled mess of choking. this photo is... from that modeling gig you did a year ago. but why is it in kazuha's wallet-?!

you quickly put it back on the table, just in time for kazuha to arrive. he raises an eyebrow at your flustered expression but doesn't mention anything.

he makes a face seeing the wallet he forgot on the table. you were right after all.

later, as you return to set and practice ends after a few more hours, you recount the order of events to xiao, who could not be anymore uninterested at your entire spiel. perhaps childe would've made a more engaging conversation partner, but you'd rather not deal with his teasing right now.

“-and my face was right there! as his wallet photo! what the hell does that mean?!” years ago, you never could've guessed you'd ever be able to rant to xiao's face like this. yet here you are, unashamed in front of your idol.

“isn't it obvious?” xiao isn't even pretending like he's giving you his full attention anymore, hands preoccupied with the game console in his hands. “he likes you.”

“???”

xiao sighs, dead fish eyes looking straight at your clueless expression. “don't you have a photo of me in your wallet? that's the same thing.”

“that is certainly not the same thing! you're- xiao, and i'm just me. you're popular.”

xiao almost rolls his eyes. you're way too humble for someone who gets recognized by people on the street daily. “congrats, then. you met one of your rare fans.”

that was an unbelievable thought, before. you? having a fan? whenever you searched up your name, you couldn't find anyone talking about you. your character is different; you're looking for people who's interested in you as a person, not just your role.

now, though. you've accumulated enough fame for a fan club. several maybe, even.

... but even then. that modeling gig hadn't been successful. only someone who knew about it a year ago would know about it now, since it faded from the internet pretty fast.

as far as you know, you didn't have fans a year ago.

xiao makes a realization. “...isn't this the fourth time he invited you to lunch this week?”

“yeah?”

“.....isn't he just hitting on you then?”

now that's just not in the realm of possibility. xiao is so funny.

“he literally baked you cookies the other day.”

“friends give each other cookies, xiao. i can even make some for you if you want.”

“they were heart-shaped, [name].”

(you end up making him cookies to prove a point.)

days pass by, xiao giving you increasingly odd looks, and kazuha finally proves his worth in filming.

his performance rivals that of albedo's—the soft edges of his eyes sharpening into something menacing, gaze cold and apathetic, his lips downturned to an unfamiliar sneer. you're watching the birth of a star, and it's only a matter of time before his talent will be acknowledged.

he's different from ayato as a villain. ayato is cunning, the perfect example of a mastermind. malicious and dripping with spite. but kazuha looks innocent, a cute little bun you'd never guess can make those kind of facial expressions—twisted, vicious, malevolent.

it's part of the act, but you flinch when his character turns violent; kicking down doors, smashing glass windows with a bat. holding the extras acting as murder victims by grabbing them by the hair, throwing down cops like they weighed nothing.

and then right after that scene concludes with the director's “cut!”, with (fake) blood still splattered on his face, kazuha runs up to you grinning innocently, fishing for compliments. “did i do good?”

nevertheless, you give him headpats. “you're terrifying.”

he flushes, not too pleased giving that impression to you. the next day, he acts all sweet to you again, giving you a batch of cream puffs this time. xiao snorts somewhere in the background.

eventually, your manager notices the snacks you receive regularly. “oh, it's from that kid?”

“kazuha? mhm.” you nibble happily on the pastries.

your manager chuckles. “never thought i'd see him again here.”

“...what do you mean?” blinking owlishly, you pause from chowing down. “you know him?”

“he used to work at the bakery you went to often before, didn't he? the kid you kept telling to watch your first drama. you forced him to watch the episodes on your phone during his break.”

...............FUCK.

you do remember doing something that stupid. during the filming of your first drama, you frequently stopped by at a nearby bakery to buy snacks, and you remember there was a cute kid working there. you often pinched his cheeks and cajoled him into watching the series.

but when filming ended, you couldn't go to the bakery anymore. the filming location was far from your house, and the bakery was simply out of the way.

did that kid... kazuha... support you all this time? from that early on?

you curse your manager for telling you this right before filming. your mind is a mess, having trouble connecting that cute, precious child (why are you always calling him a kid, he's barely 2 years younger than you) to the smooth and flirty man today.

it's an important scene today too! the confrontation between the detective, his partner, and the murderer. it needs your complete concentration, and you just don't have it right now. you've never seen the director lose his temper, but you can probably manage to do it today.

albedo is performing well in front of the cameras as always, so much like a protagonist that you feel like you're watching from a television screen already. but you have a job to do too, so you do your best in the spotlight, pretending to be unaffected.

kazuha looks even scarier up close, so unhinged and unreadable. you know what his next move will be, written on the script, but that doesn't make you any less uneasy.

“you're bold,” kazuha drawls, playing with the knife in his hand, “coming to see me by yourselves.”

you can hear what he's saying, but it feels like your head is full of cotton. why are you so distracted? “so it really is you,” you speak, praising yourself for acting normally.

the other two exchange lines, and you thank the heavens you're mostly silent for the time being. for the meantime, you have a few moments to collect yourself; there's a chase right after this, and you'd rather not do something stupid like trip over yourself in the middle of something so serious.

...

sometimes, you're gifted with foresight.

but! to be fair! you did not trip over yourself! the staff forgot to fix the cables in one part of the set, and you tripped over those. so no. not entirely your fault.

albedo is too far away—he's on the side trying to unlock the doors with his brain powers somehow, and you're the bait distracting the murderer before he does so.

ordinarily, you would not trip over the cables. you have able eyes, and you could easily step over them. but you're at the stairs.

...you're at the flight of stairs. and you're about to fall over. FUCK. WHY DID THE DIRECTOR WANT A CHASE SCENE IN THE STAIRS.

you brace for the impact, hands outstretched, but then in a complete break of character, kazuha reaches for you.

you're leaning too far to the edge now. there's no way to pull you back to even ground. kazuha grits his teeth, pulling you to his chest, and in an immense show of strength, twists around so he'd be beneath you.

you descend in a disgraceful tangle of limbs. you're enveloped in a warm embrace, cheek resting on a firm chest. a chin is tucked into the crook of your neck, heavy breaths tickling the skin of your shoulder.

you jolt back to action when you realize what just happened. “your head-!” you scramble to touch his head, feeling for any bumps or even worse, blood. kazuha hisses, so you soften the touch, tracing over this body to check for other injuries. he became a literal mattress. “what about your back? did you get sprained anywhere?”

“i'm fine,” kazuha wheezes under your caressing.

“you don't sound fine! who are you trying to fool? you didn't have to do that!” you grab his cheeks. they're as soft as ever, just as pinch-able as you remember.

“i'm not hurt. it's because you're... on top of me...” bashfully, he looks away. you blink, glancing down at your position. you're straddling his hips, at a proximity entirely inappropriate.

...his hands are still on your waist.

this kazuha is too different from two minutes ago! wasn't he just chasing you down the corridor in murderous intent?! now he's blushing underneath you, like a pure maiden you defiled!

what's with this soft, sugary atmosphere?! last time you remembered, this was a murder mystery drama!

(when the drama ends, you're casted for a romance college series with kazuha as the male lead. figures.)

YOU KNOW ITS GOOD WHEN IT FEELS LIKE YOU'RE READING A LITERAL DRAMA ISTG BESTIE GOT ALL THE POINTS TO MAKE A GOOD DRAMA THAT HAS BALANCED POINT AND PLOT I- 👏👏👏👏🙌🙌🙌🙌👏✨✨😩🤌✨✨✨✨✨

lights, camera, action!

premise. in which you get yourself involved in a lot of unscripted drama. (genshin celebrity au.)

includes. xiao, childe, albedo, ayato, scaramouche, thoma & kazuha.

next episode. watch here.

note. i surprised myself with how much plot this actually has.

零 ; you, the typecasted “passerby a”

the path to stardom is an arduous journey, but you've already abandoned your dreams not even halfway down the road.

you are far from the fresh newbie you once were. maybe you hoped to be famous at some point, your name sung in ardent praises and joint with stellar performances, but you've never received major roles that strayed from “classmate b” or “the protagonist's best friend” who only ever appears to give advice.

the closest you've been to getting a main character role is being part of the second pairing of a cheesy romance drama that never became a hit, a series with a generic plot and a bland cast of no name actors.

but you can't deny the spark of hope lighting your heart when you receive word of an audition for an upcoming drama adaptation of a well-loved webtoon series, a series you are an avid fan of. it's a murder mystery following a genius detective striving to solve a serial killings cold case, with snippets of romance and the occasional comedy, grim as the premise may be.

once the drama adaptation was confirmed, it quickly became a hot topic; fans are anticipating the casting and filming crew, expecting nothing less of perfection to honor the brilliant source material. by all accounts, it's big news, and snagging even a minor role would definitely earn you more recognition.

if you're chosen to act as the victim in the first murder, you would already be beyond satisfied—being part of such a masterpiece is enough to make you overjoyed. you don't have too high hopes but there's no harm in trying for the audition, right?

yes. no harm at all.

that's if you don't count the brain damage you suffered when your head slammed against the wall from complete shock as you received an e-mail from the staff confirming your admittance to the project.

as the protagonist's love interest, no less—a journalist investigating the serial murders to enact revenge on their younger brother's stead, the third victim in the killings.

一 ; xiao, the celebrity crush

acting practice is generally considered a casual affair in every project you've taken on, yet you couldn't help but spend hours trying to make yourself look presentable (and avoid looking like a beggar compared to your shining idols when you stand side by side). you may be a tad bit overdressed, but you'd hate to make a fool out of yourself on day one.

except that is exactly what you do. because you're a walking disaster.

in your defense, it's not even your fault! the moment you step foot in the venue, you're ushered by the staff to a row of waiting rooms... without any nameplates attached by the doors and no indication of where you're supposed to go. left with no other choice, you mentally count eeny meeny miny moe and surge forward for the chosen room.

you can't tell if you're tremendously lucky or the most unfortunate person on earth, but you come face to face with a person you never thought you'd see in the flesh.

the thing is, the staff never informed you of your future colleagues. the casting is a well-kept secret, even from the actors themselves, to prevent information leaks to the media before the official announcement.

you really wish you had time to prepare yourself before you had to meet xiao, though.

he's lounging by the sofa, curls of dark hair sprawled on the cushions. his face is obscured by an eye mask, fashioned in a cute design you wouldn't expect him to take an interest in at all. if you took a picture of him right now and printed them as merchandise, you're sure they'll sell like hotcakes, but a selfish part of you wants to keep this sight to yourself.

yes, because... because you've been crushing on him since forever!

you've seen his growth as an actor as far back as five years ago, when he only just started his career! he made the perfect mysterious pretty boy male lead, and the romance film he starred in was such a good classic! but he didn't get typecasted, no no. he went beyond his pretty boy persona to work in other productions, where he acted as the crazed antagonist in a horror movie. that, too, eventually became a classic film for any horror movie fan. his murderous glare is just too damn scary!

he's excellent in action-packed movies as well, there's never a need for stunt doubles with him. you've seen his behind the scene clips, and they're just awesome. he doesn't speak much in interviews, his replies clipped and hardly substantial, but you try to catch each piece of precious footage.

oh fuck i shouldn't be here. you snap back to your senses and reach for the doorknob, but the creaking sound of the door prompts xiao to twitch.

a pale hand drags down the eye mask to his chin, and his dazed golden eyes pin you in place.

“...who are you?”

it's a simple question, but it's like you're trying to prove your innocence to court. you begin to ramble, introducing yourself in a series of stutters, and explaining how you got to his room. you insist you aren't there to peep on him and it was a complete accident.

“...so you entered my room by mistake,” xiao summarizes your ten paragraphs-worth of explanation into a single concise sentence. he doesn't look angry, but doesn't look pleased by your presence either. “it's fine. i could guess the staff was too busy to show you your room.” he sits up properly, fixing his hair messy from his nap. “you're the journalist, right? i look forward to working with you.”

rather than a job, filming feels more like a reward. you get to see xiao everyday, get to talk to xiao even if it's just you commenting on the weather, get to eat with him in lunch breaks (you're seven seats away from him but that counts, right?) and get to act alongside him-

and xiao is the second male lead. you get to act romantic scenes with him. you get to act lovey-dovey with xiao in a police uniform because he's a policeman in this show.

each brush of your hands together sends your heart racing in a speed too fast to be healthy, but as an actor, you're expected to keep your composure and deliver your lines properly.

(the makeup artist is always wondering why you look so red on screen when she swears she didn't put much blush on you, though.)

“don't you need to ask something of me?”

you blink innocently as you peel off the heavy costume, the last scene for the day finally wrapped up. xiao must be feeling hot too because he's also wearing a huge coat in the middle of summer—his face is beet red.

“ask you for something...?” your cheeks burn bright. “oh no, was i too obvious?”

xiao awkwardly looks away. “you could say that.”

how mortifying! you fan your face, hoping your makeup isn't too melted. you already feel like an idiot, no need to look like one.

but xiao already thinks you're stupid. no turning back now.

“o... okay... since the cat is out of the bag, then...” you pull out a pen and a piece of paper, holding it out to him. “please give me your autograph!”

“...what.”

“i've been your fan for the last five years! i don't know who ratted me out, actually i'm about 87% sure it's childe, but since you know-”

“wait- what? five years?”

“.........if that's not what you're talking about, then what is?”

“no, i thought you wanted me to ask me ou-”

he seals his lips at the most crucial moment, horrified at himself. “sorry. i'll ask you another time.”

... and then he walks away. just like that.

“xiao, what about my autograph?!”

“forget it!”

“why all of a sudden?!”

二 ; childe, the scandal magnet

notorious for the massive number of scandals under his belt, it's a surprise to find ajax (with a stage name of childe) in the set of this major production. you're advised by your manager to steer clear of him and avoid unnecessary contact to prevent sullying your reputation, but you can't deny his acting prowess—he shines on the stage, a performance you can't tear your eyes away from.

he's incredibly versatile, capable of taking on any role and absorbing the character to make it come to life, almost as if he is its incarnation.

it starts as a simple game before actual practice, each actor asked to draw lots from pieces of paper scribbled with different roles, and given an accompanying script to base off of.

everyone laughs when childe, ironically enough, draws the “womanizer who cheats on his lover.”

unfortunately, you couldn't laugh along with them because you picked the “lover” role. your incredible (read: atrocious) luck astounds you.

it goes just about as well as everyone expects it. childe, seemingly in his element, plays the part of a perfect scumbag. it's easy to hate him like this, all flamboyant gestures and empty promises of “you are my one and only.” his performance inspires you to try harder, and so you raise your voice, your passionate screams of indignance almost sounding heart-felt, like you truly are experiencing a severe betrayal.

when childe sweeps you into his arms, whispering platitudes dripping with honey, you're nearly fooled into forgiving him.

it's hard to get yourself out of the role when the director ends the scene, satisfied with the act. childe's expression returns to its usual lazy grin, a far cry from the smug smirk prior, and he pats your head to wake you up. “nice work. i really felt like i was getting scolded by an angry girlfriend.”

dazzled by his brilliance, you barely have enough coherence to return the compliment.

your awe doubles when he performs his next act.

much to xiao's horror, he picks the “dying younger brother” role, a direct accompaniment to childe's “grieving older brother.” they make an... interesting pair, but they're also professionals, and the scene they perform almost makes you weep real tears.

xiao lays limp on the floor like a lifeless doll, and childe cradles him to his chest, delivering his lines with sobs and cries that sound too real to be an act. his heart-wrenching wails bounce from the walls, going straight to strike your heart. his voice cuts through the air, demanding your attention, as if telling you to keep your eyes on him and to never look away.

it's nothing like the sleazebag character he was playing twenty minutes ago, and you have to remind yourself your scripts are only given once you've drawn lots; he had a maximum of five minutes to read through it, process the information, decide how to deliver his lines, and visualize himself performing it in the best way possible.

like this, he doesn't look at all like the scandalous man everyone makes him out to be. he's just an earnest man who's good at pretending to be someone else.

it's terrifying to think about. did he ever act like his true self when the cameras stopped rolling, then? was he just playing the part of a “good co-worker” when he was talking to you earlier? was the whole “scandalous womanizer” image something he set up for himself? a reputation he deliberately made to attract the media's attention? it isn't unusual for actors to cause drama as a publicity stunt, after all.

no, that doesn't make sense. no matter how desperate, nobody would like bad rumors circulating about them. as much as your name is spread around, it also goes hand in hand with distasteful gossip. childe is plenty famous, even before the scandals began popping up, so he never really needed them and they would only further ruin his image...

...on the contrary, if there's anyone getting famous from those scandals, it's...

...the girls he supposedly hooked up with?

rather than making those scandals for fame, doesn't it make more sense if those girls fabricated stories and took advantage of his reputation?

it's no secret that meddlesome paparazzi and hardcore fans obsessively pry into celebrities' personal lives. if they sniff a hint of dating scandals, they don't stop digging. furthermore, once the media releases information to the public, people will take it as fact. in actuality, it doesn't matter what's true or not; what the public wants to believe becomes the “truth.”

if the people deemed it plausible, if they thought “childe would definitely do something like this, so of course if the girl says they hooked up in the dressing room, they did”...

...even if childe denied those claims, nobody would believe him. not even you. you didn't think about it until now. in fact, at the very beginning, you already had assumptions about him, devouring the media's lies.

childe laughs when you apologize to him. it was certainly a shock when you suddenly knocked on his door, then the instance he opened it, you began to bow deeply, nearly slamming your forehead to his chest.

“i'm used to it, don't worry.” he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “you were so stiff around me, it was pretty obvious what you thought of me. but you didn't have to apologize.”

“no, i do! i was being disrespectful!” you insist, taking him by surprise when you grab the lapels of his jacket. “you're nothing like what they say! i'm sure you've been through a lot just because everyone keeps saying whatever they want, without thinking of your feelings... and everyone laughed that one time we played the acting game... i... i can't take back the time i've spent being suspicious of you, but i want to change that!” you stare directly at his widened eyes, determined. “i want to know you better, ajax!”

the use of his real name stuns him and for a moment, all he can do is gape at you.

then he narrows his eyes, his lips shaping to a firm line, and he tugs you inside the room.

a yelp unwittingly escapes your mouth when you're pressed against the door, his arms caging either side of you. his expression is unfamiliar now, unlike anything you've ever seen before; uncharacteristically stern, harsher around the edges, spiteful gaze boring holes into your skull.

