Little sister who sleeps on the bottom bunk naked wakes up to see her big sister on top of her, her legs being spread apart by her big sister. Big sis covers her mouth and tells her "Be quite you little tease" she lifts her little sister's legs onto her shoulders and presses her hard leaky cock against little sister's tiny hole. This was what Little sister wanted, to finally be taken by her big sis, to be raped by her big sis. Neither of them got any sleep that night and mommy heard everything.
Mommy taking you panties shopping, helping you try one increasingly more lewd panties, groaping you as she helps you in the dressing room. You whimper at her touches and try to keep quiet, she loves watching you squirm in public places and she's going to make you break right here in this changing room.
୧ ‧₊˚ when it comes to you, ajax always goes above and beyond. ˚₊‧୨
˚ starring, childe x f!reader
˚ includes, modern!au ; childhood bestfriend!childe ; nsfw content (18+, mdni!) ; childe is called 'ajax' here ; childe is whipped and lowkey possessive ; actually could be vaguely yandere if you squint real hard ; it’s kinktober season so of course i had to throw in a sprinkle of shady manipulation on childe’s end ; honestly reader is pretty dense but we roll, girl, we roll ; written in snippets, sort of ; first times / loss of virginity ; fingering ; oral (m receiving) ; unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it, folks) ; pet names !!!! (babe/baby, angel) ; praise ; creampies (but no breeding ……… yet :) ) ; not beta’d or proofread (pls tell me if you spot any grammar/continuity errors!)
˚ wc, 19.6k
˚ lucy says, my first genshin fic, and my first fic on this blog, and my first fic after i think 2 years of no writing... lotta firsts for this. :') but childhood friends to lovers childe wouldn't leave me alone so here we are! likes and reblogs are appreciated!
you'd made a vow, back when you were still five.
it was simple and straightforward, though by no means eloquent (so little of what came out of your mouths back then could really be considered that, anyway), but at the time, it had felt right. ajax was a bright child, albeit a little boisterous at times, and always the center of attention without even trying. you were drawn to him, an easy moth seated right next to a tender flame. you enjoyed his sudden and animated interjections during story time, and he openly admired the way you colored and wrote so neatly for your age. snack time was always him pawing through your lunch box for the sliced fruits he'd learned your mother would pack (you’d soon come to ask her for extra, just for him), and at quiet time, he'd always save a space for you near the wooden blocks so that you could spend yet another lazy afternoon building the tallest tower you could.
it happens on the last day of kindergarten, just as you sit in the playground sandbox. the other kids move around in little clumps, chittering about summer vacation — how strange and special this one would be because you'd be going your separate ways into different primary schools. ajax pours a bucket of sand listlessly onto his shins, then flails them, kicking the grains into the air.
"ajax!" you whine, sticking your tongue out. “you’re getting it everywhere!”
“i hate summer vacation,” he groans, tossing the bucket towards the far corner of the sandpit.
“liar. you always say summer vacation is the best thing ever.”
“not this time.” there’s a muffledness to his voice that comes from his severe pout. “we’re not going to see each other after it.”
nearing the end of the year, you’d come to learn that you were going to different schools, but you hadn’t thought it had mattered; did not seeing each other everyday mean you stopped being friends? would you be unable to see him ever again? worse, did it mean ajax would have no choice but to forget you?
“maybe i can ask my mom and dad if we can do that thing together this summer.” you scrunch up your nose in search of the word. “ca— camping?”
“it wouldn’t be the same,” he says mournfully. “we can’t have lunch together anymore, and teacher says when you get older, you make new friends, but i don’t want to make new friends.”
the teariness of his words has your lip trembling too; you reach out before you can stop yourself, sandy palms pressing against his cheeks.
“i don’t want to make new friends either!” you declare, and his wide, shiny eyes fix on you. “so we’re just going to be together forever. i’m not leaving you, and you’re not leaving me, okay?”
“forever?” he echoes, hushed, like the word itself is hallowed. “you promise?”
“mhm. i promise.” you nod fiercely, and something in his expression seems to lighten with relief.
of course, the school year still ends in a torrent of tears and childishly dramatic goodbyes, only partly assuaged by your parents’ half-laughed promises that you’ll still be able to play on one or another weekend. you have no choice but to let them tear you apart come dismissal, and you weep and hiccup all throughout the car ride home. by the time you pull into the driveway, you’re fast asleep, your fist clutching the last drawing of a blue whale that ajax had given you as a parting gift.
time should heal these kinds of wounds, especially minor ones brought about by the foolish, unregulated emotions of a child. by the end of summer vacation, following blisteringly hot days chasing down the ice cream truck and nights filled with game show music, the memory of having to say goodbye to ajax is nothing but a light scar on your tender heart. it’s too harsh to say that you’ve forgotten about him, but it’s a little too easy to say he isn’t at the forefront of your mind. your images of him grow hazy as each new year passes, your ‘one and only friend’ replaced by many others you share interests and secrets with.
that’s why you don’t expect him to remember you when you transfer into his high school. it was completely unplanned, and you hadn’t even known he would be there. yet, there he is, sitting on a desk in the center of the room, surrounded by classmates who’ve clearly known him for much longer than you do at this point. you might not have recognized him at all, with the way he is now; he’s taller, of course, with the lean build of a student that clearly participates actively in physical sports, and his voice and laugh are deeper and richer (although the standard of all that is particularly low for you, considering the last time you’d heard him speak was a decade ago). but there’s parts of him that have barely changed, that make him distinct and immediately recognizable — the soft, copper lustre of his hair and the flat, dark blue of his eyes.
the latter glosses over you once as you walk into the classroom, an instinctive reaction to new motion, but it doesn’t take long for his gaze to snap back like a stretched rubber band, fixing on you and growing wider as his posture straightens.
even though a friend of his speaks to him, asks him something, he only says your name. everyone else’s eyes fall on you, and your step falters just past the doorway. even with all these other people looking at you, you can only feel his burning gaze.
“don’t you remember me?” he asks when you don’t say anything in immediate response. “it’s me — ajax.”
“oh, right—” you stutter, a little self-conscious at being put on the spot. “ajax! it’s been so long. wow, you’re… i didn’t expect to see you here of all places.”
you remember his smiling being bright, sure, but not this bright — the kind of wideness and lightness to it that seems almost disproportionate to such a mundane situation. of course, childhood friends reconnect; there’s nothing odd about that. but the way he hops off the desk and walks over in huge strides to sweep you up into a strong hug makes you feel like you’re the center of a spectacle, and the only thing that vaguely distracts you from it is the warmth of him enveloping you.
“she was my childhood friend — my first best friend, i should say,” he says by way of introduction to the others staring at you; they offer half-hearted noises of greeting that ajax pointedly ignores. you stand there, with his arm still around you, trying not to think about how you’re pressed into his side and how he smells like some fancy pine-note cologne that seems way too mature and serious for someone his age and demeanor. “funny how fate works out, huh? seeing each other after all these years, i mean.”
“it’s definitely unexpected,” you agree, and if he notices how embarrassed you are at all the staring he’s brought about, he doesn’t make it known; he just draws back, holding you at arm’s length and giving you a very obvious once-over.
“you look good,” he comments after a pause, so out of place that you’re not sure if this is just some weird formality or if he’s being honest for no good reason. you don’t even know if he hears your mumbled, ‘thanks,’ over the sound of the bell that has him releasing you with a quick, playful wink.
you think that’s that when you shuffle over to your seat, ajax taking his own place in the center of the room (at the desk he’d been perched on). after the initial novelty of the reunion wears off, you’ll just be background noise in the lively scene that is his life. you don’t expect much thereafter, sure that his priorities would lie more in his long-term friends, the elements of this school that are familiar and wholly more comfortable to him.
which is why you’re shocked when, during lunch time, a loaded tray plops down in the space in front of you, ajax’s body following soon after. he leans back in his chair with an easy grin, like this is the most natural thing in the world for him to do, like you’re not staring at him with half-chewed food in your mouth.
“what are you doing?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.
“what? we can’t catch up?”
“we can, but…” you squirm, a little unsure how to put your feelings into careful words. “i mean, don’t you have friends you usually sit with during lunch?”
“sure i do,” he hums, breaking into the brioche roll on his tray with his thumb before picking at the foil lid of the butter packet. “but i’ve spent the last few years with them. i want to make up for lost time with you.”
you suppose that makes sense, although a small part of you still wants to point out that the last thing you bonded over was the sand in your shoes over a decade ago. still, you decide to let it slide; maybe it’s just a natural thing, to want to reconnect with someone you remember fondly from way back when. there’s no real harm in that anyway, and you can’t deny that you’ve now become curious about him too — about how he’s grown up, about how he’s changed, and about how much has stayed the same from what little you can remember of his younger personality. you’ll be the first to admit that he’s grown well, with an objectively attractive face and a confident demeanor that supports it excellently.
not that you think about that deeply as you chat with him. he’s eager to talk, to learn more about your life in the time you were apart, and after a short while of feeling interrogated, you find an avenue to ask him about himself too. you learn that he’s in the football club, and that he’s back to playing regularly after suffering a mild knee injury quite recently. he tells you he’s into fortnite, and that just last night, he’d gotten six victory royales in a row, all on solo (you congratulate him honestly because that sounds like a good thing). you find out he’s grown slightly allergic to shellfish and that his mom forces him to join country club mixers, but that everyone there is just an old auntie that’s always slightly tipsy and trying to get him to go on a date with their nieces.
you realize that ajax is, at his core, the same kid you’d known — smart and proactive, freely sociable and eager to try new things. it’s nice to know that he’s still appropriately self-assured, and you think it makes sense that people find him magnetic, as evidenced by earlier that morning. by the end of the lunch hour, you’re stuffed full with tidbits about him, and he’d drawn out as many factoids as he possibly could about you. you walk back with him to the classroom in silence, and when the bell rings, he ruffles your hair lightly before making his way to his desk.
still, you anticipate that this is just a temporary spike in interest from him. there’s so little you can wring out from this situation, and you’re sure that ajax has better things to do than coddle a childhood friend constantly. after all, he has better, closer friends worth spending time with.
for some reason, though, his attention on you doesn’t wane; if anything, as the weeks progress, he embeds himself more deeply into your life. the constant lunches together are one thing, and you even ask him if he’d rather you go sit with the rest of his friends with him, to which he smoothly replies that ‘we can’t talk freely to each other in such a big crowd.’ however, when he learns that you go home alone (after an off-handed comment on your part about listening to the same playlist every afternoon), he starts walking you to the bus stop, even if it’s in the opposite direction from his own route. some mornings, he waits by the door to walk you into the classroom, already firing off about the shitty fortnite run he had last night (someone had sniped him from higher ground, which is totally unfair and unethical, unless he does it himself, of course); other days, you find a cup of coffee (milky and sweet, the way he knows you like it, given that he’s asked about your preferences insistently) sitting on your desk, with a smiley face on the cardboard sleeve that’s drawn on in his signature red sign pen.
gradually, it feels like the years that separated you both melt away. after being out of touch for so long, you now can’t imagine a day without ajax talking to you. you settle into this comfortable routine of relying on him, turning to him for both trivial and important matters, seeking him out over small victories and huge upsets. by the time you’re a senior, it feels like you’ve come full circle. ajax is, once again, your best friend, as he had been all those years ago, now always by your side.
of course, he isn’t your only friend now; you’re both older, and it’s impossible not to have a network at school. you’re amicable to practically everyone, and so is ajax, despite the fact that he seems to dedicate a fair amount of time and energy on you.
“wanna partner up for the chemistry project?” he asks suddenly after a particularly boisterous lunch involving enthusiastic recounts of last night’s pro wrestling match highlights that he’d stayed up to watch live. “thought it’d be stupid to ask you right away last week when i didn’t have a topic to pitch, but i did some research, and i thought we could do like a—”
“i already have a partner,” you cut him off sheepishly. “theo texted over the weekend and asked me. sorry — to be honest, i thought you’d be sick of being my partner at this point, since we’ve done almost every project together this year.”
“oh.” he does nothing to hide the surprise on his face, but something else crosses his expression that you don’t quite catch. it’s gone in the blink of an eye, smoothed over by a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “is that your kind of roundabout way of saying you’re sick of me?”
“no way!” you’re quick to deny, and maybe you should’ve anticipated this, but ajax hadn’t really seemed like the type to care about doing everything together. then again, now that you think about it in retrospect, there’s precious little you haven’t done together to begin with. “you know i love working with you. but i mean — it’s no big deal, right? tell you what — how about we do the infographic for english class together?”
“why? were you planning on ditching me for that, too?” he jokes, his elbow digging lightly into your side. “just don’t get too sad when you end up doing all the work. no other partner in this whole class is going to pull their weight like i do.”
“wow, do you have space in your head to learn with all that hot air going around?” you laugh. “i’ll be fine. theo’s a good guy.”
“i’m sure,” ajax hums, somehow more to himself than you. you figure he’s already thinking of who else to nab as a partner, so you leave things at that. you try not to read too deeply into the fact that he takes a long, slow look at theo from across the room before he settles down into his chair and starts digging around his backpack for a working pen.
with the weekend rolls an unexpected text; it’s theo, with a whole two-inch paragraph about how freya had begged him to be her partner, and how he thinks that he might do better following her project proposal than the ‘weak one he’d pitched to you,’ and he’s really sorry, but it’s not too late to find a new partner anyway, and best of luck! you miss out on the finer details of the excuse, given that it’s only seven-thirty in the morning, but you get the gist of it. with a heavy sigh, you roll over and call the most recent number you’d dialled, the last log being just yesterday evening.
“morning, sunshine.” ajax’s voice is cheery, like he’s been awake for a while now — and, weirdly, almost like he’s been expecting your call. “you woke up early for once.”
“theo texted,” you grumble, rubbing fiercely at your eye. “backed out of being my partner.”
“what an asshole.” he does well at the task of sounding empathic and affronted for your sake. “did he tell you why?”
“god, i don’t know. something about freya, or that his pitch was shit, i think.”
“well, he and freya do seem pretty close,” ajax says sagely. “so why’d you call me?”
“i’m pretty sure this is an asshole move on my part after i ditched you, but if you still don’t have a partner…”
there’s a brief silence on his end that makes you think he might’ve been offended, and honestly, you wouldn’t blame him completely; it’s not like you can avoid making it seem like this is a last-ditch attempt not to do the project alone.
“i mean, sure,” he suddenly speaks up, his voice strangely breezy. “what kind of best friend would i be if i said no?”
“well, i mean — if you don’t want to, or if you — i don’t know — have a partner already, i wouldn’t want you to ditch them for me, either…”
“nah, don’t worry about that. even if i had one — and i don’t, so don’t worry,” he adds before you can argue. “i’d still choose you.”
“thanks, ajax,” you mumble, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. “sorry for putting this on you.”
“you’re not putting anything on me,” he laughs. “but i wouldn’t mind if you said i was the best best friend ever a little more often.”
“you’re totally the best best friend ever,” you concede. “come over so we can finalize the topic?”
“damn straight.” he makes a noise that indicates he’s getting up from bed. “see you in thirty.”
for the rest of the year after that, every project you do, you only do with ajax.
as the months go by, and senior year comes to a slow close, you feel like there are things that pile up — things you can’t put a finger on, can’t seem to fully unpack — between you and ajax. he becomes more insistent that you should come watch his games, even if that means having to wake up at ungodly hours on a sunday to go to a different school across the district just to sit in the rain and see him kick a ball around really quickly. after games where the team wins, he expects you to join him and his family for a celebratory meal at his favorite diner, and after games where they don’t, he expects you to go back with him anyway and have lunch at his house. he always makes you sit next to teucer, who likes to rehash the ‘cool parts’ of the games and how ‘awesome’ ajax was with his last legendary pass or attempted goal, and you just nod along, trying to ignore how smug your best friend looks, like everything’s going according to plan (although, what that plan is, you really have no clue).
on days he doesn’t have practice, ajax even takes you home from school, riding the stuffy twenty-minute long bus ride and trekking the fifteen minute walk home with you, rain or shine. he always makes it an excuse to come in and lounge on your couch, scrolling twitter and showing you things that tickle him, until the sun goes down and his mom texts him to get back for dinner.
you chalk it up to his being naturally clingy, perhaps a bit protective now that it gets darker earlier in the day. but there are also things that you just can’t find an explanation for, like the way he calls you names he never used to — sweetheart and angel make it into his vocabulary a lot more these days. you’d once given him a funny look when he called you ‘babe,’ but he’d just laughed and said it was a bad habit he picked up recently, although you can’t imagine what activity would have formed such a habit in the first place. you let it go because it doesn’t really bother you immensely, but you sometimes wonder if he’s just piling it on you so that he can see you squirm. you wouldn’t put it past him to run an experiment like that, anyway.
then there was that time college results had come in through the school. you’d only applied to a small handful of institutions, what with your program interest being fairly niche; your main hope was that you’d get into zapolyarny tech, the top university in the capital city with a reputation for churning out successful people. ajax had applied to it too, though he was a likely shoe-in for a spot there, what with him going down the sports scholarship track.
homeroom on the day results were given out was absolute chaos; after five minutes of trying to shout herself hoarse over everyone’s chattering, your teacher had just given up and left the class to its own devices completely. it had felt strangely reminiscent of the last day of kinder — people crowding together to compare results and talk about whose offer they’d accept. you’d opened your envelope to see the list of schools that you’d passed, relieved to see snezhnograd university and belovodye institute were on there, along with smaller colleges you’d applied to as a fallback. still, it had been a bit of a punch in the gut not to see zapolyarny as an option.
