you were going to die. your back was hurting, your entire body was exhausted, you were starving, you had just gone to the bathroom and you needed to go again, and worst of all—your husband hugo, the root of all of this pain, was just sitting there reading his stupid book.
at least it wasn’t blank this time, it was a book about taking care of pregnant women. “viviennnn,” you moaned, resting your head on his shoulder. “i want ice creammmmm…” your eyelids weighed heavy, but your cravings were more important.
“they’re not good for you, amour. too high in sugar.” hugo kissed your temple. “and it’s not good for the baby either.”
the baby. his go-to excuse for everything. hugo was probably more excited about the baby than you were, most obviously because that meant he could once again watch another organism live out their destiny. what a weirdo.
but the way he fondled your swollen tummy and the way his eyes softened told you all you needed to know about just how surface-level his “excitement” for destiny was.
“but vivien, i want ice cream.” you mumbled. “please? just once? i promise i won’t eat too much.” surely, he’d cave in soon.
“i suppose it is my fate to deal with your incredibly unhealthy pregnancy cravings,” hugo sighed. “one bite turns into ten, ten turns into twenty, and ‘one last bite’ turns into five more bites.” he took long, rapid strides to the freezer, making sure to not leave your side for too long.
to your shock, hugo pulled out an entire gallon of ice cream. he pulled out a spoon, and handed both items to you. “i expected this the moment i read that pregnant women tend to crave sugar.”
you opened the lid carefully, and the smell of perfect, creamy ice cream instantly hit your nose. your eyes began to water. “vivien! thank you, i love you so much!” you sniffled, hugging his torso tightly.
hugo brought a hand to the back of your head, playing with your hair. “…i also expected this when i read that pregnant women tend to be irrationally emotional over small things.” nevertheless, hugo’s eyes softened, and a small quirk of his lips appeared.
Going wedding dress shopping with Itoshi Rin is awful // fluff
(Sae x f!reader)
“How do you like this one?”
Rin shrugs, “It’s lukewarm.”
“You said that about the last three as well!”
“Because it’s true.”
You roll your eyes and look at yourself in the huge mirror.
You’re wearing a big, beautiful dress with lots of ruffles which is tight around the waist paired with opera gloves.
“I like it. What do you think Sae will think?”
“Isn’t his opinion meaningless? It’s your wedding dress and your wedding.”
You pout, “Rinnie, you’re just the sweetest person on earth.”
Rin grunts. “Doesn’t mean I like that one.”
With a big sigh, you turn around and walk to the changing room with the help of the sales lady.
The next dress you’re trying on, is a tight, beautiful satin dress. It’s more simple than the ones you’ve tried before, but just as gorgeous.
A big smile widens across your face as you look at yourself in the mirror, “This one’s beautiful.”
“It’s awful.”
You gasp, “Rin! I find it very pretty.”
“You have bad taste then. Proven by your choice of man.”
That makes you roll your eyes.
“I picked one last one, Rinnie. If that’s not good, we’ll have to go to another store.”
He nods and exhales loudly. You know exactly that he just acts like he doesn’t want this. Sae told you how much Rin adores you.
The last dress is by far the most expensive.
It’s made out of beautiful white satin with small details and the material is bound around your torso tightly.
The rest of the dress falls straight to your ankles, small gemstones and flower embroidery continue on the way down. A bunch of satin slings around your waist, in a slightly different material, held together by a gorgeous clip, making the dress look like one of a princess.
“Wow…” you turn around to look at yourself from every angle. “Rinnie, I love this one.”
After a moment of silence, Rin nods. “It’s the best one yet.”
You gasp again, this time out of excitement. “You like it?? That’s amazing, Rin! We’ll take it!”
And that’s how Sae ended up paying 4000$ for your Dress.
。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。
a/n: English isn’t my first language, criticism is welcomed but please be nice. Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! Do not steal or copy my work.
baby yuji loves his pretty auntie who brought him his favorite plush tiger! I wanted to do something cute cos I love bby yuji
“auntieeeeeeee!!!” the little glob of sunshine screeched and crashed face first into your thigh. he always loved when you visited him and his uncle kuna. you always indulged his childish antics, let him ramble for literally hours about tigers and his best friend megumi (poor kid had the attention span of a hyperactive puppy) how could he not love you?
“can she at least get through the damn door before you go tacklin’ her?” sukuna scolds the tot but there’s no true bite to his bark. “and stop calling her that, punk.” the kid hisses at him, bearing his two missing front teeth, all the while you chuckle above him. the man couldn’t get two seconds alone with you while the kid was around, but honestly it seemed healthy to have you around. yuji opened up about some of the things he was going through to you a lot easier than he did with his uncle. sukuna had temporary custody of the little boy until his twin brother and sister in law got themselves together. you gave both of them some relief when it came to that delicate situation.
back to the present, yuji clings to your leg, arms and legs wrapped around you in a vice grip. he tries to take a peak inside the paper bag you’re keeping out of his reach.
“stop being mean to my nephew,” you say, and commence an awkward waddle-walk to the couch where sukuna’s leaned back on. once you finally coax the boy off of your leg, he squeezes in between his two favorite people on the couch to watch, in sukuna’s words a “boring ass movie,” to which you reminded him a child was present and not to swear in front of a kid.
“auntie?” he asks, brown eyes magnetized to the movie still.
“yes?”
“whats in the baggie?” he notices the glance you give up to sukuna, who’s casually snuck his arm across the couch behind your head. sukuna shrugs. your bones pop as you stretch, and you hop off the couch to head to the dining room table where you placed the bag. yuji springs up right after you, feet pitter pattering across the apartment floor.
“close your eyes,” you say, but yuji’s too excited and is already barreling a plethora of questions at you. it’s so cute—you honestly would let him go on for the rest of the night, but ryomen cuts the toddler off.
“just close your eyes, brat,” he commands with a slight bass in his voice. he snaps his eyes shut and puffs out his cheeks, holding his breath in anticipation as he hears you rustle the bag for a moment.
“okay, you can open them now!” he slowly opens his eyes, and as he does, they nearly pop out from his head. he squeals excitedly and bounces up and down, his tiny body spasming in pure joy.
“baby, the neighbors!”
“sowwy!” sukuna sighs. yuji reaches for the tiger, but recoils, as if he’s not sure if he wants to take it or not.
“uncle sukuna told me you were having a hard time sleeping, so I thought this little guys would help keep the nightmares away,” you explained. you urged him to take the toy. he looks back between the stuffed tiger and his uncle, who was watching from his spot on the couch.
“you just gonna stand there or are you gonna take the damn tiger?” yuji snatches the tiger and squeals a bunch of rushed together “thank you’s!”and crushed the toy in a death hug.
“THANK YOU THANK YOU! I LOVE YOU FOREVER!! I WISH MY UNCLE WOULD MARRY YOU!!!”
“alright, bedtime,” sukuna suddenly says and gets up from the couch and ushers the child to the back of the apartment. you giggled at the scene before you. sukuna glares but you pay him no mind. you of course, also help him get ready for the night.
later on, you tell the little boy goodnight, and leave him with his uncle for a few moments. he looked so comfy and snug with his little tiger he affectionately named after you.
as yuji drifts off into sleep, he reaches his stubby fingers for his uncles strong hands.
“uncle ‘kuna, um, can she stay?” it was a loaded question. he watches as his nephew falls asleep instead of giving him an answer.
Sometimes I feel like Sae would secretly want to be a boy-dad.
