Hi, I Was Wondering If I Could Request Hiei Going Back To The Human World To Visit His S/o? (Post Season

Hi, I was wondering if I could request Hiei going back to the human world to visit his s/o? (Post season 4 tournament) thank you

i love this prompt and had to jump on it the moment i saw it in my inbox. hope i did it justice!

set immediately after the last episode.

homebound (hiei x gender neutral!reader, yu yu hakusho)

You’re exhausted by the time you return from the beach, your skin tender and salt-sore from the long hours you and the group had spent playing in the water. It had been a fun day - a peaceful day, and you had grown to count each day like it as a gift.

It had been nice to have the group together again. Even Genkai had joined you at one point, though none of Yusuke’s playful urging had succeeded in coaxing her into the water.

Your smile gains a wistful edge as you remember Keiko’s joy upon Yusuke’s return. She had refused to sit and pine while he was gone, but it was clear to everyone how much she’d missed him.

You can admit, at least in the privacy of your own thoughts, to feeling a little heartsore after witnessing their reunion. You had hoped that a certain fire apparition would follow Yusuke home from demon world, and had been unable to curb the disappointment you’d felt as the day lengthened and there was still no sign of Hiei.

You sigh, toeing off your shoes and dropping your bag by the door. You had done your best to ignore your unhappiness at Hiei’s absence, not wanting to sour the air on such a joyous day, but you knew at least Kurama and Botan had picked up on it, the former having walked you home despite it being out of his way and the latter spending most of the day glued to your side, doing her utmost to keep you distracted.

Now that you’re alone with nothing but your thoughts, though, it’s difficult to stave off your melancholy, your body and mind too wearied by the events of the day to divert from the missing fire apparition.

You don’t know what you expected. Just because Yusuke and Kurama had chosen to return to living world didn’t mean Hiei would make the same choice, not even for you. It hurt to acknowledge, but it was the truth. You’re just human, after all, and Hiei had been barred from demon world for so long, he might never want to leave it now that he’d returned.

Your skin stings as you slip into bed, foregoing a shower in favor of slipping into comfortable pajamas and tugging your blankets over your shoulders. Heat blossoms along your arms and legs, but it’s a pale imitation of the warmth you’ve missed, and you blow out a breath, closing your eyes in defiance against your spiraling thoughts.

Pathetic, you think, and it’s laughably ironic that the voice in your head sounds exactly like Hiei’s.

It’s late into the night when you blink your eyes open, staring in muddled confusion at your bedroom wall.

Other than the small sliver of moonlight creeping through your curtains the room is dark, and there’s a line of heat against your back that wasn’t there when you first slipped into bed.

“You smell like salt.”

Your heart leaps in your chest.

“You would too if you’d been at the beach all day,” you mumble sleepily, hiding your smile in the warmth of your pillow.

There are fingers spread loosely over your stomach, warmth bleeding through your shirt to sink into your skin. You reach for them, tangling them with yours, and feel inordinately pleased when Hiei allows the gesture without comment.

You don’t ask why he’s there, or why he had chosen now of all times to return. You don’t ask him when he’s leaving, because you know he’s not here to stay.

You don’t say anything at all, actually. You just breathe in the dark, your fingers moving gingerly against his. There are more calluses there than you remember, though everything else feels the same - the sharp bends of his knees tucked beneath yours, the texture of his hair against the back of your neck, the heat radiating from his body.

You want to turn over, but the thought of actually seeing him - of him seeing you - scares you to death. It’s been two years. You haven’t changed much, but you have changed. Would it matter? Would he care?

“Your thoughts are louder than that oaf.”

You laugh a little, his acerbic wit - well-missed, and still as prickly as ever - serving to put you at ease.

“Kuwabara misses you, you know,” you tell him, knowing without needing to look that his lips have twisted into a scowl.

He doesn’t refute your claim, though. Instead, you feel the tip of his nose brush against the back of your neck. “And you?”

You blink in the darkness, confused and almost angry. He can’t really be asking if you’d missed him, can he?

You’ve been gone for two years, you want to say. I've been waiting follows quickly after, though you manage to restrain both to the cage of your throat, and no further.

“Idiot,” you mutter instead.

“Fool.” It’s little more than a breath against the nape of your neck, and still you flush beneath its weight. You’ve heard that moniker more than once - usually directed at Kuwabara - but you've certainly never heard it in that tone, wrapped up in a layer of what you might dare to call affection.

Quiet affection, but affection nonetheless.

It emboldens you. Loosens your tongue.

“Thought you’d forgotten about me.” It’s an admission that you’d kept secret from all except yourself, not wanting to deal with the pity or platitudes - no matter how well-meant - the others would give you if they knew.

There’s a beat of silence, and then another, and another. You would think him gone if it weren’t for the fingers still tangled with yours.

But then there’s softness against the back of your neck, a hint of wetness followed by a sudden sharp sting.

“Did you just - ?” you mumble, attempting to reach back to feel the mark he’d just left on you - the bite he’d just given you.

But Hiei doesn’t let you get far, his grip firming around your hand and his arm tightening around your waist.

“Foolish,” he mutters, his brow pressed against the back of your shoulder. The warmth of his breath seeps through your shirt and leaves a circle of heat on your skin. “Do not mistake my absence for apathy. My… intentions have not changed.”

It’s as close to a declaration as you’ll ever get from the prickly fire apparition, and in truth, no flowery praise or fervent confession would have affected you half as much as Hiei quietly dispelling your worst fear.

You would say something if you had the words, but you’re afraid that if you speak, your voice will do something embarrassing like crack or break right down the middle. So instead, you pull Hiei’s hand up to your lips and press a kiss to his knuckles.

“Hn.” His voice is little more than a huff, his fingers twitching in your grip, and you grin against his skin.

And just like that, the words come.

“Welcome home.”

5 times inumaki toge held your hand, and 1 time he didn't (inumaki toge x gn!reader)

OH M Y GOD i finally finished this piece and i'm so happy with it and i hope you enjoy <333 i'm so excited AHH

masterlist

5 Times Inumaki Toge Held Your Hand, And 1 Time He Didn't (inumaki Toge X Gn!reader)

Inumaki finds it, oh, so amusing to sneak behind Fushiguro and suddenly grab his hand. And while Fushiguro dug his own grave by complaining about that classic rom-com movie trope one too many times, it doesn’t account for the lengths that Inumaki goes to irritate him. For one, Inumaki likes to dip his hands in ice water before running to Fushiguro. Inumaki also likes to smear left-over cough syrup on his fingers, so Fushiguro will look down in confusion to find himself holding a very sticky hand. Point is, you don’t feel bad for Inumaki at all when Fushiguro chases him around Jujutsu High and leaves him stuck in a shikigami frog quite coincidentally deaf. And you definitely don’t blame yourself for feeling suspicious when Inumaki takes hold of your hands and squeezes them.

“You better not have spit in them, or something.”

Inumaki laughs. He shakes his head and drops your hands for a second, only for him to cup your face with his palms.

“Salmon?”

Get it?

You blink for a moment as you try to determine what Inumaki wants. His hands feel warm against your face; you unconsciously nudge your cheek closer to his palm. His thumb twitches, as if he wants to caress the skin it touches. So warm. Oh. That. You look down at your own hands and press them to your forehead. Cold.

“You want to warm my hands?”

Inumaki nods. He looks at you questioningly, and when you nod, he takes your hands in his and presses them together. You fight the smile tugging at your mouth. He gives in and rubs his thumbs over your hands, and you tell yourself you feel like this because of the cold. Not because of the rare moment of intimacy passing between the two of you. And not because Inumaki usually teases you, with rare moments like these becoming extremely difficult to pinpoint.

“Well, I hope you don’t do this to everyone who isn’t a human furnace.”

It starts off as a smile. His eyes crinkle into peach-blossoms and light falls to flush gold across his cheeks. “Okaka.” He says it so shamelessly, and so matter-of-factly, that you don’t need him to translate at all. Only for the ones I like. By now, his smile looks an awful-lot like a smirk.

“You’re a flirt,” you proclaim, reaching to tweak his ear, “and I’m not falling for any of it.”

With only a few students roaming the Jujutsu High halls, bumping into Inumaki happens more often than not. Especially at times like these, where first light feels years away, and neither of you can sleep.

He beats you to the kitchen this time. For a moment you watch him shuffle around the kitchen: slinging the refrigerator door open with his elbow, pausing to think for a moment, standing on his tiptoes to carefully reach for a cup from the cabinet.

“Need help?”

