ŕź Characters: Madara, Kakashi, Obito, Sasuke, Itachi, Gaara, and Shisui
đŞ˝ŕźŕźŕż Content warning: pre-relationship or established relationship , fluff
Since when they live in a house with such a talented artist?
⢠Kakashi Hatake
Kakashi entered the house quietly, his ninja instincts reflecting his quiet personality, as if he didn't want to disturb anyone with his presence. Not that it ever bothered you.
Well, maybe a little today.
With your back to him in the open kitchen, you stirred vigorously with a wooden spoon in the eggplant miso soup, his favorite, while your fingers moved up and down in the air. It was as if you were in two different worlds at the same time. One on stage, conducting the singers in a symphony in tandem with your souls â and the other in your comfortable, cozy kitchen waiting for him.
Kakashi's eyes widened as he slowly approached you, not necessarily to make his presence felt, but now he stopped in his tracks. Besides cooking with one hand and conducting with the other, some high tones came out slowly, softly from your mouth, loud enough for him to hear. But why does it sound good? Kakashi thought.
"Fuck!â
His thoughts were interrupted when a drop of soup splashed on your hand, probably from moving the spoon too quickly. As you sucked the pain from the scalded skin on your finger like a small child, you turned around just as you heard Kakashi chuckling.
"What? Kakashi? How long have you been here?"
He came closer while he asked for your hand to inspect the burn, then clasping it with both of his when he saw that it was nothing serious. He only answered you when he looked up from your hand.
"Hmm... shortly before the concert started."
You gasp, blushing hard enough that you can't excuse the heat coming from the cooking, which is why you quickly turned away.
"And why didn't you say anything?"
You muttered with your back to them, looking at the pot of soup once more before turning off the heat. He came close to you, his head resting lightly on your shoulder and his hands settled on either side of your body.
"And miss a free show?" His tease just madeyour body tense. But not enough until his hands touched you, calming you immediately. "Why didn't my beloved partner tell me she has a voice?"
You murmured, too shy to speak more loudly. "I don't... You're imagining things."
His chuckle sent a vibration against your ear, giving you goosebumps all down your spine. Kakashiâs fingers brushed the hair from your shoulder until his lips touched your cheek.
"I must say I didn't hear you. Can you repeat that, darling?"
He probably won't keep quiet about his little discovery for a long time. And you probably won't be as annoyed as you seem, maybe you'll even sing for him if he asks more nicely.
⢠Itachi Uchiha
Itachi is a man of surprises when you least expect them.
Sometimes your heart would burst with joy when he came home early from missions, and other times you would be overcome with sadness when months went by without him. So you both decided not to make any predictions, because life is too varied and spontaneous to predict the future in a shinobi world.
Thatâs why you didnât mind spending your last nights surrounded by musical notes, both literally and figuratively. Itachi didnât necessarily know, not because you kept it a secret from him, but simply because you didnât have the time to get to know each other on such a personal level, even though you knew from the beginning that you were meant for each other.
At least thatâs what you thought.
Surprised by the scene in front of him, Itachi noticed your sleeping body, curled up on the couch. It seemed that the deprivation of sleep in his absence had really knocked you down, otherwise, there was no explanation for the chaos in the room and all the papers and pens, ink from everywhere.
Before taking you to your room, he noticed something in his peripheral vision that made him frown. Musical notes? After getting the sheet from the floor, he began analyzing the words. The writing was clearly yours. Above the partita, he read the small, almost hidden title.
Senya - Itachi
Is this a composition for him? But most importantly, since when his partner has been a hidden artist?
He tried to analyze your childhood quickly for clues, especially since both of you grew up together. A particular memory that appeared before him caused his eyes to widen.
You, yelled at by your parents when instead of preparing to be a strong shinobi, you dare to occupy your time with something else.
â[Name], stop wasting time with this nonsense! Who do you think will give a damn about your little foolish notes scribbled on these old papers when this village is at risk? Why arenât you more like the boy you always hang out with, the Uchiha one? Didnât you learn anything from being around him?!â
Maybe he shouldnât have been eavesdropping; even if it wasnât intentional. Through the narrow door gap, he saw you crying and being scolded, and he felt a new, unfamiliar emotion. Angry? Angry that someone was treating you, his friend, like that? And when you thought you saw him that time, you were hopeful that maybe it was just a hallucination of your mind.
Now, Itachi came up beside you, kneeling on one knee, his other hand reaching towards your face as his slender fingers brushing your hair aside to reveal your vulnerable expression, the fragility of your beauty in that moment.
You blinked, your eyes furrowed in confusion before opening them slightly.
âItachi?â The back of his hand lingered on your cheek while the first thing you saw was his faint smile. âYouâre back!â He nodded at your enthusiastic voice despite the tiredness behind it as you embraced him. With your head over his shoulder, your eyes took in your surroundings.
As you nuzzle more into his neck, Itachi didnât miss the curse under your mouth.
â[Name]? Will you look at me?â
You swear you heard a little chuckle when you shake your head in disapproval and by the glint in his eyes when you eventually find the courage to do so, it surely was.
âWell... I guess I have some answers to give, am I right?â
He reassured you, patting your head tenderly.
âOnly when you are ready to.â
You nod, thankful for his patience. Still, you couldnât resist the curiosity.
âD-did you also see the...â
The look in his eyes was telling you enough, enough to groan in despair as you lowered your head until it landed on his chest. Such a precious soul he managed to encounter in his life. Maybe too precious for the misery he had lived, leaving imprints on his destructive soul.
He put his arms around you, murmuring in your ear with such softness, reflecting how much you touched his heart for writing a song for him.
âIâll cherish it. Thank you, [Name].â
⢠Madara Uchiha (㠤altered scenario)
Yarigakure, the Village Hidden by Spears has a distinct warrior culture and deep religious affiliations. However, underneath, Yarigakure is a poor village with many homeless people, orphans, and maimed due to the wars inflicted on them.
After losing his brother, Madara finds himself once in a while at the church. Because if a God exists, he must find a proof, even a small signal to make him go further, to guide him so his hatred deep rooted in the soul to not take control of him, making him hopeless.
And maybe He did. He did give him what he needed - at least thatâs Madaraâs reasoning for him to meet you. To spare him from misery, from a bloody future.
His head raised along with the others at the sudden movements in front of him and behind the priest. Performers â ones by voice, ones by instruments. Yet, his eyes landed on you from the start to the end.
Some may say that unusual forces drive him in like a magnet, to your angelic appearance along with your voice. But Madara could recognize that expression, that hidden expression. The fire in your eyes is burning.
As you were putting all the emotions you could have, releasing at least a bit of your pain, the thoughts in the back of your mind told you someone, someone with a strong presence watched you. Only at the end you lock eyes with him. When the recital was finished.
But it was like you already knew where to look to find him, without wandering your eyes. He was indeed brought into your life purposely.
It was a matter of fact when your first contact would be. From that moment, Madara had more frequent visits, but without success of seeing you again.
Until one day when he found you again. The longing from before was enough to make his stone heart break a little. He waited for you and you waited for him to come. His first words were enough to make it official.
âFrom the second I laid my eyes on you, it was clear to me that you must be someone I should meet. And something is telling me Iâm not the only one who shares this feeling.â
⢠Obito Uchiha
After a difficult day with his made-out-of-stone friend, Obito was preparing to leave the ANBU headquarters to go home. Although trained for such situations, he still jumped when Rin called out to him just as he was leaving the building.
"Obito! Hey, wait a second."
"Rin?" He looked at her as she gave him a small flyer that he didn't have time to read because Rin already wanted to leave. "What's this? Why are you leaving so suddenly?!"
But Rin only smiled, waving at him as she started to leave.
"I know you don't feel like yourself these days! Maybe you want to see my friend here! I'll be there."
He blinked twice, confused by the sudden events. As he looked down at the flyer, furrowing his eyebrows at the small words, murmuring along with them, Kakashi also exited through the door.
"A gathering in the Konoha village family can bring smiles even to the most innocent, deprived souls. We look forward to seeing you there."
What the fuck is this?
He was startled once again when Kakashi spoke. (Maybe he should get fired from the position as a member, but maybe the fact that he was so unskilled by the confusing encounter with Rin was a good excuse.)
âProbably something charitable. By the look of the instruments drawn here, most likely a musical one.â
Why should he go to this kind of thing? It wasn't something he would go to.
He thought for a second before speaking.
"Do you wannaâ"
"No."
His shoulders dropped at his friend's plain tone, even though he started walking along with him, sighing as he spoke mindlessly.
"Did you know Rin's friend?"
***
Obito felt a little bit uncomfortable, sitting in the wooden chair, cramped between all these people. Yet, he forced a smile when Rin gave him one, not daring to complain since she only wanted to make him feel better like a good friend would do.
Already bored, Obito looked around at the people instead, ignoring for a while how a random girl sat down on a chair in the middle of the stage. Just then, some burly guys came in with an massive instruâa harp?! next to her.
Perplexed by the size of the harp, his eyes fell on you only after, shocked for the second time that day. Who are you?
You looked so angelic in that white dress of yours, dropping low on the floor like a princess you only hear about in history books. Not that he knew one to compare, he wasn't usually very attentive in class before. But if a princess ever existed, it was definitely someone similar to what he was seeing right now.
Just before it started, you looked over at Rin, smiling at each other, but that wasn't all. Maybe out of curiosity about who Rin might come with, you looked at him too. And maybe it was delusional or his mind slowed the moment, but it seemed you looked at him purposefully too. Like you also had a flicker of interest.
Or maybe he is delusional.
He felt himself shed a tear by the end of the song, his eyes couldn't be moved from the place you stayed for so long. What was more concerning was that he also put almost all his money for that month into this event.
You were here, where the donations were made. And when he dropped the money in the basket on the table at the exit door, you made sure you smiled at him.
His eyes flushed for a long time, even after he left.
It was only a matter of time until the real victim here would be so annoyed by the actions of both of you, too embarrassed or scared to say anything about the chemistry between the two of you. The real victim was Rin.
Finally, she encouraged Obito enough to talk to you. Enough so that he wouldn't miss any future events to he saw you and to stay after the event to talk at least a little bit.
Courting you took so long because of his shyness, even though by now he was pretty convinced you liked him too.
Until the day he asked you to be his lover.
He dropped to one knee, looking at you after you playing a song on the harp just for him.
"[Name], I can't take it any longer."
"Obito?"
You panicked when he lowered himselr, not knowing what to expect, if he was sick orâ
"Will you be with me? Will you spend your days with me from now?â
You almost cried when he asked you that time, hugging him with all your strength and taking his breath away as your sweet voice calmed the turmoil inside him from the fear of rejection.
"Yes, yes! How long have I wanted you to ask me, ObitoâŚâ
He caressed you, holding you even tighter again his chest.
"Oh...my dear baby. She waited for me, did she?.â
⢠Sasuke Uchiha
After you unpacked in your new home, in the Uchiha estate now finished from the post-war repairs, you settled down on a couch, tired.
You opened one eye when the light beneath your eyelids dimmed from Sasukeâs shadow.
âHm?â
You blinked, as if waking up, when you saw him with that massive box â though not that heavy â containing an instrument dear to you, unused for a long time.
âWhatâs this?â
You appreciated that he hadnât gone through your personal things, maybe embarrassed by your old passion, untouched for so long considering the times you lived through.
When you stuttered, Sasuke raised an eyebrow, suspicious.
âAhm, n-nothing important. Leave it, Iâll put it away myself.â
âSo I can throw it away?â
He tested you, and you confirmed immediately that you were hiding something when you stood up flustered, gesturing.
âNo, no! Just⌠leave it.â
Now he was even more curious than before. He wasnât the type to insist, but something told him it wasnât about hiding something from him â you were ashamed of it. His insistent gaze cornered you.
You tried to take it from his hand, but without success; Sasuke didnât budge, only looked at you. After a silent eye-contact battle, you even lost here, though no ability had been used. Sighing, you sat back down on the couch.
âI used to play it. I liked it quite a lot.â
He leaned down, taking the violin case with him and touching it gently, thinking about what you had said. Obviously your soul had been too burdened to have time for such distractions.
âI understand.â
You smiled at him, still with a heavy heart, leaving the situation as it was.
Only that one random day, when he returned home from the neighboring village, Sasuke placed a placard next to the coffee you were sipping, now propped on the table.
âWhatâs this?â
You looked at it curiously as you took the placard in both hands, while Sasuke said nothing. He left you alone to read about the amateur musical festival in Konoha, watching every micro-expression of yours.
When you lifted your gaze, your cheeks were already flushed that he had thought of you.
âBut I havenât played in so long. Iâm going to embarrass myself. You donât even know how Iââ
âIt doesnât matter.â You blinked, opening your mouth in surprise. âYouâll practice. Iâll support you with whatever you need.â His cheeks were no longer their usual pale, having a bit of color as well. âOnly if you want to.â
You gulped, swallowing with a dry throat from the emotion bubbling up. In the end, you nodded.
Though you wanted it to be a surprise â for him to hear, for the first time on stage, a song dedicated to him â Sasuke canât lie that he didnât secretly listen to you while you practiced, at least a few notes every now and then, learning late what piece you were playing.
Experience, Ludovico Einaudi.
But he was glad he had watched you without your knowledge; otherwise his heart would have shattered from emotion seeing, without any preparation, how angelic you looked, how beautiful you were, and how much passion you poured especially into the intense parts of the piece, where you never took your eyes off him.
Sasuke, almost hypnotized, with no lyrics spoken â only the emotion behind the melody he wasnât familiar with â felt his cheek grow damp with a tear.
⢠Shisui Uchiha
Sighing, you sat down in the circle around the fire. After a specific ANBU mission, you could say you were just as exhausted as your friends. Well, maybe not just your friends.
You and Shusui had agreed that you would not make your relationship official in front of everyone, at least not yet. So when he sat down on the other side of the fire next to Itachi, the only thing you could do was smile briefly at each other, as only your eyes could convey the thrilling secret that only the two of you knew.
Gekko, on the other hand, sat down next to you, giving you a peculiar smile while his gaze fell afterwards on the others as if he were about to reveal a state secret.
"What would be appropriate for a campfire with dear friends?"
You played along, urging him to reveal what he has under up his sleeve.
"I don't know, Gekko. What would that be?"
He pulled out a small, slightly worn guitar, probably passed down from generation to generation. When your eyes lit up, Gekko had a smug on his face.
"Oh? Something tells me we have a singer among us?"
You waved your hand, feeling a little embarrassed.
"Eh, I haven't sung in a long time."
He handed you the guitar and you instinctively took it from his hand. Why not?
Although it was a slower version of "Blue Bird," you felt a lot of warmth in your soul as the rest murmured the lyrics under their breath along with you.
Mezashita no wa
Aoi aoi ano sora
You didn't know that Shisui had stopped talking to Itachi as soon as Gekko started talking to you. And it wasn't hard for him to notice that you had been avoiding his gaze until now, perhaps embarrassed by your hidden talent.
Only at the end, when you sang side by side, did Shisui get more comfortable after the shocking news. His arms were on his raised knees, sitting back. His gaze was only on you.
When your eyes met at the final, Shisuiâs lovely smile widened, almost making you shedding a tear.
***
Only when everyone went to bed, Shisui's shadow appeared for a millisecond in front of you, cast by the tree behind from where his hand reached out, pulling you by the arm like a perfect kidnapping could happen.
You gasped in surprise, your eyes widening until you noticed who the man in front of you was. At the recognition, you pushed him in the chest, leaning your body against the tree.
âShisui! You scared me!â
He chuckled, shoving his hands in his training pants pockets as he looked down at you with that addictive, charming smile.
âYeah? Donât tell me you're under the strong ANBU member, you are actually a frightened kitten.â
You pout, cheeks turning red at his teasing. Tilting your head, you try to avoid his gaze until a finger under the chin raises your head for his eyes to lock on yours.
âI didnât know my girl was such a talented artist.â
You gulped, eyes softening at his praise.
âYou exaggerate like always, Shisui.â
He smirked, staying still one more time until his hands suddenly embraced your body, raising you from the ground while your hands pushed on his shoulders for support.
âShisui!â
He turned you around like he was dancing a part of a tango dance, making you giggle in the process.
The scene seemed ripped from a romantic book - two lovers enjoying each other's presence under the moonlight.
⢠Gaara
Being Gaara's lover was something to be grateful for. Although it certainly meant that your personal life and passions had to take a back seat due to limited time. Not that he ever asked you to help him with anything, on the contrary, he wanted to give you everything without you even lifting a finger to reward you for the loyalty and support you had always given him since he met you.
He didn't expect Temari's friend to be the person he would give his life for.
As you visited the places destroyed by the Akatsuki invasion, your gaze fell on an instrument you hadn't seen since childhood. A piano.
Your melancholic gaze made Gaara, who was looking at you from the side, speak.
"[Name], everything okay?"
Surprised, you felt bad that your own concerns had taken priority in your mind over the people who had been left homeless, so you just muttered, shaking your head disapprovingly, ready to go somewhere else.
"Nothing, it's nothing. Let's go, Lord Kazekage."
You winked at him, just enough to distract him and turn his cheek with your innocent teasing.
But still, late in the day, Gaara sighed as he leafed through some reports on plans for the village's restoration. Temari, next to Kankuro, raised an eyebrow at his sudden, silent emotional outburst, used to seeing him as a stoic man. At least towards others.
"Eeh? Is Kazekage Gaara tired already? Reconsidering his choice of being a leader?"
Kankuro rolled his eyes, used to Temari's antics. But to their surprise, they widened their eyes when Gaara suddenly opened up a bit without realizing it. You managed to change him a bit here, too.
"Nonsense. Just something on my mind about today?"
Too excited for their own good, they spoke at the same time, making Gaara tense.
"What is?!"
