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serpentandlily · 2 years ago

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Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Reader

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: use of the nickname bunny

Based on THIS request.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

Gods, you were going to be in so much trouble. You kept your fast pace as you walked through the woods, keeping your eye out for anything, anything, that might help you. The only reason you even knew where you were was the red and golden leaves adorning the trees, the scent of cinnamon and rain hanging in the crisp air. Autumn. You were in the Autumn Court.

You had just been practicing winnowing with Rhys, your brother-in-law. Since the war ended, the Inner Circle was finally spending more time helping you learn your magic. You had wanted to learn, to do more, ever since you had been turned fae, tossed in the cauldron like your sisters.

But being the youngest meant also having to take a back seat sometimes. Feyre and Nesta never let you do anything. Never let you help in any way. Not much changed after you had been turned fae.

The sound of dogs howling made you pause in your tracks. You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. They could be farm dogs, it could mean that someone was nearby, someone who could help you.

But you knew of the type of fae in the Autumn Court and it could also be someone who’d try to hurt you. You bit your lip, finally deciding to make a run for it as the howling got closer.

You took off down a line of trees, pushing yourself to run as fast as you could to create some distance between you and the pack of dogs. But a few stumbles over fallen branches and you could hear the pounding of their paws not far behind you.

A bark had you looking over your shoulder, cursing as you saw the hounds close behind. They yelped with excitement as they caught sight of you, picking up their pace.

Pain, awful, debilitating pain, rushed through your leg and you screamed, falling to the ground. You flipped yourself over to see your foot stuck in the claws of a bear trap, the metal prongs piercing through your skin. You cursed as you realized they must’ve been herding you here.

You let out another cry as you forced yourself to sit up and scoot closer to the trap. The dogs were still running at you and you desperately tried to yank the trap apart, to free your foot.

It was no use; the dogs were too fast. Faster than any dogs you’d ever encountered. You could do nothing but throw your arms over your face and scream, hoping someone would hear you before you were mauled to death by a pack of dogs.

To your utter shock, the feeling of teeth ripping into your flesh never came. You slowly put your arms down to see twelve hounds running in a circle around you, yapping and howling into the air. Each one gray and sleek like smoke.

Footsteps coming from behind you had you whipping around, eyes wide. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of a male. A very handsome male with silky red hair, whiskey amber eyes, and pale skin. He was tall, lithe, but he had the top three buttons of his shirt undone, giving you a glimpse of the muscles beneath.

The cobalt coat he wore was finely crafted, along with his pants and shoes. The haughty expression on his face told you exactly who you were looking at—Eris, the Heir of Autumn.

You swallowed audibly as he smirked down at you, coming to a halt a few paces away.

“Well what do we have here?” His voice was smooth like silk and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You said nothing as he let out a sharp whistle and the hounds circling you halted before running to his side. They sat behind him like perfect little guards, their unusual eyes still on you. You looked back up at the male, who had just stumbled upon you, trapped. He walked around your form, much like his hounds had been doing.

You couldn’t find any words. Mostly because of the pain of the bear trap ripping through your shin and foot. But also because you had only really ever heard horror stories about Eris—about his cruelty and cunning nature.

Eris’s fox-like face smirked down at you in amusement. “My hounds seem to have herded a little bunny into one of my traps. Do you have a name, bunny?”

Should you tell him who you were? That you were one of the Archeron sisters, that you were from the Night Court? You knew briefly through listening in on Feyre’s conversations that they considered Eris an ally. But they also said he could hardly be trusted.

“Does the little bunny not have a voice?” Eris purred, still circling around you like a predator playing with its food. “Hm, let me guess. The golden brown hair and the big, brown doe eyes that look incredibly similar to my brother’s mate’s…Have I trapped an Archeron?”

You used the sleeve of your dress to wipe at the tear tracks on your cheeks. You tried to back away from him, but the movement only jostled your leg, causing a small whimper to escape your throat.

“I-I’m not sure how I ended up here, my Lord,” you mumbled. Gods, you felt pathetic. “Can you p-please help me?”

Eris tilted his head at you, in an animalistic way you still weren’t used to with the fae. He studied you for a moment before another smirk bloomed on his handsome fox-like face. He was picturesque with his disarming beauty.

“You see, I think this is all a bit unfair. You seem to know who I am, but you still haven’t told me your name, little bunny.” He knelt down next to you, reaching a gloved hand out to push some of your hair from your face.

It should’ve alarmed you, his closeness, the touch of his hand. But for some reason, it didn’t. You swallowed again, considering your options. Maybe he would help you get home.

“I’m one of Feyre’s sisters,” you managed to stutter out.

“Is that so?” He seemed to be enjoying this. “And what is the name of the bunny I’ve managed to trap?”

You mumbled your name out loud, glancing around the meadow you were in, at the hounds that were now all laying down, still staring at you. You blinked at them and the biggest one, the leader of the pack, stood suddenly. You kept your eyes trained on her as she marched over to you, shaking as you examined her large head, her jaw that could easily rip your throat out.

But to your surprise, she merely meandered over to you and brushed her head against yours, letting out a low whine. Your eyes widened, looking over at Eris for a second to see a flicker of shock cross his face. The hound let out a small yip before licking the side of your face, drawing out a surprised giggle from you. Was she trying to…comfort you?

“Ashera,” Eris said sternly with a snap of the fingers. But the hound merely glanced at him and then went back to nudging you with her fluffy head.

You raised a shaky hand and stroked her back, bewildered by the dog's behavior. She licked you up the side of your face again and Eris said her name a little louder this time, making her ears twitch. She whined at him but listened, going back to the other dogs.

“I didn’t know there was a fourth Archeron sister. Where have they been hiding you?” Eris asked, drawing your attention back to him. “And why?”

You shrugged your shoulders. Had they been hiding you? No one has ever mentioned keeping you a secret. “I-I don’t know.”

He waved a hand in the air, summoning a piece of parchment and pen. He quickly scribbled something on it before flicking it away. You watched it disappear with awe, still taken aback by the use of magic.

Eris seemed to remember you were still stuck. He let out a sigh and placed his hands on both sides of the trap. He paused to look at you. “Sorry, little bunny, but this is going to hurt.”

And then he pulled the trap apart with his bare hands. You let out a loud cry as the metal spikes were pulled out of your leg. You whimpered, pulling your knee to your chest as you examined the damage to your shin.

Blood was now gushing from the wounds that circled around your shin. You grabbed some of your skirt in your hand, intending to use it to put pressure on the wounds but Eris’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed. “Are you dumb? Your skirt is covered in dirt and mud. You’ll only infect it.”

Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment. He reached a hand towards you but now free from the trap, you scrambled away from him with a whimper. He let out an amused chuckle.

“No need to be frightened, little bunny,” he purred. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You looked at him warily as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dangling it in the air between the two of you. You swallowed audibly but didn’t move as he approached again and wrapped it around your ankle as a makeshift gauze.

He hummed, standing up and brushing invisible dirt from his pants. “Now, are you going to tell me why exactly an Archeron is in my court?”

“I was learning how to winnow. I-I don’t know how I ended up here. One minute I was in Velaris and then next, I was here.”

He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Interesting. Well, come on. Let’s get to Spring so someone can come retrieve you before you get yourself killed.”

Eris held at his gloved hand to you. You took it, letting him help you rise from the ground, trying to keep weight off your injured ankle. As soon as you were up, he winnowed the two of you away.

A moment later, you appeared on the border of Autumn and Spring. You would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for Eris grabbing you by the upper arm. You blushed, muttering a small thank you.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to walk the rest of the way so we don’t set off any wards that will alert my father,” Eris said, coolly.

He set off and you trailed after him, hobbling slowly because of your injury. You only made it a few paces before Eris turned around.

“Hurry it up, bunny, I don’t have all day.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Sorry, it’s a little hard to walk considering my foot was just in a bear trap.”

Eris tsked, looking down at your ankle before his eyes trailed up your form. He let out a sigh and strided back to you. Before you could even figure out what he was doing, he grabbed you by the waist and tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You squeaked in surprise. “What are you doing?! Put me down!”

“Like I said, I don’t have all day,” Eris said, stalking off towards the border to Spring. You jostled on his shoulder with each step he took but he held you firmly with an arm around your thighs like you weighed absolutely nothing.

You pounded on his back with your fists. “Ugh, Let me down!”

“You even hit with the strength of a rabbit,” Eris laughed to himself, ignoring your attempts to free yourself from his hold.

“Jerk,” you scoffed, crossing your arms as you dangled there.

Eris just laughed again. You bickered with him all the way to a clearing where he finally came to a stop and put you down. You huffed, smoothing down your dress and hair as you glared up at him.

“You’re welcome,” he purred with an arrogant smile.

The shadows around the clearing seemed to move in a flurry and then a familiar face stepped out of the darkness.

“Get away from her,” Azriel growled at Eris.

Eris held his hands up, that smile never leaving his face as Azriel stalked towards you. His eyes narrowed as he sniffed, smelling the blood on you.

“Did he hurt you?” Azriel asked, his tone dark. He grabbed you by the arm and yanked you to his side, causing you to stumble.

Before you could even open your mouth, Eris cut in.

“Must you have such a low opinion of me, shadowsinger.” Eris wore that fox-like grin again. “I haven’t harmed a single hair on her head.”

Azriel looked to you, waiting for you to verify his story.

“He speaks the truth, Azriel,” you said, clutching your ankle. “I ran into a bear trap on my own. He helped me out of it and brought me here.”

“And why were you running?” Azriel tossed Eris a glare.

“His d-dogs scared me. But they’re friendly,” you replied, trying to ease the tension in the air.

Eris scoffed, as if no one had ever referred to his hounds as friendly before.

Azriel looked at you with exasperation. “Come on, let’s get you home. No need to linger here.” He glared at Eris one last time.

Before you could protest, he hoisted you up into his arms. You glanced at Eris one last time to see a moment of shock cross his face as he met your gaze.

“Thank you,” you called out as you gave him a small wave before you were swept away in the shadows.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You didn’t see Eris again for months. Not until Winter Solstice, when it had been decided that Nesta would try to intrigue him enough to keep him as a steady ally. When Elain had declared that she was going to join the Inner Circle in the Court of Nightmares, you had demanded to be taken as well, despite arguments from nearly everyone. But you were tired of being treated like a baby.

You had gotten your way in the end, after agreeing to strict orders to stay at the foot of the dais the entire time. It wasn’t ideal but it was something…better than staying home.

You were dressed in a black tulle, A-line gown. The bodice was sheer but adorned with lace appliques embedded with shining silver gems. It had a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder lace straps. It swept the floor with tulle and lace, pooling at your feet like dark water. It was beautiful, more girlish than the dress Nesta was wearing but not as plain as Elain’s modest, long-sleeved dress.

You stood at the bottom of the dais next to your sisters, between the two Illyrian warriors, as your sister addressed the crowd. Eris was standing next to Keir at the head of the gathered crowd, dressed in Night Court black himself. It was hard to deny how truly beautiful he was—especially with his striking red hair contrasting the black so well. You could feel his eyes on you from time to time but kept your gaze forward.

“May the blessings of the Winter Solstice be upon you,” Feyre declared.

Keir was the first to approach with a low bow. “Allow me to extend my congratulations.”

“And allow me to extend mine as well, on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court.” Eris had stalked forward as well, giving your sister a pretty, cultivated smile. “He shall be thrilled by the news.”

“I’m sure he will.” Rhys kept his eyes trained on the Autumn Heir. “Music!”

An orchestra began playing and Feyre raised her voice and said, “Go—eat.”

The crowd slowly began to dissipate. Keir also disappeared as half the crowd began to dance seamlessly to the music.

“Before you join the merriment, Eris,” Rhys drawled. “I’d like to present you with your Solstice gift.”

You tuned out the conversation, taking in the rest of the throne room. It was your first time here in Hewn City. It was as monstrous as expected. But beautiful still, in the dark way that screamed Night.

You tuned back into the conversation just as Feyre spoke, “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me unwell enough that I worry about what so much spinning would do to my stomach.”

She looked at the three of you, as if deciding who she would offer to the Heir of Autumn even though it had already been decided. Elain gave a passable impression of appearing interested, as she had been directed to. Nesta just looked bored. Rhys and Feyre had given you no direction, claiming Eris would be tempted more by power and a wide-eyed, young girl, as they had called you, would not be of interest to him.

“My oldest sister shall take my place.”

But it was like Eris hadn’t heard Feyre speak as he stepped forward and stopped in front of you, not Nesta. You blinked at him, your brows raising with confusion as he extended his hand to you, an open invitation.

“I’ll take the little bunny,” Eris purred with that fox-like grin. He kept his amber eyes on you, not looking towards Feyre despite speaking to her. “If the Lady agrees, of course.”

“I-I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the dances, my Lord,” you said, politely, ignoring the hand outstretched to you as your cheeks turned red at the attention.

Eris didn’t back down. “That’s quite alright. I’ve been told I’m a good lead.”

You glanced at Feyre and Rhys, uncertain of what you were supposed to do. This wasn’t the plan. Eris was never supposed to take interest in you. You were a speck of dust compared to the power rolling off Nesta—power, the only thing he was supposed to care about.

You felt talons scrape your mind and let your sister in.

Just go with it for now. We’ll send in Azriel to take over before it goes too far.

You slipped your hand in Eris’s hold and let him escort you to the dance floor just as the dance finished and the introductory strains of the next began. You couldn’t wipe the wide-eyed look off your face as much as you tried to. You placed your free hand on his shoulder just as his broad hand slid around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

You blushed, somehow turning even more red than you already had been.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear just as the violins began their song.

“And so the fox ensnares the bunny again.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Stop calling me that.”

“Why?” he purred, beginning to lead you into the dance. “It just seems so fitting.”

“It’s not,” you grumbled, trying not to stumble over your own feet. You were lucky that this waltz was similar to the one from the human lands or else you would have surely embarrassed yourself already.

The pair of you finished your first rotation around the dance floor in silence but that smirk never seemed to leave Eris’s face to your annoyance. Flame simmered in his eyes, never leaving yours for a second. You felt something flutter in your chest.

“So,” Eris finally spoke. “Have your owners finally let you out of your cage?”

“I am not caged here,” you murmured. “Just because they don’t find you pleasant company, doesn’t mean I haven’t been allowed around others.”

You snapped your mouth shut, a brief wave of horror passing through you. You had just insulted him. You had just done the opposite of what was supposed to be happening tonight. But to your surprise, Eris just chuckled, not seeming offended at all.

“Do you find me unpleasant, Lady?”

“I remain undecided, my Lord,” you said. “Though everyone certainly has a lot to say about you.”

“What lies have they told you about me, sweetheart?” He twirled your around again, your skirt swishing in the air. A faint fluttering of butterflies grew in your stomach.

“What are these lies you speak of, my Lord?”

You tried to channel your sister but it came out so wrong. You didn’t sound as aloof as her. Nor as cold.

“Don’t try to play the game they want you to.” Eris’s smirk grew into a grin. “It does not suit you, bunny.”

“Maybe if you stopped playing games, I wouldn’t feel the need to as well,” you muttered with a frown. Eris’s grin sharpened.

You were failing at this task. Failing so profoundly that it was embarrassing. You hoped your family couldn’t hear this conversation.

“This is not a game to me, little bunny,” Eris purred, his grip around your waist tightening. “None of it is.”

“Your behavior seems to say otherwise. So does your reputation.”

“Do I not ally myself with this court under constant threat of being discovered and killed by my father? Do I not offer aid whenever Rhysand wishes?”

“That matters little to me, my Lord,” you said. “I am not a piece on this political chessboard you seem to have with Rhysand.”

“So what matters to you, Y/n?” Eris kept pace with the other dancers and you followed his lead as best as you could. “Tell me. I wish to know.”

Your hand slipped from his shoulder, down to his chest and right over his beating heart. “This. This is what matters to me. I would rather someone good of heart over someone with power.”

“How sweet,” Eris teased. “How naive.”

“Gods forbid someone be hopeful for the goodness of people to be the change in this world,” you bristled.

To your surprise, Eris merely smirked once again. “Goodness cannot exist amongst cruelty, sweetheart. Just as hope cannot exist under the burden of responsibility.”

You studied him closely. “Aren’t you tired of putting on a show, Eris? I have seen monsters. You do not seem like one of them.”

Eris yanked you closer and your heart began to pound in your chest. “Then I’d say you haven’t seen enough of the world and its monsters if you truly believe that, bunny.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Wide-eyed, fluffy tailed,” Eris listed off, his fox-like grin returning. “Still has hope that she can change the world. I have seen this story, sweetheart. I know how it ends. Perhaps it would be best for you to return to your safe, little burrow where you belong.”

A wave of anger crashed into you, your body heating up.

“You don’t get to tell me where I belong. No one does,” you huffed. “Especially not a jerk who doesn’t have dreams of his own and lets everyone else dictate who he is!”

Eris didn’t seem perturbed by your impassioned speech. If anything, his grin seemed to grow. You hadn’t even realized the song had ended and that the two of you had come to a halt on the edge of the dance floor, too lost in your anger.

“You’re just going to have to learn the hard way, sweetheart. You think having dreams and hope makes you something but it doesn’t. It can’t.” Your hand dropped from his chest as he brought the one he was holding up to his lips. “You are only ever going to be what others think you are.”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before letting it fall to your side.

“Sly fox.” He pointed to himself before turning his hand to you in a sweeping gesture. “Dumb bunny.”

“I am not a dumb bunny,” you growled.

“Right,” he drawled in a teasing manner that infuriated you. “And you are definitely not caged here, either.”

Your eyes widened as he strode away from you, disappearing in the crowd but not before he tossed one last remark over his shoulder, “I’ll catch you later, bunny.”

You stared at his back as a scarred hand landed on your shoulder with a firm grip, knocking you out of your stupor. You looked up at Azriel, at his cold, unreadable face that stared down at you.

“Come on,” he murmured. “I’ve been ordered to take you back home.”

And just like that, your night–and freedom—was over. Eris’s words and his stupidly handsome face haunted you the entire journey back to Velaris.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris x you #eris x y/n #autumn court #eris fanfic #eris imagine #acosf #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fic

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yandere-wishes · 4 months ago

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｡ ₊°༺Meet me at our spot༻°₊ ｡

｡ ₊°༺Meet Me At Our Spot By The Anxiety༻°₊ ｡

જ⁀➴ Lost the ask for this but hopefully the Anon sees this and knows it's for them: excitedly chewing on legos OMG NO cause this is so juicy, like let me just rip out Jason's heart for a sec. Let me fill him with rage and break his heart a little.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ When Jason dies, he leaves a hole in your heart. One that you're certain the Red Hood can mend.

ᗢ=♡=ᗢ=♡=ᗢ=♡=ᗢ=♡=ᗢ=♡=ᗢ=♡=♡=ᗢ=♡

Your sister doesn't appreciate the little bird that follows her like a shadow.

She says his presence is like an eclipse, an eerie, tiring thing.

Some day she'll miss the repartee, the attention, the "friend" she made along the way, someday when the boy lays in a coffin six feet deep, as little birds tend to do. She'll realize that he took a part of her with him. Buried beneath the earth, left to rot and waste.

Of course, she only grows more frustrated when you say such things.

When you remind her how fleeting and fragile this life is.

He was the happiest of them all. Cheerful little bird following his father through the shadows, chirping in joy as he skipped to echolocation. Playing with a naive kitty who never fully understood that they were meant to be enemies.

It's funny looking back, realizing how fickle children truly are. How you used to joke so earnestly about eating him whole and plucking his feathers from between your teeth. As you both sat on a skyscraper's edge sharing a juice box. Jason would laugh, would throw his head back, and kick his legs.

"That'll just mean we'd be together forever. I can haunt you from the inside."

You do truly wish it had been you that had killed him. That you had gotten the chance to peel the meat from his bones and savor their flavor upon your tongue. You would have enjoyed the crunch and pop of the cobalt between your teeth. Enjoyed finally, finally being able to crack open his skull and unburden him of his terrors.