“trade you,” ajax had interrupted your line of thought, and his paper had slipped across your desk as he tossed it. you’d offered him yours before unfurling his, and you’d seen it there: zapolyarny tech, with the asterisk next to the name that means that he’d been successful in nabbing the scholarship to boot.
“wow, congratulations!” you’d exclaimed, and your happiness for him had been genuine; you’d spent weeks before this chittering about how amazing the campus looked in all the pictures and how you’d stuff yourself full with the all-day all-you-can-eat student caf options. “ajax, that’s awesome — on a scholarship ride, and everything!”
“hmm?” he’d looked up from your paper, blinking rapidly. “oh, thanks. but, man, i don’t know. kind of been having second thoughts about zapolyarny these days. just doesn’t seem like my kind of place, if you get me?”
“what are you talking about?” you’d laughed in disbelief. “you once said that zapolyarny was the place that would birth the superstar version of you. what do you mean, second thoughts?”
“nothing; i just don’t want my judgment to be clouded by a semi-free ride, you know?”
“why wouldn’t you want to take advantage of a scholarship? it’s a scholarship, ajax. they’re practically paying you to go to the best university in the country. what else is there to consider?”
“just other stuff. it’s complicated,” he’d said vaguely. “where are you planning on going, then?”
“i don’t know. i guess snezhnograd. they’ve got affordable on-campus accommodations, and it isn’t as much of a trip from here to there, especially in comparison to — what are you doing?”
you’d watched, appalled, as ajax encircled snezhnograd university on both your papers with his red sign pen.
“i think snezhnograd’s great, too.” his response had been unnervingly smooth and easy. “for all the reasons you just said.”
“i meant for me,” you frown. “you’re a completely different case. you didn’t even apply for a scholarship there; you’ve got family near zapolyarny!”
“snezhnograd’s got a great sports sciences program; at least, it seemed like it when i looked into them.”
he’d capped his pen with a click of finality, and you’d just stared at him, completely at a loss for words. there’d been no logical reason for him to choose a lower-ranked school when he’d gotten a huge shot at the most prestigious one, yet there he’d been, folding both your papers and leaving them under the teacher’s file for submission.
“ajax,” you’d tried to say evenly, worried the stress in your voice would come out slightly deranged. “this is… i mean, think about it. you got into the best school in the country, and you’re turning it down — for what? it doesn’t make any sense.”
“do i need to have a reason?”
“of course!”
he’d stared at you thoughtfully, his dull blue eyes a little hazy. “well, would you have visited me in zapolyarny, if i’d gone?”
“i mean — yeah, why not? i guess i would’ve gone once in a while—”
“if i asked you to come everyday, would you have?” he’d pressed.
“what?” you’d rubbed your temples, feeling an oncoming headache at the turn the converation had taken. “of course not. the commute time alone, and the fare—”
“then, obviously, this was the most sensible choice. that way, we’d be on the same campus.”
you’d fallen silent, completely stumped. a large part of you had wanted to ask why that was even a consideration in all of this, but you hadn’t wanted to seem accusatory, for some reason. ajax had put his hands on your shoulders, holding you at arms length and squeezing, as if trying to work you out of a stupor — which, really, he pretty much had been.
“don’t overthink it, angel,” he’d said, so soothingly your shoulders had somehow untensed. “we made a promise, remember?”
the last week and a half of your senior year are messy, to say the least. it’s an endless array of last-minute requirements and tests that no one wants to study for, and it’s ultimately exacerbated by the end-of-the-year event that everyone seems to be talking about: homecoming.
the game is one thing to be excited for already, but what seems to be causing an uproar among the student population is the dance that comes after. more than once, you’ve walked into school in a hurry only to bear unwilling witness to a homecoming proposal that ultimately makes you late for first period. today is no different; you have to squeeze your way between the lockers and a tight throng of kids taking videos (despite the fact that cellphones during school hours are strictly banned) of some junior guy who’d painted his chest to ask a girl out. you’re lucky that ajax is waiting by the classroom door (as usual) and has the presence of mind and required strength to pull you out before you’re crushed by a wave of backpacks.
“is it just me, or has it never been this crazy before?” you grumble as you walk into the classroom with him.
“i just don’t think you’ve ever paid attention to it as much,” ajax says pointedly, watching you drop into your seat. “you’re still not planning on going this year? it’s our last, you know.”
you’ve always been fine with sticking it out at home; the tasks of finding a dress, finding a ride, and finding a date all seem like a lot of effort for next to no benefit. the stress you’ve seen people go through for one night has created an insurmountable amount of fear around it for you. that’s just your perspective, though. despite the fact that you’ve encouraged him to go, ajax always joins you in your non-attendance. he makes it a point to come over around the time when the dance starts, bearing snacks and old noir movies that you can’t really understand but that he really seems to enjoy talking through.
you’re on the fence for this year, to say the least. ajax does have a point; you don’t have any other opportunity to go to a homecoming, unless you count attending as an alum, which just seems like even more of a waste of time given that you’d be in a completely different city by that point.
“i don’t know, actually,” you sigh, shaking your backpack so that your stuff somehow rearranges into a slightly less bulky form. “i guess it would be pretty lame to sit it out my whole high school life, right? but i just wouldn’t know where to begin, if i’m being honest.”
before ajax can respond, however, a new shadow grows over the space you occupy. you look up to see a classmate, thalia, stopping just by your desk.
“are you guys talking about homecoming?” she’s chewing on her lip, eyes darting between the both of you. you nod, and she shifts her weight between her feet before she continues. “that’s cool. um… i was thinking — ajax, i heard you didn’t have a date yet to the dance.”
“i don’t,” ajax says coolly.
“oh! cool; so i was wondering if you’d maybe want to g—”
“i don’t have a date,” he continues, effectively cutting her off. “because i wasn’t planning on going in the first place.”
the silence that follows is so thick that you feel like you’re genuinely being suffocated. you stick your foot out, catching ajax’s shin with the heel, but if it hurts, he doesn’t show it.
“you did say it’s our last year,” you murmur. “you should go, ajax. i think it’d be fun for you.”
he assesses you with a thoughtful gaze, and you can’t help but feel like he’s picking you apart for some reason, like he’s expecting there’s some kind of subliminal message to your words. thalia is just rooted to the spot, face flushed and looking a little regretful at having approached at all.
“we always hang out on homecoming night, though.” he says it slowly, like it’s some kind of gentle reminder for an amnesiac you.
“that’s just — he’ll get back to you,” you direct your words at thalia, who starts a little and looks to you. “he’s just… just give him some time.”
she nods and scurries off, likely less distressed at the lack of an answer and more relieved at being given an out from such an awkward turn of events.
“i’m not saying you have to go,” you sigh once she’s out of earshot. “but if you’re just sticking it out because i don’t want to, then it kind of makes me feel like a warden.”
“i don’t mind it, though.” his reply is honest and immediate. “i’d rather stay in with you.”
“okay, but that’s — i mean, you don’t have to.” it frustrates you that you can’t seem to properly articulate what about this just seems ridiculous. “you don’t have to make it a pity party. i’m not sitting around moping.”
you don’t expect him to plant both his hands on your desk and lean in; his face is so close to yours that you can see the quiver of his pupils as he looks straight into your eyes.
“you think that i just hang around you because i pity you?” his voice is quiet. you stiffen, forgetting how to swallow, forgetting how to breathe. “you think i don’t have any other reason?”
you blink slowly, practically short-circuiting. you want to consider his words, but you draw up a complete blank; it’s hard to think clearly when he’s this close to you, and when he’s so uncharacteristically serious. his gaze looks like it’s trying to tell you something, quite fiercely and forcefully, but what it is, you can’t properly decipher.
“um,” is all you can say after a sticky pause. “s… orry?”
he exhales in an inexplicably tired way, shaking his head. “look — if you wanna go, we’ll go. if you don’t want to, we won’t. and for the record, i don’t want to deal with a date i don’t really care about. that’s all there is to it. okay?”
you nod dumbly. he takes a moment to search your face for any sign of further response before he straightens up, leaving you with another hair ruffle. you could swear that he murmurs ‘good girl,’ under his breath while he does it, but you’re so out of sorts that he’s gone before you can bring it up and question it.
at the end of the day, you spend your last homecoming as you’d spent all others: with ajax, sitting criss cross applesauce on your couch, a bowl-sized pack of wild berry skittles tucked between his thighs. he’s spent more minutes of shutter island fishing around for his favorite flavor (grape) than actually watching for some reason, so you don’t feel too bad interrupting his concentration with an out of the blue question.
“think it’s going well over there?”
“over where?” comes his immediate response as he separates the different colored candies from the purple ones, letting them fall back into the pack with those hard shell tic-tic-tics.
“at the homecoming dance.” you lower the volume of the television because mark ruffalo’s yelling at leonardo di caprio over the sound of some kind of hurricane, and it’s a little grating. “think it’s… i don’t know. fun?”
“can’t be more fun than watching two guys trying to get to the bottom of some mystery at an asylum,” he shrugs before looking up at you. it’s only then that he notices you’re chewing your lip, and he pops the handful of grape skittles into his mouth before moving the whole pack to the floor. “what’s going on? are you having second thoughts?”
“no, it’s just — i don’t know. now that i’m thinking about it, it is our last year, so it kind of seems silly to be missing out on it.” you also want to say that you hate that you kind of ruined this for him, but you don’t want him to resent you even more than he probably already does.
“we can still go. i’ve got my learner’s permit, so if your parents don’t mind a couple of dings on their car…”
you snort, although the sound is pretty half-hearted. “like i’ll be able to get a dress at this time of night, anyway.”
“that’s what your worried about?” he has the gall to sound thoroughly amused. “just pick any old dress you’ve got upstairs. it’ll be fine.”
“right, because i’d blend right in with my just finished sunday service glam look.”
“you could show up in a potato sack; no one would care.”
“cool, let me just bust out my snazziest potato sack,” you say wryly, and he chuckles.
“that didn’t come out right. i meant that you could wear something plain, and you’d still be a smokeshow. plus,” he thumps his chest with an air of pride. “you’ll be walking in with me. i guarantee heads will turn. everyone’ll be so jealous, and you’ll instantly win homecoming queen.”
“forget it,” you half-groan, half-laugh, because now you’re picturing yourself walking into the school gym with your arm looped around ajax’s, and it somehow doesn’t feel like the most horrible thing in the world. “my thoughts were just going haywire for a second there.”
you make to turn the volume up again, but ajax grabs the remote, stuffing it behind a cushion on the far end of the couch. “hey, i was just kidding. what does it matter, anyway? i thought you were kind of averse to all that pomp and drama.”
“i mean, it’s not like i hate it; i just felt like it was so much work with so little pay off. but then — i don’t know. i was thinking about it, and i feel like there’s just stuff that happens there that makes the experience unique in its own way.”
ajax doesn’t even bother to hide his bemusement; he actually comically scratches his head before asking, “what kind of stuff?”
“dunno. dancing to old hits? drinking shitty punch? people fighting over the dates they wanted, making out behind the bleachers and getting caught by a teacher — that quintessential high school experience, i guess. but like i said, it’s no big deal.” you wave it off. “hand me the remote, would you?”
“you want to dance? we can dance.”
you watch him unfurl his limbs and stand, adjusting the waistband of his jeans. “i don’t mean here. i mean like the kind of experience that you only get by being there.”
“what’s the difference? close a couple of the lights, put on that dancey whitney houston song, and it’ll be basically the same thing.” his tone is light, but his grin is mischeivous, his hands wrapping around your wrists and urging you up with him. “or do you wanna line it up with the actual hour? around this time, they play ballads from the eighties and the parent alums slow dance.”
he doesn’t even give you the option to say no; his arms are already around your waist, dragging you closer to his torso.
“can we just forget i brought anything up and watch the movie?” you mumble, although you still let him maneuver your arms so that they’re hanging (a little limply) off his shoulders. “seriously, ajax…”
the rest of your protests, weak as they already were, die in your throat as he starts to sway the both of you. it’s all just awkward movement, graceless and with no sense of musicality, given that the background noise is just the muffled argument between leonardo di caprio’s character and some half-naked guy in a dingy jail cell. you’re pretty sure some important plot point’s being revealed here, but you’re distracted by the fact that ajax is so close to you, and he seems to be intently looking at your face, as if he’s hellbent on making this as realistic a homecoming experience for you as possible.
as the seconds tick by, you think you should be checking out or pulling away, but for some reason, you’re doing neither. you settle for staring at your feet as your weight shifts in time with his lead, and now you’re starting to realize how nice ajax always smells and how warm he is.
“hey, look at me.”
you comply before you can question it, and you regret it almost immediately. ajax’s face is so close to yours, and the deep blue of his eyes seem to be robbing you of both breath and speech. luckily, if he notices you’re acting skittish, he doesn’t make it known; he just smiles, weirdly tender and encouraging.
“you know it doesn’t matter if we’re at school or not, right? what matters is that you have these kinds of experiences at the right time, with the right people.”
“the right people, meaning you?”
“i mean, would you rather dance like this with — i don’t know, a snot-nosed junior that just wants to get in your pants for the night?”
it lasts for only a second, so you must have imagined it, but you could honestly swear that ajax’s hold on your waist tightens as he says that line. he makes it sound like a lighthearted joke, but something in his gaze seems to prompt you to actually respond.
“i guess not.”
he hums, seemingly satisfied with that answer. a few more beats pass with the both of you just swaying in the confines of some invisible square on your living room carpet. then, “what else was on your list?”
“huh?”
“dancing, and drinking punch, and — oh,” he grins, all lopsided and annoyingly attractive. “should we make out?”
“come off it,” you grumble, stopping your movement. neither of you step away, though; somehow, this position feels weirdly comfortable.
“i’m being serious.” his punctuating laugh is airy and low. “what — are you going to end your whole high school life without kissing someone?”
“that’s not — i haven’t — what do you…” you splutter, and his smile grows annoyingly wider. “that’s none of your business!”
“don’t be ashamed,” he chides. “i think it’s really cute that you haven’t had your first kiss.”
“as if you have!”
“of course i have. i’m not lying,” he adds in a matter-of-factly voice, just as you open your mouth to bite back. “i had it in middle school. she transferred out the year after. now, whether it was good or not is a totally different matter, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”
you hate that this information makes you feel inexplicably small. it really shouldn’t matter; it’s not like the marker for a successful high school life is how many people you’ve kissed (or if you’ve kissed anyone at all), but knowing that even ajax, who’s never seemed to entertain girls for as long as you’ve known him in high school, has already experienced what you haven’t — it makes you feel like an incomplete person, somehow.
he seems to take your silence as consideration, so he adds, “it’s not a big deal. people kiss all the time, and it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. besides, that’s kind of the point of having a best friend. you can think of it as a… trial run, or something. better me than that hypothetical snot-faced junior, right?”
it’s not even that ajax is a terrible choice for this. by all accounts, he actually seems like a perfect candidate: attractive, experienced (relatively, in comparison to you, at least), and, most important, trustworthy. he can’t be getting anything out of it, you think; he’s just doing it to be a genuinely good friend that doesn’t want you to go into college without a first kiss under your belt.
your slow nod’s almost imperceptible, but he catches it anyway. in one smooth swoop, ajax captures your lips, and you’re immediately assaulted by the sugary sweetness of the candy he’d just had. he tastes like artificial grape and that purple total care listerine he’d used in your guest bathroom before you’d settled down for the movie, and by all accounts, it’s not a bad mixture of flavors. at least it isn’t remnants of, like, roasted garlic and oil pasta and diet coke, or whatever else was on the proposed menu for homecoming.
with how gung-ho ajax is about practically everything in his life, you expect his kissing to be the same. you anticipate messy enthusiasm and a lot of tongue, teeth clashing and a lot of mistakes. but he’s so careful — so unbelievably slow and tender that you wonder if he’s just been lying to you about his personality this whole time. he takes his time letting your lips fit and melt together, doesn’t push for you to give more than you feel like offering at the moment. it’s when you exhale that a little bit of the fire in him seems to ignite, his tongue coming out to trace the parted seam of your lips, but he doesn’t go any further than that — like he’s a little worried, like he’s holding himself back. your slightly muddled mind can’t seem to decide what to focus on: the feeling of his lips against yours, or his hold on your waist, tightening and squeezing like he’s stopping himself from pulling you flush against him.
a dull thud from upstairs has you both jumping apart; you stare, flushed and wide-eyed, at him as a few more noises that follow remind you that your parents are home. they don’t come down, though, and soon it’s quiet again, but the weird atmosphere that had hung around while you were lip-locked has already been fully shattered.
ajax’s smile is a little sheepish as he speaks. “i mean, if we’re talking about people catching us…”
“i would’ve flung myself off the roof if they had,” you mutter, flopping back down onto the couch. you ignore the fact that your face is hot and that your lips feel all tingly. “enough about this homecoming business. can we please get back to the movie?”
you only catch a glimpse of leonardo di caprio before ajax’s tall form blocks your view. he leans in, arms outstretched and resting against the back of the couch you’re on, caging you in.
“no positive reviews? you’re being pretty cruel. are we even friends?”
“i don’t have any other experiences to compare it to, so what kind of feedback do you want?” you don’t want to explain that the kiss had left you feeling so flustered either, so there’s that.