He blinked before returning to his sharp, contained expression, even if his voice was now much lower, shy.
"As I went to make a destruction analysis in the village, [Name] was moved, or that's what I thought at the moment, by a musical instrument. Ruined, but you could see it was an old piano." Temari smirked, already knowing the story behind it. "Right...so I was thinking if there's more to it."
Gaara looked at Temari for a second, silently asking her for further knowledge if she had any. She rose from the chair she was sitting on, putting a smug, arrogant look on her face before speaking.
"Here I am, an open book for your dear [Name]." Gaara froze when Temari leaned on his office desk, putting both of her hands on it. Her gaze softened when she saw an unknown emotion in his pupils, maybe guilt for not knowing his lover well enough as her friend did. "But don't worry. She was too little for you to know she played piano before."
Gaara was touched, not even thinking about this type of reason. How did he not realize? He should talk more about this. He needs to know all of you.
He nodded at Temari's suggestion, already thinking about preparations.
"But who knows? Maybe a little surprise could be to your advantage. Lucky I'm here for that, right?"
***
The next morning, as you were getting ready to leave without Gaara, considering that he leaves much earlier than you â at least that's how it's always been â you froze in the doorway leading to the voluminous living room, unable to ignore the massive object in the middle of it.
The glimmer in your eyes was completely visible, a hint of joy drowning them. You stepped closer, your fingers lingering on the piano keys while a million thoughts flooded your mind. His sudden voice, even though it was soft enough, still made you gasp.
âDid you like it?â
You turned around, looking at your lover as he approached you slowly, trying to decipher everything he could from your expression without words.
âGaara, whatâs the meaning of this?â You remember the last day, thinking about anything that can justify instead of the obvious true. âDid you buy it for the home we visited yesterday?â
A faint smile could be seen on his face. Now, in front of your face, he looked down with a kind, soft expression as he touched your cheek.
âNo, [Name]. It is a gift for my lover.â
âW-what?â You turned around agitated. âWhy? But howâHow did you know thatââ
âTemari told me.â
That woman.
You smiled, really smiled at him. Gaara was taken aback by your sudden jump into his arms, locking him tight as you leaned your head on his chest.
âYou..You are⌠I donât even have words.â You raise your head, looking up at the glint in his eyes, the same as yours. âThank you.â
You donât need to thank him, but he knows it's useless to make a retort. Instead, he brought you more happiness when he asked.
I have no reason, I'd just want to pounce on Shisui like a dog high on its favorite toy let me love him! Why he gotta go get deleted pre canon?! Man has potential, so much power, too powerful that he has to be thrown to heaven cause he ain gonna die that easy but I don't mind bringing him to heaven and back (â âĄâ Ďâ âĄâ  â )â  â ~â âŞ
"Hey," Shisui laughed, planting both hands on your shoulders and pushing you away from him, halting your kiss attack. You sat upright, resting on his hips, pouting. "You miss me that much?"
You were both still in the entryway. The second Shisui had walked through the door, you had pounced on him, toppling you both.
"Yes," you said solemnly. "I had no one to bite and squeeze while you were gone."
"Oh? What a travesty," he teased, grinning. You tried to lean back down to kiss him, but he held your shoulders back firmly. "Ah, ah, ah, hang on a minute, let's not get too hasty. I've been gone for three weeks, you know, so I'm in need of a shower."
You scowled, which only seemed to amuse him more.
"No shower, only kisses."
"You'll probably get some kind of weird disease kissing me now," he argued, staring up at you. Kami, his eyes were so pretty, it was hard to keep yourself from falling into them. "Shower first. And if you promise to behave, I might even let you join me."
The pout disappeared in an instant.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" you cheered, delighted. "But you have to let me wash you!"
Shisui shook his head, more in amusement than in any actual denial.
"Come on, get off me," he said, pushing at your shoulders. You did as he'd asked and held out a hand to pull him up. "Let's get in the shower before you decide that licking me clean is a better idea."
You paused, considering.
"Nope! That was a joke, you weirdo, bathroom, now."
"Boo, you're no fun."
(That was a little gift for you, my Shisui anon hehe )
summary: five gothic romance vignettes for the men the uchiha clan could not bury properly
word count: 3887
content: gn!reader, multi-character x reader, gothic romance, dark romance elements, horror imagery, canon-typical violence, cliffhanger endings, individual content tags are attached to each mini-story
đ¤ series masterlist
ITACHI UCHIHA â the doomed saint
content: injury and blood, wound care, death imagery, self-sacrifice, canon-typical itachi angst
You found him where the road ended and the cedar trees began.
It was always a place of endings. A shrine too small to appear on maps, a bell with a cracked mouth, stone foxes furred in moss and old rain. Travellers left paper prayers there when they feared they would not return home, and shinobi avoided it because shinobi hated admitting they believed in anything that could not kill.
Itachi sat beneath the eaves with blood darkening his sleeve as crows gathered in the branches above him.
He looked less like a missing-nin than a beautiful mistake grief had made and failed to correct. His cloak was torn at the shoulder, hair clinging damply to his cheek, and one hand rested against his ribs, too still to be casual, too careful to be painless, and when he looked up at you his eyes were dark.
No Sharingan.
Worse.
Human.
âYou shouldnât be here,â he stated.
âYou always say that.â
âAnd you never listen.â
The bellâs rope swayed though there was no wind.
You crossed the shrineâs courtyard and knelt before him. He watched you with that terrible gentleness, the kind that made every practical motion feel ceremonial, every kindness feel like an offering laid before a god who had long since refused worship.
You pulled bandages from your pack.
Itachiâs fingers closed around your wrist before you could touch the wound.
âDonât.â
âYouâre bleeding.â
âYes.â
âThen let me help you.â
His hand remained around your wrist, loose enough that it couldnât hurt, tight enough that it couldnât be ignored.
Above you, the crows shifted together, a single dark thought passing through the trees.
âIt will make no difference,â he responded.
You hated him for how calmly he could say things that broke something inside you.
âThen let it make no difference after Iâve done it.â
For a moment, Itachi only looked at you. Then, his fingers released.
You worked in silence, cutting away ruined fabric, cleaning blood from skin gone too pale beneath the lantern light. The wound was deeper than it looked. Older bruises shadowed the side of his abdomen below it, yellowed at the edges, violet near the bone. His breathing did not change when the antiseptic touched his flesh, but his gaze drifted up towards the treeline, towards distances you could not follow.
Inside the shrine, incense began to burn. You had not lit it.
The scent curled through the damp air, bitter and sweet.
âI brought food,â you offered, because talking about rice balls was easier than saying you were afraid that one day he wouldnât be sitting beneath the eaves when you arrived.
Itachiâs mouth softened. âYou shouldnât.â
âYouâve mentioned.â
âYou should forget this road.â
âI have a good memory.â
âThatâs unfortunate.â
When you tied the bandage tighter than necessary, his eyes returned to you.
You saw it in his face then, that slight fracture in his composure, so delicate anyone else would miss it. You, however, had learnt the language of Itachiâs almosts. His almost smiling, almost reaching, almost staying.
A crow dropped from the cedar branches and landed beside his knee. In its beak was a strip of red thread. Itachi took it before you could ask.
âWhat is that?â
âA warning.â
âFrom whom?â
He looked down at the thread in his palm and when he spoke, it was soft, thoughtful. âSomeone who still believes warnings can change fate.â
The shrine bell rang once. Far away, another bell answered. Then another. The sound moved across the forest like grief being passed from hand to hand.
Itachi closed his eyes. You felt the air change. He had made a decision.
âNo,â you said.
His lashes lifted. âI didnât say anything.â
âYou donât have to.â
For the first time, something like pain crossed his face openly. It was gone almost before it arrived, swallowed by discipline, by purpose, by whatever cruel altar he had made of himself years ago.
âYouâve mistaken me for someone who can be saved,â he said.
âI have mistaken nothing.â
His hand rose to your face, and stopped before touching you. That restraint hurt more than contact would have.
âDo not love me,â Itachi said quietly. âI am already leaving.â
The words entered you cleanly, without mercy, and struck your heart.
You caught his hand before he could lower it and pressed his cold fingers against your cheek. For one breath, he let you.
The crows exploded from the trees.
The lanterns inside the shrine went out one by one.
When the darkness reached the doorway, Itachi turned his head towards the forest road.
Someone was walking towards you through the rain, wearing his face.
MADARA UCHIHA â the warlord
content: supernatural horror, curses, blood imagery, shrine/ritual imagery, power imbalance, fate/possession themes, implied forced betrothal
The shrine had been dead for a hundred years, though the villagers still left offerings at its steps.
They did not pray there, not properly. No one rang the bell, no one clapped their hands beneath the rotting beam or bowed long enough for any god to mistake them for faithful. They came at dusk with rice wine, salt, wilted camellias, and scraps of paper inked with names they would not dare speak aloud. Then they fled before moonrise, moving quickly through the trees as if the forest might remember their faces if they lingered too long.
You were sent because you did not believe in curses.
That was what you told yourself as you climbed the cracked stone path with your lantern held close to your cloak, damp from the mountain mist. The trees grew too thick here. Roots strangled the old steps and branches interlaced overhead until the sky narrowed to a torn, black cloth with moonlight caught in its ragged seams. Somewhere beyond the shrine grounds, a murder of crows called once and then even they fell silent.
Inside, dust settled over every inch like funeral ash. The offering table had split down the middle, one half sagging beneath a scatter of old salt and brittle flower stems. Paper talismans peeled from the walls in curled tongues, their ink faded to brown veins. A statue stood at the far end of the hall, too damaged to identify, its face eroded smooth by time.
At its feet sat a bowl of water, untouched by dust and still enough that the moon reflected through a roof that no longer existed.
You stepped closer.
The water turned red.
The lantern guttered in your hand.
âLate,â a voice said.
You turned too quickly and nearly dropped the light.
A man stood beneath the broken torii gate where no man had stood a breath before wearing armour dark as old blood. His hair fell wildly around a face cut from arrogance, violence, and fatigue. His eyes were not merely red, they were ancient wounds opened anew.
You knew him before your mind ever permitted the knowledge.
Every child knew Madara Uchiha by silhouette alone. The warlord, the ghost of battlefields, the name buried beneath treaties because peace could not survive speaking it too often.
âYouâre... dead,â you whispered.
Madara looked almost amused. âAs are many things worshipped by cowards.â
The mist crawled around his feet. Behind him, the trees bowed beneath a wind you could not feel. The shrine changed with his presence, becoming taller, darker, more recalled than ruined, as though waking from a long slumber. The beams groaned overhead, the walls remembered their lacquer, the air filled with incense though none had been lit.
You reached for the kunai at your hip.
His gaze followed the movement with imperial disinterest.
âIf I wanted you dead, little descendant of trembling men, you would not have had time to fear me.â
âIâm not afraid.â
At that, he smiled.
It was not kind. It was worse. It was pleased.
âYou lie badly.â
He came forward, each step unhurried, and the shrine accepted him. That was the only word for it. The floor did not creak under his weight; the shadows arranged themselves behind his shoulders; moonlight caught on his armour and came away sharpened.
You held your ground because pride was the last poor weapon left to you.
Madara stopped close enough that you could see the fine cracks in one plate of his armour, the old faded scar at the corner of his mouth, and the strange weariness buried beneath his terrible composure.
âWhy am I here?â you asked, though your voice came out weaker than intended.
His eyes lowered to your face. âBecause history has a longer memory than the living.â
âThat isnât an answer.â
âIt is the only answer you are prepared to understand.â
You should have stepped away, you knew that. Every instinct in your body understood that this man was not safe. Especially not in the ways a shinobi measured danger. He was not a blade at your throatâhe was the mountain deciding whether gravity still pleased him.
His hand rose, slowly. He touched two fingers beneath your chin, so lightly it was almost reverent. The shock of it passed through you with humiliating force.
Madaraâs expression shifted. Something in him had faltered, brief as lightning behind cloud.
âYou were promised to me by history itself,â he rumbled, voice low and quiet in his chest.
You sucked in a sharp breath. âNo one promised me to anyone.â
His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. Barely there, barely a touch at all.
The shrineâs bell rang, once, deep underground, and Madaraâs gaze moved past you towards the statue at the end of the hall.
Its faceless head had turned.
Your lanternâs flame sputtered and died.
In the sudden darkness, Madaraâs hand closed around yours. Not gently, but not cruelly. He took your hand as though the world had opened beneath you both and he had decided you would not fall alone.
âThen tell history no,â he remarked.
The floor beneath the shrine split open under your feet.
You knew because you had walked this road every morning for three months, past the broken bridge, past the persimmon tree split by lightning, past the field where nothing grew though summer had come early. There had been no house, no gate squeaking on its hinges, no warm square of light behind paper windows.
Now it stood at the end of the road as though it had been waiting for you all your life.
It was a small house, perfectly ordinary at first glance. Dark roof, wooden steps, wind chimes singing softly under the eaves. Morning glories climbed a fence you did not remember planting.
Your name was carved into the gate.
You should have run. Instead, you opened it.
Inside, it smelled of rice, rain, and something almost painfully familiar. The entryway held your sandals, though you had never removed them there. A cup sat on the table, filled with the tea you preferred. In the corner, a half-mended tear in your old cloak had been stitched with clumsy, careful thread.
The room knew you, that was the first horror.
The second was that you wanted to sit down.
âYou came home early.â
The voice came from behind you.
You turned, and Obito Uchiha stood in the doorway with flour on his sleeve and one visible eye curved in a smile.
This was not the masked man from rumours, nor the war criminal whispered about in briefings. This was not the thing that had crawled out of history carrying too many dead with him. This Obito looked younger around the mouth. Tired, yes, and scarred, and wrong in ways your instincts recognised before your heart did, but he smiled at you as if nothing terrible had ever happened.
As if nothing terrible ever needed to happen again.
âWhere am I?â you asked.
âYouâre home,â he stated simply, his smile thinning at the edges.
âThisâ isnât my home.â
âIt could be.â
The wind chimes sang.
You took one step back. The floorboards did not creak, nothing in the room moved unless he allowed it to. Obito watched you with aching patience.
âI made it from memory,â he said. âThe parts you liked. That kitchen from the place you stayed in the Land of Waves. The window from that inn near the border. The garden from the village you said smelled best after rain.â
Your breath caught painfully in your throat. âIâŚI never told you that.â
âNo,â he murmured softly, âyou didnât.â
Outside, the sky remained a perfect, tender blue. Too blue.
You went to the window and looked out. The road was gone. The field was gone. Beyond the fence, there was only garden after garden, all blooming impossibly. No insects. No rot. No distant smoke from war camps. No sound except the bell-bright chatter of water over stones.
A world without injury. A world without interruption. A cage made of flowers.
Obito came to stand behind you, not touching, but close enough that his warmth reached your back.
âYou were tired,â he explained. âEvery time I saw you, you were tired. Fighting, losing people. Pretending it didnât matter because everyone else was doing the same.â
You stared out at the garden until the colours blurred.
âSo you built a prison?â
âI built a place where nothing can take you from me.â
âYou donât have me.â
The silence that followed was the first imperfect thing in the house. Then Obito chuckled once, very gently. It was not amusement; it was damage learning how to breathe.
âNo,â he conceded. âNot yet.â
You turned on him then and his expression had changed. The sweetness was still there, but behind it, something vast and starving looked as though it was trying to crawl through the seams. One eye red, one eye lost forever to shadows and old bargains.
âI made a kinder world,â he sighed. âWhy are you afraid of it?â
âBecause youâre the one who made it!â
He reacted to that as though you had struck him. You saw the movement, saw the boy beneath the monster flinch.
For one dangerous second, the house trembled.
The cup shattered on the table. The garden outside flickered, black earth bleeding through beneath the flowers. The far wall opened onto a battlefield slick with rain and blood, and for a moment, you heard screaming.
Then Obito closed his eye and the house became whole again.
âI can make you happy here,â he said.
âNo.â
His gaze lifted.
In the hallway behind him, a door appeared where there had not been one before. Your bedroom door from childhood.
Obito looked at it, then back at you.
âThat room was the hardest,â he said. âI had to guess what you dreamt about.â
As the words left his lips, the door handle began to turn.
SASUKE UCHIHA â the last heir
content: supernatural horror, haunted house, massacre and death references, ominous presence, claustrophobic atmosphere
The Uchiha compound did not rot.
That was the worst part.
Rot would have been merciful. Rot would have softened the beams, swallowed the blood, turned grief into earth and fungus and something honest. Instead, the compound endured. Roof tiles remained aligned, doors slid open on well-oiled tracks, the pond still reflected the moon. Even the wind moved through the streets as if afraid to disturb what had happened there.
The dead had kept house.
You arrived at dusk with a key from the Hokage and a task no one else wanted. Inventory, preservation, and removal of unstable materials. Careful bureaucratic phrases for walking through a massacre with a clipboard.
Sasuke was already there. He stood in the central street beneath the black skeleton of an old lantern post, his cloak lifting in the evening wind. He did not turn when you approached.
âYou shouldnât be here,â he said.
âI was assigned.â
âSo was he.â
You did not need to ask who. The compound listened for your answer.
That was how it felt from the moment you crossed the gate. Every wall seemed alert, every window dark but aware. The place had the awful intimacy of a room where an argument had just stopped.
âI can leave,â you said.
Sasukeâs shoulders moved almost imperceptibly. âNo.â
It was not welcome. It was not a refusal. It was simply the only permission he knew how to give.
You worked through the first house in silence. Records, weapons, ceremonial clothing, framed photographs turned face-down in drawers. In one room, a childâs wooden shuriken lay beneath a low table.
Sasuke saw it before you did. His hand twitched, then went still.
You looked away.
Outside, crows gathered along the roofline and by midnight, you had reached the main house.
