aphrodites-playroom

[aphrodites-playroom]

"You're going."

"No." The glower you give Kenma would have been cause for dismissal by any other boss but he remains unphased.

"Yes. Kuroo said they need a representative from our company."

"So? You go if it's that important!" you snap but already know his response. "Or send literally anyone else if you don't want to go!"

Kenma smirks as you rant.

"Half of the people in this office would kill to go to the JVA gala! I work in the legal department for a video game company. Why on earth do you think I am the right choice for this!?"

Kenma shrugs where he leans in your doorway. "You won't make any overreaching statements or set inaccurate expectations for the company."

"Ohh yeahh, why send someone who could make beneficial connections for the company," you gripe. "Just tell me the real reason you're sending me Kozume."

"Kuroo wants to see you."

"He stops by every chance he gets," you retort.

"I like to make you miserable."

You gesture to the packet of documents he delivered at the start of this conversation. "Next."

"I just don't want to go?" He lays down the final line before you can reply "listen, I rarely flex the boss card but I'm pulling it out. You're going. You can work from home all next week. Deal?"

You grimace sourly. "That was a cheap shot and you know it."

He smirks, knowing you hate large social events as much as he does. "Have fun."

As much as Kenma knows you, you know him. You helped him establish Bouncing Ball; you've been here since the beginning.

You know there's something else going on and it's irritating that he won't just come out and say it.

The night of the gala, dressed in your formal attire, Kuroo greets you with his usual sly grin and you exchange friendly fire before he points you in the direction of your assigned seat.

You make a mental note to berate Kenma after this.

Because this year? The JVA--aka Kuroo--decided it was clever to mix sponsors among the professional athletes which is how you find yourself walking toward a table to sit with a team called the MSBY Jackals.

The whole event is overwhelming. All you want is to settle down in a seat and daydream ways to get under your boss's skin but the universe has other plans.

The moment you pull out a chair someone leans into your field of vision.

"Hi! Sorry, this seat is saved for the-"

"Bouncing Ball Corporation," you say curtly. "I'm the re-"

You had looked up, a response coiled and ready to snap at the meddling stranger but the heat whooshes out of you as you meet the warmest brown gaze you've ever seen.

With a blinding smile and bright orange hair to match.

A different kind of heat starts to creep back up your chest.

"You work with Kenma-san?! I played volleyball with him in highschool! I'm Hinata Shōyo!"

You manage to introduce yourself, a mumble in return as he slides into the seat next to you.

It's alarming how effortlessly conversation blooms with him. Before you know it, he's introducing you to the other people taking seats at the table seamlessly drawing you in.

It's hard to look away from the living sunshine.

Against all odds you stay the whole evening, cheeks hurting from reluctant smiling and unfamiliar laughter at the banter between him and his teammates. You even dare to thank him at the end, telling him you had a great time.

There's a dimness that falls over the world after that.

Not that the world shined much for you to begin with but after an enchanting evening like the gala life seems particularly lackluster.

And Kenma notices.

"Had that horrible of a time?" he remarks, leaning into your office Monday morning. "Wanted to make me see how miserable you are?"

Your typing slows; you're unable to look up from the laptop. "No... actually."

When you don't offer anything else he steps in and cautiously approaches your desk. "What do you mean?"

"I had a wonderful time," you admit. "I met your old friend, Hinata-san." When he doesn't say anything you add "that's why you wanted me to go, wasn't it?"

You slowly shake your head in his continued, guilty silence. "Kozume, of all the things you've done just to antagonize me--"

"I wasn't trying to antagonize you," he earnestly interjects. "I was curious how you were going to respond to him."

Finally you look at him but it's not the invigorated look for which he was hoping;

It's defeated.

"How do you think I was going to respond to him?" You look more downcast than he's ever seen. "He's amazing Kozume. He took my breath away with one smile and I bet he left you as altered the first time you met him, too. Didn't he?"

Kenma nods feeling oddly humbled.

"Yeah. Well, thanks for adding me to what I'm sure is the very long list of admirers he has."

"He's not like that," Kenma tries to cut in. "He's not-"

"A player? Undoubtedly. He's a fucking ray of sunshine; it doesn't take a genius to know he's not a player!" Your voice lacks the usual bite. "I imagine there's no one in the world who walks away from that wonderful man unchanged but think about it, Kozume, if he is like the sun then I'm...I'm...like a goddamned black hole!

"All I've felt since I met him was the vast inadequacy between us. How could someone so wonderful like him walk away feeling anything remotely reciprocal to what I felt. What I still feel!"

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know your voice is carrying through the office; it's far quieter than usual and you know you're going to regret this but the words are flowing and you can't stop them.

"I've thought of nothing else except his stupid smile all weekend so I figured why stay home! Why not come into the office so you can bask in the results of your strange social experiment, Kozume!" You open your arms in a sardonic display. "Are you happy now? Have you accomplished whatever it was your were trying to do?!"

For once your boss has nothing to say.

"Forgive my attitude Kenma, but I have a lot of work to get done so," you angrily gesture to the door behind him no longer able to look at him, "if you could please leave."

Kenma walks back to his office unsettled by everything that just happened, lost in thought.

If you would believe him he'd tell you that he wanted you to go, not so you could meet Hinata but so Hinata could meet you.

The man himself texts Kenma when he gets back to his office.

Kenma's heart lurches when the redhead asks for your number, gushing that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you either.

He didn't intend for the two of you to hit it off.

Feeling responsible for the way you're feeling, Kenma sends it along.

His chest hollows out.

He sends you a text, too, telling you what just happened and, though you don't respond yet, he hopes this is enough to help you see how amazing you really are.

Because it's how he sees you.

He didn't want to set you up with Hinata.

He was trying to get his old friend's unbiased opinion of you, and vice-versa,

before he confessed.

[aphrodites-playroom]

Pairing : Meian Shugo x Reader

Summary : big balled Meian brainrot 😂😂

Warnings : mature content, mature language, MDNI, Meian brainrot , this is what I think mornings on the weekends with Meian would be like 😂 leave me alone, masturbation, balls sucking, cumshot, cum on face , cum eating.

Tags - @luffysthickwaifu @festive @rinhoes @dejwrites @gabzlovesu @imperatorkhaleesi @shoutaswhore @miwaizumi @mizumikira @cherrykamado @ry0m3n @try99 @littlemochi @hhawkz @apollostears @haikyutiehoe @indiecursor @bookwormsenpai

You were never a morning person. Meian knew that. You would whine and beg for a few extra minutes not even bothering notice the hint of neediness that you loved oh so much, in his voice. So he started taking care of his morning "problems" on his own. With that said, you weren’t surprised at the scene in the living room.

Leaning on the doorframe you watched Meian. Slouched down on the couch, eyes shut, and shirt tucked into his mouth whimpering. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched his large hand sliding up and down his length.

Pretty pink tip just oozing with precum. He cracks an eye open and waves you over. Cunt throbbing as you lightly pad over to him kneeling in between his legs.

You watch closely; the way he furrows his brows, how tight he was gripping his dick as he teases himself with fast and slow strokes, his deep yet desperate whimpers. You wanted to help.

You lightly cup hips balls making him tense, massaging lightly until he relaxes the muscles of his thighs. He watches you, never faltering in his strokes, confusion slightly spread over his face.

You stare up at him while leaning in to lick his balls. The shit falls from his mouth and he smiles at you. “Good morning nasty girl”

“Morning daddy” you say sucking off his halls with a pop. “I see you were having fun without me”

“I just didn’t want to wake you” he says biting his lip. “But since you’re up, stay right there”

You nod and lick from his balls up to his dick. He let go and watched as you licked up to the tip and back down to his balls sucking both into your mouth.

Wrapping his hand back around himself, he strokes at a steady pace while you swirl your tongue over his balls in your mouth. You feel his balls tighten, and you suck off with a pop. Sticking your tongue out as you wait.

He chuckles lowly before a pussy throbbing moan slips from his lips. Cum shoots out and you get excited and turned on as spirts landing on your face and your tongue, the rest dripping down his length to the base.

“You look beautiful” he says breathlessly.

“So do you” you wink, licking up the cum that dripping down to his balls. Licking your way up to his tip, slowly wrapping your plump lips around it, and sinking down as far as you can get him in your throat.

“Alright enough, please” he whines trying to pull you off from sucking him dry. He can overstimulate you but can’t take it himself.

“Fine” you pout whipping the saliva from the sides of your mouth. Standing to your feet you flop down onto the couch next to him. Throwing one leg over his and spread yourself wide. “Come get your breakfast”

“Don’t mind if I do”

—-

Thicksimpx© 2022. Do not copy, claim, modify or translate my work without my permission. thanks 😘

[aphrodites-playroom]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟑 — 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

✦ kinktober day 13 — thigh riding feat. dottore : xiao : childe : kazuha x fem! reader | kinktober masterlist.

✦ warnings: nsfw

✦ 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄

dottore's face was brightening up upon smiling, running his rough hands over your thighs before drawing you closer against his body. He could get quite lost in all the research, forgetting most things around him if it wasn't for you who always made sure that all his needs and cravings were fulfilled to the highest extent.

you looked at him, combing the loose strands— which were messily hanging around his head, behind his ear before slightly trying to grind your hips into the obvious bulge forming in his pants. His grip was hard on you, yet once dottore figured you were trying to put his mind onto other things, more so turn his attention to you, he quickly began to loosen his hold on you, letting you continue your play.

his eyes were set on you the whole time whereas the air continuously warmed up around your skin. You're turning your gaze between your bodies, your clothed cunt rubbing hard against his throbbing bulge when dottore suddenly took a hold of your face, cupping your cheek to force you to look at him. His wicked grin made a shiver run down your spine, you didn't dare to say anything, for a second stilling your movements, "i didn't tell you to stop, did i?" dottore's voice was deep, murmuring against your lips as you nodded in response, carrying on.

✦ 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

you leaned over to kiss xiao's cheek while straddling him. The bedsheets were comfortable underneath the both of you, only adding to the relaxing aura which surrounded you that night. Xiao's breathing was coming in spurts, uneven and somehow anxious. Your hand never left his, intertwining your fingers into one another as you lightly grinded yourself against him.

"I like this." he rasped at you, without a single restraint, removing his hands from their previous position to dig them into your soft skin, helping you move. You let out a small giggle, being completely lost in the pure bliss you felt, not only on your aching core but the amount of intimacy which radiated through the room. Xiao's body was hot against yours, a layer of sweat coating his figure as the both of you melted into each other.

It was getting too much for him, xiao was barely able to control his own body as he thrusted his hips up, dragging you back and forth his aching cock. You're gasping at the sudden change, just a minute ago it seemed as if you were in control when in reality it was him and him alone. You reached over to him, closing the distance between the both of you to engage into a sloppy kiss as you whined at the feeling of his cock teasing your cunt, both smiling at each other and communicating without actually saying a single word.

✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

you could feel childe slide his fingers into your shirt, running them over your exposed back as you arched your body into him, whining at his cold digits. "you're so sensitive here." he's obviously teasing you again, that damned smile never leaving his face. "come here." his voice was deep, commanding, as if you weren't able to reject his offer.

you're straddling his lap, wiggling your hips a bit to make yourself a bit more comfortable as you heard ajax whine from those featherlight touches. He's advancing closer, trailing open mouthed kisses on your neck before holding your hips down to his exposed member, rubbing it against your clothed cunt. Your panties were damp, an obvious splotch viewable. You knew ajax, he'd never pass up on an offer like this, immediately dragging his digits over the wet stain, holding it in front of your face.

"oh my, what is this?" you're slapping his hand away in annoyance, rolling your eyes. Although in an attempt to move away he quickly wrapped his arms around your hips, pouting, "it's a joke, love, please stay." if it wasn't for his immense charming persona, you would've tried harder, his fingers dipping down into the soft flesh of your hips to drag you back and forth his aching groin, the tiny whimpers you exclaimed mixed with your heavy pants were music to his ears.

✦ 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

kazuha was turning into an utter mess, dropping his mouth down to your breasts to take one of your nipples in between his lips, pressing them together. You're crying out, the ache in between your legs continuing to grow as you could feel yourself become wetter. You weren't able to withstand the urge anymore, beginning to rut yourself into his groin, basically using him for your own pleasure.

he's smirking, kazuha secretly adored whenever you showed him just how much you wanted it, just how much you wanted him. He released your breast, "tell me what you want." he murmured, taking your lips in his to kiss you passionately. "I want you." you're whining, wiggling against his hold and rubbing yourself further into his throbbing cock. "You have me." kazuha pulled a hand from your hips to cup your cheek, kissing you once again while rolling his hips up to meet your sobbing cunt.

It didn't bother him that you somehow managed to stain his pants with your slick, the wave of ecstasy he just experienced was turning his mind into a swirling haze. You're throwing your head back at the sight, feeling how his cock was throbbing against your cunt with a dire need to cum. Your pace was increasing now, kazuha was always so good to you and you wanted to please him so much, practically craving it! with that showing him how much you valued and adored him.

kinktober masterlist.

do not! share, copy or repost my work. ✎ ©ANANTARU 2022

[aphrodites-playroom]

WATCH ME — SANO MANJIRO & SANZU HARUCHIYO

manjiro notices the way his second in command looks at you. but he doesn’t mind showing you off what’s his.

♱ warnings — vouyerism, threesome [vaguely], f!reader, bonten timeline, sanzu finishes in his pants, creampies, if you’ve seen me write smth similar before ur so right. ꒰ word count : 2.5k ! ꒱

♱ note — next fic ! next fic ! i hope u guys enjoy <3

RETURN TO KINKTOBER MLIST ♱ REGULAR MLIST

it wasn’t unlike manjiro to call you into his office, letting the heavy wooden door close behind you when you’re met with one of his more softer looks, his usual uniform jacket lying discarded in the corner of the room.

you hear him sigh before he rests back against his heavy seat at the desk, watching his thighs move underneath the fabric of his pants when he spreads them enough to give you more room to climb on to straddle his lap.

you could always tell he’d had a long day with the shift in his expression—but it would easily melt into something gentler, more relax whenever he felt your skin press against his, leaving his executives to pick up the rest of his responsibilities so he could unwind with you instead.

manjiro was a beautiful man, gorgeously unhinged but impulsive and intimidating, he’d made a name for himself with the gangs he’d ruled when he was younger, the invincible mikey was a name that people had come to fear in tokyo, but not you.

he was a skilled fighter and a respected leader, years of vigorous fighting evident in his techniques and battle strategy, he was always draped in his uniform jacket— hanging oversized, loosely over his shoulders, dark eyes and an almost sinister, blank but equally intimidating look that was framed by platinum hair.

but your visits to maniiro’s office always ended up the same way, your tits pressing tightly against his chest as he kisses you lazily, drinking up your moans and pushing his name between your lips, and you feel him sound out a sigh of content into the kiss when you find yourself rolling your hips against his.

your skin feels hot where he touches you, and you’re too focused on the needy push and pull of his hands to hear the three sharp knocks on the door behind you, but the blonde below you does and he grumbles under his breath, bunching up your dress at the hips when he hears the click of the door handle a few seconds later.

“mikey, you called for me? i can come back.” the low, smooth tone snaps you from your daze when you realise it didn’t come from your boyfriend, and suddenly you feel even warmer under your dress when you look back over your shoulder to see sanzu’s daunting, brooding figure standing straight at the door as you watch him fiddle with his watch, the jewellery doing wonders to compliment his brighter, pastel suit while his bangs fall messy, but delicately along his forehead.

sanzu was unpredictable but he was also manjiro’s most trusted man— second in command and someone people had come to fear given his track record. he was impulsive, sometimes a little psychotic and unhinged but unwaveringly loyal, thorough and always finished a job —especially when it came to traitors — good traits to have in their line of work and someone who’d been beside your boyfriend before he’d even met you.

but manjiro had noticed that sanzu, had taken a liking to you. he’d see the way his friend’s jaw would clench every time you leaned in to hear him better during the meetings you were allowed to sit in at, the slight shade of pink his cheeks would take when you brushed past him during a meeting, or the way the usual crease in his brows would soften whenever you entered the room.

he was perceptive, this kind of life made him that way, but it also made him possessive.

you’re staring, wide eyed and suddenly self conscious at your more than compromising position as you quickly try to stand up from manjiro’s lap, only for the blonde to pull you back down wordlessly when you turn away from him.

your back falls against his chest with a gasp as the clinging fabric of your dress rises up your thighs, and the sound has sanzu’s bright gaze finally locking with yours from where hes rooted at the door. his brow arches ever so slightly as he bites on the inside of his scarred cheek, clearing his throat when he watches his hands begin to wander your sides before he turns to leave. “call me when you’re done.”

“i didn’t say you could leave, sanzu. i called you here, didn’t i.” manjiro hums, a more commanding undertone to his voice in place of his usual bored tone as one of his arms tighten around your waist, exuding the kind of dominance he was known for as his breath fans along the dip of your shoulder.

he hooks your legs over his thighs, prying them apart until you’re left embarrassingly displayed for the blush haired male who’s currently trying his best not to stare, swallowing roughly.

“she’s pretty, isn’t she?” manjiro sighs, smearing a few kisses against the skin of your neck while his hands explore the dips of your body and you cant help but breathe deep at the touch.

“manjiro, w-what are you doing?” you hiss, batting away his hands when he grabs a slow, languid handful of your breast, leaning forward to meet your confused gaze over your shoulder. “i thought you were going to take care of me. you like sanzu, right? you’re friends.” his tone is softer when he talks to you, but he emphasises his last words deliberately as his arm around your waist squeezes tightly.

but the touch feels comforting and sturdy—reminding you that you still have a choice here when he sends you a whisper of a smile. like a gentle reminder of the promise he’d made to protect you when you got together.

it doesn’t take long for you to melt into manjiro’s chest once more and he hums, low and needy before placing another kiss against your cheek.

the air feels thick in the suddenly stuffy office when your head turns to face sanzu once more, licking your lips as you watch his chest expand behind the tight fabric of his shirt and waistcoat as he inhales shakily.

his face is flushed, although you can tell he’s holding himself back despite the way his bright eyes drop when he watches your boyfriend slowly drag down the front of your dress, the straps falling down your arms as manjiro carefully tucks the fabric under your breasts.

you shiver at the feeling of his eyes on you, his blown out gaze meeting yours from beneath his blushy, messy bangs and you feel something pleasant burn in your stomach when manjiro rolls his hips into yours with a hiss. “she likes when you touch here.” the blonde grumbles, one of his palms coming up to cup one of your breasts while the other smoothes it’s way along your inner thigh, leaving featherlight touches dangerously close to your heat and you know the nature of his touch is deliberate.

manjiro closes his palm around the flesh of your tit, squeezing softly before he pulls back to swipe his thumb over the firm, sensitive flesh of your nipple and you mewl, arching into him when its followed by a hard press on your clit through your panties.

“m-manjiro.” you breathe, your voice dreamy and whispery when it cracks with need and you almost hear a whimper slip from sanzu’s scarred lips at the sound, hearing a few careful footsteps after as he comes closer, allowing himself to take in more of your blissful expression while trying to ignore the dark look his boss is sending him behind you.

“she’s sensitive too, aren’t you?” manjiro groans and you dont know if its the extra pair of eyes on you that seems to only heighten your pleasure or the quick, purposeful circles your boyfriend is tracing around clit but a ragged sound leaves your throat when the blonde catches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching at the pebbled bud until you’re almost hunching forward, his arm being the only thing keeping you pressed against his chest until he abruptly pulls away.

your mouth is dropped open with heavy breaths while your chest heaves, but before you can get your thoughts together you feel manjiro move under you slightly, tucking his fingers under the waistband of your panties before he’s pushing them to the side.

sanzu swallows, fighting the grin that threatens to break on his lips, he’s shuffling uncomfortably at how tight his cock suddenly feels at the sight of your puffy, slick folds—feeling it leak behind the fabric of his slacks as he watches your hips lift slightly. he’s paying no attention to the sound of manjiro pushing down his own pants before his cock rests against the inside of your thigh, and he’s letting you rest back down on his hips with a long exhale.

manjiro grabs his cock at the base from behind you, tapping the blunt head against your clit and you whimper at the sharp jolts of pleasure it sends through your system, feeling him slowly rest his forehead against your shoulder before he begins to sink into your sloppy cunt. you press your body deeper into his, trying not to let your eyes roll into the back of your head at the blissful stretch as sanzu watches you hungrily.

“fuck—you’re always so..mmm, so tight” manjiro breathes, a trembling undercurrent to his voice and your words feel clumsy when you choke on his name, his hips rolling languidly into yours and your body twitches when your feel him glide past your sweet spot, finally bottoming out with a hiss as your pussy clenches hard around him.

his fingers grope almost a little too hard into your hips before he leans back, sinking underneath you more so you can spread yourself wider against him, leaving you on display for the flushed, bright haired male so he can see the way you’re trembling and flexing around your boyfriends fat cock in anticipation.

your toes curl and relax at how deep manjiro reaches, feeling his cock twitch against the needy pull of your cunt at the first bounce of his hips against yours, your hands grabbing at the flesh of his thighs beneath you as he begins a pace that has your body bouncing to meet it.

“o-oh, fuck. does it feel good?” manjiro hums, your pussy squeezing down on him, desperately trying to keep him plugged inside you as he mumbles something affirming under his breath. you gasp, the room dizzy beneath you as you blink up at sanzu, his eyes locked intensely on your cunt as the blonde behind you sinks back into your slick walls, each thrust making the room spin and your breathing come quickly as he fucks up into you.

his fingers dig bruises into your hips, his head falling over the back rest of the thankfully sturdy chair you’re both seated on as your pussy squelches, wet and messy as your slick drips down onto his thighs and his cock thickens as he grunts wordlessly, losing himself in each needy flex of your cunt while you babble mindlessly against him.

“manjiro, wanna cum.” you mumble, your eyes fluttering shut in bliss and manjiro hums in reply, letting his head fall forward to focus his heavy eyes on the male infront of him with a dark look, snapping sanzu from his lewd haze when he speaks.

“didnt you hear her, sanzu? she says she wants to cum.” manjiro breathes and although his tone is breathless, sanzu knows its more of a command when his dark gaze meets his own.

he swallows heavily before he lets himself grin, taking an almost hesitant step forward as he admires you, a slight tremble of want to his fingers when his arm outstretches and he feels his cock throb uncomfortably in his pants when he meets your lustful gaze.

“haruchiyo, you—you dont have to.” you whimper and manjiro cuts you off with a particularly sharp thrust before he speaks. “but he wants to, he can’t keep his eyes off of you anyway. you’re too pretty.” sanzu’s palm rests against your thigh and you whine, letting your head rest against your boyfriends shoulder when you feel his unfamiliar, slender fingers trace their way along your skin.