“you want to know me better... some pretty words you just said. what do you actually want?”

your breath hitches when his hand caresses your cheek, but the striking glare he's giving you makes you think he wants to sink his nails deep into your skin instead.

“this isn't the first time someone tried to approach me, you know. what, you want to be friends with me? you're going to ask if i can invite you to my house? then you're going to tell people how i took advantage of you while you were sleeping?”

“what- no! of course not!” you yell, face heating up just by the thought of it. “nevermind lying to the media, i don't have the guts to sleep over a guy's house i barely even know!”

his expression falls to a deadpan. “oh. my bad. you're quite pure, aren't you. of course you wouldn't.”

“that's what makes you believe me?!”

the arms caging you falls to his sides as he walks away, leaving you dumfounded. “right, right, sorry for scaring you. can't you let me off easy? it's pretty hard to trust someone when you're in my position. if i treat you to dinner, will you forgive me?”

“i... i came here with good intentions... now i feel as though i was harassed...”

his usual smile falls on his face, like he's a completely different person from the man who trapped you just seconds prior. “what do you think about seafood? i'll let you eat as many crabs as you like. i really am sorry, promise. if you were saying the truth earlier, then i'd be glad to know you better too, [name].”

you give him a look. “...if they saw us entering a restaurant together, wouldn't that attract rumors?”

“hm? is everyone so narrow-minded they think anyone who eats together is in an illicit relationship?”

the answer is no, so you eat as much crabs and shrimp as you want to your heart's content. you're getting your food's worth for that fright he caused earlier. childe isn't complaining anyway, only impressed with how much dishes you're practically inhaling.

in any case, it isn't a date. there is no ambience or heart-pounding romance of any sort. not when you're overtly taking advantage of his money and childe's taking ugly pictures of you mid-bite.

but then, of course, the media takes note of it; the topic of your outing is brought up at an interview, to which you fret and panic because you were never popular enough to be interviewed before, and they're asking if you're fucking childe, of all things-

“what are you talking about?” childe pops up behind you, unhelpfully wrapping an arm around your shoulders as if he wants to add fuel to the fire. he chuckles, tilting your chin to lean closer to his face. “i'm just pursuing [name]. nothing's happened yet. unless [name] wants to...”

you take it back. he's definitely at fault for having this many scandals.

三 ; albedo, the male lead

the first day of rehearsals, the protagonist of the drama isn't even there.

to your astonishment, nobody complains about it. twenty minutes into practice (most scenes skipped due to the protagonist's absence), the director gets a call and excuses himself outside. less than a minute after, he informs everyone the star of the show won't be able to make it.

the actors trade unsure looks, wondering what the hell is going on, but the rest of the staff remain unfazed. the director notices and explains, “it's albedo. his busy schedule can't be helped. his manager called me to let me know his flight got delayed.”

and then it makes much more sense.

albedo is well-renowned in the film industry, an extraordinary talent who first came into showbiz three years ago. it's not at all a long time, but it's long enough for him to receive countless awards and bountiful movie offers—he was just born for the stage. if anything, this drama is lucky to have him in it, not the other way around. a late arrival for a rehearsal is nothing. he could probably disappear for two months without telling anybody and when he comes back, the director would beg him to act for the drama for twice the pay. (an exaggeration, but you get the point.)

and... you're expected to partner with him? you? a speck of dust compared to the sun that is albedo? you have to match his brilliance and not look like a turd beside him on screen? you have to be equals with him and- and you actually get to- you get to hold hands with him, kiss him, and- those couple stuff? everything? his fans would murder you if your mother doesn't kill you first! you know she likes his movies a lot!

the fourth day of rehearsals, he finally comes to the set. not with an air of arrogance or excessive pride. he just exudes confidence, strutting to the room in an elegant poise you can't hope to replicate. he gives his sincere apologies for the inconvenience to the staff, all polite bows and offer of recompense.

“but there's no reason to worry,” he declares, gaze steely. “i won't make any more trouble for you.”

he refuses when the director suggests taking it slowly and instead goes straight to practice. but it doesn't look like he needs any of it at all.

as if he's been here all along, he falls into place with the other actors, not a single awkward pause in their scripted conversations and everything smooth sailing. he delivers a flawless performance, like the cameras are already rolling and he's practiced for tens of thousands of times already, not read through a portion of the script in the car ride towards the set.

there is one thing he's struggling with, however.

“you're too stiff with each other,” the acting coach comments, frowning slightly at the two of you and cutting the scene short. “rather than bickering, it's like you're actually arguing, and that's not what we want to portray.”

you blink, exchanging a look with albedo, and look down at his collar you're still gripping.

maybe you do look like you're trying to strangle him instead of pulling him closer to your face for some good ol' sexual tension.

originally, the characters you play didn't get along well in the beginning of the webtoon; the genius detective didn't like to rely on others, conceited enough to believe he can solve the case on his own, hence seeing the journalist as a hindrance since they kept pestering him to let them help him, and he help them in turn so they could work together. the detective didn't deem them “useful” for the investigation, and it was only much later that he (begrudgingly) admitted the journalist can be helpful... sometimes. thus officially starting their partnership for the investigation, and later on, partners in the romantic sense.

there were quite a lot of bickering scenes before the actual romance commenced, and you're struggling with finding a delicate balance to that—where exactly do you draw the line between petty squabbles and severe disputes? how do you show the chemistry between these two characters while butting heads in every instance? the enemies to lovers trope is harder to act than it seems.

“try to get familiar,” the director suggests. “you're stiff because you don't know each other well. you're too shy to touch or get closer. why not leave early and go on a little date by yourselves to fix that?”

“is that really okay...?” you say, unsure. besides being hesitant to leave earlier than the rest, you're also nervous to be alone with your co-actor.

“if he says it's fine, then it's fine.” albedo shrugs, starting to walk towards the dressing room and tugging you along. “but if we're going outside, we should wear disguises. it's also fine if we borrow some of your clothes, right?”

“of course, of course~” the director indulges him. “have fun, kiddos.”

as it turns out, albedo is a master of disguise. he doesn't even have a wig or anything but you almost can't recognize him clad in casual attire. he also almost looks like a stylist while figuring out what outfit to give you, and you're left in awe when you look at yourself in the mirror wearing clothes you wouldn't normally pick out yourself but they look really, really good on you, and they do a good job changing your image too. not that you think anybody would recognize you anyway, unpopular and all.

“where do you want to go?” you trail after him on the way to the bus station, always a step or two behind. albedo makes a humming noise, subtly slowing his pace to match your strides.

“why not just go wherever our feet takes us?” he pipes up. “as long as it's not teeming with people, of course.”

so with zero preparation at all, you do just that. you stop by a bookstore, with you showing him around the comics section and him adamantly insisting the plain hard-cover literature he's picking up is a thrilling epic that will definitely pique your interest, [name] stop yawning-

you pay a visit to the arcade, where you find albedo is clumsy with his feet and can't play dance dance revolution to save his life, but also unnecessarily adept with claw machines because he has a little sister who loves getting stuffed toys. you compete over who gets the most points in the basketball game to decide who pays for dinner, end up in a tie, and move on to a zombie shooting game. you win by a narrow margin and albedo tells you so, but you point a finger at the results and tell him to cough up the cash. then you play around in the photo booth using the craziest filters, and you take the liberty of pasting stickers everywhere.

dinner is a simple affair. albedo looks ready to go to some michelin star establishment but you introduce him to a sushi restaurant that's relatively cheap. he's impressed by the way you swipe at the conveyor belt so quickly. okay, so you may look like an utter glutton right now, but it's fine. not the first time you embarrassed yourself in front of a co-actor.

lastly, you stop by an ice cream shop to get gelato. your appetite is “awe-inspiring,” as albedo put it, but you argue there's always room for dessert.

“will this actually help us, though...?” you sigh, eating a spoonful of gelato. “i don't understand the difference between bickering and arguing.”

“we've done it the whole day,” albedo reminds you, using a tissue to clean the residue of cream on your cheek. “we'll do just fine.”

you stare at him in disbelief. “...is this also one of your habits from taking care of your sister?”

“ah. you could say that.”

just as albedo said, filming goes a lot more smoothly. the playful air is a huge improvement compared to last time when they said you looked ready to beat him to submission. the romantic tidbits are coming along well, too, spun between action-packed scenes where you're pressed against albedo in a slim locker to hide from the murderer lurking nearby or sweet slice of life moments outside of the investigation.

at last, the confession scene is upon you. just a while back, the two main characters got into a full-blown argument; the detective was irritated by the lack of progress in the investigation, and deduced his feelings were distracting him. he decided to keep the journalist at arm's length, never allowing them to go close. of course, they didn't react well to this, and so they pester him again, but the argument became heated and it eventually peaked to “you're an inconvenience to me!” which led them to separate ways.

the journalist, desperate to solve the case on their own, approached people who seemed to be in the know. they were nearly pulled into bed by an attractive yet suspicious man, who's genuinely interested in the journalist romantically and used intel on their younger brother's murder as leverage, but they get interrupted by the detective pounding on the door.

he dragged the journalist out, thoroughly upset at the notion of selling themself, but they deny the accusations and claim they were tricked.

the argument stretched longer, the both of them airing out everything they dislike about the other, but the detective accidentally slipped and confessed his real feelings. the journalist, who never thought of him that way, was frozen on the spot.

it's a long scene requiring much preparation. aside from the amount of lines you have to memorize, there's also a hotel suite you have to borrow for the shoot, the cameras they need to set for the “dragging” scene that has a lot of movement, the really awkward half-bedroom scene you have to act with your co-actor, and the fact that you have to take the confession scene before the sun completely set.

it's truly a busy day. anxiety plagued you the moment you came out of the makeup room, knowing what comes next.

but it's a job, and one especially you couldn't afford to slack on. the kind-of-but-not-really-bedroom scene goes without a hitch, but albedo interrupts you a tad bit too early; the top of your shirt is barely unbuttoned but he's already storming in, ripping you out of the other man's grasp.

the director doesn't chide him for it however, and he drags you out of the hotel as planned. you're a bit frazzled by the suddenness of it all, clothes still rumpled, but it adds on to your acting and your stuttering questions make the scene look more natural.

albedo's fury seeing you in such a disheveled state seems almost genuine, too.

“why are you acting like this?!” you pull your wrist away in an effort to make him let go, as described in the script, but albedo refuses to. an improvisation, perhaps? but now of all times...? “you didn't care about me before! are you trying to be nice now? didn't you say you were sick of putting up with me? you hated me for being stupid, right? guess what, then! i was stupid enough to get almost taken advantage of! if you're just going to lecture me, let go. i don't want to hear any of it. i already know how much of a fool i am.”

you're supposed to back away now, but he doesn't let you do that either. for one step backward, he takes two forward, nose nearly brushing with yours in the close proximity. your face heats up in a combination of confusion and embarrassment, your ears barely registering his lines.

“...never listen to me. you always go off on your own and i still think you're a reckless idiot. you're noisy and brash and you annoy me to no end,” he says in one breath, staring deeply into your eyes. “but seeing you with someone else annoys me even more. to the point i'd abandon everything just to get you back.”

“w...” your throat is incredibly dry. “why would you...”

“whether i like it or not, you've become important to me. i love your stupid laugh and your stupid smile. i love the way you look at me, and i don't want you to look at anyone else. you drive me crazy when you put yourself in danger because i don't want to lose you. i want you so badly that i want you to only think about me, spend time only with me, only love me. i-”

you're fairly certain this is nowhere near his lines in the script.

“i love you so much that it scares me.” his voice trembles as his hand lifts to cup your face, something that finally bears semblance to the original scene. “it was wrong of me to say those horrible things. not just last time. i've been terrible to you, and no amount of apologies can make up for it. but i ask only one more chance.”

his finger hovers at the corner of your lip.

“[name], won't you only look at me?”

you gape like a fish out of water, unable to reply. you're trying to remember your lines, flipping through the mental script in your head, but the director's “cut!” pulls you back to reality.

albedo blinks, getting himself out of the role, and he lets go of you reluctantly, the heat of his fingers lingering on your skin.

“the scene was good, but you said the wrong name.” the director laughs. “it's alright. we can still shoot where we last left off. return to your positions.”

as told, you go back to your previous position. you give a furtive glance at albedo, whose cheeks flare in humiliation. he's probably never done such a rookie mistake before. there's no reason to be that flustered about it; you've made the same error plenty of times.

“i apologize. i won't do it again next time.”

(if he's going to confess, the least he can do is make his own lines for the occasion.)

next episode ; watch here. preview →

四 ; ayato, the cannon fodder

五 ; scaramouche, the best friend

六 ; thoma, the former male lead

七 ; kazuha, ???

can we.. can we talk about how good and beautifully written this is???

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: artist!hyunjin x fem!artist!reader

wc: 5.9k

warnings: LOTS of tension, piv /unprotected sex and cumming inside, otherwise hella soft and lovely :3

Your footsteps halled through the emptied rooms of the University building you were so used to walking by, so familiar with. Every painting and sculpture – fragile sculptures, that you passed by oh so carefully, not daring to damage them in any way – were as though engraved in your mind, the gentle strokes and lines of colour placed so delicately onto every work, and you knew them all by heart. A smile crossed your lips any time you walked past the halls of the school you were privileged enough to visit, each and every piece of art representing the student’s talents precisely, students and classmates you’ve visited courses with, all different yet connected by one simplicity; the love to create, the wish to pursue an artist’s career.

Right before entering the room you aimed for, you passed one of your very own sculptures presented in the hallways of your art school, something you’ve created for the very first exhibition you were allowed to participate in, the memories of the day flooding your mind any time the art piece met your eyes. Admittedly, not with exceptionally good memories, the pressure and limited time and the judging eyes of teachers and professors wouldn’t let you sleep for days on end. But maybe it was for a good cause, because now that you were at the brick of graduating, experiencing the same old pressure and limited time and having to bear the judging faces or teachers and professors – you were used to it already, didn’t find it all that bad altogether.

Though, of course, the nearly unmanageable amount of work you had to put into your last project, into the sculpture that would decide your by far most important grade was overwhelming, caused you to spend night and day in the studio, the bags under your eyes a constant accompany lately.

You’ve made your way to your assigned seat in the classroom, your half-finished sculpture standing beside the table, wrapped in moist foil to keep the fictile in a shape you could still craft on, even after days of no usage. It was mostly dark around you, the room long fallen into a slumber it seemed, the only source of light the faint rays of the downing sun and desk lights that students forgot to turn off after a day of work. The professors hated that, scolded each and every one the next day at how much electricity that’d cost the school, so whenever you stayed overtime you made an effort to cut off any light source you didn’t need beforehand, simply to not get an earful the next morning.

It hasn’t even crossed your mind that another person could possibly still work that hour, as it was long after closing time already and you’ve always been the last one seen walking the school halls lately. But a couple seats behind yours you could make out a figure, could see eyes looking back at your fearful ones and you took a step back, until the darkened figure got up from its place and started to speak, suddenly, much to your displeasure as fear ran through your veins.

“Oh god, I’m uh- sorry for scaring you, I didn’t know someone else would come here--”

You recognized the tone as a hast one, words speaking a quick reassurance and you noticed you knew the voice, a male voice that you surely were familiar with but not enough to grasp it yet. Your muscles relaxed nevertheless after the wave of shock has washed over you, seeing it was simply another student that decided to voluntarily work additional hours just like you, maybe graduating as well, or just an overachiever.

You chuckled quietly, already finding amusement at just how scared you were moments back, and you were quick to mumble something back to the supposedly classmate that was standing afar from you – you were yet unable to see his face, the dark shadowing out most details in the room.

“Ah no, it’s alright. I just didn’t know…”

Your voice drifted off when the male finally stepped into the dim light of the classroom, revealing his persona, which – you couldn’t lie – made you gasp slightly. It was no other than Hwang Hyunjin, another graduate, not in your class though. You only knew him from friends, and friends of friends, having talked to him only a couple of times, those conversations stored in your memory as nice ones. He was smart and funny, a calm guy who didn’t seem to like the crowds much, always seen by himself or with a small group of friends only. He was undeniably pretty, and you’ve heard hardworking too, and those two qualities alone made him by far the most popular guy in school, making everyone fancy the boy secretly, or so painfully obvious that you’ve sometimes felt bad for him. You weren’t one to deny his attractiveness, nevertheless you have never developed a crush on the student like most others, figuring it must be his popularity that icked you off in a way. Or maybe it was an unintentional voluntarily thing, maybe there were butterflies after all that you wanted to deny, simply to not be one of many who wanted him.

You saw Hyunjin’s face form into a small smile after he recognized you, though his brows were slightly furrowed in confusion, given your unfinished sentence.

“Oh my god, it’s you, you uh- you scared me, I didn’t really think that anyone would like- be here either, yeah.”

You chuckled again as you fought the urge to scrunch up your nose in embarrassment. You wouldn’t particularly call yourself a social butterfly, and though you’ve talked to the boy more than one time already you had to admit that neither of those times you were fully sober, alcohol making most of the conversation as the majority of things you talked about were uni things and professors. You remembered meeting at a get together of first semester students for the first time, and then occasionally afterwards when friends and classmates decided to go out for a drink or two. So yes, right now you were at a loss for words, unsure of how to talk with him, what to talk about.

And if you thought about it, your slight social awkwardness wasn’t the only thing that made you as nervous as you were, that made your palms sweat just the slightest bit, almost unnoticeably. It was Hyunjin’s somewhat strong presence, if you could call it that, a kind of aura that always seemed to circulate him wherever he went, making everyone passing him turn their heads at him. It wasn’t intimidating, nor felt it intentional from his side. It was just there, making him nearly desirable in every sense of the word.  