The air changed at the threshold. Sasuke stopped moving.
You felt it before you understood. Heat without fire, pressure without movement, the sensation of standing before something that knew your name and disliked the sound of your breathing.
âThis house remembers everything I tried to forget,â Sasuke breathed. His voice was flat. His hand was shaking, but only slightly, only because the house saw him too.
You stepped inside first.
The entryway smelled of dust, cedar, and old smoke. A pair of sandals sat neatly by the wall, too small for him now. A crack ran through the mirror above the washing basin, splitting your reflection from throat to brow.
Sasuke entered behind you, and every lamp in the house went out.
Instinctively, you reached for a weapon. His hand caught yours in the dark.
âDonât.â
The word was close to your ear, closer than he had been a second ago.
For a moment, the only living thing in that house was the warmth of his palm against your knuckles.
Then something moved upstairs. Not a footstep.
A drag.
Sasuke released you and his sword whispered free of its sheath. You could see nothing but the faint outline of him, black on black, breath held so tightly it seemed the air itself might bruise.
âWhat was that?â you asked.
âJust the house settling.â
You raised an eyebrow at him in the dark. âYou donât believe that.â
Sasuke hesitated. âNo. I donât.â
A door slid open above you. Then another. Then another.
The sound moved down the hall in sequence, slow and deliberate, as if someone were passing through rooms and leaving them open. As it went, the dragging continued.
Sasuke started towards the stairs, but you caught his sleeve before he could begin his ascent. He looked down at your hand. In any other place, he might have pulled away. Here, he let the contact remain.
âDonât go alone,â you pleaded.
His mouth tightened, flattening into a line. âIâm always alone here.â
âNo,â you said, shaking your head. âNot tonight.â
The words altered something.
You felt it and so did he.
The houseâŚexhaled.
A lamp at the end of the corridor flared to life, blue-white and sickly. Its glow revealed a wall you were certain had not been there before. Fresh wood, no dust and a paper charm nailed to the centre with a rusted kunai.
On it, written in a hand identical to Sasukeâs, was your name.
Sasuke stared.
âThat wasnât here before,â you whispered.
His sharingan opened in the dark and from behind the new wall, something knocked three times.
You met Shisui Uchiha three days after his funeral.Â
The village had buried an empty story and called it closure. There had been no body for most to mourn, only rumours folded into official silence, only ANBU shadows lingering too long near the Naka River, only Itachi standing beside the water with his face blank enough to frighten you.
Three days later, Shisui was sitting on the riverbank with his sandals off and his trousers rolled up to the knee.
âDonât scream,â he said cheerfully.
So you screamed. Naturally.
Shisui winced. âThatâs fair.â
You should have run for the nearest patrol, you should have thrown a kunai, you should have done any of the things shinobi were trained to do when the dead appeared at dusk, smiling as if lateness were their only crime. Instead, you stood ankle-deep in river mud and stared at him.
He looked alive.
Not ghostly, not pale, not transparent beneath the dying light. Alive. Warm colour in his face, dark hair slipping loose around his forehead, that familiar, beautiful quicksilver smile softening when he saw your shock giving way to something more dangerous.
Hope.
âNo,â you breathed.
Shisuiâs smile faded then. âI know.â
âYouâreâ youâre dead.â
âI know.â
âStop agreeing with me,â you huffed.
That almost brought the smile back. You hated how badly you wanted it.
The river moved quietly between you, evening insects humming in the reeds. Across the water, the trees leaned close, keeping counsel. Shisui looked down at his bare feet, toes just touching the current.
âI didnât mean for you to see me.â
âThen why are you here?â
His eyes lifted to yours. The question morphed into something else in your mouth.
Why are you here?
Why are you alive?
Why did you leave?
Why does the world look less unbearable now that youâre sitting in it again?
Shisui heard all of them, he always had. That was one of his cruellest talents, understanding the things you had not yet forgiven yourself for feeling.
âI missed you,â he stated. Simple. Unadorned. Like it was obvious.
A blade between the ribs would have been kinder.
You laughed once, because anything else would have sounded too close to weeping.
âThatâs not fair.â
âNo.â
âYou donât get to haunt me and say things like that.â
His gaze dropped to the water again. âIâm not trying to haunt you.â
âThen what are you trying to do?â
The river darkened as the sun sank behind the trees.Â
For the first time, Shisui looked afraid.
Not of you, not even of death. He was afraid to speak the answer to that question aloud.
âI donât know.â
You came back the next evening. And the next. And again after that.
Each time, he was there at the edge of the Naka River, alive in every way that mattered until dawn came too close. He told you things in fragments, but never enough, never the part that explained the impossible. He laughed when you were angry, went quiet when you were kind. Once, when you slipped on the wet bank, he caught you by the waist and his hands were warm through your clothes.
Too warm for a ghost. Too dear for a lie.
On the seventh night, you touched his face.
Shisui went still as stone.
His skin was damp from the river mist. His eyes searched yours with a grief so carefully hidden it could only belong to someone who had been beloved and doomed at once.
âYou feel real,â you whispered.
âI am real.â
âThen why do I wake up every morning with river water on my hands?â
His expression broke open. Only for a moment, only enough to show you the terror beneath the charm, but it was enough.
âDo you?â he asked.
Your blood seemed to freeze in your veins. The reeds stopped moving and far across the river, a crow called from the dark.
You stepped back from him.
Shisui stood quickly, reaching for you.
âNoâ Wait!â
âWhat did you do?â
Shisui held his hands up as though in surrender. âNothing you didnât ask me to.â
âI never asked you for this.â
His sharingan bloomed red in the dusk, not as a threat but as a plea.
âYou did,â he whispered desperately. âYou just donât remember.â
Behind him, the Naka River began to flow backwards.
a/n: as you can see, i got possessed by gothic literature and decided to make a series of naturo characters as gothic horror/romance tropes since the naruto cast is basically emotional asbestos wrapped in pretty trauma
i'll be making a tag list for this series, please let me know in the comments if you would like to be on it đ¤
All rights reserved. Please do not repost, copy, translate, plagiarise, or feed my work into AI. Reblogs are deeply appreciated; reposts are not permitted.
bf!shisui who is a golden retriever in a clan full of black cats.
bf!shisui who's primary love language is physical touch. whoâwhen alone with youâcan't keep his hands off of you. who finds it so cute when you give him a hug before he heads out on a mission. who always whispers "one more," whenever he's caught up with kissing you. it's never just one more with him.
bf!shisui who's an absolute menance that loves teasing you. it's one of his favorite pasttimes.
bf!shisui who's second language is quality time. who loves nothing more than to be at home with you and just be. who in those moments, doesn't feel like shushin no shisui, the shinobi who has a flee on sight order. for a moment, he allows himself to forget about everything related to his life as a shinobi and simply focus on the feeling of you in his arms.
bf!shisui who loves when you play with his hair. who can spend the entire day laying on your lap and let your gentle fingers scratch at his scalp. he'll insist that he won't fall asleep on your lap this time, but he always does.
bf!shisui who regularly trains with you (if you're a shinobi). who takes great pleasure in pinning you to the ground and can't help but tease you when you squirm and try and break free from his grip. expect a kiss on the nose during these instance, his playfullness coming out.
bf!shisui who never thought domestic life would be so sweet. waking up next to you every morning, greeted with the sight of your relaxed, sleeping face. who holds you from behind whenever you're cooking. and whenever he doesn't have any missions, is purposely slow with eating just to indulge in the simplicity as long as possible.
bf!shisui who keeps dates simple, but meaningful. who's favorite is when he would take you out to a small clearing in the outskirts of village, lay down next to you and watch as the stars. who is much more interested in watching your face, illuminated by the moonlight.
bf!shisui who can read you like a book, perseptive to the point you wonderedâone more than one occasionâif he can somehow read your mind. you can't hide anything from him. who's incredibly attentive, notices the smallest things like if you have a new favorite food, or if you got a new pair of sandals. it comes to a point where it feels like he knows you better than you know yourself.
bf!shisui who confides in you about a lot of things, but never about the situation regarding his clan and the brewing coup de'etat. he can't bring himself to do because he knows you'll worry, knows that you'll try and get involved for the sake of his safety. who refuses to put you in harm's way.
bf!shisui who starts to distance hisself towards the end of his life. who knows that he doesn't have the willpower to go through what must be done if you try and talk him out of it. as much as he loves you, he has to do it. for the sake of the village and for the people who he holds dear to his heart.
bf!shisui whoâafter giving itachi his right eyeâasks him to send you one last message and handing him a small box before falling to his death. who's thoughts are filled with your smile and laugh and his favorite moments with you playing like a slideshow in his mind.
bf!shisui who leaves behind small trinkets in the box, things that remind you of your time together over the years which itachi gives you in the days after his death.
bf!shisui who's guilt is palpable on the pages of the letter he wrote for you before he died as he apologizes for leaving you behind. who hopes to find you again in another life and thanks you for being with him when he was still alive.
...but make it kagehina || kageyama x reader x hinata
warnings. lite!nsfw. minors DNI.
content. 1.6k words || fem!reader || got a bit of a senpai!reader thing here || libero!reader || heavy petting || competing for your attention || ice baths, recovery, soreness, and stretching || shoyo being hard the entire time || tobio being hard some of the time || tobio being a good boy || your daily reminder that tobio is dumber than hinata
á˛đź pre note. this is actually a draft from 2024 (Yikes!!!) but i filled it out and polished it up.
"Her?"
Two pairs of eyes landed on your contorted body, rolling out the side of your hip in the grass.
You looked strong and friendly, and much like their own libero, had a killer smile. Nishinoya hadn't stopped chatting your ear off since he first found your grassy spot, but you didn't look as annoyed as your other teammates by his persistent need for validation.
They were grateful for your kind-natured attention to be on his demonstrative jumping and sliding-- because only then that they could freely watch your shorts slide up and get stuffed between your thighs.
Some shifting shoes on the pavement.
Kageyama shied away almost as soon as he felt his stomach get warm- Hinata couldn't tear his eyes off of you for a second.
"Yes." Daichi confirmed, "Her."
Their Captain brushed their hesitancy off. His concentration was captured by the ice cup torturing his bruised shin, "(Y/n)- she's a second-year, so show her some respect. Learn-- God-," Another wince, "Something."
The way over was a painful struggle because they knew what to aim for on each other.
Hinata kicked the taller boy's asscheek when he failed to land the first hit, but Kageyama won fair and square by landing one big, brutal punch to his back. It propelled him forward and knocked the breath out of him, so he'd have to stutter out the greeting on their behalf.
"Daichi told us to-!"
Big, round eyes flitted from your full chest to your face, marked by amused interest.
His voice died in his throat so, he had to croak out the rest of his sentence, "Learn... something. From y-ou..."
Nishinoya stood up straight with a vicious scowl. All three identified each other as a threat in an instant, thanks to Hinata's clumsy introduction. A powerful exchange of harsh looks left their own libero outnumbered. He only dismissed himself because he got to show off what he wanted to, already.
"Sure!" You patted the grass next to you.
"What's ailing ya?"
Kageyama's legs were just as wobbly and weak as the rest of their team; this he didn't need a witchy or laborious remedy for, so you brushed him off. With the state and generally clueless nature Hinata sported, you figured that he had more than likely hurt himself.
You nod along as he explained, poorly, and loudly, when and how he thought it happened.
With each affirmation to the runt, Kageyama fell deeper into a self-inflicted turbulence.
"Ohh, okay..."
"I see..."
"Well, we can try a few things, Shoyo."
You took the roller from your side and offered it to him. He accepted it after a moment of hesitation, then looked back up, "What is this?"
"It's a roller, idiot."
Kageyama's intensity earned him a disgusted look from you.
You pointed at him, snapped your fingers, then pointed to a spot in the grass, "Watch it."
He shifted, warm. He kind of likes it. It is attention, after all. He moved slowly, with ample struggle, to sit down with the two of you, and didn't back-talk.
His head buzzed, lids heavy, as you stretched into a demonstration of what Hinata should do.
Your shorts were not double-lined. You were not wearing a sports bra.
He held his breath watching your back bend against the tool. Your top rode up, and his head raised, twisted, to see catch the softness of your tummy. He trailed up and lingered on the curve of your breasts. The lazor-focus ends on your knuckles, fixing the pink strap back up on your shoulder with a barely audible snap!
It was enough to bring a tiny, throaty hum out of him. It took him back out of his little moment.
He inhaled hard through his nose and blinked away the cloudy lust as best as he could, rubbing goosebumps off of his forearms.
"'Kay, Shoyo, your turn."
You asked, hand tapping his knee, "Shoyo?"
Kageyama looked at the back of his friend's head and assumed he might be coming back from a similar experience. He could practically see the steam rising from his colorful hair.
Attempting to help, he hissed, "Hey, runt!"
You gave him another cruel look, but looked at Hinata- who was back to the land of the living- and decided to keep your warning to yourself.
He didn't exactly settle, like he should have, on the roller.
"Too much?" You frowned.
His face worked with struggle. A light, pale sweat on his brow. Poor guy couldn't even handle moving more than an inch. He must've done just a step under straining his lower back.
You stepped one leg over him and bent at the hips to try to help out. He wouldn't get any better if he couldn't at least loosen up a little.
Kageyama paused his own rolling to shamelessly gape at you. His jaw dropped, body sinking dumbly with a silent scoff of disbelief. He memorized the little arch in your spine, how you made bending over look like an art form.
"This-," You started by fisting two handfuls of his bunched up shirt and shorts at the bend of his hips, then pulled his weight off of the ground by leveraging your own, "Should help."
The relief gave him the ability to breathe deeply once again, but it zeroed his remaining focus into you. Your hold.
"H-ah-h, hah!" He grimaced, panting, and sweating.
Your hands were right next to his dick.
"Sh-hm-mn," He spared a squirrely glance to Kageyama. They met eyes for a moment, equally shocked.
Hinata clawed grass up out of the ground and had to squeeze his eyes shut. Usually if he flexed his thighs hard enough, it'd turn into a half-mast situation, but his cock kicked, eager, at how your tits looked ready to fall out of that tank top.
"Is that better?" You had the audacity to ask him.
A strained, "Mhm!"
He moved his body slow, back and forth, with your direction, encouragement, and physical aid. It did eventually get easier once his back stopping seizing up and his eyes were shut for long enough.
Even Kageyama could see how hard he was. He leaned at an awkward angle and watched your eyes carefully, trying to figure out if you had any clue what you were doing.
You kept your gaze limited to Hinata's cherry-red face. It was done out of effort to be helpful and lessen his pain. When your Captain informed you that the guys would probably be a hopeless gang of beat-up idiots, you took it with a grain of salt- but she was more right than you were prepared for. They left you dazed with how much they didn't know about recovery.
He couldn't even pull the roller out from under himself when you were done.
"You should go take an ice bath," You turned your head to Kageyama- who turns straight-up pink that you're speaking to only him, "Don't take more than five minutes, though. Sometimes it can do more harm than good."
He was slow to understand that you were sending him away. The realization dawned seconds after you helped a nearly-liquid Hinata up to his feet. He was shaky, whimpering, and twisting in odd directions for a couple reasons.
"You're... surprisingly- dense," You strained under the little guy's weight.
Your double entendre went ignored.
"Wait- why me?" Kageyama asked you, flat. He jutted a firm finger to Hinata.
"He needs it way more than me!"
You raised your brows, hands on your hips, and tilted your head in thought, "Ohh! Nono, I meant both of you."
Hinata sputtered out a, "What?"
The pathetic sound spread a wide, toothy grin across his friend's jaw and, coupled with the fact that you told him to, renders Kageyama without an argument. They trudged the distance, trading looks back at you and tanking each other's slaps and shoves along the way.
Nishinoya walked past them in the opposite direction with loud and targeted laugh. He resumed his rightful place by you in the grass, once more. Flexible as always, cocky beyond measure, but just as smitten.
Getting into the tub of freezing cold water and ice did not take very long. Kageyama pushed him in first with a laugh, then got pulled in second by the ankle.
They surfaced, gasping, and sobered. It was painful beyond measure.
"AAAAAAHHH!!!"
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!"
Upset, confused, heart pounding, and chock-full of raging hormones, Hinata proclaimed once he had air in the lungs that he was going to ask you out.
"Shut up!" Kageyama barked at him.
It would be clear to anyone else that there was no plan, no real threat; this was a fantasy at best, and not even a thorough one at that.
Hinata clenched his fists against the tub rim- only letting up for a moment when his back spasmed. It only made him more sure that you'd fix all his problems, since you knew so much about his body.
"I'll do it today! Au-gh-- yeah! Be-f-ffore we leave."
Kageyama, dead serious, muttered to only him between his teeth-chattering, "I will f-ff-fucking kill you."
"Y-you think she would talk t-tah-ha you?" Hinata puffed his chest out, an iron stare right back at him, "You're-r-r dumber t-t-th-than I thought!"
Kageyama's momentary silence and wobbly lip gave him an irresponsible amount of courage to keep going.
"Sh-shshe wouldn't even know you existed if it was-ssn't for me!"
His irritation reached its peak at last, "Yeah?"
"Y-,"
A slap filled with ice landed right to the side of his face.
They shared similar shouts and gargled screaming as they started pushing and pulling each other under the slushy, painful water.
á˛đź post note. i never know what to tag stuff like this. like i don't want to fill the fluff tag with nsfw, but this isn't full smut. it's def not angst. s ssoo i guess the safest course of action is tagging as smut?
Hii since ur requests r open, can I request a haikyuu fic? Kyotani or mattsukawa specifically since they're so underrated đ thank you!!!
of course, babe! i gotchuu
baby, im a dog, im a mutt!