“is this okay?” the pink haired male asks, watching closely until you’re babbling out a yes with a drowsy nod before your mouth drops open to moan at the first swipe of his fingers along your clit. “hnghh—fuck, she liked that, do it again.”

manjiro whimpers when you clench tight around him, cursing breathlessly as his pace stutters, and his hold on one of your hips slackens just enough to have your body jolting, your thigh dragging along the bulge in sanzu’s slacks given how close he is to you both now, pulling a groan from the man beside you as his hips instinctively twitch to grind himself against the skin.

“haru! p-please—“ you cry, feeling him drag the rough pad of his finger beneath the hood of your clit as the blonde beneath you repositions his feet, taking a pace that’s a little rougher as he chases both your orgasms, making your tits jiggle with each bounce of his hips.

“you do look real pretty, angel. do you like that?” he asks at the dreamy drawl of his name, a sound he’d really only dreamed of — never expecting to actually hear it, you were mikey’s after all.

so sanzu’s ministrations on your clit only speed up at the sound of his name falling from your lips, the breathless tone causing his hips to roll against your thigh once more and he’s so focused on the blissful expression on your face he doesn’t even realise how close he is until his legs are almost crumbling underneath him, the fabric of his briefs suddenly becoming stickier as he chokes back a low growl.

"let him see how pretty you look when you cum. mmm, you’re close right?” manjiro breathes, low and growly against your shoulder and you’re more than eager to follow his command “fuck, manjiro—” your body crumbling in his hold as sanzu continues to messily roll your clit, the blissful feeling of your orgasm rushing through your veins.

you feel your boyfriend’s hips stutter and twitch underneath you at the greedy coax of your pussy before he spills inside of you, smiling softly at the sound of his name on your lips before he bites down on the smooth skin of your neck, allowing your flexing walls to milk him as he fucks his creamy load into your sensitive cunt, his hips slowing while he mumbles praises into the crook of your neck.

the hold on your skin suddenly relaxes as you whine at the sudden ache when he lets you relax, feeling manjiro’s arms slide around your waist instead as he hugs you closer, encouraging you to curl into his chest and the familiar warmth is pleasant.

sanzu awkwardly stumbles back, clearing his throat and chewing on his bottom lip, suddenly not being able to meet either of your eyes while his heart thuds in his chest. but he cant avoid his bosses look when he narrows his eyes at him.

“mikey—“ sanzu starts but the blonde above you cuts him off with a long exhale as he traces his fingers along your skin soothingly. “you should know i don’t usually share what’s mine. i’d let you feel her next time, but i think she’s fine with this." he drawls, sending him another dark look when you nuzzle deeper into his chest.

“you can leave now. clean yourself up, sanzu.”

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

[aphrodites-playroom]

SLEEP TALK — KAEYA ALBERICH.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ kaeya + somnophilia - you decide to help kaeya in his sleep a little

♱ kinktober ⋮ find the masterlist here !!

♱ length ⋮ 1.4k words

♱ contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, somnophilia, dubious consent, dry humping, handjobs, unprotected sex (no prep), creampie, pet names (princess)

♱ notes ⋮ genshin has ruined my life i think.

you hear him before you feel him.

kaeya’s body rolls over to find yours in his sleep, the soft melody of his voice ringing in your ears in what you’re sure is a groan. at first, you’re worried it’s a nightmare—he’s prone to those sometimes, as much as he hides it.

but this is different. no, this has an air of neediness in his voice that you think you’d recognize anywhere. and then he presses against your back, the heat of his crotch finding your ass as he grinds his hips for friction. he’s still asleep, you realize, still slipped blissfully into unconsciousness as he lets out a quiet moan this time. it’s against the skin of your neck, making you’s shiver as you feel him press himself up against you.

“you,” you roll your eyes, “are simply too much.” it’s almost like he can hear you because there’s a low whine ripped from his lips as his breath comes out in soft pants. whatever he must be dreaming of, it must be good—especially if he calls out your name like that in a breathy cry.

it makes a small grin of satisfaction tug onto your face—even in slumber, he’s still entirely yours.

“m-more,” he mumbles in his sleep, hips rutting against you in desperate search of your familiar tightness, like the dissonance between his dreams and his reality are just a touch too tangible. you think you might just have to do something about it, turning slowly to face him.

he’s pretty—always has been, always making the breath catch in your throat as the contrast of tanned skin and blue hair fall along your gaze. he’s always been soft, cool lips and rough, warm hands against your own, always given too much and yet, not enough of himself all at once.

so you trail feather light kisses along his jaw, let your hand slowly wander down south to where he needs you as you enjoy the moment of full control with kaeya for once.

“sound so pretty,” you hum when he rasps a surprised grunt as your hand wraps around his hardened cock, “too bad you can’t hear yourself right now. you always love hearing yourself talk,” you snicker.

there’s affection in your words, deep and raw and soaked in devotion. love makes you dip knives with honey, you think, the sweetness dripping between the sliced skin, the pleasure mingling with the pain you know is soon to come.

your hand pumps his girth a few times, thumb swiping along the tip to collect the beads of leaking pre cum. he shudders, breathes out a whimper as you smear the wetness along his length and stroke him slowly. his hips buck, rolling up and into your fist as he chases the sweet pleasure you grant him, mirroring what he must be living in his fantasies.

“f-fuck,” he curses in a whispered moan, “ngh—‘s good.”

you can see the small cracks of his consciousness slip through, the way his hands fist the sheets, the way his nose crinkles and his mouth parts, the way his voice seems to get louder with every groan that sings from gus throat. and then his eyes blink open, slowly adjusting to the dark of the room while he gathers his surroundings.

he lets himself fall completely into your hands, arm falling limply over his eyes as he groans and fucks his fist up into your hand.

“my, princess,” he grins through labored pants, “rather impatient of you, don’t you think? have you fallen for my charms so—”

“always so talkative,” you scoff, “maybe you’re impatient—at least wake me up in the morning if you need it so badly.”

he has the audacity to chuckle before biting his lip as his eyes flutter shit when your thumb glides over his slit, squeezing your fist around his tip before your stroking down his length. the room is filled with the sound of his quick pants and the squelch of his cock fucking your fist, your hand slapping against his pelvis with each downstroke.

he close, you can tell—but then he stops you with a tight grip on your wrist and a strained groan as his jaw tightens from his impending orgasm dying down.

“what are you—” you don’t get a chance to finish before he’s rolling over you, swollen lips from biting pressing against yours in a hungry kiss. his hands roam along your body, tugging off the articles of clothing in his way as he moans into your mouth.

when the blunt head of his cock taps against your clit, his hips rolling softly for featherlight friction along your dripping entrance, your head falls against the plush of the pillow as you gift him with a whine.

“oh? would you look at that, you’re dripping,” he hums, “already so perfect and wet for me, don’t you think?”

“no teasing,” you huff, “i didn’t tease you.”

he chuckles, pressing a delicate kiss to your jaw before letting his head fall to your neck as he slowly pushes past your folds, splitting you open with his cock as he drags along your walls with his veins. he thick—angles into you to nudge against the spongy spot that makes you gasp, hands moving to cup the back of his head as you whimper.

“there is simply never enough of you,” he breathes, “so pretty, so perfect.”

kaeya, you’ve learned, is like the first drops of snow on the ground, the soft glaze over the grass that leaves your eyes wide and breath caught, the lingering cool breeze the kisses your skin and has you shivering, the ice that melts and drips along a steady stream. he’s soft to the touch under your warm palm, shards of ice melting under your blazing heat as he opens himself to you.

“k-kaeya,” you gasp softly, feel his tip grazing along your sweet spot, his navel rubbing against your clit with every roll of his hips, his skin slapping against yours as you lose yourself to the drag of his cock along your dripping walls.

it’s a mess—there’s a mixture of your slick and his pre cum pooling between you both as it costs your skin, but you tug him closer, let your fingers wrap loosely around his tousled strands of hair as you tug.

“so tight,” he moans, “feels good, princess?” his voice is slurred against your neck, low groans brushing against your skin and making your shudder against his hold as you nod furiously, mewling when he angles his hips just perfectly. he drills his hips into you, bullying the thick stretch of his length in and out of your abused cunt with sloppy rhythm.

“yes,” you whimper, “yes, yes—so good. ‘m gonna cum, please.”

“then cum,” he growls simply, sucking on the skin of your neck as his thumb finds your clit and rolls harsh circles into the sensitive nub. as if on command, you shatter, clutching onto him tightly as your back arches off the mattress.

you cum with a broken wail, choking on his name as kaeya fucks you through your high. he’s groaning loud and low into your neck as your right walls spasm around his aching cock, and he’s close—you can tell from the way his hips are sloppy and grinding into you, from the way his arms are almost shaking to hold himself up right. with one, two, three more thrusts of his hips against you, he chokes on his own cry of your name, head digging deeper into the crook of your neck as his orgasm crashes over him.

you can feel the thick, hot ropes of cum filling you up with each twitch of his cock, spilling down your thighs as he slips in and out of your cunt and fucks you full. your thighs quake from the sensitivity, and with the last few roll of his hips, he slumps over your body, pressing his dampened skin against yours as he blankets you with his weight.

“do you want to tell me about your dreams,” you hum as you catch your breath, teasing lilt in your tone as you tangle your fingers into his sweaty hair gently.

“why discuss them when we can recreate them,” he throws you a grin—and it’s charming, a little mischievous, completely in love as he presses a kiss to your lips before hovering over you once more.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[aphrodites-playroom]

“you clean up pretty nicely fer someone who’s such a fuckin’ scrub.”

osamu loves his brother dearly, though his smile doesn’t quite reach his homey brown eyes as he fixes the pretty gold bow tie around his twin brother’s neck. instead of snarling back a playful response, atsumu only blinks at the reflection of himself in the mirror— sweat beading on his brow, Adam’s apple nervously bobbing up and down as he recites his words in his head.

“oi!” osamu snaps his fingers in front of his brother’s face, frown on his identical features while he grabs the lapels of atsumu’s tux. “whas’the matter with you, dickwad—?”

the blonde blinks— cutting the younger twin off. “ya think she’s ready f’me ‘samu?” the great atsumu miya, voted sexiest man in sport by Japan vogue, pride and joy of their national team, the better miya despite how brash and loud he can be…nervous. it hits osamu like a truck. “i mean like…’m a lot to deal with, she’s gonna have’ta deal with the shitty media, with shitty me and ‘m scared, ‘samu. what if she changes her mind about me?”

“don’t be stupid, she’s dealt with your dumbass f’this long. she loves you enough to want your last name.” osamu grunts, ruffling his brother’s perfectly styled hair and even though his ma will probably kill him, ‘tsumu somehow looks better than before. more like himself.

“will ya go and check on her?” the blonde half begs. “it’ll make me feel better.”

osamu obliges, heading straight to a dressing room further down the hall— knocking twice but not expecting to be whacked in the face by a lace garter.

“atsumu miya i told you not to come in here! it’s bad luck to see the bride before the—oh! osamu!”

you look like a bride, no, you’re prettier than most. the sweetheart necklace of your couture wedding gown looks perfect on you, the lacey bodice hugging your figure perfectly. you have that glow of someone who’s just about to be married, who’s going to be happy for the rest of her life— and it only shines brighter because of the sweet little gems accenting everything you wear. osamu miya’s heart nearly stops in its place.

“hope yer not confusing me with my stupid mug of a brother,” he finally says when he enters the room— hand held out to twirl you and watch your dress spin under the warm afternoon sun.

“you’re identical, osamu.”

“but he’s the uglier one,” the younger miya twin says pointedly, making you smile, melting at your gentle laugh while you politely cover your mouth with your manicured hand. “‘n stop calling me that, ‘m not your boss anymore and yer practically family now.”

still giggling, you nod cutely, looking up at osamu and he swears he might die. “sorry ‘samu, it’s a shame about ‘tsumu though; wouldn’t want him to ruin any wedding photos.”

“impossible,” the restaurant owner whispers without thinking. “you’ll be in ‘em, and you look so beautiful.” he twirls you again, as if watching your skirts spin in a brilliant flowing circle will turn back time. take osamu back to when he first met you; when you were meek and shy and looking for a part time job in onigiri miya to make ends meet.

he would have turned back time to a place in your lives where he would have taken you on dates instead of pushing you away the night you confessed to him in the back office. he would have stolen you away on a trip to his favourite ice cream parlour in his hometown to tell you he loved you before atsumu confessed his love to you at a big game in Tokyo with the whole world watching. he would have held your hand a little tighter instead of letting them brush softly while you worked together in the kitchens, he would have walked you home more often, danced with you around his shop after closing time, held your hands between his to warm them up in the cold winters.

he wouldn’t have fought his own twin brother in the onigiri miya staff car park for a chance to make you happy. he wouldn’t have let atsumu pin him down into the gravel, straddling his hips and shaking him by the collar with blood blossoming from the cut on his twin’s lower lip. “i can’t give her up b’fore i’ve even tried, ‘samu. i’m not like you.” atsumu wouldn’t have said, teary eyed in fear of betraying the person he loves most in the world.

then none of you would be here on your wedding day, engaged and soon to be married to the one and only atsumu miya.

then he wouldn’t be picturing you at the end of the makeshift aisle outside his family shrine hyogo, marrying osamu instead.

then osamu wouldn’t be hurting, living a life with only one regret.

“‘samu?” your voice penetrates his thoughts even while so quiet. “do you think he’s ready for me?”

funny how you’ve said the same thing as his twin, you’re both so alike and maybe that makes you perfect for one another. “of course he is, if he wasn’t i’d have to knock some sense into that empty skull of his.” osamu hums when you face him again, biting his tongue. he could have told you how much he had loved you all these years, he could have ruined everything but then he wouldn’t have been able to see that angelic smile grace your lips and watch the spark in your eyes nearly blind him.

“oh, thank you ‘samu…”

you’re about to say more, he’s about to do the same but your bridesmaids rush in shoo him out to add the finishing touches to your bridal look. the door closes in osamu’s face, and he sighs, because although he can’t go back and turn back time…part of him still wishes he fought back, to be then one that loves you now, instead.

[aphrodites-playroom]

Life is the tillage

synopsis: with your mental health at an all time low, your old childhood friend welcomes you to recuperate on his humble plot of land. gradually you begin to rediscover the beauty of living — one rice paddy at a time.

tags: AFAB reader (called darling, love, sweetheart), childhood friends to lovers, reader deals with depression (NO mention or description of suicide/self harm), discussions of self worth, Japanese rice farming (probably inaccurate, but there are ducks and frogs!), food to communicate love, bed sharing, resolved romantic tension, eventual smut, no power dynamics, praise, vaginal oral sex + fingering (reader receiving), unprotected vaginal sex (pull out method), aftercare

wc: 15.4k

The covers on the train seats are threadbare, withered with age and itching uncomfortably against your skin. Your eyes wander across the empty carriage, a cacophony of steel meeting track and old wheels turning. Not many people from the city took this particular route unless they were already residents — it was a little further out into the countryside, so much so that most found it an inconvenient place to visit. As the journey progresses the colour palette evolves, the grey landscape of the city fading gently into green and golden hues, accented by the blushing evening sun. 

In that moment the horizon appears seamless and unending; with barely a blemish of cloud the sky reminds you of a fresh bruise. Your throat becomes uncomfortably dry at the simple beauty of it and you find yourself looking away to the hands in your lap, tightly wrung and trembling. Somewhere out there, across timelines and universes, there may be a version of yourself that would never get the chance to see this. 

The thought ripples through your chest and sinks to the bottom of your stomach. Inside you there is a vast and deep cavern, the pit weathering more through every year that passes no matter how much sand you throw into it. Such a tangible absence, it was paraxdocially heavy, and you carried it everywhere you went. You’d ask yourself time and time again: how much longer until it all collapses, how much longer until the infrastructure inevitably breaks? 

Eventually it was too much to bear. I want to live, you’d decided. Though that brief moment of strength hadn’t lasted very long at all. 

I want to die, you think as you sink against the window, vibrations rattling through the thick glass into your temple. And then again — how much longer? 

The station comes into view, a small blip in a sea of fields. There, on the only train platform in the village, Kita Shinsuke is awaiting your arrival. A childhood friend and the buoy you lost sight of years ago, his grandmother remained incredibly tight knit with your family even after they’d moved away following your graduation. It was that very nurtured connection which led to your being here; people do talk, after all. 

“My Shinsuke is happy t’have you for as long as you need. He’s got plenty of room in that house of his”. 

He’d made quite a life for himself in the time that had passed. Rice farming wasn’t anything close to extravagant but you felt the path was completely tailored to him; it fit well around his shoulders and stopped right at the cuff. Kita had always been a stickler for routine, often accumulating small actions that ended up serving a much larger purpose — sowing seeds and tilling fields to eventually bear crops and fill empty stomachs. 

Though there is no fluffy white rice to fill your own, only shame and embarrassment. You spot him quickly through the muddied window, pale green overalls unbuttoned at the torso to be tied around his waist, hand raised and shielding his eyes from the sun to watch as the train crawls to a stop.

You quickly get to your feet, stumbling as the brakes jolt the carriage, and make your way through the automatic doors with suitcase in hand. The air is cool, a gentle caress paired well with the sun's stifling heat, and a shiver spreads along your back as Kita approaches. 

He calls for you, your name sitting right at home in his mouth, having missed the thick accent more than you realised. It reminds you of a much simpler time, where the only thing you needed to worry about was homework or tallying the points for the boys volleyball team. But even then this thing had been gnawing away at you. A thing that would always follow no matter where you went, slowly descending upon you even if you managed to outrun it for a few days. 

It would find you here, too. 

A deep inhale to collect yourself, the oxygen fills your lungs until they bloat and your shoulders straighten up, forcing a grin across your face that strains each cheek. “Kita,” you move to greet him properly and hope he doesn’t see through your puppetry, “it’s good to see you again”. 

Good is perhaps an understatement. He’d always been handsome but in your time apart he has grown, shoulders broader and arms much larger. His bangs hang over his eyes slightly, earth and amber reflecting back at you as the light bounces through them. His expression pinches minutely as he looks you over, searching for something you aren’t aware of, softening only when he meets your gaze. As he smiles at you, you find your own is a little less plastic. 

“I don’t want any a’ that formality here,” he says as he extends an open hand, wordlessly asking to take your luggage, “doesn’t matter how long it’s been. I’m still your Shin, alright?” 

His fingers brush along your palm as he grabs the handle and you release your grip, fist pressing to your chest and clenched to hold onto the warmth. “Alright,” you quietly assent, shrinking into yourself as his arm leans against the small of your back to guide you forward. 

Your facade must be weaker than intended, you think, if he feels the need to linger so closely like this. 

“I’m parked up just there,” you glance up to catch as he nods in the opposite direction, following his line of sight to an off-white truck decorated in spats of mud around the outer panels. As the distance lessens you can see a red-gold omamori hanging from the rear view mirror alongside a pale blue air freshener. 

“Hop in,” he squeezes gently at your waist once before reaching across to open the door for you, “I’ll put yer things in the back”. 

Curiosity piqued as you waited for him. You pinch the good luck charm between your thumb and forefinger, smiling at the soft scent of chamomile emanating from the hanging decorations. The truck was clearly an older model, a radio that only takes CDs in the centre console and handles on either passenger door to roll down the windows manually. But it seemed well loved, and Kita never complained about appearances as long as the job got done. 

The car rocks on its axle as he climbs into the driver's seat, sending you another soft smile as he leans over to flip down your sun visor and jostles your belt buckle. “Ready?” he asks, tending to his own seatbelt. 

You nod, swallowing the dry swell building in your throat. Somehow while being a young man that you now barely knew, he really was still your Shin, and you couldn’t comprehend how quickly he invited you back into his life. The levels of familiarity and comfort that you’d built all throughout your childhood and adolescence, it was all still there. Unchanged, waiting. 

“It’s not far from here. Ya might have to endure some bumps though,” he continues to speak over the hum of the engine and wheels turning loudly against loose gravel. The back of the seat is hot through your clothes, having spent the day absorbing the sun. 

“Yer quiet,” he comments, though not unkindly, and you grimace regardless. 

“Sorry Ki— Shin. I guess I just feel a little awkward and… guilty, for imposin’ on you like this,” you tell him. Especially because you’d been a terrible friend after graduation, so caught up in your own turmoil and rationing out the small amount of energy you had between work, that maintaining long distance relationships became draining. 

“You could never impose on me. I know it’s a slight ways’ out from where we grew up but my home is still yours an’ that hasn’t changed”. The memory of ten years old Shinsuke’s chubby little finger hooked around your own flashes through your thoughts, both sodden with rain as granny swaddled you in towels. You’d run away from home after an argument with your family, something childish and inconsequential, but so big to you at the time. 

Shinsuke had found you in your shared hideout, patted the top of your head as you cried, and then dragged you back to his house in the middle of a storm. “When yer sad ya’ can always come sleep here,” he’d promised, “granny’s house is your house too”. 

Quietly watching as Kita’s fingers tap lightly against the steering wheel, palm pressing flat to turn it with each corner, a familiar sting spreads through your sinuses and you blink away the onset of tears. “Did… Do you know why I came out here?”

“All granny said is that you aren’t ya’self right now. And I’m not one to pry”. 

You exhale with relief. “Thank you, Shin”.

He hums, low and content. The glass windows vibrate in their frames as he drives onto a dirt road, either side shaded by wild grass. “The city isn’t for everyone. Yer always welcome to stay when you need a break,” he replies. 

The surroundings change, the hill faintly sloped, and as he pulls out onto another road you find yourself surrounded by a few acres of golden rice fields. At the end of the makeshift road is a two story wooden farmhouse, made up of heavy timber and uneven beams, covered by a traditional steep thatched roof. Across the landscape into the distance, you can see the silhouette of the Chugoku mountain chain. 

“All this is yours?” 

“Inherited all three hectares of it,” he breathes, voice tinted with faux exasperation and you feel yourself smile, “it’ll be time for harvest soon enough. Most of the ears are gold and beginning to bow”. 

“I haven’t got a clue what that means but I’ll assume it’s positive,” you laugh. The truck pulls up in front of a moderately small outhouse, stalling right where the tracks end, and he pushes down the handbrake before cutting out the engine. 

“When yer feeling up to it I’ll take you around the paddies and explain,” he sinks back into his seat for a moment, head turned to meet your gaze as he grins, “maybe I’ll even put ya’ to work”. 

Something about the mirth in his eyes and the charming quirk of his mouth strums your centre of gravity, a gentle swoop through your belly. “As long as I don’t get in the way I’d love to help,” you reply. 

