I’m Not Entirely Certain I’m The Best Person To Be Writing For Suo, But One Of My Favourite People

Inertia | Yandere!Childe x GN!Reader

Drabble | Warnings: Toxic relationship, cycle of abuse, mental breakdown, anxiety attack, slight religious themes, not proofread, what is this, childe being a lil’ bit oot, depression, being the only person childe has loved, begging, ok idk what else to put. poot.

What is it?

What is it that made him feel like this?

This unexplainable feeling coursed through his head: dread, like zaps of electricity running beneath his skin, muddying his mind; his ability to utter words gone as if his voice box was stolen. He tries to calm down, inhaling the air that carried your lingering scent, but his thoughts betray him—laughing at his stupidity, at his naivety.

A chuckle escapes his lips. He grips the roots of his hair in frustration, a scream threatening to spill past his throat. You’re not here. You left. You truly left him alone. His brow furrows, his chuckles morphing into a laugh. Of course you would leave; you’re too good for him—a gift from God for the little good deeds he’d done—or perhaps a form of pity for what he’d gone through. For once, he was content with life. He was grateful for what he had, what he could do, and for you.

Though it was short-lived. He supposes God isn’t kind, that maybe he doesn’t deserve happiness—

No,

God doesn’t exist. Who is he kidding? He’d never believed in someone that could save him until he’d met you. Perhaps you are his God. The way you talk, your overflowing curiosity, your subtle smiles, and your hazy, lidded eyes every time you met his gaze—just fuck, just how is he going to live without you?

But why? Why would you do this? Maybe you were being manipulated, he thought. By your own mind, perhaps. You would never leave him. Ever. He knows you well; the person who worried over the smallest wounds over his skin and cared for every little bad happening in his life would NEVER leave him. Perhaps you were kidnapped? He looks around, but what had left of you was an empty, lightless, disheveled room. Void of anything, like the feeling that started to creep into his mind.

“(Y/N)!” He screams, desperate for any signs of you. A little rustle, a hitch of a breath—anything. Please. He couldn’t do this without you, “Please, darling. Please don’t do this to me. Please.”

You swallow the bile that had risen to your throat. It’s pitiful that you’re a slave to his words, and that he’s a wreck without you. You watch as the ginger’s shoulder droop, a silent, choked plea leaving his form; the strong fatui warrior no longer existing, leaving a lonely shell only you recognize.

Do you love him?

The question hangs at the back of your mind. He needs you. But Childe doesn’t have the healthiest mind, and you know that better than anyone. Is it worth it to go through that suffering—to have him do whatever he thinks fit so he could ‘protect’ you—to have no control over your life? All of that, just to hold him in your hands? To calm him down, retelling the same words,

“I’m here, Ajax. I’m here. It’s okay. Everything is fine. Everything is fine.”

And you return yourself to the same cycle.

“(Y/n)?” He sniffs. Doe, teary cerulean eyes stare at you—they glimmer with hope, before a strong pair of arms hugs your form, “Don’t… don’t do this to me. I’ll.. go mad. I’ll go mad.”

But you already are, you silently repeat, you already are. You stroke the ginger’s head tenderly. It’s a cycle you can’t escape; a tunnel with no end.

A/N: Yes, i’m sorry for not posting lately. i am,, currently facing finals and all i can remember is thermodynamics formula (help). HOWEVER! i do have a lot of drafts so.. i’ll spoil you soon? 

if you’re curious, i do have a yandere childe series draft. i’ll publish it later <3

I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM😭😭

Please could you do a fluffy thirst of how the boys (togame, sakura, kaji, ume maybe suo) treat the reader after they’ve gone a round 🥲 like their afterglow ❤️

ANON. You and your brain!!!!!! Yoinking it out of your skull to kiss it. Thank you for the kind words! This got me flying off the hinges I worked on this so fast. Locked in, I fear. I hope you don't mind me adding Endo in. He's like a stray cat atp. Don't mind him.

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

suo. sakura. kaji. ume. kiryu. togame. endo.

"ever wondered how it'd be like to just lay there with him, naked both physically and emotionally. So bare and vulnerable, skin reddened and raw, bodies aching. But with both hearts so full, it's almost bursting at the seams? I got it."

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Sakura was written with his character development in the most recent chapter in mind! (SOBBING), some language (I'm not exactly the best person to trust with keeping things clean and straight yk), mentions of sex, mentions of cuuuuum, GN!Reader but let me know if I made any mistakes--I'll rectify dat rq (edited Sakura’s!! Tysvm anon!!! Dw you didn’t come across as rude, promise), FLUFF OOEY GOOEY FLUFF, endo???? BEING A PROPER CITIZEN??? LOVER EVEN??????, kinda NSFW? not too spicy but still--MDNI!