. Ýâ âš . Ý âĄ Ý . âš â Ý.
k. kyotani x fem!manager!reader
2nd year kyotani, 1st year reader
synopsis °ââ.ŕłŕż*: kyotani needed a tutor. and a psychologist, apparently.
w.c - 5.1k
. Ýâ âš . Ý âĄ Ý . âš â Ý.
kyotani was a mean boy. rough around the edges, quite literally snarled at anyone who breathed wrong around him. 24/7, he looked as if he had a reason to kill someone.
he was incredibly independent and was not willing to work with others. the only people on his team that could calm him down were iwaizumi (the only guy he really respected) and yahaba, who was pretty shallow and chill.
then, there was you. not too shy, not exactly extroverted- a sweet spot in the middle. kind and always willing to help, but never a pushover. you were thoughful- not just the generous kind, but you understood people on a deeper level than anyone you knew. your words always held meaning and people respected you for that.
you had joined aoba johsai as a team manager around two months after your first year began. you loved volleyball and the passion the team had when you watched one of their practice matches, so you were instantly hooked.
and well, you knew kyotani needed help. not just the academic tutor kind, but the... personal kind. now, he would never ever ever admit that, but a few words from iwaizumi had pushed him.
"you're not going to get anywhere in your volleyball career if you cant work with the team. kyotani, you need to be serious about this- you've literally been banned from matches with other schools because of your hot-headedness. c'mon, man."
kyotani only scowled as hajime patted him on the back. "whatever."
now, looking at you, quite literally radiating (he cant figure out why) with a shy, nervous smile made him itch with interest repulsion.
"hello, everyone! im l/n y/n and i will be your new manager. i know i'm the first, but ill be sure to do my very best," you said nervously as the team was gathered around.
"oikawa, don't get distracted," the coach dead-panned, looking absolutely drained of life as he side-eyed oikawa grinning.
toru stepped up, reaching towards to shake your hand. "thank you for being our manager! we'll do our very best, too, pretty lady," he exclaimed. like your signature action, you smiled again, nervously.
they started warming up as you helped set up the net. nothing much happened during the practice besides a ball missing your head by an inch. you looked up, dumb-founded as you saw a blonde guy- kyotani, you later learned, scowling at you as he ordered another set from oikawa.
you smiled awkwardly for a moment before walking off to grab the cooler full of ice-cold water bottles you had prepared beforehand.
after practice, you hopped onto your bike, waving everyone a goodbye as you rode home.
the next day at practice, you noticed a bit ofâŚstaring. from both iwaizumi and kyotani. you did your best to ignore it and not make eye contact, but it was a bit strange. you had a feeling they'd talk to you later.
kyotani smashed the ball to the other side of the court, the ball bouncing up and hitting the ceiling. your eyes were wide in amazement, practically sparkling. oikawa placed a hand on your shoulder as he passed by. "dont be too amazed, cutie." you could only blush in response.
kyotani didn't scare you as much as he scared others. he looked angry at the world, but you knew he had his calmer moments, although rare. he just looked like an angry dog- all bark, no bite.
days passed without anything out of the ordinary. you had begun to be good friends with a few members of the team, even offering to help them in the subjects they struggled with so they could stay on the team, including kyotani.
although kyotani was quite dismissive of your offers, you couldn't bring yourself to do the same to him. you overhead oikawa calling him "mad-dog" at one of the practices, and you could only giggle softly. he shot you a glare that made you stop immediately, but a small smile stayed on your face.
during the practices, the members often came up to you for advise.
"how was my hitting form?" kindaichi asked straight-up. "i tried to adjust to the higher set, but it didn't feel right."
you pondered, remembering his slightly askew form. "well, i think your arm didn't draw all the way back before you hit, so your overall spike was weaker than it could've been," you said, swaying on your feet as you spoke. he nodded along, listening intently. he thanked you and jogged off.
you smiled, so happy that you could help you the team. then, you heard the yelling.
kyotani and oikawa had gotten into an argument- something about a set too high or low- but you were having none of it. you immediately stomped over, looking at the both of them as they kyotani shoved oikawa.
"coach, what are my rules to stop fights?" you spoke loudly, your voice breaking through the argument, echoing throughout the room so everyone could hear. you kept your eyes on the two of them as you stood there, arms crossed. the two froze momentarily, intimidated by your rare demeanor.
"you have no limits, l/n."
you hummed. they looked towards you, oikawa looking away awkwardly and kyotani huffed, still scowling as always.
"boys, what the fuck is the problem?" you asked sternly, glaring.
"this idiot set the ball too high!"
"everybody makes mistakes- your form was even off!" they bickered, turning back to each other.
"and what makes you two think you can cause a scene in the middle of practice, huh? kyotani, i understand your frustration, believe me! but being picky isn't going to get you anywhere. you have to communicate with him- he's not going to listen if all you do is shout at him," you suggested to kyotani calmly. he scoffed, rolling his eyes.
you turned to toru. "and oikawa, as the team captain, you shouldnt be involving yourself in this kind of fight. you should know better." he rolled his eyes begrudgingly. "now, you guys gonna hug and make up or do i need to bench you both for the rest of practice? we still have 30 minutes left.
"do we⌠actually have to hug?" oikawa groaned.
"yes. matter of fact, im gonna make an 'our get along shirt' just so this never happens again."
you turned to the blond and stifled a laugh, looking at his face of utter repulsion towards the idea.
"you fucking serious?" kyotani asked, almost shouting. you nodded. they looked at each other, then at you, then back to each other.
"5...4.." you counted down. instantly, they shared a hug that lasted about a millisecond. you smiled softly, uncrossing your arms as the rest of the gym laughed at continued to practice. "all right, good job. now go practice," you grinned widely, hand on your hips as you mentally patted yourself on the back.
"fuckin' maniac.." kyotani grumbled, walking off angrily. you only smiled.
after practice, iwaizumi gave you a high-five.
"good job breaking them up. even i can't do that," he said grinning.
"y'know, it's really good to get under their skin by giving them two horrible options," you giggled. he nodded, smirking before his manner faded into something more serious.
"hey, uhm... i really have to ask you a favor. its okay if you decline, but.."
"..im guessing its about kyotani, right?" you asked, pausing. he nodded, looking away and scratching his neck.
"well, he needs a tutor. badly. he acts up in class and gets bad grades because he won't pay attention or participate with others. not just that, but... im sure you can see that it affects the team, too. he cant even go to matches anymore," he explained, almost desperately.
âi talked to him about you tutoring him already, and⌠letâs just say he wasnât very fond of the idea. i think if it were you offering, maybe.. heâd be a bit more inclined.â
you nodded along, listening attentively. âmore inclined? how?â
iwaizumi stammered, scratching the back of his neck. âwell, uh- heâd kill me if i told you. literally.â
âim good at keeping secrets.â
âhe thinks youâre⌠cool.â
your eyes widened in surprise, very flattered. you giggled softly, not pushing for more information.
"well, i'm confident that i can tutor him and... try to help him with his attitude, but... i'm not sure he will accept my help," you remarked uncertainly. he nodded.
"i think... you need to give him an ultimatum, like just now. he really loves volleyball, so... if you threaten to take that away for a while, im sure he'll start to listen."
you nodded, knowing that what he said was true, but you felt like a bully if you were to do that to him.
"i... honestly, i dont know if i have the heart to do that," you chuckled. he huffed a short laugh, agreeing.
"sometimes, being harsh with him is what he needs."
you waved him and the rest of the team a goodbye as you went home.
the next day during break, you walked over to the teacher's office, looking for kyotani's homeroom teacher. you recognized him and walked up nervously.
"ahem, sensei?" you asked, watching as he paused and looked up at you.
"i have a question about kyotani's grades. im his volleyball manager, and i have to make sure he keeps up with his academics."
the teacher smiled and nodded. "ah, i see," he spoke lowly, typing on the computer as he pulled up kyotani's. Fs, Ds, and Cs all around. "would you like me to print that for you?"
"ah, yes please!" you exclaimed. he nodded as he pressed a few buttons.
"Seijoh volleyball manager, huh? how're the boys?" he inquired, smirking.
"well, they're certainly a handful, but.. they have passion. i love seeing it." he hummed as he handed you the piece of paper. you thanked him and bowed, walking away as you read the piece of paper.
you analyzed his grades, and his worst subject was english. not your best subject either, but you made a mental note to study english even further. although you were only a first year, you had some advanced classes, so you shared a few with kyotani.
you found him in his homeroom class, scrolling on his phone. warily, you walked up to him. his eyes snapped up as you nervously stood there.
"you gonna say something or stand there like an idiot?" he growled.
"uhm- i need to talk to you about your grades. can i sit?" you stammered, watching him roll his eyes and slam his phone down.
"do whatever the fuck you want."
you pulled the chair out next to him, placing the paper down on the table as you sat.
"look, kyotani, i dont want to do this, but... you need to seriously focus on your academics. i know you dont want to hear it, but... judging by your grades, you may get cut from volleyball soon. not to mention your behavior on the team..." you informed him cautiously.
"what the fuck makes you think you can sit next to me and lecture me about my grades, let alone my behavior? who the fuck do you think you are?" he snapped, causing the other students to scurry out of the room.
you sighed, looking away. "if you keep this up, i'm not going to let you practice. you can't participate in volleyball if you cant participate in class. okay?"
he looked at you like you were an alien, his eyebrows furrowed. "you can't do that!" he shouted.
suddenly, iwaizumi's voice cut through the sound. "she actually can, kyotani," he said calmly, walking over with his hands in his pockets. kyotani shut his mouth, glaring at the both of you. "she has the authority to remove you from practice. either you comply, or you aren't playing the rest of the season."
kyotani scowled, crossing his arms. "fuckin' fine, alright?" he grumbled angrily. you nodded nervously, looking up to iwaizumi for approval. he urged you on as you looked back at kyotani.
"meet me after practice. i'll start tutoring you today," you said. he didn't even look at you as he stood up abruptly, walking off. you sighed a breath of relief, glad that you got it over with.
"you did good. stood your ground," iwaizumi reassured, patting you on the head as you smiled.
"i hope i can get through to him," you said optimistically.
after practice, kyotani met you outside of the gym. he was all sweaty and smelled like musk, scowling as always.
"ready?" you smiled, trying to lighten the mood. he rolled his eyes. "hop on," you said, climbing onto my bike.
"...are you fuckin' serious? im not doing this shit," he stated. you nodded.
"unless you wanna get kicked from the team, i'd hop on" you grinned evily, popping your pink helmet on his blond head.
"i'm not wearing this."
"oh yeah?"
"...fuckin' fine, you damn devil.." he grumbled as you giggled. you tried to clip on his helmet, but he swatted your hands away, much to your dismay.
he climbed on behind you, keeping his arms clutched onto your backpack. with a bit of struggle, having to almost stand to pedal, you both left, waving everyone a goodbye.
after an awkward ride to your house, you hopped off your bike and parked it outside the door, having kyotani place the helmet on the handle. you used your key to get inside, opening the door for him. you both slipped off your shoes.
"ma, i'm home!" you shouted, walking towards the steps.
"ah, and who is this?" your mom came around the corner, scaring you.
"oh- this is kyotani, from the volleyball team! im tutoring him." he gave a polite bow, not bothering to smile or anything.
"thank you for having me," he said, bowing. your mother smiled.
"all right... keep your door open," she said, walking back to the living room. you hummed as you walked upstairs towards your room.
you both silently walked upstairs until you reached your room. you settled in at your desk, pulling out another chair for him.
âso, i think the most help you need right now is english. pull out your missing assignments and i can help,â you said, setting your bag on the table and pulling out your own assignments and placing them on the table. he didnât say anything at first, opting to just take out his things as he sat next to you.
âi donât have any,â he muttered, not looking at you.
âyou- kyotani, youâre failing english with no missing assignments?â you asked genuinely, confused.
âyes, now shut up, seriously,â he muttered, cheeks a bit pink from embarrassment.
âsorry, didnât mean to be condescending or anythingâŚâ you mumbled. âwell, for now, just take out your graded assignments. from there, we can review your weak points and go over them together,â you suggested, trying to cheer up the mood.
he took out his english folder, taking marked papers out and setting them down on your side. you took the first one- a 43/100- and reviewed it carefully, then explained the questions he got wrong.
despite his initial resistance to help, he listened mindfully as you explained, occasionally asking grumbled questions before you happily answered.
âi think you should spend more time paying attention to vocabulary. youâre actually really good at grammar, which is amazing! but all your points get taken because of the blank bits you couldnât fill,â you explained, finger swiping over the questions he missed. he nodded, eyes peering down at the paper.
after you two were done reviewing about half of the stack, he went home. he didnât say thank you or praise you for your intelligence, just a curt little nod in your direction and a wave goodbye to your mother.
the next few weeks continued just the same- school, practice, tutoring. he never really let his guard down, never laughed at any of your silly jokes or shared anything about himself. but, he wasnât angry or mean when he was with you- at least, not as mean as he was with the others. you took that fact with gratitude, never taking it for granted. you held onto the calm, focused look he had when he studied, nothing like the guy you saw on the court.
you did your best to help him calm himself. when his voice would rise, youâd tell him to take a breath before speaking. when he would get frustrated and it looked as if he was going to set his paper on fire, youâd grab his attention for a quick break. you figured it would be awkward to bring up his rather obvious anger issues, so you decided it would be better for the both of you to avoid that uncomfortable discussion.
though, your tactics never truly stuck. heâd brush you off, telling you he was âfine,â rebuild walls you thought you were crumbling. it was understandable, but it broke your heart a bit each time.
strangely to him, you both grew closer. he grew to like tolerate your presence, finding himself wanting to be with you more than not.
the feeling was foreign to him. hate was the norm- the default setting he held for most people. those people held him at face value, saw him as nothing more than an absurdly violent boy with tendencies that no person should ever endure.
but you, with your sickly sweet smile and presence. you, with your welcoming arms and compassionate nature. you, who tried so annoyingly hard to understand him that he somehow forgot what it felt like to hate.
after practice on a gloomy day, you both got to your house, soaked in rain. kyotani was obviously in a shitty mood, but honestly, so were you. you didn't want to have to have to constantly skate on thin ice around him all the damn time.
you were helping him review for an english exam. you were trying so hard to get the grammar through his head when he snapped.
"look, can you fucking quit it already? all your damn nagging is pissing me off," he yelled, obviously frustrated in himself.
"kyotani, im just trying to help!"
"of fuckin' course you are, but i cant figure out why. probably you and your goddamn savior complex-"
"excuse me? i- the whole team shouldnt have to walk on eggshells whenever we're around you! im the one who's fucking helping you raise your grades, you'd be off the team if it werent for me! "
"maybe it would've been better if i hadnât met your sorry ass."
you both paused- your breath caught in your throat. your heart dropped to your stomach, the muscle in your chest clenching in pain as it washed through you. quickly, you humbled yourself.
'right- our friendship, this whole thing between us both doesn't mean anything, anyway. transactional."
he packed his things quickly with nothing more than an angry huff, quickly going downstairs without a goodbye to your mother.
you were frozen in place, rethinking every moment before this. had you really been trying too hard to help him?
you sat back down on your desk, staring into space. you just wanted to help him achieve what he wanted . you wanted to help him stay in volleyball, something he truly loved- because you were his manager. nothing more, nothing less.
a text dinged on your phone after an hour of you scrolling in the dark of your room, spiraling. it was kyotani.
kyotani!! - hey
kyotani!! - yknow i didnt mean that, right?
you read his message, eyes glossy as the hurt washed over you in another wave. his text bubble kept popping up and down, like he was unsure.
kyotani!! - dont make me get all sappy.
he was silent for another minute before he started typing again.
kyotani!! - you've helped me a lot. i wouldn't be doing what i love if it werenât for you.
kyotani!! - i'm sorry. i was being an idiot.
you smiled, brushing away a stray tear.
you - thank you, kyo
you - i'm sorry, i was mean too
kyotani!! - dont apologize
kyotani!! - you were right
kyotani!! - i need to work on myself.
quickly, another week of tutoring went by. he finally passed one of his english tests with a beautiful B+, which you were so proud of him for! as a reward, after practice, you decided to skip tutoring and take him out for a treat.
âbye, everyone! get home safe!â you exclaimed to the team, waving everyone off with a big smile. they reciprocated the goodbye, smiling as kyotani stood there like your guard dog.
you took your pretty pink helmet and placed it on his head. you clicked the buckle as he looked down at you, expressionless.
âhe never let me do that beforeâŚâ you thought to yourself, smiling softly, trying to hide your excited mood. progress!
âwhere do you wanna go, kyo?â you asked, hopping onto your bike as he followed suit, hands closer to your waist than your bag. he grumbled at the nickname- not that he didnât like it, but it was new to him.
âletâs go to the cafe you were talking about last week.â
you gasped excitedly. âthe doggy cafe?â
he hummed lowly, pushing his feet to help you go up the small hill. the ride was silent; not awkward or uncomfortable, but a kind of silence that was tranquil, with the breeze blowing past your ears and the sun shining happily, warm on your skin.
you both arrived at the cafe, kyotani hopping off the bike first. you parked it, but you tripped as you tried to step off. his hand found the handle of your backpack, keeping you from falling to the floor. your cheeks heated up with embarrassment, clearing your throat as you giggled.
âwatch yourself, clumsy,â he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pocket.
âthanks,â you replied softly, clipping off his helmet before hanging it on the handle of your bike.
he walked towards the door of the cafe, pulling the door handle and holding it for you. you offered another thanks, walking past with a grin as you saw the cutest puppies. they met you both with barks, some trying to jump up your legs. you giggled as you crouched down, petting the cute babies. you both were led to a small table with a menu.
âmy treat, of course,â you said, handing him the menu. âim really proud of you for doing so good on your test, kyo!â
he didnât meet your eyes as he scanned the menu, but his soft smile said a hundred words. suddenly, a puppy came up to the both of you. small and blonde, it clawed at your chair until you picked it up.