Once again, for a split second you feel as if you’re being seen through, like your choice of words had given something away to him. “That seems to be a theme with you,” he observes, “don’t assume yer’ a burden to me. If you get somethin’ wrong I’ll simply correct ya, no harm done”. 

“Okay,” is your quiet reply. He softens considerably, hand falling heavily atop the crown of your head to reassure you before he begins to climb out of the truck. Your eyes fall closed, remembering the weight and the sincerity in his expression before following closely behind. 

Landing unceremoniously onto the soft soil, you begin to internally curse some of the clothing you’d brought along with you. Most were chosen for comfort, not for agricultural living, as proven by the awkward grip your soles have in the dirt. But Kita doesn’t comment, only offers an arm to assist you onto firmer ground, and the simple act is enough to wash away the exaggerated embarrassment. 

You often forget that most don’t think twice about the things you do. 

He insists on carrying your luggage and so you trail behind him in awe up to the house, taken by the beauty and craftsmanship woven into the structure. “This is beautiful Shinsuke,” you hear yourself say. 

He glances back over his shoulder to you from the veranda, one that appears to encircle the entire front of the house. “I had it re-thatched a few months ago with a bamboo frame. I read that they were built like this in the Edo period to look like hands in prayer,” he smiles. 

“It suits you”.

“Is that right?”

You step into the genkan, watching as he leans down to untie every lace of his boots, fingers hooked into the heel to pull them off gently and line them up neatly on the shoe rack. You feel somewhat sheepish for the rough manner in which you kick yours off in comparison, too lazy to undo any of the knots. He slips his socked feet into his house slippers and to your surprise, offers you a pair of your own. 

They’re a pale grey and closed at the toe, just like his own, and your heel sinks pleasantly into the thick sole. “I thought they’d be preferable over open toed since we’re headin’ into the colder months,” he says. 

“And the memory foam?” 

The corners of his eyes wrinkle behind thinly veiled amusement. “You always were easy to please”. 

Heat flushes to your face at the lighthearted teasing as he leads you further into the house. As expected it's big, meant to be occupied by a family of at least three generations, and decorated quite traditionally. To the left of the entrance is a pair of sliding doors leading to a tatami room with an unused irori in the centre, which connects further to a kitchen and dining area. 

“This upstairs toilet is all yours, but ‘fraid there’s only one bath which we’ll be sharing,” he says. Kita’s bedroom is the largest room on the first floor along with an extra tatami room that leads out to the veranda, while on the second floor there are three smaller bedrooms for you to choose from. 

“The one at the back of the house might be better if yer not wantin’ the sunrise to wake ya,” he offers kindly, noticing your deliberation. You take the one at the back and he carefully sets your luggage onto the mat beneath the window. 

You breathe deeply and take in the space, embraced by the distinct scent of wet earth and rice straw. Kita watches in comfortable silence as you acclimate, the realisation that this would be home for a few weeks finally settling in. It was nothing like your old cramped apartment back in the city — the room was minimal, but so imbued with nature that you didn’t feel constricted at all. 

His footfalls are light as he crosses the threshold to slide open the closet. “The futon is in here, I aired it for the better part of yesterday so it’s ready for you to use,” he says, “it’s gettin’ late so I’ll start on dinner. If ya like I can get the firewood goin’ outside so you can take a bath in the meantime?” 

You should have expected, given the time period it was built, that this house would not have a regular bathroom. A fleeting sense of fondness flickers through you at the confirmation that Shinsuke, since the day of his birth, has lived in a manner beyond his years. He’d always held great appreciation for tradition, and you’re happy knowing that love permeated all avenues in his life. 

“A bath would be nice,” your hands wringing together against your stomach, smothering any passing anxiety about burdening him. You wanted it to be just as it was, you wanted to be the person he remembered. 

As promised, Kita had kindled the firewood at the back of the house and the water was warmed through the hot pipes, your body sitting deep in the basin as it laps at the curve of your neck. It’s a little funny finding his products lined along the shelves of a room trapped in time, the bright purple plastic of his body wash — again, chamomile — so out of place next to a todanaburo bath. 

The rippling sounds echo as you move, ringing in your ears with each pass of cloth over skin. It would be lonely if not for the occasional clattering of pots and plates bleeding through the gap in the door from the kitchen. 

You don’t soak for very long, conscious of the food going cold. The towels left folded atop the laundry basket are new, thick and soft between your fingers. His forethought makes you smile, as it always has, reminded of his earlier words. If you truly were easy to please, then you wondered why you felt burdened by your own needs. 

Dressed in your pajamas, sleeves to your wrist and pant legs loose around your ankles, you join Kita in the tatami room by the kitchen with the ends of your hair still damp. He has set out a low table, cushions either side for you to sit on, and the inori has been covered. In the time you took to bathe he has changed into a muted grey jinbei jacket and light sweatpants, 

“I was curious if you’d be usin’ that,” you motion to the square recess in the floor, voice announcing your arrival. He glances up at you, pausing as he sets out the small dishes in the centre, and hums amusedly. 

“Hasn’t been used in decades. Decided to leave it there to keep the house's character,” he says, lining your chopsticks vertically exactly an inch from your plate, “but it’s good to feel close to yer ancestors too. I imagine they would’ve shared meals here often”. 

You get to your knees, heels pressed either side of your thighs as you take your seat across from him. The sweet scent of teriyaki sauce floods your senses and you observe the meal set in front of you. Sautéed vegetables of red, gold and green are resting atop a serving of white fluffy rice, along with neatly cut blocks of tofu. 

Your eyes meet as your hands simultaneously come together in prayer, and you say thanks for the food. 

“Donburi?” you murmur appreciatively, chopsticks in hand as he motions for you to eat, Kita’s warmth lingering along the stem, “it smells amazing”. 

“I prepped the tofu a few days ago an’ would’ve hated to waste it,” using deft fingers he takes a piece between his own chopsticks and dips it into the small sauce dish, “nothin’ special but I hope it’s to your liking”.

You cushion a small cube of tofu with some rice and bring it to your lips, hand cupped beneath to catch the runaway grains. The sauce is tangy along your tongue, soft hints of ginger and umami absorbed into the lightly crisped coating. It’s good, and you tell him as much. 

There is no sense of awkwardness, no pressure to find your footing and engage in conversation. Kita had always been a quiet eater, preferring to show gratitude by savouring the food on his plate, and so the two of you eat together in familiar silence aside from the occasional passing of dishes. Somehow, everything tastes better in his company. 

As the evening winds down Kita pours you each one small cup of sake to rinse your palate. Having finished your meal first you try not to watch as he tends to the last of his food, stomach not quite full. “Did you want to go over your day to day expectations now that I’m here?” you finally ask. 

With his free hand he swipes the corner of his mouth and licks the stray sauce from his thumb, humming contemplatively. 

“I get up every mornin’ around five. I like to catch the sun as it comes up and start working early,” as if reading your thoughts he pinches a piece of tofu between his chopsticks and leans forward to put it on your now empty plate, “so if ya wake up and I’m gone don’t panic”. 

“Alright,” you murmur gratefully, lifting the golden cut cube to your mouth, “and when you’re not busy, will you show me the ropes?” 

“Course I will darlin’,” he replies. The pet name falls so naturally from his lips you almost miss it, warm beneath your skin as it registers. “I’ll even introduce you to the ducks, if that’s what ya want”. 

Unexpected, a grin curls at the corners of your mouth, excitement rousing in your chest. “Shin, you have ducks?” 

Judging by the smile in his eyes, your delight is contagious. He reaches over to take your empty plate while you’re distracted and begins to stack them atop one another. “I do,” he says, “raising ‘em alongside the crop is good for keeping pests away. And they help with fertilisin’ the seedlings too”. 

You make a small cooing noise, withholding the onslaught of endearment building in your chest that spreads restlessly to your crossed legs as your knees bounce slightly beneath the table. 

The mental image of Shinsuke handling little bundles of yellow feathers, no bigger than his palm, brings you a monumental feeling of joy. Just as your eyes would be drawn to a small stroke of white across an otherwise black canvas, you are hesitantly lured in, and it happens so easily that your thoughts can barely catch up. Maybe the misery you carried had never been your fault — maybe you’d been in the wrong place all along. You yearned for a reason why things ended up as they were and you would accept any, naïve and juvenile as they might be, because you don’t think you could handle another just because. 

Maybe this could be it. 

After you have helped clear the table the two of you retire to your respective bedrooms, no artificial streetlight outside your window nor people passing by in the night to fill the empty air, and your fleeting happiness was swallowed up once again. It’s there that you remember; hope can be addictive, and the withdrawal is twice as cruel. 

Morning comes between blinks. One moment you are memorising the marks in the ceiling and in the next you are bathed by intrusive beams of light. The sun had risen far above the mountain line, so the day would’ve already started for Shinsuke — that knowledge should be inconsequential, but you still felt heavy for having missed breakfast. 

The sky, while bright, is slightly grey. You slip into something a little warmer, tugging thick work socks up over the cuffs of your sweatpants to hug your calves. He’d told you in passing that he had spare wellie boots that should fit you because your own shoes weren’t especially suited to wandering damp fields. 

Alone with the freedom to look closer, the house is different at this hour. You notice personal touches here and there that you hadn’t seen the night before — framed family portraits, his highschool year book free of dust, polaroids of you both as children; some older trinkets that you remember, too. Things his grandmother must’ve passed down to him, as you can only recall them in her own cabinets. 

Tucked beneath a touristic magnet of the sky tree is a new post-it note addressed to you. Shinsuke’s writing had been methodical and clear for as long as you’d known him. Penmanship was important, his family having taught him that traditions must be recorded and legible for future generations. In dark ink against teal-green, he instructs you to eat the food he left for you in the fridge. 

And whether it’s today or next week, come join me when you’re ready. 

The two onigiri awaiting you are wrapped with cling film and well shaped, assumedly made with the leftover rice. Your teeth sink into them, tender as the grains fall apart on your tongue, the same kindling of happiness settling in your stomach with each swallow. He made these with you in mind, perhaps he’d even woken up before his alarm to do so. 

You savour it — both the faint saltiness and the effort — and then make your way to the genkan with the goal of finding him. As promised there are a pair of navy wellington boots lined up by your own shoes, only one size up, which doesn’t matter much with the thickness of your socks filling the space. 

The breeze is a pleasant intermingling of warm and cool, billowing through your hair and guiding the darkening clouds further into town. The path leading to the fields is mostly flattened soil, soles scuffing on the occasional piece of gravel as you go. Thankfully Shinsuke isn’t too far from the house, having already made his way across a good two acres since day break, soaked to the knee with dirt. 

Strenuous work had always looked good on him, better when surrounded by a canvas of dull gold. Charcoal tipped bangs clinging to his forehead once he wipes away the sweat, rolling his neck as he rolls his shoulders to relieve the tension, chest heaving to catch lost breath. He never complained, choosing to enjoy each brick in the journey as it was laid, and you can’t help but envy him for it. 

He shuffles through the wet mud and bends every few steps to push a gloved hand into the drainage. You don’t call for him until the distance is shorter, gaze lingering for a while longer on the pink crawling up his throat with the effort. 

“Mornin’ Shin!” 

The sound of your voice doesn’t startle him. He stands upright and pulls off a glove with one hand to shield his eyes, looking over in your direction. Once noticed, his fingers lift in a subtle wave to beckon you, then he points them over his shoulder. “Got some guys I want’cha to meet,” he shouts. 

Sure enough, a few metres behind him paddling in the shallow field, are some adult ducks. Eight that you can count, bobbing and weaving between the yield, nipping their beaks along the water's surface. Propelled by your own excitement, with a first step your boot sinks into the sopping mud, each one more exaggerated than the last as you struggle to unstick yourself. 

Shinsuke merely pulls his remaining glove off and watches as you wade towards him, the levels only a few centimetres deep but still forcing exertion. When you’re near he offers his arm, mouth twitching into a soft smirk. “Good job,” he murmurs. 

“Shut up,” you huff petulantly between breaths, peering around him to see the flock between the stems of the crop. Any exhaustion is immediately forgotten 

“They’re so cute,” eager to meet them, you don’t notice that he only has eyes for you, “do they have names?” 

“Tried at the beginning but they’re easy to confuse with one another. I mostly stick t’numbers,” in your periphery you notice him reaching into his breast pocket, pulling out a small bottle of sun protection, “they’re here to work. They aren’t pets”. 

He takes advantage of your distraction, pushing the hair from your face and tucking it neatly behind your ears before smearing the suncream across the swell of your cheeks, and when your nose wrinkles in faint embarrassment he dots it onto the tip. Stammering, you ask: “why do I need to wear sun protection? It’s fall, and the sky is overcast—!”

“We could be out there for a while. Even if it isn’t summer anymore, ya gotta be careful,” he tells you. It feels almost as if he’s gently scolding a child for asking the obvious. A breeze dances through the crop and brushes pleasantly against your arms, patient while you allow him to massage the lotion in. 

“I can do that myself, y’know,” you murmur. He hums, a hand lingering at the curve of your throat before he pulls away. 

“I know. I just like takin’ care of you,” he replies. There’s no hesitance or forethought, he just says it as he does everything else — like he means it. Born from his need to do things a certain way and your younger self's sensitive disposition, he’d always had a penchant for doting on you. Even as you’d matured that habit never went away. 

Something dark twists itself into your sternum like clockwork and you attempt to smother it. Maybe he just thinks you’re incapable, it suggests. This part of you — the one that cannot accept anything with good intention as true — is the thing you hate most about yourself. 

“Sorry,” you rasp, looking to the space between your bodies and finding your rippling reflection beside muddied boots, staring right back. 

“Why?” he waits patiently, but you don’t have an adequate answer. “Have you ever known me to do something I don’t want to do? To do something without purpose?” 

You shake your head, peering up at him with squinted eyes as the clouds part, thinning to allow the sun through. The light swallows his frame, an outline of white gold as it hits his back. He’s beautiful and it’s familiar, because to you he has always been this bright. 

“Then just say thank you,” the water shifts as he begins to turn, his arm held out to help you walk through the sludge, “you aren’t a nuisance to me”. 

With his body no longer shielding the sun, warmth passes over you. His palm is soft as it kisses your own, left untouched by endless hours of hard work thanks to how religiously he moisturised his hands every day. You’re reminded again that small things do matter. 

“Thank you,” you breathe. 

Shinsuke guides you without complaint, adapting to your heavy gait while seamlessly making his way through the fields. He pauses every so often to lower himself and overturn the soil, right glove back on while the left is bare and intertwined with your fingers. 

You take the time to appreciate your surroundings. Given how he leans more toward traditional practices you’d expect smaller, irregularly shaped paddies; but these ones are larger and rectangular in shape, much more fitting for machinery. 

You pause as he regards you, “think ya can do me a favour now you’re out here?” 

The questioning tilt of your head is an acceptable response. He smiles and takes an ear of yellow rice between his fingers, the younger spikelets still coloured green, prying away a tiny kernel and handing it over to you. It’s light in your palm, and you shield it from the oncoming gust of wind for fear it’d blow away. “Test this for me. Chew it carefully between yer teeth an’ let me know what’cha think”. 

Cautious, you put it into your mouth and roll it over your tongue before catching it between your molars. You’re gentle as you squeeze it, feeling the furrow of your brow. He tilts his head as he waits, the field breathing around the two of you. It was mostly firm, but still a little soft, and you tell him as such. 

“Will you be harvesting soon?” you ask. 

“It is around that time,” he replies, “the flooding has been much smoother this year, so we can probably get to drainin’ soon”. 

A little unsure of what he meant, you still find yourself nodding despite him not being able to see it. “I always make sure the levels are stable… like t’keep it around seven to eight centimetres this close to harvest,” he continues. 

“Is that what you’re doing now?”

He releases a sound of acknowledgement, glancing up at you from where he’s crouched. “Partly. I’m also lookin’ for something,” he says, gathering a dark mass into his loose fist before getting to his feet. Curious, you lean forward to get a better look at it, and startle at the glassy pair of eyes blinking between his fingers. 

“It’s… a toad?” 

“A frog. His legs are too long to be a toad,” he kindly corrects, turning his wrist to smile at the creature, “we had a lot of tadpoles this season. Amazing, isn’t it?” 

“Risky maybe. What if they get hurt or stepped on?”. Heat flashes beneath your skin as you realise your hands are still interlinked, but you make no move to let go, instead using the other to gently stroke over the frog’s head. Faint laughter builds in your chest as it squirms. Shinsuke watches you grin with an air of fondness.

“They’re resilient an’ they try their best with what they have,” he murmurs after a quiet moment of contemplation, “it's not only that. The rice around us is sensitive to the slightest change and requires a lotta’ care. Would ya say I’m burdened because of that?”

Somehow, he has circled the conversation right back to the start, right back to the heart of it all. You level him with a withered glare, and he takes it in his stride, unperturbed as ever. Shinsuke can appear unassuming and plain, but you knew he could be skilled in forcing people to confront their own manner of thinking. 

“That’s different. This is your job,” the words catch awkwardly in your throat, and you swallow down the swell. Legs kicking where they hang below his fist, the frog slips from Shinsuke’s grasp and jumps into the paddy with a resounding plop. 

“The difference is I’m not burdened by my job, because I love doin’ it”. Light reflects through his irises, giving the amber hue a ethereal glow, and you notice just how much determination is behind them. 

“Just try to remember the things ya don’t like about yourself aren’t just exclusive to you — they’re all around us in all manner a’ ways. Even if ya do think you’re awful because of them,” he says with a squeeze of your hand.

The impending afternoon heat sits heavy on your shoulders, conscious of your palms growing clammy. You’re overwhelmed, ears of rice grains blowing against your arm, feeling the imposing weight of his stare. “I don’t— I don’t know what to—” say, or do. 

He exhales, tightens his grip on you despite the sweat, and smiles. “S’alright, no need. Just something for ya to think on”. 

You nod, listening to the distant calls of his flock of ducks. They appear to be enjoying themselves, getting their fill of bugs and pests from between the paddies. Shinsuke follows your line of sight and encourages you with a soft tug. 

“I suppose we should eat too,” he says, slowly directing you towards a narrow path leading back to the house, “let me fix up somethin’ for ya”. 

An objection sits uselessly at the back of your throat, the sinking pull in your chest returning for a brief moment. You wanted to do something for him, too. You wanted to apologise again, so instead you say: “thank you, Shin”.

You recognise the pride in his expression, and buoyant once more, your footsteps are much lighter.  

Eventually you cultivate a routine you’re content with, though you’re still terrible at waking up early you try to join him in the fields before lunch even when your mood protests. Shinsuke explains how to milk the rice, how he’ll drain the field and what’ll come after with the harvest, satisfaction bleeding through into his voice. There’s now a bone deep ache in your thighs and your arms, unused to taking on so much manual labour, but it feels good. 

The first week comes to an end and the days unfold, each turn of the earth a stark and new beginning — no longer do they blur seamlessly into one another like before. 

You’re less hesitant with each step. As the minor changes slowly accumulate, you begin to notice as the pressure releasing from your body, and Shinsuke does too. “Y’look relaxed this morning,” he’d comment with a smile, “it’s good to see ya settlin’ in”. 

Though you’re happy with the changes, you don’t get comfortable with them, always bracing for another wave of loathing. You’re under no illusions. Nothing is better, but it is easier. After all, walking on a casted leg does not mean it isn’t injured, only that it is supported enough to bear weight. 

The nights are the hardest. Silence in the country is far louder than you anticipated, and the only other thing you can hear is the voice in your own head. Tonight is a little worse. Something about the nothingness — the gaping maw behind your ribs, the way the warm air sits, the dense shadows surrounding the room — is overwhelming. 

You kick off your quilt and leave it rumpled at the end of the futon as you struggle to sleep. You knew you’d need to hang it out again in the coming weeks. Maybe Shinsuke would be content with you cleaning the house while he was out, just to show your appreciation. To hold some purpose. 

Restless, you get to your feet. The sliding door is quiet as you open it, a soft sandpaper sound, but you grimace at the creak of the floodboards when descending the steps. Through darkness your eyes adjust, finding familiar shapes and silhouettes around the house, meandering your way slowly towards the entrance. You’d always known Shinsuke to be a light sleeper, and only hoped that you hadn’t woken him. 

You release a startled gasp once you reach the genkan, left unsteady by the sudden drop as you step down into the space, and wait with bated breath for any other movement from his bedroom. Nothing. Exhale. You slip your feet into the shoes you’d first arrived in and leave the laces loosely undone, unlocking the front door with a gradual turn of the key. A click echoes into the hall.

Noise floods your senses. The pitched whirring of the cicadas is much louder out in the open, almost likened to a distorted electrical current. Under the dim moonlight you observe the canvas of land, tip toeing along the veranda and seating yourself on the edge. Having absorbed the day's heat, the wood is still warm beneath your bare thighs.

A breeze passes through the thin fabric of your shirt, skin pebbling as you cross both arms over your chest. The rice crops barely feel it, standing slightly taller than the week before. Things grow according to their environments, and no two things have the same needs, that is what you’d learnt in the short time you’d spent here. 

It's widely common knowledge, and yet it shakes the foundation of your own perspective when applied to yourself, pushing you to look inwards. A part of you felt angered by how uncomplicated it needed to be.

Would you hate someone for their struggles, for how their symptoms manifested? Would you hate someone for lashing out because of their own hurt, for protecting themselves? Would you judge and be unkind to someone for things out of their control? 

Of course not — yet you had made that assumption about the people around you, and of Shinsuke. You ran from everyone that loved you and told yourself it was for their sake, when it was really because you were scared. Arrogant as it was, you made yourself an unlovable exception. 

You have been so cruel to yourself. 

The realisation stings, radiating through your sinuses and lining your eyes with tears. You blink to will them away, a few strays spill over to dampen your cheeks, but as if in a state of inertia you cannot seem to stop. 

A wet breath catches in your throat, disrupted by the jump of your sternum, and a light flickers on in the room behind you. It’s then that you notice the sliding doors leading from Shinsuke’s bedroom to the veranda, a shadow moving behind the screen, gently tugging it open. 

“Y’okay there sweetheart?” he murmurs, the sleep still thick in his voice as he lowers himself beside you, “what’re ya doin’ out here?” 

He’s in loose pajama pants and a short sleeved shirt, the muscle of his thigh pressed comfortingly against your own as he mirrors your position. An orange glow from the lamp by his futon illuminates his expression, giving warmth to the concern there. 

You swipe the back of your hand along your nose, smile brittle and eyes sore. “Sorry I woke you Shin,” you tell him, “I was just thinking”. 

Forefinger hooked, he catches a tear that has fallen to your jawline, but doesn’t mention it. “Wanna talk about it?” he asks. 

“Just… about why I came here. About how you let me stay, despite the fact that I never offered a good explanation”. 