In the early morning glow of refrigerator light, Inumaki’s snake and fang seal looks luminescent. You fight the urge to run your fingers across each concentric circle: tap thrice around his cheek, glide to the corner of his mouth, brush your thumb across his lip. But whatever faint illusion you saw disrupts immediately, because Inumaki jumps. The cup slips in his grasp. He saves imminent disaster with quick reflexes and a string of unintelligible safewords (even if they do sound anything but sweet); he clutches the clattering cup against his chest and blinks at you slowly. Recognition lights like little flame in his eyes, and he slumps his face into a deadpan exasperation.

Oops. At least he saved the cup?

“Ah, sorry.” You step forward to where he stands, raising your hand in greeting. “But nice catch! Couldn’t sleep?”

Inumaki lets himself smile for one, brief second. It doesn’t last long because he quickly morphs his features into a dirty look to point out your sorry excuse at apology. And then his mind starts working again--three a.m. insecurities unraveling out of his grasp--and he turns, quite rigidly, to set the cup behind him and press his hands against his face.

“You don’t need to”--

His hands scrabble across the counter. Finding nothing, his shoulders sag, and he makes do with pulling the neckline of his shirt up to hide the marks against his cavity. He turns. His gaze pleads: don’t say anything; don’t look at me; sorry, you have to see me, like this.

“You don’t have to hide it, Toge.”

Inumaki blinks at you owlishly. And then he shakes his head to roll his eyes. “Konbu.” He busies himself with the cup behind him.

“Is that for tea? I was thinking I’d make some, too.”

Inumaki nods, still shyly holding his shirt against his mouth. He wordlessly passes you the jar of hojicha tea blend. When you don’t take it from him, he cocks his head.

“I like black tea,” you murmur in embarrassment.

Inumaki raises an eyebrow. He rummages through a different cabinet and pulls out different jars to read the labels. When he finds the jar of black tea leaves, he holds it to you in satisfaction. When you still don’t take it, Inumaki frowns. “Tuna?”

“With milk.” You pull at your fingers. “It’s too strong for me. I mean, to drink plain.”

Inumaki grins.

“And sugar, please.”

He presses his hands against his mouth to stifle any sound. When he glances at you, amusement twinkles in his eyes. He forgets all about his exposed snake and fang seal. The neckline of his shirt drops back to regular position, and he reaches to grab your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours.

“Cod roe.” When he says it, strained breaths escape his lips as he tries to further stifle his laughter. He pulls you toward the fridge, and you watch as the filmy light bathes him in sublime gossamer. With his other hand, he grabs the carton of milk and nudges the refrigerator door shut with his foot. You manage to reach the sugar jar before you’re tugged away.

Inumaki makes no effort to release your hand even as he cheerfully fills the teapot with a spoonful of leaves and seeps the tea with hot water.

“Do you like holding hands?”

Inumaki shrugs. He does, to his credit, seem to think about it for a while. But he must think better of it, because just as he decides to open his mouth and whisper something, he shakes himself out of it. He settles with a shit-eating grin, while inching closer to you for dramatic effect.

You shut him up before he can say anything. “So not only are you a flirt, you’re a masochist. Very nice, Toge.”

The grin slips from his face for a split second. He sighs, reaching to gently rap his knuckles against the side of your head. And then the warmth of his hand replaces itself with a cup of aromatic tea.

When you look up to thank him, the softness in his gaze startles you. You don’t know what to say. Uncertainty makes you look away, only to dump two spoonfuls of sugar in your tea.

People who spit their gum out on the sidewalk fill you with rage. Especially when you look around to spot the trash bin a few footsteps away. Gum clumps to the bottom of your shoe in a chewed, washed-out pink nearly unrecognizable with rings of cement-dust. If only you kept that spare napkin or hashi from today’s take-out.

The crossing-light beeps green. Your friends start stepping forward into the street--wait for me--you want to call, half-debating whether to follow them or not. Too late. The moment of hesitation passes, and you sigh, hobbling over to the trash bin to scrape your shoe against the rim. Stupid bubblegum. Stupid pedestrian who doesn’t care about other people.

You blink back angry curse-words that feel too loud for public space. You swing your leg down from the bin and take a tentative practice-step against the ground. Good enough to walk with, even if it does feel slightly sticky. Nothing terribly uncomfortable. As you pull out your phone to text everyone to wait up, you swipe left on a notification from Inumaki.

Oh, good. Did he notice you got stuck on the other side of the street? You expect to see a message of where to meet up again.

But the snap is a video of you angrily attacking the trash bin with your foot. And then there’s Inumaki wheezing in the background as you watch your past-self crumple your face into your hands in a moment of existential crisis. The caption reads: got gum stuck on their shoe ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭ wait up for us at that tree near home.

You let the snap replay for a moment as you stare at it in amusement. “You waited.”

When you look up, the corner of Inumaki’s mouth twitches, and he raises his phone in front of his face in futile efforts to take multiple pictures of your reaction. Or a video.

You wrestle the phone out of his grasp and flip the camera over to take a selfie of the two of you. “Was this all part of your plan to spend more time with me?” You glance at him with a look that shows a swagger only meant for people who jest.

Inumaki won’t meet your gaze. He saves the photo to his phone and tucks it back into his pocket before he reaches for your hand and nudges his head toward the street. “Tuna, tuna?”

Ready to go?

When you nod, Inumaki straightens up, and his smile brightens. The green light flickers yellow as the crossing-timer ticks down, and now the two of you dash across the street, half-running, half hopping from one white stripe to the next, until you step back onto concrete as the timer ticks down, two, one, zero.

Sincerity. “I didn’t think you would wait.” You smile at him, not caring at all about the influx of adoration present in your gaze. “Thanks.” And then, “We better get to the park, fast. You look cold.”

Inumaki furrows his brow.

You point to his face. “Your cheeks are flushed. It’s windy, I’m a little cold, too.”

Inumaki sighs, his eyes narrowing. He brings your hands up to press against his cheek. His face feels warm to the touch.

“Do you have a fever?”

“Salmon.” Inumaki scowls and zips his collar all the way up to his nose. He quickens his pace and refuses to talk to you for the rest of the walk back.

Later at the end of the week when you gather at movie night that Itadori declared a new tradition, the room awashes in black and white light with voices emerging from the television in garbled, old-hollywood sound. The movie looks old. You came for the snacks and laughter, but you didn’t realize that Itadori meant business when he planned movie night. He actually looks invested in the plot … and so does everyone else.

Even Fushiguro shuts up, and you lean forward to whisper in his ear: are you scared Toge will use your complaining against you? Fushiguro rolls his eyes and without sparing you a glance, shifts closer to Itadori and flips you off.

You laugh. Itadori swivels his head around to glare at you. “Shush!”

From somewhere at the other end of the couch, Kugisaki leans forward and drapes her arms over her knees. “Seriously?” She gazes at the television with an unimpressed look. “Why didn’t he lock his door?”

“Dumb. Dumb as hell,” you quip.

Itadori nods. “Right? I think he’s going to”--

“Tuna, tuna.” Inumaki points forward, and the door on screen starts to open.

“Victim number four,” Maki snickers.

Among the various plot twists and string dissonance, you manage to doze off. Your eyes shudder open at jump-scares when Inumaki’s knee knocks against yours, or when Fushiguro leans back a little too much and accidentally bonks his head into your shins. Or when Kugisaki leans over to playfully toss a pillow at you, laughing when you blink awake only to drift back to sleep.

Inumaki nudges your side during one of these waking-from-loud-externalities. He motions toward his shoulder. “Takana.” Television glare kisses light across his eyes, and for a moment, Inumaki holds everything you have ever wanted to see all at once: I am not leaving, I am not leaving, I will wait for you, always.

You stare as your head wavers from weight it doesn’t know how to properly distribute at this state of exhaustion.

Inumaki chuckles quietly. Fondness proves hard to pull away from, especially when it comes from a boy who laughs when you trip over your shoes, or teases you every morning, or would let you shiver in the cold while he walks smugly in a warm jacket. Because now, when you don’t have the energy to convince the two of you that you like each other as just friends, it feels too easy to drift into the free-fall of something more. For some reason, you let things pass at the hours from dusk to dawn. In the uncertainties of early morning, and when the two of you look at each other among the rest of your friends, you never feel the urge to play dumb.

When you rest your head against his shoulder and lean up to press a soft kiss to the skin underneath his jaw, Inumaki reaches for your hand and shakes his head. He rubs little circles into your palm. Go to sleep, (Y/N). You’re just tired.