âawhh, look at this sweet baby,â you cooed as it settled into your lap.
kyotani leaned over, wanting to pet it. suddenly, it perked up and barked, growling as it snapped at his hand. you giggled, petting the doggy as it calmed at your touch.
âkyo, itâs like you,â you giggled, looking up for a moment. he rolled his eyes at the comment, getting up to order for you both at the counter.
you babied the blond chihuahua, scratching his ears as you kissed him on the head.
âwhat a good boy, hmm?â you gushed.
he returned to the table with his and your drink, setting down the tray. you stood up from the table, puppy still in your hands as you ushered him to get up.
âletâs go play!â you exclaimed, smiling brightly.
you scurried off into the middle of the play area, mingling with the puppies. he watched for a moment, gazing at the happiest state heâs seen you in. after, he got up, walking over to sit next to you on the floor.
he played with a dog as it crawled into his lap. he scratched behind its ears, watching as its eyes fluttered shut for a moment. then, he turned to you, eyes furrowed in⌠confusion? reluctance, maybe?
you looked up, looking into his eyes in curiosity. "kyo?"
he shook his head, scoffing. "nevermind."
"kyotani, you can talk to me. i wonât brush you off⌠not like how other people do."
"stop trying to understand me."
"but you want someone to, don't you? otherwise, you wouldn't be contemplating it right now." you had read him like a book.
âyâknowâŚâ he muttered, eyes not meeting yours as he spoke. âi donât like always being so angry and mean,â he said lowly. you nodded, listening intently. âi just⌠donât know how to be anything but that. kind. like you,â he mumbled his last words so softly that you could barely hear him over the barking. you smiled, so soft and bright and so blinding.
âdo you⌠want help, kyo?â you asked. he looked at you before averting his gaze, nodding.
âokay. i can help,â you replied, leaning forward to catch his gaze once more. his permanently sharp eyes had softened, golden irises glowing as he looked at you.
the next day at practice, kyotani got angry like always. this time, instead of scolding him, you brought him to the side.
âkyotani, talk to me,â you said firmly, arms crossed as he was practically pulling out the hair he had left on his scalp.
âthis motherfucker-!â he yelled before you put a finger up to his mouth.
âhey,â you said, looking straight into his eyes.
âhe- this guy tooru fuckinâ oikawa wonât give me the damn sets iâve been asking for. heâs doing it on purpose, y/n!â he exclaimed angrily, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed in frustration.
you nodded along, listening as he ranted to you. eventually, he calmed down after he unloaded his annoyance.
you looked up at him before speaking. âi understand, kyo. oikawa is being unfair towards you. however, you canât control what he does. you know what you can do?â you asked genuinely. he perked up curiously.
âyou can control how you react. most importantly, control what youâre able to, and let go of the rest. what he does is not your decision- but ask yourself, why is he being unfair?â
he paused for a moment, before realization washed over him.
âyou have been unfair to him, too. you criticize him for his bad sets, but never tell him when he gives you a good one. thatâs what you can also control- how you treat others so that they can treat you in kind,â you explained.
he looked down at himself, a bit embarrassed as he scratched at the back of his neck.
âso, whatâre you gonna do? apologize, or make me put you both in the âour get along shirtâ?â you snickered, smiling, lifting the mood a bit. he scoffed in disbelief. âim not kidding,â your face dropped.
âokay, fuck, damn madwomanâŚâ he muttered before walking off. he paused for a moment, looking back.
you both shared a brief moment of understanding- gratitude written over his otherwise scrunched up face. but when you looked in his eyes, his gaze was gentle, like the breeze you felt when you both were on your bike going home.
he turned and walked off to oikawa. once again, you patted yourself on the back.
days turned into weeks as you and kyotani grew closer. his rugged nature melted when you were near, only calm expressions and soft laughter were present. tutoring wasnât exactly tutoring anymore, just study sessions completing homework together- you taught him a bit too well. and when you werenât completing homework, you were talking, playing games, watching movies. he softened himself, for you.
in waves, his walls crumbled, and behind them shined a bright sun you were so grateful to see. under his expressions full of hate, was a boy that was your best friend. the team saw it, too- the way his raging fire settled into the soft burn and crackle of a campfire. and it was so, so beautiful.
. Ýâ âš . Ý âĄ Ý . âš â Ý.
it was finally winter, the trees bare of leaves and the cold, sharp and biting against your cheeks and nose.
after practice, kyotani clicked on the pink helmet onto your head instead of letting you put it on his.
âhuh?â
âi drive today,â he states smugly, grinning as you both hopped on. comfortably, you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging his torso.
âkyo, where are we going?â you asked as he made a few different turns than the normal route to your house. he didnât respond, but you knew you were safe in his hands.
you ended up at a small river that ran through the area, wind blowing softly through the autumn leaves. you hopped off the bike, letting him unclop your helmet as you stared bewilderedly at the beautiful sunset.
you turned around, seeing him standing with a small bouquet of flowers and your favorite candy/chocolate. your face heated up, eyes widening in surprise.
âkyotani-â
ây/n,â he spoke, voice low and soft. he stepped forward, looking into your eyes.
âi-â he stumbled over his words, taking a deep breath before sighing.
âi- uhm, had a whole damn speech, but⌠yknow im not good with words.â
you giggled, smiling from ear to ear. âitâs okay, take your time.â
âyouâve been so patient for me throughout these months. i know how much that fuckin sucked,â he grumbled out, making the both of you laugh softly.
âbut⌠im grateful you did. im grateful you stuck around, even when i pulled away. my life feels a lot clearer, now that youâre in it. itâs not as clouded anymore, and insteadâŚ
i can see my future. and itâs bright. and itâs full of you,â he smiled, unabashedly and wild, something he had never done before.
tears welled in your eyes as he looked down at you, his look full of admiration.
âyouâve kept me in line since the first day i met you. nobody could do that before. nobody but you.
this isnât a marriage proposal, but⌠in every way i can imagine, i can only picture my years ahead with you in it.
so⌠let me be your boyfriend? please.â
your eyes were already dripping with tears, much to his surprise.
âshit- fuck, did i do something wrong? goddamnit, i yap my mouth off for once and make you fuckinâ cry, i said too much, didnât i?â he rambled on, wiping your tears with the sleeve of his sweater.
you broke out in a beautiful smile, giggling as the fluffy fabric tickled your face. he breathed a sigh of relief.
âkentaro,â you whispered, so gently and spoken with tenderness. he looked into your eyes, fully at attention.
âthereâs nothing i would want more than to be with you,â you giggled, pulling him into a bear hug, arms wrapping around his neck. he smiled into the crook of your neck,
âgood,â he mumbled into your ear, âi didnât have a plan b.â
. Ýâ âš . Ý âĄ Ý . âš â Ý.
yo im actually so proud of myself... sorry this took so long LMFAO
tsukishima and yamaguchi are incapable of sharing you
is this a big metaphor? maybe. i dunno. it's steamier this way. read between the lines or something. two weeks of having a cold? or covid? or the flu? idk what it was but it burnt me outttttt
warnings. suggestive, minors DNI
details. fem!reader / suggestive fluff / love triangle? love shape? / fighting over reader / unrequited crushes / suggestive touching / touch starved!tsukki / touch starved!yamaguchi / sports massage, hot / best friends / girls team!reader / sadomasochism clawed its way into my fluff fic / tsukki is transactional / boyfriend material!yamaguchi / brotherzoning, friendzoning / daichi has canon aura / 4.1k words
links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines.
"Oh, wow--," Tsukishima's cruel and quiet snicker at your expense was inevitable. He pushed one side of his headphones off of his ear.
His brow raised in amusement at your exaggerated wobble, how you were unable to stand on your own.
Yamaguchi kept his arms stretched out for you to grab and help yourself up, a master at utilizing any excuse he could to hold you.
"Isn't this- I dunno- kind of excessive?"
He sighed, palms flat against your back as you stumbled into his chest.
He expressed no real urgency to let you go. The guy was -generally- touchy with all of his friends, so it was never worth raising any color flag over.
"We-- hah-h," You gripped his forearm when you tried to take another excruciating step on your own. You sunk to the floor so fast he didn't even think to try and catch you.
It spurred another rare, genuine laugh from Tsukishima.
You cleared your throat with some attitude, and attempted to gather your dignity before trying to get up again.
"-We did lose."
Now, especially, you could truly appreciate his tendency to help. This practice had been group punishment for losing your last big game.
Sparing the gruesome details, it left most of the first-years in horrible condition. Even the more experienced girls on the team were ambling away at a slower pace, wincing, under the weight of their own bodies and struggling to take one step down from the gymnasium.
"(Y/n)!!"
You all stiffened. That was Michimiya's voice- you thought all the upperclassmen had gone, but she popped her head out from the exit and sounded just as intimidating as usual.
"Yes ma'am?" You called, a grimace all over your face.
The two boys shifted further away. They weren't technically supposed to be here, yet, and kept their heads tilted to the floor, expecting to be scolded for not going straight home.
"Head to the training room and roll your legs out-- I need you better before Friday! You two--," She hesitated before telling them to leave, vaguely aware that you were all buddies. "Help her, please."
"Yes ma'am!!"
Just like that, she was gone. Your eyes were shining. You were needed. For the team.
"Oh my gosh..." You bit your lip.
"That's awesome!" Yamaguchi laughed, excited for you. If Daichi had told him something like that, he'd be over-the-moon happy.
Tsukishima crossed his arms, unable to relate, and now tied to this place even longer.
He didn't validate your silent request to be helped. He only came across as cruel, but his real reason was objectively worse.
Thankfully, Yamaguchi was there to fill in the gaps of his awkward, ill-timed difficulty. You smiled at his light concern, an 'okay' of sorts to let him know he could find your condition funny, too.
"Th-anks-- hh-ah... shit,"
It was so much worse now. You wished you had listened to your teammates, to not sit down ten minutes ago, no matter how much you felt like you needed to.
Tsukishima watched, hands deep in his pockets with no intention to be of free service. That sound of struggle was almost as satisfying as hearing you ask for help.
You didn't let go of his hands for a few seconds. The weight of your body was a lot to handle- you kept his palms squeezed hard in yours and were beyond grateful he stayed, unbothered by it.
They were technically tasked with getting you to the training room, but you only had faith that Yamaguchi would see it through. Tsukishima might go as far as to get on the first train home, all alone, because that's how much he hated waiting on other people.
Yamaguchi, however, shared in your experience. His eyes were bright and his smile always waiting to agree, or laugh, or ask you something.
"Can ya walk?" He giggled.
His freckled hands stayed, attentive, at your sides, as you laughed with him and tried.
Moving was doable, but only in little, shuffle-y, painful, half-steps. Your hamstrings were like guitar strings, pulled too tight from your ass to your knees, your quads as stiff as set concrete, and everything was burning hot to the touch. You worked up another sick sweat, just moving 20 steps.
The two friends shared a look as they slowed down for you. It was worse than they thought- and though they had confided in you earlier, telling you that this was normal, they weren't exactly sure anymore. They hadn't yet been pushed this hard at their own team practices (they actually won their games).
Tsukishima's chortle was mean, targeted, in nature.
"Am I gonna have to carry you?"
Your exhaustion blocked any of your usual retaliation. The suggestion was, unironically, very appealing. He had to ability to take some pain away and was 'offering.'
"Oh!" You groaned, palm on your hip after taking a few tiny steps to get to the wall, "Would you? Please?"
It caught him off guard for an imperceivable second.
He rolled his eyes, his fair skin inadequate cover for the blush you had inspired.
Yet, always the master of masking his emotions, he swung his body in the direction of the training room to evade suspicion, instead, "Hell no."
The multiuse training room was thankfully spared of any life, except for you three clowns. There wasn't even the athletic trainer, paid to stay later for hurt athletes. Most teams were finished up already and all the gear -the weights, the tires, the specialty equipment- was in its proper place.
You glanced to Tsukishima, who was second to make the connection that this was an even bigger waste of his time-- unable to take the sound of him picking on you again, you waved your hand at him, dismissive at his catty sigh.
"You can go home, Tsukki, I know you've got better things to do."
Yamaguchi smirked at the light pink that dusted the fair tips of his ears. He followed close behind you towards the mats, near the recovery gear.
'Reverse-psychology' almost always worked on him, outside of a match.
"Pff- whatever," He cleared his throat, shoving his hands even deeper into his pockets, "It's not a big deal or anything."
It was, in fact, a big deal.
You couldn't take even the softest of featherlight touches, or stretches, or damn near anything that was suggested by your teammates to try.
"You can't just give up," Yamaguchi said, softly, trying to encourage you to try the massage gun again.
"You're just being a crybaby--," Tsukishima shrugged, as if he didn't insult you, and took the thing in his hand, "If you can't do it, one of us should."
Without a second of hesitation, you swiped it from him. That thing was a weapon, with the wrong head attachment and in the hands of somebody with as little sympathy as him.
"Yamaguchi-!" You grew warm, handing it to the nicer of the two, "If- um, one of you has to do it for me. I want Yamaguchi to."
It was the most efficient tool for the job prescribed to you. Break up the lactic acid, promote healing, warm the muscle up for some stretching.
That list seemed so much simpler when pain was not part of the picture.
Having one them subject you to forced recovery was, regrettably, more doable than trying it on yourself. That didn't mean that it was easy.
Yamaguchi knelt atop your legs whilst you lay on your stomach, trying his best to ignore your pleas (as you had asked of him). He kept your leg still as he prodded the machine into your damaged tissue.
It was excruciating. Why did you play this sport?
"Stop-stopstopstop!!"
At last, your begging was met with a precious grain of sympathy. Yamaguchi looked nothing short of conflicted, unable to help without hurting you, but unwilling to let you leave without doing what needed to be done.
He gritted his teeth and looked back at you- to check if you were okay, because you weren't saying anything.
The rapid rise and fall of your ribcage was all he needed to see.
"I'm sorry- I-I can't--,"
He groaned, not knowing what to do, and set the massage gun down by your left leg.
"Oh- my- godddd." The blond boy groaned, horribly impatient in an instant.
The sound of the machine getting turned back on made you jump, but you got squished down before you could even think that there was a need to move faster.
Tsukishima sat backwards on top of you. He wasn't using his entire weight but it was enough to keep you immobile in the ways that mattered. Your muscles seized against your will at the primal realization that he was not going to be nearly as gentle or attentive.
Your shrieking become muffled in your sleeves, but it would've gone just as ignored if you hadn't taken that initiative.
"What are you doing?" Yamaguchi sighed, a bit mean and confused at how he just took over instead of talking about it first.
If he was doing something wrong, he at least wanted the chance to fix it. But that wouldn't fly in this company. Tsukishima was never the type to give people, even his best friend, that much faith.
"I wanna go home dude. I'm--,"
His pressure on the inside of your calf sent you into a full-on seize. He flew to keep your ankle to the ground with a pissed off groan and a heavy thump.
"-Getting- this done."
"You don't have to help!"
Yamaguchi was technically yelling at him, but it didn't sound like it. His voice was raised, a tiny bit louder than the massage gun, and that was about it. It was almost impossible for him to come across as angry. Maybe passive-aggressive, which was, admittedly, jarring enough.
He was met with a signature scoff but didn't back down from it. Yamaguchi had too many reasons not to shy away. If he was that bothered by staying longer, he could go home alone. The chance to hang out with you alone, not to mention the perfect opportunity to touch you, wasn't lost on either of them. Tsukishima knew about his feelings for you. Until now, it was never a topic that needed to be explicitly addressed.
Tsukishima threw a narrowed, cold look through his lashes to him.
That was oh-so-intentional, and a painful thing to process as he barks at you to stop whining so much. His hands are giant, wrapped all the way around your shins, weighing you further down so you can't kick.
You were almost getting used to it- how much it hurt- as you feel Yamaguchi settle next to you and place a reassuring hand on your back.
You're panting, hoarse and labored- you were going to thank him, but Tsukishima makes his way up to your hamstring and you flinch again with your face slammed back into your arms.
"Augh-! Dude!! Ha--Ah!"
Absolutely no remorse in his voice, "Tadashi, c'mere and hold her ankle. I can't do both."
They shared another charged glare behind your back, but Yamaguchi wasn't going to intentionally make things more difficult than they had to be. He wanted to go home too, and wanted you to feel better quicker- this was a necessary evil.
Part of your hoodie sleeve was soaking wet from where you were biting down, grimacing. You were slick with cold sweat, trembling, and could not wrap your head around how torturous this whole ordeal had become.
For a moment, just one tiny, fleeting moment, he took the machine off and you were able to gasp in a non-labored breath. He adjusted to sit on top of your butt (without asking if you were comfortable) and slipped a warm hand between your thighs to grasp your inner leg to keep you still. Yamaguchi's grip on your ankle felt after that- harder.
The pleasant sensation it sent down into your tummy became quickly interrupted by the worst of it.
"Mm-h-!!" You groaned into your clothes.
"Ohh- yeah, you're fucked," Tsukishima laughed in shock at how he could feel the tension, the spasms, under the skin once he placed that godforsaken thing back onto you.
You mostly blocked the rest of the experience out of your mind- it was nauseating, and long, and arduous. Tsukishima made no efforts to make the process any easier by asking you what you wanted, if you needed a break, or if you were okay.
It made the last of it that much sweeter. The training room was quiet, again, once the buzzing was gone.
"That should do it," He muttered, pushing the heel of his palm down the now compliant, though aching, muscle of your hamstring. It was practically mindless.
"Y-eah-," Yamaguchi rolled his eyes at the shameless display.
Tsukishima glanced at him. He cleared his throat and pinched you, just for good measure, then decided for you, "Yeah, that feels better."
