A master list of all my fanfiction that doesn’t fit in other categories, arranged newest to oldest. All fics have Fem Readers and contain smut unless otherwise noted! My works are for adults only!
Love + Potion (Black Clover) (Yami as a Werewolf, Oral Sex, Size Kink)
You work at a bar Yami frequents and so you’re nearby when he decides to try a potion that turns him into a werewolf for 24 hours. It also happens to make him extremely horny.
Good Vibes (Kaiju no. 8) (Use of Toys/Vibrator, Humiliation, Voyeurism)
The new vibrator you ordered gets mistakenly delivered to the guy who lives in the dorm room next to yours: your crush Narumi Gen.
Favorite Movie (Ghostface/Scream) (Short Fic, Fluff, NO SMUT!)
You get a mysterious phone call from a man asking you what your favorite scary movie is.
Playing With Fire (JJK/Bungou Stray Dogs Crossover) (Threesome, Bondage, Rough Sex)
You’re on vacation with your two hot boyfriends (Dazai and Gojo), but decide to be a brat just to get their reactions. A decision you might regret.
The scratching of your quill was the only familiar sound in the cramped alcove of the Black Bulls’ headquarters, yet the familiar rhythm did little to ease the erratic thumping of your heart.
You were drowning in a sea of parchment that included reimbursement forms for pulverized stone, invoices for countless magical repairs, and a particularly scathing letter from the Magic Parliament.
Ugh. These Black Bulls.
The stress had reached a fever pitch minutes ago when, in a fit of shaky-handed abrupt frustration, you’d knocked over the heavy crystal inkwell. The dark fluid had blossomed across the desk like an ebony bloodstain, soaking into the front of your thin white blouse.
Now, the fabric clung to every full, heavy curve of your chest, nipples perked and shamelessly outlined by the indigo-stained silk.
Lovely. What's better than being stressed and damp.
The real joke was you didn't have time to change... pft, you barely had time to breathe.
The air started to feel heavy then, saturated with the smell of old dust and the faint, metallic tang of the squad’s lingering mana.
Your vision was starting to blur at the edges, numbers swimming around the page, when all of a sudden, the floorboards in front of you groaned and sank inwards.
A shadow swallowed your desk completely snuffing out the flickering candlelight and replacing the scent of old paper with the sharp, musk-heavy aroma of cheap tobacco and sun-warmed leather.
You didn't even have to look up to feel the oppressive gravity of Captain Yami.
He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there filling the entryway, cigarette cherry glowing dull orange in the gloom like a tiny ember of hell. Smoke curled lazily upward, almost taunting.
“Yer' still at it,” he finally said, voice rolling out low and thick with sarcasm. “Sunrise to now. You look like someone fucked your entire week and forgot the lube.”
You didn’t look up. Kept scratching.
“Someone did. That someone is currently blocking my light and smelling like an ashtray had sex with a saddle. If I don’t make these numbers behave, Julius is going to hang my head in the royal gallery next to your wanted poster. With a little plaque that says ‘Here lies the woman who tried to teach Yami Sukehiro fiscal responsibility.’”
He snorted; a thick plume of grey smoke drifted over your shoulder and curled around your neck like a languid noose. Then he stepped closer. Close enough that the heat radiating off his frame pressed against you like an open furnace door. His cape was hanging open, rippling pectorals rising slow and steady, the faint metallic clink of his belt buckle brushing the front of your desk like he was daring you to notice. He towered over the desk, placing one calloused palm down onto the wood before leaning in and over you.
“Julius wouldn’t care if you turned the whole kingdom into a gravel pit. He’d probably commission a statue of the crater and call it avant-garde. But you?” Another slow drag, the cherry flared as ash snowed down onto you work. “You’re rattling so hard I can hear your damn heartbeat from the hallway. It’s annoying as fuck. I came in here for a quiet smoke and instead I get a front-row seat to your private meltdown.”
You finally snapped your head up, hair whipping across his scarred arm like a challenge.
“Oh I’m so fucking sorry, Your Majesty of Brooding. Is my very important attempt to keep this squad from financial ruin interrupting your sacred ‘lean against the wall and look mysterious’ routine? Should I pencil my nervous breakdowns in after your third pack of the day, or do you want me to just scream into a pillow so it doesn’t bruise your delicate ears?”
His grin unfurled around the cigarette sharp as hell, all teeth and smoke.
“There she is. Knew that razor mouth was still kicking under all the prim little spreadsheets. Keep talkin' like that and I might actually start enjoying your company, rabbit.”
You shoved the chair back hard—fuck this, fuck him, fuck the whole goddamn national debt—but with one quick sidestep his hand slammed down on the armrest with enough force that the wood let out a sharp, protesting creak.
You were pinned.
Chest heaving against the ink-soaked blouse.
“Sit. Your. Fine. Ass. Down.”
The words landed heavy. You glared up at him with your pulse hammering visibly in your throat, and he just leaned in until his face eclipsed everything else. Dark eyes tracking the frantic flutter at the base of your neck, the slight sheen of sweat forming on your chest, the way your soft lips parted on a half-formed curse.
“You’re wound so tight I’m surprised your ribs haven’t cracked yet,” he murmured as he dropped his voice into that throaty, gravel-deep register that always made your thighs clench. “If I let you keep going you’re gonna pop something important and bleed all over my already disgusting reports, and I’m not in the mood to play coroner today. So we’re handling this my way.”
Before you could spit another barb he grabbed the chair arms and yanked hard, dragging you and the whole chair forward until your knees slammed into his thighs and your ass was almost fully off the chair.