He holds your hand when you least expect it. And when you most expect it, all at once. The familiar gesture of intimacy becomes something entirely Inumaki, one that ironically shys away from any confrontation of intimacy. It starts with the warmth of his hands, and quickly turns into the way he likes to play with your fingers, or trace little stars into the impression of your knuckles when he lets his thumb press against your skin. Never has he drawn hearts.

You know why he won’t. Inumaki does it out of consideration. He can too easily picture your freak-out if you felt a heart lazily drawn onto your skin. How strange, to crave something right in arms-reach. All the comfort laid in front of you, from the way he looks at you, and the way he holds you, and the way he smiles at you when you wave at him in the morning: you could take it.

Every week you tell your therapist: I learned how to set boundaries, I learned how to assert myself, I learned that what happened in the past won’t happen in the future. Not everyone will leave. But still, a lingering thought flips uncomfortably in your mind. Why can’t you let him in?

When you think about it, it comes down to the unknown. What happens after this honeymoon stage? Will you still feel the same? Will he still feel the same? What happens when he holds your hand, and it no longer feels like home?

And every night, you think, no, it doesn’t matter. No matter what your mind comes up with, it needs to happen, one way or the other. If anyone, you should know; in all your years of life, your comfort zone never led you well.

Now, when Inumaki takes your hand, you forget about playing naive. The words that leave your mouth feel more bold. Sometimes you laugh at the flush that casts across Inumaki’s face when he blinks at you in incredulation.

“I’m going to take the risk,” you tell your therapist the next time you see them. “I’m ready, now.”

Inumaki meets you near the bookstore when you emerge, his hands stuck into his pockets as he approaches you curiously. Maybe you should have rethought this, because an Inumaki in street-style never fails to take your breath away. Sometimes it becomes so easy to envision him in just his classic Jujutsu uniform, and you forget that the boy before you can actually dress. And dress well.

“Hey.” When you look up to smile at him, it surprises you how easy the gesture comes. The number of times you envisioned this moment made millions of possibilities branch from this very interaction, but based on how he’s reacting, and based on how you feel, all your worries float away. Inumaki looks really nice today. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you clear your throat, hoping Inumaki won’t notice your fumble. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Inumaki nods. He says nothing, but his lip trembles slightly. He regards you with apprehension and shifts in his stance, weight alternating from one foot to the other. You want to reach forward and thumb the worry lines away from his forehead. You almost lose your will to confess in the way you imagined, because the urge to promise him that he won’t need to worry comes so suddenly.

Things come full-circle, don’t they?

You reach forward to take his hand.

Inumaki sucks in a breath. With such a cool, outwardly exterior, it surprises you to see his eyes fly open so wide. But, you’ve never held his hand first. His mouth opens and closes slightly as he tries to make sense of this.

Maybe he already figured out why you wanted to talk to him, by now.

Yet instead of grinning, he settles with gazing at you in anticipation. The hope in his eyes conceals itself poorly. Your chest aches to see how he tries to force casual indifference, while he clearly hangs onto every word that is about to leave your mouth.

His hand feels warm in yours. Safe. You trace a heart against his skin. Slow and deliberate. And then you do it again. And again. Little notes of affection blooming across his skin. “I like you,” you murmur. “I want to try. I want there to be an us.”

Inumaki’s face brightens. A smile spreads across his face as he gazes at you with a mixture of emotions that watercolor their way across his skin.

You squeeze his hand a little too hard. “And before you say anything,” you interrupt, “I’m serious. I’m not going to be scared anymore. I’m ready.”

Inumaki tugs on the hand that connects the two of you, and he pulls you into his arms. When he rests his head on your shoulder, you can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips in relief. Being here feels so easy. So warm.

He traces little hearts against your shoulder blades, and as you press your lips to his temple, (for real, this time), you think it’s been a long time since you’ve felt so sure.

639 notes View Post

victorias-fic-recs

4 years ago

omg 🥺 this broke my heart

square ; akaashi keiji

warnings implied cheating

genre angst, fwbs

word count 0.6k

inspiration square, mitski + wonder what she thinks of me, chole x halle

synopsis you never were going to be able to fit in the structure of akaashi’s life, no matter how much he wanted you to

author’s note this certainly hurt 😁 but this is an old draft ‘cause i’m still in a slump :/

You heaved out a sigh as Akaashi rolled off of you. Immediately he covered you up with newly pressed sheets. Your head lying on his matching pillowcase. Together, you stared at his plain ceiling, like always. There was no creases, no dents, no marks.

Nothing.

Akaashi was the first to shift around, opting to having his back face you as he checked his phone. Like always. You spared him a quick glance before following suit. Nearly wincing when you were met with a nicely framed picture of him and her.

The one this side of the bed rightfully belonged to.

Swallowing your guilt, you let your eyes drift. Akaashi’s room was clean, like always. His wall art were even, his desk area was neat, his closer was even neater. Everything was orderly. Everything had a place. Then there was you,

It wasn’t like it was your first time picking up on this. You made note of this the first time you stumbled into Akaashi’s room. Messily making out with him amongst his spotless room. Even with your head in the clouds you knew then that you didn’t fit.

How could you when the spot you wanted was already taken? There’s never really any room for someone who’s usually just a late night call. No room for someone who’s just supposed to fill a space temporarily.

But for some reason Akaashi kept you around. Maybe it was because you both were— and still are good friends. He tried to make space for you. Yet, in the end you knew it would never work.

“Hey,” almost on cue, Akaashi called out for you. You didn’t look at him, bringing your attention back to the nightstand that belonged to her.

“Are you alright?” The bed shook slightly when Akaashi turned on his other side. You nodded. She was so pretty, and so sweet. So talented, so smart, so… perfect. Why would Akaashi want to sacrifice this perfect fit in his life to have something with you?

He sighed, the air meeting your back. Following was the pressing of his chest as he reached over you to lay down the frame. You frowned.

“Don’t worry ‘bout her, ‘kay?” Akaashi draped his arm over you, his lips meeting your neck.

You gulped. You couldn’t take this anymore, you couldn’t take being a burden. The words hurt you more to say than Akaashi to hear, “We can’t do this anymore. I, can’t do this anymore…”

You could feel air get caught in Akaashi’s throat. “What do you mean?” He knew what you meant, obviously.

His arm fell from your body as you sat up. “I don’t fit here, Akaashi. I should just go.” Your eyes started searching for you clothes that were thrown and scattered across his flawless carpet. No spots, no trash, nothing.

Akaashi sat up with you, a look of confusion twisted on his face. “What does that even mean, ___?”

You bit your tongue and proceeded to climb out of his bed. Taking your clothes into your hands and shuffling them on.

“___, I want you to stay.” Painfully, those words made your heart skip a beat. Of course, you had to fall for Akaashi and his routine. Even if it didn’t make anything special of you.

You inhaled deeply, slipping into your shoes. “Just— keep things strong with her, okay? You guys are meant to be. You’re a really good guy, sorry for causing so much trouble.” The last sentence was muttered while you made your way to Akaashi’s bedroom door.

You heard him shuffle on his own clothes, exclaiming a wait at you. But you were already out the door.

Silently, you said goodbye to Akaashi and his perfectly square room. Where there was no longer any confusion, any intrusion, and no you.

kaeya alberich's guide to love

pairing - kaeya alberich x gender neutral reader

word count - 5419

genre - fluff to angst, spicy

format - fic

warnings - MCD (major character death), slight descriptions of bodily injuries and gore, alcohol consumption, one (1) suggestive scene (skinship, mentions of removal of clothing, very very light description of sex, pet names (darling, sweetheart, dove, angel)

summary - kaeya alberich's foolproof guide to falling in love (based on his personal experience)

a/n - womp womp here's some angst with some slight spice and fluff :D (semi-inspired by "How To Finish Your Bucket List Before You Die- A Guide From Kaeya Alberich" by OHai_Here on AO3!)

RULE #1: FIND A BEAU THAT POSES A CHALLENGE; LOVE IS MOST FUN WHEN THERE'S AN ENTICING PURSUIT INVOLVED

his fingers gently traced the outline of the crystal goblet that contained blood red poison: safe enough for consumption but not safe enough to prevent his mind from falling prey to the tantalizing grips of drunkeness. though wine would usually be swimming, settled deep in his stomach, he opted to tease and tempt fate tonight and dance a misty waltz between the lines of a drunken stupor and agonizing consciousness.

"if you toy with that drink any longer, it's bound to get fed up and walk away."

you'd been sitting next to him for some time, quiet as a doll, but your beguiling, honey tinted voice sparked an intrigued glint in the swirls of his lilac eye. the ends of his lips quirked upwards, a sly, foxy glance perambulated your way with the upturn of his head to meet your piercing eyes and the gentle placement of his fingers to support his weighted chin.