He hums, acknowledging that he heard you, and that he was still listening. Your hands wring together anxiously as you continue to speak. “Even so, you knew I’d been struggling, didn’t you?” 

“You’ve always been too hard on yourself,” he returns quietly, “there’s no need to explain if ya can’t find the words. You don’t need ta’ justify anything to me”. 

A knot in your sternum, inches thick and splintering with age, loosens with his gentle words. What, why, when. How much longer — explanations were all anyone had ever wanted from you. But Shinsuke held no such expectation, he respected your need for time and never pushed. 

You wanted to try. 

“It wasn’t so bad when we were younger. There was always– something, eating away at me. But it was duller,” as you speak it begins to weigh on you, and so you lean against his side for support. “Then I started to feel like I could never get anything right, and it leaked into every corner of my life. Soon enough I felt like I couldn’t even form relationships properly, that I embarrassed myself every time I spoke, and that everyone else could see it too”. 

“So I isolated myself,” you admit through shame, “but the guilt that came with it was awful. I didn’t know what to do– I still don’t”. The words, slightly warbled and cloying, cause Shinsuke to press his lips together in a regretful thin line. For a moment you think he too might’ve finally seen the worst of you, his body shifting as he gets to his knees and moves away. 

“Wait here,” he reaches to cradle the back of your head for a moment before beginning to stand, “I’ll be right back”.

As promised he returns to the veranda only a few minutes later and repositions himself at your side. Held in his careful grip is a photograph, slightly curled at the edges and well loved. In the centre is an old picture of you and Shinsuke as children, clearly candid judging by how preoccupied you both are with the sparklers in your hands. It had been taken on New Years Eve, each wearing traditional clothing that you faintly remember being far too tight. 

Swallowing the swell in your throat, you look at Shinsuke questioningly. His facial expression, always a little bit softer around you, is kind. “I don’t know if you’ll remember, but after this was taken y’had a real big cryin’ fit because you couldn’t spell yer name with the sparkler like I could,” he says. 

You laugh, but the sound is wet and nearer a sob. With his free hand, Shinsuke extends his arm and swipes away another stray tear sliding over your cheek, the touch lingering by your mouth. “While you were wailin’ like a newborn you said to me, ‘it’s not fair Shin, I’m never good at anything!” looking back to the printed memory, the warmth leaves your skin and returns to his lap.

“Granny told me once that we’re all whole people, but people can’t do a whole lot on their own,” he continues to speak and you watch as he gently traces his finger over your younger self, “sure, ya wasn’t good at everything. But y’had all the things I lacked, did a lot of the things I couldn’t — how else could I have cleaned our sliding door tracks, if not for your scrawny little hands?” 

You breathe a huff of amusement and the exhale seems to deflate you, your eyes burning as you curl against his shoulder. He welcomes it and rests his head atop your own. “What’s your point, Shin?” you ask. 

Being so close to his throat you can feel the faint vibration as he talks, drawn to the comforting heat thrumming through his skin. This was still friendly and you tell yourself it could be passed off as such, despite how he nuzzles into your hair. 

“You’ve trouble fathoming yer worth because you measure it by your successes,” he says quietly, “bein’ in your own head too long like that can distort the truth. The point is that ya don’t see yourself the way I do, or how anyone else does for that matter”. 

Shinsuke leans forward minutely, lips moving against your temple as he talks, mimicking a kiss with each word. “Don’t deprive yaself of livin’ just because you don’t think you’re doing it right”.

The moon is then overcast by cloud, and you’re left only with the intimate light of his bedroom flooding out through the sliding doors. “Okay,” you murmur, “I’ll try”. 

He thanks you. It’s enough for him, it always is. All Shinsuke ever asks is that you try your best, because the outcome never more meaningful as the effort before it. 

“Then, how about joinin’ me tomorrow?” you glance over to him as he tilts his head to meet your gaze, pulse poignant in your chest at the close proximity. Though you can barely see them, you’re sure there are faint freckles dusting his cheeks, kissed by the summer months. 

You’d like to kiss him too, you realise. 

“Tomorrow?” 

He smiles. “I’m goin’ into town to drop something off at granny’s, and was planning to get some grub from Osamu on the way home”. 

“I’d love to. I’ve missed her,” you reply. Shinsuke’s grandmother had been something of a matriarch on your street, watching multiple generations pass. She’d done more for you than you could ever thank her for, with both her kindness and her unending maternal love for you. 

“Plus I haven’t had ‘Samu’s onigiri since graduation,” the memory of it was a fond one, and if you concentrate you can still taste the pickled plum, “it’d be nice to see him again”. 

“I thought so too,” he nods, taking a final cursory glance across his land before eyes fall back to you, tongue subtly wetting his lower lip. He’s all warm toned — his face, his voice, his skin. 

“D’ya think you’ll be able to get some kip now?” 

His question plucks at the magnetism strung between the two of you. Deep in your gut you feel as if your answer might create a fork in the road, a before and an after. 

“Probably not for a while,” — not yet, I want to stay with you a little longer — “you can head off, though”. 

“Not without you,” he huffs, his larger hand encircling your wrist and encouraging you to your feet, “ya need to rest. If not in yer own bed, then in mine”.

Your mind briefly blanks, and he takes advantage of the long moment between your synapses connecting, guiding you into his bedroom. The futon is big, much bigger than your own, spread wide over the tatami flooring and headed by two thick pillows. 

“In… in yours? Is that really okay?” 

He slides the door closed, shutting the latch and giving one short tug to check it’s secure, glancing over his shoulder to where you are standing listlessly. The click echoes in your chest. “It’s fine with me,” he says, “is it fine with you?” 

You observe as he places the childhood photograph back on one of the shelves with more care than necessary. It isn’t the bed sharing that concerns you, but the implication that it could mean something more. 

“Alright,” you breathe, kneeling onto the covers and kneading the plush where your hand sits. It feels expensive, and was likely one of Shinsuke’s only selfish purchases. 

Your head sinks into the pillow gently, laid on your side and turned inwards, watching him settle next to you. The lamp is still on, mellow toned light magnifying the intimacy as he faces you, only a few inches of distance between your bodies. 

You swallow the urge to apologise. “Thank you, Shin”. 

“Thank you,” he returns reverently. Confused, you hum in question and he shakes his head, hints of a fond smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve done more for me than ya realise”. 

“Like helping with the farm?” 

“Like makin’ me happy,” he says. 

You weren’t sure what it was you’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been that. Reflexively you turn into the pillow, wanting to hide your smile and the truths written all over your face. The comfortability and yearning that oscillates inside of you when around Shinsuke only seems to spread, felt in the tips of your fingers as yours stretch to brush his in passing. 

You realise that love, something your consciousness had agonised over and grieved, was always been woven into your muscle memory; as if straddling a bike for the first time since you were a child, in your descent of a steep hill, your body remembers. 

You reposition your legs beneath the sheets and try to ignore how little you’re wearing. Influenced by the tension your voice is quiet as you reply: “I’m happier here too”. 

After he stretches across you to turn off the lamp, lingering far longer than he needed to, you fall asleep surprisingly quickly. Alongside the muffled cicadas had been the whirring of a small fan in the corner of the room, filling it with white noise, and his shallow breathing lulled you into security. This was not the first time you’d spent a night with him, though you hadn’t had a sleepover in many years, and you aren’t sure this could be likened to one held between children. 

You wake briefly a few hours later to the first glares of sunlight, squinting as you peer up at Shinsuke, still in the futon but sitting upright as he rubs the sand from his eyes. He notices your movement in his periphery and smiles, settling his hand atop the crown of your head to stroke your head, as if to soothe you. “Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, “we don’t have’ta leave ‘til this afternoon, so catch up on resting”. 

In no position to object, already halfway there as his nails lightly scratch your scalp, you let yourself have a few more hours. The next time your eyes open he’s gone, his side of the bed made up – corners perfectly overlapping, not a crease in sight – and the pillow is cold. There’s disappointment, but also a sense of relief that you needn't confront your feelings just yet. 

The air seems to have cooled further into the morning, no longer irritated by how your shirt clings to your skin. As you stand you notice a clock on one of his bookcase shelves, blinking digits back at you, informing you that it is almost lunch. Your gait is stilted as the circulation rushes through your legs, still sleep-mussed as you stumble through the lower floor rooms towards the kitchen in search for a glass of water.

“What’re ya lookin’ for?”

“Fuck, Shin—!” 

You flinch at the sound of his voice, carrying through from the main tatami room leading to the kitchen where he stands quietly in the doorway, a steaming mug held between his hands. He’s already in casual clothes, a pair of dark jeans and a long-sleeved sweater that clings nicely to his arms. He lifts it to his lips, hiding a smile as he drinks, and it’s unbearably attractive. 

“I was just, uh. It was a warm night so, I was gonna drink some water and maybe try makin’ lunch before you got back, but…” your rambling trails off into silence, feeling uncharacteristically shy. 

His eyes flicker to your bare legs for a moment. “If yer willing to get ready now we’ll head out an’ see granny earlier before we stop by Onigiri Miya,” he offers. Externally there is nothing out of place, yet there is still something tangibly different that you’re tempted to reach for. 

“Okay,” you accept, shifting awkwardly between each foot, “I’ll— I’ll go get dressed then. Can you fill up a bottle of water for me?” 

He nods once in agreement, and then again to the stairs, “I’ll be waitin’”.

So you rush each step, wincing at the weight of your footfalls as you go. You hadn’t packed much in the way of making a good impression, or with the thought that you might see anyone other than Shinsuke. In hindsight it had been naive to assume he’d let you isolate yourself all over again, but you’d truly forgotten just how close-by Osamu still was. 

You get yourself ready with haste. Shinsuke stands by the genkan amusedly as he watches you flit from room to room in a cartoonish state, toothbrush in one hand and hairbrush in the other, the buttons of your shirt needing to be fixed more than once. “Alright,” you huff a deep breath, hooking a finger to fix the tongue of your shoe where it folds inwards, “let’s go!”

The journey into the residential part of town is only slightly longer than the first. You lean your head against the window as it rattles, enjoying the vibration through your temple as you observe the many people walking along the pavements. There are a few families that you recognise, even some old students that’d been three years your junior in highschool. 

You suppose not everyone felt trapped here, like they had something to run from or prove by enduring the wider world. They all looked happy. 

The vehicle begins to slow as it crawls up to the curb, a familiar house coming into view. Shinsuke’s grandmother Yumie is sitting beneath the shade in a cushioned bench, a chestnut coloured walking stick propped up beside her. Her carer must be somewhere in the house, you think. Apparently it had taken her a good few years to accept the help, often getting by with the assistance of her neighbours. 

“What is it you were bringing for her again?”

“Some of the duck eggs,” he says, taking a moment to observe her wistfully through the windscreen before moving to unbuckle his seatbelt, “she likes ‘em soft boiled”.

Yumie looks up as she hears the sound of your passenger door falling shut, eyes narrowed into a squint as she struggles to see. Shinsuke approaches her with ease, hand lifted overhead in a wave while he calls out to her, and you watch her grin at his voice. “Shin-chan,” she croons. 

He crouches in front of her and lowers his head to her knees, bowing in greeting. “It’s good to see ya in high spirits granny,” you hear him say. He smiles at her and takes her hands into his own, squeezing them affectionately before her eyes are naturally drawn to where you linger behind him. She visibly brightens.

“Hi again granny,” you move closer as she beckons you, “you’re lookin’ healthy as ever”. 

“And you’re as bonny as the first day I saw ya,” she smiles, and the pink in her cheeks pay her back some of her youth. Shinsuke glances between you, his expression a clear mirror of hers. 

“I’m gonna give the eggs to Murase while you two chat, how’s that?” he suggests, straightening his back as he stands, “we’re not stayin’ long today, so I won’t hog any of your extra time”. 

You worry your lower lip between your teeth. “Are you sure that’s—”

“Thank you darlin’,” Yumie cuts in smoothly, “I appreciate it. So away with ya”. 

Shinsuke follows her instruction dutifully, hand brushing your shoulder with intent as he passes, casting a final smile your way as if to say good luck. Yumie titters at the interaction and pats the space next to her. 

“How’ve ya been faring over on the farm?” she inquires quietly, a playful air about her as if you were children sharing secrets, “has my Shin been good to you?” 

“He’s always been good to me granny, you know that,” you murmur back, entertaining her whims, “I’ve enjoyed staying with him”. She hums, much in the same way Shinsuke does, indicating that she’s pleased. 

“Ya sound a lot happier than when we last spoke,” — the phone call, her suggestion that you pack your things and come back home, you remember well — “had me worried, pet. You’re like another grandchild to me”. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe the words and lean to take her hand, smaller and wrinkled in your own. She has gotten a little shorter too, you can tell. “I’ve… It's been hard. But I want to be better”. 

Her grip tightens, but it’s still weak. “You always were sensitive, had a heart like a bruised apple,” she says, crows feet deepening by her eyes, “wanted so badly to be like everyone else ya couldn’t see how wonderful you were as yourself”. 

Overhead, the sun begins to dim, smothered by grey. If you concentrate you can see that they’re coasting along quite quickly, and the darker clouds are not far behind. “I always found something to be sad about,” you recall noncommittally as you glare up at the sky, “I thought I was doing everyone a favour by pulling away”. 

In your peripheral Shinsuke comes out onto the front step, waiting beneath the door frame with no intention of interrupting. Yumie clicks her tongue, “nothing wrong with being sad, darlin’. It’s alright to ask for help — all wounds deserve healing”.

“Because whole people still can’t do a whole lot on their own, right? 

“That’s right,” barely noticeable as it starts, rain droplets sparsely litter the pavement, “Shin-chan tell ya that one did he?” 

Shin-chan is starting to look anxious, you think to yourself. You grow restless in your seat, wanting to move Yumie indoors before the weather worsens. “He did,” you murmur, glancing over at the man in question and wordlessly asking for his assistance, “we should go inside, granny. It’s startin' to spit”. 

She squeezes your hand once more before reaching for her cane, and turns to you a final time, smiling as she lowers her voice. “You deserve love, too. He won’t let’cha forget that anytime soon”. 

Shinsuke appears before you have the chance to reply discreetly, unperturbed by the secrecy of the moment and extending his arm for her to use as support as she pushes her weight against her cane, “time to head in, granny. I gave Murase yer duck eggs and he’s makin’ shoyu tamago”.

She vocalises her excitement, though rasped and tinny in her throat. Yumie had been an older woman for as long as you’d known her, so much so that you and the other neighbourhood children would gather to try and guess her age. But she’d still been spry, always keeping up alongside the other parents. There is melancholy in knowing her body was beginning to slow. 

The words blur together slightly as you gradually walk toward the house, rainfall quickening into a chorus of pitter-patter, white noise overlaying their voices. The spray is thin and abundant, the kind that hurts your eyes and stings when wielded by wind. A young man, presumably Murase, meets Yumie at the door. He’s clean cut, hair buzzed neatly to his scalp and dressed in a collared polo shirt, a bow at the back of his neck where his apron is tied. He bows upon noticing you. 

Shinsuke lingers with hands at her back as Yumie is helped into the entryway, his anxiety apparent despite trying to hide it out of respect. “Make sure you have enough time to stay when y’next visit,” she titters, turning to pat him gently on the cheek. He nods, and you do the same. 

“After I’ve drained the fields an’ finished the harvest I’ll have all the time in the world for ya, granny,” he replies, eyes closing as he smiles. 

“Good. Now you take proper care of each other”. 

Shinsuke’s touch is warm against the small of your back as he curls around you, your heads ducked closely together and giggling as you rush to the car even though it shields none of the rain. By the time you’re seated in the truck the fabric of your shirt is clinging to your shoulders and droplets are whipping against the roof. The engine sputters as it starts, evolving into a smooth hum as Shin leans across the dashboard to turn the heating on, pointing the small fan in your direction to give you more of the hot air. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, skin pebbling at the sudden change in temperature, “shit, that was fast. Didn’t think it looked like rain today at all”. 

“It’ll pass quickly. See,” — he points across the skyline and you follow the line of sight, finding a clear span of blue in the distance where the darker clouds end — “we should be fine. D’ya still wanna call in at Osamu’s?” 

“Yeah I want to. Does he know we’re coming?”

“I let him know before you woke up this mornin’”. 

“Ok. It’s been a while since we last saw one another,” you say, pressure returning to your chest along with the guilt, “since I last saw… everyone, really”. 

You’re grateful that he doesn't immediately baby you; you left people behind who cared about you. There were plenty of reasons for it, no ill intent, but it still hurt. Them and you. Shinsuke had always been comforting because you knew he would always be honest, and you didn’t really want to be told it wasn’t your fault. He steers with both hands on the wheel, fingers dancing over the curve, each tap joining the cacophony of water against glass and tire against gravel. Hearing the hesitance in your voice, he says: “a sincere apology goes a long way. People are more forgivin’ than you realise”.

You nod silently, fiddling with a loose thread hung from the seam of your pants, and focus on the trails left behind by the rain running down the windscreen before they’re wiped away. “Remember when we used to bet on which droplet would reach the bottom first?” 

Laughter rumbles in his chest, putting you at ease. “I remember ya always used to cheat by changing which raindrop you were followin’,” he replies. 

“I have no recollection of that,” you mutter petulantly, lips jutting into a pout to conceal your smile. The downpour begins to clear up, followed by a potent air of petrichor, and you watch as people sheltered under doorways and bus stops flock back out onto the busier streets. 

You notice the Onigiri Miya sign in the distance, fixed above the door and displaying his logo to the public. You knew it was just his first restaurant and he wanted to expand his business, but the pride you felt at the sight was insurmountable. 

It’s moderately busy as you enter together. There’s a small line, so you join the end and use the time to survey the interior. Like Shinsuke, Osamu had always favoured things that were a little more traditional, and that was evident in his space. There’s a banner of the shop name written in japanese calligraphy, various artworks hung throughout the walls in appreciation of the local agriculture, and mahogany stained furniture that only adds to its character. 

At first there is a younger woman waiting at the cashier but you pick up on the familiar ring of his voice from the kitchen, loudly carrying through as he ducks beneath the curtain hung across the doorway and trades places with her for the time being. 

Osamu is broader than you remember him being; so clear in your mind is the image of him as a boyish second year, hair coloured grey in opposition to his brother's blonde. Now he stands tall, carrying himself with a natural air of confidence, looking as if he is right at home talking to his patrons from behind the counter. Shinsuke waits patiently beside you, shuffling further up in the line every few minutes, and you feel the prick of his stare as you observe your junior. 

Eventually it is your turn to approach, and Osamu’s eyes meet yours in a double take, his expression opening up as he grins. The tension in your muscles unravels — he is happy to see you. 

“Yo, ‘Samu,” the casual greeting falls from your lips before you can even think, still a habit even after all the years apart, “it’s good to see you again!” 

“Yer a sight for sore eyes, that’s for certain,” he folds his arms atop the counter and leans forward to regard Shinsuke as he speaks, “Kita-san mentioned ya came back, but I thought he might’a finally started hallucinating after bein' alone over there for so long”. 

Shinsuke huffs a breath of amusement, and you try not to react as he rests his hand by your hip. “Watch yourself. Stop makin’ me sound like a recluse, or I’ll stop giving you the family discount”. 

The familiarity of being with them both swaddles you, and you feel yourself falling back into old shoes, surprised as how effortlessly the shadow fits. Osamu’s head falls for a moment in exasperation, hung between his shoulders as he snorts, before he takes off his cap to run a hand through his hair. 

“It’s brown again,” you comment abruptly, and his movement stills. 

“Ah,” his eyes brightened with understanding, “I forgot that you’d already left before I dyed it back. Whaddaya think?” 

“It suits you well,” you swallow the lump of guilt forming in your throat, remembering Shinsuke’s words, “everything… all of this, it suits you ‘Samu. You should be proud, and I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch”. 

Like wax to a flame, his face softens into a knowing look. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve all got our own thing going on. Yer here now and that’s what counts so,” — as he ducks to grab something beneath the counter Shinsuke strokes his thumb against your back in soothing circles and heat flashes through your body — “all I ask is you enjoy the food I lovingly made ya”.

He settles a to-go bag on the surface top, and still warm between your palms when you pull it closer. “I’ll be sure to do that,” you return with muted happiness, then glancing up at Shinsuke, “we both will”.

There’s a stilted moment of silence that you immediately pick up on, Osamu’s gaze flickering between the two of you and measuring the lack of distance, a brow raised in obvious suspicion. “What?” you murmur defensively. 

“Nothing’!” he hooks the cap back over his hair, tucking the stray hair behind his ear as he smirks, “just glad to finally see ya together after all that pining in highschool”. 

“It’s— it’s not like that,” you stammer at the implications and attempt to move away from Shinsuke’s proximity only to be kept in place as his fingers squeeze your hip, attention drawn to him as you ask: “right, Shin?”

But Shinsuke says nothing to help, only looking at you from the corner of his eye, the slight squint an obvious giveaway that he’s trying not to appear amused. Flustered, you gently slap his chest and pull away with the food bag tight to your chest, “whatever, I’m leavin’ before this gets cold”. 

Osamu covers his mouth as he laughs, calling out to you as you back away, “oi, make sure you come back again. ‘Tsumu is gonna be so mad he missed ya otherwise”. 

“I will!” you promise. Shinsuke circles around you in your distraction to get the door while lifting a hand to bid Osamu goodbye, the breeze swelling and carrying the smell of rain into the restaurant. Thankfully he hadn’t parked too far from the entrance, and you hasten to walk ahead of him, avoiding his mirth. 

The truck rocks slightly on its axis as you throw yourself into the passenger seat. Pulling the heavy door shut, you place the bag of food between your legs and keep your thighs together to keep the heat from escaping, glaring over at Shinsuke as he buckles his seatbelt. He remains nonplussed and announces “lets get ya home”. 

You find that the drive back is always much quicker, overcome by a sense of déjà vu as you’re taken back down the flattened dirt road leading to the farm, welcomed once again by the Chugoku mountain-scape. By the outhouse you spot a few stray ducks adventuring along the path, wingspans spreading as they’re startled into flight by the oncoming vehicle. 

He comes to a stop, pushing the handbrake down with a resounding click and muttering something under his breath about the wet mud. “Let me get out first an’ check you aren’t gonna sink in them shoes,” he says. 

So you wait, watching in the rear view mirror as he walks around the back of the truck contemplatively, surveying how saturated the soil was after the rainfall. Gripping the handle of the to-go bag as he unlocks your door for you, he offers an arm to help you in getting down. “Doesn’t look too bad here but I’ll have’ta head out and look at the water levels in the paddies,” he continued. 

“You should eat first,” you insist, finally breaking your silence with a thoughtful frown as he lets you down, “maybe we could get our wellies on and eat as we walk?”. 