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

Your room's dimly lit by candlelight and the moonlight shining through the blinds. Wafts of incense and patchouli caress your senses while your beloved wipes you down with a warm towel. "Good enough for you, my dove?" he pauses as he's looking up at you and you're met with Suo looking at you as though you've hung the moon yourself. Leaning in for a lingering forehead kiss, he mutters into your scalp, "my god you're absolutely ethereal."

✦ your apartment transforms into something damn close to a spa. Suo's big on scents so he has the cool breeze flowing in, incense lit, scented candles gently perfuming the air. It's magical every time. ✦ goes without saying that he loves, loves, LOVES spoiling you. Worshipping you, even. You swear sometimes his lips would never leave your skin with how often he's placing kiss after kiss on your body. ✦ scalp massages! Suo's an absolute beast at it. You always wake up to your hair smelling of some of his essential oils. It's a whole selection and he doesn't like sticking to just one scent. Hell, your body feels so moisturized and plump once you wake up in the morning.

══════════════════ 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

"Yer so pretty," Sakura's voice is soft, gentle. A far cry from his harsh and rough tone. God. He's looking at you with such reverence you feel like you're gonna melt. Leaning towards you, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips. There it is. He's blushing again. "My baby’s so pretty."

✦ he's not blushing profusely anymore. Or at least, not as red as he normally is when he's around you. he's just laid there beside you, staring into your eyes with the softest expression on his face. Gratitude. Admiration. ✦ often spends most of the time staring at you like that so lovingly. So much so that you gotta remind him to wipe you down because god the cum's starting to make you feel uncomfortable with how cold it feels. ✦ is actually such a great cuddler. Especially after such a rough session. ESPECIALLY. Doesn't want to let you go the entire time.

══════════════════ 𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈.

"Let me clean you up," reaching beside you, your lover says with a slight groan as he grabs the tissues off to your side. Taking a few squares, he wipes you down wordlessly, the cautious speed ever evident. It's silent. Soothing. His other arm's never left your side, you notice. Gripping onto your hip ever so securely.

✦ not a huge talker after the fact. But he's quick to clean you up and attend to your needs. It's mostly just short, meaningful praises and reassurances with the both of you, basking in the afterglow. ✦ what he lacks in words, he makes up for in actions. He loves lavishing your body with kisses, caressing where you’re aching the most. ✦ Likes the silence since it's only with you where he doesn't need his headphones to put the world on mute, doesn't need a lollipop to censor his filthy, ruthless mouth. But of course, if it's assurance and praise you need, it's assurance and praise you'll get. His lips are devoid of sweets after all. Time for you to keep them busy.

══════════════════ 𝐔𝐌𝐄.

"Do you need anything else from me, baby? A massage? Some cuddles?" your lover asks you while he's wiping your inner thighs down clean from his cum that's been dribbling down them, always eager to cater to your needs at all times. Pressing a gentle kiss to the skin, he adds gently, "Whatever you need."

✦ way sweeter than he usually is with you. Which is saying a lot because your man's the absolute sweetest around you all the damn time! Presses kisses everywhere, whispers the most heart melting praise while he's hard at work soothing your body.... BIG SIGH. ✦ likes making you laugh even when your body's aching from him practically going all in on you. Says it's the best way to distract you from the pain. Still, he's massaging you if you'd like him to. Happy to oblige. ✦ ugh the ASSURANCE he gives you every time. The PRAISE?????? ALL GENUINE. ALL FROM THE HEART. It happens every time you're both still awake after the romp. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓.

══════════════════ 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐔.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin as he's trailing kisses down your spine, corners of his lips curled up into a gentle smile. You can feel it with each kiss he presses onto your skin. His skillful thumbs pressing soothing circles in your aching muscles, rubbing the soreness away. "How'd I get so lucky?"

✦ PRAISE IS THE ABSOLUTE NAME OF THE GAME.

✦ he's so good at massaging you omg the thought of paying him for it has crossed your mind a couple of times. You feel so guilty for being massaged and pampered this good FOR FREE. ALL THE TIME. ✦ likes talking you through everything, whispering assurances and checking in with you during the act and after. Never fails to make you feel like you're cherished. With Kiryu, you truly are. And more.

══════════════════ 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

"Need a massage?" he says as he's already flexing his hands, reaching over for the massage oil. Eyes so lovestruck as he gazes into your own, he coos at you gently, "Little reward yeah?" Pressing a gentle kiss right behind your ear, he whispers deeply, his voice ends with a slight grumble, "Did so good f'me, doll."