"well now," he cooed, voice dripping with a rosy, sultry lilt yet no lighter than the soft, downy underbelly of a bird's feather, "that would make me up for grabs. now's your chance, darling, shoot your shot hm?"

pearls of crystal condensation snaked their way in races down the edge of his wine glass, still full with sweet temptation. but nothing to him was more tempting than to brush his thumb against the soft, velvety texture of your cupid's bow and see the cute scrunch of your nose in response. a new toy for him to tinker with, a prized addition to his collection should he manage to woo you.

instead, you set a bag of mora with a heavy weight on the bar's wooden counter—far too much mora for a single shot—and placed a palm on the counter, one on his stool, leaving you to lean uncomfortably close to him with a gem of a smile on your pretty lips; close enough for your noses to brush against one another, any more and your lips would slot perfectly against his.

"forgive me, captain, but i'm not interested."

your touch lingered even hours after you'd left the tavern with the sway of your hips and a teasing smile on your face—one that exuded confidence and stability, and had his heart battering against his chest.

kaeya hadn't realized that his mask had chipped away at the fibers with the burning embers of your aura until charles replaced his stale glass with a crisp, fresh one and slid a hearty laugh his way, "they've entranced you, haven't they sir kaeya?"

an impressed smirk was all kaeya offered in response: after all, he loved a challenge.

RULE #2: SUBTLY EXPRESS YOUR INTEREST IN A MANNER THAT EXUDES CONFIDENCE AND CHARM WHILE ALSO KEEPING YOURSELF A MYSTERY

an enigma is how kaeya would describe you.

like silky threads of crystal water or a fleeting, gentle breeze, you flitted through the gaps of his fingertips and skirted around the edges of his ears with the echo of your voice and the rims of his eyes with the grace of your presence at the tavern. it was almost as if you could read the grooves of his brain and feel the palpitating game he'd morphed into the invisible tango between your fleeting feet. "friends", was what you said, but enticing, addicting, intoxicating was every semblance of your being and he craved more.

but kaeya alberich was no man of desperation, no, not at all. he shall be fawned over, and never the other way around.

when the moon cast its gentle glow onto brick and cobblestone, he'd find himself sauntering over to your table, two glasses of delicious poison in his hands and a promise of a good time. the only offer you accepted was the alcohol he so kindly paid for. but no matter! to kaeya, this was all part of his game, all part of the hunt for your heart and the desire to see your eyes glow with his name etched in your irises.

kaeya's methods were...effective, one could say. but you were a true anomaly in his many years of experience. his charming one-liners had you doubling over in laughter and patting him twice on the back—most definitely not in a romantic manner. his cool, teasing touch in the subtle nudge of your arm or the manner in which he'd casually snake his arm around your waist only seemed to spur on your relentless teasing. he'd put on his fancy garbs and strutted his best in the streets, only to be called a "peacock" courtesy of your lovely voice and amused glint in your eyes. but the roses he'd bought from flora to tuck behind your ears just as you set off for another commission proved to be more effective in the slight genuine smile upon your lips and the quiet and hurried "thank you" whispered only for him.

it was proof, he knew soon that he'd see hearts in your eyes and feel your heartbeat from miles away only with the telltale click of his boots and signature laugh.

yet despite this, you ventured onwards merely being yourself. where most would be squealing and kicking up their feet at the sheer mention of capturing the captain kaeya's fancy, he was stunned to realize that you hadn't been affected in the slightest.

rather, it was him who'd begun to notice your teasing looks that often hurtled his way when he least expected them, or the sugary lilt to your voice whenever you called out to him upon seeing his figure in the streets. you were still a mystery, a puzzle he couldn't decipher, a story that his tongue struggled to wrap around, a mystic ornament whose origins he knew nothing of.

"captain kaeya! fancy a drink tonight?"

his head whipped upwards to meet your starry eyes, bound to no one and devoid of hearts, only an endless sea of light and constellations that were no one's to steal.

"my, you offend me, shouldn't you know my answer to that by now, darling?" he wriggled out of the confines of his thoughts and slung an arm around your shoulder, letting you lead him to angel's share for the night.

RULE #3: SHOULD YOU FEEL THAT YOU'RE GETTING IN TOO DEEP, ABORT MISSION

to his surprise, it wasn't in his fancy getups or the sultry dip of his voice nor the alluring musk he adorned or the frosted tips of his fingers, but rather the late night talks of your beloved hobbies and the stories in which silver linings never found their way into the conversation: these were what worked.

his previous beaus have all settled for what he was—what he presented himself to be. but you, you dug deeper into the caverns of his mind and had him dig up ridiculous childhood stories involving him, a certain redheaded wine tycoon, and a bucket of seashells, told under moonlight and over aged wine. kaeya settled for obliging your requests for more embarrassing childhood stories of the charming and suave captain kaeya, and he indulged in your tales of adventuring and mystical stories of scholars and monsters; if possible, he'd love to hear your voice forever and ever on repeat in his ears.

but once you uprooted the vines and twiny branches tangling his heart and revealed the tender muscle and flesh underneath, panic began to course through his veins. this wasn't supposed to happen, you were a challenge, a game to bide his time with, a mere toy to satiate the curiosity within him.

so why was he the one whose heart couldn't sit still around you anymore?

kaeya alberich is not a desperate man, and so he runs as far away as he can. no more lingering touches, sultry remarks, or roses tucked behind your ears. no more rooftop conversations shared between a bottle of vodka or embarrassing childhood stories. no more teasing dares or battle of wits when dusk kissed the top of your heads. no more: all that remained within him was barren of life and ice cold. kaeya alberich is not a desperate man, and yet his heart still longed for you. his soul cried out when you approached with bounded steps and a gleeful smile on your face, only for him to greet you with a stiff nod saved for politics and family dinners and a strained, professional smile reserved for placement when he detested using it most.

the boiling hatred for himself began to rise and build up in the thin confines of his esophagus upon the smile disintegrating from your face, leaving behind a crestfallen nod of understanding in his wake. what stung more was the fact that upon looking into your eyes, they still swirled with vibrant stars and bands of constellations, but among the barrage of light were tiny, dotted hearts that thrummed with every single second your eyes gazed into his.

but he knew and he knew well, there was no going back once he'd pushed you away well and good, even if you had begun to take a true liking to him.

he was in too deep once he realized that it hurt to push you far, far away where he could never hurt you, and you him.

RULE #4: RULE #3 CAN BE NULL AND VOID IF YOUR BEAU HELPS YOU REALIZE THAT YOU'RE AN IDIOT

satisfaction and stability is all he has ever sought out for, but such things are a luxury in a world that conspires against him. any semblance of those principles must be treated as you would a spy or a criminal: dangerous, conniving, untrustworthy. good things can't happen to kaeya—if they do, they either last a fleeting moment or are lies wrapped in glittery present paper and tied neatly with a little bow.

what were you to him? a fleeting moment? or a lie dressed in fancy clothing? the meaning didn't matter any more, he'd push and push and push until you were far away from him and he could finally breath and revel in the calmness that he no longer feared having to get hurt.

except, he already was.

his heart ached and burned in his chest upon a mere glance at your face: sullen and lacking its usual charming mirth—the same charm that persuaded him to begin pursuing you in the first place. despite his airy, fouette lined steps and the musical cadence to his voice, the emptiness where your late night chats and clinks of alcohol to celebrate nothing in particular used to sit, felt so void of the warmth that encompassed him in your company.

perhaps fate was mocking him when your knuckles knocked heavy against the wood of his door one night, and your constellation ridden eyes still contained hearts that begun to warble in his presence.

"have i upset you in some way, captain?"

his carefully constructed mask remained pristine in place, yet jostled slightly at the hammer of his heart as he fought the urge to retreat backwards and hide under the covers like a small child.

"not at all."

your arms folded themselves across your chest in a guarded manner, a frown settling on your lips. "you're not calling me pet names anymore."

like a mechanical doll, his lips curved upwards to mimic the charming smile he'd given you so many nights ago, back when it was all just a simple game to him, "oh? i wasn't aware that you liked the pet names so much-"

"it's not just the pet names, kaeya!" the rest of his teasing remarks died in his throat upon the reveal of glistening tears that threatened to fall from your lashes. "you've been ignoring me, avoiding me like the plague. if i've truly done nothing wrong, why am i being treated as though i have? i thought we were friends?"

kaeya supposed you were much like a siren, with your bated beauty and alluring voice, you'd have him jumping ship and swimming towards a false reality lest his guard be let down. even with tears rolling down your face, he'd be damned if he wouldn't test the murky waters that surrounded your archipelago.

that is: if he were brave enough to enter the tempest of waves and secure his spot among your rocky shorelines.