Hyunjin cocked his head, gave you a smile like two acquaintances, mere strangers would give each other, and it was contagious, made you smile back at him.

“Yeah, I’m graduating and I’m- far not done yet… this was the only room open.”

You were aware, on your request you were allowed to use the atelier by night as long as you closed it after and handed over the keys to the professors first thing in the morning, and since that has never went wrong you were trusted by both your teachers and the janitor who was supposed to close all doors by 8pm. For out standers it seemed like special treatment, some students eyeing you whenever you stayed longer to keep working – at the end of the day it was your own decision though, and except Hyunjin you’ve never seen other students stay voluntarily, so if everyone else will lack behind while you’ll have your project ready and done it surely would be their fault, you figured.

After his comment you were unsure as to how you should continue the conversation, so you nodded at him, gave him a smile which you hoped looked like a genuine one and made your way to your seat. Should you restrict on using your headphones for tonight, to not seem rude while the boy was sitting behind, painting away as he did? Or would he start listening to music too, allowing you to dedicate your whole concentration on your sculpture as you so often did, without having the distraction of having to talk to him? Which would sound rude if you spoke it out, but you’d rather finish off early than holding small talk which surely would turn awkward anyways.

But the man started speaking, when he was halfway back at his desk again, leaving you with no option than to converse with him – which again, you had no problem with, you simply feared for the conversation to die out into something embarrassing that both of you had to bear with for the rest of the night while you were working away.

“Oh, this is your sculpture? It caught my eye when I walked in, it- stands out. It’s pretty.”

Hyunjin had a shy undertone in his words, which didn’t make his compliment sound any less genuine, though. He inspected your work, and suddenly you felt nervous, flustered. It wasn’t the first positive comment you’ve received from classmates and friends, yet this particular one, from Hyunjin, felt different. More personal. Which admittedly was ironic, given you barely knew the man.

“Ah, thank you so much. I- uh- I tried.”

You chuckled, and Hyunjin fell into a small fist of giggles as well, your answer more sarcastic than he expected. And though you feared it, the night proceeded with comfortable small talk you and him shared. It wasn’t a serious chat, filled with jokes and laughs, Hyunjin being as funny and witty as you remembered him to be, and talking to him was easy. It felt like you were close friends, almost, teasing at each other from time to time when the other grunted out in frustration about an accidental mistake, trying to fix it while the other merely chuckled at the attempts.

After a while of comfortable silence – you figured that two hours must have passed already, surprised at how fast the time flew while spending it with Hyunjin – the man several seats behind you sighed out in what sounded like frustration, tsking and clicking his tongue frequently while the sound of eraser on canvas filled your ears. Another mistake, you thought, though you decided not to tease this time. It was late, and given that he was a graduate as well, every wrong brush and line of his must be stressing him out to exhaustion – since you didn’t feel any different.

“Hey, you good over there?”

At the sound of your words, intended to help, Hyunjin’s eyes found yours and he chuckled in a somewhat defeated manner before looking back at his piece, eyeing it critically. You’ve realized you haven’t yet asked him what exactly he was working on, though you were of those people yourself who didn’t like others gawking and staring at an unfinished project, especially if it were experts in the same field. And maybe he was the same, so you stopped your curiosity to get the best of you with this one.

“Ugh, I’m not sure, I can’t like-- get the anatomy right on this one, I think.”

The man threw his head back in frustration, long, slender fingers – slightly chalk stained – running through his dark hair, pushing the longish strands out of his face. It bothered you, in a way it shouldn’t be bothering you, your eyes fixed on his hands before you came back to your senses again, quickly, giving your head a slight shake to get rid of the shiver that deemed to run down your spine, for less than a second only, yet you still noticed.  

“Uh- can I- can I see what you’re making? Maybe I can help out…?”

Your words were hesitant in a way; though you had to admit that anatomy was essential in what you were doing, and you’d claim that sculpturing years and years on end has taught you to have a decent understanding of it, so maybe he could use your eye after all. And the look Hyunjin gave you only confirmed your suspicion, his eyes almost pleading, already laced with thankfulness as he nodded at you, another sigh leaving his plump lips – you shouldn’t have noticed how puffy they were, how reddened pink his mouth contrasted against his pale skin, yet you did, especially now that you didn’t have a choice but step closer to him. 

You tried concentrating on the painting ahead though, which – now that you were directly looking at it, inspecting his work – you could barely take your eyes off it. You knew that whatever he’s been drawing for the past hours you’ve spent together in the atelier must have been nothing but good, yet it overthrew all your expectations; the canvas was huge, which was the first admirable factor you couldn’t possibly overlook, and on it a clearly unfinished though carefully planned out drawing that left you nothing but speechless in its gracefulness – it was only a sketch, yet Hyunjins talent was surely undeniable after only a peek at it. The pencil drawing showed an abstract image of a nude body, unidentifying lines and strokes all around it; you figured those would make more sense the moment Hyunjin would add some color. Parts of the body were left out in the sketch, haven’t been added on yet, and those precisely must be the spots Hyunjin struggled with. Understandably so, the position he chose to draw the woman in a tricky one, surprised he hasn’t been using a reference tonight in the first place, a model, or a picture at least.

“See, the feet right here don’t seem right. I didn’t think it would be too hard, I drew the majority of this with a model anyways, thought finishing this off on my own would be easier than it is.”

So, he did have a model after all, it made sense. Hyunjin cocked his head at his work, showing towards the part he explained to struggle with so you could get a better look at it. He let out another sound of frustration, hands propped up on his thighs as he leaned forward, and back, getting a look at the canvas from different positions. His shoulder blades moved visibly at that, pried up underneath his white shirt, and your eyes have forgotten the painting by now. The muscles in Hyunjin’s arms flexed and relaxed with every other movement he decided to make, and at this point your thoughts went a place elsewhere, too.

“You know, I modelled for references for a bit in my second semester. I could help you-- that way.”

Hyunjin’s head snapped at you, eyes opened in surprise and his ears a bright red; you knew you weren’t off any better. You weren’t quite sure where those words came from, suddenly, unexpectedly, and while you wished that he maybe overheard them; you everything but regretted it. You were embarrassed, shy now that you locked eyes with him, but the anticipation tingled in your fingertips as you expected his answer.

“I mean- if you want. If you’re uh- okay with it; the model is supposed to be- you know- naked.”

In a way, you two were acting bold, increasing the tension in the room to an extent that was soon impossible to let slide. Yet, the shyness and hesitation was nevertheless hard to overhear in Hyunjins words, blush now creeping around his neck and cheeks too – still, he didn’t break the eye contact, held his gaze locked with yours, and you decided to do the same, humming at him in response, giving him your wordless approval. And in that moment neither of you could merely predict what the next minutes would bring, how both of you would handle the ever-rising heat in the atelier, how your relationship would continue after this – would you be smiling at each other in the hallway, or simply look away in an embarrassed manner, shy to even lock eyes with the other in memories to this day?

You both walked over to the small area of sofas and chairs and couches that were scattered in a corner, your movements stiff and fearful almost, yet none of you backed off. Hyunjin brought his canvas alongside, placing it in front of a longish sofa, supposedly the one you’d be laying on, modeling on. The old, rough material of the cushions made you shiver, already thinking about your naked body touching where generations of students have been sitting, eating and drinking on. It shuddered you thinking of it.

And you weren’t sure if Hyunjin perhaps caught a glimpse of your expression, maybe saw how you were eyeing the sofa covered in mysterious dark spots; but the man walked back to where he was seated before, to the back of the classroom, and coming back he had his jacket in his hands, one that was surely too big on you, one that he currently laid onto the sofa carefully before giving you an unsure look.

“Uh, you can lay on that. That thing looks disgusting.”

Hyunjin gave you a chuckle, nervous, but it brightened the tensed atmosphere in the room even if slightly. A sound similar to a chuckle left your lips, and you mustered the creased up jacket he prepared, your stomach turning as you stepped closer to your seat. Hyunjin was doing everything possible to not look at you, it seemed, running around to turn on lights and get his canvas in the right position, or pick up different pencils and erasers that were laying by his desk; all the while he made no eye contact, purposefully avoiding it, and you took it as a sign to get ready yourself; to undress, if you will.

And oh, was it bizarre, the situation as a whole. When you thought about it, you must have gone crazy, the upcoming so strange to your usual behavior, so much bolder than your normally laid back persona. What the hell were you doing, and why? There was no reason to help a colleague, a mere stranger to the extent of undressing before him – though, for a reason you were unable to explain yourself, you felt the pit of your stomach flutter in what must be anticipation, a sign you’ve surely nothing but went crazy.

Your fingertips found the hem of your shirt, and you slid out of it with ease, letting it fall to the ground beneath you. You didn’t dare to even turn around, to peek a glance at Hyunjin, embarrassment coloring your ears already, your face heating up into an impossible the moment your pants and underwear joined the pile of clothing, too, after a while. You were naked, to the bone, and your body felt as though in trance – you were barely able to make your way to the godforsaken sofa, your feet carrying you towards it almost hesitantly, though wanting, needing.

After ages, it felt like, you dared to turn your body, dared to sit down by the corner – bum touching Hyunjins jacket, and you weren’t sure if that’s what he meant when he said you could lay on it. The man in question has not ended his scurrying around, still, his figure making its way through the atelier in what felt like an attempt to spare time, to prolong what both of you couldn’t believe would happen sooner or later.

“Hyunjin-“

Finally, the man stopped in his tracks, finally dared to convert his eyes onto you, your figure; your body. And you'd lie saying it left you cold when you saw his mouth falling agape slightly, when his eyes encountered you, before he sealed his lips again quickly, embarrassed, as if he came back to his senses. You took notice on the way his eyes wandered across your curves for what seemed like a millisecond only, as though not allowing himself to stare, to admire, before he looked back at your face, locking eyes again - and you'd claim to have seen a sort of excitement in them, anticipation maybe - or perhaps it was desire, the thing that's been circulating your mind as well, the very emotion, the very lust that has infiltrated your mind and body long ago, barely allowed you to think straight.

"How- do you want me?"

Hyunjin almost visibly gulped at the question, eyes fluttering in fast blinking as though he awoke off a trance, his body following movements that seemed unnatural, too stiff, too nervous. You didn't intend to make your question sound the way it did, but maybe it wasn't quite you talking, after all, not when Hyunjin looked at you the way he did. He made his way over to the chair, behind his canvas, giving your body a glance that caused you nothing but to shudder. He had an intensity in his presence that you were used to already, hence why all and everyone would swoon over the boy the moment they laid eyes on him. His gaze though, however, was too much, too intimate for you to handle, the depth in his eyes so much more than you could stand out. Your every fibre in you wanted to hide, to lay your hands above your body and cover up, simply to escape the proceeding look of his, a slow inspection he tortured you with. It wasn't to make you feel watched, wasn't to make you insecure - you knew he needed a good look of you to perfect his work, yet it was nothing but mind wrecking, given that he himself was fully dressed.

"Can you lay down? On-- your side, please, and-- cross your legs so your uh-. So you can't see... you know..."

Red color shot onto your face at the sound of Hyunjins stuttering, knowing very well what he must be referring to, his hands motioning to his crotch area vastly, his own ears burning. You took his instructions, hopefully the way he needed it, laying down and crossing your legs, trying to get somewhat comfortable, as much as it was possible. The silk-like underside of the jacket he’s given you was soft against your skin, the reminder that your body laid on it making your palms cover in a film of sweat. And you thought that Hyunjin must have noticed too, how his piece of cloth scrunched up under you, beneath your weight, the way it came in contact with your body, with every bit of it, and it took him longer than usual to get back his composure, it seemed.

A nod from him told you he was happy, roughly, precisely, but not quite yet, not fully. He showed you how to position your hands, your arms, corrected you in the position you laid in, found new imperfections with every closer look he'd take, it seemed.

Not imperfections he made out on you, though – in his eyes, even if you couldn’t possibly see this, you were the perfect model, the most beautiful reference he could wish for. It wasn’t necessarily the fact that you laid naked before him, though your body surely was nothing but distracting, the accent of your chest perking up before the curve to your waist lined the shape of your upper body, rounded hips protruding with the position you laid in. It was hard for him to not lose focus on the flesh of your thighs, how your legs pressed together when you took his instructions, how you obediently stayed in place for him, waiting for his further word. It wasn’t all that, not entirely. It was the look you gave him, as if you wanted this for more than one reason, as if you had another motive up your sleeve other than simply helping him. And your piercing gaze was nothing but screwing with his head, god, his mind would not stop circulating around you.

By the time Hyunjin has started with his work – it has taken both of you long enough to finally figure out the ending pose, with how worked up you felt, how stuffed the air suddenly got, how hot you were – and it was nothing but sensual. The way Hyunjin looked at you, so concentrated to capture your every curve and movement on his canvas, trying to get your body as realistic as possible, as possibly beautiful as you were in his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to feel this way, sensual and intimate as it was; it was a simple task, between art graduates that knew each other merely and lent a hand to the other, nothing more or less. But the tension in the atelier could have been cut through with a knife, if possible, with the way Hyunjin didn’t once dare to forget to lock eyes with you after inspecting your body, and before going back to his sketch. His eyes would find yours always, even if for a second, so quickly you’d miss it if your own gaze wasn’t locked on him too. And you couldn’t find a reasonable explanation for this, didn’t understand how looking for eye contact, and finding it for a fleeing moment, would help him get this done any better, faster. Only if his reasonings were the same as yours, after all, if the turmoil in his own mind and body was as nerve wrecking as yours – lust and needing growing rapidly, with every pencil stroke the man made.

“Just like that, you’re uh- you’re doing really well.”

Hyunjin gave you a smile, sweet and somehow inviting, comforting. Yet his words sent chaos through your brain, your face surely painting a darker color as you blushed, unable to contain the shy smile that crept up your lips. God, he was attractive as he sat there, hands carefully moving his pencil across the whitened canvas, erasing mistakes here and there after inspecting your body intensely once more.

“But…”

Hyunjin hesitated suddenly, his brows furrowed at you, eyes going back between your body and the progress he’s made. Something was off, maybe your position wasn’t quite right anymore, given you’ve laid stiffly for several minutes by now. He got up from his seat, walking over to you. Coming closer, with every slow step he took, your eyes following up the lines of his figure until you were met with his face, the moment he scrunched down to be levelled up with you. Your breath hitched in your throat, the man so close to you suddenly you could nearly feel the heat his body radiated, against the sensitivity of your naked skin.

“Uh- can I just-…”

It seemed like he asked for approval, to touch you, maybe, to correct the perspective. You gave him a nod, a silent agreement, his hands proceeding to wander to the mess of your hair, before you felt his fingers on your scalp. He most likely needed to fix the way it laid, the way it fell above your shoulder, as it could affect parts of his sketching progress; but you felt no ounce of professionalism this very moment, the very bit that was left when the two of you have started surely dissipating into nothingness at this point, slowly but surely. And you nothing but hoped that he felt the same, that maybe Hyunjin would look down at you, would lock eyes with you and maybe screw the project altogether, would allow himself to shortly let his focus go elsewhere – on you.

His hands were fiddling with your strands still, his dark orbs – shimmering slightly in the artificial light of the room – wandered south, to meet your eyes. There was a pause, filled with anticipation, with excitement about the unknowing, with the need to figure out what the other was thinking, if thoughts were shared. Both of you felt the same desire, the same urge to dive in, to lean into each other, yet both of you were too cowardly to act on it this instant. Only shared eye contact, trying to get behind the others mind, to see past whatever you wanted to call this.

Hyunjins eyes fluttered down to the outline of your lips, yours did the same. It was short, the staring contest proceeding as quickly as it got interrupted. Until Hyunjins mouth opened, as though to say something, catching the corner of your eye.

“Is that- alright…?”

Unsure to what exactly he was referring to, you simply nodded. He could mean anything, everything, and you’d be up for it. Now that his scent was infiltrating your mind with the way he hovered over you in an unstable manner, how the neverending touch of his consumed your mind and body – the want for him was stronger than before, stronger than when you first noticed him, than when you first started with this bizarreness of a situation. So whatever it was he meant, you were nothing but alright with it, wanted it.

And luckily for you, Hyunjin was far braver than you, took the initiate the both of you saw anyways. His lips found yours, in a quick moment, hastily, yet the feeling of relief shot through your body, as if the immense tension got finally cut through, as if the air in the atelier got clearer, momentarily. It was a slow kiss, a soft one, as everything Hyunjin seemed to do. The feeling of his puffed up lips felt cloudy against you, and you sighed out in content, in awaiting. You felt Hyunjins hands disconnecting from your hair, finally, finding touch with your body, hesitantly so. It was noticeable in his movements, he was clam and careful, approaching your figure mindfully. While your lips were moving against each other, in a way of getting to know, in a way of exploring, Hyunjins fingertips made sure to stay in place the further he made his way across your curves, as though waiting for a sign of disapproval – only if none was found he kept his travel going.

Your own hands soon had the urge to find contact with the man, too, his shoulders suddenly so inviting, his arms so steady around your figure and against the sofa that you let your fingers dance across them. You felt every dip of muscle on them, felt the bones in his shoulders when you reached them, felt how his back flexed and relaxed in different ways when you let your palms slide up and down. And Hyunjin sighed out at that, his breath hitching when your cold hands came to halt at his skin, by the hem of his shirt. You didn’t allow yourself to make moves he might cut off, so you’ve waited impatiently until he straightened up and tossed the tee over his head himself, the pile of clothes by the sofa adding up.

He was breathtaking like this. Built, but not too much, proportions as though planned out by a higher being. You wanted to sculpt him, wanted to use his body to create art.

Your lips managed to disconnect from his, task harder than it seemed, the kiss you’ve shared until now way rougher, more passionate. You let your mouth travel up and down his neck, giving kitten licks to Hyunjin’s jaw, before finding a spot to bite down at, only slightly, only enough to draw color. He whined at that, and you thought you’d never hear anything prettier, anything more addicting than this.