✦ Of course, always attentive to you. Slow with wiping you down but god is it soothing with how he's doing it so gently. Purring praises into it every time. If you're feeling peckish, no matter how tired he is, he's making something for you in the kitchen. ✦ can and would eat you out if you wanted him to help ride out your high again. Gentle with it again too since he knows how sensitive you are. Pretty easy to wrap into another round though. ✦ After all that, you both are out like lights as soon as your heads hit the pillow. He's got you close to him though, arms encasing you, breaths intertwined. Comfortable.

══════════════════ 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎.

"Fuck... ME," he says with a gentle chuckle, voice akin to a purr you can swear it rumbles, tone so honeyed and syrupy. Reaching over to your side of the bed, your lover cups a tattooed hand over your cheek, sliding his thumb over the apex of it ever so slowly. "You're gorgeous."

✦ Always, always at your beck and call. Need something? He's on it. Back aches from the diabolical backshots? He's already prepping your body with massaging oil. Need him to wipe the cum away? Of course he's on that shit ASAP (with his tongue). Would do whatever it is that you want him to do within a heartbeat. ✦ Often tries to get another round out of you. He genuinely, genuinely CANNOT get enough of you. Only if you're cool with him trying though. He's not gonna force things on you if you don't want it. ✦ lavishes you with so much love sometimes it's suffocating. It only ramps up in intensity after fucking. If you like them obsessively clingy, he's your man.

a/n: HOOOOOOO anon I hope this was alright!!!! These were all such fun to do oml. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THROUGH ALL THIS AHSDKHAKJSD more requests like these please!!!! aaaaa

Set My Heart Ablaze

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Creepy Matsukawa, Obsessive Behavior, Public Train Sex

Prompt: Chikan/Trains/Public Sex

Summary: Neither of you can deny the mutual spark of interest between the two of you, but Matsukawa takes the matter of turning that spark into a fire into his own hands. Only time will tell if that fire will provide you warmth and comfort or burn you alive.

A/N: This is my submission for the HQHQ NSFW Collab! Masterlist can be found here. Be sure to check everyone’s content once the masterlist goes live tomorrow night~

The train doors open and Matsukawa briefly glances up, smiling to himself as you step onboard, looking left and right for an open spot despite how you always end up in the same corner of the moving vehicle. He doesn’t know anything about you, not even your name. Yet he finds himself drawn to the normalcy you bring, the comfort of knowing you’re a clockwork fixture of his everyday life.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Matsukawa is just a man at the end of the day and he doesn’t deny that he took note of you long before you became so ingrained in his life. But it had been no more than a man observing an attractive woman and he doesn’t give you another passing thought as he returns to gazing out the train windows.

But working with death on a daily basis makes you look at life differently.

He prides himself on being a practical and level-headed man and despite the heavy nature of his profession, he never thought he’d get too bogged down by the environment, by the grimness of his business. Sure, maybe someone like Oikawa would freak out within hours, if not minutes, of being in a funeral home surrounded by corpses and coffins. But he’s not Oikawa (thank God for that). It’s just a job to help keep a roof over his head and food on the table.

But the longer he’s surrounded by caskets, the more grieving and sobbing families and friends he has to comfort yet professionally guide through catalogs and brochures and price tags, he can slowly but surely feel the weight of his daily work resting heavy on his shoulders, digging deeper into him with every corpse and tragic story he reluctantly becomes privy to. Matsukawa finds a new appreciation for life, for every tiny and minute detail, and suddenly you aren’t just another stranger who happens to share his train route.

You’re a reminder that he’s still alive, that despite the curveballs life throws at some, he’s still blessed to enjoy the routine and monotony of it. Life looks different, clearer, as he begins to really pay attention, appreciating every moment he has.

Maybe he’s paying too much attention. He doesn’t know when he begins to focus so intently on you, shocking himself with the realization that he’s observed you so closely when he nonchalantly notices that you’re using a different tote bag than your usual one. When did Matsukawa Issei become someone who notices the details of a woman’s outfit and accessories?

He knows it’s not right, knows even Hanamaki would crinkle his nose in distaste if he found out Matsukawa was creepily studying a random unknown female on a daily basis. But he can’t help himself, his realization only seeming to make him unconsciously focus on you even more. He notices what hand you use to hold your phone. He memorizes every expression you make as your mind drifts off, lulled by the machinery of the train.

But looking from afar only satisfies him for so long and he finds himself creeping closer to you, adjusting where he sits to be closer to your preferred corner of the train. He always tells himself just a little closer, but it’s never enough. And although he’s now standing right beside you, close enough to see every eyelash, every pore of your skin, it’s still not enough. He needs to hear your voice, feel your body against his, know everything about you inside and out.