"is it because i fancy you?"

at the tune of your timid void, his blood ran colder than ice in his veins, stilling for a minute before proceeds onwards languidly in a stark contrast to the rapid palpitations of his heart in his throat.

his silence seemed to be enough a reply for you, "i-i see, i'm sorry, i wasn't aware that you were so disgusted with me. i thought there was a chance...but it seems i was too hopeful." his eye found yours and the galaxies and constellations within began to dim and fade with light, leaving behind the burned remnants of dull and faded hearts that littered the spaces in between.

your heels turned to walk away but a sudden surge of strength found its way into his arms and his hand caught your elbow, grip fueled by emotions he couldn't decipher.

"i'm...far from disgusted with you, angel." his mind was screaming at him to let you go, to increase the distance between desire and temptation. but his heart had taken the reigns and there appeared to be no stopping. he was completely enraptured by your siren's song.

"angel, huh?" you sniffled, dragging your sleeve across your eyes with a strained smile, "that's a new one."

"reserved for you and you alone, darling."

the familiar, teasing atmosphere felt so welcome in his arms, as did you.

"come here," he cooed, voice lacking its usual teasing lilt and full of only genuinely concern as he gently tugged you forward and let you melt into his body. so warm, so tender, and ever so soft, your body melted against the thundering flames of his heart and merged into his chest. it was a feeling he'd dreamed about for so long, and if he were still dreaming, he wished to never wake up.

"i don't understand, i can't tell if you like me or dislike me." you laughed incredulously and pressed the heel of your palm to your head, still wrapped up in his embrace.

kaeya couldn't understand either, why his mind ushered him to release you from his grip and shove your memories of warmth and sunlight to the corners of his brain to never see daylight again. in contrast, why was it that his heart demanded to shower you in affection and let you know every second of every minute just how wrapped around your finger he was.

"well, i am a man of many mysteries. this is just one more i have to decipher." upon the playful smack of your palm to his chest and the frustrated smile you sent him, his worry dissipated into thin air and joined the stars above.

"i got in too deep, you're quite enticing, you know?" his heart soared upon finally seeing the scrunch of your noise and letting your giggles weave their way through the gaps in his heart, "but that's the thing, you're my biggest weakness and i was...terrified, because let's face it, sweetheart: nothing good ever happens to me."

his last words were uttered directly into your scalp, the high and mighty, confident captain kaeya too afraid to stare into your eyes and realize how weak of a man he truly was. his arms locked so tight around your waist in fear that moving would mean time would restart again, and he was more than happy to relive this moment forever and ever.

instead, your hands found their way around his torso, and those velvety lips that he'd spent so many hours fawning over and daydreaming of what they'd feel like upon his, gently pressed themselves to the line of his jaw.

"you should've told me how you felt, you're a big idiot, you know that?" if possible, he might have sagged in relief and went completely limp in your arms right then and there, but the loving gaze in which you tangled him up in had him staying upright just to see the stars reignite in your irises,

"but you don't have to worry. i promise you," he watched with bated breath as your hands moved to hold his face, thumb gentle tracing under the fabric of his charcoal eyepatch, "you deserve genuine, good things, even if they aren't me. you deserve them."

it turns out that kaeya alberich was in fact, a desperate man. desperate in the way his hands came to cup your cheeks and tilt your head to the side, allowing him perfect access to the lips he'd dreamed of kissing for so long. you fit into him like a puzzle piece, the warmth he'd be devoid of for so long began to fill up with your scent and your name began to etch itself into the white of his irises all while your lips molded so perfectly against his.

"you are something good," he broke away, panting for air to say those few words, pressing one more chaste kiss to your lips before continuing, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

and he'd never let go again, not when you so readily dove back in to capture his lips just like you'd done his heart.

RULE #5: TREASURE EVERY MOMENT WITH THEM; LET YOUR WALLS DOWN

kaeya hadn't felt this light since he was a mere child with no weight on his shoulders or chains wrapped around his waist.

the simple slip of your hand into his had him seeing stars and breathing in a nose full of fresh roses and sparkling carnations doused in sugar and honey. you were so addicting, a new type of craving where his liver would no longer have to fight nightly battles or scream at him to cease his indulgences.

you were a drug that so easily coursed through his system and had him on a constant high with your gentle fragrance that wrapped itself in silky ribbons around his heart and your feather light touch upon his icy skin.

everything with you was an adventure to him, whether you babysat klee and played pirates for the afternoon, or stole necklaces and jewels from treasure hoarders to give back to their rightful owners, any time spent with you was time that he wished he could scoop up into a box to place in his pocket.

everything about you was so tantalizing and genuine. the minute his eyepatch fell off to reveal the hidden stories underneath, your arms found their way around his shoulders, and your hushed whispered reassured him over and over that no matter what you'd be right by his side: and that was all he ever needed. you embraced him whether he has tears running down his face, or was covered in dirt and grime from a day of fighting, you cared not for surface level appearances as you did the kind soul that laid beneath his charming layer.

but kaeya felt more inclined to look beyond the physical layers of your body in a manner of his hands skidding upwards under your shirt: cool fingertips gliding across searing hot skin eager for his touch. your hands traced the outlines of the numerous scars on his bare upper body. he watched with sheer adoration in his eyes as you covered a certain willowy patch of burnt skin rooting outwards from his shoulder with your kisses and affectionate, gentle strokes of your hands.

he fumbled with the elaborate buckles of his clothes, hands shaking despite having danced this tango numerous times. but this particular time felt so vulnerable, with each article of clothing he removed he felt his charismatic layers come undone until he was nothing but the timid, shy boy he once was. in your arms he breathlessly stole kiss after kiss from your air deprived lips and sought to take hold of all the love you could give. he traversed through the grooves of your skin up to the crook of your neck, where his eyes met yours for a brief moment before sliding shut and letting the gap be filled with your intertwined love.

with the final removal of his eyepatch, he was bare for you to see with both of your eyes for the monster he truly believed himself to be. and yet, you looped your arms around his neck and tugged him downwards, trapping him in a tender, slow, and riveting kiss.

"i love you, (y/n)," kaeya whispered against your lips, forehead pressed tightly against yours. you responded in kind with the gentle scrape of your nails against his bare, scarred back and the words he drank from your lips.

the minute you became one with him was when he finally understood what it meant to love someone with all your heart.

RULE #6: BE PATIENT, AND UNDERSTANDING

you were an enigma, truly enthralling and incomprehensibly thrilling. but perhaps too incomprehensible for him to understand at points. to yell at you with indignance in his voice would mean to surrender his right to ever be called yours, but the minute your accusing voice comes barreling through his bedroom doors, he's retreating into his shell and immediately considering the "what if's".

"kaeya, you can't be serious! you're injured, you can't possibly even think that you're in fit enough shape to be leading squadrons right now!"

he watched as you tried a gentle method of persuasion at first, only for it to escalate until you were practically begging him with a hoarse voice to please just lay back down and get some rest.

"i told you, dove," he paused, wincing to avoid any strain seeping into his voice as he shifted on the bed, "i'm perfectly fine. they need me there, i can't just say no. you know how it is, don't you, sweetheart?"

left alone to bare the barrage of a hilichurl attack, it was a miracle he managed to make it out with only moderate injuries. his shoulders were bandaged, left arm put in a brace and shin patched up for scrapes and bruises.

"please, kaeya..." he tried to catch your arm as you sank to the floor, words caught on the thorny edges of your muffled cries and choked sobs. your hands gripped onto his like a lifeline and squeezed with all your might, "you're not expendable, please, you need to get better first."

the expendable line played over and over again in his head, for years even. the guilt began to seep its way into his heart and he found himself ceding to your prayers.

"alright, dove, i promise you no more fighting for now," kaeya's large palm gently stroked the top of your head and silently rubbed away your worries, "but i am expecting entertainment while i'm bed ridden, some kisses would suffice wouldn't you say?" he broke out into a charming grin upon seeing the defeated smile on your face.

it was worth it if it meant he got to feel your lips on his. he'd take any chance to cherish this feeling.

RULE #7: SPEND YOUR MORNINGS TOGETHER IN COMPLETE BLISS

"leaving already?" kaeya's sleep ridden eyes registered the bleary image of you tugging your attire on for the day.

"yep! it'll be a short mission, i'll be back in time for lunch. should we eat at good hunter today?" beaming, you turned your eyes to him while your fingers busied themselves with lacing up the boots on your feet.

kaeya shifted to sitting upwards in bed and propped his chin up on his fist, "y'know, you'd look really good in a corset." he mused out loud, a dreamy smile on his face.