You rolled your cloudy eyes just to yourself, unable to lift your head from your weak arms.
"Okay! Jeez! Get off of me."
Another ill-intentioned snicker was almost enough to make you look back. It, instead, only motivated you to tense up your shoulders.
"Did you forget that you have a second leg?"
Yamaguchi would've laughed with him, had he not been so pissed off that he was getting- for lack of a better word here- cucked.
Barely able to peel your chest up off of the ground, you huffed and pushed the stagnant tears from your face.
"You are not doing that again!"
It was another way of saying that you couldn't take it, which, in his twisted mind, was reason enough to smile. He had to adjust himself pretty plainly in front of his freckled, grumpy friend before getting off of you.
You rolled, heavy and slow, onto your back, and didn't spare him any looks. You spoke to the ceiling. "I'll do my own calf. Tadashi,"
His face was softer, attentive, at how you sighed his name. Every word afterward was a lot sweeter, lighter, than the ones that were meant for Tsukishima.
"You get my other hamstring. I can't reach it."
Now 'unemployed,' Tsukishima reclined against his bag, pushed his headphones up, and played on his phone.
You flipped back onto your tummy and pulled down on the hem of your shorts, for some bit of decency. All it did was make Yamaguchi's eyes wander. Tsukishima had already been stealing crystal clear glances.
Those practice shorts left little to the imagination, especially hiked up the way you liked to wear them for training. It did not go underappreciated in this group.
Yamaguchi tried not to stare- he really, really tried. His eyes were bouncing back and forth between where to adjust over you, and where he desperately wanted to cop a feel. It's just that you were turned around, with no way of knowing, and there was nothing too wrong with looking.
Neither of them were bold enough to bring up that your glutes -realistically- were the most worked muscle group that needed to be attended to.
Yamaguchi mirrored his hand placement to where Tsukishima had done it, earlier. He was not prepared at how intimate it felt at all, because his friend had given zero indication that it was such a big deal.
You flinched at the contact even though it was hundred times softer than you had been touched earlier. His palm was unsure, and varied in firmness as he tried to palm your thigh the 'right' way. You were grateful nobody -especially that blond idiot- could see how embarrassed you were, as you buried the side of your face harder into your clothes.
"I'm gonna try to be less gentle- so," He lost his train of thought, captivated in the sight of your softness filling the gaps of his long, tanned fingers, "Um... yeah."
Not-gentle was a good way to describe that massage gun on your stiff leg. But it wasn't a stabbing pain, like how forcefully and suddenly Tsukishima had started.
And yet, you couldn't help the reflex to bend at the knee, and almost nailed him with a powerful kick.
"A-ah! Sorry--," You couldn't quite get the apology out, between gritted teeth.
Since Tsukishima had been too busy peeking out of the corner of his eye to admire the space between your legs, the curve of your ass, and all the shaking, he was quick to grab that free ankle and pin it down.
They shared a mutually surprised expression behind you that, if anything, helped ease their nasty, competitive, and degrading attitudes.
Yamaguchi's face was very warm, his legs, his grip, had to be readjusted-- his fingers felt indescribably good in the midst of so much discomfort. He put more of his weight on you, having underestimated how much you might throw him off.
Neither of the two were saints, but if it were a competition, Yamaguchi at least tried to repress things.
He wanted to be seen as good, as nice, and sweet. Getting brother-zoned all the time sucked but at least it spoke to his positive qualities.
Tsukishima did not care all that much about looking like a good person. Being 'cool' was different, and just as performative, but still, different. He had less internal struggle when it came to checking you out behind your back; his only worry was getting caught, because it made him look interested. Being interested, to Tsukishima, was worse than being a 'nice guy.'
All that to say: He pushed your ankle a bit further to the outside, craning his neck to see just how much those safety shorts actually covered down there.
If he could get Yamaguchi to move his hand out of the way--
"You're doin' it wrong," He sighed, sounding flat- bored, even though he wasn't.
You spared Yamaguchi the responsibility of responding to him.
His nose wrinkled at your assertion that he could possibly be wrong, "The fact that you can talk is evidence enough."
That made your face multiple degrees hotter, and kept you biting a rude reply into your shirt- it pissed your nicer friend off, on your behalf.
"Dude, shut up," Yamaguchi mumbled.
It was ironically something that sounded like it would come out of Tsukishima's mouth, in tone and phrase. He could've told either of you to shut up at any given moment, on any given day, and it wouldn't be a big deal. Coming from Yamaguchi, though--
The blond stiffened, his mouth curled into an absurd grin, but his eyes were fixed and brutal behind his glasses.
All the implications under their words, their jagged tones, were so plain and out in the open. To them. You remained disadvantaged, partially deaf (from the loud massage gun) and mostly blind (turned around), still preoccupied with your physical inability to stay on their conversational level or that emotional space.
To you, they were only trying to help, and the situation had not degraded so much.
You were busy thinking about how Tsukishima could not have been more wrong about Yamaguchi's 'technique.' The pressure had grown, making for a more intense experience than before, with all the new compensation.
An awful, bitter comeback was on the tip of Tsukishima's tongue.
"Woah!" A new voice, one you didn't quite recognize, was at the entrance to the training room, "What're you three still doing here? It's late!"
"Daichi!" Yamaguchi sighs, breathless, for a couple of different reasons.
You winced at his weird readjustment on top of you- and the terrible, sinking feeling that this was inappropriate and semi-public.
Was there no safe place for a bunch of underclassmen to hang out anymore? Since when did the seniors linger for this long? They usually were the some of first out the door, and the guys' team had been done for almost an hour, now.
His grip softens, flittering away, for a moment. A rush of strength finds his legs and he's safely hovering, instead of sitting, on you.
"Oh! Taking turns with the gun? Man-," Even his laugh is leader-like, all punctuated and deep, "Must be pretty bad, huh?"
When he clocks that their captain isn't there to scold, he keeps one palm safely on the mat, instead.
"Do you--," You push yourself up to your elbows again with a groan and a scrunched up face. It helps, to reiterate that this is not some kind of debauchery, "-Have any advice?"
Daichi was there to return some gear. He placed a bag on the table closest to the door, then hung up some keys. All that you could think was how responsible he looked.
He hummed aloud to himself, "Advice...?"
Yamaguchi slowly moved off of you, so as to not look suspicious, but his nervous demeanor always made him look a little bit guilty of something. You waved off his soft apology in favor of staring, curious, at the new presence.
You were able to roll over to your back and sit up, with marked effort- then stilled as their team captain joined your spot on the mats.
He took a second to look between all three of you, face impossible to read, then seemed to recognize you.
"You must be that rookie Yui was talking about," He doesn't realize how important that off-handed statement means to you, "It's nice to meet ya."
"You too," Your voice was ghostly soft, eyes wide, when he sat down to take you through some handy stretches.
His team jacket looks really worn in. His thighs are giant from years of playing. He knows what he's talking about. And your two idiot friends are silent, for once, so he must be super cool. You listen very carefully.
"So, if it's just soreness that you're dealing with, what you wanna do is--,"
"Man-," Tsukishima mutters, an incomprehensible 'What the fuck,' under his breath at those stupid puppy dog eyes you were giving their team captain. Great.
He threw a glance to Yamaguchi- his face was all screwed up, pissed off, too. They looked at each other with mutual, gloomy attitude.
Little did they understand that Daichi could've broken this up in a less civil way if he deemed them as any less credible in their actions.
It was their 'harmlessness' that kept them spared from a talking-to.
You were slower to understand that you were infatuated. As your long-time friends, they often read you quicker than you could understand your own emotions. It had been three minutes since the last time you blinked, and you didn't realize it, yet.
His stretches, and little tidbits of advice, rang familiar but more memorable than the second-year's recovery tips from the end of your practice.
"Thank you," You muttered, uncharacteristically quiet.
Tsukishima rolled his eyes so far back, so slow, that Daichi caught it.
"Of course! Happy to help."
You watched the incredible lines in his legs dance as he stood up and briefly wondered if he had ever suffered like this, before. Surely the answer was yes.
"Well-- It's great seeing you all take care of each other. Hang onto that!" Daichi kept one last, somewhat reminiscent, look on the three of you, and was on his way to the door.
"Oh-,"
You shivered, holding yourself as he turned around.
"Make sure to lock up when you're done!"
When he was gone, the door fully shut, you collapsed onto your back with a dreamy sigh. Yamaguchi was the first to stand up.
He was disappointed that you were so easy to impress, yes, but otherwise unfazed.
"You guys wanna go get something to eat?"
Tsukishima got to his feet, too, and had his bag slung at the ready-- usually not so food-motivated, but he was starving, at this point. The sun was low in the window. You nodded at the great idea.
Head still tilted to the closed door, you asked, "Does- uh, does he... have a girlfriend?"
Yamaguchi avoided your eyes, an easy task at his height, and took both of your hands to lift you to your feet. It was solely out of curiosity. He was so out of your league.
Tsukishima rattled off a blatant and well-done lie.
"Yeah. He's dating Michimiya- you didn't know that?"
It helped to cushion your feelings. You nodded, smiling at the way Yamaguchi kept you steady again with his hands in yours.
â â ď¸ đđđđđđđ đđđđđđđđ â Smut... yandere, cheating, incest. Idk what this Lannister bullshit is
⢠𩷠Suitors... - Gilbert, Chevalier.
He brushes back your beautiful dark locks, his fingers carefully running through your hair as he caresses your head and allows his hand to fall to the nape of your neck. The cold air freezes in your lungs as he gives your neck a light squeeze, his fingers applying the gentlest pressure to it as you lean forward to kiss him. Your hands roam his body, slowly heating him up even if you're grabbing and tugging off whatever clothing was left on him. You hurriedly stripped him before you gripped his back tightly, your fingernails digging into his skin and leaving red marks in their wake, to imprint in the soft flesh there as you claw him roughly.
He fucked himself into you, making you clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle your moan of his name. Some of the material on the desk below you falls to the floor, knocked down by your movements.
You hug him closer as you bury your face into his neck, inhaling his rich calming scent and trying to ground yourself as you hold him sweetly. His cock steadily dragged against your plush walls as he angled his hips to thrust deeper into you. ââYou love your big brother right? more than Chevalier.ââ He flashed you a smile as he panted, his hips hitting yours as he picked up the pace. Pounding even rougher into you and feeling your walls clench around him, your arousal seeped down between your legs while he rubbed your clit hurriedly so that you could both finish before somebody came into the room.
You heard a knight passing by the room you were in, his rough footsteps echoing loudly outside.
Gilbert didnât want to have to kill anybody in front of you. He wanted to save you from witnessing such an ugly sight... He tugged your eye patch off, revealing your beautiful shiny blue eye, and the jewel like blood-red one matching his very own...
"No one will ever love you like your brother does." He whispers before sealing your lips in a kiss.
"Now go. I'm sure your husband Chevalier is waiting for you."
He pulls you into his room, uncaring about his wife who sleeps in his bed peacefully. You stumble and hold yourself up on his desk, your palms pressing against the hard wood to prevent yourself from falling.
Chevalier comes behind you and mercilessly yanks your skirt up ââChevalier!!ââ You call out his name in protest, ââDonât you dare! Your wife is right there⌠what if she wakes up?!ââ You whispered whilst your brows furrowed in unease. You didnât want to get caught, and you didnât want to take a risk as big as this one...
A smirk makes its way onto his face as a simple ââDonât worryââ Leaves his lips before his mouth crashes against yours, and your lips move against one another. His tongue enters your mouth to ravish you while he tugs his glove off. He then pulls your underwear to the side and presses a finger into your wet entrance making you whimper quietly, and nervously glance back at his bed where his wife lies⌠still asleep. An odd thrill fills you as he kisses you again holds you gently in his embrace, making your heart melt.
He grabs you by your thighs and raises you over his desk, setting you atop the edge of it where he can take you easily.
While his fingers tease and prepare you, you bite your lip, trying to silence yourself in fear of making a single noise because youâre too afraid of his wife catching you like this. He chuckles at you, giving you his cocky smirk as he pushes his length into you all at once. You nearly scream at the sudden intrusion as he stretches you out so quickly, and he clamps his hand over your mouth. ââShh, you donât want to get caught, Do you?ââ He whispers teasingly, making you want to smack him for putting you into a position like this.
You nervously look back at his wife, and finally notice that she is in fact awfully pale⌠Even dead-looking⌠ââIs she okay?ââ You ask Chevalier in concern. He cups your cheek in his palm before answering, ââSheâs dead.ââ
Your blue eyes widen in shock at his words as he brushes your blonde hair backâŚ
Obsidian Retribution (IkePri Gilbert von Obsidian - NSFW)
Rated: NSFW/18+ đśď¸
Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian/Reader
Words: ~4k
Tags: developing/denial of feelings, church desecration/sex, vaginal fingering, minor violence, spoilers for Gilbertâs route (chapter 9), re-telling of canon events, angstÂ
Summary: What happens when you throw yourself into harmâs way in a bid to protect Gilbert at one of Clavisâ covert anti-monarchy meetings? Unconsciously stirring out the whetted fangs of the Conqueror Beast.Â
And you witness, once more, just how scathingly cruel his desire for monopoly over your body truly is.
A/N: Iâm currently in the midst of Gilbertâs route but heâs been such a flowing inspiration and need that I had to write this indulgent piece for him, for myself and the five other Gil fans out there who would cry with me LOL. Â
Characterization might not be accurate to end route Gil, as Iâm at the beginning of his route still, so this is written with my understanding of an early Gilbert. ILOVETHISMANSOMUCH.Â
The lethal sweep of the blade engulfs your vision entirely, the nobleâs hand poised right above his shoulder â a strike you know you cannot avoid. Your life, as if you view it through the distant barrier of a panorama, right before itâs extinguished. Â
The sole knowledge that you do not regret your actions one bit, your one solace, eyes drifting shut, that one moment of death stretching slow and long. Â
A glacial whisper, of knelling death curls into your ears, âI do not recall allowing you permission to die by anotherâs hand,â His only pre-emptive warning, just before Gilbert grips a harsh hand about your neck and hurls you backwardsâÂ
âBelle!â Into Lukeâs body as he catches you against himself right before you careen straight into the ground.Â
A whimpered groan breaks into the air right after; your whirling head, catching its bearings just enough to catch sight of Gilbert standing above the writhing figure of your would-be assailant, bunched at the ground. The sharp end of the perpetratorâs blade â now within Gilbertâs hand â he brings up in a vicious arc, surely in murderous intent.Â
âPrince Gilbert, donât!â Your voice breaks in terror into the air, before the knife is able to find home within its pitiful target. Â
His hand, fortunately, halts just before it slits through the nobleâs carotid, the latter long having fainted in mind-numbing fear, unable to bear the single-focused brutality of the conqueror beast. Â
Gilbert raises his face as if operated via a puppeteer's strings, cut before it could fulfil its performance. Garnet gaze, sweeping slow, before it finds its next victim, within you. Your breath frosts within your lungs, incapable of function, the vicious weight of his terrifying visage subjecting you to his splintering displeasure, despite the cruel smile that remains even now, firm in place. âWhat is it, little rabbit? Are you begging me to kill you instead?â Â
âPrince Gilbert!â You hear Luke entreat, as if from afar. Â
A volatile shiver cascades down your spine at the look heâs giving you, thinly veiled revulsion and rage within that sole scarlet eye. Â
Gilbert takes a step toward you; your breaths coming in short, staccato bursts and yet youâre unable to turn away from the hungering violence within that gaze. Scurrying thoughts unable to comprehend why exactly he seemed so incensed at you. Â
âCome now, out with it. I know you wish to say something to me.â Gilbert offers you an encouraging smile, even as the murderous intent radiating from him with each step he takes forward, threatens to smother you entirely. Â
You know what he wishes to hear in that moment, of no mind to hear your own thoughts on the matter. An apology, for your actions, reckless, they may have been, but you do not hold an ounce of regret for trying to protect the man that continues to disconcert your heart; sink his dark trellises deeper into your soul.Â
âPrince Gilbert, Iââ Â
The stifling pressure in the room, cut through only upon Clavisâ interruption, just as he steps into the room to offer a jaunty congratulations to Gilbert for providing an entertaining show. Â
The weight of his gaze flees entirely from you, your body â you did not realize youâd held steadfast by sheer force of will â collapses back against Lukeâs comforting presence, just as he hauls you up and into his arms, to carry you back.Â
âArenât you a lucky one?â Gilbertâs cheery voice drifts, discomfiting against your retreating back.Â
âPrince GilbââÂ
 âTake care you donât let me catch sight of you again, or I might just kill you.â Your heart thrums in confounding pain at his words, the clear line he carves in between the two of you in that moment. Â
Your mouth unable to form sufficient words to try and catch his attention just as Gilbert turns away from you entirely, the soft flitter of his cape as he does, the last sight you capture of him, as Luke carries you away from the scene.Â
Â
The longcase clock at the end of hallway has long struck midnight. You continue to pace, restless, about the corridor. Eyes cemented upon the window, affording you a clear view of the castle gates as you stake your agitated wait for Gilbertâs return. Â
Luke and you had returned a few hours back, to the castle in a private carriage. Youâd run into Rio as soon as youâd alighted, almost immediately after, being carted in between the two men as theyâd fussed you straight into the infirmary. The good part of the hour after, spent in making sure you were truly unhurt save for the minor scrap at your arms. Â
It was only multiple reassurances later and holding Rio back from charging deep into the night after Gilbert, did you escape from the fretful affections of your friends and out, to await Gilbertâs return. Â
His expression returns to your mindâs eye in vivid detail; the way that cold, scarlet gaze had zoned in on you, the shuttered intensity of violent rage underneath. It was as if youâd been looking upon a stranger. Â
Now that youâd had a few quiet moments to compose yourself away from the fright of your earlier situation, bone-deep remorse was beginning to settle within, at having displeased Gilbert the way you did. A forced companionship he may have forged in between you two, but the startling glimpses of his kindness that lurked beneath the serrated edge of his cool blades, had your heart shred asunder between fear, rationale and genuine care. You couldnât deny it, not after tonight. You had, perhaps, grown to care for Prince Gilbert, far more than was ever appropriate.Â
The soft whinnying of horses disturbing the quiet of the night outside drags you out of your reverie just in time to catch sight of Gilbertâs figure descending the carriage. Â
You begin your rush towards the main entrance, but instead of making his way into the castle, Gilbertâs steps veered off towards a path leading to what seemed to be, the back of the castle. Â
You fly down the winding staircase and into the foyer, heart battering against your chest. Pulling open the great doors to the entrance before you dart after his retreating figure that is a mere speck in the distance, now. Â
You do not want to lose sight of him. You must see Gilbert tonight and make him listen to what you have to say. Despite your fears, you do not wish to abandon Gilbert with the notion that you did not care. Even beneath the carving of a beast, he was just a human too. A man whoâd come so close to bordering a rapidly diminishing line in between friend and foe. Â
Up ahead, Gilbert ducks past belting cobblestone, headed in the direction of what seems to be the structure of an old church. You frown, thoughts wrought with questions you know youâd get no easy answers for. Â
The tapering sweep of his cape disappears just past the great, carved wooden doors of the church, and you too follow, on tentative, urgent steps, slipping through the entrance and into the church. Â
It sits empty, save for the dark figure of the man standing motionless, close to the pulpit. Â
âI didnât think you were foolish enough to come chasing after me even after I warned you not to.â Gilbertâs voice drifts eerie in its calm, down the long hallway, even as you trudge closer on careful steps. âTell me, is it that pure kindness of yours which feels for every living being, or an empty head that has dragged you this far into the beastâs den?â Â
Gilbertâs words are scathing, deliberately cruel, meant to burn. You have not heard him utilize that tone of voice with you in so long.Â
âWell then,â he prods; voice, sweet poison. âAre you going to answer me or shall I make you answer me?âÂ
You drift further into the church on uneasy steps, the great doors behind sway shut behind you in a creak of finality, as if knelling of an ill-fated decision. Against all wise sense, however â your heart insists you do â you tread towards the man who stands waiting, at the end of the long, carpeted hallway.