It's not that he wouldn't love having a daughter, he absolutely would but deep down, I think he'd dream of having a son who loves football as much as he does. The idea of patiently teaching him, training with him and watching him fall in love with the sport would mean everything to him.
A part of it would come from how much he misses Rin's baby era too. Back then, when little Rin used to follow him around everywhere and kick a football with him, those memories would definitely play a role in why he'd want a son someday.
On the other hand, I feel like Rin would pray for a daughter. He'd desperately want a little girl who would look just like you. Just imagining a tiny version of you running around and calling him "Daddy" would completely melt him every single time.
It's not that he would dislike the idea of having a son. He'll just be scared. What if the boy turns out exactly like him? What if he won't be able to be the father that his kid deserves?
But ironically, Sae's first child would be a daughter while Rin's first child would be a son. And honestly? The moment they'll become fathers, none of those preferences would matter anymore. They'd be so overwhelmed with love that they'd immediately promise to protect their children forever and spend the rest of their lives trying to be the best fathers they can be.
I also feel like Rin would become a dad first, while Sae wouldn't even be married yet. And because of that, Sae would absolutely spoil Rin's son.
On his days off, he'd randomly show up, take the kid and disappear for hours without properly even informing Rin. The fact that the boy looks so much like baby Rin would make Sae ridiculously nostalgic.
Sometimes he'd wipe the kid's face, kiss his chubby cheeks and stare at him for way too long. (Of course, he'd never do any of that in front of Rin) He'd spoil him so much that people would start thinking the child is actually Sae's son. Imagine Sae posting pictures of them wearing matching sunglasses, sipping juice together at some luxurious beach while Rin barely posts anything online.
Meanwhile, when Sae eventually will have his first child, a daughter, Rin would be too busy raising his own son to care much. That is, until she looks at him with those big innocent eyes and babbles, "Uncle Rin."
Then he'll be done for good.
He'd never show his affection openly but he'd constantly buy her gifts. Sometimes he'd secretly hand them to her and other times he'd make you give them to her instead.
Then eventually, Rin's second child would be a daughter and Sae's second child would be a son. And somehow, everything would feel perfectly balanced.
The funniest part is that all the cousins would get along wonderfully, which means they'd constantly look at their fathers and ask the same question:
"If you two love each other so much, why do you argue all the time?"
Because from their perspective, the feud makes absolutely no sense. One uncle steals the other's child for vacations. The other uncle secretly buys gifts for his nephew and niece. So the cousins would think the whole thing is hilarious.
And somehow, despite all the bickering and stubbornness, the next generation would end up becoming the family Sae and Rin never quite managed to be.
The deep resonant boom of wave against rock seemed to swallow the sounds of the mourners' wails whole. From the hidden cove, the funeral seemed to unfold in an eerie silence. Mouths open in anguish, shoulders shook with silent sobs, figures covered in heavy black silks clutching at one another, yet no sound of mourning had reached beyond the breakers. The ocean had devoured it all.
It had taken the old king's body, too, pulling the shrouded coffin out to sea on a small black-sailed boat that now bobbed on the horizon. The same tide that claimed shipwrecks had swallowed both the man and the raw noise of his passing
You do not know what a king was, precisely. You had heard the word carried on boats, spoken with a particular weight that other words did not carry. You understood, watching the shore, that whatever had been inside that black sailboat had been significant, and now that it was gone, the people of the shore did not know what to steer by. That much you understood without needing the words for it
The rites on land concluded in a way that was foreign to you. One by one, mourners stepped forward to cast offerings into the water: white flowers, folded scraps of paper, tiny objects that flashed silver beneath the sun before disappearing beneath the tide. You did not know if these were a sacrifice, a bargain, or perhaps they feared sending off their dead empty-handed. There were no drifting currents to carry the essence away, no shimmering clouds of plankton or echoing songs to bind the living to what was lost.
You watched for a time, trying to discern its logic, when slowly, the robed figures began to peel away, all drifting back up the shore toward the buildings beyond the sand. They leaned on each other as they went, some still leaking from the eyes, some gone quiet and hollow. They carried their grief back up the beach with them, and the shore swallowed their footprints as soon as they were made.
There was one figure left.
He was young, broad-shouldered, and solid in his frame in the way of someone who had grown into their body all at once. His pink hair caught what little light the morning offered and held it strangely, lighter than those that once were around him, lighter than the sky.
He stood at the very edge of the platform where the boat had been, boots sunk into the wet sand, as he watched the horizon take what was lost. He sat and stared at the receding boat with an expression that was hard to decipher; he did not leak from his eyes, yet grief was carved into the set of his jaw, a hollow ache behind his eyes that went far beyond the polished sorrow of the crowd. It was raw and unguarded, as if the sea would offer answers that the land withheld.
His mouth moved once, a single word, but the waves took it before it could reach you. His throat moved with it, his hands at his sides, closed briefly then opened again.
Then he lowered himself to sit at the platform's edge, legs hanging over the water, and he bent forward with his elbows on his knees and looked down at the surface below him. At the tide that had already moved on, at the water that had taken everything without apology.
itoshi rin is in his feelings and he can’t get out of it !
rin’s heart is beating a hundred miles per hour right now.
your fingers intertwine with his, the tips of your shoes are just barely touching, and you’re just a few inches apart from each other. your eyes meet his, and rin feels like he’s melting under your gaze.
“is this okay?” your voice comes out hushed, as if you’re sharing a secret. rin barely manages a nod; his body is stiffer than a board. “alright. here goes.”
you begin to stand on your tiptoes, inching up until your lips eventually meet—
“rinnnn, wake uppp!”
goddamnit.
on instinct, rin tosses his pillow at bachira. “will there ever be a day when you let me wake up naturally?!” he exclaims, veins popping from his forehead.
bachira sticks his tongue out. “it’s already six-thirty, you were s’pposed to wake up thirty minutes ago! you should be glad that i let you sleep in for that long, rinnie!”
rin ignores him and storms into the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush harshly. he’s horrified to see his face bright red in the mirror, still flustered from his dream.
he wants to finish it. that was a nice dream, but bachira just had to wake him up at the best part. groaning, rin shoves the toothbrush in his mouth after applying a generous amount of toothpaste.
rin’s been distracted lately. distracted by you—every time he’s on the field, he can only think of you. do you miss him too? are you cheering him on from outside of blue lock? will you come to his matches?
rin splashes his face with a bit of water, hoping to cool it down before going to the dining hall. he can still feel the butterflies in his stomach from his dream earlier; why does he keep on thinking of you? it’s getting annoying now.
when he retrieves his breakfast, he sits next to isagi and a few others, the usual. “dude, rin, you’re totally red. you okay?” isagi asks, eyes widening in concern.
“shut up,” rin hisses. “worry about yourself.”
“ooh, when i woke him up this morning, he was totally smiling in his sleep!” bachira says in glee. rin shoots him a glare.
“shut the hell up, blunt bangs.” rin forces a few bites of food into his mouth, hoping that they’ll stop teasing him if he eats.
rin is wrong.
“he must be thinking of them again, huh?” hiori butts in softly. the others all look at each other knowingly, and rin’s face feels like it’s on fire.
“mind your own fucking business…” rin mutters, chugging down his glass of water.
of course, by them, they meant you. the moment the others caught rin smiling when you came to cheer them on during the u20 japan game, they’ve made every effort to tease rin about you.
the stoic, fake nonchalant, number one player in blue lock…has a crush—who he thinks about every single day.