He kicked a low stool over with the toe of his boot, dropped onto it so hard the legs groaned in surrender, then forced your legs apart in one smooth movement with his own massive ones.
Rough trousers scraped the sensitive insides of your thighs as your skirt rode up in slow, inevitable defeat.
“Captain, if you think for one second—”
“Shut that pretty, filthy mouth for once.” One huge hand wrapped around your jaw, tilting your head back until you had no choice but to meet his unblinking eyes.
“You need to surpass your goddamn limits, rabbit. But you fight with ink instead of magic, so we’re burning all that frantic energy out slow... Real slow.”
The way he smiled after that should've been fucking illegal.
He hooked both massive hands under your thighs, letting his fingers sink deep into plush, generous flesh, engulfing you with deliberate care—then hauled you upwards inch by inch until your soaked cunt hovered right at the level of his mouth. The drenched lace of your panties clung transparently to the swollen folds; and no, of course, he didn’t rip them off you.
The brute peeled them off with torturous patience, first pulling them up taut, then sliding them down, but not before letting the soaked fabric drag over your clit in a slow, slick glide that made your hips jerk and a traitorous hiss escape between your teeth.
He paused above you, hot breath ghosting over your exposed sex in rhythmic exhales. He closed his eyes, and savored it for what felt like hours.
In the end, the first real touch wasn’t even his tongue. It was just the barest brush of his stubble against the crease of your inner thigh.
You sucked in a breath and he felt it, felt the way your muscles tensed under his palms.
“Look at you,” he mumbled against your skin, husky voice vibrating through every nerve. “Talkin' all that big shit, n'you’re already tremblin' just from my face being close. Pathetic.”
You laughed low and edged with pure defiance. “Says the man who dropped to his knees faster than a rookie knight at knighthood ceremony. Who’s pathetic now, Cap'n? The guy who gets rock-hard at the smell of stressed-out pussy, or the girl who’s about to make you work for every moan?”
His eyes flashed, pleased this time.
“Keep running that mouth, smartass. I’ve got all night.”
Then he leaned in slow—agonizingly slow, and finally touched down.
At first it was just the flat, scorching width of his tongue pressing against your entrance in one long, unhurried drag upward.
That single, heavy stroke parted your folds and collected every drop of arousal on the way, ending with the most perfect, barely-there pressure against your clit before retreating.
It was perfect. And you had to hold yourself back from moaning out loud.
This big bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
You couldn't stop your hips twitching forward instinctively, but he tightened his grip on your thighs, holding you exactly where he wanted you. He grinned as he exhaled, catching your gaze before he leaned back down and took you in his mouth again. Even slower. The second pass took forever. He flattened his tongue and dragged it up again, letting you feel every budded ridge, every deliberate press. When he reached your clit he stayed there this time, resting the broad heat of the thick muscle against it, this time letting the warmth seep in until the curve of your belly started to quiver and your breath came in quiet pants.
“You’re shakin' already,” he purred, lips brushing and kissing your slick folds as he spoke. “Haven’t even really started and your greedy little cunt’s already clenching like it’s trying to pull me in. Tell me again how I’m the pathetic one?”
You gripped the arms of the chair so hard your knuckles cracked.
“Fuck you,” you breathed, but it came out more moan than curse. “You’re enjoying this too much, you sadistic bastard.”
“Damn right I am, rabbit.” Another long, lackadaisical lick from bottom to top, ending with the faintest swirl around your clit.
“Watchin' you fall apart slow is better than any cigarette.”
The man took his time, like he did with everything else.
His tongue worked in long, swirling laps that covered every inch of your heat kissed skin. Tracing the outer lips first, then dipping just inside your entrance to taste deeper, then retreating to circle your clit with pressure that never quite gave you what you needed.
Every time your hips tried to chase his mouth he pulled back just enough to make you whine, then rewarded the sound with another slow drag of his tongue.
Minutes passed like pure, drawn-out torment. The wet sounds filled the cramped alcove and your mind followed suit. All you could hear was the slick glide of his tongue, and the low rumble in his throat when you cursed him, and now, your own ragged breathing and half-muffled pleas you refused to fully voice joined the fray.
The sensation was endless. His stubble scraped the tender skin of your inner thighs with every pass, leaving faint marks that burned sweetly. His hands never loosened either. His thumbs pressed deep dimples into your flesh, holding you spread and vulnerable.
When he finally focused on your clit, it was merciless in its patience. He sucked the swollen bud between his lips gentle at first, just enough suction to make your toes curl, then released it with a soft, wet pop.
Again.
And again. Each time a little firmer, a little longer, until your knees were trembling uncontrollably and your curses had turned into broken, breathless laughs.
“Still think you can out-talk me?” he murmured against you, voice wrecked and smug. “Or you ready to admit you need this as bad as I want to give it?”
You glared down at him chest heaving, blouse askew.
“Make me cum so hard I forget how to count coins, you overgrown smoke stack. Then we’ll talk about w-who needs who.”
He growled into your folds and the grip on your thighs turned punishing fast as his fingers dug in harder until the ache bloomed into something almost sweet. He quickly anchored you a little higher, hips canted exactly where he wanted while his shoulders rolled forward, spreading you wider against the chair. The weak candlelight caught the sheen already coating his chin and the dark stubble framing his mouth; his pupils were blown so wide the irises had vanished, leaving only hungry black staring up at you.
“Challenge accepted, rabbit.”
And then he shifted tactics entirely.