His hands found their way to your thighs, groping at the flesh, tickling the inner, more sensitive part of them. And it took him only a hum of you, one that sounded like approval, and his fingers were fluttering above your core, finding touch with it slowly, carefully. One finger up and down your slit before the next followed, and by now you couldn’t bear to continue the attack you’ve had on Hyunjins neck, your head now falling back into the harsh cushions, mouth agape lightly. Instead, it seemed like it was his turn now, his kiss bruised mouth finding the bit behind your ear, nibbling and grazing the skin so feathery you barely contained the sounds that sinfully wanted to make their way past your lips. Hyunjins fingertips danced against your clit now, not daring to apply excessive pressure, but teasing you enough to, after all, get to hear the whines and sighs you oh so wanted to quite out.

“Fuck, what are we doing.”

You thought the same thing Hyunjin spoke out, the situation yet not fully settled. Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it were your sleep deprived bodies, your overworked brains. Maybe it was all that, and the desire for each other – after all, it all well could have been nothing at all, and you’d still not complain. You loved this, everything about this, whatever it was, whatever you’d call it.

As an answer to Hyunjins question your hand wandered south, needy fingers teasing at his bulge, feeling painfully hard by now. Another whine passed his lips, his full brows scrunching together, his pleasure distorted face nothing but a sight to see. And thankfully he understood your hint, could read what your movements told him; he got rid of his pants in an instant, impatiently getting them off his body, and finally you were both left uncovered, bare and vulnerable for the other.

You’ve felt Hyunjin stretch you out slowly, and it was hesitant, the way your lips parted during, as if the only thing they’d ever need to do is stay connected. You’ve felt him fill you up, to the hilt, feeling every vein and nib against your walls, and he seemed to touch spots oh so deep within you.

The both of you sounded desperate, sounds of grunts and quiet moans filling the echoes of the atelier, while Hyunjin started to roll his hips against you. It was as if any and everything he did was meant to be agonizingly sensual, and soft, and loving. In the way he moved, in the way he created art, in the way he fucked. It felt so right to you, so infiltrating, you couldn’t get enough.

Hyunjins movements fastened, turned sloppier momentarily while the two of you never stopped sharing kisses, exchanging moans and breath, taking in each other fully. You weren’t in love, not knowingly, but this was all how it seemed. Your breathing started to hitch in your throat more frequently, and Hyunjins grunts seemed to grow louder, filling the room in beautiful sin while you chased after the high, together. Your hands not one left Hyunjins body, always touching, unable to disconnect from the feeling of his skin against you. And he was similar; his hands, much bigger than yours, having a grip on the inside of your thigh, while the other explored elsewhere, your chest, or neck, or waist and hips. It was as if none of you wanted this to end, as if both of you wanted to hold the other to not let the moment pass, to not go back to what might turn into embarrassment.

You arched your back into the man, urging to cry out in pleasure, yet containing yourself to only let whines slip past your tongue. It was overwhelming, in every way possible, when you felt Hyunjin paint your insides in nothing but white, when the weight of his body met yours, when his hot breath hit your neck. None of you where this would end, where this would go after all this, but for that moment, for the time being, neither of you wasted a thought on it while you laid in each others arms, while you melted into each other and breathed the other in, while you shared one body, like two lovers, almost, perhaps.

tagging: @lotus-dly @hyunjinoir @aeminju @n-bokhari @che3tobre4th @etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @diue @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @meloohmel @nyrasneedy @seochhj @spidercomics @chans-starlight @angelwonie

The AMOUNT of passion given through this fic is just 😳🤚🤌🤌🤌✨ literally gonna go feral for a part two

A fall from grace (Yandere! Sub! Childe)

Characters: Yandere! Sub! Childe x Dom! Gn! Reader

Themes for the whole story: yandere, obsessive behavior, s/m themes, self-choking, masturbation, mentions of death and suicide (brief mention, not part of plot), Childe being gross towards the end

This is pretty much a slow-burn so strap in, gets interesting towards the end :’)

It was a peculiar feeling. Tartaglia can’t quite recall the last time he had felt this intensely about another human being. Or anything else for that matter.

One can imagine how truly strange it was to him once he had found somebody who had genuinely piqued his interests. At the start, he wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was about you that got him wrapped around your little finger.

Keep reading

YOU👏HAVE👏EVERY👏MFING👏RIGHT👏TO👏BE👏PROUD😩😤😩😤🤌🤌✨✨🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

Helping A Friend Out

cw: sub!thoma, dom!reader, gn!reader, crying, handjob, penetration, cheating (implied ayato and thoma relationship)

a/n: this is probably one of the best i’ve ever written ngl

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Thoma could feel your stare digging through his back as he talked with the Traveler and Paimon. The thought made him nervous, although he tried to regain his composure while he continued his conversation.

“Thoma, are you alright?” Paimon asked him, seeing him a bit shaken up.

“Oh, me? Of course! I’m doing just fine! What was it you wanted to ask again?” He pardoned, this time actually listening to whatever the two in front of him were saying.

Despite giving an ear, he couldn’t ignore your eyes. And when he looked over, he shivered when he saw you lick your lips as if you were undressing him with your eyes. Thoma couldn’t help but to imagine himself being rimmed by your tongue, causing him to feel a slight disturbance from under.

“Thoma! You’re not listening to Paimon at all! Hmph!”

“Excuse my friend over here, it seems he’s a bit sick. Probably overworked himself at the Kamisato’s” Your voice lingered in his ear, before he knew it, you were placing your head on his shoulder.

Moreover, what were you insinuating with your words?

Paimon gasped as the Traveler remains unbothered. “A friend of Thoma’s? He’s reaaaally nice, you know? He always gets Paimon and the Traveller discounts when he treats us to food!”

“Is that so? I guess Thoma gets paid a lot by the Kamisato’s, huh? I wonder why…” You make eye contact with Thoma, who’s feeling a bit under the weather.

“Well, duh? Thoma’s the nicest!” Paimon exclaimed, making you laugh at her words. She’s not wrong at that.

“Sorry to cut off the conversation, but I must escort him home. A sick person should stay inside, after all.”

Traveler stepped in forward as if saying that they’d be willing to help. You only left them a smile before leaving, a suspicious look being given to you by the savior of Inazuma.

The walk to your abode was silent. However, Thoma could hear his heart pounding of what’s to come when he enters. Opening the door, you urged him to go inside.

“I see that you’re the talk of the city.”

“N-No, they were just exaggerating!” He defended himself, even knowing that you probably wouldn’t believe it.

“Well, I suppose that one’s money mustn’t go to waste. After all, Ayato surely must pay a lot for a night with you.” You had him fumbled, how did you know that he had a relationship with him?

“I-It’s nothing like that.”

“No need to lie to me, Thoma. So, how much is it?”

“It’s really nothing like what you’re thinking of…” He answered once more, Thoma didn’t seem to be lying to you from your observations. You finally concluded on what he was referring to.

“So lovers then. That would make sense. Still, of course Ayato would gift such extravagant riches, wouldn’t he?”

Ayato knew that this was wrong. He shouldn’t be responding to your flirtatious manner, just because his lover was currently busy doesn’t mean that he should be participating in such affairs. But who was he to say these things when he was having such lustful thoughts of you just from earlier.

“Aah!” Your hands feeling up his crotch accidentally made him moan, head rolling back to your chest.

“It must be hard having such a busy partner, right Thoma? He’s got you all pent up like this…”

“N-No! Hmm! Aah—hah! S-Stop it, (Name)…” You now travelled to his cock already erect and leaking precum just from your slight touches. He’s touch starved, poor thing.

Thoma is quivering from your strokes, it just felt so wrong but so, so good! What were you doing this to him? “Aren’t you so unfaithful? About to cum from a friend’s hand…”

“I-I’m not!! Hn!” He stuttered out, his cock being unable to take no more of your fondling.

“Hm? Why were you already hard while talking to the traveler then? Surely, you must not think I’m a fool to not realizing that you were fantasizing about me?”

Thoma cried out holding his best not to cum from someone else than Ayato. “I-I wasn’t thinking o-of you!”

“Yes, yes. Keep lying to me, darling.”

Thoma screamed uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face as he orgasmed not to his partner, but you. Before he was able to sort out his thoughts, he fell unconscious much to your demise.

That was the first and last time that Thoma would ever swore to go near you. Unfortunately things did not go to plan as he rests on his bed alone, no one next to him to give him warmth and instead of calling Ayato, he thinks of you.

Unbeknownst to him, his feet reached your door and you gladly opened up your place to him whenever he wants.

That was when his actions became a repetition and a routine. He couldn’t even count the nights he had spent in your place.

“(Name)! Agh! M-More!” Thoma wept for you as you continued hitting his prostate, pounding against him until he drools on the bed sheets like a dog.

His walls were yours now, you’ve done it so many times it actually felt like you were a part of him and it just felt wrong for you not to be inside him.

“Mm! Aah! S-So good!”

You spank him hard, making him choke on his own moans. He unconsciously drizzled some of him cum, dripping down to his thighs as you push him to the point that he faces the wall.

“(Name), P-Please! Let m-me!” He begged you, knowing that you’d get mad at him for finishing without your permission.

“Say it then, Thoma. Say what you truly are.”

“Aah! T-Thank you! I’m a little cumslut! I’m y-your cumslut! Only yours!”

“Good boy.”

Thoma finally orgasmed, every part of his body aching as you let him fall onto the floor on his own. Streaks of his fluids showered the wall, tainting it with all of his juices. Sadly, despite how many times you two had sex, he knew it would never blossomed into something more even if he knew he was starting to fall for you.

He returned to his place alone, thighs shaking from too much pleasure that you had given him only to be surprised that Ayato was right there waiting for him.

“Where were you, love?” He was worried for his lover, tired and breathless. Did someone ask him to deliver something this late at night?

Ah, he was so kind to him.

“I was helping a friend out.”

deadass need this cause I cant write dialogue to save my life

Apparently a lot of people get dialogue punctuation wrong despite having an otherwise solid grasp of grammar, possibly because they’re used to writing essays rather than prose. I don’t wanna be the asshole who complains about writing errors and then doesn’t offer to help, so here are the basics summarized as simply as I could manage on my phone (“dialogue tag” just refers to phrases like “he said,” “she whispered,” “they asked”):

“For most dialogue, use a comma after the sentence and don’t capitalize the next word after the quotation mark,” she said.

“But what if you’re using a question mark rather than a period?” they asked.

“When using a dialogue tag, you never capitalize the word after the quotation mark unless it’s a proper noun!” she snapped.

“When breaking up a single sentence with a dialogue tag,” she said, “use commas.”

“This is a single sentence,” she said. “Now, this is a second stand-alone sentence, so there’s no comma after ‘she said.’”

“There’s no dialogue tag after this sentence, so end it with a period rather than a comma.” She frowned, suddenly concerned that the entire post was as unasked for as it was sanctimonious.

this is just ugh 😩❤️✨🤌🤌🤌

— 「 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐒 | 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐘 𝐌𝐄 」

feat : lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeous, beelzebub + belphegor.

warnings : f. reader, breeding, cockwarming, kind of possessive but not toxic, accidental confessions, sex with feelings, fwb to lovers, pussy job in levi’s.

note : this is like my favourite trope of all time so they got a little longer than i’d normally do i’m sorry :,)

୪ LUCIFER

— the idea was something he’d never really thought about, he was a busy person, but the feelings he’d developed since the beginning of your arrangement were new to him, especially to be feeling them towards a human. he just grew to enjoy your company, not realising that his attachment was growing with it as he gradually became a little more lovesick.

“h-how do you feel so good, every time?” lucifer breathes, a trembling undercurrent to his voice when he draws his hips back, his hands massaging your waist almost soothingly as he feels your tight walls stretch around him. it’s just as slow when he sinks back into you, rolling his hips forward into yours and you watch his lips part, a breathy whine falling from them as he blinks down at you. “f-fuck.” the eldest brother hisses, feeling your pussy flex around his sensitive cock once more and you mumble something affirming back—something that has a gruff curse falling from the dark-haired demon’s lips when he begins a steady pace. your hands grab his shoulders to keep yourself steady, but you pull him closer in the process, watching him lean down to hover just over you—his hair messy and unkempt as it hangs over his face, framing the blush on his cheeks perfectly. you whimper at how good he fills you, your eyes closing in bliss and for a moment you feel his hips stutter when he sucks in a breath, you look pretty, lucifer thinks to himself. his hips jolt forward, watching the way your face contorts in pleasure, needy moans of his name falling from your lips and his head dips towards you, placing a gentle kiss against your cheek and his cock twitches when you look up at him again. “f-feels good, lucifer.” and he rocks his body into yours again, because his name has never sounded better.

୪ MAMMON

— mammon felt a lot, he thought he could do it, just agreed because he wanted to be closer to you and being able to have any sort of relationship with you was good enough for him. it was just sex, but when your pussy felt like it was made just for him he couldn’t help the feelings that came along with it, the ones he thought he could ignore—the ones that followed the late nights and the impromptu visits that became more frequent when he started missing you, he needed you, and he was terrible at hiding it.

“goddamn, t-that’s it, baby—look at me, ya feel s-so good.” mammon groans from above you, holding his bottom lip between his teeth as he sinks his cock into your doughy cunt with another heavy thrust. his hands are grabbing tightly at your hips, keeping you in position as he begins an almost brutal pace, his brows creasing from the overwhelming pleasure. your body feels like it was made for him and the chemistry between you both itself was undeniable, his brothers constantly commenting on the tension between you both as they joked about how smitten with you the second eldest was as he stumbled over excuses. “i wanna be the only one who gets to see ya l-like this, so pretty. i’ll make ya f-feel better than anyone else ever could—shit” mammon grunts, pulling back only to pull you in for a feverish kiss, eagerly, without care while lewd whispers of how tight and perfect you are leave his lips as your cunt continues to squeeze him, feeling him grin against your lips before he wraps you in his strong hold. the silver haired demon exhales shakily, “you make me feel so g-good, mammon.” you sigh and your praise cuts him deep as his pace quickens, feeling you grip the back of his neck to help him hitch your hips impossibly closer to his and he trembles over you. he’s so lost in you—his mind feels foggy, focusing on the needy push and pull of your body and he murmurs your name, grits his teeth, can barely keep his eyes open but he cant look away, not from you when he feels his orgasm suddenly wash over his body just as your walls twitch around him. “f-fuck, baby—shit, i-i love ya, ya know that right? hnghhh—how d’ya expect me t-to resist ya.” a confession slipping from mammon’s lips in a sudden moment of tenderness has his eyes widening in horror as he fucks his load into your cunt, but when he feels you grab him tighter in response—he knows you’ll be okay.

୪ LEVIATHAN

— you’d caught him off guard with the question, ofcourse he’d catch feelings for you, they were there already. he just wanted to be closer to you, and now he felt like he was the main protagonist in some romance manga and now he understood why they couldn’t just confess to their crush, because what if it meant he never got to hear how much better his name sounds from your lips again.

“are you okay, levi?” you whisper and keen, peering at him from where your forehead is against his while levi’s thighs quiver below you at the languid back and forth sway of your hips in his lap. “hnghh—huh, i-it’s nothing! it’s nothing, d-don’t stop, please—“ you’re intoxicating, the feeling of your body against his, your pussy feels like silk as you roll your puffy folds along his cock, his swollen cockhead catching under the hood of your clit as you both twitch and sigh. he looks at you, flushed from his cheeks to his chest, and his mind is so full with conflicting emotions—all while he’s mindlessly helping you rock back and forth along the length of him, feeling you press slow, soft kisses along his cheeks and his lips part to allow another whimper to slip through with a lewd swirl of your hips. “p-please, don’t stop—“ levi grunts, gripping your hips tightly as you continue to grind yourself against him and he feels like he can barely think, he loves how it feels to push against you, he could spend every day like this, watching you thrust and glide your pussy across the length of his cock—he’s in heaven, so much so, he doesn’t realise his hand has moved to intertwine with yours until you give his a reassuring squeeze when he swallows—a little awkwardly at first, the blush across his cheeks darkening before he gathers you even closer, grunting with each greedy swirl of your clit across the intense, sensitive nerves of his cock. “i—i really l-like you—uh, w-when you do that! yeah, when you do that.”

୪ SATAN

— you’d just never really addressed what you both were—you visited his room, fucked him and normally left but it all changed when you fell asleep in his lap one day as his hands traced featherlight touches down your figure, and when he realised he’d been smiling to himself as you slept—he knew he was in trouble.

“s-satan!” you mumble, arching your back to press your chest closer to his, your cunt flexing around his pretty cock when you feel him push deeper, pulling a pleasured hiss from the man beneath you as his jaw clenches, watching him sink back into his chair—the book he was reading long forgotten in favour of his fingers sinking into your hips instead. “it feel good? nghhh—you truly are something else.” satan grunts, his voice low and smooth and the tone has your back curling, something intimate in the way his hips are rolling against yours—your body so ready for the pleasure that you know only he can give you. “feels s-so good.” you babble back and your mind is too cloudy to notice the almost proud smile on the blonde brothers face before he groans, his hands smoothing along the shape of your hips—appreciating every part of you. “let me l-look at you.” he hums, thrusting into you again, his pace a little rougher this time as the sound of skin slapping picks up and he pulls you against his chest more, his fingers curling along your jaw before he curses roughly, fucking into you with practiced thrusts that have you keening. you’re vaguely aware of what’s going on, satan’s cock is smoothing along all of your sweet spots but you don’t expect to feel his lips press against yours softly, a contrast to how ruthlessly he’s fucking into you—this is gentle, feeling his fingers smooth along the side of your cheek before he pulls away just as quickly, mumbling a few praises under his breath and he looks at you, a rush of warmth in his veins due to the fluttering pull of your pussy and the ghost of a grin on his lips “s-so beautiful.”

୪ ASMODEOUS

— the fact he couldn’t do it surprised even him, he was the avatar of lust after all but there was just something about you. something that had him craving you beneath him, to shower you in the praises that fell from his lips and rolled down the curves of your body until he was the only thing on your mind, he craved you.