“he’s been thinking about them during practice too.” reo responds. “the way he looks like he’s in a daze? i think i’ve only ever seen him look like that when he looks at them.”
the others nod or reply with “yeah”. rin furrows his eyebrows, scowling. “i’ve decided that i won’t talk to them from now on, because they’ve been distracting me so—“
buzz! buzz!
rin’s phone begins to ring in his pocket; he mumbles curses under his breath until he sees the caller id: it’s you. his gaze melts like butter, and he picks up near immediately. “hey…mhm, yeah. yeah. uh-huh. i’ll see. s-stay safe. bye.” his voice softens.
once he hangs up, everyone in his table looks at him teasingly. “i won’t talk to them from now on,” bachira repeats in a ridiculous mock-rin voice.
isagi narrows his eyes, trying to recreate rin’s signature look. “because they’ve been distracting me, so—oh hey babe! i love you so much babe!” almost the entire table laughs.
rin’s face is darker than a plum. “isagi, bachira, i’m going to beat both of your asses.” he murmurs.
“yer voice even got all sweet!” hiori points out with a giggle.
I don't get why people portray Kaiser as rough and brutal during sex. I think he'd genuinely take his time with you.
Slow and deliberate thrust into your drooling pussy, because of how much he had been teasing and touching you before.
His hips would move in soft grinds against yours, while his big, muscular body would be pressed against your softer, smaller one with a lot of kissing and spit, while he would occasionally moan into your mouth if you clamp down on him.
He would nibble on your bottom lip, telling you how wet you were and how fucking hard it made him. He would also ask you to praise aaaanything he did, while you'd admire his pretty and sweaty face as he buckles up into you. "Baby, ain't handsome?", his voice comes out as a breathy moan. "Yes, you're so pretty" "Baby, I am doing amazing, right" "Yes, feels sooo good, Micha. More, please"
He would speed up sometimes, merciless fucking into you, making you a crying mess and then slowing down again so his veins could slowly drag along your gummy walls. "Baby, I am going to cum, let's kiss please"
He would keep his hips moving all the time too, even when he's cumming. Lower body moving in circles and firmly pressing against your swollen parts while his cum would be spruting into you, giving you a creampie. And kissing while he came was a must or else he would pout for the rest of the week.
Kaiser would love weekends and holidays too, because after practice he would be too exhausted to love you at night, but during weekends and holidays? Oh man, he could do it all day, everyday.
Plus points if y'all are on vacation and can get intimate on the beach, when everyone is gone and the stars are shining down on yall or in the hotel room where you have a beautiful view on the sunsets.
Over all I think Kaiser is very misunderstood and would struggle to communicate his feelings and he WILL hurt you a good amount of times, but will compensate with how much he tries to heal.
Michael Kaiser, if you have one million lovers, I am one of them
gender-neutral reader. no use of y/n. wishes. sadomasochistic lohen but it's subtle. he wants to eat you though make no mistake. reader is deeply unhappy about falling in love with lohen. wc.~3.3k
[part two of this] [or read here on ao3!]
You haven’t seen Lohen since he arrived back in Mondstadt and hid a flower in your sleeve when he came to harass you. You have heard of him, sure, everyone has. Vice captain Lohen has been very busy lately in earning the people’s gratitude. It’s as if he got back to the city and immediately decided to take himself out of it.
All that is to say, he’s driving you insane. You don’t want to be flustered, not at all, but every time your mind wanders back to him holding onto your wrist and realizing the flower after he left, your traitorous heart twists itself up.
It’s distracting. And horrible.
The windwheel aster sits in a vase on your kitchen counter. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away. Glass catches the light off the petals, reflecting a sort of streaked orange through itself and onto the counter.
The flower itself is starting to wilt now. It would be reasonable to toss it tomorrow since you absolutely are not going to preserve and dry the thing. However, you’ve been rather unreasonable lately. You imagine that the flower is going to stay and rot in that vase.
You lean on the counter to watch it. The petals are drooping, but it still smells fine. A sweet aroma curls itself around the kitchen, all from one flower. It’s a constant reminder of Lohen. The universe is probably laughing at you.
It’s hard to get him off your mind on a regular day. He is a constant fixture in the background lately, lurking just out of sight but his presence clearly felt as he nestles into your brain stem. If someone told you he had poisoned you, you would probably believe it.
You have to force yourself to pull away. Your shift starts soon and you don’t want to sit through a lecture about punctuality. You aren’t sure if the way your stomach twists is with dread or excitement at the idea of Lohen stopping by the shop as he so often does.
For your mental health, hopefully he stays away. There’s no conviction in the thought. You try and will your mind to go blank while you tug on your shoes and grab your keys.
You think ahead for the day as you walk out the door. You will not think about Lohen. For lunch you will walk across the square to Good Hunter. After work, you will buy some mushrooms and then you will do some reading before making dinner. Yes, this is a good plan, you think.
A warm breeze greets you outside. The city has begun to wake up, the usual crowd stepping out into the streets. The area around the fountain is empty this early in the day. You have a few minutes, so you slow to a stop in front of the bubbling water.
Mora lays strewn across the bottom of the fountain. Some of the coins are turning green from age. The fountain is cleaned out periodically, you know that, though you can’t help but wonder how thorough the cleaning is.
You can’t believe you’re doing this. Your hand slides into your pocket, locating the spare change you know is in there. You really need to put it away properly, but you can’t quite be bothered.
The mora coin is warm in your palm. You scrutinize it for a moment, tracing the pattern emblazoned on the front with your thumb. This is silly. You squeeze the coin in your hand, debating dropping it back in your pocket and continuing on to work.
You don’t even like him, despite what the butterflies in your stomach would like to claim. You toss the coin into the fountain and close your eyes. It’s hard to word what you’re wishing for. It’s all tangled up in your chest.
I want Lohen is what it boils down to. You hear the blip of water as the coin lands and sinks to the bottom to join the rest of the mora there. Maybe the anemo archon will do a better job at figuring out what you’re trying for.
You open your eyes slowly. The wind is still gentle, tangling in your hair and sliding over your skin. If you had the time, you would just stand here for a while. The weather is nice, the fountain sounds pretty, and the morning is always calm.
“What are we wishing for, hm?” A voice far too close for comfort says by your ear. You startle with a sharp inhale, spinning around.
It brings you face to face with the worst man in the world. Your chest does something funny. Barbatos thinks he’s so fucking funny.
Lohen smiles at you with an amused tilt of his head. It feels like he’s seen straight through you. You scowl on instinct. You hadn’t heard him approaching. To be fair, you never do. Whether he’s intentionally silent to scare people or if it comes naturally to him is a mystery.
You decide to not entertain his line of questioning. He disappears for days after pulling his flower thing and shows up like nothing is wrong. You wonder, not for the first time, if he’s pulling on you because he’s bored.
“Move. I’m going to work.”
Lohen’s smile doesn’t waver at the sharpness of your voice. No, his eyes narrow in delight. Your stomach twists again. He’s leaning ever so slightly into your space. He needs to die for making you feel like this.
“Let me escort you, can’t have one of our citizens get into trouble,” he says. His voice dips as he teases. He’s too close.
You click your tongue and move to step around him. “It’s literally one minute away. Less than.”
Lohen matches your movement, blocking your path. No matter how curt you are with him, nothing deters him. It has to be some sort of psychological defect, you know he can read social cues perfectly fine. That’s part of what makes this so frustrating. You don’t want to like him, and he makes himself hard to get rid of.
“But imagine what could happen in those 60 seconds!” Lohen continues on. “Someone like me could jump out of one of those alleys and get you.”