He understands the irony of the situation he’s found himself in, reminiscing on how Hanamaki and him had gagged at how disgusting men could be as they watched older businessmen grope and grab at poor unwilling female passengers on their way to and from school. He knows how wrong it is, how like an uninspired porno this is, but when the train conveniently rattles, he jostles his body into yours, “accidentally” bumping into you.

Acting isn’t Matsukawa’s forte, but he thinks he damn well deserves an award for the performance he’s putting on as he profusely apologizes to you, hiding the groan of satisfaction he feels from the brief contact he’d had with you, from the way your attention is solely focused on him, from the way your voice seeps into his ears like the loveliest melody he’s ever heard. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, meaningless small and polite talk leaving his lips as his mind focuses on what’s more important, mentally recording every syllable and movement you make as you continue conversing with him. But whatever words are spilling out of him seem to be working and something hungry and possessive stirs in him when your face lights up as you board the train the next day, making a beeline towards where he stands as you cheerfully greet him.

Maybe it’s foolish of you to so easily trust and warm up to a complete stranger. But he’s tall, attractive, and interesting, which is more than you can say for most of the men you’ve met and your friends and family are always telling you to put yourself out there more. Is there really much of a difference between finding a random stranger on the countless dating apps you’ve installed versus connecting with one in person? You’d even argue that there’s something whimsically romantic about how the two of you met, even though you don’t know for sure if this is really going to lead to anything. But at the very least, your daily commute becomes more exciting.

You’re everything and more compared to what Matsukawa had imagined and if he thought he was infatuated with you before, he’s completely and utterly obsessed with you now. You’re all he can think of, all he can see in his mind’s eye, even hours after you’ve parted ways on your morning commute, even as he lays in bed in the middle of the night. And as his hand slips underneath the hem of his boxers, wrapping around his aching cock to his imaginations of what you’d look like writhing underneath him, how you’d sound moaning his name, he knows he needs to have you.

After all, as pretty as a meal can be, it’s ultimate purpose is to be devoured.

You giggle when the train shakes and you feel a long toned body shift into yours, squishing you against the wall you’re leaning against, sighing in bliss at how right, how good it feels to be in Matsukawa’s embrace even if it is just for a fleeting moment, a little accident all too common on jam packed trains. But your face heats when you continue feeling his warmth, when his body seems to press even further into you until you can feel the expanse of his body against yours, not even an inch of space left between you.

“Matsukawa-”

Your words are caught off by a gasp as Matsukawa buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, lips and tongue mouthing and licking the sensitive skin there. You’re confused, scared, and aroused, hands reaching up to clutch at the lapels of Matsukawa’s suit, unsure whether to hold him tight to you or push him away. And your humiliation only increases when a nearby elderly couple scowls at the two of you in disdain, clearly unamused by the scandalous gestures of what they believe to be a young couple in love.

Yet you can’t help how your heart beats faster, wondering if this is proof of Matsukawa’s attraction to you, wondering if your hidden feelings for him are returned. But this isn’t the time or place for that conversation and you fervently whisper in his ear, begging him to stop, telling him people are watching.

“Is that the only reason you want me to stop? Because people are watching?”

You grow flustered at the implied meaning of his words, shame filling you at how much you’re enjoying this, hating how your neck arches for more attention as he straightens up once more, his body hiding yours from view as he stands in front of you, still pinning you to the wall.

“Better be as still and quiet as you can, sweetheart.”

You don’t have time to register his words before your mouth opens in a pathetic whine as a calloused hand trails under the hem of your shirt, sliding across the stretch of your stomach, mapping your torso before finally shoving your bra above the swell of your breasts, kneading one of your mounds, tweaking and swirling around your hardening nipple. It feels so good and you almost succumb right then and there, lost in the predatory lustful gaze he pins you with.

But when the train makes its next stop, the conductor’s voice jars you from your trance and you clutch at Matsukawa’s forearm, silently pleading for him to stop with desperate eyes despite the way you quietly mewl when he just quirks an eyebrow and pinches your nipple in retaliation.

“We can’t- We shouldn’t-”

Your hand trembles, jaw going slack when he slides one thigh between your legs, digging his hard muscles into that already dripping hole only protected by the fabric of your pants.

“You’re not very convincing. How about we play a game? If you can tell me you don’t want this without moaning like a bitch in heat, I’ll stop.”

There’s no room for disagreement as he abruptly begins grinding his thigh into your aching cunt, flexing and relaxing his muscle in a pattern and rhythm you can’t keep up with. It takes every last bit of will power in you to not wantonly ride his leg and hump against him like the lewd slut he had just accused you of being.