First came the heat of his open mouth sealing over your entire fucking cunt and enveloping you fully. His lips were pressed firm against your outer folds, the faint suction of his breathing pulled your swollen lips inward in tiny pulses. You felt the soft inner skin flutter towards the roof of his mouth, then the slow drag of his tongue finding its place and resting just beneath your entrance, letting your own arousal drip onto it in slow beads.
He hummed once, deep and satisfied, and the vibration rolled straight through your spine, making your walls clench hard enough to force another trickle down onto his tongue. He swallowed it deliberately, the motion of his throat visible even from your angle, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took you in like fine liquor.
Then he tilted his head—just enough.
The bridge of his nose settled against your clit and pressed while his tongue finally moved, but not in long licks. Instead he curled it upward against your entrance, each curl stretching and pressing you open a fraction more, letting you feel the thick muscle flex and retreat, flex and retreat, never fully withdrawing. The rhythm was hypnotic: press, hold, release, press, hold, release. Paired with the constant grind of his nose against your clit, it built a deep, deep pressure that radiated. Everywhere.
Your breathing fractured. Sweat slid down the valley between your breasts, basically re-soaking the ruined blouse until the fabric turned nearly transparent. The chair groaned beneath you every time your hips rolled; the wood was slick now from where your arousal had dripped past his mouth and pooled beneath you.
He reveled in it.
One scarred hand slid up the outside of your thigh, over the soft swell of your hip, then higher—cupping the heavy underside of one breast through the wet cloth. His thumb brushed once across your nipple, so delicately, then pinched just hard enough to make your back arch and your cunt flutter around the slow curl of his tongue still fucking its way inside you.
“These are fucking obscene,” he growled against you, voice muffled. “Been thinkin' about getting my teeth on 'em since you started snapping at me 'bout budgets.” He rolled the peak between thumb and forefinger, lazy circles that matched the lazy rolls of his tongue, then dragged his palm down again, returning to grip your ass and lift you higher against his face.
The new angle changed everything.
His nose ground even harder against your clit now with constant pressure while his tongue stayed buried, curling against the front wall over and over and over again.
Your thighs started to shake in earnest. The muscles burned from being held so wide, your calves cramped as your heels dug into the flexing muscles of his back. Every inhale dragged your chest against the damp blouse, scraping your nipples raw with friction. The alcove smelled overwhelmingly of your sweet-salty arousal, the faint iron of your own sweat, and the lingering smoke that clung to his hair even now.
With the most devious grin known to man he pulled his tongue out of your drooling cunt, inch by torturous inch, letting you feel every ridge and subtle flex until only the tip remained. Then he replaced it with two thick fingers without any warning.
His knuckles dragged along your walls as he pushed inside, curling upward to hook against that swollen spot while his thumb took over the pressure on your clit. He didn’t pump them yet. He simply held them deep, flexing them in the same rolling rhythm his tongue had used—press, hold, release, repeat—while his thumb circled in slow, firm sweeps that matched the tempo exactly.
Your head fell back against the chair just as a broken moan tore out of you, finally unfiltered.
And he watched your face the entire fucking time, eyes never leaving yours, even as he leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue once more over your clit in a single, devastatingly slow pass, tasting the fresh gush that followed the stretch of his fingers. Then he sealed his lips around the bud again, gentle suction this time, while his fingers kept that slow curl up inside you.
The combination was unbearable.
Your body locked, every muscle going rigid at once. Your thighs clamped around his head so hard he groaned in approval; your fingers knotted in his hair and yanked until strands pulled free. The orgasm built like a slow-rising tide rather than a sudden crash, starting deep in your core, spreading outward in heavy, pulsing waves that made your toes curl and your vision start to tunnel.
He didn’t speed up even then.
But he felt the exact moment you teetered right on the razor’s edge.
And he pulled back.
Fingers still buried but frozen. Thumb lifted away. Lips parted just enough for cool air to kiss your throbbing clit.
You snarled through gritted teeth, voice cracking. “You… you fucking prick. I was right there. Don’t you dare stop now. You’re having way too much fun with this, aren’t you? Making me shake like some pathetic mess while you just sit there looking smug.”
His eyes darkened with delight. He loved the bite in your voice.
“Smug because you look s'good when you’re pissed n' dripping,” he growled against your folds. “Keep going. Tell me how much you hate it. I wanna hear it.”
You were trembling so hard your voice came out uneven. “Y-you keep getting me so close and then backing off… it’s driving me fucking crazy… I hate this… h-ate how you can just hold me right here…”
He groaned low and animal, the sound reaching straight into your ears. Then he finally gave in.
His fingers curled hard against that perfect fleshy spot. His thumb pressed down on your clit with firm, relentless circles while his mouth sealed over it all, sucking with ruthless pressure. His tongue flicked quick and merciless right where you needed it.
You broke with a ragged cry.
“F-fuck—yes—y-you bastard—shit—”
The orgasm slammed into you like a breaking wave. Your back arched violently, heels kicking into his back as thick pleasure crashed through you again and again. Your voice splintered into breathless, furious sounds between gasps.
“You smug asshole… f-uck—yes—”
He didn’t let up. He rode every wave with you, sucking deeper, fingers flexing in time with your stuttering curses, thumb grinding tight circles under his tongue that dragged the climax out longer and meaner. A second, sharper crest hit right behind the first, ripping another broken shout from your throat.
“Y-you love this… don’t you… getting off on me while I curse you out—fuck—Yami–!” you sqealed.
His groan vibrated through you like thunder. His grip turned bruising, possessive. Every gasping insult seemed to spur him on, like your anger was exactly what he wanted.
The aftershocks kept rolling through you — again. And again, sharp little jolts that made your hips twitch and your voice crack into shambles.