"hey, mister, you're getting distracted! good hunter for lunch today?" despite the chiding phrasing and the snapping of your fingers in front of his delirious face, it seemed just like him, you couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto your face.

"anywhere you want, darling. i'm good as long as it's with you." he watched as you padded over and sat on his side of the bed, stretching your hand out to cup his cheek only for his head to turn inwards and press a kiss to your palm.

"alright, good hunter it is."

he was sure it was a pain to get him to loosen his grip from around your waist, even as you trudged down the stairs and tried to convince him at the front door that you didn't need a kaeya-shaped utility belt.

now he wishes he never let go.

RULE #8: ALWAYS KISS THEM GOODBYE—YOU NEVER TRULY KNOW WHEN IT'LL BE YOUR LAST

even with the passage of so much time, your lips never failed to make him weak in the knees. still in the doorway of your shared home, he loathed the idea of letting you go, even if your mission was to be quick and easy and you'd be back in his arms in time for lunch at good hunter.

"can this mission be rescheduled? i don't recall the last time i had a proper day off, and i can't even spend it with you." like a kicked puppy, he pouted into the crook of your neck and swayed your intertwined bodies in the archway of the front door.

"unfortunately not," you stifled a giggle and brought his face downwards for another tender kiss, "but i promise that you'll have all of me as soon as i come back."

"you better keep your promise, darling." a kiss to your nose, a kiss to both your cheeks, eyelids, temples, neck, and one more chaste kiss to your smiling lips.

"you know i'm one to keep my word."

he never expected to be able to so freely say such weighted words without a barrage of weighted emotions clinging to his heart, but now he utters them so freely, so truthfully, and so wholly that he can hardly believe that it's his voice.

"i love you, (y/n)." with one more, lingering, tender, and gentle kiss, he could never be satisfied but it was enough to last him until lunch.

"and i love you, kaeya. i'll see you later!"

RULE #9: COME RUNNING WHEN THEY NEED YOU MOST

"s-sir kaeya..."

kaeya watched impatiently as the young knight caught his breath, dressed in his city clothes in preparation for lunch at good hunter.

"that's me, can i help-"

"it's master (y/n), t-they've been injured-!"

kaeya felt his heart still.

"send a healer after me!" he muttered lowly, grabbing his sword and coat.

the knight needed to say nothing more.

adrenaline carried kaeya's feet to where he knew you'd be, sword floating ferociously behind his back. this world couldn't take you from him, not the one good thing that's ever happened to him. anything but you.

images of your smile, sounds of your laugh, the feel of your soft, warm skin against his and the feelings that erupted in his heart when you held him so tenderly and pressed kiss after kiss to his lips...he pleaded with whatever archon, whatever deity was out there to spare your life.

but upon arriving at your mission site, it was clear that no archons nor deities cared for his mortal desires.

it was such a beautiful day: sun poured from the heavens and a gentle breeze complimented the beaming sun. but the thick pool of blood that surrounded your limp body and the mitachurl about to finish you off had him rushing forwards and impaling his sword straight into the monster's heart with a strangled cry, blood swishing in his ears once he got a proper look at you.

"no no no no no (y/n) look at me, come on, open your eyes-!" he cried out desperately, dropping to his knees. all he could see was the red that soaked your clothes from the open wound in your chest, eyes shut and rolling around in the back of your skull.

his hands clumsily fumbled with his silky, periwinkle cape, taking great care to press it to the large gash that lined your chest. "come on darling, we're gonna have lunch at good hunter's, y-yeah?" his eyes frantically searched for any signs of consciousness, and he sagged in relief upon seeing the beautiful, gem like color of your eyes peeping back at him.

"that's it, that's good, sweetheart. keep looking at me, darling, don't shut your pretty eyes, okay? the medic will be here soon, i promise." blood spattered up from your lips in a horrid cough and he felt the familiar dread and putrid stink of death come up to haunt him from behind his shoulders.

but not you, you wouldn't fall prey to the clutches of death.

"hey, hey, you're gonna be okay, i promise." but it seemed like he was trying to convince himself of something that could never be, not with the amount of blood that seeped through the thin material of his cape nor the paling of your skin and droopiness of your eyes.

"kae-ya..." your supple palm, coated in blood, staggered upwards to cup his cheek and swipe away at the tears that pooled from his exposed eyes.

when had he started crying?

RULE #10: MAKE SURE THEY KNOW THEY ARE LOVED

"no, darling, this isn't goodbye. you're going to be okay, you're going-" it was as if his words had grown thorns and impaled the thin walls of his neck: nothing came out despite his growing pleads and dwindling reassurances. the medic was nowhere in sight and his cape was soaked through with irony, sticky blood.

"kaeya..." he hardly recognized the hoarse, exhausted voice that crept out from your lips—lips that he adored so much.

his hand pressed itself against yours that firmly placed itself against his cheek, "what is it darling? what's wrong?"

the tears that had collected in your eyes finally began to trickle down the sides of your face as you struggled to raise your other hand to hold his tear soaked face in your hands.

"i love you, please don't forget that."

the mirrored world of rosy tints and honey glows began to shatter around him once he realized the true implications behind your loving words.

"i know, i know, sweetheart, and you can tell me tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and forever onwards," there was a manic desperate tone to his voice as he scrambled to put pressure on the wound and keep your warmth intact. he was sure if his knees were to dig any further into the earth, he'd become one with the dirt and perhaps that'd be a better fate than losing you forever.

"no...need to tell you...now...kaeya..." even on death's door, your stubbornness reigned supreme as your bloodied hand placed itself over the hand he'd been using to put pressure on your wound.

you arms silently stretched out towards him and he took your body into his gratefully, cradling your head to his chest as if you were constructed of fragile glass or thin marble.

his cries were ceaseless and of a man who was desperate for a miracle, for anything, just for your brevity and a moment longer where he can hold your face and kiss you without tasting the tang of blood on his tongue. even as your lips dried and breaths began to slow, his lips lingered all over your skin and left tingles in his wake, followed by strangled "i love you"s strung together with broken cries and warbled sobs.

"you deserve...good...things..." you quietly mumbled, taking great care to brush aside the locks from his face.

your words only elicited a mangled cry from his lips as his thumbs ran their soft pads over the plump of your cheeks, covered in both a mix of your tears and his, "but you are my good thing," and he repeats the words he said so many nights ago with heavy breaths and choked cries, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." and like so many nights, he pressed his forehead against yours and takes in the last sight of your beautiful eyes, aglow with love and satisfaction.

just as the medic arrives on scene, the wispy winds of your last breath fall against his lips and his world begins to crumble to dust.

RULE #11: NEVER FALL IN LOVE

date published: september 3rd, 2021

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victorias-fic-recs

3 years ago

you’re such a handful, you’re lucky i love you.

pairing. diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

genre. fluff

synopsis. diluc makes sure you don’t drink too much.

wc. 0.6k

an. this was a hc i made with an irl of mine and now its a whole fic,, n e way ! if you are drinking, please do it safely (be with someone you trust !!) and if you are going out, wear your FUCKING mask :D take care <3

You’re Such A Handful, You’re Lucky I Love You.

diluc watches you pour another round of drinks with the bard and the cavalry captain. you’re all laughing and joking about on this friday evening and he trusts that those two won’t do anything to you, however, the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed in the last thirty minutes is concerning.

diluc cannot keep his hands to himself. especially when it comes to you.