“I don’t want-”

You cry out in agonized pleasure as his fingers still hovering near your breasts begin to roll your nipples between calloused tips, his thigh never losing its momentum. And under the dual points of attack, your resistance crumbles. Matsukawa’s eyes widen in awe as you bounce and roll your hips against his leg, hiding your face in his chest as you try to muffle the lewd sounds slipping past your lips in the fabric of his jacket.

You’re gorgeous like this, a needy, lustful mess. But as much as he loves to see you suffer so beautifully, there’s only so much time before your stop and he decides to have mercy on you, to reward you for being so honest, so good for him. Your face snaps up to stare at him with pupils blown wide as his hand reaches underneath the waistband of your pants and panties. He groans when his fingers are instantly soaked in your arousal, your panties sticky with your fluids and his digits slip inside of your tight wet heat with no resistance at all.

He wants nothing more than to push the pesky fabric out of the way and lay you bare for his viewing pleasure, to have easy access to thrust in and out of you. But he’ll save that for another day. Instead his fingers slip out of you, tips circling your swollen clit, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves as you resume humping his leg, body trembling, drool beginning to trickle from your lips as you frantically chase your end. And as the train stops once more, passengers trickling in and out, you silently scream, body convulsing as he brings you over the edge, pleasure washing over you and leaving you exhausted as you shiver and slump in his arms that are quick to embrace you and hold you steady as the train begins to move again.

You submissively let his fingers coated in your essence enter your mouth, obediently sucking and licking him clean, finding strange comfort in the action as you remain rested against him. But you keen in confusion, cheeks still hollowed as you mindlessly continue sucking while he guides one of your hands to the bulge in his pants.

But although Matsukawa is a man of few words, his desire is clear despite the silence and your face heats in embarrassment as he unbuttons his trousers, bringing your hand to the waistband of his boxers, dark eyes expectantly staring down at you. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Not when you can literally hear the other passengers surrounding the two of you, only Matsukawa’s tall frame hiding your illicit activity. But your body has a mind of its own and you greedily slip under the fabric barrier, moaning around his fingers at how large, hot, and heavy he is in your hands.

You hate how badly you want to see it, to feel it inside you, splitting you apart. Your pussy clenches, leaking in interest once again despite having just found blissful release mere minutes ago as your hands curiously trail up and down the shaft, trying to memorize how every bit of it feels against your skin, trying to visualize what it looks like. But you whimper as Matsukawa finally pulls his fingers free from your mouth, squeezing your jaw and giving you a warning look.

“Don’t tease me, doll.”

Your fingers wrap around the length and it’s your turn to stare up at Matsukawa with eyes full of hunger and awe as you watch his Adam’s apple swallow, as you feel a pleased groan reverberate in his chest with every stroke of your hand. Up and down. Up and down. Your hands are slick with pre-cum and you know it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear the lewd wet sounds of his sticky essence coating his shaft with every movement of your palm against the velvety skin. You’re so mesmerized, so lost in the experience that you startle when something hot and thick spurts onto your hand, mixing with his pre-cum, making an even bigger mess of his boxers and you.

You stare stunned at the hand you pull out from between his legs, gazing at the white and transparent fluids that coat your flesh. But before you can even think about wiping it off or scavenging around for a spare napkin or paper in your bag, a large hand grabs your wrist and brings your stained fingers to your mouth. You try to resist him, the spell he had you under broken now that the haze of lust isn’t blinding you. But his grip tightens until you wince and finally relent, stomach churning in disgust and shame as you tentatively lick at the bitter liquid.

He doesn’t release you, not until every last drop is coating the inside of your mouth, his taste heavy in your mouth, seemingly in every crevice of your orifice, your hand completely clean and void of your sinful interaction.

You want to hate him. You want to wipe the smug satisfied look clean off his face. But as you readjust your disheveled clothing, you’re reminded of your own body’s betrayal, your own carnal desire and pleasure, by the uncomfortable mess in between your legs. And all you can do is silently stand there and pretend that nothing has happened as Matsukawa nonchalantly tucks himself in and checks his phone.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as you wait for him to acknowledge what has just happened, only to be disappointed as he doesn’t even spare you another glance, too observed in the glowing screen in his hand. You wonder if this was just a one time thing, if he had been stringing you along all this time for one quick public tryst. And you hate the way that thought makes your chest hurt, hate how much you dislike the idea of never seeing him again, never talking to him again, never feeling and tasting him again.

But as the train pulls into his stop, your eyes widen when his face hovers by your ear, lips grazing your lobe as his voice melts into your soul.