“You’re… too much… you bastard… h-how can just do this to me…”
Only then did he finally ease off, fingers slipping free with a wet sound, lips placing one last slow kiss against your oversensitive clit that made you sigh and curse again.
He lifted his head, resting his forehead against your quivering thigh, breathing hard. His chin and throat glistened. His eyes, still dark and feral, locked on yours with raw satisfaction.
“Goddamn, rabbit,” he rasped, voice thick and husky. “You cum cursing me out and it’s the hottest thing I’ve heard in years. That fire while you’re shaking apart? Fuck. I want more of it. All of it.”
You laughed hoarsely, glaring down at him with glassy, fire-filled eyes.
“You’re a monster,” you panted. “A smug, infuriating monster."
His grin was slow, and dangerous.
“Forget how to count coins yet?”
You laughed, triumphantly.
“Almost.” You licked your dry lips, eyes half-lidded. “But I’m a thorough woman. You’ll have to run the numbers again. And again. Until the ledger’s completely blank.”
His fingers curled into your waistline, nails digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he pressed closer, the heat of his breath a live wire against your skin.
“Round two it is, then.”
He leaned forward, breath already ghosting hot over your oversensitive core once more.
“Hold on tight, rabbit. We’re just getting started.”
The smell of tobacco clings to the air as moonlight slips through the window, silver light piercing the dark room. It catches the drifting smoke, thin and slow, as it glides outside. Yami stands near the windowsill, one bare shoulder braced against the frame, staring out. His boxers sit low on his hips, the moonlight tracing the lines of his chest.
“Come back to bed,” you whisper, brushing your fingers over the silk sheets where he had been, still warm, still creased with the shape of his body.
He turns toward you, exhaling another slow puff of smoke. The cigarette hangs loosely from his lips, the ember glowing faintly in the dark.
“Idiot,” he mutters. “What’d you wake up for?”
But he's already walking back to you.
He flicks the cigarette away without looking, the faint glow disappearing as he climbs back onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight.
He leans down and kisses you, soft and warm, and all too quick. You can taste the tobacco on his lips.
"Those things are gonna kill you one day," you murmur as he pulls away, finally settling beside you. He guides your head onto his chest, running a calloused hand through your hair.
"My job's people trying to kill me. At least let me pick how I kick the bucket."
"Yes, here lies Captain Yami, who died valiantly fighting a… cigarette." You mock sleepily, waving your hands. He catches them, lacing his fingers through yours.
He's quick, flipping you onto your back. The tumble wakes you right up, groggy eyes flying wide open.
"Stop naggin' me, woman."
His hands never leave yours, now clasped firmly above your head. His black hair hangs loosely, dark strands framing his face as he stares down at you, steel eyes meeting your own. Something about the way he looks at you, the way his rugged features always seem to soften just a bit, makes your chest tighten.
His hands relaxes, moving down to gently cup your cheek, and you feel the hardened skin brushing against your own, a testament to his years of work with a sword.
“Yami…” you whisper softly, his lips move to capture yours, while his other hand guides your leg around his waist, settling at your hip as he gently squeezes between kisses.
His lips move against yours, tongue sweeping against your bottom lip. Your lips part eagerly, the taste of earth and ash melting on your tongue. And for always naggin' him about smoking… you couldn't get enough of the taste of it on his tongue.
His hands slides under your shirt, rough fingers grazing the soft skin, and your breath catches softly into the kiss.
He pulls back only enough for his breath to fan across your lips, his forehead brushing against yours.
“Still worryin’ about that cigarette?” he smirks.
You huff softly. "Someone has to."
Truth be told, the absolute last thing on your mind was a cigarette.
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest before he kisses you again.
The End :) As always let me know if you enjoyed reading! Sorry it's so short, it's been a minute since I've written anything..
I had planned on writing nsfw, but I've only ever written sfw so I chickened out, but ill work up to it one day,,, ,_,
tags: yami sukehiro x fem!reader, captain x subordinate, fluff, comfort, yami taking care of reader, love confession, oneshot
summary: reader often suffers from migraines which result in sleepless nights. Yami's always there to take care of her
You were an ice mage, a powerful one. Every spell you cast shimmered with raw, crystalline power, bending frost and snow to your will. Yet the more magic you wielded, the weaker you became after, as if your very essence was being leeched away. When the battle ended, your body would betray you: freezing aches crawling through your bones, and migraines that struck like jagged shards of ice behind your eyes. Everything until you recovered again and warmed yourself enough to function properly again.
Another sleepless night caused by an awful migraine. You wandered through the corridors of Black Bulls headquarters, deciding to head outside for a walk not to wake anyone up. But someone was already up.
"Tch. That headache again?" You heard deep, familiar voice of your captain.
"Ah, captain..." you looked down intimidated currently by his strong presence, when he found you at your weakest, wearing only light pajamas.
Yami steps closer, the glow from his cigarette briefly lighting the sharp concern in his eyes before he flicks it away. He tilts your chin up with two fingers, rough, but careful.
"You're ice-cold again. You pushed too hard, yesterday" he exhaled scratching the back of his head. "Should’ve said somethin’ earlier."
He shrugs off his tattered cloak and drapes it over your shoulders, warmth clinging to the fabric from his body heat.
"C'mon. We’re gettin’ you warm before you turn into a damn popsicle." A smirk tugs at his stubbled jaw. "Wouldn’t look good if my strongest mage froze solid on my watch."
You smiled with gratitude and nodded, surrendering to his lead and putting yourself under his care. Yami nudges your shoulder with his as he guides you toward the kitchen, boots thudding lazily against the floorboards.