A poised form; his head at an easy cant, a crinkled garnet eye fixated upon your foolish movements â you do not miss the incessant, muted tap of gloved digits across the flared bulb of his cane, an uncharacteristic agitation to his visage, youâre not used to witnessing on Gilbert. He stands, all obsidian, against the backdrop of watered twilight that filters in shafts past great, ornate windows on either sides of the quiet hallway â as though he is a devil awaiting the willing scurry of a sacrifice right into its willing maw. Â
You grit your teeth against the frightening intimidation heâs settled deep into your bones, a festering cloak heâs had thrown over in between you, warning you to stop prying deeper into his affairs. âI want to speak to you, Prince Gilbert.â Â
âOh? What if I do not wish to listen, little rabbit?â Â
âThen, I insist you hear me out.â The cutting streak of his blade is so swift, you only but feel the soft stir of your hair about your face before your breath frosts within your windpipe at the deadly edge of the sword he holds against the careful swallow of your throat. Â
âYou really do wish to die by my hand tonight. What an utterly insipid way to cut my fun short, Belle.âÂ
You force yourself to hold your ground, even as the first tremors of fear crumple across your limbs. âI donât want you to kill me.â Compelling courage to rise in the face of his raw vitriolic anger, you wish to parse the reason for his distress. âI only want to know why you are so angry with me.â Â
A serrated smile tugs across his mouth. âDo you ask because you really do not know?âÂ
âI donât. And I donât think I did anything to warrant your unjust ire either.âÂ
âUnjust...â he murmurs. âYou wouldâve realized it if you took but a single moment to think.âÂ
Your mind takes his words and works about them in a million different ways. âI realize my actions were reckless...âÂ
âThat is a good start.â the sardonic amusement of his voice does not reach his eyes. Â
âBut I do not regret my actions, Prince Gilbert. I...â you swallow around words that are sudden lead within your throat. âI do not think I could bear to see you get hurt.â Â
The admission uttered on soft, firm words; stews dense within the space in between you both. Gilbert's lone scarlet gaze, watches you, motionless as the terse silence stretches taut into several excruciating moments. Â
Before he gathers his blade back into its secreted scabbard once more, beneath the cloak at his waist â your breath escaping you on a rush of relieved air, you did not even know how tensed youâd held your body, until its released from the grip of Gilbertâs dread, with the withdrawal of his blade. The Obsidianite prince turns on his heel, the flourish of his great, dark cape behind, as he moves to seat himself in the first pew. He does not look back at you as he instructs, âCome.â Â
And you follow, without a word of complaint uttered; know that you tread in dangerous waters. A single, wrong move, and youâd miss your window of opportunity with Gilbert entirely. His emotions would be shuttered off to you, once and for all, were you to lose your nerve now and flee from him. Despite how part of your heart still tremored within his presence, how you still couldnât help doubt each single edge of his kindness so deeply steeped within his malice; hope still sprouted within you regardless. Willing to gamble upon the Gilbert you often times caught glimpse of; one whoâs consideration did not come attached with its poisonous strings. Â
You shift on anxious steps once youâre in front of him, Gilbertâs gaze, mildly muted of its ire when he fixes it upon you. âYour impulsive actions couldâve cost you dearly tonight.â He begins. Â
âImpulsive, yes... but even if I had stopped to think, Prince Gilbert, I couldnâtââÂ
âYou couldnât afford to see me hurt, yes, I heard that silly part the first time you spoke it, little rabbit.â he reiterates. Â
You clam up on yourself.Â
âYou couldâve died. Did you stop to think how much the mere thought of your demise irked me?â He angles the head of his cane, to tap against your hip, gesturing you closer. Â
And just as you steal close within armâs length, Gilbertâs gloved digits are curving about your arm in a vice, hauling you down to topple onto his lap. His murmurâs a warm caress against the shell of your ear. âI wouldâve hated it if youâd died.â Â
Your mind careens into a rash halt of all thoughts, blanking entirely at the quiet certitude of those words.Â
â...What?â Â
âFoolish, isnât it?â His smile is wide, undisturbed across his face. Just as transient as the surface of a pond, subject to be disturbed by the slightest of ripples. âEven when I despise you so, Belle, I cannot let you go.âÂ
âPrince Gilbert...âÂ
Your mind cannot parse the meaning of his words. If this were earlier on in your relationship, youâd have understood him to mean he did not wish for his prey to be âimpairedâ by another. Gilbert had told you so, on several occasions and in no less than explicit terms. Â
However, now as you look upon Gilbert; emotions naked, unlike youâve ever seen before. Jagged enough they could cut you through if you dared try wade in deeper. Into the insinuation barely concealed behind that sole garnet gaze. Â
The arch of his cane steers a slow caress over the shirt at your chest, before it dents into a stop right above your heart. Gilbert presses in, insisting the polished head against the give of your left breast â your heart seeming to catch at the hook of it with how it seizes at the motion. âThis right here couldâve stopped,â he mulls, almost clinically. The insouciant inflection of his voice disarming at the last careful barriers and inhibitions, thrown up in protection of your heart. âI am human too, you know, mere flesh and bone. I cannot be there to protect you each time that heart of yours decides it wishes to do good to all, regardless of their status as man or beast.â Â
âPrince Gilââ Your voice fractures into a pained gasp, just as he seizes the fingers you reach out for him, sinking a sharp bite around a vulnerable digit. You clench back further signs of weakness with the slow, aching sweep of his tongue against your captured fingers; the teeth that worry at tender skin, pinching another warning at your approach. And reach out, again, with your other palm. Succeeding in curving your fingers about his cool cheek in a tentative touch up the line of it. Thumbing gentle right beneath the cusp of a surprised gaze, singular scarlet disarmed by the tender action. Before it crinkles in mild resignation, half rebuke, âYou truly are a fool.â Â
Gilbert tucks his face against your cradling palm, further allowing you slack, to temper at the beast that has â for the moment â lowered its great head to you. That is all the victory you need from him at the moment, for him to pay heed to you for the words you wish to communicate. âIâm sorry.â Â
The apology rings piercing in the quiet space, Gilbertâs gaze unrelenting in the long stretch of time that seems to trudge slow in between you both, the longer he lets those two words stew. Â
Pink tongue darting out a nervous path to slick moisture at long dry lips, âIâm sorry for not thinking my actions through and for not treasuring myself more in the moment. I realize that upset you greatly and I apologize for that, Prince Gilbert.â Â
He remains silent throughout your confession uttered, red gaze, and a gloved hand, tracing a deliberate path across your chest, right above your heart. You know he can feel the moment it thrums faster, beneath his welcome touch â why, why do you not hate Gilbert touching you? â gliding its exploration across the space. âWill you promise not to do what you have today, again?â Â
The thought of uttering a cosy lie, flitters through your mind for a split moment of relapsed judgement. Before fizzling in on itself; you know well how Gilbert despises untruths spoken, no matter how small. Would know, were you to try offer false placations. And so, you opt for the bitter truth â one you too, realize with a jolt of realization, âI... cannot promise you that.â Â
His eye rolls up to meet yours, the sharp edge to it, you swallow against, as if he has a phantom blade pressed to your throat once more. âFor as much as I deeply regret the trouble Iâve caused you, I know Iâd hate it even more were something to happen to you.âÂ
âThose are dangerous fantasies to harbour for a prince of your enemy nation.â A muted smile graces his features; a dark gloved thumb he brings to trace at your lower lip, delicately disengaging it from the worrying bite of your teeth. As if he, too, hadnât confessed so, in less clearer words, not too long before. A dangerous game you two play; you donât wish to disentangle the throttling wad of your emotions tonight. Â
âWell, thatâs too bad then, I guess, because those are my true feelings, Prince Gilbert.â You stare back, resolute. Â
His smile quivers in mild amusement. âI know.â Â
âAnd Iâm willing to do anything to show my sincerity, if it gets you to accept my heartfelt apology.âÂ
That garnet gaze shutters, taking on a hard edge at your words; the burbling shadows of darkness that catch just beneath that smiling veneer before it vanishes entirely. âYouâre playing a treacherous game here, little rabbit, one that will unfortunately end in futility, no matter how hard you try.â His smile grows wider, until youâre seeing the flash of teeth in it. âNothing you do or say can ever change the positions you and I stand in. So, tell me once more.â A firm arm curls about your waist, heaving you flush against the cold, clothed expanse of Gilbertâs chest, a stifled gasp leaving you at the motion. âYouâre not silly enough to not understand the true implications of your offer, are you?â Â
Your next breath quivers out of you. â...I am not.â Your fingers snag awkwardly at the regal collar of his mantle, sinking into the soft fur lining the edges. âI wholeheartedly wish to make amends.â And you pitch your head forwards, the tentative kiss you touch against Gilbertâs cold lips has you shuddering in his embrace. âI canât promise you what you want but I can convey my honest remorââ Â
His hand slinks into the catch of your hair, hauling you back towards him in a kiss of cool desire, mouth moving against yours in a manner, it leaves you flushed and breathless by the time Gilbert parts from you on a wet, sultry sound. A hand he cups about your jaw, thumb denting at your chin in measured strokes. You tip your mouth, catching the edge of his glove in between your teeth to tug, slow. Deliberate. Curving your hands about his, in aid, before you wrest the glove off his hand entirely. Moving to discard it behind, at your feet. Â
Gilbertâs bared hand moves to curve about the flare of your hip; a patient squeeze he applies to the flesh beneath. His other hand he extends in silent instruction for you to de-glove before you comply without question. You tremble above him in need, his simmering gaze more than making up for the cold you feel permeating through the thin cloth of your dress. âGo on,â he encourages. âYouâre going to work for it, arenât you?â Â
Your breath heaves with the slow rise of your chest, hand stealing past the stiff collar of his cape to settle your fingers at the side of his neck, tracing hesitant pads down the line of it. âYouâre so cold.â Â
His lashes sweep shut over his eye at your touch, canting his head further into the warmth of your palm; a figure he paints so lovely, you know this empyrean visage is what youâd always envisioned within your mindâs eye when you used to read about kings and princes within your happy fairytales, long before in a time that seems so far into the past now. âYou should warm me, then. Show me youâre capable of it.âÂ
Sinking a vexed bite into your lip â adamant on proving yourself right â you hoist your knee awkwardly onto the narrow seat. Gilbertâs hands immediately flit to curve their supports against your behind and lift, just as your other knee too, settles by his thigh, effectively straddling him. Your breaths stopper momentarily within your throat with the expectant lift of his gaze, palms squeezing softly against your pliant flesh. Your hands fly towards the flow of your dress before you slip the material up against your thighs, deliberately exposing your bare skin to his gaze. Â
Gilbert's eye flashes; molten steel bleeding into the gaze, before one of his hands steal past the edge of your still rising dress and in between your legs to glance a searing touch in between your drenched folds, right above your underwear. You gasp at the euphoric sensation, hips lurching against his hand on instinct, trying to capture it deeper into you. Â
He indulges you â perhaps he feels particularly merciful in that one moment of whimsy â the pad of his forefinger re-tracing its path in between your folds. Before his thumb tucks aside the edge of your underwear, to slide index and middle in a slow, torturous path across the bare flesh from hood to base. Teasing the cool tips of them just into your entrance. Your body flares in mortified need to feel your wetness gush onto his fingers at that mere testing touch. Â
His eye rolls up to meet yours, the smile that lingers at his lips, immensely pleased. âYouâre very warm here.â Propelling his fingers, slow, up into your clenching walls. âItâs almost as if youâre running a fever, little rabbit.â You moan against him, with each deliberate thrust, the pads of his digits finding your weakest spot frighteningly quick, to scrape repetitive, at the soft flesh. âDo you think Iâd be just as hot were I to settle deep into your place here?â Â
Your hips judder against his fingers at those words, grazing the heel of his palm against the neglected bead at your apex, sending fire soaring through your body at that split moment of contact. Your soft, soughing sound of need breaks into the air, body gyrating down against that searing point of contact, in rhythm with the leisured thrust of his fingers into your spasming walls. Â
Before Gilbert, cruelly, siphons the heat from you entirely at the cusp of release, fingers pried out of you to drift up against his mouth. He sweeps his tongue against his drenched digits, copious arousal dripping past his wrist to soak into the pristine cloth at his thigh. âSweet thing,â he hums, just as you flush further underneath his piercing touch. Â
And before you can manoeuvre your weak limbs for much else â mind so hazed in its lust addled state, youâre not sure whatâs happening â Gilbertâs free hand is stealing about the curve of your spine. Pressing you down against the firm, hard strength of exposed flesh; the smooth head of him bumping about your nub to have you keening into the touch. Spine arching the rest of the way forwards without the coaxing of his hand, so he slips just past your entrance; fingers spasming into his shoulders at the stretch. You rock against that pleasurable almost burn for several, excruciating moments, in and out â surface thrusts â head falling back against your shoulders. Â
Gilbert throws his hand about your body, fingers splaying just beneath the wings of your shoulder-blades, hauling your coasting body to hold firm, against his. âDonât lose yourself now, little rabbit. You have yet to satisfactorily apologize.â Tempting your body down into his lap until heâs propelled, at last, into your drenched walls, a rapid sigh issued from Gilbertâs lips at the sensation. Â
Your body quickly warming his into yours â the shape and stretch of him has you nearly faint with desire. âIâm sorry,â you croon on your first roll upon him. âI-Iâm so sorry.â Grinding him up into your walls as deeply as you are able, the unyielding strength of him so numbing within your body. Even inside you, connected this intimately, Gilbert von Obsidian must have his own way with you. Â
And youâve let him do so, for so long; at his beck and call, thrown to his tender mercies. And yet, your mind had gone and coddled unfathomable emotions for him within its bosom. He'd gotten past your defences, just as heâd promised; crawling tendrils underneath your skin, into your frenzied beating heart, deep into your mind, until he occupied every thought along with each waking breath of yours. And your tiny victory lay in the knowledge that perhaps, you too had chipped a small chunk past that obsidian armour and carved a shallow wound at his skin, of your name. Â
âIâm sorry for angering you, Gilbert.â You weep upon his length, hips driving fast towards a swift approaching release.Â
âYou are, arenât you?â He breathes, hands catching at your waist to aid your movements upon him. âIâll forgive you. And Iâll forgive you for neglecting to speak my proper title too, Belle, since Iâm the one who has ruined you.â His smile is almost sweet, pleasant upon his face as he looks up at you â you drink that saccharine poison down almost fervidly. âYouâre allowed to be remiss this once, because we are friends.â Â
Heâs driving, hard, into you â powerful enough the pew beneath you creaks with the propulsions â at an angle that has him brushing hot against your swollen nub in blinding strokes, just at the cusp of release, threatening to overflow. âSo, call me Gil instead, when we are alone. I shall permit it, for you. Say it now.âÂ
Your body breaks, spasming into a release so violent, your entire body shudders above him. âGil.â You sob out loud, your arms he coaxes about the strength of his shoulders. Fingers you sink into the soft fur of his mantle to ground yourself, just as Gilbertâs warmth follows soon after into your quivering walls. âI-Iâm sorry, Gil.âÂ
A breathless, flushed grin, Gilbert von Obsidian buries against your mouth before he speaks. âApology accepted, little rabbit.âÂ
End Notes: Thank you for reading!
If youâd like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here.
Messmer, who finds your attempts to rebel and escape endearing.
Dearest mongrel, dearest consort, why can't you understand that wherever you go, he will find you? He has eyes and ears everywhere in this forsaken land. No matter how far you travel, he will find you. He will find you, and you will fall back into his embrace.