Shinsuke smiles down at you, black tipped bangs hung low over his eyes. He’d need a haircut soon, you think. “Really getting into the gist of livin’ here, aren’t ya?” there’s an affectionate intonation to his voice, and again you’re met with the urge to kiss him, “let’s do that then. I wonder what he whipped up for us”. 

He leads you to the house unnecessarily with the flimsy excuse of not wanting you to slip, but you don’t want to let go of him either. Whatever has been kindling over the past week — over the many years you’d spent together — seemed to finally be coming to a head. At some point you’d need to confront it. 

After wearing them down your boots no longer leave blisters, the skin of your feet finally used to the constant movement and friction that came with wading through the paddies. Minor things like that are what helps you realise just how big of a change you have made; even the muscles in your back feel stronger, your posture a little straighter, more confident in the way you navigate the land. 

Osamu’s food is just as delicious as you knew it’d be. The rice is fluffy and warm in your mouth, the fillings tangy on your tongue, paired well with the crisp late afternoon air. Before coming here you don’t think you could’ve imagined ever feeling this at home again, not just in any place but inside of yourself. 

Even though it is late into the month of fall, you feel ripened. 

Fortunately, the water in the paddies are barely disturbed and unneeding of attention. You return to the veranda with mud caked around the soles of your boots, sitting along the edge to slip out of them, banging them together over the side to get rid of the excess.  

Shinsuke does the same. “Y’can leave them by the steps. I’ll hose them down later,” he suggests, and you concede. 

“Shin?” you softly call out to him, close at his back as you enter the genkan and gathering your courage, “why didn’t you say anything back there?”

“It’s nice seeing ya a little flustered,” he admits with an easy smile, watching as the back of his shoulders lift into a shrug, “besides, it’d make me a liar”. 

He turns as he notices you have paused in the hallway. “Be clear what you mean by that,” you sound breathless, heart bloated with hope, “please”. 

Anticipation heightens as he comes back to you, steps kept cautious as if he’s wary of your reaction, stopping only a few inches away from you. His adam’s apple bobs, swallowing before he speaks. 

“I mean it’s exactly like that,” he emphasises the words, like he truly wants you to believe them, “I mean it feels as if I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you”. 

Your body slacks with the next exhale, giddiness bubbling in your throat as you laugh, swaying forward into his chest. His arms embrace you, wrapping around your back to hold you upright, and with your ear by his breast you can hear his heartbeat. It’s fast. 

“Even when I’m a mess?” you ask. He hums in affirmation, the vibration of it akin to a purr. 

“Even then”. 

You tilt your head and he meets your gaze, barely a hair between you, so close you could count each eyelash. You’re anxious to touch him but not out of fear, moreso a sense of restlessness, yet you're wary of overstepping; it feels good to see those same emotions reflected back at you. 

“Me too,” you recite his confession back to him, “for as long as I’ve known you”. All the times you’d thought the worst of yourself, he had been there, and he had loved you. 

“Can I kiss you?” his irises are slowly being swallowed by the pupil, tongue dipping to wet his lower lip. You nod with bated breath — there’s nothing you want more. 

He leans forward, lingering as your noses brush awkwardly and he laughs, turning your mouths until they fit. There’s sanctity in the way he kisses you, palms to your cheeks, cradling you as if you really are something precious. 

The first is relatively innocent. You part only to say his name, and it leads him right back to you, this time with lips agape to take you deeper. All the effort put into repressing your yearning over the years springs forward, like a band pulled taut and released. His tongue tentatively licks into your mouth, searching for any discomfort and finding none. 

Your hands lift to grope along the length of his arms to his chest, allowing yourself to touch everything he’d give you. He smiles languidly against your mouth, breathing a laugh into the kiss, and arousal pools honey-thick in your belly. It continues like this —  things like time and surroundings are held in suspension, content just to have and hold one another. 

“Shin,” you sigh happily, the name still muffled by his mouth. 

He pulls away, a soft wet sound as you separate, a hand still cupping your cheek while the other threads into your hair. “Why’d you stop?”

“We should talk about this,” he murmurs, thumb stroking the skin beneath your eye as he ignores your groan, “m’not going any further til we do”.

“Why do you have to be so reasonable?” 

“Because I want to do right by ya”. Cat-like, you turn into his tender touch at the admission. You shouldn’t have expected anything less — it was Shinsuke after all. 

“Where would we start?” you sag with assent, feeling his chest shake as he laughs. 

“How about you tell me what’cha want?” lithe fingers curl to lightly scratch your scalp. The swell of his cheeks are blatantly pink, even under the low light of the sun flooding into the hallway. With enough time to collect your thoughts you manage to count twelve freckles; seven on the left and five on the right. His question is difficult to answer, not because you didn’t have one, but because you still weren’t sure you deserved it. 

Sensing your reluctance, he ducks to kiss your temple and clarifies: “Let’s say just for tonight. Where do you want this to go?”

Thinking in terms of the present was much easier. What you wanted now… all your mind could conjure was him, him, him. You wanted to kiss him again, to see parts of him you’d only ever imagined, to see the tan lines around the thick of his thighs. Still, admitting that was the hard part. 

“I want you,” he exhales an amused huff and you try not to pout, “don’t— you know I’m not good at asking for things”. 

His voice is low, slightly rough where the words are thick in his mouth, a glimmer of hunger beneath half lidded eyes. “Sorry, darlin’. How about I tell you what I want too?” 

You murmur agreeably, the nod of your head feeble. This was such uncharted territory for the both of you, you couldn’t understand how he was being so confident about it. “Tonight I want to make you feel good, an’ then tomorrow I want to wake up to your pretty face in the mornin’. That's it”. 

It was so simple, so honest. The heat in your belly deepens. “Then take me to bed,” you say. 

The futon is somehow softer than you remember, your body rolling back atop the sheets and ruining the perfectly lined edges as Shinsuke follows you to the head of the bed, mumbling sweet nothings into your ear as he goes. He moves the pillows to cushion your head, traversing a path of kisses from your cheek to the curve of your throat, giving no resistance when you pull him back to your mouth. 

The seams gradually seep into one another until your senses are clouded. He’s all you can think about, all you can feel, his weight heavy above you as your bodies rock together in tandem. “You’re so beautiful,” he pants, gently nipping your lower lip between his teeth, “you're sure this is okay?”

“More than okay,” you moan into his mouth as his cock presses tight against your sex, the friction relieving some of the ache, “are you—?”

“Fuck,” he undulates his hips when he feels your thighs tighten. “Yeah. I wanna make you cum on my tongue, can I?”

You stutter out a plea and he moves, a little wide eyed and triumphant. “Let me know if y’need me to stop,” he says, carefully working the material of your pants down your legs and taking your underwear with them, “and make sure to tell me what ya like, right?”

He parts your knees and you throb at the feeling of his breath along your inner thighs, hooking them over his shoulders when he lowers further, hands squeezing appreciatively as he pauses to kiss every piece of you. Wanting to watch his expression, you support yourself on your elbows and see as he loosens his jaw to taste you. 

You shudder at the first roll of his tongue through your folds, relaxed and smooth, followed by a chaste kiss to your clit. He repeats the motions, testing different patterns and pressures. “Got such a sweet pussy,” he breathes, meeting your eyes as he circles your entrance, pressing himself impossibly close and fucking you with his mouth. It sounds so wet, both his spit and your arousal on his chin as he takes his time coaxing you into bliss. 

He’s purposely teasing you, observing your surface reactions and learning what you like just for the opportunity of giving you a little bit at a time. It’s unfairly good, hyper sensitive as your body coils tighter and tighter, yet never enough to crest. Your clit aches and the impatience is enough to set your embarrassment aside, so you reach to spread your folds for him. “Please Shin,” you whine. 

You feel him grin, giddiness bright in his eyes, “don’t worry, I’ll let ya cum sweetheart”. He gently sucks your clit between his lips and your chest rises with your hips as you arch into him, fists curling into the sheets at the push of a finger at your entrance. He sinks into you until you’ve taken him to the knuckle, languid as he strokes them upwards and out, his other hand tightening around your thigh once you begin to squirm. 

As you grow pliant, head tilting back into the pillow, his tongue grows tense and he massages tight circles around your clit with the tip. He finds the right rhythm and repeats it again and again until you’re teetering at the edge, waiting for the final push. His name catches in your throat, pitched and desperate, bearing down onto his wrist feverishly as you reach for it. 

“M’gonna cum,” the warning falls short as you moan, “fuck— Shin, you’re gonna make me cum”. 

He hums, the sound vibrating pleasantly against your clit. Your body seizes for a moment as your orgasm washes over you, back arched like the spine of a bow, and he doesn’t stop; tongue flickering back and forth unremittingly with fingers pumping in and out of your pussy as you pull him in. He keeps you ashore, gradually slowing his movements to guide you through each wave as it passes, until your muscles are completely pliant. 

He lowers your legs back onto the futon, hand slipping beneath your shirt and pushing it up to fold below your breasts, appreciating the length of your stomach as he makes his way to you. “Incredible… looked so beautiful… did so well for me, love,” he kisses each individual praise into your skin until he comes into view, arms braced either side of your head. 

“Still feel okay?” he kisses your lips briefly and you drag him back into another, tasting yourself on his tongue. 

“Yeah. I’m…” you exhale, laughing breathlessly into his mouth, “...you’re unfairly good at that”. 

He joins you, the exhilaration contagious. This was your childhood best friend, and your arousal was on his cheeks. “I’ve had some practice,” he admits in amusement, though there is a faint pinch in his brow when a thought visibly crosses his mind, “you have too, right?”

“I have. Just not for a while,” you reach to smooth out the crease, sending him what you hope is a comforting smile, “my libido was… nonexistent, at some points”.

He shifts on his knees between your legs, cock hard and straining in his jeans, yet his expression is nothing but understanding as he nods. “We can stop now, if ya feel like you’ve had enough,” he says. 

The statement almost makes you cry, overwhelmed not only because of the love that he bathes you in, but because something that should be common decency feels so monumental to you. “No,” you reply quietly, cradling his cheeks in both hands. You don’t think you could ever have enough of him. 

“I want you to fuck me”. 

“I don’t have any condoms,” he warns, “I wasn’t expectin’ this to happen now, so—”

“If you’re comfortable pulling out I’m fine with it,” you gingerly suggest.

While he sits back to take off his shirt you pull your own over your head, discarding it onto the floor beside the futon and crossing your arms across your chest as you wait. The musculature of his abdomen shifts as he bares himself, revealing fine curls of hair between his pecs, more leading from his navel into the waistband of his jeans. 

The groan of relief as he undoes the top button spreads straight to your pussy, thighs squeezed together to smother the feeling only to begin reflexively rubbing them in search of friction. You knew from the clothes he wore that he wasn’t as lean as he’d been in highschool, having gained not only muscle but some fat, too. It made him look broader — thicker.  

It’s hard to shut down that line of thought as it starts. You wonder if he sees you differently too; perhaps you aren’t what he’d pictured you to be, or what he wanted. But with the dulcet call of your name you meet his heated gaze, watching him palm at his cock while he drinks you in.

“Don’t hide yaself,” he moves to gently pry your arms away from your breasts, “look so beautiful laid out for me like this. Wanna see all of you”. 

And with the reverence he directs at you, your insecurities are smothered. “You too Shin,” you wrap your fingers around his cock, still tucked in his briefs, and enjoy how he bucks into the touch. “Let me see all of you, too”.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and he nods as if he were heeding your instruction. Reaching between your bodies, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, dragging the fabric over his cock and down his thighs. 

Saliva pools beneath your tongue at the sight of him. His dick springs back, hard and subtly curved to the left, the tip blushing rouge. The base is covered with neatly trimmed hair, dark rather than silver, and his stomach jumps as you run your finger through it from his stomach to his pelvis. “Even your cock is pretty,” you comment under your breath. 

“I can hear ya,” he murmurs, crowding into your space until skin meets skin, shaping himself around you until he’s the only thing you see. You tilt up your chin wordlessly and he kisses you docile, hands trembling where they’re curled against his chest. His cock is hot against your thigh, and you roll your hips up to encourage him. 

You cinch your legs either side of his waist, feet hooked lazily at his back as you slip your arms around his neck. “Make me feel good like you promised,” you grin. 

Humming with fond amusement he repositions himself, his cock sliding smoothly through your arousal, plucking the soft gasp from your mouth as he bumps against your clit. “I’ve got ya sweetheart,” he lines the tip up and you feel yourself clench in anticipation. 

Swaddled by the weight of his body and supported by the thick plush futon beneath, he sinks into you slowly as if he’s savouring it, just as he does with every meal. Patient as always, he waits a few moments for you to adjust, littering featherlight pecks along the curve of your neck. He feels girthier than he looks, but the stretch is more gratifying than it is painful — the drag of his cock as he pulls out even moreso.

“Fuck, baby,” your hand slides into his hair, cradling the back of his head as he begins to find pace. Your breasts shake with each thrust, nipples pebbling under his touch, attention attracted to the way they bounce. He looks mystified, his jaw relaxed to take each pant as it comes, a deep groan reverberating in the back of his throat. 

You tighten around him and something in his eyes brightens wildly. Excitement, giddiness. He leans his forehead to yours, sharing your breath and swallowing your moans, pushing deeper until he finds the rhythm that has your fingers curling against his scalp. “There?” he mutters, the baritone of his voice echoing through you, “doing so well for me, love. Got no idea how good ya feel”. 

The space between your mouths fills with murmured praises, disjointed curses, the call of his name over and over. He speaks low to you; erring on a whisper, as if they’re only for you to hear, and the intimacy of it settles warm in your chest. 

“Please don’t stop. Keep— just like that,” you gasp as you feel the familiar pull through your centre, simultaneously pliant and coiled while you try to meet his pace. A hand falls heavily at your hip and he holds you still, unrelenting even when he begins to curl into himself, rasping that he’s close. 

“Let me feel you cum on my cock,” he shudders as your thighs tremble at either side of him, nipples grazing the soft hair on his chest as you keen, digging your heels harshly into the small of his back once you feel yourself slip. Pleasure floods through your senses, brows pinched in awe and momentarily weightless as the second orgasm hits you.

“That’s it darlin’. Shit,” you can barely hear him over the blood rushing in your ears, “need to pull out. Feels too— m’gonna cum”. 

“Please,” you blink away the haze as you run your hands along his shoulders and back, relishing the clear desperation in his expression. Your feet unhook, limbless as all rigidity bleeds from your body, and with a final groan he’s able to push himself away from you. 

You barely have time to miss him as he pulls out, left pulsing around emptiness as you ride out the minor aftershocks. Knelt between your legs with a hand fisted around his wet cock and his chin tucked to his sternum, Shinsuke leans over you in haste. After three rough strokes, he cums across your stomach. 

His shoulders rise and fall with exertion, blush tinted with a golden hue from the late afternoon sun. He sags forward onto his clean hand to support his weight over you, and as the clarity returns to his eyes a boyish smile works its way onto his face. He looks smitten — happy. This must be what afterglow is supposed to feel like. 

“That was…” he huffs a laugh, “...incredible”.

You brush the damp hair from his forehead tenderly, incognisant of the cum drying to your skin. Somehow, you think you want to cry again. “Better than you imagined?” you tease, exhaustion befalling you. 

Perceptive as always, he notices. “Better than I ever imagined,” he repeats in agreement, turning to kiss the inside of your wrist where your hand has slipped to cradle his cheek, “you wait here nice an’ sweet and I’ll get’cha cleaned up”. 

You don’t want him to go but you trust him to come back. And he does, swiftly moving through the house with a damp cloth while naked as the day he was born. He must’ve run it under lukewarm water, gentle as he wipes away the mess he made on you. “Feelin’ okay? Are you sore or anything?” he asks. 

“No,” just satiated, you think. Your thoughts are quiet and your limbs are heavy. 

“Yer all worn out,” once satisfied he slips the sheets out from underneath you and covers you up, cloth discarded to the side in favour of running his fingers through your hair, “get some rest, just an hour or so”. 

Already halfway there, you surrender to the inevitable, opening your eyes to glance up at him as you reach for his hand. “Stay?” you mumble. 

He rubs his thumb along the back of your knuckles. “Couldn’t get rid of me if ya tried”. 

His side of the futon is still warm when you wake, but he isn’t there, and the room is dark. You roll onto your back and wince, suddenly feeling some discomfort. Through the sliding doors you hear movement; the sounds of oil in a pan and ceramic cups being set at the table. It spurs you into consciousness and you push away the covers, glancing back to set them neatly by the corners just as he had done before, then make your way to the kitchen after getting dressed. 

You’re met by a light western style dinner, something with egg, though you aren't sure. Still sleep mussed, you kneel and settle onto your cushion with the tatami soft beneath your shins, and as he places your food down he leans to kiss your cheek. The heat lingers there and crawls to the tips of your ears. 

“How can… how can you just do that?”

You’d expected some kind of awkwardness or stumbling, as would be natural on the path from childhood friends to a romantic relationship. There were bends and forks that you no longer needed to be weary of — still, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t instinctively hesitate after all the years of ignoring them. 

But Shinsuke only smiles, warm wrinkles of amusement at your flustered question. His eyes are bright as they meet yours, slightly squinted and sincere as he speaks. 

“It’s easy,” he says, “because it’s you”.

[aphrodites-playroom]

A LITTLE DEATH — Il Dottore

SUMMARY: you never expected the lab you were snooping in to belong to fatui harbinger, il dottore. he never expected a complete stranger to come on to him in exchange for what they were looking for.

WARNINGS: explicit smut. afab!reader but reader is wearing a skirt. top!reader, sub!dottore. virginity loss (dottore). quid pro quo. petnames (sweetheart, pretty boy). oral (m!receiving). orgasm denial. pussy job. overstim. begging. dumbification. unprotected sex. full body orgasm. multiple orgasms. creampie. unedited. no beta.

PAIRING: afab!reader x dottore

WC: 2.6k

A/N: this man has me in a chokehold and i'm not even sorry. i love him so much so enjoy some self indulgent nonsense.

You gritted your teeth as you made your way through the icy halls of Zapolyarny Palace. You had once again gotten into an argument with the man who had taken you in off the streets. Well, really, it was one sided as he tried to calmly explain to you why he didn't think giving you a delusion was a good idea. You'd trained so hard and for so long to just give up on your path to joining the Fatui. 

While you were seething as you searched for the unused laboratory, Pierro was in his office, frowning down at the pile of paperwork in front of him. In your anger you had said things that genuinely hurt him, like that he was trying to be your father and that he never would be. While you didn't mean what you had said, you still spoke those words out loud instead of controlling your emotions. After all, what was he to you if not your father? He practically raised you, took you off the icy roads and gave you shelter, food, warmth. He was there for you when you had nothing, and throwing a tantrum over a dangerous object was the thanks he got in return.

It wasn't as if he didn't recognize the great potential you had, he was just concerned about how the delusion could backfire on you. Yet, you didn't heed his warnings, and were deep in the heart of the palace searching for a way to get your hands on one. It wasn't like you were still a kid either. You were an adult, you could make your own decisions and take risks. You reacted so harshly because you felt that sometimes Pierro still saw you as a child. 

You'd lost count over how long you'd been with him and the Harbingers that stayed in the homeland. So many birthdays had come and gone, and you still had yet to meet a few of them like La Signora and Scaramouche. Although, from what you heard, you may not be missing out on meeting him. It's not like you cared either way. You didn't want to make friends, you wanted to get out of these icy walls. 

That's what led you to the lab, which hadn't been touched in quite some time. Everything was still perfectly placed and organized, or at least that's what it seemed like to you. You'd never been here before, and the thought of combing through the giant room made you want to groan in annoyance. You weren't one for academics. You'd much rather use your fists instead of smarts. This was going to take so long, especially because you had no idea what you were looking for. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, and it pricking your finger as you dug through it would have been a blessing. 

But, you were clueless about half the things you were looking at, and it was taking all you had to not tear everything apart to go through it quicker. The filing cabinets only held important documents and blueprints, no information on where these devices were kept. However, you would not admit defeat. 

Just as you opened the next drawer, it was kicked shut, causing a gasp to fly from your lips as you quickly stood and turned around. You hadn't heard anyone come in, and you thought for sure that you were in deep shit. But, when you saw a man you had never seen before instead of Pierro, you let out a breath of relief.

“It's not right to go through others belongings, little one,” The man stared at you, folding his arms over his chest. “You're a new face. What are you doing snooping in here anyway?”

He was handsome. It was the first thought that had crossed your mind as he spoke, followed by how fitting his voice was for him. You couldn't help but wonder who he was, and why you should tell him what you were doing in the first place. Just as that thought crossed your mind, another hit you. Maybe he could help you. 

“I’m looking for a delusion,” You told him honestly. “The old man said they're too dangerous and won't let me have one. I figured the best place to look was here, but the filing system is a mess.”

He scoffed, “The power of an element will not solve all your problems. In the form of Celestia’s gaze or the form of a delusion. Knowledge is true power, and the filing system deters pests like you from prying into things they don't need to know.”

Suddenly, it clicked. The man in front of you was Dottore, who provided the Fatui with delusions and kept all the nation’s technology up to date. One of the Fatui Harbingers you had yet to meet. 

“Well joining the Fatui without one gets you nowhere,” You fired back. “Why put me through the training just to cut me off? I'm sick of Pierro treating me like I'm still a kid when I haven't been for a long time. I just want him to see that I can handle it.”

Something about how you didn't want to give up what you set your mind to reminded him of himself when he was younger. He hated that, but he remembered what it was like to have aspirations and be told he couldn't reach them. He loathed that feeling even more. But, he wasn't in the mood to deal with Pierro’s wrath if he found out.

“I could get you one,” He mused, a crooked grin stretching across his lips and exposing his sharp teeth. “However, I don't think there's anything you could give me in return.”

You let out a laugh, remembering a time when Pantalone had told you something similar and you still got what you wanted. Men were easy to figure out, and there was always something you could give in return. You placed your hand on his arm, lightly squeezing his bicep, “I wouldn't be too sure about that.”

His eyes flickered to where you were touching him, his breath drawing in sharply because it had been so long since anyone had thought about laying a hand on him in any way. He almost reeled back, but the playful gleam in your eye kept him firmly rooted in his spot. He didn't know what you had in mind as you dragged your fingers down his sleeve, but he was slightly curious until your fingers brushed the top of his dark slacks.

Oh. Your touch brought color to his cheeks, and he swallowed thickly. He opened his mouth, tripping over his words as he questioned, “W-what are you doing?”

You batted your eyes, giving him an innocent smile, “Making it worth your while, can't you tell?”