“It’s 8 in the morning. I’m fine.” You don’t refute the notion that someone like him is dangerous and weird. Lohen may be a model knight, but his ruthlessness is what makes him reliable.
“All the better to catch you while you’re unsuspecting,” his smile grows. Your frown deepens. He’s too happy about the prospect of someone pulling something on you. That someone most likely being him. Terrible.
“Come on,” Lohen leans closer. “My job is protecting the people, you don’t want me to get demoted, do you?”
“I hope you get kicked out of the knights,” you respond flatly, leaning away from him.
“Ha. Ouch. You know, I don’t think anyone else talks to me like this,” he hums. You aren’t sure what to make of that, so you pick the safe choice of being harsh.
“No one else can see what a pain you are. Now, move.”
Lohen laughs again. The sound settles low in your stomach. He finally steps aside with a flourish of his hand. “After you.”
Your eyes narrow. “You aren’t coming.”
“Correct, I’m escorting you,” he grins.
“Don’t you have a job to do?”
“Ah-ah, this is my job,” Lohen says. “Speaking of, aren’t you running late?”
Oh no. Your heart drops. You got caught up with him and now you can see Marjorie coming from further up the street. You’re supposed to be there before she is.
“Your fault,” you mutter and slip past him. Lohen falls into step beside you, his smile still stuck in place. The quick walk is quiet, and as you had told him, less than a minute.
Lohen stops outside the shop, smile smoothing out a bit. “I’ll see you after your shift.”
Your fingers pause from where they were on the key ring. You look at him over your shoulder, giving him your best unimpressed stare. A mix of wariness and excitement pounds under your skin. “Is that so?”
“Yep,” Lohen smiles again. “Enjoy your shift.”
You don’t respond to him this time, shoving the right key in the lock and pushing it open. The door shuts heavily behind you. Lohen doesn’t leave, because that would be too easy. You watch through the window as Marjorie approaches the shop and Lohen steps forward to greet her with a much friendlier smile than what he gives you.
He catches your gaze and flashes a lazy grin before going back to his conversation with Marjorie. You frown and turn your back on him. It’s not easier to pretend he doesn’t exist when you’re not looking at him.
You walk away and further into the shop until you get to the back room. You nudge it open with your shoulder and step inside. You’ll say you were just taking stock if Marjorie asks what you’re doing back here. For now, you press your hands to your chest now that you’re alone.
Your heart pounds. It’s a giddy rhythm inside your ribcage. It makes you want to laugh. Or cry. Butterfly wings get caught somewhere between your lungs and your stomach. You think you’re going to be sick.
⸻❈⸻
The rest of your shift is marred by Lohen’s parting promise and the nausea threatening to overtake you. You would be a liar if you tried to call it disgust.
Marjorie catches on that something is wrong, but you brush off her probing with a smile. You’ll be fine, just a little blip. Unfortunately, the blip is that your heart and mind are at odds.
You get lunch at Good Hunter like you had planned this morning. Mondstadt is busy by then, people milling about and running their errands amidst playing children and the occasional wandering bard who’s amassed a crow.
The store gets busy too. It always does after lunch. The clock ticking down makes your heart jump with every second it hits closer to when your shift ends. You want to call is weird how Lohen even knows your schedule, but you wouldn’t put it past him to have stalked you.
He’s also smart, he stops by so often that it wouldn’t be hard to put together your week at With Wind Comes Glory, much less when you get off on a particular day. The fact he learned it at all makes your chest twist again.
When you finally get the greenlight to leave, you have had to put your feelings in a box a dozen times to make it through the day.
And here comes the box-cutter. You can see Lohen in the street as you finish up in the shop and say goodbye to Marjorie. You ignore the fluttering in your stomach as you push open the door and step out into the street.
Lohen laughs before you even get a word out. “My, someone looks unhappy to see me.”
“Someone is very unhappy to see you,” you frown. “What do you want, anyway?”
You had promised yourself you were going to kill him the next time that you saw him, and now you’ve seen him twice without doing anything.
Lohen waves his hand absently. “So rude. How did you like the flower?”
The flower. The reminder makes you dizzy all over again. You hadn’t expected him to bring it up so bluntly. He smiles at you expectantly. It reminds you a bit of a cat that brought a dead bird to its owner and expects praise.
You want to tell him you threw it away. Crushed it in your hands and dropped it in the dirt. Anything like that is better than the truth, that you carefully put it in one of your nice vases in your kitchen.
The silence betrays you.
Lohen’s smile grows, becoming something far more self satisfied. “Aw, you kept it, didn’t you? That’s sweet.”
“I didn’t,” you say reflexively. It comes out weak, blocked by the butterflies that threaten to crawl out of your chest and up your throat. This is humiliating.
His gaze is locked on you, intense in that eerie way it often is. Lohen leans closer again. Your heart speeds up, pounding impossibly faster against your ribs. Disdain gnaws through your gut.
“Where did you put it? Come on, tell me.” Delight and something a little nastier practically oozes off of him.
“You’re making fun of me,” you finally manage to get your wits together enough to plant your hand on his chest and firmly push him away from you. He’s firm. And warm.
Embarrassment and anger and something much worse burns hot on the back of your neck. You want to fold in on yourself a bit, or hit him across the face. Maybe both.
Lohen lets you shove him with a faint laugh, taking a step away. “I’m not making fun of you, I want to know where you put it.”
The distance he puts between you isn’t enough. You drop your hand quickly. If you weren’t in the middle of the square, you might have dragged him by his hair again. It wouldn’t deter him, but it would make you feel a little better.
“The trash,” you step back too. The truth is too much. All of this is too much. You hate him. Both as a person and for the way that he’s making you feel.
“No, I don’t believe that’s true. Look, your ears are red,” Lohen coos. “That’s adorable. Is it in your kitchen? Living room?”
Your skin burns hotter. You don’t respond to his taunts. For a moment, the square fades away as your heart skips in indignation. It happens faster than you can think not to. You certainly don’t expect to do it, not here at least, and seemingly neither does he.
A sharp crack rings out. Lohen’s face has gone blank, head turned to the side, an angry red mark blossoming on his cheek. A few people turn your way, surprised by the outburst. You’re surprised too.
Lohen’s gaze slides slowly to you, unreadable in a way that makes your already rapidly pounding heart speed up. “Huh,” he rubs his jaw as he considers you. The stare makes you dizzy.
Whatever he sees in your expression morphs his own to an amused grin, but the edges are sharp. “Not nice,” he chides. People are watching.
“Stop it. Whatever you’re trying to pull, it’s not funny,” you grit out. Your words are the first thing to ever get through his head because his grin fades just so.
“I’m not trying to be funny,” his hand falls to his side. “I’m serious. But, ah,” he glances around, “as much as I love when you get rough, let’s take this somewhere else.”
You hadn’t realized how many people were watching. You shouldn’t be surprised. You slapped not any random knight, but Lohen. Well known vice captain Lohen. And then you yelled at him. If you weren’t so frustrated and flustered, this might be the worst day of your life.
Lohen raises his voice and looks away from you. “Lovers quarrel,” he waves. “We’re on our way.”
Lovers quarrel, he says. That awful tangle in your gut writhes and tightens. Lohen hums to himself as he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you along. You let him lead you off, weaving through alleys while you glare at his hand around your arm.
He stops somewhere quiet, letting go of you in an alley tucked between two slanted buildings. His smile has lessened now, more appraising than anything else. You cross your arms, waiting for him to speak first.