But in the end, the kitty cat never reached the robin.

No, it was in fact the clown that gobbled him whole.

There's a part of depression that's relatively saccharine. The isolation and the silver of worry you feel, sweating off people when they note the vibrations of melancholy you emit. You see your mother's concern and your sister's vexation. You like how it makes you feel powerful. Like a divine decree to burn and kill. But you never do go after the clown. Your mother had forbidden such fruitless endeavors.

"I don't need you in a coffin as well".

Still, you long to wring the Joker's neck between your claws.

You had met him in the dark of an alley almost three months ago.

Requiem is held here often, in the shadow of your skyscraper. The armistice sanctuary where the two of you had spent the final quarter of your nights. No war, no fighting, just two kids in masks lying in the moon's gentle rays.

Your bag of jewels slumps over your shoulder. It feels like the weight of the world.

In the dark, a red thing moves. The ground shakes under his steps as the gloom slips off his body. He is rejected by the dark and unwanted by the light. "What you got in the bag Kitty Cat?" his voice is distorted, like an echo escaping a pit.

You jump, clawing for his arm upon descent, but the fabric he wears is too thick, the attack never reaches his skin. He uses your confusion to land a kick between your ribs. You slid over the concrete street, friction slivering the side of your uniform and the flesh beneath. When you look up again, he's seized the jewels and is halfway through scaling a nearby building. He turns to you, the white eyes of his mask sink into the crevasses of your soul. His fingers touch the side of his masked head in a mock salute.

"Haven't lost your touch sweetheart"

You spend most of the day sleeping in the sun, the only bearable thing left to do. You dream in shades of sugar plums and lilies. Sweet things that keep the bitter nightmares away.

It's gotten so hard to wake up lately.

So hard to stay awake.

Batman once told you that time heals all wounds. Maybe when you're older you'll forget the frantic patter of your heart when Jason smiled at you.

A shadow blocks the sun, making you stir. Red menace that bears death like a perfume. When you look at him, your body chills. You choke on foreign nostalgia. Deja vu pricks at your bones trying to engrave itself upon the marrow. Why does the Red Hood feel like a forgotten memory? Like a lullaby, your mother used to sing.

He doesn't leave, he just stares. Unblinking white lights instead of eyeballs. Trained on your body. You feel naked under his gaze. It's almost as if he's torn you apart and memorized every little detail about you. Refusing to sew you up again. He leaves you an open cadaver for his cruel entertainment.

Hours pass, he only ever stares.

You've stopped sleeping since that day.

His ghost haunts you. Flickering in the moonlight as you sink beside an alley wall. When you look up, Jason is there beaming down at you. Jejune, unscarred in every way. You feel phantom kisses across your knuckles.

Just a street cat and her dead birdie.

When did depression and insomnia become such good friends?

"I miss you" you whispered, as tears slid down your cheeks. You blink, trying to relieve the irritation in your eyes. When something blunt and cold presses against your forehead. He's there, the red menace, the annoying thorn that wedged too deeply into your flesh. Pointing his favorite handgun at your head. You almost wish he would shoot.

When the light hits his helmet just right, it's like an open head wound.

"You look so ethereal in the moonlight, like a corpse bleeding out."

He's taken aback by your statement, he tenses, his fingers twitch. In anger or shock, you aren't quite sure. "You're really disturbed, you know that kitty?" His tragicomic lilt tastes so irritably sweet. You can't help but laugh like a madman.

Maybe Batman was right, maybe time does heal all wounds.

Maybe you've finally found your eschar.

When Red Hood punches you, hard enough to fracture bone, you can't help but relish in sickly-sweet sentimentality.

He's so familiar but you just don't know why.

Osteonic, pneumonic your body remembers while you do not.

"Keep throwing punches like that and I might think you hate me, darling." You blow him a fake kiss before he sweeps your feet, making you fall back.

He straddles your hips, pinning you to the ground. You gave him a fake pout before his hand is on your throat. Squeezing, harder and harder. It's like he's trying to push stars inside you, making you connect them and form constellations to say everything he never can.

Spots dance across your vision as you offer him a final giggle.

"Come on kitty, I thought you could take a little roughhousing."

It happens again.

He's so haunting in the daylight. Like a ghost twice dead.

He's staring

He's always staring

You didn't need to see his open casket

You would have thought him sleeping

He's dead he's dead he's dead

You say it so often these days it's like a mantra.

Jason, Red Hood.

Where does one begin and the other end?

You can't keep pushing the ghost of your childhood friend into the first new vigilante in town. But you can't help it.

It's like Jason's been reincarnated.

Like he's finally returned.

You've taken to reading Hamlet.

Not because you want to.

But because you feel like the answer to these phantoms lies between the ivory pages.

Or maybe it's because you wish to study Ophelia's madness. In hopes of finding a cure for your own.

You feel like Ophelia drowning in the river creek.

You feel like Hamlet arguing with apparitions.

"I hate you." He screams one night, he's been chasing you for the better part of an hour after your recent heist at the museum. You laugh and throw him a kiss as you jump to the next building. But midair Red Hood tackles you, using your body to cushion his fall. Your bodies rest entwined atop that familiar skyscraper. "I love this place" you mutter from underneath him. "I used to come here with my best friend when we were young. It was..."

"...Our spot" he finishes. He lets out a bitter chuckle that sounds more like a profanity aimed straight at you. He stands again, knees keeping you pinned down, digging into your hips. His fist collides with your face again. He does it so often now you've come to almost love them.

"Jason" you murmur as the blood trickles down your nose, you feel something in your eye pop as you laugh. "You remind me so much of him".

Red Hood stands taller. For a second the world stills. He reaches behind and pulls up his helmet...

There's a popped blood vessel in your eye. Or many a concussion has bloomed within your skull. Regardless the vision flickering before you can't be real.

"I've got you under my skin" he murmurs as he lays a chaste kiss upon your cheek. "No matter what I do, I just can't get rid of the thoughts of you." He pulls your body up and embraces you so tightly. You only whisper his name like a scared prayer. Inhale his scent like ichore. He's too solid to be a ghost. Or maybe you're finally dead.

Jason buries his face in your neck. Muffling his sobs as he bites into your shoulder, letting your taste erupt inside his mouth. He's missed you, he's missed you more than anything else. It hurts knowing you'd be willing to replace him with someone else. Hurts that you fell for the first wise-cracking man in a mask that you met. But it's okay, it's fine, he can punish you later. For now, all that matters is that you're right where you belong.

At your spot, with him.

"I'll never leave you again kitty, I promise"

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luvherguts · 5 months ago

Text

gagging jinx with an oral fixation…

cw: sub! jinx, gagging, bondage, bratty! jinx, mentions of masochist jinx (teehee), reader is a little mean, not proofread!

thinking about jinx with the sluttiest mouth ever, her lips and little pink tongue darting out to lave over your face, your tits, your cunt… practically any part of your body that she can get to.

but today, she’d been so fucking annoying, snide remarks and blatant ignorances being thrown your way for no apparent reason at all.

you figured she’d been doing it for some sort of punishment, ever the masochistic slut. and you knew what she needed, even if she wasn’t fully aware herself.

when you had arrived home, jinx had expected you to find her, grab her by her cobalt braids, and drag her up to your bedroom where you’d at least spank her little ass.

but no, you walked right past her. it was as if she was no more than a translucent entity in your home, and she whined out petulantly at your ignorance.

it wasn’t until she heard you, voice stern and cold, voicing an “upstairs, now.” by your steeled tone, she knew that this wasn’t up for discussion, and her pale little cunt started to throb in anticipation.

well, that’s what she thought, until you had a heart shaped ball gag strapped around her head and shoved inside of her mouth, drool slipping past her chin and down to the juncture of her lithe neck, coating her décolletage in rivulets of shimmering saliva, ever the messy girl that she is.

she looked at you with furrowed brows and big, round fuchsia irises, whimpering and whining against the ball gag. this was absolute torture for her. she wanted to rip the ball gag out of her needy little mouth and whine protests of ‘this isn’t fair!’ and ‘just hurt me or fuck me instead!’ - but alas, her hands were tied behind her back with a soft blue silk bind, to prevent her from stepping out of line.

she thought this was bad enough, until you whipped out your favourite toy, an opaque blue dildo with sparkles. it was entirely too large for jinx’s pussy, but you thought it filled you just right.

you sat right in front of jinx, legs intertwining with her spread ones. her eyes filled with unshed tears as she watched the way your sticky pussy took in the large dildo, feeling her own core clench helplessly around nothing.

this was so not fair. she just wanted your attention. and now you were treating her as if she were a fly on the wall. her cunt was so sore, and you weren’t even looking at her. she just wanted you to touch her, slap her, spit on her, anything.

you moaned unabashedly, as your eyes finally, finally, landed on her. god, she looked positively ruined, and it made your cunt twitch as your free hand went to rub little figures on your clit.

“oh, princess. what’s wrong?” you pout mockingly, knowing exactly what’s wrong, but choosing to be cruel. your hole spasms around the dildo, a ring of creamy mess gathering around the hilt of the toy.

all she can do is whine and thrash, in a feeble attempt to break out of the restraints you’ve put her in. you can see the way her pussy leaks strings of sticky arousal down to her tight little ass.

you hear a muffled “hmph!” coming out of her mouth, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cum around the girthy cock, sighing in ecstasy.

the tears decorating her waterline were now spilling down her face, mixing with the saliva on the lower half of her face. her eyes were glued to the sight of your pussy squeezing the toy, mesmerised by the way your cum dripped down and out of your hole. she wanted to be in that dildo’s place so fucking bad. she just needed you to free her mouth - wasn’t this enough? weren’t you gonna let her put her mouth on you now?

as you pulled the toy out of your pussy, you saw jinx panting and looking at you expectantly, akin to that of a puppy waiting for her treat. the tears in her sparkly eyes made her look absolutely debauched.

“you want me to take that off, you little bitch?” you snarled, clearly still not impressed with her. she nodded feverishly at both the degrading nickname you had chosen for her and the thought of her mouth being freed.

as you moved closer to her, she practically flung her body towards you, expecting you to unclasp the god awful gag. she looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, clearly under the full impression that you were actually going to take the gag out of her mouth. you tut. what a foolish girl.

instead, you inch closer to her parted lips, landing a sticky kiss right on the heart shaped gag. she lets out a whimper at the action, truly wishing it was her empty mouth you were licking at, so she could at least stick her tongue down your throat and suck on your pink muscle in return.

your fingers trailed down her ivory pale tummy, admiring the soft, supple skin and the puff of blue ink decorating her torso, before slipping down to the mound of her cute pussy, finger dipping slightly past her entrance. you knew how sensitive her hole was, and you knew any sort of contact would have her reeling. she almost screamed around the silicone as she felt just the slightest tip of your finger breach past her tight pussy hole, needing so much more than what you were supplying her with.

before she could actually enjoy it, you pull away from her, leaning back on your elbows and spreading your legs once again. she lets out a cry of pure defeat but is distracted from her own anguish as her gaze falls down the expanse of your tits and stomach to your ruined cunt.

“you wanna put your mouth on me?” you ask, looking at her with hooded eyes. she nods so fast you suspect she’s given herself whiplash, eyes never leaving your pussy. the way your cream still flowed out of you. she couldn’t tell if it was the same liquid from your release, or a new wave of arousal caused by her mental and physical torment. she had a feeling it was the latter.

her poor little head couldn’t think of how to effectively eat you out, what with the heady scent of your cunt and the sound of the wetness sloshing between your legs occupying her already fuzzy mind.

she looks at you frantically, not understanding what you want from her. she was starting to get anxious, worried you really weren’t going to let her get her mouth on you at all tonight.

you smile at her cruelly, shrugging as you say, “figure it out, princess”

and all she can do is sob out as she feels a new stream of slick force its way out of her throbbing, puffy pussy.

oh, your poor, poor baby. this was going to be the death of her.

#arcane #wlw nsft #lesbian #jinx arcane #sub!arcane #wlw post #jinx smut #sub! jinx #jinx x reader smut #jinx x reader #wlw smut #sapphic #lesbian nsft #sapphic nsft

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mariahcarreyyy · 1 year ago

Text

.ೃ࿐𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 . . . | 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏 |

oscar piastri x fem!reader

plot. your sexual frustration is humiliatingly evident when oscar lets you sit on his lap

wc. 2.2k

warnings. smut 18+, thigh riding, innocent!reader, praise kink, purity rings, osc has a major corruption kink & refers to himself as god (sorry🫣), manhandling, swearing, allusions to heaven, and religious symbolism

A time when the gifted silver band wasn’t laced around your ring finger is not one you remember clearly. At the ripe age of twelve, with a face adorned with baby-like features and an ever-present aura of giddiness, your father had gently placed the circle on your overstretched hand.

“It’s a promise for abstinence,” he’d responded to your furrowed brows, but the foreign word had only deepened your confusion. “Look—here, it says, ‘I will wait for my beloved’. And you will, won’t you?”

Even now, despite his absence, you find yourself nodding at the slightly threatening question as your right hand fiddles with the thin loop. Boredom eating at your mind, your eyes shift to the figure occupying your chair; a smile slowly creeps onto your lips.

Oscar, a man of stubborn chestnut hair and constellations of moles embellishing his toned frame. The gleaming screen of the rectangle illuminates his face harshly, likely stinging his eyes as they dart across his unanswered emails.

A sigh leaves your lips. You fall pliant on your bed, unraveling the tight knots in your shoulders with a roll of your arms and an arch of your spine—an obnoxiously loud noise (a little whiny, in Oscar’s opinion) echoes along the room.

“You need anythin’, baby?” Oscar mumbles, mindlessly tapping at his keyboard.

With an exasperated huff, you lift yourself to sit upright and lean on your arm, your head lolling lazily to the side. Oscar perks up. He rips his eyes away from the rectangle box to crane his neck back and peer down at you through thick lashes— you and that godforsaken circle around your finger.

The small, knowing grin that makes itself home on Oscar's lips almost makes you embarrassed at your obvious search for attention. Almost. Your boyfriend sways his hips lightly to turn the wheely chair toward your peripheral vision.

“C’mere, sit on my lap while I finish?” he muses, patting his right thigh encouragingly. When he registers your giddy smile and hasty advances toward him, Oscar wants to punch himself three times in the gut for not asking you sooner.

“Well, if you’re begging for it,” you shrug sarcastically through a tight-lipped smile, finding solace in the V of his pale thighs before pausing.

Oscar notices your sudden shift in demeanor because, well, when does he not? “What’s wrong?”

You blink dumbly, pointing your index finger at the hem of his loose, cobalt blue shorts. The Australian follows the invisible line shooting out of your finger and frowns; his thighs tense instinctively, your unnerving stare fueling his insecurities more than he would like to admit.

“Y’don’t like them? I went to the mall with Lan last week, and he told me they were nice, so—”

The last of his words are muffled by a hand pressing against his mouth. Guilt shines through your pupils, he notices. “No, no, Osc, t-they’re fine. Fine, just– just short, is all.”

Really, incredibly, stupidly short. They were bunched up to the crease between his inner thighs and crotch, the pure muscle spilling out from the sides, making you curl your fists by your sides.

“Ah.”

Hesitantly, you meet his eyes, and regret swells in your heart almost immediately. “What? Why’re y’looking at me like that?”

Oscar nearly coos at the slight whine in your voice, and he reaches out to wrap his fingers around your forearm. Now, he’s sure he coos when you melt into his lap, his palms gripping the back of your folded knees and pulling you closer into his embrace.

“M’sorry, sorry, baby,” he laughs, and you hum happily as you bury your forehead into the crook of his neck, Oscar pecking your temple lovingly.

He still sounds like he’s aware of something you have no recollection of but. The warmth that wraps your soul in a blanket each time Oscar touches you returns, and the thought is quickly forgotten.

“S’fine,” you murmur. And you mean it this time.

A hum ripples against his throat and vibrates against your skin; time drifts by unknowingly—fast or slow, ten minutes or hours—but it’s enough for you to shift listlessly in your place. Oscar freezes, his pupils blown wide.

“S–shit, y/n, stop that,” he seethes through gritted teeth, hands flying to your waist and pushing you back slightly.

Your eyebrows furrow, confused wrinkles covering your forehead as you gaze down at him for an explanation, a reason—really, anything to stop your mind from running at a hundred miles per second.

“What?” a pout graces itself on your lips; Oscar wants to kiss it away, but. But if he does, he’s not sure how much self-restraint he can muster around you. “D’I do somethin’? Why don’t you...”

Sighing heavily, Oscar’s tight hold on your waist relocates down to your thighs. “No, no, baby—fuck, no, nothing like that. Just,” he lifts your knee to straddle one of his thighs instead. “Like this... s’better.”

Half instead of whole, and.

And Osc would cross the world twice, delving into each volcano and marching up the tallest mountains, to reassure you that you did nothing wrong in particular. It was him. Him and the blood rushing to his balls from you practically humping your clothed pussy against his dick.

Okay, maybe ‘humping’ is a bit of an exaggeration, but it didn’t feel like one.

Unbeknownst to Oscar, however, the relieved pressure on his end only slipped through the cracks of his skin and into yours. But he, God bless him, thinks nothing of the tension that’s boiling in your shoulders or the hitch of your breath. Blaming it on the lingering effects of his sudden repositioning, Oscar gently pulls you down with two massive hands on the swell of your ass.

Flush against his thigh. His thigh, Jesus fuck—a quiet forgive me, Lord, echoes around the walls of your mind.

“Osc,” you gasp quietly, the constant pressure against your privates shooting unfamiliar spikes of something down to your stomach—something you needed more of.

He hums dismissively; you want to cry. It doesn’t take you long, though, to fully grasp his attention when Oscar registers the heartbeat pressing between your squished pussy and his thigh.

The Australian's mind short circuits. “Y/n?”

“Osc, I-” you roll your hips experimentally, slapping a hand over your mouth and flushed cheeks when it parts around an unrestrained whimper.

Your boyfriend, seemingly snapping out of his bewildered daze, dips down to dust his lips over your reddening cheeks, chuckling fondly. “Enjoying y’self, baby?”

And that. That is what pulled you away from the edge of logical thinking and onto its’ center, halting movement in every bone in your body. Wrong—this—it’s all wrong, isn’t it? ‘I will wait for my beloved’ is etched into your skin, engraved onto your heart, and yet.

Yet, you can’t help but wonder: Is Oscar not your beloved?

“Y/n,” his assertiveness grounds you, pulls you back to the surface of his honey-filled eyes—just as he had intended. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready…”

Oscar's hand leaves the curve of your waist and reaches behind his neck to clasp onto your palm, bringing the cool metal of your purity ring against his mouth as he murmurs, “But don’t stop on my account.”

The ring burns through your skin and falls to the ground; you hope it cracks into a million little pieces of stupid promises. And anyway, Osc’s giddy smile when you allow him to—do what, you’re not really sure—is too precious to deny.

Nibbling on your raw bottom lip, you slowly shake your head. “No, I– I want this, Osc. Want you.”

He does not disappoint; his eyes crinkle through that grin you’d pay to see a hundred times over. Oscar taps the side of your thigh twice, signaling you to stand up, so you do. Your hands lay helplessly by your sides as he smoothed over the contours of your body until—

You let out a little gasp. “Osc!”

A soft, harmless tug at the hem of your shorts widens your eyes.

“Y/n,” he calls, and you can’t bother fighting the urge to rub your thighs together. “Y’want me to touch you, right? Make y’pussy feel better?”

The amount of self-restraint needed to block the guffaw from slipping past your lips does not fit into a number. Or a word. In any language.

Nonetheless, you find yourself bashfully nodding.

“Words, Y/n.”

You gulp, embarrassment apparent on your crimson cheeks. “Want you to—to make m’feel better.”

Oscar heaves out a laugh at your refusal to say those objectively filthy words; you almost want to commit murder, but it hurts. It hurts, and you can’t help but sigh happily when his hands swiftly pull both your shorts and panties down, manhandling your ankles out of the pool of clothing by your feet.