He could tell, but any coherent thought he had left his mind the second you undid the button on his pants. Out of all his areas of expertise, this was absolutely not one of them. All his time spent on inventions and experiments, this department of research hadn't once crossed his mind. Yet, he didn't even try to stop you as you slipped your hand in between the fabric of his underwear and his skin. 

You let out an airy chuckle once his eyes closed, letting your fingers curl around his already hard cock. His breath wavered, and his adam’s apple bobbed as you ran your thumb along the tip. Just at being touched, he was already putty in your hands. He felt pathetic, oh so pathetic especially because he was in his prime where he was supposed to be composed and put together. With the way he was struggling to keep noise from leaving his mouth, it was apparent to you that you were the first person to ever go this far with him. 

“Let's make a deal, yeah?” You hummed in curiosity, your grip on him staying firm as you ran your hand up and down. “I teach you a few new things and you give me what I want, hm?”

He could only nod his head as his mind spun, barely registering that you were tugging down his pants. You sank to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and teasingly running your tongue along his shaft before swirling it over the tip. A whimper finally pushed past his lips, turning into a choked noise as you finally took him in your mouth. 

His hand flew up to the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair as his thoughts raced. He didn't even know who you were, yet you had him unable to speak or move and he just allowed it to happen without any fight. Not that he would do anything differently if given the chance, because he loved how your mouth felt around him and how the insides of your cheeks glided over his cock with ease. 

From the moment you grabbed his arm, you'd set his skin on fire. Now his head was thrown back, his breath coming out heavy and short all thanks to what your pretty little mouth was doing to him. You were taking him as deep as you could, and he absentmindedly pushed your head down further as he got lost in the sensation. Another whine left his mouth as your free hand cupped his balls, curses falling off his lips and his cock twitching against your cheeks. 

You pulled back, stroking his length and looking up at him. His eyes flew open, a wild look in them as he stared dumbfoundedly. You giggled, “You don't get to cum yet, handsome. Grab that chair and sit down.”

You let him go and stood back up as he did what he was told. He watched as you slid out of your shoes and tights, tossing your underwear aside with them. You straddled his waist, his hands clinging to your hips as you lowered yourself down and grinded against his throbbing cock. You cupped his cheek, giving him a mock pout before rolling your hips again, “Pretty boy’s never been touched like this before, hm? Tell me, does it feel good?”

The moan that left his mouth was the perfect answer. He couldn't form words. His heart was racing and the way you were igniting his skin everywhere you were touching had him shaking. He'd never felt anything like it. It gave him a better rush than discovering missing pieces from his research and left him needing to know more. However, he was so lost in the stimulation that he couldn't think straight. 

“Yeah?” You mused, that cute little giggle of yours appearing once again. It made you seem so innocent, and knowing you were far from it made his dick throb even more than it was. “You want more? You gotta tell me, pretty boy. Use your words.” 

He swallowed again, opening his mouth. Just as he went to speak and say “yes”, that he did want more, you grinded even harder against him. His response came out choked and whiny, his grip on your hips becoming tighter as he instinctively rocked his own. 

“I didn't quite catch that,” you taunted, lips pulling into a smirk as they lightly brushed against his.

He groaned before rasping out, “Fuck. Yes. Please, please.”

You lifted your hips, lining yourself up before sinking down on his cock. You let out a breath, a whine leaving Dottore's mouth as you squeezed him. You were tight, so tight yet you fit him perfectly. He couldn't wrap his head around it, trying to figure out how the human body worked as he experienced it first hand. His eyes closed again, head falling back as he sucked in large breaths. 

You pulled his head back up, capturing his lips as you rolled your body against his. This was just another way two people could fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, and it was yet another thing he'd never done before. He never had the time or the curiosity for it, but he'd have to make it now that he was buried deep inside you and so close to getting off. He hadn't felt this good, this euphoric, in a long time. 

You helped him, cooing and coaxing him until his cock was twitching again. He was throbbing, pulling away as he choked out, “Wanna cum. Let me cum, please. ‘M s’close.”

You nodded, rocking your hips faster as his fingers dug into your skin. The tip of his cock roughly brushed against your cervix, causing cute little whimpers to escape you. He squeezed his eyes shut, warning you once you rode him to his high. Curses left him before you kissed him again, trying to keep him a little quieter because noise carried through the palace. His hold became tighter as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, his cum filling you as you milked it out of him. 

Once his grip loosened, your pace slowed and you broke away. He caught his breath, opening his eyes once he realized you were no longer moving. He wasn't entirely sure how this worked, but he was still hard and you were still wet, and you had yet to get off too. You didn't think he could keep going being so new to this, however he surprised you as his hands moved from your waist to your ass, rocking you forward. 

You gasped, especially as he set the pace to what it was before. He almost smirked at your reaction. He'd always been a quick learner, and he picked this up quickly, bouncing you in his lap. 

“Like this?” He questioned, your arms wrapping around his neck as you tried to get closer. He pushed you all the way down, thrusting his hips upwards. 

You moaned, back slightly arching in response to his actions, “Fuck. Yes, just like that.”

As his cock slid against your tight walls and teased your cervix, he leaned forward and found your lips again. You cried out against him at the sudden shift, squeezing tighter around him as you could feel him brushing up against that sweet spot that made your toes curl. 

“So fuckin’ tight,” he muttered, feeling slightly dizzy as you rubbed him raw. You sucked him back in each time he raised you up, and he was sure to cum again because of it, but he needed you to do so first. “C'mon, sweetheart. I know you're close.”

You were, with the way he was fucking deep into you and pushing you to the edge, you were squeezing him so tight it was hard to keep himself contained. Your legs were shaking, almost unable to support yourself. Just as you started to lose your rhythm, you could feel the tension building up. Dottore thrusted upward while holding you down, rutting in as far as he could as he kept his strokes short. 

“Gonna cum,” you panted, working in tandem with him as you rocked your hips with more force. “D-Dottore– fuck–”

As quickly as that tension built, it dispersed throughout your entire body. Your muscles spasmed, your torso twitching as you clamped down around him and let out a sharp whimper. He grunted, losing control of his hips as his second orgasm came up on him all too quickly. His eyes all but rolled back and his head fell forward to rest on your shoulder as he once again coated your insides with his cum. 

His hot breath fanned against your skin as he sharply inhaled, his arms going limp as you both calmed down from your highs. Your heart was hammering in your chest, your body hot even in the cool air. The two of you sat there for a minute until he finally pulled himself up. 

“So,” you teasingly shifted your weight. “Was that enough or do you need another test run?”

TAGS: @sanzucide @dxlucs @albedophoria @mxnjiros @stygianoir

[aphrodites-playroom]

HOW THEY ACT WHEN THEY’RE NEEDY — GENSHIN IMPACT

feat : diluc, childe, itto, kazuha + xiao

♱ warnings — f!reader, exhibitionism (they’re just horny in public mostly), how they act when they’re needy, teasing, lingering touches, minor dry humping in itto’s.

♱ note — i have done this for like three fandoms already but i rly wanted to do it for genshin so ajgajaka < 3 pls enjoy !!!

・✶ ｡ﾟDILUC RAGNVINDR

diluc really does try his best to hide it, but he makes it so painfully obvious that it’s almost charming. the way his vermillion eyes suddenly can’t seem to hold your gaze as his hair frames the flush that burns the same colour on his cheeks despite the way he’s trying to hide it, swallowing heavy when you bat your eyelashes at him teasingly.

it’s immediate the way diluc’s gaze locks on your figure when you walk through the entrance of angel’s share, you’d known he was working tonight and decided to pay him a little impromptu visit while he worked behind the bar. but what really gets to him, is the pretty little outfit you’re wearing — hips twisting as you walk seductively towards the bar and he almost fumbles with the glass he’s holding before he’s swallowing thick, letting his eyes flick over your body quickly as he clears his throat.

“i wasn’t expecting you.” diluc grunts, his tone low as you let your elbows rest on the bar and you watch the tip of his ears change into a darker shade of red from where his hair is pulled back into a ponytail behind them, suddenly feeling stuffy in his own tavern as he unbuttons another button of his shirt. “well that would ruin the surprise.” you reply and the sweet tone of your voice makes his gloved fingertips twitch before they’re gripping the edge of the bar, eyes half-lidded as he tries to hide the obvious effect you have on him for his customers. “it’s a pleasant one indeed.”

“i just missed you.” you drawl, you’re deliberately teasing him now and diluc’s mind feels cloudy when he finally forces himself to meet your eyes — half lidded and dazed, and he’s even considering closing the tavern early so he can bend you over the stool your sat on now. he’s craving the feeling of sinking into your tight pussy, flipping up the hem of that pretty skirt while you cry for him, begging him to fuck you harder, faster and archons—he’d do whatever you asked of him. “diluc?” you hum again, snapping him from his lewd day dream as he looms over the bar, fingertips flexing dangerously tight into the dark wood as his chest heaves with heavy pants, and he looks at you through his bangs while he tries to ignore the excessive throb of his leaking, heavy cock in his slacks. “i’ll be closing early tonight. but you’ll be joining me, sweetheart.”

・✶ ｡ﾟTARTAGLIA / CHILDE

in ajax’s mind if he was needy, you were going to be too. it’s obvious in the way he suddenly decides to up his efforts when he teases you — pulling you closer, letting his lips linger on your skin longer when he leans into steal a kiss, gloved hands squeezing around your waist when he rocks into you, biting on his lower-lip when his semi-hard cock grazes against your side.

“oh? going somewhere?” you hear childe’s familiar honeyed drawl sound out from behind you before your world feels like it shifts and you’re falling heavy against his chest, suddenly pulled into straddling his lap as he sends you one of his unfortunately handsome smirks that keep you rooted in place. “and so soon?” he asks again but there’s a dip in his tone now that’s he’s closer, the low rumble sounding through his chest and it’s almost embarrassing the effect he has on you when he leans close to graze his lips along your jawline.

you swallow thick when he sends you a narrowed glance, a dangerous glint in his eyes when you feel his gloved hands graze under the hem of your shirt before he hums, letting you melt into his touch before a breathless croon of a laugh is falling from his parted lips and almost dripping through your spine. “what’s gotten you all worked up?” childe hums, but there’s knowing in the tone of his voice that makes your thighs twitch on either side of him, the low sound pulling your eyes to meet his as you give him a slow, lazy blink that makes something catch with his next breath.

“oh, i see.” he speaks once more, but he’s pulling you even closer this time as one of his hands rest around your jaw, fingers tightening into the skin to let him pull you closer until your lips are ghosting his. but what childe doesn’t realise, is this new angle gives him a way — his mind so cloudy with desire that he doesn’t realise that his cheeks are dusting pink, and the abyss that swallows his pupils makes something warm burst along your skin, especially when it’s accompanied by the feeling of his hard cock rocking against your skin, the bulge in his slacks suddenly evident with the way his thighs are spread. “i like that look on your face, so cute.”

・✶ ｡ﾟARATAKI ITTO

he is the most obvious person in the world. not that itto’s even trying to hide it, he doesn’t care as he tries to lure you away into a more secluded area — nibbling on your jawline as he grunts and whines against you, not even trying to cover up the way his heavy bulge is straining and definitely obvious in his pants, stuttering out some excuse about you forgetting to do something.

you knew immediately when you’d approached your oni boyfriend, his gaze dark and almost hungry when it sweeps over you and it’s shameless the way itto’s hands are immediately on you, pulling you tight against his chest as he mouths at your neck. “was just looking for you, baby. remember that, uh—that thing you were talkin’ bout yesterday, yeahhh you know the one!” god—he was so obvious, his hands never ceasing their needy movements along the topography of your hips as he squeezes at your ass, burying a low groan into your skin before he’s pulling you even closer.

“what’re you talking about?” you decide to tease him, but mostly to entertain yourself when you hear the huge, hulking man around you almost whine at your words before he slumps. “baby, come on—you’re telling me you forgot already?” itto tries again, but his movements are getting needier with each word, voice strained through his teeth as he tries to make his desperate want, need for you evident when he’s pressing his chest to yours — your body tight enough against his so that you can feel the way his heavy cock is throbbing against your abdomen, shameless and feral when he groans at the slightest of contact.

“oh! i think i know what you’re talking about now.” you finally deserve to spare him anymore torture, and yourself because you’re pretty sure if you dragged it on any longer he wouldn’t be able to control the way his hips were twitching against your own — chasing any sort of friction against his sensitive, thick cock. “huh? really? you do—i mean, uh.. yeah ofcourse you do, baby! come on, we gotta go, quickquickquick see ya guys!” itto almost slurs, his mind already too cloudy with the desire that twists tight in his abdomen and you almost don’t make it out of view before he’s got you pinned against the nearest wall, rutting his clothed cock against your body like he’s in heat. “could barely hold back, goddamn—think i pulled it off though, the guys have no idea!”

・✶ ｡ﾟKAEDEHARA KAZUHA

kazuha would probably be subtle to other people, to people who didn’t know him but you did and you knew all of his tells whenever it came to you and his insatiable adoration. the way he seems to drift off as he looks at you, eyes half lidded and dazed and you can see the way his chest expands with a deep inhale when your fingers brush along his thigh, making him twitch and tremble.

it’s charming the way kazuha is gazing at you from across the ship, his head propped up against his fist as he leans against the table and his lips only curl softly when you approach him soon after noticing, making him exhale gently when you slide up next to him and he feels the first graze of your thighs against his own. “everything okay?” you ask honestly, and you watch him take a few slow blinks before he’s closing his eyes briefly. “oh, everything is great.” he eventually answers, words breaking off into a dreamy whisper when you inch closer.

“are you sure?” you ask again, suspicious with the flush that paints his cheeks and the tips of his ears but it compliments the red steak of his hair that mixes with the blonde before he giggles. “there is no need to hide anything from you.” kazuha breathes, letting his palm rest against your thigh when it bumps against his own and you notice how warm it feels against your skin when he squeezes, concealing a low whimper with a sigh despite the way his desire for you makes his head spin.

but you always knew his tells, you can see it in his half lidded gaze or in the way his chest trembles with every deep inhale he takes — he’s desperately trying to keep his grip on reality but you make it oh so hard for him, but that only spurs you on. it’s endearing the way kazuha’s lips part at the first graze of your own fingers along his lower abdomen, deliberately teasing along the skin as you watch his throat bob and it was always so cute to see how sensitive he was, how infatuated he was with your touch and you yourself. “y-you’re quite remarkable, we should take this to my room.”

・✶ ｡ﾟXIAO

anyone else would think xiao was in an even worse mood than usual, he’s a little snappier — trying to keep his distance from you or shuffling away when you get to close, but you’re the only person he lets in close enough to see the way his cheeks tint pink or the way he swallows when he feels the soft touch of your skin again his — watching his jaw clench as his eyes squeeze closed.

you can hear xiao’s voice waver when you inch yourself closer to him, a trembling undercurrent to his tone when he tries to hiss out a “cut it out.” but he’s flushed and suddenly too warm under his clothes at the feeling of having you pressed so close. “im not even doing anything.” you reply, feigning ignorance as you cast his a look that’s as convincing as it is pretty, and fuck—he thinks you’re so pretty.

but then xiao feels his cheeks burn brighter before his cock is twitching in his pants and he’s growling, trying to shake you off his arm while he avoids your gaze and if it wasn’t already proven you were mortal he’d be entirely convinced you were a demon, especially when you deliberately let your fingertips trail along his forearm. the featherlight touch drives him crazy, a dizzy spin in his mind when you squeeze at his skin and you hear him click his tongue before he’s frowning down at you, but the way his lips jut out is more cute than anything.

“can i help you with something?” you ask again, voice a honeyed sort of plea that makes xiao’s jaw clench — head falling forward as he takes a few moments to compose himself, to try not to focus on the way the tip of his cock is leaking, throbbing with want and it’s like he can feel the ghost touch of your fingertips along the shaft already when you hum. “shut up.” he bites, but there’s no real malice to his tone when he finally turns to you, chest heaving with his next inhale as your fingertips trail along his thigh and he fucking trembles when you brush against his sensitive cock, followed by a low groan. “it—it is my desire for you that leaves me weak.”

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

[aphrodites-playroom]

𝐢. 𝐈 𝐖𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐔𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐝

✦ kamisato ayato x gn!reader | genshin impact x loosely inspired by the manhwas "i have become the hero's rival" or "your ultimate love rival" and "i raised a black dragon"

✦ tags: isekai!reader, historical manhwa au, royalty au, enemies to reluctant allies to lovers, slow burn, cursing, descriptions of pain and fear (nothing graphic!)

✦ table of contents.

You awake to a world that isn't your own.

It's a ceiling you hardly recognize, one entirely different from the view that greets you everyday. Duvet covers that settle too heavily on your frame. Tassled pillows too frivolous for your tastes. A bed far too spacious with sheer white drapes that hung from the carved wooden posts.

There is an idyllic symphony in the air; a chorus of birds chirping, a stream flowing, bees... buzzing, paired with sunlight that symbolizes an invitation to a new day.

You dreamt often—regardless of the time and place—so this wasn't a complete surprise. Your imagination kept you alive, kept your heart beating so strongly, kept you hopeful when reality was otherwise hopeless.

However, your surroundings and sensations were startingly vivid for you to be truly asleep. Were lucid dreams always this accurate in portraying the likeness of life?

You finally sat up, looking about the room. It was much larger than expected and lavishly decorated with vintage furnishing. Elegant creams, and marbles, and gold-trimmed walls. A balcony that opened to a magnificent view of a garden. It reminded you of a royal's chamber described in those fairytales you used to read as a child.

Still, there was an obvious absence of personal belongings and clutter, as if the space lacked an owner for quite a while.

Your gaze fell on the vanity dresser, complete with an ornate mirror. Looking back, you've never actually glimpsed upon your appearance in a dream. You abandoned the gratifying warmth of the bed in order to satisfy your curiosity, padding barefoot across the room to reach it.

The pearly-glass reflected... you.

A lancing pain pierces your skull, leaving a trail of searing heat down to your spine, and you almost expect yourself to jerk awake. Open your eyes to the world you know.

You don't.

It's as if your head had been split open and now swam in unfathomable waves of pain. Feeling faint, you staggered back, knocking over a nearby table as you attempted to regain your footing. The pile of papers atop it fluttered down to the floor like a flurry of snowflakes, along with a few other objects that tumbled off its surface with a resounding crash.

The door to the bedroom slammed open, accompanied by an alarmed shout of your name. Piercing blue eyes took in your distraught expression, and their beholder lifted his hands in a nonthreatening gesture.

The longer you gaped at the man's sudden arrival, the closer you were brought to the preposterous conclusion that you were familiar with him.

From a different place. From another version of reality.

From... across a screen.

Kamisato Ayato.

Head of the wealthy Kamisato family, and youngest ever to be named Master of the kingdom's magic tower. A born prodigy with an unparalled talent and affinity for magic.

The male lead from a story you had been planning to read.

A fictional character. A person simply conjured from the author's imagination. A man composed of lines scrawled on a page by an artist's hand.

The abrupt headache gradually subsided, and the side where the wood's sharp edge collided with your hip now throbbed into a dull ache, bringing more confusion to you than discomfort.

Everything felt real. Too real.

Ayato calls out for you again. Slow. Soft. Reassuring.

There was no mistaking it this time. He'd called you by your name.

How does he know your identity? And why does he act as if your presence here wasn't at all surprising?

The whole situation seemed outlandish but not unfamiliar. In fact, you've read about this sub-genre of fantasy a hundred times.

A reader from Earth who is suddenly transported into another world. In some cases, this happens through reincarnation. Sometimes, the soul occupies another character or individual already living in that world.

Often, and regrettably, it meant that the said reader had died.

Oh my god.

Were you dead? Had you died in your sleep and got sucked into the novel?

You swallowed, panic beating like a drum inside your chest. You closed your eyes and pinched the flesh of your forearm.

This is fine. Everything's fine. This is all a dream. It has to be. Perhaps if you told yourself this enough, you would eventually wake up and find yourself back home.

"You look as if you'll collapse at any second. I'm going to come closer, alright? It's just me."

Your eyelids flew open, taken aback by Ayato's voice. He stood much nearer now, with his lips pursed in worry and his forehead furrowed with concern.

Shit. You were still here. Stuck. Possibly dead. Oh, god.

The horrifying possibility allowed fear to loosen your tongue, and you blurted out the first thought that came to mind.

"I'm not the person you know!"

Ayato froze in his tracks. He studied you for a moment, as if you were a wild animal, and he was figuring out the best course of action to deal with you.

"What do you mean?" His demeanor had turned frigid, eyeing you with apparent distrust and understandable wariness.

You cursed inwardly. That wasn't exactly the way, nor the words, you'd intended to tell him. Even worse, you had no answer to his question, and the countless more popping up in your mind.

If, somehow, and for whatever absurd reason, you had been transmigrated into this fictional plot—particularly as another character—Ayato's reaction should've been wholly different.

Yet, he used your name. The mirror showed your face. Your voice sounded the same to your ears.

Going by the information you possessed, it seemed more likely that you hadn't inhibited someone else's body.

This was simply you.

Except the male lead acted as if your existence in his world was completely ordinary. Which meant that 'other' you had been living here for a considerable amount of time. How long specifically, you aren't sure.

"I'm not the person you know," you repeated. Blood pounded in your ears. Would it be wise to reveal yourself as a transmigrator so early on?

For plots like these, it was common for the transported reader to take fifty or more chapters before they admitted to being an outlander. Even then, the information was disclosed very selectively. "I—this isn't the world where I'm from. We have the same name, face, and body, but I'm not them."

The air shifts. Becomes overwhelming. Similar to a bottle holding too much pressure within. Completely suffocating. Like you've been gripped by the throat and forced underwater.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Oxygen leaves your lungs, cutting your breath off with a gasp. You fall to your knees and polished shoes step into your swiftly-blurring vision.

Please, wake up.

You craned your neck to the source of the unforeseen change in the atmosphere.

Ayato stood there, looking down on your crumpled, helpless form. Any semblance of the concern he held for you mere moments ago had vanished without a trace. In its place, were wisps of glowing blue light that swirled around his fingers.

"Then what did you do to them?"

Ah, fuck.

— SOMETIME EARLIER —

Exhaustion weighed on your eyelids, but tonight, sleep did not come as easily as you wished it to.

The clock on your phone read 1:57 AM, and for the past two hours, you had settled into a steady rhythm of swiping through several short clips on a social media platform.

You contemplated putting your phone away already when your finger pauses, letting the current video play through its entire duration.

A big bold text in red filled your screen, nearly blinding you. 'New Web Novel Recommendation!' it said. You squinted as it flashed through a series of screenshots from a newly adapted and illustrated web novel that's been circulating through your feed ever since its release.

So far, you've managed to gather a very vague idea of the plot and the notable characters included.