“fair enough. anyway, i kind of like that that’s true,” he hums. his hand brushes your hair back, and he chances another light kiss against your forehead that you make a noise of protest against (that he pointedly ignores). “happy homecoming, angel.”
for the first semester at university, you’re required to live on campus. snezhnograd’s freshman dormitory is pretty nice, all things considered, and you like that you don’t have to wake up at ass o’clock to take the train to class. your roommate, lumine, is a tourism major who either knows everyone on campus or just had everyone in her graduating class attend snezhnograd at the same time for some reason, which means that she’s extroverted and eager to talk. you like that she’s also extremely generous with the food she makes — and that her cooking’s superb, too — so in all, you can’t complain about your set-up.
you can’t say the same for ajax, though. he’s rooming with a theology major named scaramouche, who’s apparently as pompous and as headache-inducing as his name and future degree suggest. he regularly texts after his afternoon classes end, bemoaning having to go back to their ‘stuffy dorm room’ where he’ll once again be ‘met with a barrage of facts about the history of religious thought’ because scaramouche, apparently, likes to study by using the conversation method, despite the fact that ajax has told him repeatedly that it bothers him that scaramouche uses a ‘condescending teacher voice’ when he goes about it. in fact, based on reports from ajax’s (admittedly biased) side, scaramouche doubles down whenever ajax complains and sometimes goes ‘pop quiz, everyone!’ just to piss him off.
most of your late afternoons and early evenings are therefore spent in the common areas in the dormitory building. somehow, ajax always manages to nab a sitting space with a free television (that, or he wheedles people into giving up their seats) so that he can put on hbo max on the off chance that he’ll catch a house of the dragon episode. he doesn’t even seem to like it for the story; he seems more interested in watching british people be snippy at each other in old english.
“i was thinking,” he starts, after checking hbo and seeing that it’s just heretic playing. “after first semester, we’ll have to live off-campus. do you have any plans for that?”
“not really.” however, now that he’s brought it up, you probably should start thinking about it; the semester’s more than halfway through, and it won’t be easy to find nearby housing unless you’re willing to sell your body and soul to a demonic landlord for it. “why? do you?”
“i was looking into a few apartments near campus, and a lot of them seem okay, but they’re a bit pricey if it’s just me renting, especially since most of them are two-bedroom setups.”
“sure you don’t want scaramouche’s name on the long-term lease with you?” you joke, and he throws you a wry look.
“funny. i was thinking — did you wanna check it out? you know, be roommates, and all that?”
you consider it; you don’t know much about ajax’s day to day living habits, but he seems to take care of himself pretty well. from what you’ve seen, he can cook, and he keeps his desk and room relatively clean. you don’t even know if that’s such a big point, given that you’ll have your own separate spaces anyway, and you can’t see him outright refusing you if you wanted to split chores.
“i’d probably have to ask my parents, but that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” you admit. “it might also depend on the rent and utilities cost, though.”
“would it incentivize you if we split it unevenly? we could go seventy-thirty. i wouldn’t mind at all.”
“why would we do that?” you throw him a bemused look. “fifty-fifty’s fine. just as long as it isn’t an overpriced loft or something, it should be okay, right?”
“no, they’re all just standard places. of course, it would be cheaper if we got a one-bedroom.”
“i’m not sleeping on the couch.”
“who said you had to?” you swear you see the ghost of a smirk flit across his face before it’s gone, back into that half-bored expression he’s had all afternoon. “there’d be room for a big bed.”
“ha ha. show me the apartments you were viewing, then. the two-bedroom ones,” you add firmly. he just shrugs and unlocks his phone obediently.
you spend the rest of the early evening scanning through potential listings and weighing out their pros and cons. it’s nice that ajax seems to be fairly agreeable to the options you like, with practically no pushback on his part. then again, you figure it’s just because he’s not a fussy person when it comes to these things. the conversation stretches even until dinner, where you’re discussing potential house rules, should the situation come to fruition, while ajax fiddles with the tabletop burner between you.
“honestly, if we’re trying to be practical, it’d make the most sense for us to have, like, a joint account for shared expenses.” you dip your chopsticks into the hot pot broth, giving the collagen soup a stir. there’s an obscene amount of thinly sliced meats stewing in there, courtesy of ajax’s argument that he’s ‘constantly growing.’ “it’d save us the hassle of doing math every time we have to go to the grocery or, like, go out for dinner, or something.”
“say less,” he chuckles. “this is all feeling very domestic. not that that’s a complaint, mind you.”
“i’m just trying to think about things that’d make our lives easier.” you tap your chopsticks over the rim of the container. “another thing too — if you’re going to bring a girl over, can you at least give me a heads up so that i can make plans or something like that?”
for some reason, he looks genuinely shocked. “what do you mean, bring a girl over?”
“i mean, we’re in college now,” you shrug. “you’re probably going to have a girlfriend or at least hook up with someone, right?”
the silence that falls over him is unnerving. it doesn’t seem like he’s given that any thought, which makes no sense to you. it’s not like there’s a shortage of cute girls for him to look at; in fact, at the dorm alone, he’s been stopped by multiple freshmen bold enough to ask for his number. you always have to walk ahead when this happens, so you just naturally assume he gives them his contact info before he catches up with you. and while it probably won’t happen this semester, given the dormitory’s strict rules, once he has a place of his own (sort of), he’ll be a liberty to bring home any one of them — or all of them, if he’s that kind of adventurous (honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him).
“are you planning on bringing guys home, too?” his question is laced with curiosity, as expected, but there’s also a hint of accusation, like he can’t decide if you’re trying to set up a double standard or something.
“i don’t have any immediate plans,” you reply honestly. “but i can’t guarantee it one way or another. if it happens, you’ll obviously be the first to know.”
he hums this low, thoughtful noise and starts picking the meat out of the broth. it’s a herculean task for him, it seems, because he’s never been comfortable using chopsticks. after a minute’s struggle, he gives up and starts using a fork. you notice that despite the fact that he’d ordered the meats for himself, he gives you a larger share of it onto your bowl before passing it to you.
“now that i’m thinking about it, i think i’d prefer if you didn’t bring anyone home.”
“oh.” you pause in the act of dipping your sliced meat into the peanut sauce, letting it soak in. “i mean, that’s fair.”
“i just think that space should just be our own, you know?”
“sure, i get that. but things happen, and sometimes you can’t predict how plans will go, so i’m just making sure we’ve got all our bases covered.” you crack a smile that somehow feels like it’s meant to be reconciliatory. “it’s not like you’d want me raiding the fridge while you’re at third base with your girl on the couch, right?”
“not going to happen,” he says flatly. “so don’t worry about it.”
“you say that now, ajax, but you’ll never know wh—”
“not,” he repeats, a dull fierceness in his gaze. “going to happen. trust me on this.”
you watch him shovel like four pieces of meat in a saucy, dripping wad into his mouth in one go, feeling perplexed. vaguely, you register that he’d dunked all that in chili oil, and it’s a miracle he isn’t hacking up a lung right now. “okay. i respect that.”
“so you won’t bring any guys over to our place either, right?”
“not if it makes you uncomfortable, i guess.”
“it makes me super uncomfortable,” he echoes quickly, like he’s eager to get the point across. you shrug in your concession, and though you hadn’t noticed him tense up, something in his posture relaxes. “cool. i’m glad we worked that particular kink out.”
you’re not sure you could even classify it as ‘being worked out,’ but you let him have it; since ajax had already been so docile earlier in the evening when you’d looked at options and started setting some potential ground rules, you think it’d be better to simply give him this.
you just make a silent promise that you’ll get out of his way once he inevitably goes back on his statement.
it’s almost a no-effort task to get your parents to agree to the set-up; they like and trust ajax, and they enjoy the fact that you won’t need to use a car for the rest of your university life even better, given that the apartment you all settle on is walking distance from campus. ajax puts his sports-honed muscles to work on moving day, carrying a lot of the semi-heavies and jokingly insisting that you just ‘sit on the couch the movers brought up so that it kinda looks like there’s already decor in the living room.’ he somehow has enough energy after the whole move to help you screw in your six-tier ikea bookshelf and cook an extremely flavorful pesto and spinach mac and cheese, at which point you realize you’re basically dead weight in this apartment, like a puppy that’s just waiting for its kibble and belly rubs.
you tell yourself that you’ll make up for it in chores, but ajax must have been a robot butler in his past life with the way he keeps things orderly, both in common spaces and in his room. the only thing you have to worry about is your personal mess, which you try to keep minimal and contained to your room at first — but then you realize that even if you wanted to do that, you couldn’t, because ajax spends almost as much time in your room as he does in his.
in the first few weeks of living together, he’d stick to knocking on your door before poking his head in through a crack to wake you up, letting the scent of whatever he’d made for breakfast waft in to arouse your senses. but as time passes and the semester wears on, he seems to abandon that tactic. more than once, your eyes have fluttered open only to widen in shock as you focus on the sight of him, settled on your bed with a small smile. you don’t even know if you sleep so deeply that his presence just doesn’t disturb you, or if he’s just that good at slipping in quietly. whenever you grumble a ‘what are you doing,’ he just ignores you and says ‘finally awake, sunshine?’
after dinner, he always follows you into your room, taking up a space on the bed he pretty much designates as his spot. you don’t usually mind it, given that what usually follows is a nice, long chat about everything and nothing all at once, or sometimes a card game (you’re both shit at poker, and you barely know how to play it besides, but it’s still fun trying to outbid each other), or a few episodes of whatever anime you’d heard was trendy these days, just to try. you just wonder if he’s doing this because he thinks it’s what roommates are supposed to do together or if it’s because he just has nothing better to do on his own.
“you’re on your phone an awful lot these days,” he throws at you casually, not even tearing his eyes away from the television. you don’t even know how he’s noticed; he’d seemed pretty engrossed in the show ever since the pink-haired kid had eaten the gross old finger. “gojo satoru not doing it for you, or is it a school thing?”
“sorry.” you put your phone face down on your stomach. “not important. just… something mualani — you remember her? from my globalization in teyvat class?”
“white hair? marine sciences major who ate all our fried shrimp beanballs? yeah, i remember her.”
“yeah. she — um, just introduced me to this app. i was just trying it out for shits and giggles.”
“what app?”
you pause for an embarrassing beat, though why you should feel any modicum of shame is beyond you. you’re an adult, and you can make adult choices, and ajax is also an adult who’d understand that naturally. still, your face is warm and pink when you mumble out, “tinder.”
you expect him to laugh at you or poke fun, but what comes next is veritably worse in the end: just this pointed silence that makes you feel like he’s actively judging you, either for being desperate enough to try tinder or being so out of touch that you’re only trying it now, at someone else’s recommendation.
“oh.” he doesn’t take his eyes off the television, but something about his tone makes you feel like he’s not really paying attention anymore. “meet anyone interesting?”
“to be fair, i swiped left on a lot of people.” not that he needs the useless preamble. “but… yeah, i’m… tomorrow. i’m going out with someone.”
“for?”
“just dinner downtown.”
“what’s his name?”
“albedo. he’s — he seems like a really nice guy. smart — he’s an engineering student from dragonspine university — and he’s really easy to talk to. and he’s… cute, i guess.” you don’t know why saying all this feels like pulling your own teeth out. the fact that ajax seems to be asking so seriously is making things worse, for some reason. you almost want to ask him if he knows anything about albedo, like if he’s some kind of serial killer you just haven’t heard about.
ajax mutes the television and leans his head back on your headboard, exhaling slowly. “so you’re not coming home tomorrow?”
“i mean — i didn’t think that far ahead,” you admit. “i just thought we’d have a normal date and… i don’t think that’d mean anything’s expected or required after.”
“you met him on tinder.” ajax’s laugh is weirdly humorless. “of course he’s going to expect you to come over after.”
“that’s not…” your voice trails off into nothingness when you realize how stupidly naive you sound. you are an adult, which means that adult things can and would happen to you. the memory of mualani saying she’d met a seemingly nonchalant gamer guy on tinder who’d actually rocked her world for a whole weekend surfaces, and you squeeze your eyes shut for a second. “okay, maybe. so?”
“so nothing. isn’t that what you wanted? why did you sound so surprised?”
“i wasn’t — it just wasn’t the first thing on my mind. some people go on dates just to go on them, you know.”
your phone trills, and because your curiosity wins out, you flip over your phone. you’re sure ajax can also see the message preview from albedo asking you if meeting at this restaurant near his place would be okay, even if you dim the lock screen quickly.
“sure they do,” he shrugs. “just not this albedo guy from tinder.”
you feel kind of stupid for not thinking about that; it’s not as if your messages had been overtly flirty, but it also makes a ridiculous amount of sense that, in this day and age, a first date from an online dating app would lead to some kind of intimacy.
and now you kind of feel in over your head, owing to the fact that you’ve never been remotely intimate with anyone else. it just hasn’t been high on your priority list as of yet, and while you could imagine yourself being okay with it now, you feel like, for a first time, you’d need some kind of emotional preparation you’re clearly not going to have, especially not with a virtual stranger (that you’ve talked to for about a week, sure, but still someone you’ve never personally laid eyes on).
“you okay?” ajax asks after you don’t end up saying anything to continue the conversation.
“yeah. it’s fine. i just…”
“didn’t think your first time would be with some guy you’ve never met named albedo?”
you groan. you’re not even sure if that’s going to be an experience you’ll want to remember, and maybe that shouldn’t matter in the modern world, but if all you’re going to take away from it is that you were awkward and self-conscious with some guy you’ve only spoken to a handful of times, you’d rather cancel the date. except common courtesy dictates that you really shouldn’t, and you don’t want to have to explain to albedo why you can’t go, or worse, lie about it, and also, you are a goddamn adult who shouldn’t be so worked up about something so trivial.
“i get it. what if he’s small? or worse, he sucks? totally valid reason to cancel a date, by the way,” ajax continues, and you definitely catch a bit of a smirk on his face before he smooths it out.
“that’s not what i’m worried about,” you say dryly.
“if you’re worried about anything, you should cancel the date.”
“it’s not like that; it’s just complicated for me. and it’s just — maybe if i had some time, or some advice beforehand—”
“or some experience,” he adds helpfully.
“yeah, or that. then it wouldn’t feel weird or like, i don’t know — daunting, i guess.”
“so get some.”
“time?” you can’t help but roll your eyes at how stupid it sounds. “or are you planning on giving me advice?”
“no, experience.”
“even more absurd.”
“okay then,” he shrugs, turning the television off and hauling himself off your bed. “then i wish you all the best of luck with your first date with albedo from dragonspine university, who probably has a small dick.”
you watch him gather his things — his hoodie that he’d been using to elevate his head, his phone, and the unopened pack of sweet corn chips he’d brought in to munch on — with this growing sense of despair. at the same time that what he’s saying sinks into you, you start telling yourself that you really shouldn’t consider it. it’s wrong on so many levels, with special emphasis on the fact that you both live together and will have to see each other every damn day, and also he’s your best friend, and you’re pretty sure there’s some truth out there about how friendships never survive these kinds of things.
but you have also kissed him, and ajax has never blabbed about it or even brought it up in any way that would jeopardize your friendship. in fact, if you’re trying to be really stupid about it, he’d been your first kiss, so it kind of comes full circle that he’d also be your first…
“ajax,” you squeak out before he can open the door to your room.
“my advice for you — and this is for free — is that if he tries to get you to dress up, or, worse, if he tries to dress himself up, you shou—”
“look, forget about that.” your throat feels exceptionally dry as you swallow. “um.”
he turns back to you, and suddenly you can’t bear to meet his eyes. in fact, you kind of feel like throwing up, so you just get all your words out in a flustered hurry.
“the experience you were saying — it won’t be weird if we just, um, if we just practiced, right?”
“practiced? what, like just the tip?” he seems to take pity on you when your pleading eyes shoot back to him, but he still looks vaguely amused. “weird though — nah. not at all. we’re closer than that, aren’t we?”
you are close. you’re close, and you’re both adults, and this is ajax — trustworthy, dependable ajax who always looks out for you and has been with you through thick and thin. this is going to be fine.
“yeah,” you breathe out, more to yourself than to him. “it’ll be okay.”
his smile’s reassuring as he sets one knee onto the mattress, beckoning you to come closer to the edge. you hesitate for a moment, then steel yourself with the thought that you technically started this, and that you have to see it through, and then you start inching closer to him, one jerky and minute movement at a time.
not that it matters, considering that at the next second, ajax has your ankles in a tight grip and tugs you towards him in one quick motion. you yelp, feeling the drag of the blanket on your back.
“what the hell!” despite your indignation, your voice is choked and small, greatly weakening the overall impact of your words.
“if i let you set this pace, it’s going to take us until sunrise before anything good happens.” his hand reaches up to cup your chin, angling your face towards him. like this, you can’t do anything but stare at him. “so just trust me and follow along, okay?”
you scan ajax’s features one at a time — his eyes, his nose, his lips, the shape of his face. maybe it’s just the situation that you’re in, but it feels like you’re seeing him for the first time. it isn’t the composition of all those things that makes it feel so foreign, exactly, but the way they are now — the way they make an expression that you feel like you’ve never seen on him before tonight.
he looks… hungry, you realize, like someone who’s been starving for days on end. his lips are slightly parted, looking like they’re ready to say something, but all that comes out at first are deep breaths that seem desperate to appear even. is he worried about something? does doing this actually affect him negatively?
you touch his wrist lightly. “hey, um — if you don’t actually want to do this, we don’t ha—”
“no way.” his response is sharp and immediate. “we’re doing this.”
“you just seem— i don’t know…”
“don’t worry about me. i’ve been more than ready.”
before you can even ask what that’s supposed to mean, he closes the gap between you two. it hadn’t been that long ago since you’d kissed him, but you only now learn that whatever it was that had happened back on homecoming night was not a real kiss — not in the way that really mattered. ajax’s lips move over yours in a more insistent frenzy that you can’t help but get swept up in; his mouth is still just as warm and as soft as back then, but the kiss he presses against you now is infinitely more sure, more demanding. you react without thinking, letting his tongue slip past your teeth easily, and you taste him much more sharply now too.
he coaxes your tongue into a sloppy dance that you think you’d be embarrassed about if you had even a modicum of the wherewithal for rational thought, but all that you can think of is how good and wet and right it feels. a groan passes between the two of you, though you can’t really decipher the source, and ajax’s weight bears down on you until you’re lying back onto the bed, his lips still hot and eager, locked on yours.
when you start to feel a little lightheaded, you tap his shoulder, and you’re sure the noise that comes after is from him this time — a grumble of dissatisfaction as he pulls away, allowing you room to breathe. “what is it? s’not good?”