And only then, being ogled at by his mesmerized eyes and hands sliding down the sides of your body, does your mind grasp the fact that you were standing in front of Oscar. Half naked. His for the taking. The shame you'd expected to feel never came, and when Osc pulls you to straddle his thigh, you knew it never would.

“There we go,” he praises when you shift your weight fully onto him, rewarding you with a bounce of the leg you were resting on.

Choking through a loud gasp, your hands fly to his shoulders to brace yourself. “Oh, Osc, oh my—”

“Yeah? Y’like that?” Oscar grins almost cockily, repeating the sharp movement of his legs and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Mm, fuck, baby, can feel you all ov’me.”

The humiliating amount of slick your pussy’s gushing out should make you ashamed, but, well. When you grind against his thigh, the glide is much smoother than when you were fully clothed, so you silently thank your desperation instead.

“C’mon, baby, y’can do better than that,” he urges, hands resting on the globes of your ass and grinding your pussy against his slick-ridden thigh. “Y’ve been waiting so long for this, haven’t you?”

He coos at your frantic nods and refrains from groaning at the sight of you tilting your head back in pleasure; using him—his fucking thigh—to get off. The sound of your little, whiny moans leaves him feeling like an inexperienced teenager all over again; he wants more. Wants to have your pretty sounds made into a song to play on loop whenever he needs to.

With Oscar’s forceful hands dragging you up and down his muscular thighs, tensing them occasionally, and lips mouthing at your collarbone, you don’t think a sin should ever feel this good. You don’t think it could feel any better than it does, but.

The urgency in your movements almost has your legs aching, your jaw parted around a permanent ‘o’; the whimper that slips past your lips when his fingers graze your folds, not pushing but they’re there, and Oscar fucking moans when he feels your hole clench against them; the stutter of your hips when he dips down to your tits, tongue licking over the tight, thin fabric covering the hard nubs.

“Osc, ohmygod, ohm—” Your wail echoes around the entire flat, you’re sure, and if you had even a sliver of dignity left, you’d quiet down.

But. Oscar seems to have that effect on you; really, you don’t mind.

“Yeah, baby, I’m your god, huh?” He huffs out, muffled by his sucking on your nipples like they’d disappear tomorrow—like he is the one being taken apart on someone’s lap. “Humping my thigh—fuck, so fucking desperate, look at you.”

Your mouth parts around a moan, and you quickly put your face into the crook of his neck to, hopefully, contain your embarrassing noises. It does fuck all. Oscar lets out a disapproving noise at the separation of your little, swollen nipples and his pursed lips.

“Oscar, Oscar, Oscar,” you sob out like a prayer. “I feel, ah, I think I'm—Oh, yes, feels s’good, so.”

When Oscar slides a hand up to your hair to tug your head up to his face, he looks nearly as fucked out as you feel. And when his eyes dart to your lips, visibly contemplating whether or not he should kiss you, you make the decision for him.

His soft lips meet the fuse of the boiling pleasure in your stomach, forcing your spine to arch and painting your eyes a shade of white you had only imagined would be in heaven—smiling hazily and foggy-brained, you can’t imagine this not being heaven.

A sharp cry dances between your mouths, and you swear you can feel a few tears trickle down your face, but your mind only processes the last few moments before you collapse onto his chest.

Oscar gently slides the silver band out of your ring finger, tucking it into his pockets, and placing a soft kiss on your temple as he murmurs, “No use f’this, now, is there?”

Even when on the brink of passing out, you find yourself nodding; Oscar thinks you’ll be the death of him. Or, more specifically, his dick.

authors notes this is an apology to @lifeboredme for ignoring the poll n writing the max fic hehe hope u enjoy 🫶 + thank you to @cafekitsune as always for the dividers mwah.

plot what plot??? porn without plot🗣️🗣️🗣️ very much hate this fic but i also hate every fic of mine so. en e wayz im sorry in advance for my inactivity the next few weeks i have sm shit going on. writing grind comes after march 6 istg🙏

also, thank you so much to everyone who waited for this fic and im so sorry for the delay!! i got hit by a mountains load of stress but yeah <3

lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🥕

taglist in separate posts again el oh el . . . i tagged everyone who interacted w/ my original post bcs i was too lazy to make an actual post dedicated to tags

p.s REBLOGS and likes are always appreciated 🧡🧡

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colourfulbisexualities · 3 months ago

Text

FROSTBITE ; aaron hotchner x female medical examiner

aaron hotchner taglist.

you came prepared for the cold. hotch, as usual, did not. watching him try to out-stubborn the weather is almost amusing, until you catch the tell-tale signs of his inevitable loss. and since you refuse to let sheer fbi stubbornness be the cause of his demise, you take matters (and your scarf) into your own hands.

"YOUR IDEA of small talk is discussing lividity. Mine is asking if you’ve ever heard of a scarf."

The crime scene is a frozen hellscape, and you? You are rapidly approaching the limits of your patience.

The snow crunches beneath your boots as you step carefully over the iced-over pavement, adjusting the lapels of your very expensive black coat, which, unlike a certain someone’s choice of outerwear, actually serves a functional purpose.

The wind is relentless, cutting through the gaps between buildings like a scalpel, and despite the layers you smartly put on: your cobalt-blue sweater snug beneath your coat, the rich red of your gloves a bold contrast against the whiteout conditions—it’s still miserable.

And yet, Aaron Hotchner stands beside you looking like he just walked out of an FBI-themed catalogue, his usual dark suit and sad excuse for a windbreaker doing absolutely nothing to protect him from the elements.

You glance over at him, squinting. Does this man have something against being warm?

"Not a fan of coats, Agent?" you ask, tucking your hands deeper into your pockets, fingers curled inside the soft lining of your gloves.

He doesn’t even look at you.

"Not a fan of wasting time," he replies, flipping open a case file that the wind immediately tries to rip from his fingers.

You watch as he barely manages to hold onto it, and if you weren’t so distracted by the absolute absurdity of his life choices, you’d have the decency to be impressed. Instead, you roll your eyes so hard you practically pull a muscle.

"Oh, I see," you say, nodding sagely. "Dying of exposure is fine, but god forbid you take an extra five seconds to put on a real jacket. Wouldn’t want anyone to think you have needs like a normal human being."

Nothing. No reaction, no flicker of emotion. Just Hotch being Hotch, the immovable object of the BAU.

But then you notice it.

It’s small, barely noticeable unless you’re paying attention. But you are. Because even though Aaron Hotchner likes to pretend he’s made of solid granite and pure spite, his body betrays him. His grip on the file is too tight, his fingers just a little too stiff.

There’s a subtle, controlled exhale that fogs the air in front of him, his breath quicker than it should be. And then, the real kicker? His shoulders tense as a tiny, almost imperceptible shiver rolls through him.

Oh.

Oh, this is pathetic.

"Oh my god," you breathe, eyes widening. "You’re actually cold, aren’t you?"

Hotch doesn’t react at first, which is classic avoidance, but you are nothing if not persistent. You tilt your head, studying him like a specimen under a microscope, and hum thoughtfully.

"You poor thing," you mock, reaching up to press a gloved hand to your chest in faux sympathy. "Here I was, thinking you just had an irrational hatred for comfortable outerwear, but no—you're suffering. You’re out here trying to will yourself into thermal regulation like some kind of FBI-trained monk."

Hotch finally exhales sharply, which you think is supposed to be a sigh of exasperation, but you hear the thinly veiled amusement under it.

"I’m fine," he mutters, flipping another page in his file.

"Oh, sure. You look fine," you deadpan. "Your ears aren’t bright red. Your fingers aren’t seconds away from frostbite. And I definitely didn’t just see you shiver like a chihuahua in a blizzard."

He doesn’t dignify that with a response, which, frankly, is a win for you.

But still, this is ridiculous. He’s clearly freezing, but he’d rather suffer in silence than admit that maybe, just maybe, wearing the bare minimum amount of clothing in below-freezing temperatures is a bad idea.

And so, you make a decision.

With a dramatic sigh that is entirely for show, you unwind the thick, red cashmere scarf from around your neck. Before Hotch can react, you step forward and loop it around his neck instead, wrapping it snugly like you’re dressing a particularly stubborn mannequin.

He stiffens like you just put a live snake on him.

"What are you doing?"

"Saving your life," you reply, tugging the scarf into place with a firm yank.

His brows furrow, lips parting slightly, like he’s about to launch into a protest about how he doesn’t need it or he’s perfectly fine, thank you very much. But you’re not in the mood to listen to any of his nonsense, so you shut it down before it starts.

"Ah-ah," you cut him off, holding up a finger. "This is not up for debate. You will wear this scarf, and you will keep it on. Otherwise, I will make a scene. A big one. I’ll tell the whole team you collapsed from hypothermia. I’ll dramatically throw myself over your body, wailing about how I begged you to wear a coat, but you refused. I’ll make Spencer analyse your case history and find evidence of a self-destructive martyr complex."

Hotch blinks at you. Then exhales sharply. It’s almost a laugh.

"Charming," he mutters, adjusting the scarf like he’s still deciding whether or not he’s actually going to wear it.

You smirk, stepping back, fully satisfied with yourself. "So I’ve been told."

And just as you turn on your heel, walking toward the body, you glance back one last time—just in time to see Aaron Hotchner not taking the scarf off.

You allow yourself one last victorious glance at Hotch, watching as he shifts uncomfortably in the scarf you so graciously provided. He doesn’t take it off. Probably because he knows you’ll make good on your threat, but the way he adjusts it, fingers tugging at the cashmere like it’s some kind of foreign object, is downright adorable.

You turn back toward the body, your smirk lingering as you crouch down. The scene itself is grisly, the poor bastard half-buried in the snow, his lips frozen in something that’s definitely not a smile. Rigor’s already set in, his limbs stiff as icicles, but you can tell from a single glance that he wasn’t dumped here that long ago.

The lividity is still settling. You could probably put on your professional hat and start rattling off time-of-death estimates, but honestly? You’re more interested in seeing how long Hotch lasts before he starts pretending that scarf was his idea.

"Alright, Frosty," you mutter to the corpse, tugging your gloves tighter. "Let’s see what you’ve got for me."

Behind you, Hotch sighs. "Must you?"

"Absolutely," you say without hesitation.

You glance up at him, and God, he looks miserable. Not because of the body—that’s just another day in the BAU—but because the wind has officially escalated to what you’d describe as “actively attempting murder.” His hair, normally so neatly combed, has gone slightly tousled from the elements.

The tip of his nose is pink with cold, and despite the scarf (which he is still wearing, thank you very much), his jaw is set so tight that you can practically hear the internal monologue scolding him for not wearing something warmer.

You hum thoughtfully, tilting your head. "You know," you start, "if you ever get tired of the FBI thing, you could probably start a lucrative career in cryogenics. Since you seem so dedicated to freezing yourself for no reason."

He exhales through his nose. "Are you planning to examine the body or just continue providing commentary?"

"Oh, I can multitask," you reply, reaching into your kit. "I’m very talented that way. But if you’re cold—" you intentionally emphasize the word, watching his eyebrow twitch, "—you could always wait in the car like a responsible adult who values their own survival."

Hotch crosses his arms. "I’m not cold."

You snort. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I suppose your ears just naturally turn that color when you’re ‘not cold’?"

He doesn’t answer, which is a shame, because you were hoping for something more creative than sheer stubborn silence.

Sighing, you turn back to the body, lifting one of the victim’s hands with delicate care. The fingertips are pale, stiff from the cold, but not enough to throw off your estimate. "He’s been here maybe ten, twelve hours max," you murmur, examining the nails. There’s debris under them: dirt, a little bit of fabric. Defensive wounds up the arms. "Fought back. Not hard enough, though."

Hotch steps closer, the warmth of his presence—what little there is—cutting through the wind. "You’re sure?"

"I always am," you reply, glancing up at him. "Though I’m sure you’ll want an official report before you trust me. Because, you know, that whole ‘cold, hard facts’ thing." You pause, then grin. "Speaking of cold and hard... how’s your body temperature doing, Aaron? Holding steady? Need another layer?"

He almost glares at you, but you catch it. The way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers flex like he’s resisting the urge to adjust the scarf again.

You knew it.

"I’m fine," he says, but it’s so much less convincing this time.

"Mmm," you hum, "if you say so."

You go back to work, scanning the rest of the victim’s body, making mental notes, piecing together the story. But your amusement lingers, bubbling beneath the surface, because as much as Hotch wants to pretend this is just another case, you know better.

Because Hotch may be a lot of things; stoic, terrifyingly competent, a walking definition of emotionally unavailable but right now?

Right now, he’s standing in the middle of a frozen crime scene, wearing your scarf.

You bend down to examine the victim’s shoes, reaching under your coat to adjust something tucked against your ribs, something small, warm and sneaky.

You feel a faint grin tug at your lips as you stand up, turning toward Hotch with an exaggerated sigh. “Well, since you’re so damn determined to prove you’re fine, I guess I’ll have to take care of this myself."

Hotch barely glances at you before looking back to the scene, probably convinced you’re just about to make some snarky remark.

Instead, you hand him the small hot water bottle you’d been keeping hidden beneath your layers. It’s snug and warm in your palm, the relief of it a welcome contrast to the biting cold of the air. The bottle is simple, wrapped in a soft, worn fabric, but the gesture—well, that’s intentional.

You’re not impressed with him.

"Here," you say, practically thrusting it into his hands. "Take it before I lose all sympathy and leave you to your miserable, stubborn self."

He stares at the hot water bottle for a moment, clearly taken aback. His eyebrows furrow, and his mouth presses into that familiar line of 'I don’t need anything'. But you’re already stepping back, giving him no time to debate.

"Look," you add, not hiding the smirk in your voice, "I’m not saying you’ll freeze to death out here. But if you keep standing like a statue, I will be forced to call the team in, and I’m not about to explain to them why you’ve turned into a human popsicle."

You walk off toward the victim’s body again, your breath still curling in the cold air, not caring whether Hotch takes the bottle or not.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him holding it—gripping it tightly like it’s an anchor in a storm.

The drive back to the office is silent at first, save for the hum of the engine and the sound of the heater blasting on full. The interior of the car is a blessed relief from the freezing temperatures outside, the warmth wrapping around you like a heavy blanket.

You feel the heat slowly seep into your skin, unwinding muscles that had been tense from the cold. You watch the snow falling in soft, lacy patterns through the window, your mind flickering between thoughts of the case and what the hell just happened back there with Hotch.

He’s beside you, leaning back against his seat, the scarf still draped around his neck, though now, it's just comfortable. No longer a point of stubborn defiance, no longer a symbol of his refusal to acknowledge anything personal.

You glance over at him, just a quick look, just to see if he’s still silently brooding like he always does. But?

He’s not.

His eyes are closed, head tilted back just slightly, lips parted like he’s actually relaxed. And for a second, you think you might’ve imagined the whole scene. But then the car jerks over a bump, and the real Hotch is there: stiff, controlled, and wearing a somewhat reluctant, subtle smile that you can tell he's trying to keep hidden.

You blink. No way.

You give him another quick glance, and this time, he’s aware of it, turning his head toward you with that deadpan stare of his. But there’s a flicker in his eyes—recognition, like he knows you caught him slipping just a little.

Caught in the act, and he doesn’t like it.

You bite back a grin, turning your focus back to the road.

Finally, after what feels like ages, Hotch clears his throat.

"Thanks."

It’s quiet, and you’re not sure you heard him right, so you just pretend you didn’t, even though you definitely did.

"What?" You glance at him, feigning confusion.

"For the scarf. And the... water bottle."

You fight the smirk threatening to curl your lips.

"You’re welcome," you say, tone sweet as sugar, because who are you to deny a man a little warmth after all the stubbornness he just had to display?

His hand briefly reaches up to touch the scarf, and then he drops it.

"I suppose it was... necessary," he adds, his voice soft, like he’s admitting some sort of defeat. You can almost feel him trying to keep his pride intact, but you can also feel the warmth from the heating system wrapping around both of you.

You roll your eyes. "No suppositions about it. You were shaking like a leaf, Hotch. Anyone with a pulse could tell you needed a little extra help."

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the faintest blush creeping up his neck. You know damn well it’s not because of the heat.

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can almost see him calculating whether or not to keep arguing his point. But, in the end, he just sighs.

"You really know how to make a man feel inadequate."

Now you can’t help but smirk, finally letting out a low laugh.

"You didn’t need me to make you feel that way. You’re doing just fine on your own."

Hotch doesn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, you’re not sure if he’s going to hold onto that last thread of serious, unflappable Agent Hotchner. But then you hear it: the faintest hint of a chuckle in his throat. It’s so brief, so soft, but it’s there.

It feels like a win.

"I’ll keep that in mind," he says, the corners of his mouth twitching.

You glance at him again, trying and failing, to hide your grin.

"Good."

You settle back into the seat, relaxing as the car cruises through the quiet streets, the world outside a blur of snow and icy roads. The heater does its job, wrapping you both in warmth, and despite the quiet, there’s a change between you two.

It’s subtle, something you both know, but neither of you will ever admit out loud. The tension from earlier is gone, replaced by something else—a kind of... understanding.

You’re not sure what exactly this thing is between you and Hotch, but for now? For now, you’ll let him keep pretending it’s just another day at the office. You’ll let him think he’s won.

But in your head? You know the truth.

251 notes · View notes

lilylovestowrite · 1 year ago

Text

LESSONS IN ETIQUETTE ୨♡୧

PAIRING: (Neuvillette x AFAB!Reader x Wriothesley) SYNOPSIS:After becoming the Acting Princess of Fontaine, you've been struggling to follow the rules, but it's all okay! That's what your royal tutor Neuvillette and bodyguard Wriothesley is there to help you with! WARNINGS:(NSFW, spanking, edging, overstimulation, handcuffs, blindfolding, oral (fem. receiving), praise degradation) MDNI

Divider by @/cafekitsune

“Princess?”

Neuvillette’s baritone voice, although raised slightly so you can hear it from the other side of the door, holds the same tender lilt to it. You feel your heart leap slightly when you leap from your red chaise lounge and bound to the door to rip it open, ignoring the judgemental stare from your bodyguard, Wriothesley.

“Neuvillette!” You beam as his purple eyes crinkle from the smile he gives you. He plants a chaste kiss on your knuckle, and the glimmer of affection in his eyes when he peers up at you through his long lashes send you reeling. Ever since you were forced to act as a stand-in Princess for Teyvat after the real one had been receiving threats from an unknown source, you believe Neuvillette’s lessons in etiquette are keeping you together. Even if the balls are unbearably boring and the fake smiles you master in the bathroom mirror strain your face, learning to dance and hearing Neuvillette praise your gleeful smile is all worth it.

He allows you to lead him into your large bedroom, where Wriothesley is reading and sipping on tea. You never really understood why the dark haired man is to be by your side at all times. The Royal family tell you it’s because they don’t want to see you get hurt, but you know that it’s so you stay within the confines of the palace. Many times, you’ve leaped through the bushes of the rose garden, and Wriothesley has yanked you back and marched you back to the palace. Last week, you tried to escape through the library window, allowing the curtains to shield you from his view. You made it to the marble swan fountain by the exit before Wriothesley threw you over his shoulder with one arm and brought you back. At the recollection of the memory, you pull a face at Wriothesley as you sit Neuvillette down. He looks up at you with his eyes, the hue of rainy skies, and rolls them as if he were entertaining a child.

“Now, Princess, I don’t mean to panic you, but I have been informed of some… mishaps occuring at the last ball you were at.” Neuvillette clears his throat and a small worried expression causes you to practically wilt. He notices this and scrambles to put the smile back on your face. “N-not anything too major though, I heard you did so well in dancing, I’m very proud of you.”

“Thank you, Neuvillette, I just never want to disappoint you.” You practically simper, and Wriothesley hides a gag behind a polite cough, which Neuvillette is tactful enough to ignore.

“You couldn’t possibly, my darling.” A gloved hand lightly pets you on the head, and you can smell the scent of moringa flowers get stronger as he approaches you. “Though I may need to teach you something a little different.”