"Next time, just wake me up. I’ll brew tea, light a fire… whatever it takes to keep that head of yours from crackin’ open." He said in his usual nonchalant tone.
The man tosses a dry log into the stove and sparks a flame with his lighter, after a split second igniting warmth.
"...And no more midnight escapes. All my mages should be in their rooms sleeping by 11" he added with that slight hint of unserious exaggeration whenever he joked around.
You let out a small chuckle, at this child-like treatment. You were far older than newer recruits like Asta and Noelle, your age was closer to Yami's, yet sometimes his caring nature made him treat you like a needy kid.
Your cheeks flushed a little under impression of his words. So warm, so familiar, so caring contrasting with his brutal nature.
"You're way too good to me, captain" you muttered softly, slightl playfulness lingering in your voice.
"Don't be gettin’ soft on me now."
Yami avoids your gaze for a moment, poking at the fire making sure it burns hit enough to provide warmth for you. The light dances over his stubble, his messy black hair, hiding the faint twitch of his lips.
"Someone’s gotta keep you from turnin’ into an ice statue" he throws another log in the flames. "You'd definitely look good standing like that in living room but I prefer you warm and alive"
He grabs a chipped mug from the shelf, one that survived daily black bulls shenanigans, and pours steaming water over dried tea leaves.
"Here." He shoves it into your hands, voice gruff but warm. "Drink up till the last drop. Captain's orders."
"Yes, captain" you took the cup from him, warming your frigid hands. A sip of steaming beverage made pleasant warm spread through your body. You moved to the couch taking a seat.
"Good. Now stay there." He commanded.
Yami stomps over to the supply cabinet, yanking out a thick blanket, threadbare at the edges but still warm from being stashed near a heating charm. He tosses it at you without finesse.
You returned him his cloak and wrapped yourself in a soft blanket. Your face flushed with relief and comfort as you settled comfortably sipping more of the warm aromatic drink.
"Wrap up. I saw you shiver just now."
He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching as steam curls from your mug as if to make sure it's still warm enough even though he just brewed it.
"You are making me worried, though" he grumbled his eyebrows furrowing slightly "It's been happening more often lately. I'm feeling like if I don't watch over you, you might freeze to death.
You look down, eyes stuck on your forearms where little ice crystals lingered, not sure how to respond. Your power was a double edged sword, fierce and brave on the battle ground but making you feeble and frail after.
Yami drags a chair over with his foot—sitting too close, knees almost bumping into yours. He fishes out another cigarette but doesn’t light it yet, just flicks the unlit end between his fingers.
"If you don't inform your captain about those side effects... I might put you in detention."
You look up at him with a gaze that explained more than words. Uncertainty, vulnerability, plead for understanding.
He leans in, voice dropping to a gravelly murmur.
"Or I could start expectin’ you to need this every night?Or maybe you want me to just stick around and make sure ya don't freeze solid on principle?"
You hear that teasing in his voice again making you less nervous about the situation.
You let out a soft exhale with a weak smile. "I don't think it's a secret that I like when you take care of me, captain. Those migraines....are seriously unbearable. But you make me suffer less each time you help me out."
"Mhm."
Yami glances away again, lighting his cigarette, corner of his lips almost curling into something that could look like a smile.
After a moment of silence when you focused on your tea and Yami on his cigarette, his hand reaches out to rest against your forehead, his palm shockingly warm compared to the ice of your skin.
"Still freezin’," he grumbles. "C'mon. Lie down."
He waits till you finish the last sip and shoves a spare pillow against the armrest, urging your head to move with a light nudge. You obediently flopped on the couch, your body that felt heavy at the moment landing there with a thud.
"Atta girl."
Yami's hand lingers on your brow for half a second too long, calloused and rough, but almost too gentle, then it pulls away spread the blanket over your shoulders, fixing the pillow under your sore head.
"Better?"
He moves to sit on the edge of the couch, weight dipping the cushion. It places him close enough that you can smell tobacco.
“Much better,” you exhaled, contentment easing into your chest. The smell of cigarettes was strangely comforting.
"Good."
Yami relaxes, leaning back against the armrest. One foot rests on the coffee table, the other on the floor, legs spread wide and relaxed, taking up too much room. But you didn't mind at all. It felt oddly domestic with both of them being just themselves.
"Gotta say…" he mutters, flicking the cigarette between his knuckles.
"Hm, what is it, captain?" You shift your head to look up at him.
"Nothin'."
Yami glances down at you, one eyebrow raised like you caught him mid-thought. The corner of his mouth twitches—half smirk, half something quieter.
"Just thinkin’… I'm damn lucky you joined my squad"
He leans back further, folding his arms behind his head.
"You're a bit of pain in ass but I ain’t complainin’."
His voice drops low again—teasing, but laced with something warmer than smoke and fire.
"I'm lucky I was chosen" you let your eyes flutter shut feeling warmer each minute. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I have best mates and... couldn't wish for a better captain"
"If being best captain means sittin’ here watchin’ you sleep like some creep? Hell, I’ll take it."
You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his remark.
"I don't mind being watched over by you like that, captain. It makes me feel safe" you admitted sincerely.
"Is that so…"
Yami exhales slow, eyes narrowing as he watches you. His smirk lazy smirk tugging on his mouth.
He shifts, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked with yours.
"You really mean that… don't ya? You feel safe, with me watchin'."
His eyes flicker with something warm, something unexpectedly tender.
You extended your hand and carefully took the cigarette from him, inhaling the smoke as if savouring it, before placing it back in his grasp. “Yes,” you murmured, a faint, fond smile touching your mouth. "I mean it."