“Wear a dress or skirt tomorrow. No panties or bra.”

He laughs as surprise turns into an endearing scowl that barely hides the apparent relief in your eyes and he just casually waves farewell as you send him on his way with a tirade of angry words about his fucking audacity. But it’s all empty heat and he chuckles at the self-conscious embarrassment written all over your face when he sees you the next morning, a pretty dress fluttering around your knees.

There’s no preamble, no pretense of what’s about to happen and he smirks in appreciation at the unobstructed feeling of skin against skin as he slips his hand under your skirt, not an inch of fabric covering the treasure at the apex of your thighs.

video games by lana del rey playing on an airplane 30/4/2013

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。WINTER — ITOSHI SAE.

you love that sae gets to play soccer, that he’s happy doing what he does best—that much is true. what you don’t love, however, is when he leaves to play soccer. you watch with sulky pouts and sullen expressions every time as he packs his bags for a game away, huffing as he takes that hoodie you like instead of leaving it for you.

i like that one, you’ll always say bitterly. it’s a different hoodie every time, and you know he knows you say that just to be whiny—but he never says as much, and a small part of you appreciates it.

you like all of them, he always says blankly, and then you sit and mourn that one hoodie you can’t have from him—even as he leaves you the rest of them at your disposal.

this time is no different. sae leaves the first day of winter, the frigid air kissing your skin as you shiver at the front door, standing with a pout on your face as he turns to you.

“see you in three weeks,” he says, an arm looping around you to give you a brief hug. you sniffle—and you feel silly, you feel like you must seem pathetic every time. it’s three weeks not three decades.

but the bed is colder without sae to keep you warm in the harshness of winter nights, and breakfast is lonely without someone to listen to you babble away, and tv is boring when you can’t share snacks and make fun of the poor choices of blandly written main characters.

you’re silly and a bit childish to cry like this every time—but you can’t help it. you’re happy that sae gets to play soccer, you just can’t ever get used when he’s away.

“i’ll miss you,” you croak, “don’t forget about me, okay? i’ll die.”

“so dramatic,” he rolls his eyes, but his voice is soft and his hand rubs those soothing circles into the small of your back, and you think maybe you’re not so annoying if he treats you so softly, so gentle and sweet even if it’s a bit stiff and blunt like him.

it’s cold—it’s dry and the wind is harsh and sae should really get going if he wants to make it to the airport on time, but you’re sniffling into his shoulder. perhaps there are more pressing things to worry about for now.

“are you gonna miss me too?” you ask, poking his shoulder a few times, “you will right? you’ll be so lonely without me right? so super sad?”

“you’re too much,” he grunts, but his grip tightens around you anyway—as if to say, yes. as if to say i’ll miss you every day, and i’ll keep missing you even when i’m back. “it’s three weeks,” he says flatly, “you’ll live.”

“what if i die? would you come back for my funeral even if you’d miss your game? you would right? don’t let them pick a bad picture of me.”

“i’ll pick the ugliest one i can find,” he grumbles, making you slap his shoulder with a gasp.

“i hope you get stuck sitting next to a crying baby on your flight,” you sulk.

“i’m stuck with a crying baby at home too,” he mutters, “what’s the difference?” you can almost feel him smile even if you can’t see it.

sae doesn’t smile too often—that’s what everyone else will say, anyway. you tell them differently though, that he smiles often, that he’s pretty and soft and innocent under the dim lights of your living room or the gentle rays of sun under the morning sheets. and it’s always small, the way his lips stretch—it’s barely noticeable and all too brief. but his muscles move before his brain thinks, and just a quick glance at you is enough to make his eyes soften and his mouth twitch.

itoshi sae leaves you alone at home on the first day of winter, and he realizes he falls in love with you a little more every season. he loves you through the gentle breeze of summer and the vibrant petals of spring, he sees pieces of you in the warm hues of autumn everywhere he goes—and when winter comes and the harsh chill settles under his bones, he realizes it’s your body he wants against his to ease the ache of the brittle cold.

“you’re rude.”

“i gotta go,” is all he says. “i’ll see you in three weeks?”

and he always does that—always asks if he’ll see you like he has to make sure you’ll be here, waiting with warm arms and a soft smile and those kind eyes of yours that he doesn’t deserve but can’t possibly forget.

“yeah,” you mumble softly, “yeah. see you in three weeks sae. be safe,” you mumble against his shoulder.

this is the hard part.

if you had to pick, the hardest part is where you let go—the part where your body screams for the heated press of his as it pulls away. it’s always easier for sae than it is for you, always simpler for him to reason it’s only three weeks and walk away. because he’ll come back—he always does, and you don’t think he’ll ever stop. but it’s the hardest part anyway, and you hate it. and you wish, selfishly deep down, that it’d be just a bit hard for him too.