“Oh?” You reply, adjusting your blouse once you see how perfectly pressed Neuvillette’s navy three piece suit is. He sits you down on the armchair opposite of Wriothesley, the plush of the plum coloured crushed velvet material dipping under your weight.

“Yes, Princess. It seems that last night,” he circles you behind the chair, his gloved hand trailing the golden embellishments on the back of her chair, “you were… enchanted by the Prince of Khaenri’ah.”

Ah, Prince Kaeya. Prince Kaeya, who moved with the unwavering elegance of a peacock. Prince Kaeya, who in his drunken daze, twirls you around when dancing, the khol lining his eyes causing that one beautiful, cobalt blue eye to gleam with brilliance. Oh, Prince Kaeya, who charmed you off your feet for one night only. You look guiltily at Neuvillette, “I apologise, I believe I had too much to drink-”

“You could have done worse, Princess. The error is on my behalf.” He murmurs from your left, still pacing across the room. You hear the clink of china on the table, and look up to see Wriothesley listening intently, even going as far as to slip a bookmark into the book he’s reading. “You see, people in balls may seem alluring to you-”

“They want you for your power, is all.” Wriothesley remarks, and Neuvillette clears his throat.

“That could be it, or they were simply taken by your own charms.” He offers. “However, I failed to warn you about this. And these men are dangerous, Princess. They might hunt you down, no matter how close Wriothesley is. This is why I thought of a… different way of teaching you.”

“A different way?”

Neuvillette’s long locks of white hair dance in the slight breeze as he approaches the doors to the balcony and closes them, causing the strands of starlight to halt to a stop. He pulls his hair up with a black silk ribbon in a high ponytail. The sunlight runs through the blue hued strands as he ties the ribbon into a perfect bow. “Yes, dear. Wriothesley over here and I thought that we could attempt to build up an immunity to seduction.” You feel a slight pang of fear as Wriothesley’s expressionless face glows with excitement, his half lidded eyes flooding with light.

“You see, Princess,” Wriothesley practically snarls, “we’re going to have to show you the extent of what these desperate Dukes and Princes will go to for your affection.” He hisses into your ear, so Neuvillette can’t hear. “And I’m going to show you what happens when you make things difficult for me.”

Your face flushes and Wriothesley towers over your seated figure, his arms resting on either side of your chair. “I don’t…” You hesitate and clear your throat, your composure cracking like ice under a hammer from the dark haired man’s gaze. Seeking refuge, you look towards Neuvillette for some clarity, but instead you find your mind has gone haywire when you see him slide his gloves off with his teeth. “I don’t object to it, but why must he be here?” You nudge your chin towards Wriothesley, “He has it out for me!” You pout, knowing that Neuvillette will give you a warm smile, his pretty eyes skrunckled up cutely. He does, as you predict, but the smile is accompanied by a shake of the head which causes his ponytail to dance with it.

“I’m sorry dear, but most of the people flirting with you do have it out for you. Whether it be for your fake status, money or beauty.” He approaches the chair you sit in, right beside Wriothesley, caging you in velvet. “We just want to make sure you aren’t so easily influenced, yes?”

There is always something hypnotic about Neuvillette. An air of worldly knowledge interwoven with every spoken word, a charismatic voice that makes you feel as if you’re drowning in a sea of calmness. The trance he puts you in floods your train of thought and you wonder if he’s aware of the effect he has on you, the spell he has you under. When he says it like that, with so much care and tenderness, what other answer can you reply with other than “Yes”?

“Good girl, we’ll start easy, okay?” He murmurs, kissing your temple. How anyone has ever survived this man’s charms is a mystery to you. Wriothesley on the other hand, grins down at you, fixing his glove and gripping your thigh.

“You’re gonna break tonight, Princess.” He sneers, and you feel red hot anger spurt out of you as if it were reflex. The warm, fuzzy feeling from Neuvillette boiling over.

“I won’t. Not to the likes of you.” You tug on Neuvillette’s sleeve, “At least Monsieur Neuvillette is charming. You’re just annoying.” Comes your sharp retort, even though you both know you’ve been eyeing how perfectly his clothes accentuate his body. This causes Neuvillette to go slightly pink, the apples of his cheeks more visible due to the coy smile on his face.

“Come now, Princess, we shouldn’t play favourites.” He chuckles softly, stroking your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm and pout once more.

“But you have faith in me, right, Neuvillette?”

“Oh, Princess…” He pinches your cheek, but it is as light as a petal falling on your face. “I have to side with him on this one. You are going to break tonight. And that’s okay, because you can surrender to us.” Neuvillette muses, eyes glazed over with the sight of you undone and gasping already being painted in his mind.

This is what strikes slight fear into you. You thought he would make it easy for you, maybe let Wrio bully you for a bit and then offer you dessert after a few crocodile tears. But the way that their sharp gazes pin you to the spot assures you that you are in for a ride.

“Now, angel. We are two princes vying for your attention. Keep your cool, do not show the slightest bit of interest. Not even in your body language. People will often notice what you do rather than what you say to see what pleases you, alright?” He instructs you in what is closest to a teacher's voice. You nod your head in agreement and Wriothesley snickers.

“What a pretty little Princess we have here.” He practically spits at you, but oh-so-gently kneels and kisses the back of your hand. Neuvillette twirls a lock of hair around his finger.

“Yes, they are, aren’t they?” You want to pay attention to the white haired man but you’re interrupted by the sharp bite on your hand from the still kneeling Wriothesley, who mischievously grins up at you. “Tell me, Your Highness, do you usually lure in people like this?” Wriothesley plays with the chain on your pants, pinging them.

“I… Lure?” You reply, and the triumphant grin on his face urges you to collect yourself. “It is not my fault you can’t keep your hands off me.” A similar grin contorts your innocent expression as you press a heeled shoe to his chest, pressing his black shirt buttons and red tie with intricate stitching of a darker, sensual shade of vermillion, akin to the hot anger that flushes his cheeks. Neuvillette takes your ankle and removes it from Wrio’s dress shirt to press a kiss on your shin.

“You’re right, Highness. I can’t keep my hands off you.” He muses, white hair framing his face, yet not concealing the brilliant violet gaze dripping with lust. Neuvillette’s voice is soft and gentle, yet you have to supress the urge to lean back against the chair to allow him to do whatever he wishes to you. “Nor do I want to.” Nevertheless, you keep your back straight and your gaze downcast towards them, even when Wriothesley stands up to grab your face and squish your cheeks together with one hand. It seems like the blatant act of disrespect has cracked his usually calm demeanour.

“You’re a fucking pain in the ass, my Princess.” He cooes, meeting your icy gaze and then pinning your shoulders back with both hands. “You’re touchstarved too, I’ve seen what books you hide underneath your pillow.” He looks at Neuvillette, and your eyes widen with horror. “Pure erotica.”

You feel your face fall, and the perfect, golden act you’ve kept up to allow Neuvillette’s lilac gaze to consume you like you are the only one in the world seems like it is all for naught. Your heart pulsates in your stomach. Finally meeting Neuvillete’s flushed face, a tiny chuckle leaves his lips. “Don’t bully the poor thing, Wriothesley, we all have our quirks.” He kisses your nose, “So, Princess, what sort of things do you enjoy in those books, hmm?”

Heat builds up and you feel your composure slip as Wriothesley kisses down your neck, and Neuvillette presses a kiss to your lips. Wriothesley laughs cruelly, “I bet you enjoy being toyed with.” When you moan softly, he grips your thigh, allowing Neuvillette’s soft hands to cup your face. “This kind of reaction is unbecoming of you, Princess.” He emphasises this with a bite, causing you to yelp into Neuvillette’s passionate kiss. You feel the air hit your lips when Neuvillette descends to unzip your pants, sliding the fabric down your legs. At the same time, Wriothesley rips your dress shirt open, and you squeal at his roughness. “Stand up.” He orders.

With whatever tatters of dignity you have left, you smirk at him. “Make me.” And within a split second, he picks you up. He raises your body like a ragdoll, ready to throw you onto the bed, but Neuvillette shakes his head and rushes to prep the pillows. Wriothesley sighs and places you on the bed, guiding one of the silk pillows under your hips, the cool fabric making you shiver. He unhooks the handcuffs from his belt loop and binds you with them, you thrash against him but Neuvillette hushes you, raking his hand through your scalp.

“Wriothesley, you’re so rough with them.” He tuts, and the dark haired man only scoffs and pinches your cheek.

“Well, this one is a brat, and they’ve been trying to escape multiple times, haven’t you?” He nudges you, and you glare up at him. Neuvillette gasps, and you look at him guiltily.

“Is this true, Princess?” He asks, his hand stops on your waist. You avert your gaze and nod. Neuvillette shakes his head in disappointment yet amusement glitters in his violet eyes. “You’re so good for me, but such a troublemaker for him. Is it that you’re more comfortable with Duke Wriothesley, here?”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his dark hair. “A little too comfortable.”

“We can’t have that, darling. Need you to be completely open with me as well. And here I thought I was the favourite.” He tuts, helping you up and laying your head against Wriothesley’s chest. His pin is nearly centimetres away from your eye, noticing this, Wriothesley takes it off and places it by the bedside table, such a kind gesture from him is unfamiliar to you.

Nevertheless, you can’t keep your mouth shut. “You are my favourite, Neuvillette. He’s just an assho- mmph!” Wriothesley tilts your chin up uncomfortably and kisses you on the lips, your bottom lip in between his teeth as he grabs your chest. You gasp and hear Neuvillette chuckle in the background.

“Fucking brat. You think you can get me riled up by making me upset because I’m not your favourite?” Wriothesley smirks and rolls your nipple between his fingers and jostles you in his lap.

“You are riled up. Bet you’re jealous.” You laugh, the last of your pride melts away as you moan midway through the sentence. You look at Neuvillette, who with a tiny smile, parts your thighs.

“I see what ails this Princess. I think an attitude adjustment is in order, no?” He muses, and Wriothesley agrees eagerly.

“Yeah, like fuck they do.” He declares, rolling up his sleeves and holding your thighs open. “Aww, what a mess already. I think you need to surrender, Princess, it’s obvious that you’re desperate~” Neuvillette spreads you open further, and you shrink into Wriothesley from embarrassment as he inspects how much you’re leaking, inner pink walls coated in light cream sheen.

“Not surrendering! Not yet!” You hiss, although your cuffed hands covering your mouth as Neuvillette plays with your clit. You try to shut your legs, but Wriothesley effortlessly has you spread open.

“Fine, but if your struggle is as weak as the way you’re trying to hide yourself from us by closing your legs, then expect me to make it absolute hell for you.” You whimper meekly when Neuvillette licks up and down your clit, jolting in Wriothesley’s grip. “What’s that, Princess? Finally using that mouth to make pretty noises? Hmm?” He taunts, squeezing your thighs whilst Neuvillette groans into you, the vibrations causing you to pant. He continues the taunting all the way up to your climax, in which Neuvillette stops abruptly. He tilts your chin up and smiles when he sees your fucked-out gaze.

“Princess, you need to surrender in order for me to finish you off.” He sits you up, and you shake your head in disdain.

“No, I… I can’t, not yet!” You mumble, and Neuvillette pets your head, kissing your forehead.

“We’ll let you come down from your high, darling. It’s okay.” His voice is coaxing, baritone, it vibrates and you feel your heart and lower regions flutter. Hyper aware of every kiss of air on your exposed flesh, and especially aware of Neuvillette and Wriothesley. Their breaths reverberate against your ear and clit. Wriothesley’s breath is cold, yet sharp, and Neuvillette, scorching hot, but ebbing tortuously. Oh, you could surrender, but he’s prepared this lesson for you. Sweet, caring Neuvillette, who only wants the best for you, so you will do your best just to please him. Even if it is at the expense of your own pleasure. However, a darker part of you notices the nonchalant, cocky attitude that envelops Wriothesley, and how you want to prove him wrong. Surrendering to Neuvillette’s overwhelming yet gentle pleasure would be a reward, but to damn yourself to give into Wriothesley? You may as well be a rabbit waltzing into a wolf's den.

“No! I won’t!” And with that, Neuvillette withdraws himself from between your legs, the sensation of his silver hair gliding across your thighs when he pulls himself away makes you jolt. Neuvillette smiles softly, his light purple eyes glistening and scrunching up with adoration, the same kind looks that melts your heart whenever you please him. Except now, he licks his fingers coated in a sheen of transparent, viscous liquid. It makes you squirm and twitch, the knot in your stomach dullens, but does not unravel. Wriothesley lets out a low whistle, brows raised as he watches you whine from your denied release.

“Seems like your stubbornness finally has some use. But you’ll buckle now that I’m gonna do you nice and fast.” The two switch positions, with Wriothesley between your legs and Neuvillette behind you. The only difference is that your head lays in Neuvillette’s lap instead of resting against his chest. The ruffled lace sleeve of his white shirt tickles your cheek as he reaches to brush your hair from your face, smiling softly. His finger trails your nose, down to your lips, and although you want to admire his smooth hands, you close your eyes when the pads of his fingers smooth your brows. Meanwhile, Wriothesley rummages through Neuvillette’s briefcase, his gloved hands producing a device with a suction-cup top. He grins deviously, and you instinctively try to back away, but Neuvillette reaches down to kiss your lips softly, murmuring a gentle reprimand.

“It’s not polite to reject a gift, little Princess.” He whispers, and you mumble a weak apology. His hair flutters across your face as he moves to tilt your chin towards the dark haired man. His eyes, the hue of starlight, glimmer with malice, lust, and innocent glee all at once. “Ah, ah, you should apologise to that gentleman over there.” Neuvillette replies softly, taking your bound wrists in one hand and massaging your chest with the other. You feel your face burn with humiliation. Apologise? To Wriothesley? Who holds a bizarre device that he will undoubtly use to torture you?

But one look at Neuvillette makes you gulp, the way his hands squeezes and rubs at your breasts making you keel into his touch. You have no choice but to do as he says: “I-I’m sorry, Duke Wri- ah! Wriothesley.” You moan and god, you realise how pathetic you sound because the Duke tilts his head to one side and edges near your sensitive clit with the device.

“Oh, you will be.” He waves it near your ears, and your eyes widen in horror when you hear it vibrate. You catch on quickly, even with pleasure disgruntling your senses as if playing a piano piece with the pendulum on the wrong tempo. You feel Neuvillette chuckle as his lap trembles with a low chuckle. “This is something I first found out about in the Fortress of Meriopede. They say the Fatui sometimes use pleasure to break their prey, so I’m not sure your dainty little body can take this vibrator, Princess.” His voice drips with disdain and mockery, and you want to weep from the embarrassment. You try to free yourself but Neuvillette still has his finger looped around the chains of your cuffs. Wriothesley grabs your hips and spreads your folds, whilst Neuvillette moves to circle your nipple with his finger, and you finally twitch when the first touch of the vibrator on your clit, and you yelp. Wriothesley quickly withdraws it from you and giggles with sadistic delight, before regaining his composure and diving back in with it. This time, the tantalising pleasure of the device licking your folds with mechanical speed is constant, and you cannot stifle the moans that escape your lips.

“Fu-fuck! Ah- Wriothesley, d-haah~ put it away! This is an- mm~ order!” You whine desperately between moans, and Neuvillette has to press your lower stomach into the bed to prevent you from escaping. Wriothesley cooes at you and narrows his pretty glacial eyes, only to squish your cheeks, lightly, but it stops you from speaking.

“An order? From a tied up,” he increases the vibrations,“ fucked out,” once more, and you whimper, “ little mess?” With a final increase, you whine. “What gives you that jurisdiction, brat? You shouldn’t even be ordering me to clean up your messy clothes, but you still do, and you ask me to do things for you out of job requirements. I thought you preferred that, so why is it that the one time I volunteer to do what is not required of me, you protest? Hmm?” He towers over you and laughs in your face as you sob. He lets you go, but you can only whine softly.

“Fuck you!” You weakly moan, and Wriothesley tugs on a nipple, causing you to squeal. The knot in your stomach builds once more, and you hate that with every mean name he addresses you with, it tightens.

“Yeah? Fucking adorable. Already am, you pathetic brat. Not even at the highest setting of this toy and you’re already whining like a bitch in heat.”

Neuvillette and you answer at the same time: “I’m n-not a b-bitch in- ah~! Heat!” Out comes your languid response. “Now, that’s no language we use for a young lady.” Neuvillette shakes his head disapprovingly, but Wriothesley rolls his eyes at him, gesturing to you.

“What do you call this then? She’s panting.” Wriothesley spits out, and Neuvillette lightly presses on your lower stomach in what is supposed to be a comforting gesture, but makes you see stars from pleasure.

“I call it a masterpiece. Look, she’s going on strong.” He affirms, but that is the exact moment you buckle.

“Please, please, please turn it off! I can’t take it, I’ll cum, please! Wriothesley!” You beg, and Wriothesley crawls on top of you, his knees on each side of your hips. His glacial gaze meets yours, and you can’t look back at them.

“Is that how you beg? You can do better. Come on, Princess. I know you can do it. In fact, here’s some incentive.” He increases the vibrations and you scream in pleasure.

“Please! Please, Duke Wriothesley, I’m sorry, please, please stop! I can’t take it anymore, I’m so close, please!” You whine between moans, and the pressure in your lower stomach is so strong you feel your legs tremble. Feelings of desperation, humiliation and pleasure liquidise and pool at your eyes in the form of tears, which Neuvillette swipes away as they fall. Wriothesley urges you to continue, and you swallow your pride. “Please, please stop! I want to be- to be good for the both of you and not surrender- please! Please! I beg of you, Duke.”

“Hmm, request declined.” But it’s too late. Something inside you snaps, and waves of euphoria cause you to grasp the chains that cuff your wrists together. The pleasure consumes you, your legs tremble and let out one last moan before going limp.

Wriothesley reacts first. “You stupid brat, you came without permission. You’re not allowed to do that until you surrender.” His voice goes in through one ear and out the other, because Neuvillette handles you and you find your hole being covered in a jelly like substance and stretched out once more, his violet eyes gleam with a voracity that makes him look so ethereal, he appears to be not quite human. His actions are gentle, he slowly unzips his pants and he calmly embraces you, but the veins in his arm and one side of his neck bulge with desperation.

You look at Neuvillette desperately, “W-wait, I just came, I’m still sensitive.”

He looks at you, still sensitive and fucked out from your orgasm, and caresses your cheek. “Although Wriothesley was slightly out of line, your disobedience requires discipline, dear. But I’ll never be rough with you. You know what words to say if you want this to stop, Princess.” He whispers, slowly easing you onto his length. It causes you to whine and jolt, warmth blooming in your core once more, but you rest your cuffed hands on Neuvillette’s chest, the silk of his white dress shirt clenched in your fists.

“Shh, it’s okay, darling. But you have to take it, it’s a punishment after all.” He whispers in your ear, smoothing his hand through your hair before lifting you by the waist and slamming you back down. You let out a pathetic squeal, and feel Wriothesley snake his cold arms around your neck from behind. One hand holds your chin up, forcing you to look at Neuvillette.

Pink dusts his cheeks, and his high ponytail has blue strands escaping from it, framing his blushing face. He pauses bouncing you on his lap to roll up his sleeves, giving you a kiss on your forehead before picking up the pace: “There you go, Princess- ah~! You’re doing so, fuck- so well.”

His moans are higher than his baritone drawl, but they maintain the smooth lilt his speech usually has. They mix with your louder moans and pants. This dishevelled version of the usually put-together Neuvillette makes the experience seem so much more intimate, so even if you can barely think straight with the pleasure, you hold onto him for dear life.

Wriothesley, however, had never planned to give you a moment of peace ever since Neuvillette asked him of this favour, and he lands a sharp spank on your ass. “Enjoying this a bit too much, Princess? Should have expected that from you. I know why you squirm when I lift you up to take you back to the castle after you try and escape.” Neuvillette, hearing this, angles his hips to curve his tip more upwards, and it ends up hitting you in just the right place. He continues, his own moans growing louder and breathier. Your pleasure becomes too much once more, and you cannot muster the energy to talk back to Wriothesley, who continues his assault on your behind. “Fucking look at him. What do you say to the Iudex for making you feel so good?”