Yami looks away with a huff. The cigarette is halfway to his mouth, forgotten as he stares at the opposite wall, too aware of your touch still lingering on his hand, the feeling of your gaze.
"You don't play fair" he flicks your forehead.
The words come out grumbled, half-obscured by the cigarette shoved between his lips. His free hand reaches to rub a thumb against your knuckles, as an excuse to check your body temperature – still cold, but no longer frozen.
Yami lets out a huff, not quite a sigh, but close. "Jus' couldn't sleep. Got up, thought I'd have a smoke. Wasn't expectin' to find ice-princess headin' outside in the middle of the night."
He exhales another stream of smoke. It curls against the dim light of the room, wrapping around his sharp features.
"You're not overworking yourself, are you, captain?" You asked softly opening your eyes a little, observing the dancing fire across the room.
"Me? Nah."
Yami leans back, scratching his stubble with a rough hand. His voice is steady, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, like he’s not exactly telling the truth and knows you can see it.
"Just… been hearin’ things. Movements near the border. Nobles actin’ sketchy again, like always."
He taps ash into an ashtray at coffee table, gaze fixed on the grey powder.
"And… well." He lowers his voice slightly. "Someone's gotta watch over my team when they're too insufferable."
His eyes slide to you.
You look up at him meeting his gaze
"Next time I'll return the favor. I'll let you relax and take a break. Paper work, watching over the squad, anything."
Yami snorts, blowing out a stream of smoke. He seems about to argue, but then pauses, eyes narrowing as he studies you.
"You're serious, aren't you."
It's not a question. His smirk returns, but it's not his usual sly grin, something softer, deeper.
"You'd really try to take care of me, huh."
"Only if you’d permit it,"you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Mm. We'll see about that."
Yami huffs and ashes the cigarette into the tray again. The room falls silent for a spell, quiet, but not uncomfortable. He remains where he is, close enough to feel the heat from your body.
His eyes rake over you again, this time slower, thoughtful. It's hard to read his expression like this, like he's battling something inside himself.
His thumb rubs feather light circles against your knuckles, not quite realizing he's doing it, a gesture so unlike him.
You savoured the faint warmth of his touch, letting it dissolve the frost you carried, heat seeping gently into her skin. “I do care. Very much,” you murmured. "Besides…"A small smile curved your lips. "Every man needs a woman’s guiding hand at some point."
Yami lets out a short, sharp laugh, half surrender. He shakes his head, stubble scratching against the back of his hand as he rubs it across his mouth.
He leans in just slightly—close enough that the light from the fire catches the glint in his dark eyes.
"You tryin' to fix me now?"
His voice drops low—teasing at first but with something warmer underneath.
"...Might be too late for that."
His fingers brush a loose strand of hair from your forehead as you tilt your head trying to read the meaning of his words.
"Captain’s already been taken, you know."
"Taken?"
Your eyes widened in a shock as you gripped the blanket, hoping maybe you misunderstood.
"Yeah."
Yami's eyes stay locked with yours, dark, intense. Smoke curls again from the forgotten cigarette between his fingers, as he leans closer, the couch shifting under his weight.
"Taken, as in…"
His thumb brushes against your cheek—light, like a whisper. He's close enough that your breath mingles, warm and heavy.
"Taken by a cold ice-princess who doesn't even realise she's stolen my damn heart by now."
"Wha—" you parted your lips, but no words came. Your wide eyes searched his, firelight flickering in their depths. You looked shocked, stunned even, yet something fragile and hopeful still lingered in your gaze.
"Surprised?"
Yami's smirk is back, but softer than usual—more teasing than sharp. His thumb brushes against your cheek again, tracing along the contour of your jaw. His voice remains low, almost a whisper.
"Shouldn't be. Not a secret I’ve been wantin' you for a while now."
He leans in even further, breath mingling again.
"And I don't plan on lettin' anyone else have you."
You pushed herself up, clutching the blanket to your chest as if it could steady you. “Are you… serious?” The words came out fragile, almost disbelieving. Hope fluttered uneasily in your chest, bright and terrifying all at once, because a moment ago, he had seemed so far beyond your reach.
"Damn straight."
Yami huffs, watching you sit upright with something between amusement and intensity in his eyes. The blanket slips slightly, but he reaches up to fix it, fingers grazing your shoulder through the fabric.
"Never been more certain of anything."
He holds your gaze, steady and unflinching.
You gulped, trembling under the weight of his words, your thoughts reeling. “Yeah…I mean...” The word barely left your lips. “I wouldn’t mind being yours, captain.” You drew a shaky breath. “Truth is… I think I’ve wanted that for a very long time.”
"Good. We are on the same page then"
Yami's lips twisted into a smirk again, his hand shifting to rest on your shoulder. The touch was gentle, rough fingertips drawing lazy circles on your skin. It was an easy-going gesture, but it held a possessive undercurrent.
You shifted closer, clinging to him, your arms looping around his strong one, as if holding on to more than just his body. Finally, you let yourself lean in, letting the nearness you’d longed for wash over you.
A low, almost pleased noise escaped him as you closed the distance. After a while he shifted, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you closer, the blanket wrapped around the two of you. He smelled like smoke, warm and bitter
"Damn," he muttered against your skin, voice low and gruff. "You're still freezing for my liking"
"In this position…” you exhaled softly, a shiver running through you. “I’ll get warm pretty soon.” you felt yourself melting into him, surrendering to the heat of the moment.
"Hah… that so?"