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victorias-fic-recs

4 years ago

Shoot sorry- for my request it was akaashi- for some reason i cant find your marsterlist, or if you have one but the event said any character? Either way if you do any character i wont mind :)

yaho darling! 💕 sorry this is really late! been busy with work and hit a writer's block for a while! 🙇🏻‍♀️ but here's your request and i hope you like it 😘 i thought it came out pretty cute 😗

“Keiji! We gotta leave soon!” you rush your fiancé even though it’s you who needs to hurry; dress only zipped halfway up your back, earring missing its twin, and you’re still shaking the setting spray as you check your purse for anything missing. Akaashi is leaning against the doorway between the bedroom and the connecting bathroom, a fond smile spread on his face. He’s all dressed up and ready, but he can’t help observing you go to and fro in your shared bedroom. He finds it adorable with the way you scrunch up your face in concentration as you search for the other pair to your earring set then the way you chirp in triumph when you find it. He loves watching you get ready for dates. Actually, he loves every little thing that you do; it’s why he’s marrying you. Akaashi’s heart swells with adoration and pride as he sees the engagement ring twinkle due to your vanity lights as you put on your setting spray. Memories of mere hours ago when he finally proposed to you replaying in his mind. He still feels floaty from when you had cried out “Yes!” as he asked you to marry him. Sensing his eyes on you, you peek at him from the reflection of the vanity mirror then give him a coy smile when your eyes meet his. Something tickles up your spine as you see the smile on his face grow and you duck your head when you see him leave the doorway to walk over to you. You’re not sure why you feel so shy all of a sudden, you’ve been with this man for years now. The ring around your finger knowingly winks up at you so you busy yourself with putting the other earring on while ignoring the fluttering in your chest and stomach. You bristle a bit when you feel Akaashi right behind you, the tickle in your spine increasing. A quiet gasp escapes you as he tenderly brushes your hair out of the way then helps you zip the rest of your dress up. He does it slowly and the air between you two gets tense. Before he zips your dress close, Akaashi presses his lips against the back of your neck. “Keiji...” You call to him softly and your eyes search his when they meet again in the mirror’s reflection. “I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now,” he confesses to you. That has you turning around to face him, and you snake your hands to rest them on his chest. “Kiss me... Please?” You ask him with eyes shining and cheeks heated. Your fiancé lets himself drown in your dazzling orbs before leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. When Akaashi pulls back, he almost laughs at how cute you’re disappointingly pouting up at him. “Kiss me again, like you mean it,” you huff at him to which he nods, an amused chuckle falling from his lips. His hands on your hips pull you flushed against him and that has you wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are over yours in flash, kissing you as if he’s starved. Tongues dance and moans are swallowed. When you two part, both of you are panting to catch a breath but lovestruck smiles set on your faces. He sighs happily and rests his forehead against yours,

“Maybe we can be a few minutes late...”

HoneyBunny's 400 Event: Closed

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victorias-fic-recs

2 years ago

Caught

A/N: I was supposed to post this during Cyno’s banner….but I took forever and now it’s here. I hope that y’all enjoy!

Pairing: Cyno x Reader

Summary: Reader, a student in the Akademiya, has grown bored with studies and started seeking out different ways to get caught by the General Mahamatra. Culminating in the latest chase.

CW: None

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234 notes View Post

victorias-fic-recs

4 years ago

this is too hot i-

Snare

Keiji Akaashi x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

WC: 3k

TW: Exhibitionism, Degradation, Teasing, Begging, Bratty Reader, Daddy Kink, Spitting, Spanking, Asphyxiation, Mirror Fucking, Jealousy

A/N: This is my (extremely late) secret santa gift for @deathcab4daddy. Forever sorry that it took me this long to finish, but I wanted to make sure it was perfect; hope you enjoy it love! ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Irritation is not an emotion Keiji feels often. Trying as you are, he prides himself on keeping a level head and soft tone, only ever offering the truth with a smile. It’s only right, considering how much experience he’s had dealing with explosive personalities.

Tonight, he can feel himself slipping.

It’s not that you’re being explicitly difficult; hell, you’ve been nothing short of an angel all day. From the breakfast you served him in bed to the time you spent lounging and simply enjoying each other’s presences, it seemed like Kuroo’s Christmas party was bound to be the icing on the cake to a perfect day. And when he watched you glide out in a short, velvety dress—all long, lustrous legs and bare shoulders—Keiji was positive nothing could ruin his mood.

“Yeah, ‘Kaashi was so plastered he face-planted in front of his date,” Bokuto’s deep baritone rings out amongst the throngs of guests, “and to make it worse, he puked all over her dress!”

“Kōtarō, please,” you let out a giggle dipped in one too many glasses of champagne, manicured fingers grazing his larger friend’s bicep and lingering just a second too long for Keiji’s liking. He knows that his friend’s story is all in good fun, that your gesture is innocent, that the casual word, ‘please,’ is nothing compared to the strings of prayers and curses alike that he has you sobbing beneath the sheets most nights.

So he remains silent, hands stuffed in his pockets, glaring with furrowed brows and a permanent scowl. Is it just him or did Bokuto actually flex when you touched his arm? Every time his eyes glance towards yours, Keiji can’t help but grit his teeth harder. Perhaps he’s just overreacting, turning nothing into something for the sake of his frail ego.

Maybe he’s the one being difficult.

But the night continues this way for far too long—Bokuto landing joke after joke, you chuckling along, and Keiji downing glass after glass of champagne and still feeling painfully sober.

When a careless quip about his stamina, or lack thereof, is thrown out, Keiji decides he’s had enough. He offers his clueless best friend a polite excuse, threads his fingers around your dainty wrist, and tugs you into a far hall of the looming house. It doesn’t matter that his body sways with every step or that the words muttered beneath his breath are slurred; his only concern is pulling you away, reclaiming your precious attention, and losing his cool in the privacy of a shadowy corner where no one will take notice.

“What the fuck was that?” Despite being well-past inebriated and teetering on plastered, Keiji thinks he’s doing a stellar job at keeping his voice even and reserved. A quick glance at your raised brows tells him otherwise.

“I think I should be asking you that question,” you run your fingers down the miniskirt of your dress, smoothing out wrinkles that don’t exist. He’d think it’s a tell—a trick to steady wavering, guilty hands—but your stare doesn’t shift from his own. “You haven’t said a word all night.”

Firm as you’re trying to be, your voice is still twinged in confusion, the words tumbling from your lips a soft whine of annoyance. It’s nothing Keiji’s not used to, but tonight it seems the alcohol is speaking.

“And? You’re too busy drooling over ‘Kōtarō’ to care.” With that blunt retort, he feels a bit more himself. A version seething with envy, but still, himself.

The impact is swift, a worried bite at your lip flitting into a slow, knowing smile. Keiji can read you like a book, but what the hell is there to be smiling about when he’s deathly serious?

“Keiji,” your lithe fingers trail at his crisp collar, causing him to sink further against the wall, “are you jealous?”

“No.” Yes.

He can feel his head clouding over, the weight of all the downed champagne bubbling up with every stroke of your hands across his chest. The privacy of the empty hallway now seems uncomfortable, far more cramped than the bodies crowded into Kuroo’s large living room.

“You’ve been around me too long,” you giggle, teasing, “I see you pouting, babe.” It’s clear you’re trying to rectify the situation by poking fun, but Keiji doesn’t budge, doesn’t want to budge; not that easily, anyways.

His lack of compliance only makes you laugh harder, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him even as he tries to shake you off. “We were talking about you the entire time, drama queen.”

He catches himself before he can crack a smile; at this point, he’s in too deep to simply kiss and make up. Though if you continue to carelessly splay your body against his, that plan may quickly slip out of reach. Every brush of your breasts against his bicep or warm hands roaming his body reminds him why he typically stays sober at these functions. A tipsy girlfriend makes for a loss of inhibitions—and a complete lack of self-awareness.

“Do you even realize what you’re doing?”

“Huh?” He watches as your face contorts, confusion etched onto your soft features once again. It’s adorable, almost allows him to forget you’ve been trying his last nerve all night. Almost.

“You– ugh.” Instead of arguing, Keiji twists your bodies, caging you in against the wall. His hands roam your bare thighs, kneading and pressing at the supple skin and reveling in the heat that seems to pull his fingertips closer. His lips ghost over your collarbone, your neck, your jaw, never quite making contact even as you shift to allow him access.

A smile spreads across his face when he hears you mewl softly, fed up with his groping. “I can see you pouting, babe,” he speaks between grazes, licking the shell of your ear, “but you did this to yourself.”

“Keiji, we’re in public,” trembling hands push at his chest, a half-hearted attempt at maintaining respectability. Well, it’s too late for that.

“Yeah? What about when you were all over Bokuto?” He skims a finger across the hem of your dress—smooth red velvet sending shivers down his spine—before tugging it up. The article’s so skimpy, he doesn’t even have to, but the way your eyes widen is worth it. “What about when you were all over me, just a minute ago? Were you not in public then?”

“That- that was all innocent,” you whisper hurriedly, voice jittery as your brows furrow. He runs his finger across your panties, an action that makes you keen and him snicker. He doesn’t let up, simply because he can’t contain his excitement any longer; the lace is absolutely drenched.

“That’s why you’re fucking soaked right now, huh.” Keiji’s words are surprising, even to himself; though blunt, he’s not typically so vulgar. But they work wonders on the both of you.

He feels your lower half twitch towards him, hands reaching out to steady yourself against his shoulders. All the while, your eyes are lidded, glazed over in– lust? inebriation? Whatever the reason, it does it for him. He feels his dick harden beneath his slacks, strains it against your thigh so you can feel how painfully frustrated he is with you, for you. “Anything to say for yourself?”