“oh—you’re so cute. does that feel good?” asmo hums, he really likes the way you look below him, watching you whimper and keen as he feels the saccharine rub of his skin against yours, he feels delirious at your touch—lost in an intense haze of messy kisses and moans as he fucks into you, his hands wandering and squeezing before his palm rests against your cheek. every grind on his hips against yours is teasing, drawing his hips back before he’s rolling them back into yours just as slowly, the head of his pretty cock pushing on something just a little too deep inside of you that’s warm and pleasantly achy and you twitch around him, pulling a dreamy whine from the man above you as he taps his fingers on your cheek, urging you to meet his narrowed, lustful gaze as his lips curl into a smile. “look at you, so needy, you’re even more adorable like this—you feel so good.” asmo always knew your body so well, he was so hypnotised by you, like every move you made below him was enchanting as his free hand trails it’s way between you both, slowly rolling your clit under the pad of his fingers and you cast him a starry eyed glance before he kisses you, and it feels like he’s been shot with a cupids arrow when he emphasises it with another slow roll of his hips, his voice becoming more breathless as he admires you, drunk on sizzling pleasure as your pussy flexes around him again. “i’ll take care of you, just keep your eyes on me, okay? i’m all yours after all.”

୪ BEELZEBUB

— he didn’t really understand the whole agreement. he was just excited he was finally going to be able to fuck you, it felt good and he got to stay to eat with you after so he was happy. you’d became important to him, so he just assumed that you both were dating—always ending up a little confused when you denied any questions from his brother, because isn’t this what couples do? 

“fuck—feels s-so good. you look delicious.” beel grunts from his place facing you, pinning you to the wall with his chest as he fucks into your cunt—your mind foggy from how tightly you’re stretched around his fat cock and his eyes focus on the way you suck him back in, your walls rewarding the delicious stretch by twitching around the blunt head. he groans, the vibrations of his tone rumbling in his chest and you feel tears in your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure, meeting beel’s gaze only to catch him already looking at you with parted lips and pink cheeks. “you’re so cute, hmph—feel like another p-part of me is full when you’re here.“ he exhales shakily, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours while his fingernails dig into your hips to pull you closer, and he grits his teeth as he dumbly pistons his cock into your cunt, his hips driving into yours ruthlessly. he’s fucked out, his violet gaze is hazy and his red hair is wet with sweat as it hangs messy over his forehead, but it frames his face in a way that has you arching against him. beel’s heavy body is so close, pushing you even harder against the wall, fucking every coherent thought out of your mind that isn’t him or his cock and you feel his fat head kiss every part of your insides when his pace grows messy, his hips bucking almost wildly into you and he growls, audible moans of your name falling from his lips mixed with needy grumbles. “g-gonna cum, does it feel good? fuck, nggghh—will you s-stay after this time? don’t wanna s-stop—need more.”

୪ BELPHEGOR

— it wasn’t something you had expected to happen honestly, it just kind of happened naturally in the time you both spent together, napping turning into more than that whenever he came over. only realising when he had to feel his heart race every time he heard a familiar knock on his bedroom door, hoping you don’t see the ghost of a smile on his lips when he reaches to open it knowing you’re on the other side.

you tremble from your place underneath belphe, your body still coming down from your orgasm as the youngest of the brothers groans against your neck, a string of barely audible curses falling from his lips as his cock thickens and throbs inside of you. you shudder when you feel him sink his cock back into your twitching walls, his hips grinding against yours as lewd squelching noises fill the room, a mixture of both your orgasms dripping from the place between you both, soaking the sheets beneath you. “ughhh—feels g-good, so tight.” belphe breathes, a trembling undercurrent to his voice and your mind is too hazy to acknowledge the soft kiss he places on your skin as he finally comes down from his high, plopping his weight on you before rolling onto his side, his cock beginning to soften inside of you. you try to catch your breath, shuffling to blink up at the male but your eyes widen when his arms move quickly to pull you against his chest instead—it feels more intimate this time, and maybe it’s the post orgasm haze that has you nuzzling into him. “belphe? you awake?” you ask, your voice a quiet whisper followed by a huff when you’re met with only silence in response and belphe’s soft breathing, assuming he must’ve fell asleep. but he’s awake—with a softer sort of smile on his lips while the exhaustion in your body has you falling asleep against him quickly, not realising this was belphe’s plan b when he got too nervous to ask you to stay.

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

material gworl? slay

Cause like I have a request of my own... what if the sister found out that Satoru slept with the sister? I love this 🤧🤧🤧🤧 sips tea ☕

tree tops (beach days part 2)

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

⟶ cw. camgirl! reader, age-gap, infidelity, cheating (gojo cheating on your sister with you), gojo is a warning, public sex, fingering, choking, mentions of virginity, manipulation, oral, deep-throat, cum play, cum eating, 18+ MINORS DO NOT READ

sypnosis: request, gojo approaches you about a video you posted online and then he couldn't keep his hands off you even though he belongs to your sister, and all this whilst you're all on a family vacation.

part sypnosis: after the eventful day you ignored his texts for a couple of days until you're forced to hang out with your sister and him, satoru can't stop playing with you even when his girlfriend is two feet away from you

⟶ wc. 5.5k (WTF IS WRONG WITH ME)

a/n: i got too invested, this is so fun to write i hope it's fun to read! please lmk what you think!!! reblogs and comments are EXTREMELY APPRECIATED, lets me know if you like it and want more or not! btw i hope the open ended endings arent annoying, i like leaving it like that : P could make another part who knows.

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST!! i love the username :)))

part 1 // part 2

The plush hotel pillows felt lush on your cheeks, pressing your face against the fabric more the break of a sunrise peeks through the sheer curtains in your room. You groan turning away from the bright light wanting to just sleep longer since you barely had any sleep for the last few days.

Gojo Satoru did not leave you alone, not with your Snapchat at his fingers. He had sent multiple photos of himself, his privates, and just plain texting you─no he was spamming you, only because you never gave him the attention he wanted. You knew he was annoyed, ever since that day somehow your parents and sister have been arguing so for the past few days she’d been sitting with Satoru at a different table during meals.

“Dear, would you ask your sister what’s wrong? She’s been ignoring us for days,” Your mother asks, reading the news or her phone or something, “This is a family holiday after all.”

You groan, dropping your book in your lap, “Mom, why don’t you? You guys are the ones that made her mad, I wasn’t even here! I only heard something about you not liking Satoru and well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before inviting him to a ‘family’ holiday!”

You were so over it, seemed like he’s everyone's problem these days. Your mother sighs, speaking to your father instead.

In the corner of your eyes, you see Satoru’s eyes stealing glances at you, his fingers tapping on the back of his phone noticeably, signaling. You roll your eyes, picking up your phone and looking at his text.

3.25 am

satoru: reply to me

satoru: are you sleeping??

satoru: sneak out and see me

satoru: helloooo im bored

9.45 am

satoru: do your parents still hate me?

satoru: i know you saw my text

satoru: i literally see you looking at my text

satoru: answer!!!

You sigh, dropping your phone in the pocket of your shorts. He had such a creative username, you rolled your eyes at it. “Do you guys have something planned?”

Your father nods, “We’ve got a spa day, you could join us? Or I think your sister’s off on some sort of tree course thing─”

“Ah yes, I think you’d enjoy that,” Your mom adds, “Treetop challenge and ziplines I think, that’s what was on the ad.”

You didn’t really want to be in his presence but it was either that or joining your parents in spa─which meant they’d be kinda naked around you and vice versa. You smile, totally okay with the choices you were forced to choose from. Last night your mother had also mentioned how you weren’t making the most of this vacation, just sitting around as you could back home. You didn’t want to argue with her right after her fight with your sister so you just had to pretend you’d try, and now you had to execute the lie.

“Okay, I’ll go with them.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Let’s go pretty girl.” Satoru slaps the back of your helmet and almost yeets you off the side of the platform.

You gasp, grabbing your head whilst your legs shake, “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

He smiles, picture-perfect and all. He seemed too overjoyed that you joined them when he should be smiling with your sister but wait─where is she? You look around only noticing her a few courses back.

“Hurry up!” You shout, waving at her.

Your sister had her new dress on, big mistake, struggling with literally everything, especially the little pieces of wood she had to walk on to make her way closer to catch up to you two. “I’m trying! Why did you make me do this, ‘Toru!”

You chuckle, seeing her struggle was lowkey satisfying. Satoru shrugs at her, “Babe, you told me to pick whatever I want. Come on, or else we’ll leave you behind.” He looks back at you, his eyes glimmering with something different. You had a disgusted look on your face.

You always seemed to have that disgusted look on your face when he’s around he’s noticed. He couldn’t tell if you actually thought he stunk or just disliked him, but hell, he knew you didn’t dislike him to not fuck him. What he did like were the same shorts you wore, maybe you only brought one pair, he could see the straps of your bikini top through your tank top. He bites his lips thinking of all the things he could do to you right now if your sister wasn’t so nearby, but she wasn’t near enough for him to not grab your ass.

“The fuck!” You shriek, slapping his hand away, “She’s literally right there you freak.”

Gojo smirks, not letting you go, he slips his warm and sweaty fingers prod under the hem of them feeling those bare cheeks of yours that peaked out of your shorts, “Is that the only thing you find wrong about this, that she’s right there? Not because I’m trying to finger your ass right now?”

“Shut up,” You huff, moving away from him trying to ignore the weird feelings below your hips. You attach your safety hook on the next zipline, “Just wait for her, okay? Fuckface.”

“You cuss way too much for your age.” You hear him say while you zip away, you turned around in the seated position shooting him a middle finger as his arrogant smile begins to fade from the distance.

When you got off, your phone buzzed. You checked, in case it was your parents to see your sister messaging you.

(sister’s name): i hate satoru

(sister’s name): what is this stupid ass place he brought us

(sister’s name): ive got moss all over my legs!

You: just wipe it off

(sister’s name): it stinks here

You: stop breathing then

Before you put your phone away another text immediately pops up on your screen and your finger accidentally open it, Snapchat.

satoru: the more you run the more i wanna stick my dick in your ass

satoru: did i make you wet?

You grunt.

You: your existence makes my pussy dry asf

satoru: wow

satoru: rude asf

satoru: btw your sister keeps complaining

satoru: can i push her off the next ledge i see

You laugh, he’d be doing you both a favour.

You: fucking do it, i dare you

satoru: i’ll fucking do you in a second

You: someones a pussy.

satoru: i aint going to jail

satoru: you know what they’d do to a guy like me in jail

You: you’d drop that soap so fast

You: you seem like the type to become someones bitch for a packet of ramen

satoru: wow

satoru: im literally gonna fold you when i see you

satoru: little bitch

Instead of allowing yourself to get distracted by him anymore, you get on with the course, completely ignoring anyone anything around you. Luckily you had your extra pair of earphones and pop them in before shutting out the world.

Satoru groans, his eyes fluttering with despair. He clicks his tongue watching your body swoop a few courses ahead, without a burden like your sister holding him back he’d be able to catch up in no time but hell, he can’t just ditch his girlfriend right now. Definitely not when she was holding his hand and making him guide her through every little thing.

During the wobbly bridge, he purposely jumps behind her making it shake and buckle under their weight. He laughs as your sister cries out, jumping back into his arms, “Babe! Stop it, I’m scared.”

If he could roll his eyes without her seeing he would. It wasn’t like he disliked his own girlfriend, he did after all choose to date her from all the candidates on that dating app. Yet, his mind couldn’t stop flashing images of you into his brain. He imagined if it were you that showed up on his tinder would he have chosen you? But then again, his age range is nowhere near that low so he’d never actually come across your profile, wait did you even have a dating profile? He wonders what you’d put in your descriptions, what pictures you’d use, it made him annoyed thinking of all the rats that would flood your DMS.

“Go on first, Satoru,” Your sister offers, “I needa’ fix my sandals.”

He nods, telling her he’d wait for her after the long zipline. He was still confused why she decided to wear sandals and a dress even though he’d told her last night about the treetop course. He notices you on the zipline ahead of him, clearly enjoying yourself without anyone with you. Somehow he found it strange someone could enjoy being alone, but then again you were one of those book nerds who can go days without talking to anyone.

Satoru gets to the end of his zipline and looks back, squinting in hopes to see his girlfriend. Nothing. He sighs, leaning against the barrier, they were so high up in the trees at this point and probably near the end as well. He didn’t want it to end, because then you have no reason to hang out with him anymore.

He thought about it, wait for his girlfriend or chase after you. Well, clearly he chose the latter because here he was right behind you.

“Ah!” You shriek, fixing the straps that kept pinching the side of your buttcheeks, “Where’s my sister?”

“Uh,” Satoru smiles, shrugging, “No clue.”

Eh?

You sigh, still trying to fix your problem and make yourself more comfortable.

Satoru notices and asks, “What’s with you?”

“This straps digging into me.”

He nods, pushing away your hand. You eye him but his eyes were focused on the sides of your bottom. He notices the rolled-up and twisted strap, “Don’t flinch.”

His large hands grab your ass and turn you, facing you away from him. Somehow you find your cheeks getting warm, after all, your ass was facing him now. He gets down, his hands were wet from the course since it was a tropical treetop adventure. It felt cold, you had to resist flinching from it.

His hands are huge, you remembered them, they were also really soft and pretty.

You gulped feeling his fingers slip underneath the strap, wedged between your jean shorts and it. He wiggles and manages to untangle it with ease moving on to the other side. “Did you really ride that entire thing with a buckle between your cheeks?”

You shift, clicking your tongue, “No, it just moved when I was doing the plank jumping.”

His face felt really close to your body, you could feel his breath against the back of your thigh. You look back behind you, eyes widening when you realise he’s been looking at you waiting for you to turn around.

“What?” You huff.

He smiles, it wasn’t fair that he’s hot. “Nothing.” His pearly whites on display, you knew why your sister talked so much good about him with her girlfriends whenever they’d come over to stay.

“Just hurry, I wanna get going.”

Satoru shakes his head, “Come on, let’s take our time and enjoy ourselves.” Somehow that felt like it had more than one meaning but you move on.

His fingers prodding at your exposed buttcheeks against making you jump, “Hey!”

“Sorry, it’s just stuck in there, can you spread your legs or something?”

He’d love that, huh?

You did as he asked. Satoru was enjoying it, maybe a little too much. He liked the way your body melts under his touch even if you were trying to resist him. He pulls at the buckle and gets it away from your asscheeks. He bits his lip when his eyes catch the way your jeans are tucked and folded in between your ass, god, it was plump and right in his reach.

He proceeds to get back up, purposely running his hands up your body, resting against your left buttcheek. His fingers curled, molding into the crease of your ass. You gulped, feeling him squeeze.

What surprised you the most was his breathing, it somehow changed, erratic. He presses his large frame against you, pushing you forwards slightly. It felt like his hands were burning through your clothes, he breathes a quiet moan into your ear, “Fuck. You really think I haven’t noticed the way you keep pulling your shorts up?”

You gasp when his fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, threatening to slip into your bikini bottom, “I wasn’t doing it for you.”

“Yea?” Satoru hisses, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “You were doing it for that boy that was following you? You want his number or something, I fucking swear to god if you get anyone's number I’m going to push them off this fucking tree.”

He practically just marked his territory, to you and only you but you were too stubborn to just let him do that so easily.

Somehow he manages to get you to the edge of the empty platform, it was near the end therefore there weren’t many people who started the challenge with your group here at the moment since you literally tried to speedrun it.

He pushed your body against it, making your hands hold onto the railing. He bends you so your ass was perked up perfectly for him. His eyes trailed only to the curve of your body and the way you tried to look anywhere but at him, finding the trees more interesting.

He holds your waist in both of his hands, slowly thrusts himself into the nook of your butt. You muffled a moan with a bite of your lip, he can’t have the luxury of getting that out of you in public. “Keep pretending you don’t enjoy this, we both know you’re soaking wet.”

“I told you, looking at you makes me as dry as─”

Satoru cuts you off, “Shut up, stop being a brat.”

His cock erect inside of his shorts easily brush against your warm-clothed cunt, it wasn’t like he could just take off these tight-ass shorts right now but hell, he wanted to. His body felt heavy even though he was only just pushing against you, his large hands holding your waist were the only thing you could focus on. Does the trim his nails every day or something they’re so neat.

He leans over your body, pressing his chest against your back, head resting against the crook of your neck, “You think she’d kill us if she saw us? What do you think she’d do, blame me or you? Break up with me or fuck your relationship up…to be honest, she’s so in love with me I bet she’d forgive me in a heartbeat but you? I don’t even know what she’d do with you.”

“Stop it then,” You grabbed his hands, trying to pry him off. You turned your head to meet his blue eyes, you only noticed now that he’s not been wearing his sunglasses, “We’re not doing this.”

“Why not,” He whines, smiling ear to ear, “I wanna.” Satoru thrusts into you again, whatever you tried didn’t work, his grip was too tight. His dick bulging through his pants fit so snugly in the gap between your legs, perfect fit.

His lips engulf your earlobe, he sucks on it practically moaning in your ear, “I’d do anything to rip your clothes off right now. Fuck, I miss how tight your pussy is.”

It was hard to resist but you didn’t even know where your sister was, she could literally be right behind you and she might actually push you off to your death if you were caught with the love of her life. You wiggled around, slipping out of his hold to only be able to turn around and face him, hands on his chest pushing him as far as your arms could. It wasn’t much, he was leaning in trying to catch your lips with his.

“We can’t.”

Satoru groans, throwing his head back, exposing his veiny throat to you. “You’re so difficult.”

He wouldn’t reveal this to you but his cock was throbbing in his pants right now, practically dripping with precum. He loved the way you talked, argued, and fought against him-you hated him and god, he wanted you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t feel his cock, he wanted you to but he didn’t want you to know the things you could do to him if only you would ask. You were too bratty to ever ask, only demand.

“Would you push me off if I fingered you?” His lips trailed down the side of your neck, his hair brushing against your face. His thick fingers tapping against your inner thigh, trying to pry them open, “Don’t you want to just, feel them? Feel my fingers inside of you?”

You swallowed, hard. Your legs wobbled, you had to reposition them and he noticed, smirking again. Satoru slides his finger up between your legs, past the barrier of the hem of your shorts. It is a tight fit but it made it all the more interesting, his fingers felt the soft fabric of your bikini bottom and he moves them aside.