It was a typical romance drama and fantasy narrative. The male lead, Ayato, would spend most of his time trying to protect his sister from the vicious villains who wanted her for themselves.

At some point, the villains force a demon into Ayato's body and consciousness, making his journey all the more challenging. He meets the female lead, a saintess, who offers to assist him with her divine power and save him from fully succumbing to the demon's curse.

Based on reviews and the numerous edits you had come across already, you finally surmised that the story was worth looking into.

Tapping the bookmark button to save the clip, you exited the application and consequently turned your phone off—determined to at least catch a few hours of sleep before the sun rose.

As you nestled deeper under your blanket, you couldn't help but smile. Honestly, nothing would ever compare to the excitement you felt whenever you had the chance to spend an entire day simply reading.

Getting lost in an entirely different world—even if it was only a few hours and pages—was a different kind of bliss.

With that, you drifted off to sleep.

— PRESENT —

Oh god. Any moment longer, and you were certain you would die of asphyxiation.

Considering you were still alive and, you know... not really dead.

"Let me repeat myself,"—Ayato loomed over you. Domineering. Powerful. Perfectly suitable for the lead role—"what did you do to them?"

What in the world were you supposed to say? No matter how hard you tried to rack your brain, you couldn't come up with an explanation yourself.

Would continuing to tell him the truth even be worth it? Come up with some far-fetched excuse? Laugh it off and act as if this was all a prank?

Or should you allow him to kill you? Perhaps crossing your fingers and praying that you returned back to Earth was your best option.

You shuddered.

Nope. No. That would be too risky. For all you knew, this could be your second chance at life already.

More importantly, you needed to figure out a way to calm Ayato down. Still...

How the fuck were you supposed to give him an answer when he was deliberately choking you to death? Also, why would he automatically assume that all of this was your fault?

Your fear morphed into annoyance, and you couldn't hold back the glare you shot up at him. "Let. Me. Speak," you demanded, the words coming out of your throat in a wheeze.

Something akin to surprise flickers in his eyes; then it's gone. A second passes. Then two. Until the heavy weight on your chest, squeezing your lungs, had been lifted.

You greedily took in some air, refusing to back down from his gaze. With your chest still heaving, you rasped, "I don't know what happened to them. To me. I recognize who you are, but not in the way you think."

He crossed his arms. Narrowed his eyes further. "I don't understand."

Great. That makes two of you.

"If I explain it to you, you must promise me that you'll listen." You took a deep breath and spoke in the most pleading tone you were capable of. "And even after I finish, please don't strike me down."

"I'll be the judge of that."

You gripped the carpet rug beneath your fingertips. There was no other choice. Especially when you could tell that Ayato's patience was wearing thin, and the air was getting thicker as he subtly activated his powers once more.

You couldn't die here. Not yet.

"In my world, you're a character from a novel. This world is a fictional story I was supposed to read."

✦ byeol's notes: this chapter is dedicated to my moon @tellerluna-stories (who also came up with the series title!) ♡ without her, this project would've remained buried in self-doubt, anxiety, and fear — never to see the light of day.

thank you for always giving me courage. ily, truly.

✦ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! to reader, you have my love.

[aphrodites-playroom]

a dangerous blossom

albedo x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, aphrodisiac but very consensual, i don't think anything else but let me know if i missed something! this is the first time i've ever written for him so hopefully it's okay

i wrote this as a gift for @dawn-writes7 - thanks for bringing albedo when we play online bby so i get to see his cute face <3 (damn you mona for coming home instead of him)

“what kind of flower is this?” you ask, leaning in closer to inspect the vibrant crimson petals. the flower has yet to bloom, still bundled together holding the secrets of its form but you’ve never seen pedals so deep in color or such thick black horns going all the way down the stem. “it’s beautiful.”

“i’m not sure yet,” albedo says from behind you, his footsteps growing louder as he makes his way over to you. “it was growing near some poppies but it doesn’t seem to be a part of the same species of plant. i’ve been waiting for it to bloom to see what kind of medicinal or poisonous properties it might have once it’s matured.”

he comes to stand next to you while he scribbles words on parchment, still continuing the work he had started before you found your into his cave. the smell of him floats in the air around you, minty and sweet, and you take it in, almost completely forgetting about the flower in front of you. that and his close proximity make the butterflies in your stomach run wild.

albedo always did this to you when he was close but he couldn’t be more oblivious to the liking you’ve taken to him, or if he did notice he never let onto it. of course that’s never stopped you from trying with him; bringing him lunch between commissions because you know he’s working too hard to stop himself for a break, offering your opinions and thoughts to his never ending need for knowledge when you came to his cave in dragonspine or his office. at first it was a want to get to know him more but as time went on and you spent basically all of your free time around him, your want to know him became desire. desire to be close to him, to feel the warmth of him and have him tell you of the things running around in his mind, your own want for knowledge but also, you just really loved the sound of his voice and how lovely it sounded in your ears. while you weren’t sure how he felt for you in return, his welcoming to you and your words were enough to tell you that he did at least enjoy your company.

you bring your fingers up to the flower, lightly running them up the silken pedals.

“please, be careful,” albedo says sweetly as he watches the flower move under your touch.

as if your slightly chilled fingers had coaxed it to bloom, the flower bursts open suddenly. large pedals go in every direction relieving a bright golden center. surprised by the sudden blossoming, you both lean in closer to inspect it and as quickly as it opened up, it releases a puff of pollen into the air. albedos reacts quickly, grabbing your shoulders with gentle force to pull you back but it’s not fast enough to stop the pollen from invalid your senses.

it tickles your nose as you inhale, the air growing warmer down your throat and in your lungs the deeper it goes. your chest burns but it’s not all that unpleasant and you look up at albedo to see if he’s feeling the same. his hands are on his knees, eyes on you; studying you, watching you intently, his lips parted slightly as he breathes in. the sight makes your mouth water.

“are you alright?” he asks, his voice deeper than it normally is. teal eyes remain fixated on you and you can’t help but notice how dark they become as they look up and down your body.

“i think so.”

the heat in your chest spreads throughout your body quickly, your head feels dizzy and you can’t keep his gaze for long. you close your eyes, gulp down the saliva at the back of your throat, anything to help cool you but every movement only seems to make it worse and behind your closed eyes lay only lustfilled images of the alchemist standing before you. your body feels so sensitive, so fucking hot it feels like you might burst into flames but it’s aching the most between your legs.

your eyes trail down his body and even though your own body is screaming to touch what it sees, you wish you hadn’t looked away from his face when you see the incredibly hard bulge straining his pants. the sight has you pushing your legs together but archons you wish you could just stay still. he notices at the exact moment you do and tries to bend and cover himself up.

“y/n.. i- you- ahem- you’ll have to forgive me,” he finally finds his voice but it’s still incredibly hard to speak when all he can focus on is you and the way you’re panting in front of him. if he could find the strength to do anything but force himself not to reach out to you, it’s a sight he’d love to sketch. “i can’t seem to.. it appears this plant is an aphrodisiac.. and a potent one at that.”

your knees melt underneath you, your hands catching you before you hit the ground as you pant and fight for air. the coolness of the ground when it meets your legs does nothing to help how you’re burning up.

albedo wants to reach out to you, help you off the ground and apologize for this outcome but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to stop himself if he gets ahold of you. he’d have to apologize later, for now if one of you didn’t go soon he’d- “one of us should leave.. before i can’t control myself.”

the aching between your legs grows tenfold, you can feel how wet you are as your essence starts to stain your panties. with all your strength you sit up on your legs and look up at him and good archons, does he look incredible. you’ve seen him be happy, curious, his own toned down version of frustrated but never like this, like he wants to devour you. your imagination of him in a senesual situation that came in your daydreams since falling for him was nothing compared to reality.

“don’t wanna..” you say through heavy breaths. you want him to touch you, take you as he pleases. even without the influence of the flowers pollen you wanted that, it just gave you the courage to voice it out loud. “flower or not, i want you albedo.”

“are you certain?”

“yes.”

not a moment later his lips are on yours and he joins you in the ground. they’re soft, cool against your own burning lips and you can’t get enough. every kiss grows deeper than the last and your reach for his coat to pull him closer. his gloves are quickly shed and his bare hands running up the sides of your neck and through your hair feel as though they’re seering your skin and it has you moaning into his mouth.

“y/n.. i don’t think i’ll be able to control myself.” he says against your lips, his kisses slowing only to communicate with you. he doesn’t want you to regret this or hate him for it after the effects of the pollen wear off. “are you truly certain?”

“yes, i’m certain. i- i want you so badly.. please albedo..”

without another word his hands untangle from your hair and move down your back, pressing your chest flush against his and you move your legs to straddle him. his cock is so hard against your core and just a light thrust of your hips through your pants is enough to have you both wanton and moaning. slender hands can’t stop roaming over every inch of your body and your lips only part to breathe.

there’s no will for patience between the two of you and your clothes get shed quickly, most of them finding their way underneath you to keep your body for the frozen ground of dragonspine. the snowy air feels amazing against your burning flesh but it doesn’t stop the heat that only continues to build inside of you with every desperate touch of albedos hands against your bare skin.

you’re a blushing mess but you can’t tear away from his gaze or the perfect body that lay under his clothes.

“you’re beautiful y/n,” he coos from above you, watching his hands trail down your chest, playing with your overly sensitive nipples before going down your stomach. every touch he gives you is so needy and leaves lingering flames in its wake.

you can’t reply, all words you could have said leave your mind at the touch of his fingers on your folds. you’re soaking wet, your juices coating his fingers and only growing more wet with every touch.

he pulls his hand away to grab himself, pumping his cock once before lining it up with entrance. even through uncontrollable lust he finds it hard to not study every reaction coming from you as he eases inside of you inch by inch. every face you make, every movement of your body, every noise that escapes past your pretty lips, he takes it all in and let’s it drive his lust even further.

you’re so fucking tight around him, your walls pulling him in even deeper with every rock of his hips. if he could speak, he’d want to tell you how wonderful you feel but he can’t find the words as he pulls himself almost completely out of your cunt just to slam back in.

the pace is animalistic and desperate but neither of you can find a single ounce of composure or care. all you want to do is feel each other, let the heat in your cores burst. you buck your hips up to meet him, the top of his cock kissing your cervix.

“fuck, albedo!” you cry out. he’s always loved the way you said his name but like this, it drives him crazy in the best way. he grabs your hips, using his strength to pull them up to meet him again and again as he slams into you.

soft blonde locks tickle your forehead when he leans down to your figure and with your hands tangling in his hair, you crash your lips against his with fever. the sound of your kisses, your muffled moans and the lewd noises coming from your dripping cunt echo off the walls of the cave, all of them only growing louder the closer you both get to your climax.

your fingers tug at his hair at a partially hard thrust, accidently pulling his head back in the process. the most sinful, angelic moan sounds from his throat, his fingers on your hips digging into your flesh, sure enough to leave bruises tomorrow and it pushes you over the edge.

your walls pulsate around him, squeeze him for all he’s worth and he can’t hold his own back anymore. quickly he pulls out of you and a desperate whine at the emptiness you feel starts to fall past your lips before your moaning loudly, full once again but this time with his fingers.

sticky hot cum coats your thigh as he pumps his finger in and out of you, letting you ride out your high for as long as possible. he watches from above, unable to decide if your fucked out face or his fingers disappearing in and out of your abused pussy is the best place to look. they’re both such lovely sights.

with heavy, heavy breaths your chest rises and falls and for the first time since the flower bloomed, your mind feels some sense of clarity. your legs begin to shake, his fingers becoming too much when you become over sensitive. his fingers slip from your walls, and again you find yourself hating the emptiness you feel but they find your clit, rubbing in gentle comforting circles.

“albedo..” you say breathlessly and open your eyes to look at him. you aren’t sure what you want to say, perhaps apologize or ask if he’s okay or tell him you don’t want this to be the only time but even if it was, you don’t regret it.

“y/n.. i’d like to show you my feelings for you like this again in a more proper setting, if you’d allow me. perhaps i could even sketch you like this.”

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[aphrodites-playroom]

𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘

≡ suna rintaro x reader

↳ Rintaro’s finally come home. 

tw/cw: unedited. nothing much! just couple of curses and suggestive teasing

✉ : hope you all enjoy (( :

“My ass is sore from sitting too long,” Rintaro grumbled over the phone, where the collar of his zipped puffer jacket covered almost half his face, his breath mildly huffing as he walked out towards baggage claims, hoping that he could process his next steps as fast as he could, and quickly catch a taxi to head back home to you.

Despite not being physically next to him, you still felt his breath tickle against the crook of your neck whenever he would complain when the flight was too long or that the food was bad, muttering under his breath how he couldn’t stretch out his legs and that his teammates snored too loudly, or that he couldn’t get a wink of sleep because you weren’t there, that his pillow just didn’t feel right in his arms, that he missed you — all of you.

“I’ll give it a kiss when I see you,” you teased, smiling at the sound of his comforting soft voice, missing him just as much.

“You better keep your word for it, babe… but, fyi, I haven’t touched you in a good month, so I’m pretty sure I’ll be the one to kiss and massage your body later tonight, no?” Rintaro mindlessly threw out.

Keep reading

[aphrodites-playroom]

STILL THE SAME — MIYA ATSUMU.

“baby, before ya get mad—”

“atsumu, do i even want to hear it?” you sigh, pinching your nose and exhaling. he pouts, looking at you with curled lips and furrowed brows as you stare back unimpressed. 

atsumu asking you not to get mad is almost always a headache-inducing scheme that probably takes a few years off your life, and you’re not really in the mood to test your mortality for your handful of a husband at the moment. but something tells you he’s not going to drop it any time soon, so you simply sigh before motioning for him to continue. 

“okay, i’m ready,” you say warily, “spit it out before i get a migraine.”

“i…uh, i can’t find ma weddin’ ring,” he says quietly, fiddling with his fingers as he refuses to meet your eyes. you blink, processing his words before they really register.

oh. 

and now that you look closely, there’s almost a slight tremble to his lips, the tiniest wobble that he tries to fight back as he meets your eyes with glossy ones of his own. and suddenly, your heart clenches as you take a step forward and cup his cheek.

“aw, tsum,” you murmur, tracing the soft skin of his cheek with your thumb, reaching to pinch his nose affectionately with your other hand, “that’s okay. we can go find you a new one, a fancier one this time now that we have more—”

“but ‘ts not the same,” he sniffles, pouting at you deeper as he leans his face closer into your hand. 

atsumu proposes to you the night before his first msby game, just a young rookie player with the beginning of a career beneath his feet. he accidentally blurts out please marry me when you squeal over his new jersey, and when you pause, shock clear on your face as you shakily whisper that’s not fair, tsum, he pulls out a ring from his pockets like he’s been waiting for this moment for weeks. 

and he has—he’s young and hasn’t even made a decent earning yet, doesn’t even fully know how his credit score works, still calls his mother to ask how to start the laundry machine, but he knows he wants to marry you like he knows the ball will be ready for his teammates to spike as long as he’s on the court. 

so you kiss him in your dingy little living room, tearfully pulling him close after you whisper yes, and he slides the best diamond he can afford with his carefully earned savings onto your finger. it’s the same ring that he’s been trying to lump together enough money to buy, the one he’s had his heart set on for a while now. and when you blow him a small kiss from the bleachers before his turn to serve the next day, the slight glimmer of the ring catching his eye, he brings you home the most service aces of the game. 

and he’s come a long way since then—a starting setter for a v. league division one team, sponsorship offers left and right, magazine covers as a well-known athlete, an olympic champion. you’ve watched him grow, watched him beam proudly as you move into a larger home, one with fancy windows and hardwood floors, but you watch him stay the same atsumu you fall in love with when you’re just figuring out how the world works and where you fall in it. 

he’s still the same atsumu who snores too loud and hogs the blanket, the same atsumu who can’t cook to save his life but makes you the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had, the same atsumu who wears mismatched socks and never checks his pockets before he puts his pants in the laundry. he’s still the same atsumu who calls his brother a scrub but helps clean the onigiri miya tables during closing hours on his way home from practice, the same atsumu who sometimes gets homesick and misses his mom after he calls her every morning, the same atsumu who never falls asleep without pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering i love you no matter how mad you are at each other before bed. 

so you smile, squeeze his cheeks together as he looks at you miserably, pressing scattered kisses across his face like the sun meets your lips with each one. 

“did you check the bathroom counter,” you raise a brow, giggling when his face flushes a light shade of crimson. 

“i might’ve forgotten about that one,” he chuckles sheepishly, “ya might not want ta go in the bedroom for a while—’s a mess in there.”

“you tore up our whole bedroom before checking there?” you roll your eyes, making the pout return from earlier. and he’s still the same atsumu who makes your veins pop and your eyes roll, the same atsumu who’s as stubborn as he is obnoxious, the same atsumu who makes you question your choices at least three times a day—but you think he’s worth it when his eyes meet yours and the breath gets knocked from your lungs. 

“i’ll clean it,” he defends, “ya’ll be able ta eat off the floor when ‘m done in there.”

“we’ll be lucky if we still have a floor anymore when you’re done trying to clean,” you snort, pinching his cheek as he scowls at you. and with a playful roll of his eyes, he plants two warm hands on your waist, familiar and safe as they pull you flush against a sturdy chest. 

miya atsumu, when he kisses you just as sweetly as the first time, as the night he proposes to you, as the day he marries you, as he did last night and the night before that, reminds you just why you said yes all those years ago. 

“don’t be mean,” he grumbles, making you laugh as you wrap your arms around his neck, “if i lose ma ring, ya’ll have no proof ‘m yer husband. what then?”

“then i’ll do this so everyone knows you’re my husband,” you wink cheekily before pressing another kiss to his lips, smiling into them as he melts against you with a soft sigh.

for my love sayu's champagne kisses collab @tahdashii !! sjdsdfh technically it's about a wedding ring instead of an actual wedding but i hope it counts sobsob

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[aphrodites-playroom]

ALL THE NIGHTS WE USED TO LOVE (HOW IT USED TO WAS)

synopsis: every relationship is bound to have arguments. it doesn't mean you love each other any less. angst. hurt/comfort. swearing.

Song: Childs Play (feat. Chance the Rapper) - SZA

“You’re neglecting your responsibilities as a girlfriend.”

You slide your bluelight glasses from your face, pinching the bridge of your nose to smooth out the indents you’re sure they’ve left behind. 

“Responsibilities?” You squint up at him from your place on the couch, eyes stinging from working on an essay the past four hours, “Like what? Cuddling? Back massages? A fucking handjob?

“Precisely all three of those things.” Though his height and overall demeanor allows him to loom over you, the facemask smoothed to his skin makes him look less than threatening, “Come to bed. It’s late.”

“Kiyoomi, it's barely eleven-o-clock.”

“Exactly,” He seethes, the facemask flopping a bit around his mouth, “I’m supposed to be in bed and asleep by ten-thirty!”

“Then get in the bed and go to sleep.” You snort, brushing him off and redirecting your attention to the unfinished google doc on your laptop. It sounds harsher than you intend, but you don’t have the emotional capacity to babysit his emotions right now. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past two hours.”

“And I already said sorry, alright?” You sigh, “Everything is just… a lot right now. Can you please just give me tonight to get this done?”

“No.” Something snaps in Kiyoomi, something ugly and childish stirring in his core. He reaches to shut your laptop closed, your fingers just barely making it out before being smushed. 

Furious, you turn to him, “What the fuck!”

“I’m trying to have a conversation with you and you won’t even look at me.”

“What conversation? I already told you,” You fume, “What part of ‘I’m working’ don’t you understand?”

“You’re always working, though.” he spits, looming over you, “It’s like you’re not even here anymore!” 

“I don’t complain when your job makes you disappear for months at a time,” you say, “I shut the fuck up and support you like a normal girlfriend does. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

“Watch it.” he damn near growls, and something about his tone has you standing to your feet to look him in his face.

“Or what, Kiyoomi?” you challenge, “Or fucking what? Are you threatening me now?” 

“I fucking miss you!” He explodes, “Is that so bad? Is it so evil to want to spend time with my partner?”

“You think I want to do this shit? I don't! I get treated like a doormat every single day, Kiyoomi!” You’re screaming, hot emotions overwhelming you and bubbling out, “But I do it because I’m building a career for myself, a future!”

Kiyoomi goes as still as a statue, studying your expression with a cold calculation you’ve only ever seen him use on the court. Finally, he asks, “And what about us? Our future? Does that matter at all to you?” 

“Are you kidding me? Is that a fucking joke?” You humorously laugh, “Are you giving me an ultimatum right now?”

He opens mouth to speak, but you raise your hand with alarming ease, dismissing him. 

“Actually, save it.” You decide, marching to the coat rack by the door, “I don’t need this right now. I have a fucking paper to write.”

It’s only when you grab your purse does Kiyoomi understand your intention to leave.

“Y/N, please. I’m asking if this even matters to you.” His voice cracks when he speaks, watching you toss on a heavy coat, “Because it feels like I’m more invested than you sometimes.”

“That is not fair.” You whisper, hand frozen on the door handle, “That’s bullshit. After all the shit we’ve gone through? Hell, after all the shit you’ve put me through, you don’t get to stand there and say I don’t care.”

“Can you stop putting words in my mouth?” he says, “Fuck, I’m not saying that’s what’s happening, I’m saying that’s how I feel.” 

You’re breathing hard, like you just ran a marathon. When you don’t respond, he continues, throwing himself down on the couch cushions.

“I feel like I’m… losing you; like you’re slipping through my fingers and there’s nothing I can do but watch. When was the last time we went on a fucking date? When was the last time we had a normal conversation without it blowing up like this?” He sighs, and you see the exhaustion in his eyes. You’re both tired. 

“I just…” He trails off, the last of his anger fizzling into something raw and vulnerable, “I just miss you. That’s it. I miss you, Y/N. All I wanted was to fall asleep next to you. I didn’t mean to blow up on you. I’m sorry.”

His honestly stings worse than if he would have just let the argument escalate. Communication used to be such a struggle for the two of you, and sometimes those old habits come back. You’re both in the wrong, and the realization feels like a slap in the face. The words you used, your tone, your volume–that’s not how you speak to people you love. 

And you do love Kiyoomi, despite everything.

“Don’t apologize when I’m the one who should be sorry.” You whisper, shrugging off your coat and hanging up your purse. You approach him on the sofa, shame heavy in your heart, “You were only trying to look out for me. It wasn’t fair of me to go off on you. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry, Kiyoomi.”

“Are we…” He starts, staring at you with bloodshot eyes. He looks scared. Vulnerable. You wonder how many people had abandoned his younger self, what buried emotions you unearthed, “Are we going to be okay?”

The question hangs in the air, unanswered. Relationships were so much fucking work. They were exhausting, and took a real effort to keep both parties happy.