“no, i just—” you don’t even know what to say, so you blurt out the first thing on your mind. “did you kiss her like that?”
“what? who?”
“that girl from middle school that you said—”
“let’s not fucking talk about her right now,” he mumbles, pressing another quick and firm kiss to your half-open mouth, followed by another, and then another, until you’re breathing hard again.
“i just—” your voice dies in your throat as ajax leans down, burying his face into the crook of your neck. you feel his lips there — warm, open-mouthed kisses followed by the graze of his teeth against your skin, the dig of them as he nips into you. your head lolls to the side, and he makes a pleased little sound at being granted more access, doubling down on his efforts. you think he finds a particular spot he likes, just above your collarbone, because his mouth lingers there, sucking dutifully on the inch or two of skin for what seems like a day and an age (in which time your mind grows a little hazier, your body a little more aroused) until he pulls away. he admires whatever mark he left there with the ghost of a satisfied smile.
“sorry.” even though he says that, he doesn’t look particularly apologetic. “think you might have to wear a turtleneck or something tomorrow.”
“what?” it dawns on you a second too late, and you flush, shoving at his shoulder weakly. “are you kidding me?”
“if you don’t want to, it’s fine. you could show it off — your first hickey.” his breath fans over the still tender spot as he leans back down, nosing at the mark. “actually, why don’t you?”
“you know i can’t do th—” you stifle a noise when his hands slip under your shirt, warm palms digging into your waist.
“hm? why not?”
“you damn well know why, ajax. it’d be rude to albedo.”
“right, of course,” he drawls out. his hands travel up your sides, dragging the hem of your shirt up with his wrists. you squirm minutely as he pushes the fabric up just under your chin, exposing your tits to the cold air. “albedo.”
you fling an arm over your eyes, suddenly feeling like you don’t want to see the exact moment ajax descends again, but you feel it anyway in all that darkness — the press of his mouth against your flesh, the way his tongue swipes out to flick your nipple playfully. it pebbles just at that, and you suddenly wish you could crawl in a hole and die when he hums appreciatively before offering it another light kiss.
“nice, smart, cute albedo,” he continues, and though his touches and kisses feel languid, there’s a slight hardness to his voice that has you shivering. “who’s going to fuck you tomorrow.”
you almost ask him what the hell he’s doing, but you get completely sidetracked by the feeling of his teeth digging into your nipple, and a yelp escapes you instead. your back lifts off the bed, and ajax uses that as an opportunity to slip his arm under you and around your waist. he keeps you half-arched, your chest pushed up, and sees that as a self-made invitation to attach his lips to your nipple, sucking firmly until you’re keening and weakly writhing in his hold.
the noises he makes are obscene, all happy and indulgent, and you wonder if he’s overacting just to piss you off, but it’s not like you can even ask; your own mouth’s too busy moaning anyway. at some point, your fingers had threaded into his hair, and now you’re tugging with all your strength’s worth. it just seems to fuel ajax all the more.
he sets you free when you hiccup a ‘wait, wait,’ gently easing you back down onto the bed. two fingers tap on the arm across your face, and you move it away, opening your eyes to the starry and all-too-vivid sight of ajax, straightened up, with his lips slick with his own saliva and reddened from effort, tugged down into a slight frown.
“you gonna let him see you like this?”
“i— he — what?”
“are you going to let him see you like this?” he repeats. his hand skims up the plane of your stomach, cupping the neglected breast and giving it a firm squeeze. his thumb drags over your nipple, once, twice, then settles flat on it, circling in slow, tortuous motions. “gonna show him your pretty body, all ready for him to take?”
“i don’t know, i—” you don’t know what answer to give him that will erase the slight hardness in his gaze. you don’t even understand where all these questions are from. “what does this even have to do with practice…?”
“practice. right,” he says stonily. “because you’re doing this for him.”
he rights his posture, standing at the edge of the bed and towering down over you. you don’t move, just watch him carefully as he reaches out, trailing his hands down the sides of your thighs.
“can you take off your shorts for me, angel?” he murmurs after a pause; his voice sounds strained, and you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. “panties too.”
you can barely hear the rustle of your clothing while you comply; your heart’s beating too loudly in your ears, your pulse throbbing in your temples. ajax helps you when your panties get caught around your ankle, and then you’re practically bare in front of him. he urges you to lie back again, but he’s got his hands around your calves that are pressed together, held aloft and giving you a false sense of decency.
it doesn’t last for too long, though. ajax eases your legs apart, and you can’t help the way your hands fly up to your hot cheeks as he gazes down at your exposed core. he looks at it with a concentration you’ve never seen on him — never in class, never in games. it’s like he’s intent on memorizing every inch of you.
“fuck,” he suddenly breathes out, startling you into a deeper shade of red. “fuck, baby.”
“what?” you squeak out, wishing he’d make eye contact or something so you could tell if he means that in a good or bad way.
“prettiest fucking pussy i’ve ever seen,” he hums, the volume of his voice strangely reverent.
“don’t — don’t say weird stuff like that, you assho— oh my god,” you whine, unable to keep any real heat in your voice as he swipes at your slit with a long finger.
“not weird. not kidding.” he drags the same finger down, easing your sticky folds apart and then coming away with an embarrassing amount of your slick on the digit. “holy shit. fuck, that’s pretty.”
you squeeze your eyes shut for another long moment, partly because you can’t look at him looking at you like that, but also partly because your whole body feels like it’s throbbing with arousal after just one stupid touch.
but they fly open when you feel ajax’s fingers again, this time fitting themselves right between your folds. it’s an imperfect measurement, his digits far too long, which means that the tips of them brush against your entrance.
“oh my god — what the fuck are you—” you squeal as he pulls his fingers apart, spreading your folds obscenely. “stop — stop messing around, jesus—”
you don’t even know if he’s agreeing to your request or not when he starts rubbing your folds, spreading your juices across the slightly puffy skin. it feels weirdly good, but also clearly not enough, and you soon realize it’s because you want something — want him — inside you.
he seems to read your mind, and in the next downward motion, his middle finger catches against your entrance, then curls inward. the tip of it teases at your hole, and you can actually feel the way you tighten around nothing, like you’re trying to suck him in but he’s just a few millimeters out of reach.
“pussy as pretty as this, and you’re just going to let some asshole look at it? touch it, just like this?” you’re not even sure if he’s talking to you or more to himself at this point. “no fucking way. not fucking happening.”
you cry out as he sinks a finger into you, up to the middle knuckle. it isn’t anything big, but it’s definitely a weird and unfamiliar feeling, having something inside you — but it somehow soothes the frustration in your chest. ajax’s gaze flickers up to your face now, watching the jaw-slackened expression that becomes more pronounced as he eases his finger further in, until it’s settled up to the knuckle.
“all these years — all this time that i did everything for you,” he continues, drinking in your little whimpers as he starts to pump his finger into you, slow and thorough. “and you were going to give your first to some jackass you’ve never even met before?”
emotions that you can’t fully decipher well up in your chest, a dizzy and patchy dawning at his words. ajax, who had always done everything for you. ajax, who had wanted every group project to be just the two of you. ajax, who was your first friend, your first kiss. ajax, who never wanted you to bring anyone home — who now refuses to tear his gaze from your face, like he’s willing an epiphany out of you.
“ajax,” you hiccup out, your hand reaching out to grip his wrist. “can — can we — can you slow down so — we can talk?”
“talk? sure, angel.” his finger presses up into the top of your walls, and you moan thinly. “let’s talk about why you shouldn’t go on that date with nice, smart, cute albedo tomorrow.”
a rough gasp rips out from your throat as he squeezes another finger into you, the stretch catching you off-guard; you tense, but ajax’s hand moves to press down lightly on your stomach, giving you this weird sense of groundedness.
“is it enough to say that he doesn’t know you well enough? that he doesn’t know you hate fancy, over-the-top restaurants like the one he was going to take you to, or that you’re always worried about the commute to downtown?” he’s speaking over your noises now, his fingers resuming their steady strokes — more deliberate now, digits dragging against your warm walls. his thumb stretches, dragging circles over your clit, and you’d be writhing at this point if not for the weight of his palm just under your navel. “or would it convince you if i said i don’t think he’d treat you right, the way you deserve? if i said he wouldn’t touch you right, fuck you right — would you cancel?”
“a—jax…” you choke out, tears welling in your eyes; the pleasure’s weird and tingly and so good, building up in your stomach and stretching to your fingertips and toes. “please, can we…?”
“if not any of that,” he murmurs, the movement of his fingers growing a little more forceful, a little heavier. you sob, squeezing at his wrist but making no real move to push him away; in fact, you’re pretty sure you’re keeping him there. “if i said the guy who deserves to see you like this should be me — only me — would you forget about him, angel?”
“som— something’s coming,” you whimper out, barely audible over the lewd noises his fingers make as they plunge into your warmth and wetness. “please, could you — s—slow down— just a little?”
“slow down? you pussy’s sucking me in so hard that i’m not even sure i can, baby.” the pressure ajax’s hand exerts on your stomach doubles, until you feel completely trapped under his hold. “s’okay. let it all out. don’t be scared; it just means i’m making you feel really good.”
a cry tears from your chest as he pumps his fingers in, rough and deep, and you feel your body lose control; in that moment, you tense, almost folding into yourself, and a rush of your juices sprays out of you, ajax coaxing it out for a little longer until you fall back onto the bed with a half-strangled moan. at least he has the decency to slow down after that, pulling his fingers out to rub your drenched folds like he’s offering some kind of weak consolation.
the ceiling above you starts to sharpen into focus as the tears that welled up out of pleasure drip down past your waterline. ajax’s fingers are stil busy, although the hand on your stomach has moved up again, fondling your breast with light, gentle squeezes.
you smack his arm, and he freezes, watching you sit up; it’s kind of comical, the fact that you’re still shaking a little post-orgasm, and he’s still making sure he’s got his hands on some part of you, despite the fact that you look a little miffed.
“are you fucking serious?”
“what? it’s totally normal to squirt. in fact, it’s actually really hot to me, personally…”
“not that! what were you even going on about this whole time? was there any other normal way you could’ve said what you said?”
“i thought the way i said it was pretty normal.” he shrugs. “why don’t you tell me when else i would’ve found the time and opportunity to tell you how i felt?”
“you didn’t have to be knuckle-deep inside me to do it!”
“agree to disagree. also, it can’t actually be my fault that you never knew. i’ve been clear about it from the beginning.”
you try to shake him off, but his grip on your waist’s like iron, and it results in a thirty-second struggle where you’re flailing your arms weakly and he’s trying to position himself comfortably in front of you. you stop, however, when ajax, now kneeling between your thighs, leans down, dropping his head onto your shoulder and giving the curve of it a light, almost imperceptible kiss.
“i’m sorry,” he says, sounding genuine this time. “i just… a part of me never wanted to tell you in case you hated me after it. if you said no… i don’t know what i’d do, to be honest.”
“i could never hate you,” you mumble, your cheeks a little flushed. you’ve never really had heart-to-heart talks with ajax before this, and you kind of feel like post-foreplay is an even weirder time to start, but you suppose you can’t blame him for the less than ideal timing.
“i thought i’d be okay, even if you never found out. if you did know, and you were just stringing me along… i’d let you, anyway. but then — god, if i think about someone else seeing you like this…”
you actually feel him shudder after, and your hand instinctively flies to the back of his head, threading into his hair.
“it fucking drives me crazy.” his voice is shaky, barely controlled. “i can’t. i can’t let anyone else have you.”
there’s a period of quiet where you can only hear ajax’s heavy breathing, and you sit there with your hands scritching against his scalp lightly, your own head fuzzy. you should probably be thinking over what he’d just said, and you sure as hell try to, but you draw a complete blank. maybe some tiny part of you had always thought there was a possibility that he viewed you as more than just a friend, but that small voice had been ultimately overwhelmed by a seemingly more rational one that insisted there was just no way.
“since…” you finally manage out, your words soft. “since when?”
“god, i don’t know. maybe i realized it some time in freshman year, but,” he lets out an amused exhale. “i’ve always liked you. since pre-school, even, which i know sounds stupid. ever since you did that show and tell with the glitter art kit your mom got you for christmas. then i thought i’d never see you again, and it killed me, which is crazy because it was a silly little kindergarten crush, and i really thought i’d forget about you, but you fucking came back. that first day you transferred in — god. i couldn’t believe you came back to me.”
you feel the minute turn of his head, and his lips are sealed against the crook of your neck. a warm puff of breath, and then another kiss, followed by another, firmer and sloppier, and another—
“ajax—”
“please,” he whispers, begs between searing kisses to your skin. his hands resume motion, skimming your sides and following the contour of them repeatedly; when they drag upward, his thumbs extend, grazing the underside of your breasts. “please.”
and you’re not even sure you know exactly what he’s asking for, but the almost broken way he asks makes you want to give it to him, whatever that may be. a light tug on his hair, and he’s lifting his face, meeting your eyes with a dazed sort of look.
you’re the one who initiates this kiss, soft and a little unsure, but ajax is quick to take the lead, fitting his mouth full against yours once you give him the in. his hands settle fully on your hips, giving them a firm squeeze and pulling you closer, until you’re flush against him. he licks his way into your mouth methodically, like he’s trying to make sure every tooth, every tastebud ends up tasting of him. and it does — the richness of him reaches the back of your throat, has you feeling dizzy and a little vulnerable.
you inhale sharply as he pulls away, cool air filling your lungs and your lips slick and swollen again, and even though there’s no reason for you to keep your mouth open, it stays that way anyway as ajax tugs his sweater over his head in a swift, clean motion, tossing it behind him carelessly. you’re face to face with his lean body, wired full with taut muscle, and now you actually feel like a hormonal teen perceiving the opposite sex for the first time. sure, you’ve seen glimpses of it when he runs from the bathroom to his bedroom after a shower or when he lifts the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his brow while he cooks, but having it on full display is a completely different story.
you clamp your jaw shut when he coughs, and your eyes snap up to his face, daring that slightly amused expression to say something. “what? i can’t look?”
“no, no, look. look as much as you want. please.” he grabs your hand, tugging it closer to his abdomen and letting the tips of your fingers graze the clear ridges there. “touch all you want too. you know this is all for you, right?”
“you don’t have to be weird about it,” you mumble, but the invitation is all you need. gently, your palm rests against his stomach, and you feel it sink in a little as he breathes in and shudders at your touch. you’ve probably just been turning a blind eye to it out of principle, but even objectively, you know that ajax is attractive; he has the face of a sweetheart and the body of a seasoned athlete, and now you can fully appreciate that fact. he watches you carefully, staying perfectly still, as you explore the planes of his torso little by little, dragging your fingers against smooth skin. you only stop at the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing your hand back — or you would have, anyway, if he hadn’t caught it first.
“you getting shy on me after touching me all sexy like that?”
“can you,” you hiss, trying to wrench your wrist out of his grip. “try to be normal about this?”
“you’re the one being abnormal,” he frowns, tugging your hand closer to his form again. the tips of your fingers brush against the drawstrings. “or are you planning on backing out?”
“no.” you can’t help but notice that it comes out way too quickly for your liking. “who’s backing out?”
he doesn’t say anything in response, save for a little huff of a laugh that tapers out into nothing when your fingers return to his waistband. now that you’re concentrating, you can see there’s a tent in the front of his sweats, and you’d rather die than make a comment about it, but it does seem sizable enough that it piques your curiosity. your fingers hook into the garter, and ajax shifts slightly closer as you tug down, the fabric getting caught in the anomaly for a split second before it stretches free and pools around his folded knees.
“i did that,” you mutter. “do the boxers yourself.”
if he finds your evident back and forth with your own confidence grating, he doesn’t let it show. in fact, he seems all too eager to comply, standing up to let his sweats drop to his ankles and wasting no time in letting his boxers join them, toeing them aside cleanly.
you don’t have any personal reference for what’s normal or what’s excessive, but you know for a fact you aren’t underwhelmed, to say the least. you try really hard not to, but it feels like you can’t stop yourself from gawking a little — how can you not when ajax is standing at the foot of your bed, fully hard and kind of… big? the worst part is that he doesn’t even look concerned about being so bare in front of you; he seems to be assessing your reaction instead, eyes intently focused on every change in your expression.
when you don’t say anything, he sighs. “i don’t expect you to overact or anything, but could you at least give me a sign that you’re still in the world of the living with me?”
“sorry.” your apology comes out high and reedy. “it’s just — you know this is my first time.”
“you know this is mine too, right?”
and it hadn’t dawned on you before, but now you feel completely stupid for not even considering that. ajax had seemed so sure of himself, and he’d brought you to climax once already, so it had been all to easy to assume he’d been experienced. but now that you think about it, there’s been little to no opportunity for him to have fucked anyone else, given that he’d spent most of his time with you.
and now you know why.
“right, sorry,” you breathe out. “could’ve fooled me, though. you don’t look nervous at all.”
“to be fair, i’m really not.” his lips quirk upward slightly. “i mean, no offense, but i’ve been waiting to get to this point with you for what feels like forever.”