He heard you choke on your breath, his eyes meeting the blushed expression on your face, shy and worried but you never stopped him.

It wasn’t like it was hard, there wasn’t much between him and his goal and well, his goal was soaking wet as he predicted. Your small whimpers, moans of pleasure, like a song in his ears. Finally.

It was slightly uncomfortable, just the position and the way your shorts restricted his wrist. His fingers could only go so deep, only two of them fit through and lapped up all your wetness, he doesn’t hesitate to plunge inside, feeling the way it suctions him in. “Dry as a desert, huh?”

He teases you again, he always does, whether it be with his words or his eyes. You arched your back, hoping he’d have room to go deeper. A hand gripping onto the one he’s using to fuck you, holding him in place.

“You can’t just─” You bellowed, a whimper leaving your lips, “Fuck, that feels really good.”

Satoru groans, nodding at your response. He curls his fingers, trying to reach for the depths. There wasn’t any more room for him to penetrate, it wasn’t like he could easily finger you either, all he could do was stay fully penetrated and feel for what he wanted to use, abuse and oh, there it is.

You bite your lip so hard it nearly bleeds, the hand on his wrist brightens the colour on his wrist-probably going to bruise it. You choked, “Sa-Satoru, fuck, that’s it.”

He smiles, his lips return to your neck, resisting the urge to bite down on it, “I told you, with age comes experience. That guy over there wouldn’t be able to find your soft spot so fast.”

You nod, you don’t really know why but you were too delirious. Maybe it was the thrill, knowing anyone could just walk over that platform bridge and bust you. Even below, a hundred meters below someone could just look up and see you soaking down your legs.

“Are you going to cum you fucking brat?” Satoru growls, sensing how you tighten around his fingers, he works harder trying to get you there, “Come on, be a good girl and cum.”

Damn it. Why did he have to sound like that, his voice was groveled, deep, and lewd.

You unraveled, simply and easily. The dangerous thrill, his voice, and just his being in front of you caused all this to be so fucking simple. You came so hard, your legs shake the platform-you wanted to scream out, loudly and just let him know but hell, you could imagine the look on people’s faces after realizing a girl just got finger-fucked on a tropical adventure park.

He pulls out, looking at his glistening fingers. He smiles, pleased with it. “Open.”

You do it, why not? He shoves his fingers into your mouth, passing your swollen lips from all the biting. He flattens it against your tongue erotically, rolling it, cleaning it. He couldn’t resist going a bit deeper, holding the back of your head with his other hand he tilts your head back.

“Shit, you don’t have a gag reflex?” He moans, “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

He feels the back of your throat easily with his long fingers, he could practically bust with a lustful expression on your face, eyes hazed from your orgasm and lips parted like a good girl for him.

He hears a piece of wood creak and pulls out quickly, accidentally nudging your tonsil, and you cough. “Ow, what the fuck.”

Then, his eyes widened he didn’t even need to turn around to know. “Yea, what the fuck indeed.”

Your sister stands across from the two of you. Oh god, your face heats up and your heart drops to your stomach. Satoru’s still got his left hand wrapped around your neck, your face flushed.

“Satoru, did you just─did you just try to touch my sister?” Your sister yells, running over and grabbing his other arm.

Satoru still in shock has to play it off or else they’d be done for, “Oh, uh─no. Babe, why would I do that?”

Your sister scoffs, finally getting him off of you, seeing the red mark on your neck. “I know you’re a man-whore but my fucking sister? My innocent little sister, Satoru!”

Oh, somehow you felt a sense of relief. She assumed he was about to do something.

“Are you okay?” She asks, seeing you hold your throat still trying to recover, “I can’t believe you choked her so hard she’s coughing!”

Well, sister, it wasn’t exactly that but you weren’t going to argue. “Baby, I promise I wasn’t trying to hit on your sister─”

“Yea, but you were clearly hurting her!”

Your eyes flicker towards Satoru, his eyes are large and unsteady. He grabs your sister by her waist, trying to soothe his way out of this, “I was just playing, baby.”

“Playing what? Choke your girlfriend’s sister to death, or were you trying to hold her down and kiss her? Huh, tell me.”

He rolls his neck, stressed, “I wouldn’t kill your sister.”

“Oh, so you wanted to kiss her?” Your sister crosses her arms, you wished you could disappear from this moment. So you try, moving over a little.

Your sister doesn’t let you though, “Stay still, I need to make sure he won’t hurt you again.”

You pucker your lips standing behind her as she tries to protect you.

Satoru's eyes flicker between his girlfriend and his girlfriend's sister, thinking which lie would suit this situation more, fuck it. “Yea, I was.”

“Oh my god! Are you drunk? I swear to god, I can’t ever leave you alone. Just because we look alike doesn’t mean you can just try to kiss her, okay?” Satoru wanted to disagree, you two didn’t look anything alike-it was like night and day. His girlfriend was this bright, confident, and extroverted sun and you were this mysterious, moody, and introverted moon but still, the way your eyes are looking at him-seductive, dirty, and arrogant. He found you so much hotter.

“I’m sorry baby.”

She huffs, taking his hand, “It’s fine, let’s just get going. My feet fucking hurt.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You couldn’t believe your sister was so chill about Satoru trying to kiss you. Maybe it was something he did often, did he cheat on her often or something? This finally hit you that you were an accomplice in Satoru cheating on your own sister.

If your pillow could suffocate you, you would do it.

You nearly jump out of your skin when your bedroom door opens. Facing the direction you knew it to be the familiar white-haired cunt.

“What do you want now?”

Satoru pouts, “Not happy to see me?”

He makes his way towards your dimly lit bed, the only light was from the television you had on playing something random as background music whilst you were scrolling on your phone. He doesn’t even say anything when he pulls back your blanket and jumps in.

You send him a weird look, “Erm, what’s this?” You move over from the center of the bed to the right more, away from his warm nearly naked body. It wasn’t until he was near that you noticed he was shirtless and only wore his boxers.

He leans back, putting his arm over his head, his biceps popping as he does. Satoru cocks his head your way, “Your sister kicked me out of bed.”

“I wonder why,” You say, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself, “She didn’t dump you?”

Satoru chuckles, “Nah, she loves me.”

His face is illuminated by the light from the tv, you’ve never been in such a position with him. The last time you were in a room with him alone, some things happened and well, there wasn’t much talking at all.

“She said anything about me?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Nah, she loves you too I guess. She blames me, says I needa’ stop trying to kiss everyone thats pretty.”

“You do that often? Cheat, lie, manipulate, take advantage-”

“Aight, I get it,” He cuts you off, his blue eyes glistening, “I don’t cheat on your sister, like ever. You are the first okay? I just have a bad track record, before I met your sister─I was as your sister says─a man-whore.”

“But why are you in here?”

He smiles, “Because, she kicked me out and you’ve got a comfy bed.”

“Is that all?”

His eyes glimmer now, with excitement, “No, I wanted to see you.”

“Whore.”

He acts hurt, “Ouch, offended.” His smile brightens, he bits his pink-hued lips eyeing you.

“Honestly, you should just forget me and go back to her, I’m sure if you kiss her or something she’d take you right back in her arms,” You suggest, watching the video on your phone.

Satoru groans on your side, within a split second he throws your phone onto the bed and holds your jaw with his hand, “I don’t want her, do you need me to keep repeating this?”

“Well, you can’t have me so, fuck off.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing you down into the bed as his body rolls over the top of you caging you in underneath him. His predator-like stance over your prey-like frame. He puts his hand over your mouth, “Could you just shut up for once in your life.”

Your muffled voice sends back a response and he just smirks.

“I can’t hear you but I guess that’s a good thing. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, your fucking mouth I just keep imagining my dick inside of it. How do you not have a gag reflex, for a kid like you─”

“I─am not. I’m not a vi-virgin─you, you fuckface, I─wasn’t one when we first fucked either.” You choked out under his hand.

He chuckles, his voice vibrates through you, in a dark room with nothing but yourselves it somehow felt different, “Obviously, virgins don’t know how to ride cock the way you do, but then again I never made you cum around my dick so I don’t even know if you cum like a virgin.”

“Have you got some weird virgin kink, because that’s plain weird─” He’d let you talk for a second.

Then close his hand over your mouth again, “I fucking don’t, now just shut up again.”

“I just find it kinda fun, how you’ve barely had any experience yet, somehow I just have this gut feeling that you’re a freak. I wanna know how you take cock in your throat.”

With the look, you could’ve easily had him wrapped around your fingers, he hopes you’ll never find out. He sits on the bed hands laced between strands of your messy hair that he’d tug and pull at making you moan stuffed with his cock inside your mouth.

Satoru’s cock was shaped like it was made by gods, molded like the picture-perfect dick. It curves beautifully, no wonder it feels so good. Its size is beyond average, he’s impressed with how much of it you could take inside of your mouth. Before long, it hits the back of your throat, and when he’d think you couldn’t take anymore he feels it go deeper into the ridges of you, his nose hitting his crotch. Fuck, when was the last time a girl had his entire cock inside their mouth.

His head thrown back, he couldn't even playoff how good he felt. He could tell it was stroking your ego, you knew how to suck dick.

You moaned purposefully, the vibrations caused his dick to twitch. He hisses, breathing through the waves in his stomach. His eyes were barely open, he wanted to see it.

He wants to see your watery eyes, choking on his cock. Fuck, so the no-gag reflex was an actual thing, he’d do this all day if he could.

You drag your tongue around the underside of his cock when you pulled back, rolling your tongue around his velvet tip, swirling before prodding at the leaking cum. “Hhm, you taste good…for a prick.”

He laughs darkly, voice deep from all the grunting he was doing, “You lied right? You’ve gotta have been with more than five guys.”

You licked your palm, eyes connected to him the entire time and you saw him gulp. Using the palm to pleasure his veiny rod. You shake your head, smiling, “Nah, I didn’t lie. I’m just talented. You forget that I’m a camgirl.”

“Fuck, uh-fuck, yea you-you are so fucking ta-talented. Dirty fucking, camgirl.” He could barely hold back when you took his tip back in your mouth, as you fisted his cock, the double stimulation making him thrust into your mouth, “Let me, fuck, let me cum in your throat pretty girl.”

“Beg,” You pulled out, smacking your lips, wiping away the drool, “Beg me and I’ll let you. I’ll even swallow.”

His eyes lit up and his lips stretch ear to ear. “Fuck─yeah, please, let me cum in your throat. Please, (y/n), I’ll do anything.”

You hum, pleased with his obedience, for a guy like him you thought it was so fun to be like this. Honestly, most men in this position would do anything to bust in your mouth.

“Do you beg my sister?”

Satoru perks, “Huh?”

“Do you beg her, for her to let you cum?”

Satoru shakes his head, “Fuck no, only you.”

You liked that answer.

Taking him back in your mouth, he nearly screams. The euphoria he feels, he doesn’t even regret begging, god, he never fucking begs.

His dick was so hard it could explode, you could tell he was near his end. It throbs in your mouth and you take it completely in, resting it in as deep as it could go. You dragged your mouth in and out, sucking on it and rolling your tongue as you could.

Satoru can’t hold it anymore, he bites his lip, moaning your name. He grips your hair hard, making you meet his eyes. “Fuck─shit, I’m gonna cum─”

During this, the entirety of it he was loud like extremely loud to the point that when your sister came looking for her boyfriend walked around everywhere she could think he would be, and ended up at your bedroom door. She doubts that he’d be in there but only with one step past it, the noises coming from the door made her freeze.

He was moaning her sister’s name, her little sister’s name. She drops down next to the door, listening to all the sweet shit he says to you. How he’s obedient, talkative, and listens to you. He’d never been like that with her, he’d always been a fuck and go kinda guy so what’s changed.

She was angry but she wasn’t going to walk in, and curse her eyes with the sight of him fucking you or whatever what happening in there.

Satoru’s fucked out eyes beamed at you, his gentle hand paws at your cheeks. He tells you to open your mouth, you opened them. His fingers spread your lips as he looks down your throat. The overload of his cum fills it to the brim, he feels his stomach flip. The sight that, oof.

“Swallow, all of it,” He urges, you close your lips and swallow as he says. Satoru leans towards your swollen and overused lips, attaching his to it. He sucks and pulls on it, sloppy, he was drunk on the taste. “You’re such a good fucking girl.”

He stayed in your bed, even spooning you. If only he knew, that your phone was blowing up from a certain guy who did give you his number on the course.

Megumi: i’ll take you up on that

You tap the screen of your phone, thinking of a response.

You: you're still awake?

Megumi: can’t stop thinking about you

Seems like all the guys around you think the same.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

© moongumi 2022. all rights reserved, do not copy and publish my writing anywhere else.

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This is the good shit right here literally chef kiss 🤌✨

aries,,i need to know ur thoughts on sneaking into a supply closet w aki while there are literal devils outside trying to break down the door …

sin supplier | hayakawa aki

PAIRING.  aki x fem!reader

LENGTH.  3.6k words

NOTES.  this is just. so horny laksdlk im sorry

SYNOPSIS.  aki knows he shouldn’t, but he just can’t help himself. 

CONTENT.  pwp, power imbalance (aki is the reader’s superior, but the reader has the upper hand for most of the fic), switchy dynamics (reader initiates and instructs), foreplay + teasing, dubcon (reader has persuasion/mind control abilities through a contract with a corruption devil), intoxication (aki’s state of mind is influenced by the reader’s abilities), slight corruption (m rec), blowjob, deep throating, cum swallowing, handjob, overstim (m rec), multiple orgasms (m + f), thigh fucking, cumshot, cum as lube, creampie, (unintentional) manhandling, ripping clothes, spit, biting (f rec), reader is insatiable and just generally insufferable

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING THE CONTENT STATED IN THE WARNINGS.

Aki knows he shouldn’t. 

He shouldn’t be condoning this, not when there are dozens of little Devils scratching at the door, bloodthirsty and desperate to get in—the same Devils the two of you were sent to this decaying old school to take care of. The same Devils the two of you were right in the middle of hunting down, when you’d pulled him into this crowded supply closet and kicked the heavy door closed behind you.

In the end, the Devils had been the ones to hunt the two of you down instead, and now they’re all congregated right outside the door to the supply closet. Attracted by the scent of his unease, if he had to guess. Or maybe another, more devilish, instinct that lies beneath it.

Aki shouldn’t be alone in small, dark rooms with any of his subordinates. Especially not you.

You: the Corruption Devil’s human consort—Division 6’s problem before the transfer made you Aki’s problem. And there’s no question that you are a problem; that much had become clear when he’d discovered exactly what ability your contract gives you.

You call it Persuasion; he’d call it Mind Control: an uncanny knack for getting exactly what you want, especially when it comes to things that shouldn’t be done. More specifically, your contract with the Corruption Devil—one of your many contracts with many dubious Devils, and arguably the most dodgy one of them all—grants you a certain, near-irresistible allure: you make people want to give you exactly what you want.

Near-irresistible. Not impossible to resist. There has to be some natural element of attraction present for Persuasion to really work. That’s what Aki knows from what he read in the paperwork, at least. 

He also knows that, as your superior, there’s no way in hell he should be letting you back him up against the supply shelf behind him—but the metal’s already digging into his back, and your fingers are pulling at the knot of his tie, working it loose. 

The insistent scratching at the door grows louder, and Aki manages a strained What the hell do you think you’re doing? 

“Depends, boss,” you offer sweetly, moving closer until your tits are pressed up against him. “What is it that you want me to do?” 

“This is…”

Inappropriate? Untimely? Fucking insane? Something like that; but his head’s cloudy and getting cloudier, and he loses the words as soon as you get on your tiptoes to press your lips to his throat, scattering hot kisses there as you undo the buttons of his shirt. 

He shudders, bringing a hesitant hand up to squeeze at the back of your neck—encouragement that he shouldn’t be giving, but the feeling of your tongue on his neck sends blood rushing between his thighs, and the space between the two of you so small that his stiffening cock is aching as it strains against your body. 

He knows this is risky in more ways than one: that the noises outside this tiny room keep getting louder, that the door won’t hold, that this shouldn’t be happening; but all these little things that he knows don’t mean a single thing when you’re murmuring up to him—Oh, you’re so hard. You know, I can help you out, Captain. 

Whatever misgivings he might have don’t stand a chance when you’re rubbing his cock through his slacks, and he can feel the grip of that allure—Persuasion—tightening the closer you get. Desire shoots through his veins like a drug, heightening into an insatiable craving for you, you, you—tunnel vision that narrows, senses that sharpen until all he can see, smell, hear is you. It’s a desire so intense that just the smell of you hits him with the dizzying urge for more.

And something else: an ache to please—the irresistible imperative to give you exactly what you want, whatever you want.

By now, Aki understands something that wasn’t in the paperwork: that your ability must grow stronger with proximity—and if it’s a concentrated, airborne vapor that somehow emanates from your skin like he thinks, he must be right in the thick of it. But he’s past the point of caring about which desires are natural and which aren’t; he’s already feeling you—one hand still wrapped around the back of your neck, the other slipping down the small of your back to squeeze your ass. 

And he shouldn’t, it’s not like him, but all he cares about is one thing.

It’s definitely not the banging at the door, which he only registers dully, managing the weakest of protests—They’re right there—as you sink down to your knees in front of him.

You look up with an insincere pout, retort with an equally insincere, “What’s right there, Captain?”

“The fucking Devils,” he slurs, “they’re—”

But you’re running your tongue over the stiff bulge in his slacks, and the heat of your mouth is hitting his dick through the fabric, and he’s cutting himself off with a groan.

“Are you really that worried about it?” you tease up to him. “I never thought a guy like you would stress over small fry like that. Plus, don’t you have some…” —you pause, squeezing his cock through his slacks, sending precum oozing down his thigh— “...bigger problems?” 

Another slam against the door. He wants you so badly he can barely even bring himself to say, This isn’t—I should really—

And even then, it doesn’t sound that convincing.