Silence stretches between the two of you. It’s heavy.
“You’re upset,” Lohen breaks the silence eventually. You resist the urge to snarl a ‘great observation, genius.’ “Why?” he asks, genuinely confused in the same way someone prods at something curious that they want to physically peel open.
“You can’t seriously be asking why.”
“But I am,” he tilts his head, hair falling to the side. A smile ghosts his lips again. “I know you like me, so what’s the problem?”
The confirmation that he knows your feelings is both a relief and immensely horrifying. It saves you from having to spit it out, but that means the feelings have been acknowledged. Feelings that should have remained only as hate and loathing.
How do you even respond to that? That you truly and deeply hate him and that you made a wish for him to the anemo archon? Right.
The problem is that you like him.
It wouldn’t be so bad if he was someone like Kaeya. Teasing, but friendly. They’re both reliable. The difference is Lohen’s other behavior. Reckless. Sadistic. Masochistic. Unsettling.
You swallow. “You’re messing with me.”
“Hm?” Lohen raises a brow. “Why would I do that?”
You don’t know. Why wouldn’t he? He’s annoying and takes advantage of anything he can.
“Now that’s just insulting, you think that poorly of me?” He fills the silence. His voice dips in amusement, not offense. In a flash, he’s grabbed hold of your hand. You pull on instinct, but his grip doesn’t falter. Lohen laughs again.
“Let go of me,” you demand.
“Let me take you to dinner,” he ignores you entirely. The words are simple and matter of fact despite the satisfaction coating them. It’s not even phrased like a question.
What? Your arm goes slack in his grip. Chest twisting in on itself, the butterflies shatter into sharp pieces that want to rip their way out of your stomach.
Heat flashes up your back, a reminder of your traitorous heart. He’s looking right at you. Where his hand connects with yours feels alive with sparks, sparks that are crackling and burning your fingertips.
“You’re smiling,” Lohen squeezes your hand. You turn your face away from him, bringing your free hand up to touch your face in surprise. It’s a faint smile, but your mouth curves up. Your guts scrape against each other. It’s getting harder to say no to him.
“I’m not,” you wrestle the smile off your face and try and sweep up the glass butterfly wings inside you. “I really hate you.”
“I’m sure,” Lohen sounds all too pleased with your answer. No matter what you say to him, cruel or kind, it only makes him smile. Getting physical with him does nothing but excite him.
Lohen hums again and shifts his stance slightly to his pretend chivalry. It would make him look friendly if you didn’t know him personally. He lifts your intertwined hands up. You don’t recognize what he’s doing until his lips brush your knuckles and the last defenses you had built up around your heart begin to crumble.
He meets your gaze with his own with a terrible smile. “It’s a date.”
Ah, this is a mistake. You know it is. It displeases you deeply that you know you’re going to let it happen. You should argue with him, say no, anything to put distance between him and your pounding heart.
Instead, you stare where your hands connect. “You’re paying,” is what comes out of your mouth. The words come out flat and a little breathless.
Lohen’s grin gets wider, like the cat who caught the canary. It makes you uneasy. It makes your heart pound with a sort of want that makes you sick to think about for too long.
“Bossy,” he tuts. His hand shifts in yours, fingers splaying against your palm. “I figured I would be.”
“You’re terrible,” you tell him again. The words probably don’t register in his ears anymore.
“I know,” Lohen agrees easily. “The worst. Dinner tomorrow?”
“…Fine.”
Barbatos has a unique way of granting wishes and an awful sense of humor. Well, it doesn’t matter. You have a date tomorrow courtesy of the fountain.
❥ itoshi rin is the biggest cock blocker when it comes to you and his brother / more parts
୨୧ one!
his legs spread, hand in your hair while you suck his thick cock under the table. your eyes are teary and your nails dig into his skin, but you’d do anything to make him happy.
feels so good having his throbbing dick inside you, swallowing around him which leads to a sudden jerk of his hips that ends up with him fucking your dirty mouth.
“can’t you have some fucking manners?” he growls, his call now muted as his manager speaks about his next campaigns. “you’re always so fucking eager” he pants, your throat clenching around him as you give him the head of his life. “keep going— be a good girl f’me” his big hand cups your cheek, fingers caressing your cheekbone as he feels his own dick against your skin.
you moan at the praise and he rolls his eyes in pleasure. before you can finally milk him, the door opens. you jolt and pull away, pretending to look for something under the table. he tucks himself back, growling, phone held between his ear and shoulder while he glares at the interruption — rin.
“isagi told me you’re talking with the manager, wanted to know if i have updates too.” he smiles softly, then arches his eyebrow. “what—?” you stand up, hand on his shoulder “my phone fell, it’s okay”. when you’re about to leave, you feel sae’s teal eyes locked in your form before he glares at his brother again.
୨୧ two!
japan has won their last match, winning asia’s cup. sae and his team are in a party, friends and partners of theirs in there too — of course, you’re next to your boyfriend.
kissing at the rhythm of the beat, britney spears singing about grinding and, indeed, you two are. his hands grope your butt, yours dig into his big biceps. his tongue is devouring you, his knee parting your legs as he presses it against your core. your hips sway, your panties and micro pants drenching at the friction.
“you’re so fucking hot” he pants against your mouth, heavily. those tiny short pants, cheetah print and glittery, leaving half your asscheeks out. you know how much he loves your butt, and he knows you’ve done it on purpose. you smile, nose brushing against his, “i know”
sae growls and dives back in, hands on your hips steadying you. you moan into his mouth when the friction gets heavier, when your pussy starts throbbing in need. when you’re about to leave to a restroom, a familiar face approaches with a light stick and two drinks.
“[name]! got this for ya!” rin yells, clearly drunk. you blink, but sae’s growled curses pull you out of the trance. you smile thankfully, “this is my favourite” and then rin drags you to dance because he thought you were talking about the song.
୨୧ three!
sae drags you into the locker room before he has to leave to warm up, all his teammates already on the field. he smiles before kissing you, “didn’t know you were coming” between stolen breaths.
“of course” you giggle, his hands roaming over your body, adoring you in that tight tank top that’s hugging you. he leans down to kiss your neck, his thumbs caressing right beneath your breasts under the fabric. “to distract me?” he whispers against skin, you grin while he kisses the exposed skin of your chest, “to cheer you, silly”
sae humms against you, pressing you closer, face buried between your tits. your hand caresses his red hair as you tilt your head back in pleasure.
“sae! the coach is looking for— oh” rin runs into the locker room, blinking when he watches you. you smile shyly and kiss sae briefly, a soft press of your lips against his. “sorry, was wishing him luck.. hope you guys win” you say softly as you pass by rin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“i’m gonna kick you instead of the ball” sae growls lowly at his brother as they walk towards the field.
chigiri hyoma — does the carpets match the drapes?
sypnosis: chigiri catches you taking care of your hair improperly, and you offer to brush his hair.
warnings: nsfw, aged up!chigiri (18+), smut, unprotected sex (p in v), slight hair pulling kink, light degradation, light humiliation, oral sex (m recieving/blowjob), sub!chigiri
you hum a soft melody, both quiet and effortless, as you pick up the towel from the metal bar. the towel is slightly damp from the humidity in the air from your shower, which your boyfriend always seems to complain is way too hot for your own good, and the fabric nestles in your hold as you bend over. you mindlessly straighten out the towel before laying it over the back of your head, just about to wrap it around your hair in order for it to dry. but before your hand can even begin to wrap the free-hanging cloth around your hair at the bottom, you hear the click of a tongue behind you.
your humming stops, but your actions don't, and you hear another click.