“you didn’t have to — like, there were other girls you could’ve—”
“we really need to work on your listening skills.” leaning down, he cups your chin, thumb grazing your bottom lip before he leaves a suspiciously chaste kiss against it. “it’s you or no one.”
he presses a series of soft, light pecks against and around your mouth, and in the midst of all that, your posture untenses, with you slowly melting into his touch. when he straightens back up, you’re back in that now-familiar heady state of having your breath stolen just a little. his palm still stays, your chin resting on it, and you look up to meet the hunger in his gaze.
“tell me,” you whisper, and his eyebrows lift slightly, drinking in your every word. “how do i give myself to you, ajax?”
the exhale he lets out is broken and shaky, and for a moment, his grip on your chin tightens. strangely, it doesn’t feel dangerous or wrong; if anything, it causes you to focus on him just a little more. his thumb comes out again, this time tracing the shape of your half-open lips, following the rise and dip of your cupid’s bow before it stops at the corner.
“think you can use your mouth on me, angel? just for a little while. i just,” he breathes in deeply, like he’s trying to center himself. “just want to see what you’d look like. would you let me?”
you nod, and he smiles tightly, although not unpleasantly. gently releasing your chin, he steps back once, watching you shift yourself until you’re on your knees at the edge of the bed, sitting down on your calves. you’re basically at eye level with his cock now, and now that your focus is on it, you can’t help but feel a little intimidated at the sheer size of it.
“i don’t know how to — um,” you say lamely, tucking your hair behind your ear in some weak attempt to feel ready. “it might not… be good.”
“don’t even worry about that,” he replies, though his voice sounds a little choked. “trust me. just do… whatever feels right.”
you let out a soft ‘okay,’ and your hands come up, wrapping around the base of his shaft to angle him towards you a little more. you start a little when you hear a sharp intake of breath from him, but he quickly follows it up with “don’t freak. it’s fine, really.”
the tip of it glistens with a few beads, clear and viscous — precome, you realize, seeping out of the head. a light squeeze of his cock has a bit more dribbling out, and it strangely fascinates you. you wonder what it tastes like — what ajax tastes like when he’s turned on, how new it would feel on your tongue. without much forethought, you lean in, letting your tongue peek out to sweep the liquid away.
his reaction is instantaneous — a soft hiss, the tensing of his thighs. you can see his hands have formed fists at his sides, and his knuckles are white. when you look up at him, you see his jaw is tight, and his eyes are dark, heavy-lidded.
careful not to disrupt whatever state he’s in, you move in, pressing the flat of your tongue against the side of his cock. the taste of him here is different than his precome — less salty, much fainter. you drag your tongue slowly along his shaft, wondering if that’ll intensify the taste, but it doesn’t really work out that way, so once you get to the tip, you lap up the liquid again, humming as the odd flavor of it bursts in your senses. you like it best there, you decide, and you focus your tongue’s efforts on the head, enjoying the way his cock seems just as eager to release it with every swipe and circle.
you’re so focused on exploring that you don’t immediately notice that ajax isn’t quiet anymore. a particularly harsh “fuck” has you snapping out of it, and his hands sink into your hair, tugging your head back slightly in the process. you gaze up at him, tongue still partway out and dripping with his pre, and he looks back at you, half-crazed.
“shit. first time using your mouth, and you’re acting like this?”
“was it… not good?”
“fuck no. it felt amazing. makes me think you were born for this,” he breathes out. “listen — let me feel your mouth too, okay? open up for me just a little — atta girl…”
he groans out something incomprehensible as you let your jaw fall open to an approximation of his size. his hands replace yours at the base of his cock, steadying his shaft as he angles the tip towards your waiting mouth. with care you don’t expect from his tense posture, he slips the head past your lips, letting out a low noise as it settles against your teeth and tongue.
“fucking — god, look at you. are you kidding me?” his hands tighten in your hair, and you hum; his cock kicks a little in your mouth from the vibration alone. “this is even better than i’ve always imagined. you’ll let me move now, won’t you, baby?”
you nod, and he swears under his breath once again as his hips roll forward, a slow, smooth motion that pushes his cock another couple of inches into your mouth. you realize this is even better than licking at him; the taste of him completely fills your mouth, and the rush of his precum drips straight onto your tongue and down your throat. even his reaction is better; his gaze is wilder, more alert, and there’s a flush across his chest that makes you feel strangely proud to see. ajax takes his time, rolling forward at a languid pace that almost lulls you into a gentle stupor. you don’t even know why just this makes you feel good, but maybe it’s the sounds he’s making that make this all worth it.
“god, i knew your mouth would be this good. always dreamt about fucking it, and now i actually get to. you drive me crazy, you know that?” as if to make his point, he makes a particularly thorough roll of his hips, and just a little more of his shaft slips in, the tip now more than halfway across your tongue. “think you’ll be able to take it all?”
you shake your head meekly, and he chuckles.
“s’okay. we’ll take it slow. i’ve got all the time in the world to train that pretty throat of yours for my cock.”
you whimper, thighs pressing together; you’ve never heard him speak like this, and you can’t deny that it affects you a little too much. your eyelids flutter shut, and you focus instead on your other senses — the drag of his cock against the inside of your mouth, the low curses coming from ajax. you don’t know how long it lasts, but you can sense that growing throb against your tongue, becoming a little more insistent with each stroke. you think maybe, just maybe…
your eyes fly open as he draws back completely, your mouth empty all in one go. you breathe in a lungful of cold air before making a noise of protest. “why did you—?”
“i was ten seconds away from cumming,” he says breathily.
“so? did you… not want to?”
“not in your mouth.” when the look of confusion doesn’t leave your face, he laughs, though the way he smooths your hair back is so tender that you feel the weird urge to purr. “don’t get me wrong — it would’ve been hot, and i seriously thought about it. but i’m not going to bust a load like that when i haven’t even had a chance to fuck you properly.”
he swoops in for another firm kiss that catches you off guard, cradling your face as he guides you to lie back. you realize belatedly that ajax has a weird talent for being able to maneuver you without you really noticing — in the next moment, he has you in the same position as earlier, your legs spread to allow him the space to fit himself between them. only this time, his body’s just about as bare as yours, and you’re keenly aware of the way his cock brushes against your cunt as he inches in to close the gap between the two of you.
“you still feeling okay?” he asks when he breaks the kiss. you nod, and a smile quirks the corners of his lips upward. “good girl. let me have a look at you again, hm?”
your legs fall apart just a little more as he straightens up, like you’re offering the view of yourself to him; he takes it all in with an appreciative hum, and when he glances at your face for a split second, you notice his pupils are slightly blown. slick sounds fill the room as he strokes himself a few times, and you try desperately not to moan when he taps his cock against your folds, the shaft coming away with sticky lines of your juices.
you’re not as surreptitious as you think you are, though, because he says, “you don’t have to hold back on me, you know.”
“it’s fucking embarrassing,” you whine, although even that morphs into a mewl when he does the audacious thing of dragging his cock along your slit. “and you’re not helping.”
“oh, sorry.” something wicked creeps into his stupid little grin. “you saying you want me to stop?”
you’d rather die than have him stop now, but you don’t have to make that known to him. anyway, it doesn’t matter in the end; even if you want to say something, it dies in your throat the moment he pulls his hips back for another long grind against your folds — only this time, the tip catches against your entrance, and you flutter in desperation. your hips roll upward before you can even make sense of what you want, and ajax just looks pleased.
“yeah, i figured as much. was gonna see if you’d be willing to beg for it now, but you don’t even have to do that, do you?” his hands dig into the plush flesh of your waist, squeezing a little bit of the air out of your lungs. “pretty body’s telling me how bad you want it, loud and clear.”
you kind of wish he’d stop talking because it’s doing something to you, something like heat coursing through your veins and making you hypersensitive to even just the chill breeze from the air conditioning. but at the same time, there’s a large part of you that’s curious about what’s going on in his head; he seems infinitely more candid now than he’s ever been, and you wonder just how much of this is lining up with his fantasies.
another drag of his cock against your slit wrings a moan out of you, and your hand jerks out, nails digging into his chest. he doesn’t even flinch. “stop — stop teasing me already.”
his hips slow to a stop, and one hand leaves your waist, returning to wrap around his shaft. angling himself a little lower, he lines his tip up with your entrance, the soft curve of it bumping against the rim. his eyes flicker to you at the last second, and you’re ready to grab him by the ear for stopping again until he says, “it might hurt. you gotta tell me — you know, if it’s too much, or if you want me to stop. i’m serious.”
you nod, murmuring a quiet, ‘i will,’ but the deeper dig of your nails into his skin urges him forward.
tension locks your body as he pushes in slowly, the tip breaching your tightness. there’s an intense concentration on ajax’s face, his brow all furrowed, as he tries to battle the seemingly impossible fit. your walls ache at the drag, the stretch, and he’s barely in before he’s pushed out.
“shit,” he mumbles under his breath. “fucking tight.”
“m’sorry,” you whisper, mortified. “i didn’t mean to—”
“no, no — i didn’t mean it like that. just—” he exhales sharply, the thumb that’s still on your waist rubbing light circles. “it’s fucking hot. let me try again, okay? just relax for me.”
he waits for your assent before he resumes his efforts, and this time, you try not to work your body up to the point of rejecting him. it’s still a tight, uncoordinated endeavor, but he manages to slip in about halfway, at which point your body seems to at least be accepting that he’s there. it doesn’t hurt in the way you expect — there’s a slight discomfort, a dull soreness that gets easier to ignore as the seconds tick by. ajax stills like that for a while, and you realize he’s allowing you to get adjusted to his size before pressing on.
“how— uh, how is it?” he asks, his words a little thin and strained. “feel okay?”
“mhm,” you manage out, before realizing you’re not giving him much to work with. “doesn’t hurt much, i promise. you?”
“honestly?” he huffs out a laugh. “was really scared i’d fucking cum right then and there.”
you laugh, and the lingering tension in your form melts; you notice the same is true for him, and he even has the energy to look a little sheepish. “what was all that about fucking me properly then?”
“i’ll make good on it, trust me.” his hands return to your waist, pushing your shirt upward again to stop at your ribs.
“then don’t stop now,” you urge quietly.
he blows out a sharp breath before his grip’s tightening on your sides again, and he sinks further into you. your moans harmonize the moment he bottoms out, and you marvel at how strangely right it feels to have him in you, despite the fact that you feel so full you’re pretty sure he’s in your stomach, or something.
ajax isn’t all too composed, either; he’s breathing heavily like he’s trying to calm himself down, but the flush has spread from his chest to his neck and cheeks, making him look even more heated.
“you gonna cum?” you half-joke, although saying that out loud has you squeezing around him without warning, causing him to hiss.
“no way. no fucking way,” he says with a kind of resolution that seems almost baseless. “if i could just—”
he draws his hips a few inches back, inhales deeply, then pushes back in. the result is a low groan from him and a high, reedy mewl from you, the foreignness of something dragging against your insides feeling both odd and good. but maybe that sound is all he needs from you, because at the next moment, he’s setting a slow, steady pace, pumping into you smoothly.
the tightness is still there, but less pronounced, and the more he does it, the more the pleasure builds — a light tickle at your senses at first, but slowly growing into something more insistent. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to be able to tell if ajax is inexperienced, because it really doesn’t seem like it. the controlled movement, the perfect pressure against your insides — it seems like he’s doing everything in his power to keep himself in check and make you feel good. amid the slight haze of pleasure, you fixate on his face as a grounding point, noticing the tightness in his jaw, the slight frown on his lips.
“ajax, it’s okay,” you whisper, breaking him out of the focused trance he’d fallen into. “it doesn’t hurt. you can… you don’t have to hold back.”
“i can’t,” he murmurs, almost sounding mournful. “you don’t know how good it feels — how much i want to—”
“then do it,” you cut him off, both hands coming up to cup his face, keeping his gaze fixed on you. when he doesn’t respond, you add, “i want you to. please.”
you can almost hear the way the gears in his head click and whirr before they simply implode. with a soft growl, he buries his face into your shoulder, his teeth sinking into fabric against skin. he draws his hips back fully, then snaps them forward, burying himself back into you fully, and you squeal, your arms winding around his neck for some semblance of stability.
“that’s — that’s it,” you whimper, nails biting into the skin of his shoulder blades. “g—gave myself to you, remember? so just take as much as you want.”
“fuck— fuck,” he swears, muffled against your shirt. he does the same thing again, pulls almost all the way out before hitting home again, and again, and again, until you’re caught in a cycle of short gasps and cries. “don’t you dare say that without meaning it. gonna fuck this pussy until it’s all mine, understand?”
he probably feels you nod against the side of his head, which is good because you can’t seem to say anything coherent. his pace becomes rougher, the strokes more deliberate and forceful, and you feel yourself pressing deeper into the mattress, caught deliciously under his weight. at the angle, the depth he’s fucking into you, you’re pretty sure you can almost taste him on your tongue. or maybe it’s just that you’re enveloped in him, his scent across your skin, his warmth kissing every part of you.
“god, you feel amazing,” he babbles on, taking only a moment to let his tongue swipe out at your neck. “pussy’s taking me so well, like it was made for me. is that what you’ve been saving yourself for, huh? waited for me to take this pretty cunt all for myself?”
you can’t trust yourself to respond, so you let out a garbled hum that sounds suspiciously like his name. not that it phases him — if anything, it seems like it just adds fuel to the fire, his next thrust into you rattling you from head to toe.
“yeah, that’s right. you were made for me, angel. look at you — so fucking tight just for me. so. fucking. good,” he growls, the last three syllables a blueprint for his sharp thrusts.
your head’s fallen into a blurry haze, and you think it should be scary in any other instance, but with ajax here to ground you, it just feels right; you sink into it willingly, and you can’t even bring yourself to feel conscious about all the lewd noises you’re making. his voice is all you can hear, settling into your ears, into your bones.
“can’t pull out — your pussy’s gripping me so tight that i can’t. and i don’t fucking want to.” you whimper when you feel his teeth dig into your earlobe. “know what that means, baby? tell me. i wanna hear it from you.”
you really shouldn’t. it’d be reckless and risky, and you don’t have any countermeasures for it on hand. logic dictates that you muster up enough rationality to tell him you don’t want him to — except you kind of do, and with the way he’s practically rearranging your insides, you kind of want to give it to him too.
just this once, your irrational mind reasons with you. next time will be different.
and then you shiver with pleasure at the realization that you’re already planning a next time with ajax.
“cum inside me,” you whimper out. he swears softly before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the crook of your neck.
“one more, angel,” he pleads, sounding almost broken. “say it one more time.”
“want you to cum inside me,” you breathe out, tensing around him as you feel his hips grow rougher, more erratic, and your pleasure spikes suddenly. “fill me up — please, ajax?”
his pace stutters, freezes, then revives in a frenzy of quick, shallow thrusts, and warmth suddenly fills you. you know what it is, and you expect him to stop to ride out his high, but he continues to move, and you feel his cum slip deeper into you. it adds both a stickiness and a slipperiness to his movements that makes the friction exponentially more delicious, and you barely whine out something unintelligible before you’re coming undone for the second time tonight, your thighs closing in and pressing into his sides.
finally, he slows, tapering his strokes gradually, but though they become intermittent, they regain their thoroughness — like even in the wake of his climax, he’s still focused on pushing as much of his cum into you as he can before his exhaustion wins out.
and it does soon after, his hips stilling with one final thrust into you that has you keening softly. he doesn’t lift his head, seemingly content to just inhale your scent from against your shoulder. you stay like that for god knows how long, listening to each other’s breathing even out and soften. at one point, you squirm a little, just to check if everything’s still good below the waist, and you feel his cock kick weakly.
it’s the trill of your phone that breaks you out of your stupor. you mumble into ajax’s ear about giving you some room, but he makes a noise of dissent that has you rolling your eyes, so you just pat blindly around for your phone until your hand closes around it. it’s hard to manipulate your screen considering you’ve got a body lying on you that you have to work around, but you manage to open the tinder app to albedo’s messages — the one from earlier about the restaurant that you hadn’t replied to, and another one from just now, saying that he’d made a reservation.
“it’s albedo,” you say, growing amused when ajax grunts into your shirt. “he made a reservation.”
“yeah, well, i hope it’s for one.” he finally lifts his head, and you’re struck with the thought that he looks adorable with his hair flattened and falling into his eyes. “don’t tell me you’re still going?”
“oh, yeah, i totally still want to see him,” you say dryly, though the sarcasm doesn’t seem to sink into ajax; he frowns so deeply you have to smoothen out the lines on his forehead. “after i just let this other guy who confessed to me in the craziest way cum in me. can you be serious?”
“cancel the date,” he demands, and you want to laugh at how childish his tone is; a little bit of it slips out when he pouts. “i’m not kidding. tell him you have a boyfriend.”
you don’t go that far, but you do cancel on albedo, citing a sudden unavoidable event (not a total lie); ajax watches with hawk eyes as you draft the message and double checks that you sent it to him.
“do i though?” you ask after a thoughtful pause. ajax has already settled back down onto you, refusing to pull out and growing more and more like dead weight against your chest. “have a boyfriend, that is.”
he’s quiet for a while, and you might’ve thought he’d dozed off if not for the unevenness in his breathing.
“i mean, if you’ll have me.” you’ve never heard him sound unsure before, and it somehow softens you.
“you know, back when i was in pre-school, there was this kid i was friends with that didn’t want summer vacation to come. he said it was because he didn’t want to make any new friends, so i promised him we’d find a way to stay friends even after that. what was it that i said…?”
he chuckles softly. “i think you said we’d be together forever.”
“right,” you snap your fingers like you’ve had an epiphany. “i promised him we’d be together forever. so i guess i have to make good on that promise, right?”
“that’s a cute story and all, angel, but i still want to hear it in black and white.” you can feel the grin playing on his lips against your skin.