Yami chuckles—low and rough, vibrating against your neck where his face still rests. His grip tightens, pulling you even closer until there's no space left between you. The heat of his body seeps through the blanket, burning away the cold like a slow-spreading flame.
"Mm. Guess you’re right."
He lifts his head just enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded, voice thick with something warm and lazy.
Your eyes locked on his, warm, tender, and full of quiet fondness. Ever since joining the squad, you had admired Yami from afar. You had been his right hand, steadfast and loyal. And now you finally get what you yearned for.
Yami’s voice dropslow, when he says your name, like he’s holding back something.
His fingers slide up to cradle the side of your face, calloused thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he studies you.
"I’ve been watchin" you since day one, you know. You were always truly impressive"
You gasped softly, hear beating just faster at his heartfelt confession.
"You fought like hell just to prove yourself here, even when no one else gave a damn. And I…" He smirks faintly. "I liked that fire in you."
He leans in until his forehead rests against yours, a gesture surprisingly affectionate and tender.
"But now?" His voice is barely above a whisper. "Now, you're more than just that.
You're my woman."
And for once he says it soft.
“Captain’s woman…” you breathed, unable to believe it, your pulse hammering in your chest, cheeks burning. “It’s… an honor.” Every word trembled with awe and something tender you could hardly contain.
You tilted your head slightly, heart hammering against your ribs. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the faint curve of a smile you hadn’t dared to imagine.
Your hands rose almost instinctively, resting against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. He leaned in, slow, deliberate, giving you every moment to pull away, but you didn’t.
When your lips finally met, it was gentle at first, a tentative brush that sent shivers down your spine. Then, as if every doubt, every restraint melted away, the kiss deepened, soft, lingering, full of unspoken confessions. You pressed closer, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, into the reality you had longed for.
"I don't think she loves me." He said, looking at your sleeping baby.
You paused for a second, wondering if you heard him right then wondering if he truly felt that way. But, you husband was typically serious.
"What do you mean? Of course she loves you." You respond instantly, not wanting the thought of his 3 month old daughter hating him to take root in his brain.
“i know, but I’m always gone on missions she probably doesn’t even know who I am.”
“I assure you she does.” You smile, thinking about all the times her face lit up when he walked in her lane of sight.
He nodded as he continued getting ready for bed, but you could tell it still bothered him.
Before he turned off the light, he stood over her crib, kissed her forehead and said, "I love you, my precious princess."
Maybe she heard him and understood or maybe she was just having a happy dream, but as soon as he said that, her tiny sleeping face scrunched up into a little smile.
"You're right," He whispered to no one in particular, "but I love you most." He whispered to his little girl.
a/n: started writing because I was frustrated with my hair so naturally I’m taking it out on my fav character
This fucking loser. Every month he comes in and makes the biggest scene trying to out-gamble this dude*. It's crazy to think that he's the first man I've seen naked and I haven't properly introduced myself. Yet here we are again, me cleaning up after his defeat
.
"Hey!" the man drunkingly calls out to me.
I continue doing what I'm doing, wiping down the table and cleaning up the cards. He goes away eventually.
The table shifted on it's legs, throwing my rag on the floor and tossing the now stacked cards in the air. My hands are up in shock, what the fuck is going on??
Lo and behold it's that sore loser, holding onto that table like it's his life crutch.
"I said hey!" he spoke into nothingness with his eyes closed. Obviously too drunk to function.
I took a deep breath and paused to allow myself to think. Any sudden decisions were bound to put me in chains, this man was a magic knight captain after all.
My chest puffed out in frustration as I waltzed to where he lay, and I pinched the fuck out of his ear and pulled him off the table.
"I'm trying to respect you because of your status, but I've been cleaning up after you every time you come into this fuck ass place. This is the first time you've ruined what I was in the middle of, whatever you have to say to me better be damn important or I'll kick your ass, captain or not."
His eyes actually opened, focusing on my own with a grin creeping on his face. Fully smiling now he yelled into a random direction, "Round of drinks on me!"
Scoffing isn't even the word to describe what came out of my mouth when he said that.
"Look, *hic* princess," he tried standing up straight but stumbled back into that poor table.
"You're brave, join my squad... we need people like you!" he exclaimed, and whoever he was with had come back from who knows where and just started dick riding him.
They went on this tangent about their squad and just bounced back and forth off of what the other said. I stopped listening when he said princess and continued to clean up the mess.
I started making my way to the rest of the tables and it seemed he had already forgotten about me, thankfully. I literally just had to clean up a few more tables and I was off for the night.
—-
/authors debrief/
we’ll see if I actually finish this and make it a porn with plot story
Sleepy mornings with your favorite Magic Knight Captain ♡
"Yami...."
A soft whisper escapes your lips, followed by a grunt as you adjust yourself beneath the said man. The weight of his body was suffocating, yet comforting at the same time.
You decide to give him a little bit of a nudge, nothing too strong but nothing too light either. He doesn't respond, still deep in his slumber as you try to fend off the rising sun's beams blazing in from the cracked window of the Black Bull's hideout.
After a moment of silence and the acceptance of defeat, you feel Yami adjust himself on top of you, followed by a soft grunt. His muscular arms find purchase around your mid-section, tightening just a bit.
Your arms move to reciprocate his actions, allowing one of your hands to slip up towards the base of his neck. A soft hum leaves the man as he feels your hand snake up towards his hair. You allow your fingertips to massage his scalp slowly and gently as you admire his breathtaking features.
The birds chirped cheerfully while you both lay tangled up with one another. Your fingers continue to card through his messy locks as you wait for the Magic Knights Captain to wake from his slumber. You feel his head adjust, nosing at the crook of your neck as he finally cracks his eyes open.