"tch, you know that towel is bad for your hair," chigiri points out, the sass so subtle that you almost don't catch it in his monotone voice. it's only natural that your boyfriend would catch you almost damaging your hair, and you roll your eyes fondly, but he can't see that with the way you're bent over and your hair shielding you from his gaze. "what happened to the towel that i gave you? y'know, the micro-fiber one?"
"relax, hyo, i've used regular towels for drying my hair since like—forever," regardless of you wanting to just wrap your hair and get it over with, you halt your hands and lift yourself up to face chigiri upright. "and to answer your question, it's been sitting in the closet for a while..."
chigiri shifts his wait to one leg, arms crossed across his chest as he lifts an eyebrow at you. his hair is already mostly dried, still damp as he just took his hair out of his micro-fiber towel. he was on his way to the bathroom, where you had just finished your shower, to blow dry the remaining moisture in his hair. before you, he flicks his head to the side as he says sarcastically, "in the closet? okay, i see someone doesn't appreciate my efforts."
you stifle a giggle as you practically throw yourself in chigiri's direction, and his arms instinctively uncross to catch you. his previous demeanor, sassy and bratty, dissipates briskly as he turns his head towards you again with a grin forming on his face.
"hyo, nooo!" you finally let out your suppressed giggle as you feel his arms wrap around the curve of your waist, your hands finding purchase on his chest. "it was just so soft... i didn't wan' ruin it."
your eyes trail up from his chest, meeting the gaze of his pretty pink irises. unsurprisingly, you find his expression to be content, but his voice tries hard to pretend that he's mad at you. "that's the point, pretty girl. the softness is supposed to be better for your hair."
you giggle in faux bashfulness, now focusing on the dampness of his hair. the violet-red strands of his are still slightly tangled, and you assume that he was just about to detangle it again before blow drying the rest. "hyo," you trail a hand up his face, pushing a section of hair behind his ear, "can i brush your hair?"
his prior confidence falters slightly, a blush dusting over his cheeks as he trails his eyes away from yours. in truth, he's unsure; his hair's a tender thing to care for. his lips curve into a pout, "sure," he mumbles quiet and under his breath. but he doesn't miss the way your eyes light up, immediately hoisting yourself up atop the bathroom counter.
"c'mere, princess," you joke affectionately. it earns a groan and a roll of the eyes in response, but he's not mad. chigiri could never be mad at you. the hair brush is already within your fingers' grasp as you reach for the pretty boy's hair. he steps forward with slight hesitation. once situated in front of you and between your legs, chigiri rotates with his back facing you.
the tip of your fingers reach forward to the top of his head, the bathroom counter aiding in reaching his height. chigiri shudders when he feels the warmth of your fingers ghost his hairline, lightly dragging the hair that frames his face back. only once all his hair is situated behind him, you take hold of the ends, a violet-red waterfall right within your hand. you fight the urge to smell his hair, hoping to catch the fresh-floral scent of his shampoo.
you're sure to brush his hair correctly and tenderly, fully aware of how much pride chigiri holds. you start with the ends, controlling the brush so the bristles carefully detangle without breaking the strands. once the ends are detangled, you repeat the process in horizontal sections of his hair until you reach his roots. then, you take a part of his hair and brush from root to end, the brush getting caught in a missed knot in his hair.
it doesn't break, but you hear a sharp inhale from the boy in front of you. "you okay, hyo? did that hurt?"
"no," he whispers stiffly, "kind of." his voice sounds a little strained—and you don't see the red that coats his cheeks. the color almost matches his hair. chigiri doesn't admit that he likes it—the sharp pain of his roots getting tugged at. but you get suspicious with the little grunts he lets out as you keep finding missed knots.
"baby, turn around," you say suddenly, hands dropping from his hair. you let the brush down on the counter and lean slightly back, hands now perched on your thighs. chigiri mentally curses himself as he processes your command—and he knows your suspicion will only grow if he chooses to walk straight out the bathroom. he sighs before turning towards you, tensed shoulders falling.
what meets you is the sight of your boyfriend blushing as if he's developed a fever—and a prominent erection beneath his sweatpants. chigiri groans as soon as he sees the corners of your lips tug into a smirk, hands coming to cover his face in embarrassment.
you're about to say something—mention something about the hard-on that he's obviously gotten just from the tugs of brushing his hair—until he presses a hand to your mouth. "don't. it's embarrassing enough."
he feels the grin that presses up against his hand, and he feels pathetic when he feels your hands reach around his wrists. you push him away slightly, enough so you can jump off the counter. but he's left no time to react when you suddenly switch standing positions, pushing him to lean against the bathroom counter. chigiri's left speechless when your hand travels up his shirt, pawing at the firm of his abs. "y'know, hyo, i've always wanted to see if down there's the same."
chigiri flushes instantly at your innuendo, hands finding the wrist that's currently trying to get down his pants. "you've seen it before, stop acting like you haven't."
"that doesn't mean i've taken the time to fully process and appreciate it," your words are innocent in form, but vulgar in nature; it has chigiri's mind spiraling. and he's rendered with the inability to move as he watches you drop to your knees. right there. on the bathroom floor.
once you're down and comfortable, your eyes shift. not only to look at him—but they actually shift—a hint of lust in your eyes. a whimper falls from chigiri's mouth when he feels your fingers dip beneath his waistband, nails softly raking against the skin of his lower abdomen and pelvis. your fingers hook on the bands, pulling both his sweats and boxers down in a smooth and swift motion. your mouth salivates at what greets you in return, not only chigiri's cock hard and twitching, but the field of violet-red that litters his pelvis.
the hairs are relatively short, no doubt that it's been recently shaved, but they're grown out enough to feel soft to the touch. touch. chigiri fucking moans when he feels your finger trail down. the sound shoots straight to your core, and you feel arousal pooling at your panties. he thinks you've already killed him—until your lips make contact just beneath his belly button.
you contract your tongue into a point, trailing down his happy trail just until you make contact with the base of his cock. chigiri hears the sound you make as you smirk, tongue still rested at his base. and he cries out when he feels your tongue lick a stripe back up. "s'pretty, baby. guess the carpets do match the drapes."
"please shut the hell up," he closes his eyes shut as he feels you repeat the motion. he keeps his eyes like that, feeling you tease his pelvis over and over again—until he can feel your lips enclose around the side of his dick, tongue poking between. your lips trail up the side of his cock until it reaches the tip, enveloping the head in the warmth of your mouth. chigiri's eyes are wide open, head snapping down to look at the pure filth that you have on display. your mouth feels so damn fucking good.
chigiri whines out your name as you take more of him in, and he feels how your tongue flattens out against his frenulum. his sounds are so pretty, and he's much more vocal than he'd like to admit. his voice is breathy, yet still raspy, and they increase in volume every time he feels you hallow your cheeks, walls caging around his cock. it's so good, and he barely seems to realize the little amounts of precum that ooze out of his cock and straight onto your tongue. the salty taste melts on your tastebuds, and you moan around his cock that has chigiri clawing at the edges of the counter.
chigiri's searching for anything that'll ground him to reality—anything that'll help delay his pending orgasm. the knot in his stomach has already formed and he's dreading how his cock twitches in turn, only signaling you further to keep bobbing your head on his dick. he's hyperaware of your hands now on his hips, keeping his body trapped between you and the surface behind him, and he's fighting the urge to fuck your face.