“i’ll see you in three weeks,” he repeats again, as if to reassure you.

but this time, he still doesn’t let go. he doesn’t make a move to leave like usual. then it hits you all at once—you realize maybe it’s not just you he says it for, that maybe sae, under his blank stare and blunt words, doesn’t think it’s any easier than you do when he walks away.

so you nod slowly, “three weeks. shouldn’t be too bad,” you whisper.

“no,” he says quietly, “you’ll live.”

and then his arms squeeze you tighter, and his breath exhales slowly, and he presses a kiss to your forehead that can’t be anything other than stalling—and suddenly, you realize maybe it’s never been as easy for sae as you think it has.

“i’ll live,” you agree softly, “i’ll have to since i can’t let someone get away with picking an ugly picture for my funeral.”

he chuckles at that—it’s a sound he doesn’t really make that often, but somehow, it’s one that bleeds into every moment with you. so you turn your head and kiss his hair, squeeze around his waist and keep him warm outside your door as the cold wind of winter grazes your skin. 

“don’t die,” he says, “i’ll be back.”

“i won’t,” you giggle, “bye, baby. i love you. see you in three weeks.”

“yeah,” he hums. and finally, he pulls away. your body’s gone and so is your warmth, but sae’s not cold—doesn’t think he can be when his heart burns like that in his chest. “love you too,” he mumbles, flicking your forehead before he turns around and walks out the door, “and don’t forget to watch me win.”

idk i just think sae w a dramatic lover is a dynamic we need — aka me projecting LMAO.

itoshi sae does not exaggerate. he finds the whole idea of making a big deal out of nothing to be repulsive.

still, he swears that he feels physically ill whenever you’re not around.

(it’s the first reason of many he’ll ever give you when you tell him you have to leave for more than a day.)

“my head hurts.”

you don’t even look at him.

he frowns, “my head hurts a lot.”

“that’s too bad,” you say absentmindedly, “you should take some medicine for that.”

“i already did.” (he did not.) “it didn’t do anything.” (because he doesn’t need it.)

his frowns deepens when he notices you’re still focused on packing your things in a duffel bag. (his duffel bag. the one he was sure he’d hidden from you. the one you weren’t supposed to find.)

he calls out your name. his expression softens when you look at him.

“my stomach hurts.”

his lips quirk up just a tiny bit when you give him an annoyed look.

“sae.”

“my stomach really hurts.” he whines, slumping against the bed. a smile spreads through his lips when you cross your arms.

“you should take some medicine for that,” you frown, “even if you are sick, i have to go to this field trip.”

he takes out one of your shirts from the duffel bag, “says who?”

“my teacher.” you pry it off his hands, “my grade.”

you stick your tongue out at him, stuffing your shirt back into the bag, “my conscience.”

“but you’ll be gone for too long,” he sighs dramatically.

“it’s literally just two days.” you deadpan.

“like i said,” he pouts, “too long.”

you sigh, moving to sit down on the bed, “i’ll bring you a souvenir.”

a smile tugs at your lips when he perks up. you reach out to run your hand through his hair.

sae leans into your touch, “i’d rather have you stay than have a stupid souvenir.”

you hum, “wanna know a secret?”

he nods, curiosity swimming in his eyes. a small smile blooms on his lips.

“i kinda really don’t wanna go.” you mumble.

“just stay, then.” he tugs you closer to him.

you sigh, slumping against him. “i can’t. it’s worth a chunk of my grade.”

sae frowns, flicking your forehead, “just say you had a family emergency.”

“i said that last time.” you click your tongue. “i don’t think my teacher would believe that again.”

an amused laugh leaves his lips. “say you’re sick, then.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you tease, “besides i may or may not have already told my teacher i’d go.”

sae sits up, a look of disbelief on his face, “you what?”

“i already said i’d go,” you sheepishly smile at him.

sae flops back onto the bed, brows furrowed and pouting, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“you would’ve insisted you were sick to stop me from going,” you lean over him. “like you were doing a while ago.”

he looks away from you, flushing. “i don’t know what you mean.”

you smile, poking his nose, “i’m sure you don’t.”

he bites back a smile when you press a quick peck on his cheek.

“but if you were feeling sick, i know you’d go take some medicine instead of exaggerating just to get me to stay.”

he pouts. your smile widens. he tugs you down towards him, “you suck.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” you laugh.

you lay on his chest for a while, sae’s arms snug around you. he rests his cheek on top of your head.

“do you really have to go?”