This catches your attention. Your hand comes to a halt.
"...mnn"
He groans in protest, his head moving slowly to prop his chin up on your chest. His eyes are still heavy, half-lidded as he meets your soft gaze.
"Good Morning," you whispered out softly, tilting your head down towards him with a soft curl to your lips, "Sleepyhead." Your hands finally continue to move through his locks, something that he definitely appreciated.
Yami only grunts in response, plopping his head back down into the crook of your neck. He plants a lazy kiss there before closing his eyes again. You can't find it in you to be mad at him for wanting to return to bed when he looks so relaxed. And of course, there was no better way to enjoy this moment than closing your eyes once again to fall into a comfortable silence.
A deep breath leaves the man's nose before you feel your position swiftly move from underneath him to beside him. His arms are still firmly wrapped around you, pulling your head closer to his chest this time. You can feel the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart as you allow yourself to breathe in his natural musk.
"Good Morning." He finally drawled out, voice barely above a whisper but full of rasp and sleep. You can't help but shiver at the sound of his deep, rumbly voice. The half-awake man leans down to place another peck on your forehead. His hands move to follow your ministrations from earlier, now massaging your scalp to lull you back to sleep.
Both you and Yami stay like this for a little while longer until there's a loud knock coming from the opposite side of the Captain's door. The said captain lets out an exaggerated groan, not wanting to give the uninvited guest a real answer.
Another knock followed along with a loud and boisterous voice.
"Captain Yami! It's time to get up!" Exclaims Asta from the other side. Your lover groans one more time before he wills himself to give his member a response.
"What the hell do you want? Leave us alone will ya?" Comes his response, much softer than his normal retorts that poor little Asta receives daily. You can hear Asta whine and grumble to himself as his footsteps disappear down the hallway.
Neither of you move to get up. The warmth far too peaceful to interrupt; however, it was beginning to get quite rowdy outside in the lobby. Multiple sounds of laughter and a big BOOM could be heard, making your body jolt.
"I guess it's time we get up..." You hushed out, separating your body just an inch from his to make eye contact. His gaze locks with yours, lingering for a second before he huffs, "I suppose so."
You can see the small pout forming on his gruff features, lips tugging slightly downwards. Who would've thought the great big and bad Yami Sukehiro would be so cute and pouty?
One of your hands moves to cup the side of his face, his head tilting to lean into it as your thumb brushes his lower lip. His stubble tickles your palm a bit as you lean in closer, your breaths mingling and ghosting over one another. A breathy laugh emits from you, brushing past his lips. His brows furrow at your quiet laughter.
You whisper out a soft, "You're so cute when you're sleepy." before finally closing in with a soft peck on his lips, hand still resting on his cheek.
A/N: Uhm hi! I just started rewatching Black Clover and just really really wanted to write for Yami as my first post. Proofreading def did not happen.
“We’re captains. We shouldn’t be playing these stupid games-“
“Oh, looks like it landed on you and Yami, Strictly.”
Nozelle’s nickname for you would’ve made you protest, if it wasn’t for the other captains cheering for you and Yami to get in the closet. 7 Minutes in Heaven was the game of the night for this week, which you found absolutely ridiculous. You were all adults, yet you found yourselves so bored that you had to play a teenager’s game? Honestly.
You grumbled and crossed your arms as you were pushed into the tight space with your coworker. “This is so stupid… Grown adults playing kid’s games like we’ve never had our first kiss…”
Basically chest to chest, you had nowhere to run. You could barely even turn your head from him in mock disgust. However, you could feel the beat of his heart hammering against your own, breaths falling heavy past his lips.
“You know, Yami,” you started, a smirk playing on the corner of your lips, “From the way you were breathing, I’d say you’re nervous.” Of course, you hadn’t really thought this, only wanting to psyche him out— however, the hitch in his breath told you there was more honesty behind your words than you had previously thought.
“Yah, because a guy who has cut countless enemies in half with one Dark Slash is nervous in a closet with a… nice looking person,” he mocked. Though he was smug and nonchalant, you could tell that there was something he was hiding. Something he wasn’t telling you…
“Then prove it,” you challenged, not wanting to back down now, “Kiss me.”
That took you both off guard. Under his intense gaze, you began to backtrack. “Wait, I mean- if you want—“
“Oh,” he started, “I want.” As the words came out of his mouth, confusing the hell out of you, suddenly a strong arm was wrapped around your middle, pressing you two flush together. If there was room to breathe before, there was definitely none now. Sharp breaths fell past your lips, Yami’s hand getting dangerously close to fondling your ass. “Maybe if you weren’t so damn stubborn all the time, you’d be able to see what’s in front of you.”
“Yami~” Gods, maybe if you had gotten some action in the last year you wouldn’t have moaned out his name with just a light touch to your ass. However, the lack of attention to your crotch made you squeeze your legs together in need of friction and focus. And what did he mean that you were blind to what was in front of your face? You couldn’t even think about the meaning of his words right now. His body was way too damn distracting!
“Shit, your hands are fucking huge…” You hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but there was no stopping you now. All shame had flown out the window.
“Oh, I’ll show you just what these huge hands can do—“
“Alright, times up! Oh, someone’s gotten a bit comfortable now haven’t we?”
You grumbled as you passed Nozelle on the way out, followed by a cooler than a cucumber Yami with his hands behind his head, smirking. He knew where he’d be visiting tonight.
And he knew you’d be waiting for him outside your team’s castle to lead him up to your room, too.