“Should really what?” you muse, pulling his zipper free.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what he should do; he only knows that he wants you to keep going, that you’re tugging his slacks down to pull his cock out, and it feels so good when you grip the throbbing shaft that he’s oozing precum all over your fingers and moaning before you even start to jerk it. 

“You should really take care of those Devils, right?” you laugh, leaning forward to spit messily on the tip of his dick, smiling up at him when he inhales sharply through his teeth. “Go do something about them, then,” you say—spit coating the length of his cock as you stroke it, spit glistening on your upturned lips in the half-dark—it’s a dare.

In those truth-or-dare games as a kid, Aki would always choose truth; he’s come to terms with the truth of this situation—that he should take care of the things beyond this room, but all he cares about is what’s happening inside of it. 

He’s too far gone, too hooked on the feeling of your mouth as you swallow up his dick. All the way, until the tip of your nose hits his pelvis and he’s twitching in your throat, leaking hot precum balls-deep in your mouth. You pull back when you have to gag, then swallow it again—bobbing your head over and over, leaving him covered in spit and moaning from the soft, wet flesh of your cheeks and your tongue on his cock. It’s so good; you fuck him with your mouth until he’s one swallow away from cumming down your throat.

He holds it, tries to pull out, slurring, God, I’m gonna—, but you ball your hands up in the fabric of his shirt to pull him forward, sucking him in to the base again; and he’s knotting his hands up in your hair, groaning—You wanna swallow my cum? 

You gargle around it, digging your nails into his skin. So he stays where he is—one hand resting on the back of your head, his dick buried in your mouth—and lets the pleasure hit, twitching against the tight ridges of your throat with each spurt of cum he shoots into you. 

You cough, choking on it over and over, with tears pooling in your eyes. But you keep it down until he’s done, swallowing almost everything he gives you, so there’s just a little pool of thick white left on your tongue when he pulls out. The sight of his cum in your mouth sends his head spinning, sends more blood between his thighs—but he’s still hard, never went soft; he wonders, studying you through lashes weighed down by pleasure, if it’s a result of whatever you’re emanating, or if he just wants you that badly. 

He pants, tries to catch his breath, but he doesn’t even have time to do that before you wrap your fingers around his cum-coated dick. He grits his teeth, swears at the intensity, watching you tilt your head, part your lips, and adjust to take his balls in your mouth. It’s sloppy, messy: sucking him with spit dripping from the corners of your mouth and your fist slippery with cum as you jack the sensitive tip of his cock. 

It’s—ah, fuck—it’s—

It’s too much, it’s so good; something in between the two. He’s groaning, gripping the metal of the shelf behind him as another high builds, intensifying when you start to moan with your mouth full of him—a needy, muffled sound that goes straight to his head and clouds whatever coherent space might have been left with one urge: he needs to fuck you.

Something hits the door from the outside with enough impact to make the hinges groan.

Fuck, he slurs feverishly. It’s not gonna hold, c’mere, get up. 

You’re up, pulling him down by the collar and into a sloppy kiss; he tastes his cum on your tongue, feels the desire flare in his chest like he took a hit, runs his hands down your sides.

So are you gonna fuck me? you ask, pulling away to look up at him through your lashes. Or are you gonna stall until the door breaks?

His hands catch your hips; he squeezes, twists you around before pushing you forward against the metal with enough force to send supplies rattling off the sides of the shelf and crashing to the floor.

“Shit,” he says hazily, so drunk on the intensity of the want in his veins, his head so muddled with it that he’s worried maybe he hurt you. “Are you okay?”

But you’re laughing, hands tight on the metal; he dips his neck down to bury his face in your throat, to get closer. Because the closer he gets, the more intoxicating the smell of you is—the more addicting.

“Attaboy, Captain,” he hears. There’s a buzz in your voice, as if he’s hearing you through static. “To be honest, I didn’t really think you had it in you.”

He takes a deep inhale of the dizzying, up-close smell of your skin, and slurs, “Why’s that?” 

“You’re Public Safety’s good boy, aren’t you? Proper, moral, obedient. I know you play by the rules. You do whatever they tell you.”

He’s sucking at the skin of your throat, pulling blood to the surface over and over, and you’re laughing, “But look at you now. Getting your dick wet on a mission. Fucking the subordinate you’re supposed to be protecting.” 

He laughs wryly against your throat. “God,” he murmurs. “You’re such a pain in my ass, did you know that? This is all because of you.”

“You’re as depraved as they get,” —your words are shaky, disrupted by your shudders as he nips at your throat; he runs his tongue over the skin, feels an instant head high the moment he tastes you— “but I like it for you. Keep going.”

The taste of you is like an addiction; he can’t get enough, keeps licking and sucking your skin and getting himself higher.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he says without thinking, barely even in his head; his body seems to move on its own, his hand slipping down the front of your slacks to rub over your pussy through the fabric. “How long have you been wanting this?” 

There’s a series of bumps at the door as he unbuttons your slacks, pulls your zipper down, hooks his thumbs over the sides and pulls them down, bringing your panties down with them. His dick leaks precum onto the bare skin of your ass. 

“It’s been—” you say, breaths catching when he positions his cock at the apex of your thighs from behind and slides in between them, “—it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” he slurs, with his dick throbbing between your thighs—slick from your pussy, hot from your warmth, “I thought so.”

He spares a glance back at the door, watching the shadows swarming in the sliver of light beneath it; he’s running out of time, but he could spend forever nestled between your thighs, feeling the slick from your pussy dribbling out onto his dick, getting the shaft sticky and warm. He places one hand on the shelf next to yours, rests his weight there as he sucks your throat, each second at that proximity getting him drunker.

“Don’t act like you haven’t wanted it, too,” he hears you say through the fog in his head, each sentence punctuated by a gasp. “Just because you never acted on it doesn’t mean you didn’t want to. My Devil shows me how easy someone would be to Persuade. I know exactly how much attraction is already there. I barely even had to do anything and look at you—I could give you any command in the world and you’d do it.” 

His free hand is on your tits now, squeezing, kneading. “So why don’t you?” he murmurs.

You laugh a little. “Okay.” And then comes the command: “Touch me.” 

The urge surges in his chest—the imperative so compelling that he forgets all about the buttons on your shirt and instead balls his fist up in the fabric right where it is and pulls, tearing your shirt open. Your buttons go flying: some to the shelf, some to the floor; but he doesn’t apologize this time, just slips his hand through the opening in your shirt to pull down your bra and knead your tits. They’re warm in his palm, soft enough to make his dick pulse against your ass.

“And what else do you want?” he murmurs.

“Move,” you instruct. “Don’t make me wait.”

You were right; he is obedient, he does follow instructions—especially when you’re the one giving them, especially right now, with the fog in his head and that control of yours overwhelming him. He does just what you ask—moves: licks the fingers of his free hand and brings them to your clit to circle it as he fucks the slippery space between your thighs, sliding his dick back and forth until he’s coated in your sticky, hot mess.

“I’ve got the most morally upstanding guy in Public Safety,” you laugh shakily, squeezing your legs around his dick, “and he’s right between my thighs.” 

“Can you blame me?” he says hazily against your ear, overtaken by the desire for more instruction, another opportunity to please. “I just wanna give you everything you want.” 

There’s a cracking sound at the door: wood splintering, maybe, but he doesn’t care about that when you’re saying, I want you to put it in, I want to feel your cock stretching me out. 

That little half-gasp, half-moan when he pushes past your tight entrance; the feeling of you clenching on his dick, your gooey walls sucking him deeper as he eases into you—it’s overwhelming. It’s almost as addicting as the smell of you, as the sounds you make when he fucks you up against the shelf, nipping at your ear and asking—Is this what you wanted from me? 

Yeah, you gasp, now fuck it deeper.

And he does; he buries his cock all the way in you over and over, slurring, Spoiled brat, you always get exactly what you want, don’t you?

Always.

And what do you want now, huh—do you want me to make you cum?

You slur an affirmative with his fingers rubbing your clit, so he fucks you harder—hitting some spot that makes you moan Right there. A few more deep strokes in the same place and then you’re cumming: walls pulsing around his dick, gasping and moaning and squirming, pressed up between him and the shelves; it takes everything in him not to pump you full while he fucks you through it. 

He pulls out when it’s over, but you whine for more: Put it back in, I want you to fuck me until you cum. 

So he pulls you over to the little desk sitting beside the shelf, pushes the things on it to the floor in the same second that he bends you feverishly over the surface. You’re laid out over it, hand gripping the opposite edge, and he watches it tighten as he nudges your hips up and eases back into you.

Whatever you want, baby. 

He buries it deep, feels your sensitive walls tense up as he leans over you—one fist balled up on the desk, the other gripping your hip. There’s a crash at the door, another loud crack; but you’re turning your head to him and he’s tilting his, slipping his tongue into your mouth to swallow up your moans as he fucks you from behind. 

And when he pulls away to nip at your lips you’re slurring instructions: fuck me deeper, fuck me harder, give it to me. Each little command makes his head spin; the grip you have on him is so strong, and your pussy is eating him up so greedily—how could he not give it to you exactly how you want it? How could he not fuck you deeper, harder, give it to you until your thighs are shaking, until everything’s so wet and tight and your moans are turning into pleas? 

It feels so good fucking into you that when you tell him to shoot his cum all over your pussy it only takes one more thrust before he’s ready to give it to you; and then he’s pulling out, breaths catching, jerking his fist over his cock until the tension snaps. His cum spurts out onto you—coats your puffy, glistening lips and stretched hole in a sticky white mess.

He leans over you: fucked out, head hazy, his dick still twitching in his palm—still hard as he watches his cum dribble down the outside of your pussy. And when you tell him to fuck you again—put it back in, I want more, make me cum again—he drags the sensitive tip through his own cum, smears it over your hole, and pushes it back into you while it’s still hot. 

Hot and—God, it’s wet, he’s groaning; it’s wet and tight and so slick in you, so lubed up with your juices and all of the cum he pushed back inside that the thick white liquid smears back onto his cock with each stroke, gathering all over the shaft and the base. He grips your ass, spreads you out, watches the rest of his cum drip down your skin, watches his cock disappear into your pussy with his teeth gritted against the sensitivity; it’s too much, but he’s so feverish with the urge to give you what you want that he’ll take it. 

He’s panting from the overstimulation, but by the time you tell him you’re close—bent over the desk with your fingers on your clit and your back arching—the pleasure’s building up again for him too, another knot tightening in his stomach. 

So when you gasp I’m cumming, and he feels the waves of another orgasm hitting you—your cum-slick walls contracting on his cock over and over—he’s right there. He’s already on the edge when you slur, Cum inside me, fill me up. 

Yeah, baby, yeah—he digs his teeth into your shoulder, and the tension snaps; with a shudder, he shoves his cock in deep and lets your convulsing walls milk him while you cum, pumping you full of the rest of it as he rides the same wave that’s making you squirm under him.

There’s a pause: just a few moments of respite.

His breaths slow as he listens to you catch yours, and for a second even the Devils are quiet.

And then there’s a deafening crash and another loud splintering sound—the door’s going to give. He’s still breathing hard as he disentangles himself from you; then he’s pulling up his slacks, buttoning his shirt and crossing the room to swipe his sword off the floor. 

“They’re about to break through,” he says, looking your way to find you reclining lazily on top of the desk. “You should get ready.”

He fixes his face with a stern expression, but for a split second he wonders about this feeling he has: the grip, the imperative—the Persuasion—is gone, but the desire lingers. 

“Can’t you take care of those Devils for me, Captain?” you smile crookedly, gesturing to your tattered shirt. “I can’t really work like this. Wouldn’t be professional.” 

Aki clenches his jaw. “You make this job even harder than it already is. You know that?”

“How so?” 

“Slovenly. Insolent. Lazy. Not to mention—”

“Gee,” you interrupt. “No wonder you like me so much.”

“Can’t stand you, actually,” he mutters, glancing at the door, which is rocking in its frame from repeated impact on the other side.

“My Devil doesn’t lie to me,” you say, studying your nails. “You’ve wanted me since the moment I joined your Division.”

“God, you’re a pain,” he says wearily as another deafening crash puts a massive crack in the door. “I’m this close to killing you instead of them.” 

“You could’ve killed them already if you weren’t wasting all your time flirting with me.”

You laugh when he rolls his eyes, then twist your face into an exaggerated pout. “Won’t you protect me, Captain?”

“Fine. I’ll take care of it by myself. Not like you’re giving me a choice.”

“Perfect.”

“But when I’m done,” he says, pulling his sword from its holster, “I think it’s time I taught you some manners.”

You smile widely.

“Yes, sir.”

yummy

kj’s masterlist navigation

note: this is a yandere blog. please take into account what kind of content your comfortable with reading and make sure to read the warnings before each post! also keep in mind that i do not support unhealthy relationships in real life, this is purely for the sake of creative writing!

attack on titan | cont.

obey me shall we date

devilman crybaby

the arcana

hunter x hunter

naruto

my hero academia

fruits basket

danganronpa

mystic messenger

diabolik lovers

haikyuu

demon slayer

tamen de gushi

jujutsu kaisen

sally face

death note

harry potter

atla/lok

genshin impact

oh look👀

heres another one 🤌✨

kj’s attack on titan mastlist cont.

note: if you do not like yandere content do not interact

sweet and chubby darling

darling asks for their hand in marriage

platonic eren and zeke when another yandere takes interest in their sibling

carla hcs 😏

more modern au hcs

darling is deaf

armin’s darling tries to escape from him

their red flags

they find their darling injured on the field

ceo mikasa *literal smut*

darling is angry with them

their darling gets jealous

platonic levi w/ a darling who reminds him of isabel and farlan

rainy day and cuddles

emotionless darling

gamer bf eren

they promised to marry their darling when they were kids

reiner and bertholdt w/ an innocent succubus darling

miche hcs

darling is in a position of power

eren and armin liking the same darling

darling does everything for them

darling goes missing on a mission

darling is jealous of someone close to them

someone walks in while they’re having sex *contains nsfw*

darling has an anxiety disorder

armin and yelena w/ a darling that has social anxiety

how they take care of their darling during quarantine

they hear their darling confessing to a piece of pizza

yelena and eren w/ a shifter darling

*last updated 4/23/22*

please refer back to the masterlist navigation to find the first aot masterlist

dont mind if i do 👀

i reblog for the sole purpose of marking works that are yummy

kj’s attack on titan masterlist

note: if you do not like yandere content do not interact

gen hcs

yelena intimidates her darling

darling breaks down around them

darling is a civilian

mute darling

darling escapes and gets caught

touch-starved darling

yandere hits a breaking point and kidnaps their darling

titan-shifter darling

darling hates them

darling is a medic

darling hides being sick

onyankopon’s darling loves him

darling likes to sleep in their lap

eren hcs

darling has stockholm syndrome

shy and quiet darling

zeke, reiner, and bertholdt

eren’s darling is a titan-shifter from marley

erwin hcs

darling spends a lot of time with a male best friend

favorite yanderes

someone seriously hurts their darling

darling is a legendary musical artist

possessive eren, armin, and yelena

jean hcs

mikasa and falco birthday post

darling refuses to be with them due to self-esteem issues

sasha hcs (season four spoilers)

darling tries to make them jealous

platonic falco hcs

darling wants to breakup with them

more onyankopon

armin with a caring darling

feral titan eren

suicidal and reckless darling

stoic and touch-starved darling

ymir birthday post

niccolo and porco hcs

forgetful darling

how they show affection

zeke’s darling is a soldier

bertholdt, reiner, and zeke sharing a darling

floch hcs

eren sees his darling wearing someone else’s hoodie

yumikuri sharing a darling

darling who sleeps a lot

porco w/ a darling he could see through ymir’s memories

darling known as a snob is actually just shy

suicidal darling cont.

yelena and floch hcs

darling is a wallflower/introvert

darling is eren’s younger sibling

eren forces infidelity onto his darling

darling gets shot in sasha’s place

more eren hcs

innocent/dense darling *contains nsfw*

darling suffers from insomnia

chubby baker darling

eremin sharing a darling

frieda hcs

hange’s darling is also a yandere

crybaby darling

darling has been reported missing on a mission

darling asks them out

yanderes who would like a chubby darling

yandere is worried their darling is being unfaithful

zeke hcs *contains nsfw*

yelena and floch hcs *contains nsfw*

darling wants to start a family with them

happy darling shutdown after being kidnapped

yandere gets sick and darling takes care of them

darling is tall

they wake up snuggled w/ a darling who left on a mission

darling makes them handmade gifts

eren’s darling is a warrior

darling escapees but came back because they missed them

darling is a traitor

darling rejects them for someone else

modern au eren jaeger

darling suffers from an eating disorder

darling rejects them because they’re already in a relationship

soft porco hcs

modern au high school admirers

darling is a scout

darling asks them out cont.

darling gets catcalled

how they celebrate birthdays

darling gets catcalled cont.

darling starts to tear up during sex *contains nsfw*

eren and zeke’s scientist sibling trying to save their lives

darling turned into a pure titan

darling tries to get into their head

eren emotionally attacked their darling w/ ema

reincarnation au, they see their darling on the street

their darling is also a yandere

goth mikasa w/ a childhood friend

floch’s darling has an eating disorder

after being kidnapped

darling is a childhood friend

*last updated 6/2/21*

Hello? I- yes i'd like to die like this please

can i request some fluff for mammon smelling a really nice perfume on mc and cuddling them all day

This is how you die.

On the bed, phone in hand, a fatal weight crushing your torso. It’s a slow, agonizing death for sure, but it’s not the worst way to go.

“Mammon, I need to charge my phone.”

The demon hums, but doesn’t move a single muscle.

Maybe it isn't such a good idea, stealing his perfume. The very moment he recognized the fragrance, he made it his mission to follow you everywhere you went. He was there in your classes, was clinging onto you as you made your way down the hallways, had his head resting on your shoulder during lunchtime.

And now, just as you’re about to take a nap, he flings himself onto you and tucks his arms comfortably under your back. His hair is a mess from all the tossing, and it's tickling your face. All this cuddling has made you quite hot, and you are quite sure your bones will never be arranged in the same way again.