You’re too busy catching your breath, but it catches in your throat when he spanks you again. “This mouth talks back all the time but the one time I ask you to use it, you don’t?” His voice is severe, and you feel him chuckle from behind.

“Th-thank you, Monsieur N-ah~! Neuvillette!” It comes out broken and quieter than you anticipate, but Neuvillette feels himself lose control, tears building in his eyes, matching the drizzle that darkens the sky outside of your window.

You whine at Wriothesley’s relentless spanks and tremble once more as another orgasm builds up, and Neuvillette feels you contract around him, the orgasmic waves of yours causing him to throw his head back. “Ah~ You’re close too dear, right? I’m- haah~ sorry, darling, but I can’t- can’t give you what you want.” He whines with almost the same amount of desperation as you, but pulls out, his own orgasm takes hold and he finishes on your stomach, leaving you high and dry. You whine desperately, but Neuvillette hushes you. The two of you take a second to catch your breaths, and he leans his forehead against yours. “Well done, Princess.”

“But you’re not done yet, Princess. One last chance to surrender?” Wriothesley guides your cuffed arms around Neuvillette’s neck, allowing you to grasp onto the back of his silk shirt that now hangs off one shoulder, exposing the flesh underneath. His breathing is still rugged and deep, but somehow, the rise and fall of his chest makes you feel safe, so when he guides your head to lay against him, you don’t protest. But at the same time, you do not surrender. You shake your head, resisting the chance to finish. If you could take Neuvillette, you could take Wriothesley. That’s what you think, but as Wriothesley slides into you from behind after propping you on your knees and face resting against Neuvillette, who is slumped against the headboard, you realise how wrong you are.

Neuvillette was going easy on you on purpose, but Wriothesley graces you with punishing thrusts that leave you reeling so hard your moans become silent and only whimpers escape your throat. He finds your sweet spot and hits it at a fast pace, perhaps not going in all the way as Neuvillette did, but his speed much higher. His hips stutter, but his rhythm is consistent otherwise. Although the sensitivity from the previous orgasm has died down, this pleasure is hard to comprehend, so when Neuvillette finds the vibrator under the covers and you hear it vibrate, you begin to squirm once more.

“No, no, no. You’re fucking taking this, Princess. You needed to be shut up, this was inevitable, so why not enjoy it, hmm? Why not let yourself become a pathetic little mess and maybe we can let you feel even better than you do now?”

“I’m- I’m not surrendering!” You choke out, and Neuvillette rubs the vibrator across your nipples, dipping downwards to your clit, causing you to break out into goosebumps and quivers.

“You’re not, dear? That’s great to hear, you’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you.” Neuvillette praises, and you cringe when you feel yourself flutter around Wriothesley, practically hearing shit eating grin.

“Aww, Iudex, they like it when you praise them. Just felt them tighten.” He grunts, holding you up by the hips and thrusting into you rapidly.

“Do you, now?” Neuvillette teases, kissing the crown of your forehead when you sob in humiliation and pleasure. “Then, darling, you’re doing so well, but you would do better to surrender, hmm?” He whispers, slowly palming at your chest. “Just let us make you feel good, you’re going to be our Princess from now on, okay?”

“N-no! I won’t g-give- ah~! Give up!” You whine, and Wriothesley feels his own orgasm building. You can tell by the way he slows down and the way his groans become deeper. He hugs you close to him and kisses you down your spine as he gets closer, and you try and buck your hips to chase your own orgasm but he holds you so tight, you cannot move.

“Well- fucking done, brat.” Wriothesley moans into your ear as you feel liquid stain your behind. He pulls out just before finishing and sighs in relief. Neuvillette takes your cuffed arms and ducks under them to allow himself to remove his arms around your neck and walks towards his briefcase. He takes out a blindfold and what seems to be a collar, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach, where it pulsates from adrenaline and want. You can’t want more, they’re breaking your defences down and you’ve already forfeited most of your pride when begging Wriothesley, but when Neuvillette praises you for enduring thus far, how can you refuse? Might as well enjoy the pleasure the two give you. Especially now that your blacked out vision enhances the sensation of Neuvillette’s tip tapping against your lips. Wriothesley runs his hand down your back, kissing and licking the flesh hungrily. The pleasure of the vibrator remains on your clit, and you beg and plead, but the two continue to toy with you and your senses, this lesson in etiquette seemingly never ending…

…Neuvillette and Wriothesley have you bent over the bed, with Neuvillette eating you out and Wriothesley sucking your clit, and it snaps. You really can’t take anymore of the edging. The blindfold increases your sensitivity by tenfold and you grip the sheets. “I- I surrender! Please let me cum, please!” You beg, and once you look back, you’re met with the vibrant, violet gaze of your royal tutor, and the jeer of your bodyguard. You feel yourself being flipped over for the nth time, and the two ravage you. Neuvillette, with his feather light touches, and Wriothesley, who targets the spots that make you keel in pleasure.

Truly, you didn’t think the lesson was over yet, did you..?

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #writing #wriothesely x reader #wriothesely genshin #wriothesely smut #wriothesley #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #neuvillete smut

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qu1cks1lversb1tch · 5 months ago

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@batboysappreciationweek Day One — Jan 12th

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒑𝒚𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: heavily implied Azriel x Reader if that's really even a warning

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 587

The sun sat high over Velaris, the summer heat beating down on the many fae below, each going about their daily routines in the streets that were alive with music and a wide array of fae culture, just as it usually was.

Young children running amongst the stone streets while the Sidra glimmered, casting reflections of the ripples of water on any surface it could reach — the true heart of the hidden City of Starlight.

From where the very few spectators sat, they could see beads of sweat dripping down ripped planes of golden-brown skin, glistening in the midday sunlight like tiny diamonds above inky black tattoos.

It was quiet up at the House of Wind, save for the grunting of the two Illyrian males sparring in hand to hand combat, showing off their vastly different fighting styles. While both were clearly calculated, Azriel's movements held a bit more grace and stealth than Cassian's.

From time to time, cobalt and ruby siphons would catch in the light and you couldn't help but smirk as wisps of shadows danced at your feet, crawling up your legs as if to say ‘look at him!’ — oh, you were certainly looking, alright.

With Rhysand locked in his office for a day, discussing trade deals, you were free to watch.

And gods, was it a show. . . Dirt and rocks being kicked up, the sound of solid hits and grunts, the beating of massive membranous wings as they casted shadows on the ground — you could practically hear their heavy breathing and see the drops of sweat falling from their bodies into the dirt from where you sat.

You couldn't look away. If you did, sure you'd likely catch Nesta staring at her mate like she was a starving lioness and he was a piece of meat being dangled in front of her cage, her book having been abandoned the moment the males shed their shirts.

But if you looked away, you would've missed the slight smirk that fell onto Azriel's face when he glanced over for a split second, just barely long enough to catch your eye before he was focused on sparring with Cassian once again.

It was undoubtedly quite the sight to see.

The two males sparring, training to stay in tip top shape in case a mission was thrown onto them. In case they had to defend their mates, their home, or their friends at a moment's notice.

As breathtaking and arousal inducing as it was to watch from the sidelines, it was undoubtedly dangerous. Centuries of training and fighting — a lethal dance of pure power and strength unfolding right before your eyes.

Even when both males decided to call the end of training for the day, and Azriel approached with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, you could still feel the raw power.

Even when his scarred hands cupped your cheeks and his face drew close to yours with sweat dripping from his brow as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips, you could feel the thrum of power in his veins alongside the consistent hum of the bond.

And that intense look that seemed to permanently cloud his perfect hazel eyes, spoke every word his mouth couldn't even begin to formulate.

Every early morning training session that sometimes carried over until lunch. Every mission. Every ounce of work that took him away from you, whether it be hours, days, or even weeks. . . It was for his heart. His home. His family.

For you.

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bloodibambiidoll · 1 year ago

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Sit On It

Degradation, choking, hair pulling, cock warming, cheating (not on reader) inspired by this post 18+MDNI!!

“Are you seriously texting him right now?” Rafe looks over your shoulder as you sit next to him against his headboard, watching you text your boyfriend.

“I mean… yeah?” You pause mid text to look over at him with a raised eyebrow. “He texted me two hours ago. He's going to start getting suspicious if I don’t text back soon. Chill.”

“Chill?” Rafe looks over at you and huffs through his nose as he tongues the inside of his cheek “Nah, I don’t think I will. I’m over him taking up my girl’s time. Taking up my time.”

“Rafe, he’s literally my boyfriend, if anything you’re taking up his time.” You roll your eyes as you continue to type out your text, but it’s cut short again when Rafe rips the phone from your hand. “Dude, what the fuck!”

“Nah, this isn’t gonna work for me. You see, I don’t like to fucking share.” Rafe grabs onto your hair, pulling it so you're forced to look up at him. “And I’m not your fucking dude, I’m your fucking daddy.”

Your eyes roll back and even though you try to hold it in, a whimper escapes you.

“Yeah, that’s fucking right, I own you. Such a pathetic little slut for me, all I have to do is pull your hair and you’re whimpering like a whore.” He tugs at it again, harder this time and you full on moan. “I let you have your little fun with him but it’s done now.”

“You’re the one that said you didn’t want anything serious and then the minute I get a boyfriend you’re acting like this. I’ve still been fucking you this entire time!!” You wiggle against his hold and he pulls your face closer to his so you can feel his warm breath fanning out against your lips.

“You know what? I’m done with your fuckin’ attitude.” He lets go of your hair and sets your phone down on the bed so he can undo his shorts. He pushes his boxers down just enough to free his semi hard cock and then holds his hand under your chin. “Spit.”

You gather up spit in your mouth before leaning forward so you can let it drop from your tongue onto his palm, never breaking eye contact with him. He takes his cock in his hand and pumps it a few times until it’s fully hard.

“Sit on it.”

“What? Are you fucking serious right now? Give me my phone, Rafe.” His large hand grips onto your throat as his cobalt eyes bore into yours.

“Sit on my fucking dick, slut.” He squeezes your throat tightly before letting go and leaning back on the headboard, his cock hard and leaking. “I’m not gonna ask again, bunny.”

You crawl over to him, throwing your leg over him so you can straddle him with your clothed pussy hovering just over his tip. You push your panties to the side before slowly sliding down onto his cock.

“Yeah, that’s it, I guess you can be a good girl.” You go to push your skirt up so he can see himself splitting you open just like he loves but he stops you. Rafe grips onto your ass, pushing you down so your hips are flush against his and his cock is so deep in you that it makes your eyes roll back. “Keep your skirt down, and don’t fuckin’ move.”

Rafe picks up your phone again, opening up the camera app. He grips onto your jaw, pulling your face to the side so you’re looking at the camera.

“Open your mouth, slut.” He shoves his fingers between your lips and you wrap them around his digits. You know what he’s going to do. And you know it’s fucked up. But that never seems to matter to you with Rafe. Especially when he gets you like this. “Now give the camera those big ol’ innocent eyes I know you give him when you’re acting like I don’t hit it raw every night.”

You look at the camera and Rafe leans in so he can run his tongue across your face as he snaps the picture. He grips onto your jaw, pulling your face toward his so he can slam his lips against yours, taking a second picture. He looks at them, pleased, before opening up your texts with your boyfriend, selecting the photos and hitting send.

“And he doesn’t even know that I’m balls deep inside of you, fuckin’ loser.” Rafe mutters before dropping your phone, grabbing onto your hips and thrusting up onto you. He fucks you like he owns you, because he does.

#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe Cameron blurb #rafe concepts #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic

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notiddygothgf · 4 months ago

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ii.

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ You're drunk. ❞ ❝ Not that drunk. ❞

★ c.w.: tension. drinking. reader embarrassing the hell out of herself omg. not beta'd

★ a/n: oh my god i was so excited after the amount of love i got on the last chapter that i absolutely had to rush this one out!!! i was literally ripping my shirt off bc of the tension i just want them to fuck omg. (Jk... not rlly tho stay tuned). anyway if you couldnt tell im super aki hungry lately. this chapter is the result of that. we get to see a different side to the cold blooded captain.... i think yall r gonna like it just trust me ;)

again i apologize for the fast pacing, pls remember that this is a short story! (though shameless was supposed to be short too so who knows i may rewrite it into a longfic teehee). you know the drill! leave lots and lots of comments for me to read and ill make that next chapter come out stat! get ready... its a long one lol xx

★ w.c: .5.2k

pornstar ; chapter index

THE NIGHT – for the most part – had just started. Your drinks, on the other hand, hadn't waited up. You were three beers deep, head perched on your hand, peering at Himeno, who was telling some wild recount of the mission you had just had. Everyone else was listening, too, heads turned, eyes wide while she described the way you had "swooped in and saved the day" (something Hayakawa had chewed you out for).

"She blew a hole straight through the building," She was saying. "But there were no casualties. Talk about precision, am I right?"

And, eyelids droopy as all hell, you laughed, swirling the piss yellow liquid around in your beer mug. The pleasant buzz from the few drinks you'd had were beginning to seep into your skin, warmth washing over you in slow, comforting waves. You basked in it for a moment, tuning out of the conversation being had only a few feet away.

You tuned out and, instead, your attention shifted. You see, it was hard to stay focused when a certain someone you hadn't expected to show up actually wound up pulling through, now seated at the other end of the table looking far too uptight to be at a friendly gathering. He was wearing his Public Safety uniform – the one you had never seen him out of... not that you were thinking about what he looked like out of uniform, or anything like that – and he looked good enough to have you questioning your own sanity.

You swore it was the alcohol – you swore it was. Nothing else could explain the way your pulse thrummed a little harder in your veins when he looked up and caught your gaze, cobalt eyes tearing you apart at the seams. Hair pulled back perfectly into his signature ponytail, not a strand out of place. He hadn't taken off his suit, but you were suddenly rather conscious of how much larger than you he was – of the way he seemed that much taller than you, even when he was sitting down, of the way his suit accentuated his broad shoulders. His jawline was sharp and angular, just like the rest of him, and his eyes... fuck, his eyes...

Were staring right at you.

Biting back a shriek, you averted your gaze, glaring into your lap like that would make the situation any better. You had to take the situation at face value – you had invited your superior out to drinks and were now making a complete and utter fool out of yourself by spending the evening making goo-goo eyes at him.

Oh, and not to mention the fact that you were supposed to hate his fucking guts.

Shaking yourself out of it, you tuned back into Himeno's conversation, trying to latch onto her words like a lifeline.

"So then, this asshole pops out of nowhere—like, I swear to God, he came out of thin air—and he goes for her throat. But!—" She punctuated her words with an exaggerated hand motion, nearly knocking over her beer in the process. "She dodges like it's nothing. I mean, I've never seen reflexes like that. It was unreal."

You managed a laugh, though it came out a little delayed, like your body had to remember how to react. The alcohol had made you sluggish, slow, and the warmth in your chest had turned sticky, clinging to your ribs. You weren't even sure what you were feeling anymore, but something about it didn't sit right.

Your gaze slid back to him—because of course it did. And this time, when you looked, he wasn't looking back.

Instead, Aki's attention was on something else entirely—on someone else. He was speaking to one of the girls from another division. Kobeni, you realized. She was nodding, awkward and stiff, while he spoke, his expression the same measured, unreadable one he always wore.

You let your head drop onto Himeno's shoulder, exhaling through your nose. What the hell is going on between us?

It wasn't like you. You weren't the type to get hung up on things like this. But tonight, the drinks had loosened something in you, and you could feel it unraveling, thread by thread. Aki was a pain in your ass. He was the one constantly calling you reckless, the one always tightening the reins when you stepped even a little out of line. You weren't supposed to care. You weren't supposed to notice how sharp his jaw looked under the dim bar lights or the way his hands moved when he spoke.

And yet.

Himeno, drunker than you were, said nothing about the way you leaned against her, only let her head tilt slightly against yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You shut your eyes for a moment. Maybe if you pretended you weren't watching him, pretended you weren't thinking about this at all, it would stop feeling like something.

But it didn't work.

No, once more, your gaze drifted back to the damn captain. This time, when he spoke to Kobeni, she smiled – wide enough to crease the skin at the corners of her eyes. She was a pretty, young thing. She had pretty eyes and pretty, chestnut brown hair. She was shy and timid and took orders very well – everything you were not.

I wonder if he likes her, You couldn't help but wonder, smile dropping from your face while you observed the two of them in conversation.

A strange feeling clawed its way over your chest. Something you couldn't name. It was a horrible, rotten feeling. One you hadn't felt since you were a highschooler. It sat in your stomach like a brick, burning its way through your arteries, prying at your lips for escape.

It was jealousy.

Oh, what the fuck?

She definitely likes him, you thought. That much was evident by the way she leaned into her superior's space, eagerly taking in every word that left his mouth. Her eyes glimmered with something that made your stomach churn.

It was jealousy, you knew that, but... why? Why him? Why now?

Why the fuck did you even care?

Why did you feel jealous over a man you hated?

Himeno's hand on your shoulder shook you out of your drunken gaze. You perked up, lifting your head from the crook in her shoulder, turning your attention away from the scene in front of you so you could dedicate all of your attention to someone more deserving of it.

"You know, kohai," She giggled, face flushed with a drunken shade. "You're really pretty."

Am I in the twilight zone?

You smiled at her, "That's coming from you."

"Oh, shut up," The woman replied, batting you away with your hands, laughing up a storm. "I wanna ask you... ask you 'sumthin."

You knit your brows together, pursing your lips. "What's up?"

She looked at you, then, lashes fluttering over her one good eye, mischief written all over her face. You knew you shouldn't have asked, but you were even more shocked by her answer, "Would you kiss me?"

You laughed at that – you couldn't help it, truly. Himeno had kissed just about every person in the division (though you weren't sure if that excluded a certain stuck-up bastard, and you were even less sure that you wanted to ask). Still, it was because of that fact that you knew her request was harmless. It was... just her way of showing love while drunk. She couldn't help it.

"I didn't know you could swing that way, Himeno," You laughed.

"I've never tried– hic– tried," She shrugged, as if she was asking the easiest question in the entire world. "'M jussst... curious, aren't you?"

You answered back, "Not really."

And she pouted at that – like she was a child and not a drunk-ass, grown-ass woman, "Why not? Am I not your type?"

No, but apparently someone else is.

Peering down at the table, vision a little hazy, you polished off the rest of your beer. Then, you added, "You could say that."

Why do I feel drunker than I did a few minutes ago?

"Who's your type, then?" She asked, leaning forward, all up into your personal space, and it would have bothered you if it was anyone else, "Do you like girls? Guys?"

"Never really explored, but..." You hummed. The beer made its way down the back of your throat, warming your vocal chords, your stomach, your chest. "Guys, I guess."

Then that devilish little grin of hers was back on her face. "If you could fuck anyone here, then, who would it be?"

"Sober or drunk?" You laughed, setting your empty mug down with a soft clink.

Himeno cackled, tipping forward slightly in her seat. The alcohol had turned her loose, made her limbs sluggish and her voice louder than she probably realized. "A few shots, maybe. Not drunk."

You hummed, drumming your fingers against the table, pretending to give it some thought. But the answer was already there, sitting heavy in the back of your mind, waiting for a moment of weakness to slip through the cracks.

Captain Hayakawa.

The name surfaced so quickly, so naturally, that it startled you. And before you could stop yourself, before you could even pretend to fight it, your gaze flickered back to him.

Big mistake.

Because Himeno caught it immediately.

She gasped, sharp and dramatic, smacking a hand over her mouth like she had just witnessed a crime scene. It was so loud, so cartoonish, that a few people turned to look, and you had to resist the urge to sink into your seat.

"No fucking way," she whispered, but there was nothing subtle about the gleam in her eye. She practically vibrated with excitement, like she'd just stumbled upon the juiciest piece of gossip imaginable. Then, with a grin, she leaned in, voice hushed but not nearly hushed enough. "You're hot for captain?"