But they’re worth it. Kiyoomi was worth it.

He’s been there for you, and you for him. He’s seen all your good and all your bad, and still loves you the same. The two of you have struggled hard to create careers for yourself, fighting tooth and nail for even a shred of recognition in your respective fields. It’s been hard on the both of you. And as bills stack and debts pile, it only gets harder.

You grit your teeth. It’s been tough, but the two of you are tougher. You’ve come so far. Love bends, but it won’t break. You won’t let it. It was you two against the world. Always will be. These petty fights would never change that.

Sometimes difficult to like, but always easy to love. He’s fully, wholly, entirely yours. 

And you, his.

“Yes,” You say, and it’s not a lie, “We’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” He nods, eyes still glazed over with an emotion you don’t quite recognize, “We’ll be okay.” 

Your hands find his, pulling him up from the couch, “Let’s go to bed.”

“No, it’s fine.” He deflects with a breathless chuckle, “I know you really need to finish this. I can survive one night alone.”

“I just need to add my sources by noon tomorrow. I’ll be fine.” You say, and Kiyoomi knows you both need this, “Let’s go to bed, baby.”

He caves, following you to the bedroom. He helps you with your skincare. You two will be okay. You both apologize a dozen more times to each other. Kiyoomi laughs when he realizes he’s had a facemask on that entire time. You two will be okay. You tell him you love him, and he says it back to you. He promises to take you out for lunch tomorrow. 

You two will be okay.

[aphrodites-playroom]

❛ THROUGH THE LATE NIGHT ❜ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

previous ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ masterlist ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ next

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ PLOT — getting your hookup’s phone number —an easy task, although being high gets you the wrong number and a stranger’s confusing answer. ushijima wakatoshi, billionaire. how’d you end up texting him from all people? he’s a man of a few words. a man who’s too busy to reciprocate your useless flirting attempts, too busy to concern himself with relationships. you can’t see through him. he’s stern and harsh. too stuck up for you.

curiosity killed the cat. it didn’t kill you, but it sure got you caught up in the middle of something far more dangerous than you could’ve ever expected. the streets of tokyo hide dark secrets and the city you once knew turns into a long forgotten memory.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ PART V — where’s my lawyer?

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ WC — 2.5K WORDS / WARNINGS — very brief mentions of drug & human trafficking, kidnap.

“where are we going?”

“wakatoshi’s office. don’t worry, miss. he won’t murder you! probably.”

truth be told, you’re mortified. you feel like puking, like curling up on the elevator’s floor with anxiety and pure dread stuck down your throat and staying there for eternity. nothing can describe your feelings more than a punch in the stomach. you were hit so hard and you can’t move, nor breathe.

you should’ve run. you should do it right now. the thought hasn’t left your mind since tendō picked you up. (kidnapped) when he opened the door, you thought of sprinting away. but you didn’t. instead, you kept glancing at the tall glass building standing imperiously in front of your very own eyes.

wakatoshi is a stranger and nothing more. you know nothing about him except for the articles you’ve angrily scrolled through on your iphone in search of a concrete answer. who is he?

the CEO of a major real estate company and part of the ushijima clan. but you already knew that.

and the ushijima clan? they’re involved in politics, law, business and real estate plus several other industries.

you’d think they’re normal. but there is no such thing as normality within a clan with such an absurd amount of power and influence. at a second glance and after further investigation, you’ve found out few of them have multiple fraudulent charges. involvement in human and drug trafficking— illegal activities, guilt by association and connections with the mafia.

although a huge majority faced no consequences, useless trials and accusations. they’re all free and roaming around the streets of tokyo with their hands stained.

the media doesn’t cover their corrupt practices enough and you can’t expect less from a clan as powerful. not that you would know. you’re not familiar with clans, nor their activities. but bribing and manipulation– they’re perfect examples of privilege and power. like the snake’s apple rotten to its very core, putrid and flawed just like you would expect it to be. corruption feels like a temptation they were not able to resist and you wonder how many victims their vice and greed have caused.

the very difference is ushijima wakatoshi keeps his life away from the public eye. it feels like he’d been completely excluded and excused from the sins of his clan. a nature he got himself rid off. in appearance, perhaps— and you remember the comments he made yesterday. his past is clear and so is his impeccable public image. no charges stain his reputation and strangely enough, a part of you wishes wakatoshi was nothing like the rest of his clan.

corrupted. dirty.

a man whose morality would cause nothing but destruction and suffering. a complete monster. and a horrid taste of repulsion fills your mouth at the mere thought. it runs through you and you fear its contamination would sicken you to death. but wakatoshi said it himself. his clan has a different approach.

what’s his approach then? when your entire family is so obscenely rotten, how do you become a different man?

the more you think of it, the more nauseous you become, so you stop and you hope tendō can sense your sarcasm.

“good to know. i’m relieved now.”

“relax,” he pats your shoulder a few times, an attempt to ease you off, “i’m just kidding. wakatoshi would never hurt someone like you. unless you really piss him off. which you won’t!”

you’re reminded of the many, many times you got on ushijima’s nerves. bullied him. called him an old man— such insults you deemed justified at the moment, but now, looking in retrospect, messing around with a man like him was not a brilliant idea. at all. but then again, being picked up (kidnapped) by his assistant was not a thing you expected. a real life encounter was not in your schedule.

you let go of the air stuck in your lungs as soon as the elevator doors open, you exhale too fast, maybe too audibly and you hope tendou didn’t hear you. he leads you to a tall, dark door at the end of a corridor in front of which two men are standing, both carrying ar-15 rifles. the freedom you were praying for was just an illusion.

amazing.

tendō is quick to notice your increasing panic “they haven’t used them in a week. only for emergencies, you know.”

“good morning, tendō, miss. put your personal belongings over there. your phone included.” one of them proceeds to body check you.

“what’s all this fuss about? ” you ask and he replies with a dry “microphones.” he opens the massive door and a man so intimidating reveals himself you’re weak in the knees.

“good morning.”

you gulp.

ushijima wakatoshi is an elegant man. you wouldn’t call yourself poor– no, you aren’t. but two worlds separate you and it’s more obvious than ever.

his voice sends shivers down your spine, deep, he stands imposant in front of you, tall and broad, he molds the atmosphere into something intimidating and quite dark.

in a navy suit, ushijima leans against a desk, arms crossed against his chest. he watches every single move you make. you’re a prey caught in the middle of something far beyond your control, a gazelle if you want; and he’s the lion preparing to feast on you. an eagle looking down at its prey.

he looks flawless. he exudes wealth our of every single pore, he’s well-groomed, shaved, he sports a wristwatch on his right hand. the suit, the navy necktie and vest, the white button up hiding underneath— all seem tailored for him, they fit him almost too perfectly and his shoes are polished impeccably. he has the mannerism of an educated, wealthy man, yet natural as if he’s been born to do this. but he’s rather stiff and you can’t help but notice after staring at him with dread in your eyes for a few moments.

his office is of the same refinement, very few baroque paintings decorate the dark walls— a brown, long desk is placed in the middle of the room and behind it, the stunning view suprises you— the sunrise, the skyscraper, the beauty of a city seen from afar. a table coffee made out of dark wood, a brown leather couch and two matching armchair and carpets; a couple of bookshelves and a newspaper abandoned on his table next to a cup of coffee. despite the lack of colour, it’s not as cold as you’d expect it to be. and ushijima looks like the missing piece of a puzzle, he fits perfectly in the middle of the office.

“you seem to lack basic manners. you are supposed to say it back.”

how rude.

“my sincere apologies , mr ushijima. i’ve been too busy preparing for my sentence.” you gulp again, and you hope he’ll spare you the scolding.

“what exactly are you talking about?”

“i’m joking. unless…. you’re actually planning to behead me.”

“i do not have a beheading scheduled for today. have i not told you i do not plan to harm you?”

scheduled. beheading. there is no way he’s being serious.

“before you kidnapped me.”

“i did not kidnap you.” his seriousness is baffling, “i requested your presence.” he argues, convinced he didn’t kindap you. or maybe he’s just incredibly bad at convincing people.

“i think you have no idea what a request means. you kidnapped me. and stalked me.”

“have a seat.” he glances at the nearest leather chair.

“why am i here?”

“sit down.”

“why am i here?” you demand again.

“i need your help.”

“my help? me? from all people, a mere citizen of tokyo, helping you, ushijima wakatoshi?”

“your social position does not equate to your qualities and worth. you underestimate yourself.”

was that a… compliment?

“have i not made myself clear when i told you to have a seat?” he pulls out the chair and this time you listen, “you must sign this non disclosure agreement. you are not permitted to share any of the information i will be telling you today. under no circumstance.”

you feel his gaze piercing through your body like a bullet even when he’s behind you, but he moves immediately. it was enough to be aware of his cologne, the sensation of his body being merely inches away from yours.

“where’s my lawyer? i need a lawyer”

“a lawyer? your demand is completely understandable, but it is just a confidentiality agreement.”

“it was a joke, mr ushijima. what if i did, though? what if i told my dad?”

“i will be adding two beheadings to my schedule.”

is he trying to make a joke?

“he’s not being serious.”

“it was a joke.” he looks at tendō as if he’s waiting for his approval, as if he’s never made a joke in his entire life.

“it’s not funny when you do it.”

“but you should not be signing important contracts without a lawyer.”

almost twenty horrendously slow minutes have passed since ushijima opened his mouth and you dread each second and clock ticking, as if he’s going to erupt, pull out a handgun and shoot you.

tendō left as soon as his boss begun his speech. instead of looking at ushijima, you keep staring at the clock on the wall, tick tock, tick tock, each sound feels heavier than the previous and so do you in that leather chair, your butt hurts and you’re sweating profusely.

never has he raised his voice at you— although intimidating, ushijima’s voice feels plain with almost no inflections. deep, thick and indifferent, direct and lacking emotions, but more empathetic with the minimum of politeness when he offered you coffee— which you hoped was not drugged or poisoned, but you threw a couple of sugar cubes in there and enjoyed it nonetheless instead of refusing. enjoyed is maybe an exaggeration, you tried to accept it while your leg was bouncing, betraying the confidence you presented yourself with.

ushijima wakatoshi needs a girlfriend. a fake girlfriend.

he didn’t shy away from explaining his plan in great detail. being part of a clan is an inescapable obligation and his public image is a weight ushijima holds on both his shoulders now that his family has fucked up (he did not use those exact words) he, on the other hand, prefers to keep his affairs private. and never has ushijima been more concerned, given it’s something he isn’t good at. he confessed in the exact same tone he’s spoken with, flat and unbothered.

he sits in his leather chair right in front of you, forearms on the surface of his desk: beautiful arms and hands with long, thick fingers. well manicured, calloused with a few scratches and almost unnoticeable scars here and there.

ushijima is a very handsome man. tall and masculine, you have the feeling there’s a lot hiding underneath his suit– obviously, his muscles, his sturdy body and, well, something else. it would be a shame not to think of it. and who are you to not surrender to your rawest desires? to think of him shirtless and-

“is there anything wrong with my pants?” he asked at some point and you, caught right in the act reply swiftly, “no, sorry. i was just zoning out.”

“while looking at my pants?”

“i’ll make sure to look at your wristwatch next time, it looks expensive. how much? one million yen?”

“seven.”

why would you think of ushijima shirtless? he’s not your type. he’s too stuck up. but is he handsome? absolutely.

restoring the image of his clan is a task he’s been assigned with. somewhat bothersome, in his opinion— but then again, it’s his responsibility. there’s a certain ounce of respect he keeps in his tone while talking about his clan. after everything they’ve done, he still respects them?

ushijima has been sent a dozen of profiles and he cannot recall the last time he went on a blind date. he is simply too busy. he said he’s not interested when you accidentally texted him and you’re relieved for some reason. that he chose you? maybe. he thought of you as the perfect candidate, of course, it was tendō’s idea and he pondered it for two days.

also he is part of the mafia. and he mentioned it briefly.

as if being part of the mafia is unexceptionally boring and again, no inflections seem to expose his emotions. the company is a façade for his clan to control, own and monitor the tokyo estate industry better and closely. ushijima is not a ceo as much as he is an actor. a part of a ploy which benefits about 90% of his clan and their affairs. he occupies himself with other important matters. (such as?)

he’s become an eligible bachelor, and in his family’s opinion “a (fake) partner and perhaps a future wife would benefit us greatly.” and distract from the ongoing stratagem and boost their image. outside and inside the mafia world. mostly outside.

his clan does not associate itself with the mafia. his family is the mafia. together with very few clans, families and men and people whom they collaborate with. you’d be shocked to find out how many people have come to them in need of help, for them to do the dirty work. their business has rarely been divulged with the outside world. secrecy runs deep within, contracts, bribery, threats and murder keep them hidden under the rug.

that’s why the media rarely talks about his clan if you were to ignore the rumors and gossip. it’s a game of control, if you want. though some people know, they would never open their mouths. if they do, death follows them.

ushijima will give you a contract and a week to read it and make a decision. tendou will be a bodyguard until then and you will live in a temporary apartment. if you sign the contract, you’ll be moving in and live with ushijima.

“i don’t know what to say. will you kill me if i say no?”

“no. you will be free to go. however, if you divulge any of the information i shared with you today, there will be consequences.”

you don’t plan to ask him what consequences, but one can imagine what punishment they will receive for divulging top secret information after signing an NDA with ushijima wakatoshi.

“there is a phone in this envelope. encrypted, a sim card, the contract and a credit card. if you refuse to sign the contract, you can have it back. until then, use this phone. for the sake of your own safety.”

“a credit card?”

“i thought it would be an appropriate gift after today. spend as much as you want until next week. tendō is waiting for you, you should go. have a nice day.”

“will you leave me alone if i don’t sign the contract?”

“yes.”

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ NOTE — almost 2 months later, i’m FINALLY back with part 5 </3 this mafia is very different from the typical yakuza, i’ll explain everything soon !! i loved writing this chapter and i’d love to hear your thoughts <3

likes, reblogs, comments and feedback are all very appreciated 🤍

[aphrodites-playroom]

HEAVEN, I’D LIKE A PIECE OF IT

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ ˖ ♡.*⊹ ⌒ tobio kageyama x f!reader. mdni — nsfw / inexperienced tobio [kwuitest tobi . . .] / making out / nipple play / spit ! drool ! / dry humping / kissing over clothes / tobio finishes in his pants ;> / 1.7k wc ❤︎ masterlist

tobio kageyama is in heaven.

at least, that’s what it feels like— with your teeth gently tugging on his bottom lip, legs caging either side of his hips, and your clothed cunt weighing down heavily on his crotch; he can’t seem to bring himself to paint you as anything but some sort of celestial body.

and it’s his first time in heaven.

it’s the first time his angel of a girlfriend is sat on his lap like this: the lace straps of your tank top sliding off your shoulders and digging into the supple flesh of your arms— the arms that wrap around his neck to pull him closer, closer, until there’s no room for air between your bodies, or your lips. they move languidly against his own— softly, sensually, and each wet smack is decorated with a small whimper that sends a painful throb to his cock.

his eyelids flutter sporadically as you continue to kiss him; he can’t decide as to whether he wants to watch you sitting pretty on his lap and trace his gaze over the curves of your frame in the mirror in front of him, or whether he want to close his eyes and simply just drown in the feel of your lips against his, your head tilting when you move to kiss him deeper.

he's in heaven— on cloud nine, and he doesn’t want to come back down.

perhaps it’s the intimacy of the moment, of your fingers in his hair and your warm breath settling in his lungs that has him harder than ever before, but tobio feels his stomach in his throat— heart pounding with lust and mind racing with fear, embarrassed by the thought that just maybe you can feel his raging boner through the thick fabric of your denim shorts.

“touch me,” your voice pulls him out of his head and you run your hands down the grooves of his biceps and the veins that line his forearms until your fingers find his own, loosening the fist he held before smoothing his palms up your torso to the swell of your chest, squeezing gently, “please, tobi…?” 

the way you say his name is hypnotizing: a soft, needy whine against his lips and he has no choice but to cave in, nodding along obediently with a deep hum when you wrap your fingers around his thumb and run them over your pebbled nipples.

and as if that wasn’t enough to send your boyfriend’s mind reeling, when he feels your tongue dip into his mouth to massage his own, when he feels your saliva mix with his and collect at the swell of his bottom lip— dribbling down his chin in slow, teasing ebbs— he moans: a smooth, drawn-out assonance that travels straight to your clit. 

you can’t help the reciprocated sound that tobio swallows and the slow roll of your hips that follow as you search for friction to ease the tightness that builds up in your core. a mewl pushes past you when you feel his hard-on through your movements, grinding your clothed cunt along the outline of his cock, “feels so good, tobi…”

your sweet keen overwhelms tobio— a heavy dizziness carrying from one ear to the next and the fire in the pit of his stomach burning too bright— he’s sure he won’t be able to control it if you continue your ministrations any longer. 

he doesn’t want to cum— at least, not yet— not until he sinks his cock past your wet folds, deep, until his leaking slit brushes that one sweet spot that makes you arch your chest up into his and you’re calling out his name like it’s some sort of prayer. he can’t cum, he won’t allow it— at least, not until you cream around his cock, tears wetting your cheeks that he can wipe away, kissing you through your high just like you’re kissing him now: slowly, lovingly, reassuringly. 

the thought sends his mind into overdrive, his pulse picking up when he starts to hear it ringing in his ears, and so he pulls his lips away from yours hastily, hiding his face in the nook of your neck. his brows are tightly knitted and his jaw is clenched as his fingertips move from your breasts down to your waist, digging them into the flesh to stop your movements.

“baby?” your voice is sweet, unwavering, but tobio knows you well enough to recognize the trace amounts of concern seeping through.

“i’m fine�� you’re fine, just… need a sec,” he pants headily, pulling you into him impossibly close, until your body sinks into his.

you’re absolutely intoxicating, with the sweet, sugary scent of your perfume and the steady rise and fall of your chest, where he can feel your nipples against his own. his forehead is heavy on your shoulder and he tries to smother the flames burning behind his eyes, tries to ignore the dull ache of his cock as his impending orgasm retracts.

tobio pulls away from your neck and tilts his head towards your lips when he thinks the bright blue fire has subdued to a light flicker, looking up at you through lidded eyes— at the pretty angel sitting on his lap with a halo glowing around her head.

“you’re so sweet…” your palms cup either side of his face, thumb wiping away the remnants of rosy glitter that had fallen from your cheekbones onto his. he sees the way you gaze at him ardently, nothing but love and adoration held in your blown-out pupils before you lean in, lips brushing over his forehead, and then his brows, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and then his chin.

it's staggering— how wanted he feels, how loved. he wants to make you feel the same way too.

your ministrations have blood rushing down to the swell of his cock, his chest caving inwards with a burning desire as he meets you halfway when your lips reach for his.

and it’s the way you kiss him this time around that ignites the fire in his stomach brighter than before— soft, delicate fingers tracing over his cheekbones as you tilt your head and melt your silken lips into his— tiny, satisfied whimpers escaping you when his palms slip under your shirt and run along the smooth expanse of your back, before they slip into your shorts to grope at the soft flesh of your ass.

you grind down into him again— prompted by his warm touch— pulling away ever so slightly to breathe out your wants and needs against his lips.

“wan’ you to fuck me, tobi— wan’ your cum so bad,” you cup your palms over top of his, guiding them from your ass to your tummy, “need it in here.”

there’s no way you don’t know the effect your words and the way you say them has on your boyfriend— it’s beyond torturous— and tobio can’t foil the orgasm that hits him, “f-fuck, i’m—"

before you can ask him what the matter is, he groans— loud and low— into your mouth, a small sound escaping you when he bucks his hips up into you unexpectedly, each painfully erotic thrust of his punctuated by the bounce of your body.

you’re quick to realize what’s going on with him when you feel his open mouth puffing out hot air and choked expletives onto your skin, fingers lightly digging into your back as he fists the fabric of your shirt so tightly you can feel them tremble. you think you can even feel his cock twitching about in his shorts, thick, creamy ropes spilling from his slit;  the thought is dizzying and heats you up, and you can only latch onto tobio’s arms to steady yourself.

and when you look down to where your crotch meets his, you’re greeted by the sight you expect— a dark patch spreading along the thin fabric of tobio’s shorts, the dampness seeping through until you can feel it on the inside of your thighs from where the hem of your shorts had ridden up.

he falls back onto the bed almost instantaneously as he comes down from his high, covering up the growing blush on his cheeks and ears with his forearm, shame settling into his bones while he slowly regains his full consciousness from cumming— hard— shuffling his hips around uncomfortably from the hot, sticky feeling in his pants.

you giggle— a cute, playfully innocent sound that makes tobio’s heart swell— as you bring his hand up to your lips to place a long kiss to his palms, trailing them up his fingers before you lean over him and lay another one to the underside of his jaw. he groans when you wiggle your cunt over his still-aching cock— you can tell he wants more.

and you’ll give him more, you'd give him anything he wanted— lifting yourself up off his lap, sinking onto your knees in between his spread legs and running your palms up his sinewy thighs, biting your tongue to hold back a moan from how he tenses under you and how his hands almost instinctively find their way to your hair.

kisses follow in the trail of your warm touch: a kiss to his knee, another one halfway up the inside of his thigh— where his skin meets the mesh of his shorts— and a final one to the bulge of his crotch, wet salt spreading over your lips that you lick up and swallow with a satisfied hum, smiling at how his hips roll up into the air.

“can i clean you up, baby?”

he peeks down at you when your voice reaches his ears— blissed out, but not blissed out enough— and he thinks maybe that was a mistake, because when you let a glob of spit fall from your lips onto the outline of his cock over his shorts and lean down to lick it off— the white glow of your halo shining brighter than ever— he thinks he just might cum again.

thamks for reading i hope you luvd it (⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝) ❤︎ comments + reblobs + feedback of any kind are supa dupa appreciated!

🍋 — @getosbunny @httphaitani @atsumeii @pastelpixies @kentoangel @miyasann @sleepy3 @dazvia @allie-mcginn @anitavalore @134340am @kitty-kair @crescentkaze @pinky-glitz

[aphrodites-playroom]

☁️ 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊! — an anthology | wc: 4.2k

feat: albedo + diluc + itto + tartaglia + thoma

cw: afab!gn!reader (pussy + cunt + clit + cervix + labia are used to describe genitalia), overstimulation, oral sex (reader receiving), mild monsterfucking + facesitting (itto), impled subspace + mentions of a safeword / safe gesture (thoma), further content warnings included prior to each character’s section

a/n: i love when my men get a little fucked out on pussy… can i get a yeah boiiii!!!

minors, i DO NOT CONSENT to you interacting with me. 18+ only, please.

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