“why don’t you look me in the eye first?”
he lifts his head, and for a moment, you just drink in his features — the deep, blue eyes that have always watched you, the soft lips that waited years just to kiss you. your fingers trace the side of his face, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes as you murmur your answer.
AKA me getting pissed at the lack of husband!varka fics and taking things into my own hands
Please note that this is my first ever post!! I'd really appreciate any tips. It's really just a little experimenting; I'm open to making friends! ^^
wc: 588
Disclaimer: suggestive at the end. Its all just fluff tho
—
"Fuck."
His eyes dart from the sky to his opponent; estimating the time he has left while battling an annoyingly fierce mitachurl. The rest of the knights were busy with hillichurls, and Lohen was occupied by an abyss mage.
He'd returned from his expedition up north a couple months ago, welcomed by a grand festival and a sweet reunion with you, his adorable, demanding wife.
The night ended with you sprawled on top of him as he recounted his adventures; his encounter with the first of the Fatui harbingers, his experience bringing down the moon itself, and his time working with the legendary Honorary Knight. Your personal favorite, though, was when he got so drunk he forgot to ask the Pyro Archon for a duel.
Naturally, when someone finally reunites with a loved one, they do anything in their power to spend more time with them. You were no exception. The morning after he returned, you made him promise to come home as early as possible everyday. No visiting the tavern for a quick drink, taking battles lightly, or working overtime to finish up paperwork.
He sped up his attacks, swinging his claymores with full strength, effectively taking the mitachurl down. After taking down a few extra slimes, he hurriedly dismissed the squad, hopping onto his horse and riding back home.
Amber spotted him on his way back, cheerfully calling out and waving her arm, only to be addressed with a quick greeting as he brushed right past her.
More people tried to hit up a conversation with once he arrived at the city gates; Jean, pestering him about unfinished paperwork, Albedo, updating him on his latest experiment, and Durin, asking to confirm if he's really going to be a knight.
He didn't care for any of them. He slipped through them, making a beeline home, assuring everyone that their questions will be answered the following day.
Once inside, he noticed the way your eyes shot from the book in your lap to his, a glare sent piercing through him.
"Hi." He whispered, offering you a shy smile. Leaving his claymores by the door, he makes his way over to you, praying for mercy. You only grunt in response, raising an eyebrow.
"I know, I'm sorry."
"You promised." You finally snarl. That's good. It means forgiveness is still an option.
An arm snakes around your waist, his large body lifting you up, stealing your seat and settling you into his lap. He snatches the book away from you, tossing it onto the coffee table. You yelp, grumbling as you reach out for your book.
"Nope. You're not ignoring me." He smirks, flipping you around so you're straddling his lap, pressing soft kisses into the crook of your neck, hands tracing the outline of your body. "You broke your promise."
"I did." He reassures, looking up at you with pleading eyes, pressing your chest against his. "In my defense, it was an emergency. A pack of hillichurls setting up camp by the Whispering Woods. Can't have that, can we?"
"You could've asked someone else to deal with it." You know very well how important it is; but you couldn't care less. The Knights of Favonius have plenty of competent soldiers; all ready and dreaming of a direct order from the Grandmaster himself. His squadron is more than able to take down an entire group of abyss monsters, much less some measly hillichurls. He chuckles, hands drifting to your thighs.
Your friends drag you to Piramida, where the lightkeepers of Nod Krai set up a festival each year on halloween. You decide to test yourself in the 'haunted house' where a mysteriously good-looking lightkeeper seems to be helping out.
tags: fluff, romance/TEASING/tension, suggestive content, making out, touching/teasing, reader being a total scaredy cat in the beginning, Flins being oblivious about reader's crush, Flins being sneaky, Flins being a tease.
wc: 2.9k?
author's note: an early happy halloween and happy birthday to my graveyard daddy flins <3 since I'll be inactive for the week (i think)
Your friends were muttering about how they suddenly felt a rush along their spines the moment they locked eyes with the man. But you couldn’t seem to understand them at all.
When you looked at the fine gentleman cloaked in all black, you couldn’t help but admire him and his flickering bulb-like eyes – they reminded you of two glowing fireflies, flying amidst the darkness of the night. To you, he seemed like a safe haven, somewhere you could retreat to if you were to get into any trouble.
And you were sure you would.
It was the 31st of October, the night of Halloween, and your horror-obsessed friends had dragged you out to the festival in the Piramida. The light keepers seemed to have set it up in order to attract the attention of the townspeople, in hopes to redeem the land as safe, and secure – or so they say.
You didn’t understand it at all. If anything, you believed such an attraction would surely scare people off, but you digress when you're amidst the crowd that had gathered in front of the main attraction – the haunted house.
Usually, you would expect a cheap set up, a mere frame of a beach house at most. But the light keepers seemed to have utilised a real house. One that was larger than the typical residence you’d find in Nod Krai, in fact, it looked more like a mansion than anything. Of course, participants were required to adhere to the outlined track, but you had an inkling, that perhaps this was the residence the light keepers themselves utilised - there were certainly enough rooms for the whole of them.
Your friends' chattering is muffled as your eyes narrow in at the entrance, you felt nauseous. You hated every part of this, you only came along with your friends since they promised a feast afterwards. But right now, you weren’t sure if it was worth it. You feel a pair of eyes on you and you snap your gaze to it.
It’s that man.
He was a light keeper – you could tell by his clothes, his closed off demeanour, and most importantly, the little blue lamp settled in his grasp. He was stood at the entrance - he seemed to be in charge of letting people in.
As you look to him, he settles his gaze elsewhere – not in a rush that he’d been caught, but as a polite gesture to both acknowledge and apologise for staring. You fight back a blush before you’re nudged out of the moment by your friend.
As you near the entrance, anxiety settles throughout your being when the couple in front of you enter. You were next.
You’re all too nervous to even see how the light keeper has his concerned eyes staring deep into you, raking down to your chest that heaves up and down as you try to remain calm.
You learn the man’s name when someone calls out to him, Flins.
“Hello, madam. I heard footsteps astray, are you lost?”
You’re kneeled under one of the tables, seeking refuge from what felt like demons screaming above you only to open your eyes at the sound of your saviour.
Oh it’s Flins.
You feel incredibly joyous of the sight of the man, but your exterior does not show it one bit. In fact, you were already past the verge of tears when you were seperated from your friends and left to fend for yourself.
“I… I was following the track I swear!” you cry out softly, you swear you see Flins hold back a chuckle as he kneels down in front of you, his blue lamp lit in between the two of you.
He leans in closer, eyes fixed on you as if you were the only person that mattered to him now. He places the lamp on the wooden flooring before reaching out to wipe away at the tears collected in the corners of your eyes.
“I wasn’t accusing you of such. Be not afraid, you’re free from danger”
You’re awed at his words even though you know he’s only doing his job. You want to cry again, he’s being incredibly gentle. Why were your friends so suspicious of him? He seems otherworldly sweet, gentle, even.
“I’m sorry” you sob again, shakily taking his hand. Flins shakes his head, and holds onto you a little firmer as he helps you stand,
“No need for apologies, I believe you were led astray” he explains and you look to him with confusion.
“The ghosts, they are… most mischievous at times” he sighs, waving away at the air – you don’t understand what he was doing but, you felt yourself being able to breathe a little lighter, “they tend to prey on those they sense are fearful of them, rather than those who are not”
Your eyebrows raise and you swallow at the lump in your throat, “ghosts?”
Flins’ lips are twisted in an adorable manner, as he looks at you blankly for a moment, “ah, forgive me, I forget it’s not a common belief amongst many mortals”
Clearly, his words had only frightened you even more, and he almost feels a little pained seeing you shake like that. But it seems to allow you to bear no further embarrassment when clutching onto his arm. Flins can’t help but grow hot however, staring at you, dumbfounded at both the sight of you clinging onto his side, and the fact he was flushed from a such a simple touch.
He doesn’t believe anyone has gotten this close to him before… at least not in the last few centuries
But all too easily, you’re scared once more when one of his ghostly friends decides to play a final trick on you. One that leaves you falling limp on the ground in a matter of moments.
Flins glares at his ghostly friend who backs away immediately, but the harm has already been done. Flins scoops you up and into his arms, sighing at the sight of your face – it seems you were the most comfortable as you were right now, asleep, free from the stressors of the manor.
Such a pretty face – there’s no place for someone like this in here.
On the second occasion you come back, Flins looks at you as if he were lost, almost like a puppy of some sort. His eyes are pooling with such concern you feel like shrivelling away, “You bared such an uncomfortable experience last time, are you sure you’re okay with going in this time?”
On the third occasion you visit, Flins has a small smile quirking to his lips. This time, his eyes are a little more mischievous, “You come each year even without your friends… I must say, your courage is enchanting”. This time, you acknowledge him with a nod, flustered and yet determined to make it through the night by yourself.
On the fourth occasion you are all too familiar with everything. Fins is friendly with you, but he is a little more silent than usual. The number of the visitors coming to the event are at an all time low, and you know exactly why; this wasn’t an event at all, it was a ground for recruiting new lightkeepers.
The mansion you so dearly loved exploring was indeed the headquarters of the lightkeepers. It was as you first assumed, this was where the lightkeepers were settled – it explained the vastness of the mansion.
“You’re off track once again, miss” you hear a familiar voice, you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is.
It’s the adoring lightkeeper you’ve had your eye on all this time, the very man you keep coming back to, even after your horrible first experience throughout these very hallways.
“Something tells me you’re not as clueless as you were when you first came here” Flins says, a hint of teasing in his voice as he nears his lamp between the two of you. You feel a little tense, biting onto your bottom lip as he strides closer.
Though the man was gentle with you, always, you couldn’t hide behind the fact that he was both incredibly intimidating and attractive, a deathly combination when up close.
“I was just… curious, that’s all”
“As the old saying goes, curiosity kills the cat. Was it the paintings that drew you to this room? There’s a rather rich history behind them” Flins begins, his eyes intent on yours before a small smile plays on his lips, “I’m sure you have a tasteful eye, but I have a feeling that wasn’t the reason. Would i be corext in assuming so?”
You let out a small breath, eyes on the floor – its clear as day, you’ve been caught. There’s no point hiding it now, you knew the truth behind the event, you simply wanted to snoop around. Something told you that Flins knew everything there was to know about you.
“This isn’t a celebration; it’s only disguised as such. You’re all just here to recruit individuals you see fit”
The smile on Flins’ lips only grows ever so slightly, he’s clearly amused, his interest in you suddenly aroused, “such a smart girl, I wonder why you continue to come here then? Is it that you’re truly interested in joining the light keepers?”
The expression on his face is teasing and light, it leaves you swooning on the inside, and yet, you don’t know how to respond.
“Like you said, the ghosts… are real in this festival... so, I’m determined to grow stronger… that’s all” you manage, it not sounding clear and coherent at all, and yet, the man in front of you hums softly, placing his lamp on the table behind you.
“Mm and yet, you remain almost as fearful as you were in the first instance you came”
You step back, feeling a little nervous despite the conflicting words that come out of your lips,
“I’m not scared…”
“No?” Flins muses, stepping closer, he surely knows how intimidating he is when he strides closer. As you bump into the edge of the table you feel his palms settle beside your hips, caging you in.
“You can mask it as much as you want” he starts, bending down, his breath lingering against your cheek, “But I can sense your anxiety hidden beneath. Are the ghosts still bothering you, hm? I remember telling them to let you be, but maybe they’ve been misbehaving?”
Flins watches as you struggle to answer him, his eyes are intently watching yours, waiting, but you're not about to delight him with an answer anytime soon.
He hums softly, a gentle palm on your cheek,
“You don’t have to force yourself to undergo something that makes you feel so uneasy”
“It’s not the ghosts” you finally say and you feel both the room grow small and the silence grow louder.
“Oh?”
Flins’ ears perk up at the mention, and his eyes have a specific glint in them as he cocks his head to the side, bending closer to catch a glimpse of the expression you were so stubbornly hiding from him.
He has to hide a small smirk when he whispers, “Would you be so kind as to… elaborate?”, as you persist in your efforts to look away from him.
Flins can understand exactly what was happening now.
Though he was clueless in the beginning, he’s been on this land far too long to not have the eyes to recognise a lady who is so clearly flustered.
Though it is endearing to see you grow so shy, Flins in determined to seek an answer.
“Then…” his long, gloved fingers tap onto your jaw, sliding till it meets the tip of you chin, pulling your gaze towards him, “will you let me… find out?”
Your pupils shake when they’re matched to his, but you feel a little more at ease now. Bright, golden yellow, like the sun, though they’re beautiful, you can’t look for too long.
“Am I that scary? Hm?” he teases, moving once more, forcing you as gently as he could to keep your eyes on his, “To think had thought I toned it down for you…”
As you blink away from his stare once again, you feel him sigh, “It’s interesting, I don’t think anyone has ever been so forward with me before. Especially in such a round about way”
He’s about to step back, you can feel it. You would be a fool to let him go now when your feelings are already laid bare for him to see.
You reach out to the thick fabric on his chest and tug onto him, sharp and quick. Flins smiles ever so gently, his eyes are soft on you as he feels your arms wrap around his waist, your face pressed to his chest.
“I must say, I was rather intrigued with you myself” he mumbles, fingers delicate as they saunter from your shoulders, down your arms. You feel a shiver even in his warmth. His fingers dance all the way down to your palms, where he laces his fingers with yours,
“In the interest of my duty, I must confirm if you truly are interested in joining to lightkeepers”
You pull away feeling hot, you haven’t done anything scandalous, but here you are pressed against him, and his hands locked into yours,
Flins is closer now, his nose nudging onto yours, finally getting a good look at the lady who was once fixed on hiding herself from him.
“If so, we mustn’t continue… this. We’d be colleagues, after all”
Flins words are rational, but you’re far too bright to see through what he was trying to get at. This man, he was never the polite and poised character he played the part as – you had understood that from the years you had come by to observe both the event, and him.
“You just want me to say it outright” you decide to state it out plainly, he must know you’re not someone he can trick so easily.
But at the same time, you were a little too embarrassed to say it out loud, now that you thought about it, it did seem rather childish to keep putting yourself in an uncomfortable situation, just to get a glimpse of him every now and then.
That you longed for the night of Halloween each year, that it was all just an excuse to see him, even for a brief moment or two.
“You’re as clever as ever” he chuckles, “forgive me for being so imprudent”
You speak out your mind once more without even thinking, “You shouldn’t ask for forgiveness when you’re not sorry”
Fins' eyes grow wide, after a moments of silence, his eyes crinkle as he lets out the softest giggle, retreating into your neck.
“I’ve never met someone who is so easily sees through me, and so shamelessly calling me out” Flins settles a soft kiss on your neck, down to your collabone, his hands already soothingly brushing the sides of your waist.
“well then, since you won’t say it, I will” he mumbles, kissing onto your shoulder with a soft peck.
“I quite enjoy you coming in here, and I hope you don’t plan on showcasing your interest in joining the lightkeepers. If you do, I’ll only hinder your ability to be recruited – not because I don’t think you have what it takes, but because I want you to myself”
You can tell he's being every bit as serious as he was when he first told you that the ghosts here are real.
“So, you don’t want me to say it?” you breathe, your eyes are already heavy on his lips, awaiting his kiss that he generously gives into.
“No, it makes no difference” he muses, leaning back into you. His kiss deeper and all too sinful, evoking nothing but the sounds of pure bliss that you can’t help but let out form the back of your throat.
“Are you using reverse psychology on me now?” you push back, breathless and you feel a breathy chuckle against you,
“Perhaps… But, do tell me, did the ghosts give you any trouble? Be honest with me. I need to keep them in check otherwise...” he starts to mumble as he gently places you atop the table, his palms heavy on your thighs, pushing them apart gently as he settles himself between them
“No… no I… don’t think so” you manage to say, your arms finding their place back around his neck, pulling him close,
“Hm, good”
As Flins captures you into his hold once more, you let yourself fall in the deep end, it was addictive, you didn’t want to stop. If you could, you’d let him devourer you whole.
You don’t have time to notice how his large palms have already settled under your dress, grasping onto the flesh of your thighs, until you feel his fingers prod against your clothed core. You jolt up at once, your face leaning to rest atop his shoulder now,
“Flins?”
Flins responds innocently enough, but you’re well aware he’s everything but, “Yes?”
“I… I don’t want to join the lightkeepers” you sigh out in defeat, closing your eyes to concentrate on the way he’s teasingly circling over your core, his breath warm on your neck,
“mhm, and what else?”
“I only come here to get a glimpse of you” you say in a quiver of a breath as he chuckles, “I just… like you, that’s all”
“good girl, that’s what I like to hear” he coos, fingers straying away from your heat and to your hips instead, taking ahold of your sides and pulling away the now damp cloth that had been restricting you from his touch.
“the feeling is... very mutual” he hums, pulling it down your thighs softly before a gust of wind had creaked open one of the doors. Instinctively, your arms clutch unto his neck, pulling him close.
Flins smirks, casually pocketing your garment, before taking a hold of your calf, leaving a chaste kiss on the side of it. His eyes dont leave you, instead, he admire that look on your face.
It was the sudden look of fear in your eyes as you looked to the empty space behind him - Flins could already tell you had garnered some sort of understanding as to who exactly had entered into your shared space. He can’t help but adore the sight of you, almost marveling at how far you’ve come. You could now sense them, perhaps testing yourself so regularly wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
He cocks his head to the side with a smug smile, angling your chin back so your gaze met his, and not the obscenely rude friends of his,
“Perhaps, we should take this elsewhere? Away from prying eyes?”
when varka's met with a dangerously charming woman, he cant seem to keep himself restrained as he usually does. its exactly as you planned, or is it?
tags: every possible type of TENSION, suggestive content, romance, fluff, mc who is in her hoe phase and has never experienced a gentleman love her, mc who self sabotages and is MESSY, Varka who is a little too gentlemanly to a point you might get offended.
wc: 5.3k (yeah yeah I got carried away whatever - if anyone reads this just know that I love you)
chuu's note: based on this drabble I wrote! psa the tension in the end... I had to stand up and walk away from my laptop like 10 times lmao.