You snapped your head toward her so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. "No—no, no," you hissed, gripping her forearm in a weak attempt to physically shut her up. "Shut up, Himeno."

She wasn't having it. She wiggled her brows at you, eyes twinkling with amusement. "No fucking way," she repeated, drawing out every syllable like she was savoring them. "I thought you hated his guts."

"I do," you shot back, a little too fast, a little too forceful. It was immediate. Instinctive. A reflex.

And she noticed.

The look on her face turned downright smug.

"I don't have the hots for him," you corrected, shaking your head, willing your face to cool down even as it burned. "Now would you keep it down?"

Himeno held up her hands in surrender, but there was something devious in the way she did it, like she was still holding onto the truth of the situation, just waiting for the right moment to pry it back open.

She sat back slightly, but then, after a beat—because of course she couldn't just leave it at that—she leaned in again, voice dipping lower, eyes gleaming. "If you were a little drunker, though..."

You groaned, slapping a hand over your face. "Enough," you hissed, dragging out the word, but your voice lacked bite.

She was full-on giggling now, shoulders shaking, thoroughly enjoying your suffering.

Then, her laughter faded—just a little—and she tilted her head, giving you a look that was too knowing, too amused. "Not even a kiss?"

"No," you said, firm. But somehow, it didn't feel quite as firm as it should have.

The night went smoothly after that. Drinks and conversation were flowing, you were sufficiently drunk, and the lot of you were laughing loud enough to disturb any of the other patrons who came to this poor izakaya to get moderately tipsy.

The drinks kept coming, conversation swelling louder with each round, the izakaya thick with smoke and the scent of grilled meat. You were properly drunk, the kind where your limbs felt loose, where laughter came too easily, where everything should've been fun, should've been easy.

Except it wasn't.

Because across the table, Aki was still talking to Kobeni.

And you didn't care. You didn't.

You had no reason to. You weren't friends. You weren't anything. If anything, you hated his guts—his quiet, know-it-all demeanor, his stupid pretty face, the way he always acted so fucking above it all. Like he was better than the rest of you just because he didn't get sloppy drunk, didn't fuck around, didn't let things get to him.

And yet—

Your drink was empty again. When had that happened? You barely remembered drinking it. You reached for the bottle to pour yourself more, but your hand wasn't as steady as you wanted it to be. Himeno laughed beside you, grabbing the bottle before you could knock it over.

"Take it easy," she teased, topping off your glass anyway.

You snorted. "I'm fine."

Himeno grinned, and for a moment, you let yourself focus on her instead. It was easier. She was warm, easy to be around, all teasing smiles and the kind of confidence that made everything feel simple.

But then—

Another laugh from across the table. Aki's.

You hadn't even known he could laugh like that, low and quiet, the kind that didn't come often. Your stomach twisted before you could stop it, your head snapping toward him on instinct.

Kobeni was leaning in, her hands curled in her lap, nodding at whatever he'd said. And Aki—he wasn't even looking at her anymore, just staring down at his drink, lips twitching like he wasn't sure if he should be amused or annoyed.

You clenched your jaw.

It wasn't like they were doing anything.

Aki wasn't flirting—he wasn't the type. You knew that. He wasn't the kind of guy to lean in too close, to lower his voice just enough to make someone's breath hitch, to toy with people the way Himeno did. He was the exact opposite—quiet, serious, all sharp edges and self-control.

And yet, there was something unbearable about the way he was sitting there, across the table, listening to Kobeni like she was worth listening to.

She was talking—some pointless, forgettable thing, probably about work—but her body language spoke louder than her words. The way she fidgeted with her glass, how she kept sneaking glances at him, how her voice wavered slightly before picking up again, like she was hesitating before every sentence. She was nervous. And that alone made you feel like something was pressing against your ribs, like a slow, smoldering ember was settling somewhere beneath your skin.

She was trying.

Trying to impress him. Trying to be seen by him.

And Aki—Aki, idiot that he was—just sat there, unreadable as ever, nodding along, responding just enough to keep the conversation going but not enough to give anything away. Not pushing her away. Not shutting her down.

Letting her talk. Letting her have his attention.

Your fingers tightened around your drink.

It was stupid.

You didn't even like him.

You weren't sure if you even respected him. Half the time, you couldn't stand him—his rules, his orders, the way he always acted so damn above it all. You'd seen him roll his eyes at you more times than you could count, seen the way he sighed when you got under his skin. You weren't his type, and he sure as hell wasn't yours.

So you had no reason—none at all—to feel that awful, simmering thing curling in your stomach.

Maybe it was just the alcohol.

Or maybe it was something uglier.

Maybe it was the fact that if Aki ever looked at you the way Kobeni looked at him, you wouldn't know what the fuck to do with it. Maybe it was the idea that he could like someone like her—quiet, nervous, too polite for her own good—when all he ever did with you was act like you were a fucking nuisance.

Maybe it was that, deep down, you had always assumed Aki didn't have the capacity to like anyone at all.

And now, watching him sit there, watching Kobeni work up the nerve to inch closer, to brush her fingers against the edge of his sleeve like she was testing the waters—you weren't so sure anymore.

You downed your drink, jaw tightening.

Himeno nudged you, her voice playful but perceptive. "You're awfully quiet," she mused, lips quirking.

You exhaled sharply, barely processing the words before your own were spilling out.

"I changed my mind."

Himeno blinked. "Huh?"

You didn't think.Didn't hesitate. Didn't second-guess yourself.

Your hand curled into the fabric of Himeno's collar, tugging her forward with more force than necessary. There was barely a beat of surprise before your lips crashed against hers, the alcohol burning hot in your veins, your pulse hammering in your ears.

The izakaya erupted around you. A chair scraping against the floor, a loud whistle, the sharp intake of breath from someone—Kobeni, probably. Laughter. Someone shouting something half-coherent in encouragement. The kind of scene that would normally make you self-conscious, make you want to shrink away from the attention.

But you didn't shrink away.

Because Himeno kissed you back.

And she kissed you like she meant it.

Her lips tasted like warm sake, sweet and sharp, the scent of cigarette smoke clinging faintly to her. Her fingers slid up your neck, slow and deliberate, curling at the base of your skull. She deepened the kiss, tilting her head just enough to press closer, her breath mingling with yours.

For a second, it was grounding.

For a second, the heat of it, the weight of her hands, the press of her body against yours—it was enough to drown out the gnawing, ugly feeling twisting in your stomach.

You could feel her smirk against your mouth. Himeno had always been good at this—at teasing, at making things feel light, easy. Like none of it had to mean anything.

When she pulled back, her grin was lazy, her eyes lidded and amused. Her fingers stayed in your hair, playing absently with the strands.

"Damn," she murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear, "You kiss like a man. I like it."

The words should've embarrassed you.

Should've made you regret it.

But you just laughed, breathless. It felt a little hollow.

Because when you glanced toward Aki's seat—

He was gone.

Your stomach dropped, the lightness of the moment collapsing in on itself.

And just like that, the heat you'd felt seconds ago twisted into something unbearable.

The room was too loud. Too warm. The laughter too sharp, the smell of alcohol suddenly cloying. Himeno was still watching you, her teasing smile lingering, but you couldn't focus on any of it.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides.

It shouldn't have mattered. It didn't matter. But your heart was pounding anyway, and suddenly the room felt too loud, the heat of it unbearable. Himeno was still looking at you, a teasing remark likely on the tip of her tongue, but you couldn't focus on any of it.

That asshole, you thought – ideas ruminating in your mind. I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind, leaving with no excuse like that.

You pushed your chair back, barely hearing the legs scrape against the floor.

"Where are you—?" Himeno started, but you were already moving, shoving past the press of bodies, stepping outside.

The night air hit you immediately, a sharp contrast to the stifling warmth of the izakaya. The street was damp from earlier rain, neon lights from nearby signs reflecting off the slick pavement. The noise from inside was muffled now, like it belonged to a different world.

You didn't stop until you came face-to-face with an intimidating figure. You exhaled slowly, breath curling in the cold. And then—

Aki.

He stood a few steps away, his back against the wall, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He wasn't smoking it, not yet—just twirling it absently, gaze fixed on some distant point down the street. His expression was unreadable, the way it always was.

And he was devastatingly handsome, even now – fucking asshole.

Biting back a drunk little grin – and realizing that you knew damn well you would never, ever have done this sober – you approached him, hips swaying from side to side. Whether the motion was due to your trying to come off as enticing or due to the copious amounts of sake and beer you had ingested, you weren't sure. Hell, you weren't sure about anything anymore.

And, the moment those baby blues of his flicked up to meet your gaze, you immediately regretted coming out to find him. The fact that he was perceiving you now in such a drunken state was enough to have your heart beating against your ribs like an animal at the zoo (but not enough to make you back down now that you had him alone). You knew it was stupid, fuck, you should have turned back on your heel and gone back the way you had come, but you couldn't stop yourself.

No, I have to give him a piece of my mind.

His eyes dropped down to your outfit – the little black dress you definitely hadn't picked out with him in mind, making sure that it revealed just the right amount of cleavage, hugged you in all of the right places – and then back up to your face. The movement was small, almost perceptible, but in your wasted state, you were hyperconscious of his every move, of the way his eyes widened when they saw you, the way you could smell the scent of him from where you were standing, masculine, woody, ambery cologne mingled in with the faintest hint of smoke.

You were so drunk that you were practically seeing two of him until you refocused your eyes. So drunk that, for a moment, you couldn't say anything – realizing that you had forgotten to come up with an excuse to see him at that moment – and neither could he.

You were the first one to break the silence. "You're such an asshole."

He didn't look the slightest bit phased by your words. Instead, he reached into his pocket and searched for his lighter, holding it up to the end of the cigarette and striking the wheel until the flame took.

"You just... left," You swallowed, throat suddenly very dry.

He held the cigarette up to his lips, popping it between them like it was the most natural thing in the world, taking a deep breath. You watched the tension melt away from his shoulders, smelled the nicotine as it wafted up into the air around you.

Then, finally, he glanced at you, raising an eyebrow, "Yeah."

Your pulse jumped at the sound of his voice for no reason whatsoever. Pouting, you crossed your arms, damn near stumbling as you did so, "You didn't even say anything. No goodbye, no nothing."

"I was stepping out for a smoke," He breathed smoke out into the air. "Didn't think I needed to."

God, he pissed you off. Him and... his... his beautiful, blue eyes, and... fuck.

"You could at least pretend to be fun sometimes," You muttered – you thought it was beneath your breath, but when you caught the way his head tilted at your words, you knew that wasn't the case. So, instead of apologizing for insubordination like you probably should have done, you decided to dig your grave a little deeper. "You just sit in there– hic– all stiff, barely... barely drinkin', actin' like– like you're... too good for the rest of us."

"I'm tipsy enough," He hummed. "Not that that's any of your business, and I wasn't acting like anything."

Now, this was the point where any sane person would have dropped to their knees and apologized to him.

Not you, though.

No, the liquid courage coursing through your veins deluded you into thinking that you could talk some sense into him.

Actually, what came out was something entirely different.

"You were all over Kobeni," You narrowed your eyes. The words left your lips before you could even stop them. Immediately, regret settled in your chest, washing over you in waves – making your face burn.

There's no way I just said that to him, you chastised yourself internally, Fuck, I'm gonna be fired.

Aki didn't react at first. Just stared at you. Then, after a beat, he let out a short, dry sigh.

"You're drunk."

You pouted, "Not that drunk." (Which was a total lie. You were practically smelling colors).

He studied you again with those fucking... hawk eyes of his, gaze sharp in a way that made your skin crawl with anxiety. He wasn't looking at you the way Kobeni had looked at him – wasn't waiting for something, hoping for something. But he was looking at you.

Finally looking at you. And somehow, that was worse.

"She was asking me about an upcoming assignment," He commented, voice flat. You should have been grateful that he had even decided to humor you and your drunk interrogation, realistically. "That's it."

He's... surprisingly patient today.

I wonder how far I can push him until he snaps, you thought, not really knowing why – or, for that matter, what the hell had crawled into your brain to control you and make all of these stupid decisions.

You huffed, "Oh."

"Yeah," He pulled another hit from his cigarette, and this time, you observed him – the sinful way his lips wrapped around the end of it, cherry glowing orange while he took another deep breath. Then, you watched him breathe the smoke out through his nose. "You're a real pain in my ass. You know that?"

You didn't know why – the same way you didn't know why everything was happening, but you laughed. It was more like a giggle, really, a bubbly, drunken noise that you practically choked out. Either way, it was enough to have him looking at you like you had two heads.

You stumbled a little closer to him and, to your surprise, he didn't inch away. Instead, his gaze followed your sluggish movements, different, this time – like a cat eyeing up a naive little mouse. Like you were prey.

"What the hell's gotten into you tonight?" He asked.

Stumbling over your feet, you braced your hands on the wall in front of you, dropping your head and laughing a little harder. Truthfully, you didn't know why you were laughing. Nothing was funny. None of this was funny.

Even more truthfully – as you peeled your gaze up from the ground, from Aki's shoes, you realized that you weren't leaning on a wall at all.

You were leaning on him.

I'm fucking dead, you thought. If I wake up tomorrow, I'll be handed a letter of termination.

You met his gaze head-on, half-lidded eyes peering up at him through your lashes. He didn't break eye-contact this time. No, he was looking at you the same way you were looking at him – like neither of you knew why any of this was happening, like you weren't quite sure if you wanted it to stop, either, even though you knew it should.

You could see it again – the faint shift in his expression, in the way he looked at you. Something had definitely changed. There was an unreadable glint in his eyes. Maybe if you were sober, you would have been able to tell what it was.

Then again, if you were sober, you would have done the right thing tonight and stayed inside. You certainly wouldn't have been there, leaning on his shoulder, looking up at him and realizing that everything was different.

It wasn't just the alcohol. No, he was different.

"I hope you're not driving home," He commented, though his voice lacked its usual tenor, its usual confidence. "Not like this."

Why's he actin' so weird?

"Since when did you care?" You pouted. When he said nothing, you answered. "Okay, I walked here."

"Good," He sighed.

"You wanna walk me home?"

The words slurred out before you could even process them, and you immediately regretted asking. Aki, cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers, exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching you from the corner of his eye, but his gaze didn't soften.

"No."

His response was quick, firm, and just a little too cold. But the way his gaze flickered over you, almost a little too long, made you wonder if he wasn't as unaffected as he wanted you to think.

You blinked, not entirely sure what you were expecting but not that. "Why not?" you asked, and your voice came out more whiny than you'd intended.

Aki didn't immediately answer, flicking the cigarette ash onto the ground, the ember glowing brighter for a brief second. He looked at you, expression unreadable for a moment. Then, his voice was low and tired. "Because I don't feel like it."

You frowned, feeling the weight of his words tug at your chest, though you couldn't fully explain why. "Lame," you muttered. You weren't sure what you were even getting at anymore, but the thought of being alone tonight felt worse than anything else.

He eyed you for a second, but there was something softer in his expression now. Maybe it was the alcohol kicking in for him, too. "You're drunk," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you weren't sure was out of discomfort or something else.

You smiled—more like a crooked grin, but you couldn't help it. "I'm not that drunk," you protested, but you swayed on your feet as you said it, and he didn't look convinced.

Aki's lips curled into something between a smirk and a sigh, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh. Sure, you're not." His eyes flicked to yours again, a little too keen for someone who was supposed to be this dismissive.

"I just... don't wanna be alone," you muttered, the words coming out before you even realized you were saying them.

Aki stared at you for a long moment, and you swore there was a flicker of something in his gaze—annoyance? Amusement? But it passed just as quickly. "Well, that's your problem," he said with a dry chuckle, his tone flat, as though he were trying to make it clear he didn't want to hear it. "Not mine."

You stumbled slightly, both from the alcohol and the sting of his words. "Right," you muttered, trying to steady yourself, feeling the warm rush of liquid courage running through you. But as you stood there, looking up at him, something started to sink in. This was Aki. You knew him. Knew his moods. His indifference. But this, tonight—something was different.

"I... just," you began, trying to find the right words, but they came out jumbled. "Just... help me, okay?" The desperation was there, but you weren't sure if he saw it.

His eyes softened slightly, the sharpness in them dulling just a little as his cigarette burned down to a stub. "Help you? What, do you expect me to just babysit you?"

You winced at the word, the thought stinging more than it should have. "No," you murmured, taking a step closer to him. "I just..." You trailed off, biting your lip. The alcohol was starting to cloud your thoughts even more, but you couldn't shake the feeling that if you didn't convince him now, you'd really be on your own. And you couldn't handle that tonight.

Aki raised an eyebrow at you, clearly unsure of what you were getting at. "What?" he asked, a little too bluntly for your liking.

You stared up at him, breath a little shaky. "Please," you repeated, but this time, there was something more vulnerable in your tone. "Pleeeeeeeasee."

The words felt like a weight that had to be lifted, but they also made you feel foolish. You weren't that drunk. You weren't. But the world felt like it was spinning out of control, and you didn't know where to place your feet anymore.

Aki took a deep breath, dragging a hand down his face as if trying to process everything you'd just said. There was no edge in his voice anymore, just a weariness that made you wonder if you weren't the only one who'd had too much to drink.

"You're really something," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don't even know why I'm putting up with this."

"I'll cry," you said, half-laughing, half-serious. The words felt ridiculous, but they slipped out anyway, desperate in their simplicity.

Aki's gaze softened a little, though the smirk that tugged at his lips was almost imperceptible. "Go ahead," he said, voice flat, but his eyes held something deeper.

The silence stretched between you as you waited for him to backpedal, to somehow take back that easy dismissal. But instead, his shoulders sagged, and he sighed, long and loud. He took a last drag from his cigarette, flicked it to the ground, and ground it out beneath his heel.

"Fine," he muttered, and the words caught you off guard. "I'll walk you home."

For a moment, you didn't believe him, like the weight of what he was agreeing to was still sinking in. You blinked, slightly stunned. "Wait, really?"

He shot you an incredulous look, though his eyes softened just a little, like he was too tired to argue anymore. "Yeah, really. Can we go now, before you start actually crying?"

You blinked, a small, unsteady laugh slipping from your lips. You hadn't expected him to cave so easily, and it made you feel like you'd gotten away with something. But then, the weight of what you'd just gotten him to agree to settled in. You didn't want to push your luck any further.

Aki took a step back and gestured toward the door of the izakaya, his voice dropping lower. "We can't leave together. Not like this. If people see us leaving at the same time, it'll look weird."

The realization hit you. Of course. Everyone had been watching you all night, and there was no way you could just stroll out of there with him without someone noticing. "Right," you mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed at how quickly you'd forgotten about that. "Okay. You go first."

He nodded, his expression softening just a touch. "I'll wait a few minutes, make it look like I'm staying." He gave you a dry look, his lips curling into that familiar smirk. "Try not to make a scene on your way out. Himeno's gonna wonder what's going on."

You winced, the reminder of Himeno's playful teasing still fresh in your mind. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine," you muttered, more to yourself than to him. You were still trying to process the fact that Aki—Aki—had actually agreed to walk you home.

He gave you a brief nod before turning to head toward the back of the bar, disappearing behind a row of drunken patrons and laughter, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the noise inside.

You took a deep breath and steadied yourself, trying to ignore the swirl of thoughts that followed you like a second layer of fog. You'd barely had enough time to process everything that had happened between you two tonight, let alone now have to pretend like nothing was different.

You swayed a little as you turned back toward the group, feeling that odd combination of exhilaration and dread settling in your chest. When you reached Himeno's side, she was already watching you with that sly little grin of hers. She could probably read you like a book, even if you were still half-drunk.

You straightened your shoulders, trying to force a smile. "I'm heading out," you told her, your voice still a little shaky. "Long day tomorrow."

Himeno raised an eyebrow but said nothing for a moment, like she was trying to make sense of something you weren't telling her. "Uh-huh. Sure," she replied, her voice a little too casual for your liking. "Alright. Be careful. You arewalking home, right?"