“‘m afraid so,” you sigh, nuzzling into him. “i promise i’ll text you whenever i can.”

“you better,” he smiles, “you also have to call me.”

“i promise i will.” you laugh.

you squeak when he squeezes you, laughter leaving his lips.

“sae.” you mumble.

“yeah?”

you lift yourself off his chest, looking at him. “i have to finish packing.”

he groans, “finish later. you should nap with me instead.”

you playfully stick your tongue out at him. “you and i both know if i take a nap with you i’m never going to finish packing.”

he shrugs, sighing, “it was worth a shot.”

you sit up, brows raising in surprise when sae sits up after you.

“just because i’m not gonna nap doesn’t mean you can’t,” you tilt your head to the side.

sae stretches his arms up, yawning, “if i help you pack, you’ll take a nap with me sooner.”

he gingerly cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss. he hums against your lips.

“besides,” he pulls away, smiling, “if i help you pack, you’ll have to bring me back a souvenir as a reward.”

you laugh, “if you say so.”

sae’s not much help with packing. he just unceremoniously stuffs your remaining clothes into the duffel bag, scoffing when you tell him he’s doing it wrong.

(still, you bring him back a souvenir when you come home from your trip. as a way to both thank him for helping you pack, and as an apology because you’ll have to go on another trip soon.)

daddy’s fingers | suna rintaro

pairing: suna rintaro x reader

warnings: 18+ smut, heavy ddlg, praise, degradation, fingering

wc: 662

a/n: can u tell i’m having a daddy kink phase again lmao

“Don’t you dare look away. I want to see every reaction painted on your pretty little face while I fuck you. Now what do we say to Daddy?”

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early morning with sakura !

tags. fluff. sakura x gender neutral!reader

a/n. had a thought about sleepy sakura

as you were getting yourself ready for school, you couldn't help but gaze at your boyfriend who's sleeping comfortably on your bed. he looks so peaceful and soft wrapped in your blanket, opposite of what he is when he's awake.

you were going to stand up when you hear him stir awake, he looks at you with sleepy eyes.

“where are you going?” sakura asked, sounding like a whisper.

“to school, i have early morning duties.”

sakura grumbled then pulls you onto the bed with him,

“hey, let g-”

“please don't go yet,” sakura murmured, voice hoarse due to sleep, while pulling you closer to him. you smiled, thinking about how adorable he is in the morning.

you softly sighed, “ fine, but just a few minutes, 'kay?” wrapping your arms around him and kissing his forehead, he then wraps his arms around your torso and his legs around yours and hummed.

you might be late for school but at least you got to see how cute your boyfriend is. <3

streets

pairing: hajime iwaizumi x reader

genre: smut

warnings: 18+ nsfw, mentions of alcohol consumption, oral (male receiving), choking, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink, slight praise kink

summary: you give your boyfriend top at the red light

you sigh as you climb into the passenger seat of the car, your body feeling heavy because of how tired you were. as you settle into the seat you hear the door of the driver’s side opening. your head lolling to the side, you see your boyfriend. you catch iwaizumi’s eyes and with a small smile he leans forward pecking your lips.

after pulling back, he begins to put his seat belt on and breaks the comfortable silence, “i hope tonight wasn’t too much. i know you don’t really like parties.”

oikawa had thrown a little new year’s kickback as a celebration of not only the new year but him finally being back in japan. he had invited a majority of the seijoh boys and of course iwaizumi. being oikawa’s closest friend, iwaizumi knew he had to show up or else oikawa would whine about it for the months to come. truth be told, hajime was looking forward to spending his new year with you cuddled on the couch while some random countdown special played in the background. clearly that wasn’t the case. the both of you had went and hajime had made it known that he didn’t feel like drinking tonight but he had no issue if you wanted to. you had decided not to drink too much because you didn’t want your boyfriend to ring in the new year by holding your hair up while you threw your guts up in the toilet. although, you knew that if that were to happen he would have no problem with it. a couple beers and a shot or two later, you and hajime decided to take your leave early in hopes that you two could make it home before the clock hit 12:00.

leaning your head back against the headrest you close your eyes and smile, “no, it’s okay. i had a lot of fun. nothing beats seeing makki and mattsun doing drunk karaoke.”

hajime begins to reverse the car, placing his hand on the back of your headrest as he looks back. he shakes his head, “yeah but hearing that shit is awful, i almost went deaf.”

he looks at you briefly before directing his attention to the road in front of him, “are you okay though? you need me to pick up anything?”

you were always able to handle your liquor fairly well so you don’t feel anything more than a slight buzz. you open your eyes to look at your boyfriend, slight smile still on your face, “i’m okay, just wanna be home.”

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