But to say that you hate it would be a lie. It's far from the truth, actually. You are getting a kick out of the circumstance. It's not everyday Mammon puts his affection on display like this, especially physically. This side of him is almost endearing.

You push his bangs back, and notice that his eyes are closed. "Are you taking the nap for me?"

"Can't help it," his words are slurred with drowsiness. "You smell so good."

"It's the tenth time you tell me that. And mind you, it's your perfume."

"Yea, I have good taste."

The both of you chuckle.

Sleep crawls up on you at last, owing to his steady breathing and peaceful countenance. Throwing your phone to the far side of the bed, you shift so that you are lying flat on your back and wrap your arms around him. He buries his face even further into your shirt, so much that you aren't sure if he can breathe.

You shake the thought off. Death by cuddling doesn't sound too bad anyways.

Nah BECAUSE THERES NO WAY IM NOT SAVING THIS AND LEAVING IT IN MY MESS OF LIKES

༄ — navigate my works easier!

༄ — all works are gn!reader unless stated. if there are some mistakes ahead, pls tell me

MONDSTADT

↳ ❝ the city of freedom ❞

LIYUE

↳ ❝ the land of contracts ❞

INAZUMA

↳ ❝ the nation of eternity ❞

PROMPTS

i love you

↳ writing prompt: different ways of saying “i love you”

AHAHSGSHSH OH HOW THE TURNFTABLES

i ate this up liekdksjejdj

𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.

word count: 2.2k

tags: fem! reader, 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, unprotected sex, friends with benefits to lovers

a/n: happy birthday to my favorite insufferable nuisance. he’s probably ooc sobs leave me alone

gojo satoru doesn’t get ghosted. he does the ghosting.

he’s used to heartbroken girls that expect a call back, he’s used to bitter whispers about him after a one-night stand stays at just a one-night stand, and he’s used to getting up and leaving.

but he’s not used to this. he’s not used to being the one left, and he can’t fathom that someone wouldn’t want to text him back—let alone collect their things and leave him in the morning without a word. and truth be told, he’s a little wounded. he tells himself it’s strictly because his pride and ego and dignity are all tainted by your inability to comprehend just what you had scored and not anything else. because that’s exactly what it is, no doubt about it.

he’s embarrassed, not hurt. and it’s most certainly not because he finds you attractive—more so than he’s found anyone else in a really long time, and there is no chance that it’s because he enjoys seeing you interact with his students—he refuses to acknowledge that the warmth that spreads through his chest is actually warmth, and it’s a cold day in hell before he admits if it’s because he has feelings for you.

gojo satoru doesn’t do feelings. he simply doesn’t. that’s why he doesn’t care that you’re right here, in front of him—because there are definitely no feelings involved.

“funny running into you here,” you tilt your head, setting your bag down on the table. the cafe is quiet at this hour, and you’re on your lunch break. he knows you are, he knows a lot of things about you, and he wants to learn more. he can’t really understand why he cares.

“i don’t remember saying you could sit at my table,” he grins lazily at you. “i don’t remember you asking to join me either, but i wouldn’t wanna break your heart. you can stay,” he says smugly, and a small part of his chest blooms at the amusement that twinkles in your eyes. they’re a lot brighter in this lighting, and even if he gets to see them up close when he’s hovering over you in bed, he never gets to stare at them in this manner.

“you’re sitting at my table, actually,” you squint at him. “i always come here during my lunch break.” he thinks it’s funny that you lift your chin in defiance, it’s a quirk he’s caught onto quickly, and it’s endearing.

“i thought i’d make your break a bit more interesting today,” he winks, and even if you can’t see it through the blindfold, he has a feeling you know. and maybe that’s not really a good thing—he shouldn’t let you know him that well, but it’s too late to draw back now and he couldn’t even if he tried.

“i see enough of you in a day,” you groan playfully. “i deserve a break. from work and you.”

“you see me around often?” he raises a brow. “are you following me?” he smirks at you, making you scoff with a roll of your eyes. there’s a soft chuckle that bubbles all the way from your chest, and gojo almost gulps at the sound. your laugh is a sweet melody, and he could listen to it for an eternity before he gets tired, he could listen to it every night before he sleeps. and even if he denies it to himself, he sleeps way better when your warmth encompasses him instead of just the sheets.

it’s too bad you never stay the whole time.

“if i am, then maybe you’re not as good as they say,” you tease. “i’ve gotten past your radar all this time then.” he grins at the soft little snort that leaves you as you speak, and he also finds that endearing too.

he can’t remember the last time something outside of a sultry voice and skimpy clothes made him want someone this badly, but even just the sound of your laugh has him drawn to you like a moth to a flame. and what draws him to you even more is that he knows that if he gets too close, you won’t burn him. you’re not blazing heat, you’re a subtle warmth, and it’s what he needs deep down.

“i let my fans keep up with me,” he shrugs with a smirk. “i’d hate to let them all down.”

“ah,” you nod, looking down at your lap. instantly, there’s something that shifts, and he’s not sure what it is, but it doesn’t seem good. “don’t you have a mission today,” you raise a brow, and a small part of his chest aches at the way you almost seem to be dismissing him. and even though this is technically his table—he did get here first, after all—suddenly, he feels like an intruder as you stare at him.

“it’s tomorrow,” he corrects casually. “excited you get some more time with me?” he asks, but the cocky demeanor is never enough to phase you, and he can’t understand why.

he’s so unused to this imbalance, so confused why it is that his smug grin doesn’t get you flustered, but it never seems to.

“that’s a shame. i don’t think time is in my favor then,” you sigh dramatically. “i was counting on getting some alone time.” he wants to laugh at the subtle pout on your lips as you speak, and he wants to reach over and poke it with his finger, maybe even run his thumb over the bottom lip, but he quickly stops his thoughts from wandering elsewhere. suddenly, he remembers why he’s here in the first place.

“you do seem to never have enough time,” he hums. “is that why you have such busy mornings?” there’s a small hint of alarm in your expression, and in a moment, you’re scrambling to get up as you bite your lip.

“i…just realized i never ordered my dri—”

“i ordered it for you,” he interrupts. “it should be here in a bit.”

“i have a really specific order,” you avoid looking at his face. “i should go double check you got it right.”

“i know your order,” he says simply. and despite his tendency to never seem to pay attention, you don’t doubt that he did in fact get your order on the mark. sighing, you sit back down slowly, wringing your fingers as you refuse to meet his gaze, even if you can’t exactly meet it through a blindfold anyway.

“i uh…have a lot to do in the mornings,” you mumble.

“too busy for me, huh?” he chuckles dryly, and this time, as you look up, it really does feel like you’ve met his gaze through the cloth, and neither of you can seem to look away.

“satoru,” you whine, and the way your nails used to dig into his skin when he first used to bottom out contrasts greatly to how you cling to him now, arms wrapped around his figure as he inches into your cunt slowly. he starts to breathe more heavily, head finding your neck instantly as you seem to squeeze even tighter around him than the last time he’s fucked you.

“didn’t even do much yet,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, and he can feel your pulse as his nose presses against the skin of your neck. he wonders if you’re aware of his, aware of how your heartbeat is so in sync with his. “already that fucked out?” and if you weren’t too busy moaning at the way he pulls out only to slam back into you, hips angling to thrust right into the spot he knows by heart will get you going, you’d have bit back with something of your own. and gojo thinks it’s one of his favorite things about you, the way you never seem to go down without a fight, even if it’s him you’re up against.

“why are you hiding then?” you huff, and he digs his face deeper into the crook of your neck at your words, almost like he’s scared you’ll rip him out. he lets out a soft groan, breathy and drawn out as his thrusts continue, your walls squeezing around him with each snap of his hips. and even with the way you challenged him just moments ago, your fingers comb through his hair soothingly.

you whimper when he hits a certain spot once more, and he gasps at the way you spasm around him, sucking him in tighter, almost like you don’t want to let him go. the throb of his cock is too much. too good and too painful all at once, the climb to his orgasm muddling his mind as he fucks into you slowly, sensually, each angling of his pelvis perfectly precise.

“the view will make you finish too quick,” he rasps, and even as he chokes on a soft whine, he doesn’t miss a beat to be insufferable. you scoff, but still, your hips raise to meet his, and your upper body closes the gap as your skin touches his. your chests meet, and a wanton moan escapes both of you as your nipples graze the heated skin of the other’s. you can feel the drag of every ridge and every vein of his stiff cock, can almost feel the pulse as it throbs in your wet heat.

“or maybe it’s the—fuck, right there, toru,” you cut yourself off, and he’s breathing much more erratic now, panting harshly into your neck as he tries to stave off his high so he can meet his with yours. “m-maybe it’s the other way around,” you finish your earlier statement with a shaky voice.

he’s close, he’s so close, and it feels so good it almost hurts. you feel so good it almost hurts. it hurts deep in his chest, in corners and crevices he didn’t even know were there as he cradles you closer to his body, and he almost wants to hope the way you’re holding him is you cradling him too. and now, as you choke on cries of his name, as he finally pulls away from your neck to see the way you glow so ethereally with tears pricking your waterline, he thinks maybe he does do feelings—because all he ever wants to do is feel you. he wants to feel you deep within his skin, in his bones, and in his muscles as he becomes one with you.

and he never wants to wake up alone. not without you there.

“fuck, ‘m so close,” he breathes, groaning when you tug him by his hair and pull him into a kiss. he kisses you hungrily, like he’s been starved, a mess of lips and teeth and hot breaths. and he has been starved, he thinks, he’s been starved of you for so long, he doesn’t know how long he can hold out. “f-fuck, cum with me,” he pleads, and how can you not give him what he wants when he asks so nicely?

your walls spasm around him as you let go with a high-pitched whine, back arching off the sheets as your legs wrap around his torso. with a loud grunt, he follows, choking on moans as he cums. thick ropes of cum paint your walls, and he slams his hips desperately into your heat as he fucks you both through your orgasms.

he slumps on top of you when you both finish, catching his breath into the crook of your neck once more. and if he has to cage you with his body to keep you in place, he thinks he will this time around.

“you should be getting ready for your mission,” you whisper after some time, and he nuzzles into you further, and almost as though you understand, you rub his back slowly.

“can’t help but worry about me even after i’ve fucked your brains out,” he teases, and the soft slap to his shoulder makes him let out a quiet, giddy little laugh.

“gonna walk out again,” you warn. “won’t even wait for you to sleep this time.” but gently, you pull the covers over your bodies, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead, pushing back the damp strands that stick to the skin.

“i’ll be walking out this time,” he smiles into your skin. “mission’s in the morning. don’t miss me too much.”

“won’t miss you,” you roll your eyes. it’s silent for a moment before you hesitantly speak up. “you fuck all your little fans like this?” you mumble softly, and his heart aches a little, throbbing in his chest.

“no,” gojo hums. “just you. trying to make everyone jealous.” there’s a small shift in the air again, a good one this time, when you let out a soft breath. and he catches your hand when you go to smack him playfully again, and ever so softly, he presses a tiny kiss to your inner wrist before he falls asleep, body curving against yours perfectly.

this writer has made me a literal hoe for this man i- I cant

tags: fem! reader, breeding, unprotected sex, semi public sex (no one is around), creampie

notes: pls tags work :,)

“wha—satoru, why’d you just warp us in the middle of—” you’re cut off by the cold press of the wall against your back as gojo’s lips firmly push against yours, messy and desperate and so damn needy—and if your eyes hadn’t fluttered shut in response to his lips on yours, they might’ve widened in shock. 

it’s just a little astonishing, just a tad bit unexpected that the man who’s quite literally the strongest is as riled up as he is. and it’s all for you, the way his hands quiver as they trail down your sides and settle on your hips, the way he kisses so sloppy and doesn’t seem to care it’s a clash of tongue and teeth—it’s all because of you. he squeezes your hips, hard, just to ground himself as his breath turns ragged while his lips all but devour yours.

“it’s fine,” he mumbles, “it’s fine, they’ll be fine—fuck, i’ll be quick i promise baby. it’ll be so, so quick,” he groans, and you can feel the strain of his erection through his pants, poking at you as his hands wander past your waist to your ass, squeezing while his tongue glides over your lips before exploring your mouth. his cock is pulsing, hot against you even as the fabric of your clothes separates you from him. 

and as your hands instantly make their way to his hair—like second nature, because really, you could never resist gojo—you have to wonder what could’ve possibly made him so impatiently needy? one second you’re laughing with yuji, ruffling his hair, and the next you’re pressed against a brick wall in the middle of god knows where. and gojo’s big—incredibly so—and he cages you with those broad shoulders of his, towering over you with that annoyingly tall figure, feeling you up and groping your tits with those large hands.

honestly, gojo doesn’t even know where it came from, or why it hit him so suddenly. maybe it’s because you’re so good to yuji, because you guide him so gently with a smile that’s warm. or maybe, it’s because gojo’s still been secretly replaying that image of you waving to that toddler on the streets the other day. perhaps it’s because you’re just so nurturing and so fucking sweet—or maybe…maybe it’s because he thinks he finally has a shot at a perfect little family for once. one to come home to and let a genuine smile take on his face, one that awaits his arrival and wishes him to come back safe, one that’s his and only his. 

and maybe, the idea of you cooing at an infant as you bounce them gently isn’t too bad of an image either—that coupled with the idea of your breasts swelling isn’t too bad, he supposes. 

“but satoru, we’re in the middle of teaching, w-we can’t—”

“won’t take long,” he promises, voice breathless with borderline begging laced in his tone, and gojo satoru has never begged you before. it makes your head spin, makes your knees buckle and your core ache—even if he’s not even verbally said the words. but then he does, and you just don’t know how you’re supposed to say no. “please, please, please. won’t take long. just need to fuck you, just once…just need to fill you up,” he’s rambling, and there’s not a trace of that usual smugness in his words. 

no, this time, all that’s left is a gojo that whines into your mouth, ruts his hips into your fist when you cave and reach and palm his stiff length, reaching past his waistband so your thumb glides through his slit and smears the pre cum around his fat tip. he moans, and it’s so pretty and loud and drawn out—and you just can’t fight the rational part of you any longer. 

“j-just once—you gotta be quick, kay toru? can’t take long,” you warn, and it’s all he needs, all that has to be said for him to push his pants down his legs and pull yours down too—and he fumbles. his hands shake and he’s clumsy as he guides his thick length to slide up and down your folds and collect your slick before he pushes past your entrance.

he chokes, lets out a guttural groan that melts into the skin of your neck as his face buries into the crook of it, skin slapping against yours as he thrusts in and out at a sloppy pace. 

“‘m gonna be q-quick, so quick. fuck—need you so bad, sweetheart. need to see you round with my baby so bad,” he babbles into your neck, cock hammering into you and making your head spin that you almost miss the words. you whimper as his thumb toys with your clit, let out noises so sweet, he craves their taste on his tongue as his mouth is back on yours, drinking in your high-pitched moans. “you look so pretty, yeah? gonna give my p-pretty girl a pretty little baby,” he grunts. 

you clamp down on him at those words, and it hurdles him further into losing all composure, lifting one leg to wrap around his waist so he can sink in deeper, go further, fuck you just that much fuller. he hears you plead, hears your voice break as it begs him to go faster, and then it’s all a blur as he bullies into your weeping pussy as his swollen tip kisses your spot over and over and over again in perfect precision, making you both choke on moans. 

“t-toru,” you gasp, “toru, fuck.”

“‘m close, baby. so close, ‘m g-gonna cum. gonna give you all my cum, gonna fill you up. you’ll look so pretty carrying my baby,” he rasps, and as if his own words hit him like a ton of bricks, he shudders as he groans deeper than you’ve ever heard him. “my baby,” he growls, “f-fuck, you’re gonna have my fuckin’ baby.” 

“wan’ your baby,” you plead, “wan’ it so bad, toru, please,” you cry, tears prickling at your lash line as his thumb rubs circles into your clit while he ruts into your warm walls desperately. your hips push to meet his thrusts, and gojo watches as your jaw slacks with moans that rip from your pretty little lips with each slam of his hips. “c-close, ‘m gonna cum, toru,” you whimper. 

“go ahead, baby,” he encourages, pressing a sweet kiss to your jaw as his hips don’t stutter from their brutal pace, “cum as many times as you need to. gonna carry my baby for me, ‘s the least i can do.” 

you cum with a whine at his words, eyes screwing shut as you grasp at his shirt with a clawed grip, and gojo follows not long after. thick, hot spurts of cum paint your walls white, and his hips cant to fuck his load into you as deep as it’ll go, a choked string of curses falling from his swollen lips as you milk him of every drop. 

“toru!”

“th-that’s it, angel,” he groans, “shit—squeezin’ me so tight, pretty pussy jus’ can’t wait, huh?”

he rides you both through your highs, lets you slump against his chest as you both pant harshly, cum dripping down your thighs as he pulls out. his stares at the sight, at the mess between your legs, at the mess he made—and then he frowns. it’s downright wasteful to let his cum leak, and his cock is still stiff, still just as hard and aching to fill you to the brim as before, so he sinks back in even as you whine, even as your legs quiver and your eyes widen. 

“one more, baby, please. jus’ one more—just to be sure, kay? won’t take long, i promise. one more ‘s all i need,” he slurs, and he doesn’t even give you a chance to fully wrap your arms around his neck before he lifts your legs to latch onto his hips and hoist you up, lips back on yours in another heated kiss. 

“jus’ one more, toru,” you agree when you pull away—and how could you not give in when he asked so sweetly? and truth be told, you’re not entirely sure if you’ll be able to say no if he asks one more time after this, or another time after that, or just one more time after that. 

based on this:

yes. just yes. this is tapping into smth within me that I SWEAR wasnt there a minute ago 👀

— revoked privileges 

→ summary: taking away their cuddling privileges for a month after a fight had happened

→ warnings: grammatical mistakes may occur, having to reject their cuddle sessions, petnames like “love” in diluc’s part, slight cursing, slight crack, tiny angst to fluff

→ childe, diluc, albedo, scaramouche, kazuha (separated)

→ kaeya, zhongli, xiao, aether’s

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