Varka was an upstanding citizen of Mondstadt - that meant he could do more than just tolerate alcohol. He tested his limits, each and every time, like a true citizen.
That was until he was met with a fair maiden who sat in front of him, hiccupping every so often after rambling about her adventures across Liyue. He hadn't seen her around Nod Krai before, but now, she was an acquaintance.
A friend.
Oh the joys of alcohol - he's made almost as many friends as he’s had drinks.
But she, oh was she a delight. Varka was certain it was the alcohol that night that had casted a shining glow around her as she spoke, but when he bumps into her in The Flagship late next night, he realises it was more than that.
She was beautiful.
And she knew it.
That was exactly the problem.
"Grand master Varka, hello. I see you’re staying at the Flagship too?"
"Ah, yes. The crew is staying here till we settle some business. I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other from now on" Varka says, a little chipper than usual at the sight of you. You looked quite relaxed today.
"You're not coming in?" you say, coy, you’ve opened your door a little more to give him a peek inside. Usually, it was an obvious sign to let a man in, but Varka didn’t seem to take the hint.
"Oh, no. I mustn't intrude in a ladies quarters…" Varka’s voice is a little more gruff, his eyes return to yours as you scrunch your brows to feign innocence.
"But we are friends, are we not?"
With a simple shake of the head, Varka lays it all clearly, you start to understand what type of man you were dealing with now. He was a fair bit different to the carefree man you shared a drink with last night.
"Friends do not exempt such rules in our knightlihood. Please do understand-"
"If I were a man, would you come in?" you hum softly, it was clear you were toying with the mental rulebook he seemed to follow.
"If you were a man… yes, perhaps" he replies promptly and you fire back in the instant.
"Well then, I'm a man" you state plainly before eyeing him, "care to refute?"
Varka seems all too stunned, but is fairly amused. He finds it a great deal awkward to be turning you down since were particularly charming in his eyes.
"No that’s... er... not necessary" he says awkwardly and you seem to pout, leaning your head against the frame of the door. You looked a picture of innocence, but he knew better.
"Oh but it is, how would you ever know?" you were referring to your identity as a man or woman – it was clear you were a woman, but how could one be so sure?
Surely, sir Varka could take the pleasure of finding out if you truly were a woman in the privacy of your room?
Varka's eyes shine a little and he can’t hide the way his lips curve into a grin right before he chuckles.
You were a dangerous one.
"You're charming, really. But I won’t take any part in this debate, for it may only harm your honor." His laughter is hearty and it finally allows you to fluster - he notices this, perhaps he's embarrassed you, that is the last thing he wanted.
"I mean no disrespect to you"
"Plenty have come in here before... for conversations... nothing else. I promise" you say quietly this time, trying to ignore the way his eyes have grown softer.
"I understand" his voice lowers with yours; he senses you've somehow grown meek all with his blow, "but there is a way a knight must act when they're in the presence of such a fine maiden as yourself"
Your disappointed huff is all it takes for Varka to focus back onto your lips. You don’t notice it since you're far too embarrassed from the rejection - truly, you've never been this brutally turned down by a man before, its taken an incredible hit to your ego.
You're brought back to the present when you feel a softness press onto your knuckles. Your eyes wide, you stare dumbfounded at the man who has his eyes closed and his lips pressed right there.
"I did not mean to upset you"
You grow hot at the words and the way his eyes are staring up at you from below. All too quickly, you find yourself yanking your hand back you your chest, almost as if you were clutching your heart - steadying it from beating so fast.
You've never felt this way, all for a mere kiss - and it wasn’t remotely near anything sensitive.
"I'm not upset" you say, but it’s nowhere near convincing enough.
Varka smiles instead, he was quite smitten at the way you were protecting your ego, "Then you won’t turn me down if I ask you to accompany to the market tomorrow?"
Again, you're lost for words, staring at the man as if you were a fish out of water.
And how could you say no?
The next morning you dress yourself up, you decide for something you usually go for – short, simple, showy. It was your most authentic self, and you really did want to highlight your assets today.
You were on a date with a handsome knight, after all.
The day is pleasant, Varka proves to you just how little he cares about your choice in outfits, by not letting his eyes stray too long on your exposed skin. He compliments you dearly but doesn’t ever so much as touch you more than the necessary – as means of guiding you through the market stalls, or whenever there’s a large crowd tearing you two apart.
You do find yourself tiring a little, cursing your own self for choosing such flimsy footwear. The heels weren’t even that high, but they manage to snap when you’re halfway through your day out.
Varka, being as attentive as ever, noticed right away, and scooped you up into his arms as if your were nothing but a bag of feathers.
When he ushers your to sit down on a nearby bench, he takes off his jacket swiftly and places it atop your lap. You look at the garment, thinking long and hard about its use as Varka lowers to inspect your ankle.
He hums below you, pressing on it softly as you jolt up a bit,
“Apologies, sweetheart” he mumbles and your cheek grow aflame, you don’t think he’s even realised he’s addressed you in such a manner. You’re in your head again till he speaks up,
“I’ll be back in a moment, please stay here”
You nod your head, not bothering to argue. You were still fixed on how he called you so sweetly.
You shake your head. Wait. You’ve heard that plenty. You’ve heard a dozen more pet names from a dozen other men-
You clutch onto the jacket atop your knees and realise the next best thing to leave you dallying around in your mind for another hour. Your dress was too short. He was being mindful.
Your heart flutters again.
Curses.
Varka comes back faster than you’d expect for what he’s carrying in his hands. A pair of sneakers. He’s wearing that cheesy smile of his as he bobs back down to the ground, taking your foot onto his knee and dusting it. His smile grows wider, and his entire face glows with pride as he looks at your foot,
“It’s a perfect fit! I totally guessed it”
“That’s very impressive, sir Varka” you say without thinking and he looks up to you like a doe, blinking once, then twice, before looking back down and chuckling. He tends to your other foot, and you realise the tips of his ears have gone red, you smirk.
“Thank you, you’re quite dependable” you muse with your best honey smooth voice as he stands up in front of you dusting his hands, before placing them on his hips.
He waves at you as if it were no big deal and offers his hand for you to stand up, “How does it feel? Comfortable?”
“Yes. Much more comfortable”
“I’m glad, we can resume if you’d like? Or perhaps you’d like to return back?”
“Let’s continue a little more” you smile, stepping to his side as you clutch onto his arm, your palm wrapping snugly on his large bicep.
Varka’s eyes grow wide as he looks down to you, his words a little hoarse, perhaps he felt the way your chest pressed up on him. You couldn’t help it; you finally had an excuse to touch him – and he had one to let you.
“Are you tired? We can head back if you-”
You shake your head softly against the arm you’ve rested it on, “Only a little, is this uncomfortable?” you say as you look up at him with eyes that make his breath hitch a little.
“No- not at all. I- uh. Let’s resume!”
You make your way to the tavern, smiling as you notice the familiar uniform of the Favonius Knights of Mondstadt. They were a chatty bunch; you could hear their conversations even from afar.
“Sir Varka, I see you’ve been keeping company with a fair lady?”
“We are friends. Close, friends. She’s staying for the duration of the month as we are…”
Friends. You can’t help but feel a little dim at the words spoken by your knight, but you understand them well.
He lived a different life from you – different morals, different standards.
Of course, neither of you spoke of being anything more than friends, but you were sure there was something more than just kindness in his eyes whenever he looked at you.
But you were an impatient woman, you’re relentless with your lovers as you are with the attention they give you. You weren’t a pretty poised lady who would wait years upon years to be courted by a suitor. You weren’t that type at all. You were tired of waiting.
"My restraint, it is an act of respect. Please do not take it in any other way" Varka’s voice is pained, you feel pitiful for the man who stood in front of you under the illumination of the moonlight. The breeze was biting, and he had insisted on you using his jacket to stay warm - but you refused.
You cornered him tonight.
After countless hours of hearing the knights chatter. You wanted to know what he thought of you, but all that came out was an accusation.
“Do you not find me attractive? Is that it?” you almost cringe at the memory, but there’s no turning back time.
You were hurt he hadn't fallen for your charms and taken you to bed that very moment.
No one's ever resisted you, at least not that easily.
The knight was still in front of you. His fingers interlaced with yours, pulling you close, but not too close.
You can tell it with the way his gaze is fixed on you, a sense of longing, yearning for you, you've never seen it on any man that's pursued you before.
Somehow, you believe he's not just speaking just for show - he means every word he says. As if anything that comes out of his lips is an oath he follows with every breath he takes.
"If anything, it makes my love for you real, not selfish"
You want to crumble down into ash. There’s never been a man who has spoken so purely of love to you ever before. And you begin to wonder if you even deserve to hear such poetry come out of his mouth. All directed to you, you didn’t believe you were worthy of something this precious.
"Desire without discipline is animalistic", his breath is but a whisper as he steps closer, growing faster. His eyes that were once determined to stay on yours have fallen astray now, as his face rests atop your shoulder – his whispers make you shudder, "breaking these vows... they would only make me a knight in name"
"Vow..." you mumble softly, "you have vows to your knights, but your vow to me, what is it?"
"My vow to you?" Varka pulls back,
"Yes"
"I fear... it would only drive you further away from me" Varka speaks, you see the tips of his ears redden, even amidst the darkness of the night.
Something tells you that he's had these very vows prepared for some time, but he's been intentionally holding them back.
You know why now.
He doesn’t want to burden you with his vows, or his commitment. Commitment you both know, you’re not prepared for.
A rush of worry trickles down your spine as you think about the situation you’re in. It was your fault for being so insistent on a man who clearly had a code of honor to fulfill.
A code you could not fulfill.
But you still wanted him. And that was cruel. To both you and him.
You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt bad for being cruel towards a man, but tonight, you feel it.
You feel like a monster, ripping away something precious from Varka. Something he cherishes with all his heart.
Your heart skips a beat at the sudden realisation; you like this man. A little too much.
This was new. And it was terrifying. You needed to put an end to it.
“I should go” you say, your voice cracking painfully as you step to leave, but Varka pulls you back. You bump into his chest, and your lips are caught in his – but it is no accident.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have” you say quickly, shaking your head and taking a step back. But Varka is insistent on holding you back,
“I kissed you, you have nothing to apologise for-”
“I kissed back” you snap, panicked all of a sudden. As if you’ve done something incredibly wrong, as if you’ve ruined all hope for anything between the two of you. But you know it’s the opposite.
You’ve never ever cared for the consequences till now.
“I’m allowed to kiss women” Varka says, eying you carefully, hoping you’d understand him. Yet, even when you look right into his eyes, you don’t reach him.
“But you mustn’t waste it on someone who you know you cannot keep. Isn’t that right?”
The words are bitter on your tongue, and you know they’ve done a lashing onto him when he receives them. He looks heartbroken, but you’ve only spoken your truth.
Commitment wasn’t something you had ever considered in your lifetime.
In the coming weeks, you pluck up your courage to see Varka again. He’s sitting patiently, waiting for you to finish your speech about how the kiss was a dangerous mistake, and that you would like to forget it altogether.
You’ve come to terms with it now – you like this man a great deal. And because you like him so much, you will spare him the inconvenience of your interest.
He deserved someone better than yourself – and that is what you have settled on.
Varka, though pained at the thought of forgetting his kiss, agrees, but not before commenting that he would still like to be friends. Though you are hesitant to dismiss the idea, he doesn’t give you the chance.
You feel faint as he stands up and strides towards you.
The last time you were this close, he had kissed you.
You swallow thickly, feeling him towering above, as his eyes narrow down on your skin – it was an unfamiliar sight to see the knight rake up your bare skin. If you were your usual self, you would relish in the new development.
But you liked him now, you truly cared for the man. You didn’t want to charm him anymore.
You feel the rough pad of his thumb press onto a spot just above your breast,
"I see you've found yourself in a good time" he mumbles lowly, his eyes flickering back to yours as a stinging sensation fills the very spot he presses into. Your cheeks grow hot as you remember the marks that were still freshly engraved into your skin from your most recent rendezvous.
"It wasn't" you say blandly, you didn’t want to lie of course, not in front of a saint like him.
Varka’s eyes hollow, he tilts his head to the side, "What’s his name? I can teach him a lesson."
"It’s not like that" you sigh, before failing to keep the words to yourself, "I just wish it were… someone else, that’s all"
"I see" he clears his throat, a shine returning back into his eyes. When you see a silver of a smile appear on his lips, you know it’s too difficult to be playing this game anymore.
Friends. As if that were ever possible.
“I guess, sometimes, we can’t all have what we want” Varka says, his eyes piercing through yours, at if he was staring right at his own reflection. You feel a pang of hurt at first, but you soon come to realise, he was saying it to himself.
“I guess so” you mumble as you seek your own reflection in his eyes.
Every day since then, you do your best to avoid the knight. If you ever see even a small glimpse of him, you turn the other way. If you so much as hear his name, you’d beeline elsewhere.
But in truth, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.
About his god-forsaken smile and that childish laughter that roared whenever he felt even a tiny glimpse of joy.
You hear it again when you’re at the tavern and you feel your body go still.
The area was arranged for a special show tonight, and you had thought to pay a visit.
You didn’t expect the whole of Varka’s crew to be settled in here, but you shouldn’t be too surprised either.
Suddenly, you’re a little thankful that you have dressed a little more modestly – your dress a had a higher neckline than usual, and it wasn’t all too short either. To top it off, you had a modest shawl to cover your curves from any attention – something you would have never ever thought you’d be capable of doing.
Ever since your revelation of liking Varka, you couldn’t help but cover yourself up more. You hated that you did it in hopes of impressing him when you were meant to be avoiding him, but that’s exactly what silly crushes were like. You felt like a teenage girl all over again, trying to impress a silly boy by changing herself into something she's not.
But Varka was no silly boy.
“Ah Y/n, it’s nice to see you again. Are you here for the show?” you hear Varka, he’s sat on one of the chairs furthest away from the stage.
You smile softly, and tug onto your shawl a little tighter, “I was just paying a visit, I didn’t think it would be this crowded. But I must leave, there aren’t any places left to seat myself”
Varka smiles even sweeter, and begins to stand, “You can take my seat, I’ve even warmed it up for you”
“That’s quite okay, Varka. I am fine to stand” you shake your head, trying to be as polite as you could, but the man was stubborn today.
“That’s no good. You’ll tire out your legs”
“Then, what about yours? Your legs are far more important than mine, I could never steal a spot from such a valuable individual like you.” You quickly say as he frowns at you. You want to giggle at the way he frowns; it looked almost like a child who was being denied candy.
“Mmm, you’re not letting go easily, are you?” Varka huffs before seating himself back on the chair. You hear the crowd begin to murmur as a guest appears on stage. All attention was now on the stage, it was the best opportunity for you to leave, but Varka’s eyes are on you like a hawk, drawing you in.
Varka pats onto the flesh of his meaty thighs as he looks at you, his head cocked to the side as he eyes your expression turning flushed. He tries not to smirk, but he can’t help it.
You wave your hands frantically and decline, that is until his fingers wrap oh so delicately around your wrist, tugging on it just the slightest.
“There’s no harm in it”
“But-”
“There’s nowhere else to keep you seated” he shrugs, “and I’d hate for you to miss out on the show”
You truly wonder how Varka manages to speak this way, “Don’t worry, no one’s watching us”
“I’m not worried, but you should be” you remind him, but he simply raises his brows, feigning innocence.
“It’s not wrong to help a maiden in need”
You huff lightly as you step closer, your legs almost shaking and giving away right as you let yourself sit atop of him.
You feel Varka hum as his larger palms wrap gingerly around your waist, pulling you closer against him. You hold your breath and stay as still as possible, but it seems he notices it all too easily.
Varka’s hands rub at the sides of your waist soothingly. You know he’s being sweet, gentlemanly, even, but you’re far more concerned with keeping your emotions in check.
You were on his thigh now, you needed to behave, you needed to not focus on how good it felt to-
“Comfortable?” you feel his breath on the side of your neck, and you stiffen at once, he chuckles.
You feel him tense his muscles for a moment and you want to moan out at the feeling under your core. The mental and physical restraint you were employing to not squeeze your legs against his thigh, it was immeasurable.
“Which do you prefer, hm?” he mumbles, letting his muscles relax once more, before tensing them again. You close your eyes shut and steady your breath – surely, he was playing with you right now.
“How it was... before” you say as calm and as unbothered as you can manage. You hear him sing a small affirmation before relaxing himself again, and you finally feel like you can breathe.
“You’ve been avoiding me a lot lately, I though you said we could still be friends?” he starts and you bite onto your bottom lip to remain sane. So he noticed. It explains why he’s acting so out of character right now.
“Is this why you keep me held hostage?” you speak, coy, but Varka chuckles softly behind you, attempting to remain just as unbothered.
“You’re free to leave whenever you please, malady. I would never keep you out of your will”
Unfortunately for Varka, you did take it as your cue to stand up from his lap. Though, you don’t get even a step away from him till his arm swings around your waist. His forearm is strong and hard, firm enough to pull you back onto him with little to no effort.
As you’re settled back on his thigh, you turn to meet his gaze, quirking an eyebrow up, “Well?”
Varka stares at you for a moment, awkward and innocent before clearing his throat, “Uh… answer me before you go” but with the way he pulls you in closer, you know he won’t let you go, not that easily at least.