"ah—fuck—baby... think i'm gonna—" chigiri barely pants the words out before you pop your head off his dick.
"hold it."
you're so fucking cruel. your mouth slithers over his cock again before taking him in again, and the knot tightens. your mouth is so wet, warm, and fucking sinful. he throws his head back when he feels the tip of his cock meet the roof of your mouth, dragging against the jagged surface until he feels that knot about to break. "baby! gonna—gonna—c—cum!" you almost pity the boy with the way his words slur together as proof of his coming undone. but before he can reach that peak, you pull away from him completely, both your hands and your mouth.
chigiri is utterly confused, dazed and almost tearful at the loss of pleasure. he was so close. "wha—ah!"
before he can complain, you spin him around and you perch yourself atop the counter again. you drag your shorts off your legs, followed by your panties. they're both left discarded somewhere on the ground as you find purchase on chigiri's arm, pulling his body towards yours. he quivers when he feels the head of his cock poke at your bare thigh, and when he feels your hand grab the base, he lets out a laugh that's soon followed by a low moan.
chigiri wants to say something—anything that'll give him a break to regain some type of control over the situation. but that chance is stolen from him when he feels you guide his cock into your cunt, tip pushing past your lips and into you inch by inch. your hand ghosts over the line of his jaw as you direct his face to yours. but instead of kissing him right away, you bring his ear to your lips.
"do it fast, hyo," you purr, "i know that's your specialty."
the submissiveness that held his mind captive is overtaken by the rush your new command gives, and chigiri feels as if he's been repurposed with the opportunity to ruin you. and he wastes no time in doing so.
whatever that was left remaining of his dick to be pushed inside you disappears instantly with the thrust he sends you. he shoves his remaining length into your pussy in a swift thrust, and doesn't let you recover from the shock—he's already pulling back out only to dive back in. your whines in his ear mimic a siren's singing, and he's tempted to take you back to your shared bedroom and finish there. however, lust has exceeded his residing rationality; he's going to take you here and now.
chigiri doesn't half-ass your command either, he's following it down to the letter. his hips pound into yours with the same speed that he puts out on the field, and he has to shift his weight onto his arms that lie rest on the counter's surface. but despite the sheer speed he puts into his thrusts, they're still calculated, precise—hard.
"hyoma—doing s'good, yeah?" you moan into his neck, breath fanning over his flushed skin. "you're so dirty... following exactly what i say like this. ah—!"
chigiri lands a particularly hard thrust to that mushy spot that gets you dumb. "shut up, you fuckin' minx. you're the one who's dirty."
his prior subspace is all but gone, and he's filled with such pride. he feeds you with thrusts straight to that one spot, and you choke at how easily he finds it in each thrust. your walls clench around him, almost as if they're sucking him in for more. "acting as if you didn't provoke me on purpose... you're the one whose pussy is squeezing me like a damn vice."
you moan at the filth of his words. the crudeness, the venom, the vulgarity—it has you soaking his cock in arousal. he feels it—feels the way your pussy squeezes harder at each word that he barks at you, the way you're closer and closer to biting his neck in order to muffle your own sounds, the way your pussy gets wetter by the second—all because of him. it has chigiri intoxicated. he thinks you may as well be a fucking drug.
he thinks he's doing good, so close to breaking you—until he feels it. the knot forms up again, and it feels even more tight in his pelvis than before. the sensitivity from his prior climb to his climax returns, and you're not entirely dumb yet. you feel the way chigiri's cock twitches inside your walls, erratic and desperate. poor boy. he really thought he had control over you.
"baby... baby—! gonna cum! please lemme cum—please, i'll be good!" he whines out to you, begging desperately to chase his high.
you consider it for a moment, acting as if the knot hasn't begun to form inside of you as well. you smile with an underlying evil, "yeah? just a 'lil longer, can do?"
almost instantly, "no. no can do. please—!" you clench around him hard. "you—evil woman—ah!"
the tightness in his core finally unravels in a series of short, intense bursts. chigiri's cum pours into you in erratic, uneven beats as his climax hits him. he moans like a fucking dog in heat, and you bring his lips to yours. the kiss doesn't do much to muffle him, but you attempt to swallow his sounds regardless. his hips stutter, your pussy milking his cock of every last drop of cum he has to offer. and your climax follows shortly after, moaning into his mouth same as him.
the contractions of your pussy as you cum feeds into overstimulation for chigiri, and he cries into your mouth. but the two of you stay like that, on the bathroom counter, for a while, basking in each other's afterglow. the silence is interrupted by a chuckle from you.
"i think we need another shower."
a/n: this was written for one of my irl friends... i hope u enjoy my sweet girl hehehe (psa the actual smut was kinda rushed its 5am rn im sry...)
"no, he would not be soft to you, he would actually kill you-" dooooon't care, make that man sobbing pathetically on his knees as he begs for you to stay.
I really have no idea what came over me to draw these but I had to do it, and now you have to suffer the consequences
He heard Uraume unwrap food packages
Rin Itoshi and the way he shows affection through your favorite food or drink. Just sliding a specific snack across the table without a word, his expression cold and bored, muttering a lie about it being a "mistake" because he'd rather die than admit that he stood in the store aisle for minutes just to find the exact one you like.
Rin Itoshi and the way he stiffens the moment you lean against him, his entire body going rigid. He always complains about you being clingy, but he never moves away. Instead, he subconsciously tilts his head toward you, letting himself be soft only for you.
Rin Itoshi and the way he walks beside you always half a step ahead, acting like he's in a rush. The moment you lag behind he stops dead in his tracks and waits silently for you, unable to move forward unless you're with him.
Rin Itoshi and the way he pulls you into his insane routines. Forcing you to do yoga or stretch with him under the guise that your posture is terrible and it annoys him. Pushing you down gently but firmly by your shoulders, his hands lingering a bit too long on your skin and his breathing rough against your ear as he guides your movements. That may lead to something else..
Rin Itoshi and the way he forces you to rest the moment he decides you've been working too hard. Ignoring your protests and pushing your head down onto his lap as his pretty fingers tangle into your hair to keep you pinned there.
Rin Itoshi and the way he guides you through a crowd by resting his hand on the back of your neck, fingers digging slightly into your skin. Steering you through the rush, his eyes glaring at anyone who dares to get too close to you.
Rin Itoshi and the way he gets angry when you say something bad about yourself, like you said the stupidest thing in the world. He'll just stare you down and tell you that his standards are high and the fact that he chose you means you're perfect.
Rin Itoshi and the way he uses his sharp tongue to hide his worry for you. Snapping at you for being careless or frowning deeply the second you look tired. Instead, he may shove a drink in your hand with an annoyed look, refusing to look away until your color comes back. He acts like your weakness irritates him but your well-being is the only thing he's truly focused on.
Rin Itoshi and the way he reacts when you compliment him. His eyes widening before he quickly turns his head, an angry flush creeping up his neck and ears. Scowling at you or calling you an idiot for stating the obvious. A single compliment from you is all it takes to completely shatter his composure.
Rin Itoshi and the way he lingers by the door when he needs to leave, staring down at you with an intense, irritated look until you finally take the hint and go to kiss him goodbye, only for him to grip your chin and deepen the kiss aggressively because he hates the thought of leaving you for a long period of time.
Rin Itoshi and the way he acts jealous by stepping right into your space as his shoulder is blocking you from their view. Glaring at them and holding your fingers tight. He's claiming you as his without ever having to say a word.