You nodded quickly, swallowing down a lump in your throat. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I'll be fine."

Himeno eyed you for a beat longer before shrugging. "Okay. Have a good night," she said, her smile unreadable.

With that, you gave her a brief wave and turned to walk out of the izakaya. The door swung open, the chilly night air rushing in and hitting you like a bucket of cold water. You paused just outside, feeling the weight of the night settle around you.

Aki had said he'd wait a few minutes, and you weren't sure whether to be nervous or relieved.

Your feet shifted restlessly, the cold air biting at your skin as you leaned against the brick of the building, trying to look casual—like you weren't waiting for him at all.

You glanced around. The street was quieter now, with fewer people out and about, but still, the idea of walking home with Aki felt... strange. The thought of him so close to you, especially after everything that had happened, was almost more than you could handle.

Just when you thought maybe it'd be better to leave and get it over with, you heard footsteps behind you. Aki's figure appeared through the dim light, moving with the usual purposeful strides that somehow felt different tonight.

Without saying anything, he walked past you, his shoulder brushing yours just slightly as he headed down the street. He didn't stop, didn't turn around, and you could feel the shift in the air. The tension between you was undeniable now.

For a moment, you just stood there, your feet feeling rooted to the spot. You weren't sure what to do. You didn't want to make it obvious that you were waiting for him, but at the same time, you couldn't shake the odd sense of unease creeping over you. What was happening? What wasn't happening?

Finally, you exhaled, pushing yourself off the wall and walking slowly toward him. You didn't call out; it wasn't like you had to. It was clear that he wasn't planning on walking that far away from you.

Aki moved at a steady pace, hands shoved into his pockets as he walked ahead, the cool breeze tugging at the collar of his jacket. You felt a weird, unfamiliar pressure building in your chest as you matched his steps, not sure if you were keeping your distance on purpose or if it was because you didn't know where to start.

When you reached his side, you glanced at him briefly. He didn't acknowledge you, not really. It was like you were walking side-by-side by accident, like this was just some strange, unspoken part of the night that neither of you could quite comprehend.

You couldn't help yourself. "So," you started, your voice a little wobbly. "I didn't think you'd actually do it."

Aki turned his head, those sharp eyes of his flicking over you. "What? Walk you home?" he asked, voice rough around the edges. He didn't look at you like he normally did. There was something more distant about it, almost like the alcohol had drawn a line between you.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his presence beside you. "Yeah. Didn't think you were... I don't know, the type."

He snorted softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I'm not," he muttered, as if it was obvious. "But you were whining enough to make me reconsider."

Your stomach twisted at the thought of how easily he gave in to you tonight, like it was no big deal. But then again, you weren't sure if that was comforting or more uncomfortable.

You walked a little further before speaking again, your voice barely above a whisper. "So, what now?" You were almost afraid to ask, but at the same time, you had to know. Was this just a one-off thing? Was he going to pretend none of this had happened?

Aki didn't answer right away. Instead, he kicked a small rock out of the way, his eyes focused straight ahead. "We're going to your place," he said, his tone back to its usual flatness. "Wherever that is."

You didn't know why, but you couldn't shake the knot of disappointment tightening in your chest.

Before you could process it, Aki's voice broke through your thoughts again, low and dry.

"You good, or you gonna keep asking me questions?"

You swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of your drunken haze. "I'm good."

A moment passed. You paid close attention to the sound of your heels on the pavement, the sound of his sneakers touching the same surface.

"I just realized I don't even know your address," He added, almost like he felt bad about shutting you up.

"I live at the– uh... you know where the post office is?" You rattled off the top of your head. He seemed like a man with a good sense of direction.

He nodded.

"Okay, well, I live right across from it. At the apartment complex," You finished.

His eyes narrowed, "That's only three blocks away."

"Yup," You nodded.

"You really couldn't walk that on your own?" He reiterated.

"Nope."

The cold air against your skin had sobered you just enough to think more clearly, but you still couldn't shake the feeling that something was... off. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol still buzzing through your system or the strange tension between the two of you, but the air felt heavy.

Aki was walking beside you, as stoic as ever, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He hadn't said much since you left the izakaya, and you weren't sure if that was his usual silence or if something else was bothering him. Either way, it had you on edge, and you couldn't resist breaking the silence.

"So... tonight's been pretty weird, huh?" you said, glancing sideways at him as you tried to read his expression. You needed something from him, but you weren't sure what.

Aki didn't respond right away. He just gave you a quick glance, his sharp eyes flickering over you before he answered. "Weird how?"

You shrugged, feeling the alcohol's effects still lingering on your tongue. "I don't know. You've been quieter than usual."

Aki didn't seem particularly moved by that observation. "I'm not in the mood for small talk."

You exhaled in frustration, rubbing your eyes with your sleeve. "I guess not. But it's just... I've been acting weird tonight. Doing things I wouldn't normally do."

"Like what?" Aki asked, his voice flat but with a slight hint of curiosity.

"I kissed Himeno," you blurted, half-smiling to yourself at how ridiculous it sounded coming out of your mouth. You almost regretted saying it. But it had to be said, right?

Aki's head turned just slightly, but his face didn't change. "Yeah, and?"

You blinked, a little caught off guard by how quickly he dismissed it. "You know... it was a kiss. Just... fun, I guess."

"Fun," Aki repeated, though his voice was laced with a certain dryness. "Right."

You kept walking, feeling an odd twist in your stomach at how unbothered he was. You'd expected more of a reaction—something. Maybe you were wrong about trying to make him jealous. Maybe he didn't care at all.

But you didn't want to admit that. Instead, you pressed on. "She's a good kisser, though. Didn't think she had it in her."

Aki shot you another glance, his lips pressed together in a thin line. You could see the faintest shift in his expression, but it was gone so quickly you weren't sure if you imagined it. "Himeno, huh? You really go for the easy ones, don't you?"

It was a subtle jab, but it still managed to hit something inside of you. "I wouldn't say 'easy,'" you muttered, trying to shrug it off. "But yeah, I guess I've got a thing for—what?—fun, spontaneous stuff. You know, the kind of thing you wouldn't normally do."

Aki didn't answer right away, and the silence stretched between you. You could feel his eyes on you, but it wasn't the usual detached kind of look. No, this time, it felt like something more. Something that tugged at you, made your chest tighten in a way that was impossible to ignore.

"I've heard she's kissed just about everyone in the division. Wanted to see what the hype is all about," You tried again, "Have you tried it?"

Finally, Aki spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't kiss my coworkers. If it was just fun, then why are you still talking about it?"

You stumbled in your step, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten. "I don't know," you admitted, your voice a little unsteady. "Maybe I just wanted to see if it would get a rise out of you."

What the fuck.

Why did I just say that?

Aki didn't look at you, but you could feel the slight shift in his posture. His shoulders tensed, just a little, as if he were trying to suppress something. "And what would you do if it did?"

"I don't know," you said, a little too quickly. "I just wanted to see if I could get you to show some... something. You know? Anything. You're always so cold towards me."

Aki was quiet for a moment, his jaw tightening as if he were holding something back. "You're a pain in the ass."

You almost laughed at that, a little breathless. "Yeah, I know."

But there was still something there. Something in the way he'd said it—something just beneath the surface. You weren't sure if it was jealousy, but it was definitely something. Aki wasn't being completely himself, and it was enough to make your heart beat just a little faster. But you weren't sure if it was what you thought it was.

"Did it work?"

Aki suddenly stopped walking, and you nearly collided with him. He turned to face you, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that made your breath catch. "Don't start up again. You're drunk."

You smiled, a little too wide, too tipsy to care. "I'm not that drunk," you said, though the slur in your words gave you away.

Aki's eyes narrowed just slightly, his expression unreadable. "You're still making me walk you home."

You shrugged, too giddy to care. "Yeah, guess so. I'm... not really in any shape to walk by myself."

He muttered something under his breath, a faint exhale through his nose that could have been a laugh, but it wasn't. It was something else. "You're lucky I'm not putting you in a cab."

You grinned at that, though you felt a twinge of something you couldn't quite explain. "You're just saying that 'cause you're being nice tonight."

Aki shot you a quick glance. For a moment, the playful banter fell away, and there was an unexpected quiet between you. You both kept walking, the sound of your footsteps the only thing filling the space between you. It was hard to tell if anything had changed, but it felt different somehow. The weight of the night was still there, but there was something new, too—a strange kind of closeness.

You turned to look at him again, but this time, the words caught in your throat. You didn't want to ask him, not now, not when you didn't know if it was a mistake.

But then, in a flash, you tripped.

Your heel caught on the uneven pavement, and you felt your body lurch forward. Before you could even react, Aki was there, his hand gripping your waist with surprising gentleness, steadying you before you could fall.

"Careful," he muttered, though his tone was almost... softer than usual.

He's so hot.

He's so hot and I'm tired of hiding it, you thought. Why do I want him?

Fuck! He's such an asshole.

"I'm fine," you said, shaking it off with a breathless laugh. "I'm just a mess tonight."

Aki didn't respond, but you felt his hand tighten around you just a little. The next thing you knew, he had shifted, his arm going around your waist and lifting you effortlessly over his shoulder.

"Hey!" you protested, half-laughing, half-protesting. "Put me down, asshat!"

Aki didn't even glance at you as he started walking again, his tone dry but with a hint of something else beneath it. "You can barely walk straight."

You grinned, a little more giddy than you should have been. "You're gonna hurt yourself!"

"Relax," He sighed. Still, he handled you with a dizzying ease. Like you didn't weigh anything at all.

I knew he was strong, but...

"Do you work out?" You spat out.

He didn't respond, his steps measured and steady, though there was something... different.

"Of course I do," He answered, like that should have been obvious. "Never know when I'll have to carry a drunk idiot back to their apartment."

His posture was firmer than usual, and for a split second, you could have sworn there was a small, satisfied edge to his voice. Maybe you weren't imagining it.

The night was still strange, but as Aki carried you through the darkened streets, you couldn't help but wonder just how much of this was real—and how much was a game you both were playing without even realizing it.

Aki carried you up the three blocks with the same steady pace, his grip around your waist unwavering as the night air nipped at your skin. Each step he took was deliberate, his posture firm, almost casual as though carrying you wasn't the slightest bit out of the ordinary. But you could feel his muscles shift under the weight of you, his body solid against yours, and it was hard to ignore how easy he made it look.

For a moment, it felt like the entire world had faded out—just you, him, and the soft thud of his footsteps on the pavement.

The dark streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the sidewalk as you glanced at the city around you. Aki's pace didn't falter as he walked, but you were still aware of how close you were to him, how warm the space between you had become. It was like there was an invisible tension that grew the further you got to your building, one that neither of you could shake, no matter how casual the night seemed.

You shifted on his shoulder, trying to adjust, but the dizzying sway made you a little unsteady. "You really don't have to carry me, you know," you muttered, half-laughing at the absurdity of it all. "I'm not a child."

Aki didn't respond immediately. His fingers tightened just a little, a firm grip that told you he wasn't letting go until you were safely where you needed to be. Finally, he let out a quiet breath and murmured, "You're acting like one."

You rolled your eyes, but it wasn't like you could do anything about it. You were too comfortable in his hold, too grateful for how effortlessly he was handling the situation. "Okay, Dad, fff-fuck you."

You really needed to learn how to hold your own liquor.

"Not my fault you need someone to take care of you when you drink," Aki muttered, but the words held a different meaning. You didn't know if it was the alcohol or just your imagination, but there was something softer, almost protective in his tone. The walls he usually kept up were still there, but they were cracked just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something else.

Before you knew it, the three blocks had passed, and Aki had stopped right in front of your apartment building. He gently set you down on your feet, but you wobbled as soon as your heels hit the ground.

"Careful," Aki said, his voice low but with an undercurrent of concern.

You gave a half-hearted attempt at standing straight, but it was futile. "I'm fine," you muttered, your fingers fumbling for your keys in your purse. The alcohol was still buzzing in your head, making it hard to concentrate, but you finally felt the familiar cool metal of the key between your fingers. "Just—just give me a second."

Then, you dropped the damn thing. It fell to the floor with a frustrating clatter. With a groan, you bent over, plucking them off the ground and–

For a moment, you could have sworn you saw his eyes lingering on your backside.

No, it's just a trick of the light, you thought, I'm fucking plastered.

Still, it made you straighten up a little faster than you probably should have, locking eyes with him as you regained your balance. His expression was unreadable, but you didn't miss the way his lips tightened slightly, like he was keeping himself in check. Or maybe it was just his usual lack of interest. Either way, the tension between you two wasn't lost on you.

"Thanks for walking me, Captain," you said, trying to brush it off and make light of the moment. You threw in a sloppy salute, the gesture clumsy and half-hearted. You weren't even sure why you'd done it. Maybe to break the silence. Maybe because you needed to be something other than nervous.

Aki raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You really trying to salute me now?"

You just grinned, more out of awkwardness than anything else, and straightened yourself up again. "It's the least I can do. I'm lucky I didn't trip over my own feet the whole way."

He rolled his eyes at your antics, but there was something softer in his gaze as it met yours. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the way the moment had lingered, but something felt a little different, like the usual distance between you both was starting to shrink.

Neither of you spoke for a beat, the silence hanging heavy in the air. You couldn't help but feel the weight of it. You knew you were both trying to act like this was just another night—nothing special, just a little drunk and out of place—but there was something in the quiet. Maybe it was the way Aki was standing a little closer, or how his usual guarded expression had softened, just a little, in a way you weren't used to.

You finally broke the stillness, desperate to fill the void. "You know," you started, your voice just a little slurred, "You're not as bad as you act."

Aki's eyes flicked over to you, his gaze narrowing in that familiar, assessing way. But you could've sworn there was a slight glimmer in his eye, something you couldn't quite read. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You grinned, not entirely sure what you were saying, but the words felt right. "You're actually kind of... cool, under all that grumpy, 'I hate everyone' thing you have going on."

Aki didn't respond right away. Instead, he just stared at you for a moment, like he was weighing the meaning of your words. You weren't sure if you meant it or not, but there was a certain honesty in the moment that you couldn't ignore.

"You don't know what you're saying," he finally muttered, his voice lower than usual, but not in the usual sarcastic way. He was almost... mellow, in a way you hadn't expected.

For a split second, you considered what he said—how he didn't shrug it off immediately, how his expression hadn't closed back up. It wasn't a compliment, not really, but it was something that almost felt like one.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet. "No, really. You're really cute when you're not being an asshole."

Why did I say that? Why did I say that? Why did I say that?

Oh, my god, You winced the moment the words left your lips. You were astronomically fumbling tonight – a feeling that made your whole face flush when you realized what you had said.

Aki said nothing at first. Instead, he just stared at you, his gaze a little too intense, like he was trying to read you, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in your head. You could feel the weight of his silence, his eyes on you, steady but unreadable.

Your heart was pounding, and all you could think about was how stupid you must have looked. You needed to get away from this, away from him, before you embarrassed yourself even more.

But before you could come up with an excuse to leave, Aki spoke again, voice slow and calculated, the usual bite of sarcasm absent. "Fuck you."

It didn't sound like a harsh retort. It didn't even sound annoyed. It sounded almost... amused. Like he wasn't angry, just a little perplexed by you. And you hated how that single, simple phrase made your heart race. You wanted to get away from the tension building between you two, but the magnetic pull only seemed to draw you closer.

"You'd be a hell of a lot cuter if you just... shut the hell up once in a while," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. There was no filter, no hesitation this time, just the raw honesty that came from being tipsy and irritated by how much you'd been holding in all night.

Aki didn't respond at first. His lips barely moved, but you noticed the subtle shift in his expression. Something in his eyes changed, a flicker of something almost... warm? Maybe it was just the alcohol messing with your mind, but you swore you saw it—his usual guardedness faltering, just a little.

You were standing there, staring at him, feeling that rush of warmth in your chest. There was something in the air, something electric and charged. The proximity between you two felt suddenly so close—and it wasn't just the alcohol making your head spin anymore. It was something else, something real.

You wanted to say something else, something to break the silence, but the words got caught in your throat. You could smell him now, that subtle, comforting scent of him that had always been there, but tonight it felt sharper, more intoxicating. His cologne mixed with the warmth of his skin, and it made your thoughts scatter, dizzy and disoriented.

Before you could stop yourself, your body was moving. You weren't sure why, but it was like something inside of you had completely snapped. You wanted him closer, wanted that distance between you erased.

You didn't think. You just acted.

You stumbled toward him, your hand reaching up without hesitation. In one swift movement, you grabbed him by the tie, yanking him down toward you. He was caught off guard for just a second, but his eyes never left yours. You could feel the tension radiating between you as you pulled him closer, your heart pounding in your chest like it was about to break free.

His breath hitched just barely, his body stiffening for the slightest moment, before he relaxed. The shift was subtle, but it was enough for you to notice. The air around you both thickened, the silence stretching between you until it felt suffocating.

Aki didn't speak. He didn't even try to stop you. He just stood there, still and silent, waiting for whatever you were about to do next.

And then, before you could talk yourself out of it, before you could think of all the reasons why this was a bad idea, you kissed him.

a/n: muaaahahaha.... MUAUAAAAAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!! OH MY GODDD AGRHJDSBG i fucking loved writing that last part. i know, hate me all u want for blue balling you. yall know i wont keep u waiting too long tho xx. (jk its a slow burn so i will). (at least the romance aspect is. the smutty aspect? maybe not). please please please let me know what yall thought in the comments, i love love love reading everything you guys have to say. seriously. yall have made my whole entire week LMFAOAOAO. im so glad u love this story as much as i do!! new update should be out soon (not as soon as this one was but who knows we'll see bc im an attention whore and u guys fw this story). ily all xx

credits: einruji__ on twitter . I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | pornstar ; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #csm x reader #aki hayakawa #hayakawa aki x reader #chainsaw man x reader #aki smut #aki fluff

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yummycastiel · 24 days ago

Text

crush- toji.

pairing: high school!Toji x f!reader, Zenin!Toji x f!reader

synopsis: everyone in school knows Toji Zenin, the bad boy who's maybe a little too bad, always in some kind of trouble, and even though you've spoken to him only a handful of times, you develop a hopeless little crush on a boy you want so much even though his fate might be written already. (potential for a part 2? idk i just wrote this)

content/warnings: yearning, high school crush, mentions of guns and violence, tension, strangers to lovers?, Toji and reader are both 18, Toji is a bit of a dick, inspo song is Crush by Ethel Cain, unrequited? love (for now heh)

word count: ~4.7 k

You fiddled with your pencil, tap-tapping it on your strewn papers as you battled your mental block on what to write next. You cursed softly, rubbing your head. This assignment for your psychology class was going to be the death of you, and you usually liked the subject as well. You thought that a quiet, empty space would be enough to help you focus, since the library and lunch hall was a no-go, with the crowds of students messing around after the final bell rang. Words still failed you as you struggled to piece together the supporting points of your thesis statement. You put the pen down, just about to give up when suddenly the door to the classroom crashed open, and the vice-principal strode in, dragging a shaggy-haired Toji Zenin in behind him.

‘’Now you’re going to sit here, Zenin, and you’re going to wait for us to call your family. Don’t even think about leaving or you’ll be in a deeper hole than you already are.’’ The vice-principal spat venomously. You shrank down in your seat at the sight. Oh shit. Right. This was the detention classroom. The two newcomers didn’t seem to notice you as Toji ripped his arm from the adults grip with a hateful glare.

‘’Fuck you.’’ Toji said coldly, his scarred lip turning into a sneer. The vice-principal’s face flushed with anger, sticking a finger into Toji’s face.

‘’Another word and I’ll call the cops instead. Shut up and sit down.’’ He ordered and he spun on his heels, slamming the classroom door shut, but not before he muttered something along the lines of fucking degenerate.

You winced slightly as the door slammed shut, and the room was left in silence. Toji Zenin stalked over to a desk, grabbing a seat and sitting down forcefully. That’s when he noticed you sitting a couple rows away. His cobalt-blue eyes slid over to you, making your skin prickle, and you shrank down lower into your chair.