You turn back around to face the stage and notice his fingers wrap into his own against your stomach, locking you in place, “I was merely being respectful of your boundaries as a knight”
Varka sighs softly, and you can almost envision him shaking his head from side to side, “It’s not your job to be respectful, it’s mine. You’re free to act as you please. As you are, wholly.”
You try not to grow emotional at the words, but you remain stoic, “I’ll keep that in mind from now on”
“And is that…” he trails his fingers from your shoulders, down along your arm to your wrists – you feel your entire body tingle, “why you’re so covered up?”
“Hm?” he prompts you to answer once more, but you feel too embarrassed now. So, he caught on. Now you looked much more desperate than you’ve ever looked – which is an all-time low, since desperation was all you gave off when you first met.
You cringe internally, wishing to disappear entirely.
“It’s too hot for this, is it not?” he mumbles against your skin, “I worry for the conditions you set yourself in”
You don’t bother to refute his words – he’s being rational, and that was the most charming way to go about it. He wasn’t gloating about how you were trying to appear modest around him. He was simply proposing you shed a layer or two to be more suited to the conditions you were in – hot and bothered. In more ways than one.
“May I?” you hear him behind you, and with the fingers that were already settled around your neck, you nod,
“Go ahead”
Swiftly, you feel your shawl pulled away from you, “Better?”
“Thank you”
You feel lighter now, but you’re still hot. You have Varka to blame for that. His strong arms hold you tighter,
“You’re most welcome”
Varka feels more at ease now, seeing you in the clothes he knows you’re most comfortable in.
His eyes settle on the smaller beads of sweat collecting behind your neck, though he’s tempted to wipe at them, he knows it’ll only fluster you more.
He’s a knight, and though Varka takes great pride in his set of values and adherence to the codes of knightlihood, he isn’t always the picture of a saint.
It has taken him far more restraint than usual to calm himself down tonight, especially with your weight on him – the feeling of it was sinful, but the thoughts he battled were far worse.
With the way he feels your heat on him, he’s settled with the knowledge that you feel quite the same. A feeling of excitement, one he should be ashamed of, but he isn’t.
You’ve soaked right through your dress. You’re sure of it.
You haven’t even made it halfway through the show yet.
You close your eyes, wishing to focus on anything else, anything other than the fleshy thigh that belonged to the otherworldly man who you kept fantasising over in each of your sleepless nights.
“Bored of the show already, huh? Should we retreat back to your room?”
You swallow, hard. You heard correctly, did you not? He used the word ‘we’.
We.
“Varka-” before you can say anything more, he moves against you. Gently ushering you off his lap, his fingers already laced at your wrist in case you’d run off.
You immediately move your eyes off of him and away from any part of him. You don’t want to see the mark you’ve left on him, and he certainly doesn’t make any hint to even knowing of the stain – though you knew well, he’s felt every bit of the dampness you left on him.
In a matter of moments, you’re surprised to see Varka step a single foot – let alone his whole body into your room.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. Well, I mean-” you begin as he closes the door behind him, finally letting go of your wrist. His eyes are gentle,
“There’s nothing to apologise over, sweetheart. It’s only natural.” The way he so easily says it makes your heart melt into two, “If anything, I should apologise for putting you in such a predicament. I wasn’t exactly behaving as I should have.”
There is a silence, and you start to realise that he wasn’t at all acting himself either. You thought you were in your head this entire time, but the knight had just admitted to you that he was acting out of the ordinary. He was riling you up on purpose.
“No, you weren’t”
“Then, may I take care of the consequences?” he muses, an eyebrow raised that made you bite onto the bottom of your lip to contain yourself from ripping his clothing off entirely, “You’re still wet, aren’t you?”
You look to Varka with wide eyes, you feel yourself shaking at the very words. You would be on the bed that instant with his face between your legs if you were your usual self.
“It would be a disservice to leave you as you are” he starts, he doesn’t move an inch closer, and you’re thankful for that, “a knight is bound by duty, and once he starts something, he must finish it”
“You don’t have to. I can just- I can just do it myself!” your words rush out and you’re left hot at the silence that follows. You close your eyes shut, not wanting to see his face but you can already hear him scoff, and the soft creak of the chair as he sits down.
Never in this lifetime would you ever expect to utter such a pathetic sentence to a man – you seem to surprise yourself with a new low each time you’re faced with Varka. It’s like you become a new woman.
“Go on then” Varka is seated on the small armchair beside your bed, his legs spread, as he cocks his head to the side, eying you.
“Huh?” you scowl, before clarifying, “I meant by myself”
“I know” he shrugs,
“Varka!” you exclaim, covering your mouth at your own response. It wasn’t an absurd request to watch you pleasure yourself, and it wasn’t at all scandalous – in fact, you’ve experienced far more scandal with the men from Fontaine, but that was a story for another day.
“I was just teasing~” he cracks into a smile, chuckling into a fit of laughter with his head leant back. You’re mesmerised with the man in front of you again, and you feel like your throat is clogging up.
“Stop changing up all the time” you mumble softly, “it’s driving me insane”
“I was simply matching your energy” Varka replies, his tone this time, a little more serious.
You feel yourself grow embarrassed, your cheeks hot and your eyes glossy.
You were needy and aroused, but you were your own demise.
“Let me take care of you, yeah?” you look up to see Varka stood in front of you again, his large palm, warm and rough, against your cheek – but it felt all too comfortable. You close your eyes to fall into the feeling – you wanted him, badly.
“I’ll be good, I promise” he whispers, his eyes are on yours, you can tell, You force yourself to look back at him, “That night, I kissed you. I made the commitment to stay beside you, and I will. In every way possible. I’m not hiding away anymore, at least not like before.”
“Are you sure?” you hear yourself crack, but you feel his lips ghost over your own, mending what you kept breaking.
“Positive”
Varka is gentle with his kiss, he isn’t pushy, he isn’t a rough brute like you’d imagine a knight. He treats you as if you’re as fragile as a flower. You don’t think you’ve ever been kissed like this.
“And if I trample on your heart and warm the bed of another man right after this, what will you do?”
Varka chuckles softly, “I’ll win you back. As a knight always does”
“And if you can’t?” you furrow your brows, hoping he’d back down, but he doesn’t.
“I will” he kisses you, “There’s no battle I haven’t won”
Despite your brain telling you to push him away, you can’t help but be swayed. Your heart swells with a newfound happiness you’ve been trying to dampen all this time.
There was no use anymore. You've lost the battle inside your head and he's taken the glory.
“That’s an awfully conceited thing to say” you giggle and Varka’s expression entirely softens at the sight of you - finally smiling for him. With a small sigh, his forehead leans against yours as he nudges his nose onto you.
“What can I say, I am a knight”
chuu's note: varka, I assure you lord barbatos does not care if you rail a woman, he is sooo chill, my guy~
also, can you tell i just finished watching the new season of bridgerton? I swear my writing became like lady whistletown throughout this... but I think it weirdly fits the story and tone haha!!
Modern Teyvat AU ||
Childe is a transfer student who meets a hot, sexy professor named Zhongli.
On the first day of class, Childe sat right in the middle, front and center, as he stared at his professor. He wore a suit and tie along with fitted gloves to complete the outfit. He was covered from the neck down and yet, Childe was already undressing him with his eyes.
Chalk dragged on the blackboard carved through his daydream along with a soothing, deep voice that glided in the air as he introduced himself.
“My name is Zhongli. I will be teaching you this semester. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”
The professor’s voice was jaw-dropping. Childe couldn’t believe his ears. That deep, resonating voice made his soul tremble. How could any man in this world have such a voice?
Hot and horny, Childe wants nothing more than to do a lot of dirty things to his prim and proper professor.
Slowly and surely, they both start falling for each other, but they also each have a secret they can't reveal.
Could their relationship last?
Thinking about laying in bed and getting a massage.
You offered. Saw I was tense and heard me complaining about being sore and you decided to do something about it. So now Im laying face-down in your bed, my clothes gone (because it’s a massage isnt it? Just a massage~) and Im waiting for you to touch me.
You start at my shoulders, press out every knot until Im soft and pliant, making your way further down while I moan for you. Down my ribcage and my waist, to the thick swell of my hips and ass, pressing against every divot and curve of soft, needy flesh.
Eventually, when Im so pliant and floaty and relaxed you’ll go for your actual prize. You’ll spread my ass and look at my tight pussy, my hole wet and tight and clearly needy. I’ll whine and fluster at you looking, but you’ll hush me and tell me to sit still—you need to loosen me up everywhere don’t you? I need to be a good girl and let you give me what I clearly need—what I must obviously be begging you for.
You prepared a toy for this, didn’t you? Of course you did—you grabbed my biggest dildo off the shelf, knowing that when you forced my pussy to stretch around it that I would cry and moan so beautifully for you. And I absolutely do—with you straddled across my legs like this, theres nothing I can do but ball my fists and sob into the mattress as you cram each and every single inch into my tight little hole. Oh I’ll squirm and whine all right—but once you pop that thick knot into me, I’ll finally fall still and just moan so sweetly as I submit to letting you massage my insides too 🥰❤️
Laying on your stomach in my bed, wearing a short skirt and no panties, so innocently playing on your phone, knowing I’m going to be home soon.
You’ve been blowing up my phone all day with teasing messages and pictures, knowing that I’m at work and can’t respond to you, forced to glance down during my busy day and hope to catch a break, just to scroll through everything you’ve sent in the bathroom, cock in hand while enjoying my pretty girl.
You hear the bedroom door swing open slow, the hinges creaking slightly as I walk in. You ignore me, knowing exactly what I came in here for. From behind you, the sound of my pants dropping to the ground as I undress is unmistakable, as well as the feeling of the bed shifting as I crawl up behind you, pressing my cock against your ass as I slowly grind against it.
“You’re such a tease, sweet girl, don’t you know that?” I say softly, my hands sliding across your back, pushing your shirt up. My cock presses up against the entrance of your pussy, rubbing along the folds of it as I pick up your wetness. “Such a needy girl, you can’t even handle me being gone for a day so I can make the money to buy you pretty toys?” You put your phone down and press your face against the pillow you’re laying on, suppressing a gentle moan as you feel me pressing harder against you, barely sliding inside your tight hole.
“B-but I missed you, daddy….” You groan into the pillow. You feel my fingers tangle through your hair as I pick your head up off of the pillow, leaning over your back until your eyes strain looking upwards to see my face. “Well, baby, maybe I should just show you how much I missed you too.”
My cock slides all the way into you nice and slowly, making sure you feel every inch of me until you hit the base of my shaft. You bite your lip, letting out a small yelp as I start thrusting into you, moaning in your ear while you clench tightly around my cock, happy to not feel empty anymore. My arm wraps around your neck, hugging you in the crook of my elbow as I thrust my hips faster, smacking into your ass as I pound into you, hearing your little “uh uh uh uh uh”s with each rapid movement, mouth slightly open as drool drips down from your lips onto my arm.
“Fuck, my baby feels so fucking tight around my cock, you must’ve missed this feeling so much while you were all alone, huh?” I groan roughly into your ear. The only response I manage to get from you are more pretty moans and pleads, as you’re already long gone, your brain shut off and only thinking of how nice it feels to take me deep inside of you. I thrust into you more and more, until I’m laying on top of my pretty girl, grinding my cock into your needy cunt, before I wrap my other arm tight around your stomach, and with a moan, cum deep inside of you, my cock twitching as I fill you up completely. I gently release some pressure off of your throat, giving you a break as I lay on top of you, my cock still deep inside of you as our fluids slowly drip drip drip out of your pussy. “You’re such a good girl…” I say, stroking your hair gently as you tilt your head to rest against my arm, just waiting until I get the energy to go another round.
Everyday after daddy picks you up from school you play the "special tickle" game where he sits you on his lap while you watch cartoons and you rub your private parts against the big lump in daddy's pants. You like how the lump gets bigger and harder the more you rub. It's like it's alive the way it throbs beneath you! It also makes your privates feel soooo good. Daddy likes it too. You can tell from the way his breath gets heavy and the weird sounds he makes into your ear. He'll grip your hips tight and thrust the lump against your kiddo parts really fast until you both get your special tickle. It's the bestest feeling ever! Your whole body shivers and twitches with daddy while you both make the weird noises. When you're done playing, you have to clean up (the game makes your undies really wet and sticky) and then start your homework before mommy gets home. It's yours and daddy's special secret and your favorite part of the day. Today as you rubbed and rubbed Daddy's lump he stopped you right as you were about to get your special tickle and turned you around to face him. He unzipped his pants and took out the lump which was actually his pee pee! He called it a cock and it was big and red and twitchy and leaking stuff from the tip. Daddy said he was gonna show you another way to play the game. He was gonna put his cock inside you and it would feel so good that you'd get a special tickle! You were nervous and didn't really understand but trusted your daddy. He slid your wet panties to the side and lifted you up, then slowly started lowering you onto his cock. It was so big and it hurt! There's no way daddy could get his thingy inside you! It felt like you were being ripped open! You whined and tried to get him to stop but daddy held you and told you to be a big kid for him and that he promised it would feel better. He started moving you slowly up and down his hard cock which made you sink lower and lower onto his lap. The more he guided you up and down, the better it started to feel and soon you were sitting all the way on his lap with his cock buried deep inside you. You felt so full and daddy seemed happy too. He peeled off the top of your uniform and started running his hands all over your soft skin before lowering his head to your chest and sucking a nipple into his mouth. Daddy was making you feel so good. You moaned and started rocking against his lap.
"that's it kiddo, ride daddy's cock. You know you want it." He breathed against your skin.
He started gently thrusting up into you and you could feel his cock throb inside. It felt like he was in your tummy.
"you feel so good around me, baby. You like my adult cock splitting you open don't you? Ugh I can feel you clenching around me. This game is called "fucking" and all dad's play it with their kiddos."
You start rocking faster at the naughty words Daddy was saying.
"you don't know how long I've waited for this. I'll be fucking your tight little hole everyday from now on, kiddo. You'll be my personal fleshlight."
You didn't totally understand what was happening but it felt so good and you didn't want to stop. It's like your body was on autopilot and knew what to do. So you let it. You let out a high-pitched moan and gripped daddy's shirt. "Don't stop- don't stop fucking me daddy! I- I like it! Wan my special tickle!"
Daddy groaned and gripped your hips. He started thrusting hard into you while slamming your little hips down on his cock. You were whining and trembling. Your body unprepared for this onslaught of pleasure. Daddy leaned forward and smashed his lips against yours, kissing you like he kisses mommy. He licked and sucked your soft tongue before turning his attention back to your chest and ravaging your hard nipples. You were in ecstasy and could feel something brewing just below your tummy. It felt much bigger than your normal special tickles and you chased after it with wild abandon.
"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! something's happening, daddy! I think imma peeee!" You don't wanna have an accident on daddy's lap but you can't stop yourself from bouncing on his cock. "OH daddy! So goooood!"
"don't worry baby, daddy's got you. Just let it happen. Cum on daddy's cock, kiddo. Fuck! I wanna feel you cum."
You and daddy were grunting and mashing your bodies together desperately. His hands touched you all over and you begged him not to stop. Suddenly, your body tensed up and you were hit with the biggest special tickle you've ever felt. You cried out as your legs jerked and your hips spasmed sloppily, sucking his cock as deep into your womb as possibly and milking it for cum. Your body was warm and tingly all over and you felt overwhelmed with how much you loved your daddy for making you feel so good. He was the best daddy in the world for teaching you how to fuck. But all you could manage to get out as your tiny body shook against him was "I love you daddy! I love you daddy! I love you daddy!"
Daddy kept thrusting hard and deep, pulling you tight against his chest as you came undone. Kissing your face all over as you screamed out your love for him. You were milking his cock so perfectly, each ripple and spasm like a delicious kiss. He couldn't hold back even if he wanted to and erupted inside you with a roar. His own wife had never given him an orgasm this strong.
"Fuuuuck! That's it, kiddo! Cum with daddy! Ohhh daddy loves you so much baby! Take it! Take my cum, every lost drop!"
You and daddy humped against each other like animals, your bodies fully taking over as it did what was most natural. You felt daddy's cock pulse rhythmically inside you and felt something warm filling you up. You didn't know if daddy had an accident inside your privates but still, you couldn't stop yourself from grinding down while you clenched around his cock. Finally, you and daddy stopped shivering together. You both sat slumped and exhausted, panting and still twitching occasionally. You had no idea that special tickles could feel like THAT!
"that felt so good, daddy! Can we play again, pleaseeee" you give him your best puppy dog eyes but daddy just chuckles.
"sorry, little one but daddy has to rest a bit before we can play again. But how about this? If you can stay awake like a big kid then after mommy falls asleep tonight, I'll come to your room and fuck you again, sweetie. Deal?"
"Deal! You're the best daddy ever!"
Sorry this is super long. I started writing and it took on a mind of it's own lol.
holy fking moly anon what did i do to deserve this . u got me actually moaning out loud hjnjmgbgjmmjnghbff i want special tickles nowww 🥺 im a big boy i bet i could take it all the way inside me :3 yay yay yay yay yay
god i want a girl to claim me so bad. pin me down, bite my neck, whisper “mine” in that voice that makes my knees weak. i want her hands all over me, possessive and hungry, marking me up where everyone can see. let her fuck me like she’s staking her claim, like she won’t let anyone else touch me ever again. i wanna be her good girl, her pretty thing, moaning her name as she takes what’s hers.
Your older brother fucking you into the mattress while your parents are home. Your bro tries to cover your mouth with his hand, you can’t stop whimpering and moaning as he stuffs your boycunt with his cock.
“Gonna let mom and dad know how much of a big slut you are?“
“Letting them hear how much you love your brother’s cock, yeah?”