Rin Itoshi and the way he cuddles you at night, holding you against his chest the second you try to move away. His grip tight even in his sleep, locking you against him like you might vanish. Holding you this close is his only security.
Rin Itoshi and the way he invades your space. Kicking your feet out of the way on the couch only to rest his own heavy legs over yours, leaving you no room to move away from him. Acting like he's taking up space when he really just makes sure every part of him is touching you.
Rin Itoshi and the way he gets competitive over your attention. He will narrow his eyes the moment you start mentioning someone else, interrupting you to desperately pull your focus back to him. He needs to be the only thing you ever think about.
Rin Itoshi and the way he claims your things. Taking your keys or your phone out of your hands and casually dropping them into his own pockets when you're out together. Acting like it's just because you're careless and might lose them, when really he just likes the subtle control of carrying your world around in his jacket.
;; boyfriend!hinata tracking the exact angle of the afternoon sun hitting your bedroom bed just so he can drag the mattress straight onto the floor, pulling you down into the warm patch of light with him like a giant, golden lizard. he’ll tangle his legs with yours, bury his face in your hair, and just sigh against your skin until the sun goes down, completely content to waste a whole training day if it means absorbing your warmth.
;; boyfriend!hinata having this incredibly specific habit of testing his finger calluses against the softest parts of your skin. you’ll be sitting at the kitchen island and he’ll come up behind you, his hands—rough and hardened from years of slamming against volleyballs—tracing the sensitive curve of your inner wrist or the skin just under your jaw. he does it so gently, a contrast that makes your stomach flip because he knows exactly how much power those hands hold, yet they’re entirely soft for you.
;; boyfriend!hinata speaking to you in a sleepy, unbothered mix of japanese and portuguese when he’s waking up. his voice is a full octave lower in the mornings, a raspy, thick murmur against your bare shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest. he’ll call you ‘minha vida’ while sleepily biting at your shoulder blade, his grip tightening around your waist.
;; boyfriend!hinata being completely obsessed with laundry day, specifically because he loves the routine of it. you’ll find him sitting on the floor surrounded by clean sheets, casually tossing one of his oversized practice jerseys over your head while you’re walking past. he loves seeing you swallowd whole by his clothes, especially when he catches you later sniffing the collar because it smells like his citrus deodorant. he’ll just smirk, pull you by the hem of the shirt onto his lap, and whisper something terribly cocky about how good you look wearing his name.
;; boyfriend!hinata using his insane athletic reflexes for the absolute dumbest, most affectionate things. if you trip over a rug, he catches you by the waist, spins you in the air, and presses you flat against the nearest wall, laughing that bright, breathless laugh of his. his face will be inches from yours, his chest heaving slightly, his eyes dropping to your lips with a sudden, heavy intensity that reminds you he isn’t a kid anymore.
;; boyfriend!hinata taking care of your skin after a long day at the beach. he gets so meticulous about it, making you sit between his knees while he carefully rubs cooling aloe or coconut lotion into your shoulders. his thumb will track the line of your tan lines, his touch slowing down, growing heavier and more deliberate until the room feels a little too warm, his breath fanning hot against the back of your neck as he whispers praises about how beautiful your body looks under the sun.
;; boyfriend!hinata’s absolute favorite way to tease you during his off-season. he’ll be sitting on the sofa playing a game on his phone, and he’ll casually pull you down so you’re straddling his lap, using you as a literal armrest. he acts completely nonchalant, talking to you normally while his large hands slide under the hem of your shorts, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your thighs. he won’t even look up from his screen, but the hot, possessive squeeze he gives your hip every time you try to move away lets you know exactly where his attention really is.
;; boyfriend!hinata being completely incapable of keeping his hands to himself the second you step foot onto a crowded bus. he’ll pull you into the small space between his chest and the door, shielding you from the crowd with his broad shoulders while the bus sways. with one hand gripping the overhead strap, his free hand slides down to cup the back of your thigh, his fingers squeezing firmly through your pants. he’ll lean down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs—low and raspy over the roar of the engine—about how good you smell, completely intoxicated by the mix of your perfume and the heat of the afternoon.
;; boyfriend!hinata turning a simple evening walk along the secluded edge of the beach into something entirely different. he’ll drag you into the shadow of a dark lifeguard tower, pinning your lower back against the cool wooden stilts. while the sound of the crashing waves hides your gasps, he’ll bury his face entirely in the crook of your neck, inhaling you like he’s starving. his hands will slide under your top, his rough palms dragging hot over your ribs, and he’ll growl softly against your skin about how he can taste the salt on you, demanding you tell him how much you love him before he kisses you again without even letting you catch your breath.
;; boyfriend!hinata using his knowledge of launguages on dirty talking to completely break your brain when you’re in bed. he’s so loud and unbothered normally, but in the dark, his praise becomes this heavy, suffocating thing. he’ll pin your wrists above your head with just one hand, hovering over you with those dark, hyper-focused eyes, and he’ll praise you for every little sound you make. “sim, precisely like that, look at how well you’re taking me,” he’ll mutter in a breathless rush of portuguese and japanese, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper against your lips as he tells you how beautiful you look when you’re completely undone for him.
;; boyfriend!hinata’s feral habit of scent-marking you right before he leaves for an away tournament. he’ll trap you on the bed, his heavy body pinning yours down as he spends an entire hour just rubbing his jaw along your collarbone, biting gently at your shoulder blades, and leaving hot, wet kisses along your pulse point until you smell completely like him. if you try to squirm, he’ll just tighten his grip, his thighs locking yours in place, whispering praises about how good of a girl you are for letting him take his time with you.
;; boyfriend!hinata taking a massive risk at a crowded post-match afterparty. he’ll pull you into a dimly lit hallway just around the corner from the main room where his teammates are laughing loudly. he’ll press you against the wall, lifting you up by your thighs so your legs are wrapped around his waist. you can hear the bass thumping through the wall and people walking past the entrance, but hinata just smirks, his thumb wiping a tear of overstimulation from your cheek as he whispers, “shh, be quiet, you don’t wanna let them hear how good i make you feel. right, minha vida?”
;; boyfriend!hinata tracking your cycle or just knowing when your body temperature runs hot, entirely driven by his sense of smell. he’ll walk into the apartment after a grueling six-hour practice, drop his gear bag on the floor, and immediately track you down to wherever you’re sitting. before you can even say welcome home, he’s gently parting your thighs on the chair, burying his face directly into the heat of the soft dip of your inner thigh through your underwear. he’ll take a long, dragging inhale of your scent, his pupils completely blown as he groans against your bare skin, his large hands reaching under your top to grip your waist hard enough to leave faint marks, telling you exactly how ruined the bed is about to be.
;; boyfriend!hinata taking advantage of a completely empty, sun-drenched locker room after everyone else has left the training facility. he’ll lock the heavy door from the inside, trap you against the cold metal of his locker, and pull your shorts down to your knees in one rough, impatient motion. with the distinct smell of fresh sweat, laundry detergent, and leather volleyballs filling the air, he’ll lift your leg over his hip and drive into you right there, the sudden, thick friction making you scream into his shoulder. he’ll instantly choke off your voice with a wet, bruising kiss, his hips slamming into yours with that terrifying, rhythmic endurance while he mutters breathless, filthiest praises into your mouth—“take it all, look at how tight you are for me. you like that everyone's right outside, huh, sweetheart?” he’ll grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “look at me while i fuck you senseless, meu amor.”
n: everyone on discord kept distracting me. but i did get their opinions on this one. it was my twin’s idea for the scent marking, shout ot freaky twin.
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