‘’The fuck are you looking at?’’ He hissed at you, crossing his arms. Your eyes flew back down to your papers, ears burning hot.

Toji Zenin. A senior, just like you. You’d never spoken before but you knew of him. Everyone knew of him. Younger brother of star football player Jinichi Zenin, but their resemblance ended with their jet-black hair. Toji could only be described as troubled, a bad-boy. He’d show up to classes late, if at all, smoke outside on the bleachers with his friends, and get into fights. He was popular without even trying, or caring. His shadiness and dark attitude did nothing but intrigue girls, and guys feared him. Thing was though, Toji Zenin wasn’t just troubled. He was dangerous. He’d been hauled into the police station multiple times for having guns in his locker, only getting off because of his rich, powerful family. He ran with the wrong crowd and rumour had it that he was involved in a lot more than just selling weed to the popular kids.

Your eyes flicked over to Toji’s form as you picked up your pen. You’d only really seen him from afar, he was hard to miss. Tall, muscular, although he always draped himself in baggy dark clothes and a camo jacket. His black hair fell into his narrow eyes, handsome face marked by a scar on his lip. As you examined him from a closer distance, you didn’t exactly find him dangerous, like your friends had warned you. He just looked…defeated. His eyes, when he’d looked at you, were tired. You wondered what his life was like. What drove him to do the things he did. You’d heard his family was a bunch of assholes. His cousin, Naoya Zenin was in grade ten, already a menace, and if the rest of the Zenin were like him, you could understand why Toji was the way that he was, or at least seemed to be. You knew of his father, Naobito Zenin. A powerful man in your city who had recently just been released from prison for ties with organized crime.

You shook yourself from the curious thoughts in your mind. It felt wrong to examine Toji like this, like he was someone to figure out. You looked back down at your papers, trying in vain to focus in the tense silence that surrounded the both of you. Toji slumped in his chair, tapping away on his phone, not sparing you a glance, like you weren’t even there. You sat there, unsure what to do. Should you stay and pretend to do your work? Or would it be more awkward if you got up and left? It wasn’t like you were trying to avoid Toji, but it didn’t seem like he was interested in chatting.

You scribbled a couple more words down on your page, when a slight grumbling sounded out in the silence of the classroom. You risked a glance over at Toji, who was tense in his chair. You heard it again, an unmistakable sound of hunger from his belly that you were all too familiar with yourself. You’d had your stomach growl once or twice at the worst possible times, and you’d always felt like dying right then and there.

Toji clenched his jaw, leaning back in his chair and turning away from you so you couldn’t see his face. A thought popped into your head, and your heart started to beat a little faster as you got up slowly from your chair and started to pack up your things. You reached into your bag, fumbling around for your lunch that you had left forgotten from earlier today. It was two sandwiches, made just the way you liked them. Toji didn’t move as you made your was across the classroom, and as you passed him, you slowed down. Toji kept his gaze forward, but you could see his hand tighten into a fist on his lap.

‘’Here.’’ Was all you said, and you placed your lunch on the desk before him. You’d never been this close to him before. He smelled like cigarette smoke, something dark and woodsy. You didn’t wait to see if Toji would respond or not, quickly moving on and heading to the door, but you chanced a glance back at him. He was looking at you, eyes pinning you to the spot and you felt your heart lurch into your throat. Toji remained silent, his gaze hard, but he reached for the food. You swallowed hard and turned, knocking the door open with your foot and taking your leave without another word. You tried to ignore the warm feeling of satisfaction that bloomed in your chest.

You didn’t see Toji after that for a week. No sign of him in class or anywhere, really. You continued as usual, finishing up that godforsaken psychology assignment, and keeping your head down. You tried to keep Toji out of your thoughts, but he kept creeping back in. Where was he? Had he been expelled? Arrested for whatever the fuck he had gotten into trouble for? Worry curled its tendrils into your gut as you continued your week and it didn’t stop until Friday, when you walked out of the school building.

Toji was leaning against the brick wall, a cigarette in his hands, smoke billowing from his mouth. He was surrounded by his friends, Choso, Sukuna, and Shiu, who were laughing about something you couldn’t hear. Your stomach lurched and you froze, clutching your books to your chest as you stopped not too far from them. Normally, you’d keep your gaze down and avoid these guys, but Toji being there set your heart racing. He looked okay, his face remained as neutral as ever, a lazy smile on his face as he listened to his friends. Then, he noticed you. His eyes travelled over to you, and then his friends looked at you. Your blood went cold as they glanced at you. If Toji had been alone, you might’ve been able to muster up the courage to ask Toji how he was, if he liked the lunch you gave him, but he wasn’t, and all those eyes made your skin crawl. These guys didn’t even know you existed, and now they were staring at you, judging you, as if waiting for you to say something. You glanced at Toji, hoping maybe he’d say something but you knew he wouldn’t. His lips tightened as he regarded you, but he looked away, dismissive. You felt your ears grow hot and you whipped around to face forward, urgently walking away to put distance between you and them. You heard snickers from the group as you fled. I’m a fucking idiot, you thought to yourself.

The weekend passed, and on Monday, you stumbled in through the double-doors of the school. You’d woken up late, the first time in your entire high school career, and you’d rushed like all hell to get to school on time. It was like something out of a stress dream of yours, waking up late, movements in slow-motion, everything going wrong, forgetting things. You finally made it to your locker, the empty hallway further shaming you for being tardy. You fumbled with your lock, turning your combination with practiced ease, and you stuffed your bag into your locker. You were so preoccupied with getting your biology textbook from the top shelf that you didn’t hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall, but a nearby locker being opened made you glance to the side, and you saw none other than Toji Zenin standing there.

He was reaching for something in his locker, and you froze again. You held your breath, and slowly looked forward again, as if the most sudden of movements would scare him off. Did he remember you? Or were you just another passing face he had forgotten all about. You figured it was probably the latter, so you closed your locker door, locking your lock as you tucked your textbook under your arm.

‘’Thanks.’’ Toji said into the silence. His voice was boyish, rough, but quiet. It was a nice voice, when he wasn’t cursing out a vice-principal. You stilled, heart leaping into your throat. You slowly looked over to Toji again. He still wasn’t looking at you. ‘’Thanks for the sandwich.’’ He said again, clearing his throat. Then he looked at you. His eyes met yours and you found yourself smiling at him. You felt something warm run down your spine as you held eye contact with him. Before you could say anything else, Toji closed his locker, and turned away, already halfway down the hallway as you tried to form a coherent sentence to reply back. You let out a soft huff, but couldn’t help the grin that stayed on your face as you turned to head to your biology class. Toji had remembered you.

And so it began. You didn’t know what else to call it but a crush. A stupid, silly, little crush that you had on Toji Zenin of all people. You looked for him in the halls, tried to catch sight of him in the cafeteria, and stole glances at him in the class you shared together. You weren’t sure why the fuck you were so interested. He was cute, yeah, criminally good-looking actually, but that wasn’t the only thing. You were painfully curious about him, hopelessly drawn to his presence and existence like a moth to a flame. It was stupid of you yes, but you figured it was harmless. It wasn’t like he was ever going to be in your orbit again anyway, and you knew it would pass, but you couldn’t help but yearn to make eye contact with him again, to maybe, maybe, hear his voice directing a word or two towards you again. It wasn’t just stupid, it was embarrassing as well. Toji was none of your business, at all, but as you flipped through your assigned reading in English class, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift over to where he sat.

You’d even gone so far as to change your usual route in the halls and outside of the building to pass by him, just to catch a glimpse of Toji. He was never alone, not that you’d ever approach him if he was, but still it felt nice to check on him. Your friends teased you, and you’d laugh because this must be what tons of other girls went through as well. The allure of Toji Zenin was real, but unlike other girls, the popular ones, the outgoing ones who would approach him and flirt with him outside of class, you were content to just watch from afar like some sort of creep.

Then one day, it happened.

The hallway was a chaotic environment as students rushed to get from second period to third, and you battled your way through the throng, shoving and pushing your way through to psych class, but you were being pushed around like a damn rag doll. A group of rowdy juniors stood in a group in the middle of the damn hall like a bunch of idiots, blocking the way as they pushed each other around, cackling. One of the boys was shoved into you, and you were sent flying against the lockers. You yelped, pushing, but the sheer amount of people around you muffled your voice as you snapped a watch out!

Suddenly, he was there. Toji’s looming form appeared next to you, and you had to crane your head up to stare at him as he shoved at the kid off you.

‘’Fucking watch it.’’ Toji drawled, his imposing presence causing the kids to scatter. He looked down at you then, eyes roaming over your face. There was really no need for him to push at anyone to make room for himself. The sea of people parted for him always, out of respect or fear, you didn’t know, so why did he do that? You searched for answers as you peeled yourself off the lockers, head spinning at how close he stood to you. Toji raised an eyebrow.

‘’You alright?’’ He asked you in a low voice, loud enough only for you to hear amongst the chatter. You nodded quickly, desperately trying to fight off the blush that was rising in your cheeks at the way his voice sounded this close to your ear.

‘’Y-yeah,’’ You stammered, ‘’Thank you Toji.’’ His name falling from your lips was an accident. He’d never introduced himself to you, so what kind of weirdo would call him by his name since he most likely didn’t know yours? You mentally kicked yourself, but Toji’s lips irked up into a half smile. He didn’t say anything else, just nodded down at you, and he kept walking, leaving you in the wake of what had just happened, the highlight of your week and most likely a forgettable moment for him.

It was late, and you had just finished changing after soccer practice. You hefted your bag over your shoulder after saying bye to your friends, making your way from the change rooms to your locker to grab a book you forgot. Before you could turn the corner, you noticed a figure sitting down outside of the principal’s office. You stopped, eyes narrowing as you recognized the familiar hulk that belonged to Toji as he draped himself on the seat, whistling some low tune. You felt your pulse quicken and you did a couple mental gymnastics to try and rationalize why you should take the long way around to your locker and pass the principals office. You clenched your hand, and decided, fuck it, turning to trudge down the hall towards Toji.

You stopped in front of him, and this time Toji decided to grace you with his attention. He looked up at you, and almost looked surprised to see you, but his face remained impassive, other than his usual lazy smirk. You didn’t know what came over you, what sort of audacity possessed you to do this, but you handed Toji your sandwich that you had been planning to eat after practice. Toji eyed the food, then looked back up at you.

‘’Don’t want your charity.’’ He muttered, blue eyes darkening. You kept your hand outstretched, not breaking eye contact.

‘’Good thing this isn’t charity.’’ You replied, voice surprisingly steady. Toji was silent for a moment, studying you, watching you carefully, as if he was mentally deciding whether or not you were being fake as fuck, then he finally reached out, taking the food from you.

‘’Thanks I guess.’’ Toji said, unwrapping the sandwich. ‘’These are good, by the way.’’ Your brain short-circuited. Was Toji Zenin making conversation with you? Granted, not much of one, but you’d take it.

‘’Thanks,’’ you returned, smiling. The moment should be over, after all, your interactions with him prior to this lasted all about fifteen seconds, but you couldn’t manage to pull away. ‘’You got detention again or something?’’

‘’Yeah, something like that.’’ He drawled as he took a bite out of the sandwich, making you smile wider, pleased with yourself. He looked up at you, gaze travelling over you, then your bag. ‘’You on the soccer team?’’ You sucked in a breath at the question, the slightest hint of interest on Toji’s behalf making butterflies erupt in your stomach. You nodded, and Toji huffed.

‘’Little overachiever aren’t you, doll?’’ He grumbled, the slightest hint of teasing in his voice. You weren’t sure if he was making fun of you or not, but honestly you couldn’t care less. He wasn’t entirely wrong anyway, but how the hell did he figure that much about you?

‘’What do you mean by that?’’ You asked, chuckling nervously.

‘’Top of your classes, student council, and in sports?’’ He scoffed, ‘’You’re doing entirely too much.’’ Your face burned at his accusation, but what he said didn’t seem to have any real bite in them, no mockery. Maybe just…teasing?

‘’You’re not wrong.’’ You admitted after you managed to recover, laughing. Toji’s eyes widened at your response, almost as if he’d expected a different reaction. ‘’I’d say the same about you, just in an entirely different way.’’ Toji stared blankly at you for a second, then he broke into a chuckle, one that sent your mind spinning.

‘’Fair enough.’’ He huffed, crossing his arms as he finished the sandwich. Before you could reply, the principal peeped her head out of the doorway, giving Toji a frown.

‘’Zenin.’’ She called, sounding exasperated, ‘’Get in here.’’ She disappeared, and Toji stood up, casually stretching out his long limbs.

‘’See you around.’’ He said to you, looking down at you now, a hint of a smile on his face.

‘’Give ‘em hell.’’ You replied, smiling at him as he headed to the doorway. Toji paused, the hint of a smile now a full-blown grin, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

‘’Always.’’ He said, giving you a final way before he disappeared into the principal’s office. You floated to your locker, feeling like you were on cloud nine. Not only had you managed to not make a fool out of yourself in front of Toji, but best of all, he’d noticed you. He knew things about you. That you were top of your classes, that you did student council, that you were on the soccer team. He knew those things about you, and he remembered you, and he liked your sandwiches, as unremarkable as they were. You smiled to yourself all the way home, unable to shake the echoes of his light laughter that repeated over and over in your head.

You felt that maybe there had been some sort of divine intervention from whatever god was out there, though you weren’t sure if it was a reward or a punishment. Either way, you were struggling to not gawk as your English teacher called out the list of partner names for the big term project. He had said your name and..

‘’Toji Zenin.’’

Your heart must have stopped beating. Palms became sweaty, clammy, and your eyes flew over to look at Toji who was leaning back in his chair, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. He didn’t even turn to look at you. Did he know it was you? Did he care? Your face flushed as you swung back around to stare holes into your desk, fists tightening on your lap. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. You’d spent about a month in your little delusional state of mind, seeking Toji out for only the slimmest of chances to catch sight of him. You went out of your way like a fool, and now that you were being thrown into a major project with just him, you found yourself wanting to beg your teacher to switch you to another partner. Anyone but him. It was one thing to admire from afar, but actually having to talk to Toji? Have him perceive you? That was something else entirely.

Your heart was sent in a spiral, stomach churning with nervous nausea as the students were urged to sit with their partners by the teacher. You stayed glued to your seat, not sure whether you should get up and join Toji or not. Surely, he didn’t know your name, so he wouldn’t know who to look for.

Your worrying was abruptly cut short by someone falling into the empty chair next to you, bag being slung onto the desk. Toji was there, sitting next to you, looking at you expectantly like you were supposed to say something. Your mind blanked as you stared at Toji dumbly.

‘’You got a bit of a staring problem, doll.’’ Toji rumbled, tilting his head as he watched you carefully, with a guarded expression. Your mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, cheeks heating up. If only he knew.

‘’I, uh, didn’t realize you knew my name.’’ You managed to choke out and Toji blinked, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

‘’Tch, well I do so…’’ he mumbled, tilting his head as he trailed off. You leaned forward a little, curious, wanting to know exactly how he knew but not being brave enough to ask the dark-haired boy.

‘’Well, I guess we’re partners then!’’ You said brightly, pulling out the assignment sheet so you could examine it. You heard Toji scoff.

‘’Lucky you.’’ He snorted. You wondered for a moment if you’d end up doing all the work, like you usually did in group projects like these. You didn’t know a whole lot about Toji’s grades, he apparently wasn’t failing, even though he skipped like nobody’s business, but even if you did, you wouldn’t mind carrying Toji through the project...

‘’So, you wanna tell me what we gotta do? I wasn’t paying attention.’’ Toji said, giving you a bored look. You blinked, not surprised, honestly just glad he even showed up to the class. He would skip English about three times a week, driving the teacher stark mad. You pulled out the assignment sheet, taking a deep breath.

‘’We’re doing a project on a book,’’ You began explaining, ‘’The Outsiders by S.E Hinton…’’ You trailed off, looking at said book on your desk. Toji raised an eyebrow.

‘’Looks like we have to do some joint long answer questions…an essay, jeez this looks like a lot.’’ You muttered, flipping through the book, ‘’Luckily, I’ve read the book!’’

‘’Of course, you have.’’ Toji deadpanned, mouth twitching. You felt heat rise to your cheeks.

‘’It’s a really good book actually, the movie is great too! You should read it…well, you kind of have to I guess, but I could explain it to you.’’ You offered, unsure whether or not Toji would be interested in reading at all. To your surprise, Toji took the book from your desk, studying the cover.

‘’Nah, I can read you know.’’ He said in an almost accusing tone. Now your face was flushing with embarrassment.

‘’Ah, I wasn’t trying to imply you couldn’t read-!’’ You choked out, waving your hands in apology, and Toji let out a deep chuckle.

‘’Relax, kid. I’m joking.’’ He assured you, almost gently. You stared at him, unsure what to make of him. You wouldn’t have pegged him to act like this. He was easy-going, not as intimidating as you were led to believe. You turned your attention back down to the assignment instructions.

‘’Well, uh, we can divide out the work now, but seeing as we won’t be getting time in class to work on it, I guess we’ll have to find some time to meet up and work on it…if you want.’’ You said, your last sentence rushed out as you turned to give Toji a look of apprehension. You didn’t think he would be up for it, after all, you’d never seen the Zenin boy even crack open a textbook, but he only nodded.

‘’Sure.’’ Was all he said, voice low, calm, indifferent. You tried to keep the grin off your face. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you had expected to have Toji as a partner, but you’d had worse.

You were sitting in the cafeteria pouring over a book when you felt something fall on your head with a light smack. You jumped, startled out of your skin with a yelp and stared up to see Toji towering over you, a book in hand. The Outsiders.

‘’I read the book.’’ Was all he said as he plopped down beside you on the bench. You stared at him, still reeling from the scare. He finished the thing? In two days?

‘’What did you think?’’ You asked him slowly, curious to know his thoughts. Toji blinked, his dark blue eyes flashing with a quick look of surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to be interested.

‘’It was…alright,’’ He replied in a low voice, looking over at you, ‘’Bet you thought it would hit close to home for me.’’ The last thing he said made you pause. Your mind whirled as you thought hard for a moment. The Outsiders, a book following a young ‘’greaser’’ who struggles with violence, loyalty, and identity in a world defined by class conflict. Your thoughts suddenly landed on the character, Dallas Winston, the tough, criminal type who lived his life on the streets, his story ending as he lived, tragic, violent, and angry. Your heart clenched as you realized he reminded you of a certain someone…

‘’Ah, well, maybe I’m dumb but, I honestly didn’t think of the parallels until you brought it up.’’ You said honestly to Toji. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at you, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart sink into your stomach. Did he really think you thought of him like that? Just a criminal? A low life?

‘’Dallas Winston was always my favorite character.’’ You said suddenly, not knowing why. Toji hadn’t said the character’s name, didn’t even allude to it, but you could tell that was what he meant when he brought it up in the first place. His jaw twitched, and you weren’t sure if he was annoyed or…something else. Then, his eyes softened, and you could only bask in the attention before he looked away.

‘’That so?’’ He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. He wasn’t looking for a reply, because he got up to leave, but before he could go, you turned to him.

‘’Um, I was wondering…would you be able to meet up to work on that project on Thursday? Maybe right after school in the library?’’ You asked him, a little nervous to hear his response and half-expecting him to scoff and say no.

‘’Sure. I’ll be there.’’ Was all he said as he walked off, without looking back. You smiled, glad he accepted, but you noticed your mood turn for the worse as you watched him leave. Did Toji see himself in that character? Was he too, walking, no, running down the path to an angry, unnecessary death? Objectively, you knew the way he lived his life didn’t give him many options, and he if he wasn’t careful…

God, you’d do anything to keep him from that fate.

a/n: was planning on writing more, so if anyone is interested in a part 2, let me know :)

#toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji x you #toji fushigro x reader #toji zenin x reader #fushiguro toji #toji zenin x you #jjk x reader

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