At that, you seem to regain your bearings, hands settling more firmly on his shoulders. When you look him in the eyes, Keiji can practically see the jest—the disobedience—dancing across your irises. Your lips quirk into a devilish smirk and out tumbles the word he had been waiting on,

“Nope.”

And there’s the brat he knows, coming out to play your favorite game of cat and mouse. You want to make him work for it, desire nothing more than to be treated like the whore you are until you’re crying and begging for him. He knows the game well, of course.

But this time, he’s got something different in mind.

The sheer disappointment on your face when Keiji untangles himself from you is enough to make him cackle. As he turns away, he offers little explanation in the form of a shrug and a devious smile.

“Heard Kuroo’s making a speech,” he throws over his shoulder, “we should probably head back.” He doesn’t even have to check to know you’re pouting.

As the night continues, he knows he’s got you precisely where he wants you. An ‘accidental’ graze of his arm on yours makes you shiver, the hand glued to your lower back has you keening into him, every charged gaze into your eyes and sharp flash of pearly canines results in a lip bite and clenched thighs. But still, he makes no move towards you.

Because this time, the mouse is going to come to the cat—hand delivered with a shiny red bow to boot.

“All in all, I’m just glad I could have my closest friends around for the holidays,” Kuroo raises a glass to the small crowd, “Merry Christmas!”

Keiji raises his glass with the rest of them, the same one he’s been carrying around for the past hour; sobriety is necessary for what’s to come. When you raise yours, he shifts his fingers to massage slow circles into the back of your thigh.

A gasp, shattered glass, and dozens of eyes trained on you.

It wasn’t his intended reaction, but it works at riling you up nonetheless. Soon, you’re apologizing for your clumsiness, glare unwavering from Keiji’s own amused smile even as you whisk him away to the bathroom ‘to clean up’.

“Keiji,” you stress, arms crossed against your chest, while he’s kneeling beneath you rubbing at the tiny stain.

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t dare ruin the little trick he’s mastered: feigned indifference.

“Keijiii.” This time it’s a whine, high-pitched and drawn out in the hopes that it’ll sway him. When he finally glances up towards you, he can practically taste the desperation threaded through your face. Your hands grab at his jaw, ghosting a thumb across his cheekbone as you finally, finally break, “Need you.”

But it’s not enough for him.

“Is that any way to ask?” He snickers, you let out a huff of frustration, and the game goes on.

“We’re in a tiny bathroom at your friend’s Christmas party. I’m not gonna sit here and beg–”

He turns his head, making a move to leave, “Oh, the stain’s gone. We should probably head ba–”

“No, no– wait!” Your palms grab at his face again, frenzied and forlorn, slightly sticky and sickly sweet, reminiscent of the bubbly champagne still surging through your bodies. “Just fuck me already.” It’s spoken hardly above a whisper, laced with urgency.

“Vulgar, but not quite,” Keiji teases, but he finds his hands already on you, drifting over the smooth skin of your calves, your thighs, and toying at the soft, velvet hem of your dress once again.

“Please.” That earns you a few kisses to your inner thighs, to which your legs party readily. Needy slut. He can hardly wait himself, wants to pounce on you and be done, but the wait is worth it.

“Please what?” He speaks between nips and licks at your thighs, traveling closer and closer to heaven, but never touching you where you both need it most.

“Please daddy, fuck me.”

And finally, Keiji complies.

The bathroom is cramped, filled with heat and fervor and two bodies haphazardly grabbing and groping anywhere they can get their hands on. He lifts you onto the sink, lips clashing to yours passionately; your fingers weave through his hair, shooting sparks down his spine.

Every touch is a plea for more, an insatiable craving to meld your bodies into one. He fumbles with your dress’s zipper before deciding it’s a hopeless endeavor, choosing instead to tug the bodice down and hem up to expose you.

When he pulls his lips from yours, a string of saliva still connects you. He gives you a once over and– fuck. You—with your lidded eyes glazed over, lips puffy, breasts strained against his chest—are enough to drive Keiji mad.

In seconds, his fingers are at your cunt and his lips at your neck. He shifts your panties to the side and slides two digits into you easily, reveling in the heat that envelops him.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp sharply, a pretty little noise that he wants, needs, to hear again and again. With each thrust, it’s as though your cunt molds to his fingers, pulls him in and aches for more. His thumb at your clit makes you twitch and bite at his shoulder, and all the while, Keiji grinds his throbbing cock against your leg.

But it’s not about him, not yet. Right now, he wants nothing more than to see you fall apart, to cling to him and chant his name like a prayer—trembling and begging for more.

His free hand flits to your jaw, pressing your mouth open. And like the good little whore he knows you are, your tongue rolls right out. Keiji’s enraptured by the spit that hits it, offers you a rough grunt of ‘hold it,’ while he continues to pump and curl his fingers into you.

You’re nearing the edge; he can feel it in the way you clutch at his shirt, in your furrowed brows and quivering thighs. It only makes him move faster, resolute in making you see stars.

“Cum for me.” It’s a demand more than a request—one that he knows you’ll fulfill with devotion.

And you do. One press against that spot Keiji knows good and well, and your body stills, muscles straining and a choked mewl leaving you with a shudder. He works you through it, biting at your neck and soothing over the pain with his tongue.

“Turn over.” You may be worn out, body still quivering against his, but Keiji’s not quite done with you yet.

He unzips his pants in a flash, pulls his cock out in half that time. Rubbing against your slit, his entire body shudders with need. “So messy,” he can’t help but groan, hands secured to your waist. It only makes you hump back against him, wiggling any way you can to get him inside of you.

Back and forth, he runs his member across your slick, spreading it all over him—though he doubts he’ll need the extra lubrication. “Tell me how badly you want it.”

“Please Keiji,” a stinging slap to your ass, “Please daddy, I need you. Need you so fucking bad.” Your hands are flush against the counter, gripping the sides with enough force to turn your knuckles white. Keiji thinks he likes you best like this, wanton and breathless, splayed out for him like a common whore where anyone could see you. It suits you, he thinks.

He sinks into you hard and fast, basking in the warmth of your cunt— the way it pulsates and stretches around him. No matter how hard you try to keep quiet, your moans quickly escalate from soft, whiny whimpers to full-blown mewls. Keiji quickly reaches to shove a finger into your mouth, then two, pressing down hard on your tongue until you gag and sputter around them.

“That’s it, baby,” his free hand tangles through your locks, yanking so that your face meets the mirror. “Take a look at yourself.”

“Mmph.” Whatever you’re trying to get out is hazy, turned into mindless babble as you pant and squirm beneath him. Even as you try to keep your eyes trained on your reflection, every thrust makes your eyes roll back, a movement that prompts Keiji to tug harder on your hair.

“I said,” another harsh snap of his hips against your ass, “look.” Despite his attempt to gag you, a delirious, high-pitched moan is ripped from your throat. He removes his fingers from your mouth, only to smear spit-soaked fingers across your plump lips. Sloppy, just how he likes you.

Keiji begins to lose himself in you; it doesn’t matter that your voices are escalating, that your hands hit the wall with a resounding thunk every time he pounds into you, or that the two of you have been gone for far too long to blame on a stain. His only concern is the fluttering of your soft cunt around him and your inevitable releases.

“M’close,” you murmur, eyes screwed shut. He keeps his pace, fast and hard, and nuzzles his face into your neck, enveloping himself in the smell of warm vanilla, champagne, and sweat—a combination good enough to fucking eat. One of his hands moves to wrap around your throat, the other to rub circles on your bud.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “such a perfect whore for me.”

Your entire body tightens, muscles tensing as you murmur strings of gibberish. Keiji doesn’t let up, doesn’t dare stop moving his fingers, even as you buck and shake. With the way your cunt sucks him in, the warmth and pleasure of each hump into you, he finds himself close behind you—stilling all at once to paint your insides white.

And then you’re both left panting, unmoving from your spots on the counter, all tangled limbs and sweat-soaked skin. He takes a moment to regain his composure, whispering soft praise into your ears as you both come down from your highs.

When he’s finally settled, he slips out of you, grabbing toilet paper to wipe you both off while you fix your dress.

“That was–” You sigh contently, voice hoarse, and turn to look at him, still wearing that fucked out glow that makes his heart soar.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think anyone noticed?”

A knock at the door.

“Uhm, hello?” Kuroo stutters. Bokuto’s deafening laughter can be heard from behind him. “Yeah, uh, the party ended twenty minutes ago.”

Keiji smiles.

“They noticed.”