Messmer, who makes it a game of cat-and-mouse and feigns ignorance as you plot your latest escape attempt. It costs him nothing to do so, as these lands, bereft of light, provide him with more than enough to occupy his time and thoughts... when they aren't on you, of course.
Messmer, who watches you when you aren't aware, who notices the way your eyes glaze over in thought, who notices the way you take in your surroundings as if you're analyzing the quickest escape route. As if you hadn't tried that path before, as if he didn't personally go to capture you himself. And he smiles at you, so serenely. Oh, dearest one, when you learn?
Messmer, who doesn't think to punish your insolence, who finds beauty in your defiance, whose heart beats ever so strongly whenever you glare at him. And still he smiles, so serenely, as one large, bony hand cups your cheek, as clawed nails trail slowly, reverently down your skin, as he commits the slight indentations, the softness beneath his fingertips to memory, as your eyes speak frenzied death and damnation upon his soul.
Messmer, who bides his time when your plan is put into action. He feigns ignorance still, sits upon his throne, bides his time with serpentine tenacity, and aims to strike at the opportune moment.
And strike he does. Messmer figures it's been some days since you departed, and slowly, purposefully, he arises from the comfort of his stronghold, blade in hand, ready to reclaim his lost love, ready to defy his mother once again...
Dearest mongrel, dearest consort, why do you fight him still? Messmer prowls blood-soaked, ashen lands, heart beating with anticipation and want, searching, searchingâoh, how he yearns to feel the heat of your defiance under him againâfor that which makes him alive once more.
Messmer, who searches endlessly, who traverses the very edge of darkness to find you. And find you he does, right where he expected you to be, right where you could go no further. And he smiles at you.
Messmer, who drags you back in his serpentine grasp, strong and dreadful and dark, back to the comfort of his stronghold wreathed in fading light.
Messmer, who holds you in his embrace before the statue of his mother, his mother who bears witness to the slow death of her futile plans, who watches as her savior falls in the embrace of Messmer's flame.
Messmer, who kisses you once more, who tastes your defiance on rigid lips, whose hold whispers dark promises, whose smile makes your blood run cold and your body go limp.
And now, dearest mongrel, dearest consort, now do you truly understand the power of Messmer's embrace...
đŹđđđđđ: I wanted to do something with just the Tarnished. Would this be considered Teratophilia? They are not entirely human, are they?
đŹđđđđđđđđđ đšđđđđ: The Tarnished is a completely imaginable character. You create the Tarnished yourself. This can be considered true or not. âThey/Them/Theirâ will be used to describe a singular Tarnished.
đžđđđđđđ: Smut & Normal headcanons for the Tarnished.
"An unbearable fate for those who are a Tarnished. Their golden hue of their eyes leaving them. Their souls unable to rest, have lost the grace of the Erdtree, banished and are... maidenless."
Stright up, and of course, they do not speak. Actions tell more words type of Tarnished. They will speak to you with their body language, or maybe with a stick drawing into the ground. It's a bit confusing at first. It just seemed like squiggles to you until you realized 1: they might have lost some brain cells each time they die or 2: they could be so old they are writing ancient tongue, but you get a hang of it after (quite) a while. Their ability to just spawn back from the dead becoming really handy for their dedication to 'talk' to you.
On the subject of their dedication. These Tarnished are the most determined in the The Lands Between and out, considering their life is just full of rebirth; trial and error: over and over and over and over again. You have to honestly question their dedication when you keep seeing them after their death so many times. The first time they had died and reappeared actually scared you, but you suppose it was alright considering they have given you a gift when they did...
Gifting, it's one of their strong suits... in a way. Their gifts could range from: Stormhawk Feather's, Erdleaf Flower, Bloodrose, all the way to Sliver of meat and Crab eggs. It's not the best for the last two, but hey. If you have a cookbook for them, and you're hungry, maybe it's actually a great gift? Plus, you can feed them as repayment. However, if they are really dedicated and you return such an interest to them. They gift you a Rune, more or so a Rune Arc, but who knows if you're lucky enough for them to show their... true devotion to you with a Great Rune. They do not give those up easily; if not ever.
With gifting Sliver of meat and crab eggs. You might find more than you bargained for if you accept those foods. They can be like a cat bring back its kill to show you how well they did. Plopping a Eagel, Ram, or a damn Giant Land Octopus down at your feet: ripping a part off of them and offering it to you. You reject? Sad liâ knight, they will not gift you another body for a while. You accept? Theyâll go hunt some more things for you, no matter how hard it is. For you to use as trophies, as evidence of their hard, devoted work.
Oh, they love your approval. From being banished and loosing everything they had⌠Itâs reasonable they want your approval, attention and may have developed abandonment issues. They want nothing more to stay close to you, but at the same time. Their goal of having to become an Elden Lord and wanting to be near you; wanting your approval. It messes them up a bit. With the abandonment part? They wonât âsayâ anything about it, but you can tell they have it by how dedicated they stand by you. Having their full faith in you to not betray them; banish them like they have been before.
They would fight, defend or even act upon vengeance for you. Those lesser knights annoying you? Trying to beckon you closer? You donât have to say nothing and they are killing them off, whether if itâs in front of you or not. Arrow incoming? They pull you in a roll with them or block it with their shield, their body covering yours. If they found out you have been forced to rest 6 feet under soil of the so called gods? Itâs safe to consider them enraged and will go on a spree. How dare they take the only thing that was kind to them?
Despite the more dark end. They like following you around like a lost puppy of a Monstrous Dog. Fully capable of killing, but really until they or you are provoked. They may have lost their grace, their guide and maiden, but they believe you can replace that. That you can become a grace to them. A guide and perhaps⌠even their maiden. A real, true maiden to them. If you know what I mean.
Can be really possessive. They are not willing to share, nor are they willing to let you go. They have found their grace, their guide, their maiden. You think they are going to let that go so easily? They have been banished, and you are the only one that has blessed them of what should not be. You may not be powerful as themselves, but they can always provide, itâs what they are supposed to do, no? What do you mean no? Have the creatures of The Lands Between lost their senses? Did they gift you something that unknowingly makes you delusional? They will however, give you independency if thatâs what you want; expect them to teach you too. They have be alone beforeâŚ
They do have a bit chivalry blood in them, but it doesnât mean they will use it for occasions. The enemies they face? Consider it a war crime with how vivid their actions can be when taking down an enemy, especially in front of you if they are trying to impress you. Honestly, the only times you seem them without blood staining their stolen armor is when they are next to you, wanting a good image and reputation with you in order to dazzle you. Regardless of what the rumors spread and what you have seen with your own eyes. They donât care for what they have done. The gods abandoned them. Now? They will abandon them. A taste of their own medicine.
Iâd like to say they have been trying to court you, in a way, since they have seen you and offered you their gifts. You wouldnât know it at the beginning, but as time goes past and you learn about their social cues of growls, huffs grunts, and body cues? It becomes more apparent they are trying to court you, ever slowly too. Youâre not sure if you should be smitten with it or not⌠One hand they are really dedicated on being by your side, but on the other hand? The drive to become Elden Lord can be a bit more powerfulâŚ
đđđąđŽđđĽ/đđŚđŽđ:
They definitely have a praise kink, and combine that with your voice too? Consider them nearly at your mercy. Nearly, because they like to be alert when having heated times with you. That said, they are more of the dominant type, but to have you saying praises in their ear, whispering it? Perhaps they can be swayed of being a bottom. Just keep those praises up while your tone is gentle; cooing and theyâll be a puddle in no time, and ready to take you.
I believe they will get excited about what you wear. Whether it would be dress, a maids outfit or even a set of armor yourself. They definitely get excited when they see you with clothing, or no clothing. Surprised them at first when they saw you without clothing, but they are not complaining. To see your skin is like another blessing that has been bestowed upon them as you are allowing them to see you at your most vulnerable.
Will take you anywhere, doesnât matter where it is. They will take you anywhere they please. Itâs could be in front of a shrine, a church and possibly in front of an enemy if they magically didnât kill them all off. One of the locations was on a sacrificial stone top, and by god did they made sure to make you feel like a pleasured sacrifice to them.
Blood Play. They definitely have to have a kink for blood. Not one of hurting you, but just smearing it over your skin. They would simply return back from battle: drenched in their enemies blood and just- swipe the blood spattered on their armor and put it on you as if they shared the battle with you too. (Or just to annoy you as they like your attention.) Though, this can come in as a way of marking. If they are the one injured, and youâre patching them up? Except to be smashed up against them with their hands to be a bit⌠wandering.
Sit on their face. Thatâs a death they are so willing to take from you. Itâs a battle they want to conquer, and they do it excellently too. Their tongue either short or long. Lapping, twisting and sucking on you, very explorative. Let them be embraced with the grace of your juices. Let only you to conquer them in such a filthy way. Itâs a loss they would be proud of.
Surprisingly vanilla, likes to lay you down in the safety of your quarters. Watching as the sheets/comforter waves a little bit when they place you down. Their hands wandering over your body: from the sides of your body all the way up and down from your thighs and collarbone. Taking it slow as they prepare you, massaging you before taking you like you should be taken. Taking you as their spouse, their counter part, as their maiden.
Loves to make you weak. Loves to raw you until you canât walk the next week without them. Loves to see your blissed face as they would overstimulate you. To see drool lob off your tongue. They are filthy, and continue to be when they are taking you when they please. Their hands keeping you in place by your hips. They like to see how well they are treating their cute, handsome maiden.
Would breed you like no tomorrow, and that is âŚfalse for them. They can breed you everyday. They are reborn and ready to come back to you to show you just how much they can provide. Ready to pin your knees to your shoulder and absolutely take you over and over. They certainly got the infinite time to try and produce their heirâs with you.
Oh, I would be careful however. Whenever they are reborn as their frustration can become⌠hate sex. There was plenty of times where they have been reborn and have ripped you of your clothing to relieve their frustrations. You can try and hide, but with them having⌠dead, aged experience. It a bit hard to do so. They do like the chase and challenge you give them though. A bit silly you are, hiding from them.
Thereâs gotta be a thing in The Lands Between with something similar to sex pollen. You canât tell me there isnât in there, and the Tanrnished to be affected by it? It could last long. They would try and play it off at first, but as it gets more obvious itâs affecting them greatly⌠They canât resist the sudden pull to you. The sudden call to claim and take you again and again until all is satisfied. It definitely makes you numb for at least a couple+ weeks, and thatâs okay because you are lovingly pleasured, claimed by your lover and get great aftercare afterwards for their rather⌠rabid behavior.
SUMMARY: Maybe you were going crazy, but for a reason, you couldnât get Sebastian out of your mind.
GENRE: Smut
WARNINGS: Legilimency.
WORD COUNT: 3.2k words
A/N: Not proofread yet
You were hating yourself. You couldnât believe your mind was playing tricks on you. See, after everything that happened in the 5th year, you and Sebastian went your separate ways, if you can even call it that. It was bound to happen.
The two of you were too reckless, too immature to know what to do, what could happen, or what the consequences of your actions would be. And in the end, it was for the best. You two acted as if the other one didnât exist.
Which would be really easy if it werenât for the fact that you and Ominis became basically best friends after your first year at Hogwarts. And by the looks of it, maybe even more. But if someone asked you or Ominis if you were something more than just friends, the two of you would quickly deny any type of implication and move on with your day.
With this in mind, sometimes the tension was unbearable, at least for Ominis, and sometimes for Poppy, since she was your best friend, and Sebastianâs too.
But when something has been going on for too long, one could get used to it.
And in your 7th year, it seemed everyone could live with whatever situation you and Sebastian were in. And for the first months of the new school year, everything was fine. Until one night you woke up all shaken up. Your dream was too real to be only a dream.
You could still see his face perfectly. The way his brown eyes were looking at you with desire and desperation. The way his touch felt against your skin. Leaving a burning sensation that you could still feel even now that you were wide awake. The way your body felt when he whispered your name made your whole body weak. For the first time in your life, you were shaking.
One could think that after everything youâve gone through, at least once, you wouldâve felt the fear you are feeling right now. Because you never thought you were ever going to see Sebastian in another light, more than a past friend. And now, your mind was starting to want him, your body too.
You couldnât sleep after that. And thank Merlin Ominis couldnât see your face, because he would have been able to tell that you could barely sleep. However, he could hear really, really, well. And he could tell your heartbeat was about to explode out of your chest.
âEverythingâs alright?â Your heart melted at his concern. You only hummed and tried your best to calm down. After all, it was the first class of the day, so in order to survive on one and a half hours of sleep, you needed to distract yourself and forget the fact that you had one of the hottest dreams with whom you swore to hate and ignore for the rest of your life.
But it wasnât going to be that easy. Because every time you dared to close your eyes, a new image of Sebastian was playing in your head. Some of them were the most domestic, sweet situations you have imagined yourself with Ominis, others were the most depraved and obscene things you didnât even dare to imagine with anyone.
You were thankful you didnât have to see Poppy until the next day, because she wouldâve been able to tell something was terribly wrong with you.
You found a way to leave Ominiâs side for a moment and rushed your way to the Requirment Room, to see if you could distract yourself, or to see if there was a way to stop these new âmemoriesâ from popping up in your mind, or to find a way to stop this madness that was starting to consume you. But that was such a terrible idea.
The moment you entered the main area of the room, your whole body collapsed to the floor, and a wave of the same images youâve been seeing during the day repeated over and over again. You felt your body would break down at any moment. You hated to admit it, but you needed some kind of relief.
You were thankful Deek was right now with Professor Weasley. You quickly removed your skirt and undergarments, realising you didnât even remember where you left your cape and sweater, but you couldnât really care less. Sebastian was consuming every fraction of your mind right now. You closed your eyes, and there he was again, now squatting right next to your left, with that smirk that made you want to punch him in the face, but now it made you all worked up and breathless.
âLook what we have here. Couldnât survive one day like this? I thought you were stronger.â You growled, but it came out more like a moan, a moan that youâve been retaining since midnight.
âWhat the hell are you doing here, Sallow? How do you even know this place?â You didnât even realise when you started to touch yourself, playing with your clit. You could feel the wetness starting to fall down to the floor, but a little mess couldnât hurt anyone right now. You had other things to worry about, like Sebastian looking at you in such a state.
Having him this close to you was intoxicating. His right hand slowly made its way to your core, making you shiver. Now his hand was hovering over your hand that was flicking your clit, trying to bring you to an orgasm.
âMy lord, you are dripping.â He said more to himself, mesmerized by the view. âDidnât think you would end up like this⌠If I had known, I wouldâve done this sooner.â He whispered and licked his lips. Your mind was clouded enough that you didnât care one bit what he was talking about.
âPlease.â You felt a moment of confusion, not really sure why you were begging him.
âAw. Does my girl want something from me?â He taunted you. And finally, a sense of pride bubbled inside you.
âFuck you, Sallow.â You moved your head to the opposite side of where he was, to stop looking at him, still trying so hard to cum, with no avail.
He started to shake his head and tsk at the action. So stubborn even now.
âFine then, sweetheart. Struggle.â He was starting to get up when he felt your hand, the same hand that was on your pussy a few moments ago, grab him by the wrist.
âWait.â Your whole body reacted even before you could register your actions. Your hand burned at the touch. âDonât leave, please.â You couldnât believe yourself. What was happening to you? He smiled.Â
âSince you ask so nicelyâŚâ He moved his boy so he could kneel closer to the lower part of your body. For the first time, he could feel his mouth dry. Seeing you like this was something he never thought he would experience, and somehow you knew it. âWhat do you want me to do, mhm?â
âTouch me, help me. I donât know, Sallow, just do something.â He started to collect your juices with his middle finger and groaned. God, you were so wet, he was wondering how you would coat his cock, and felt he was getting harder, if that was even possible. Maybe another time.
Before helping you get some relief, he took his middle finger to his lips and licked it. You moaned at the sight. Without any warning, he finally started to flickyour bundle of nerves, and you sighed. You were finally getting the relief youâve been needing ever since you had that dream.
âLook at me. I want you to remember whoâs the one giving you the pleasure youâve been craving.â You looked into his eyes and tried your best not to close them. This was too much. His middle fingers kept rubbing your clit at a steady pace, slowly building your orgasm.
âSebâŚâ You moaned his name, and his heart jumped. You finally said his name after 2 years. and god, he was going to make sure to hear it more often. âJust like that.â You grabbed his forearm, and you felt the way his arm muscles moved, the same movement you felt in his fingers. With his other hand, he started to move your hair out of your face, and started to leave kisses on your forehead.Â
âCum for me, sweetheart. I know youâve been praying for it.â He whispered⌠sweetly? But his words seemed to be what you needed. You looked into his eyes one more time, and came in his fingers. You didnât make any sound, tried your best not to moan, or whimper, or let him know how good he made you feel. You felt like you were on a cloud. Your mind was hazy, and for the first time in what you felt was an eternity, you felt so relaxed and comfortable near Sebastian.
Sebastion looked at your face and couldnât believe it actually worked. He smiled at the sight. With your eyes closed, he could feel the faint tremor in your hands and how your breathing was slowly returning to its normal pace.
âI promise this wonât be the last time. I have to go.â You quickly opened your eyes, but he was nowhere to be seen. And now you were even more confused.
You looked around you, and he was actually gone. How did he leave so quickly? A part of you felt disappointed, and you hated it. The other part felt hatred, and you decided to focus more on that feeling. You were starting to get up and get dressed when you felt wet fingers on your right hand. Everything must have been a product of your imagination⌠Right?
You couldnât look at Ominis at all. A wave of guilt washed over you every time you saw him. You werenât even together, so you shouldnât feel guilty. However, you really like him, and you know he likes you too.
You were finally able to go through a week without any thought about Sebastian, but you couldnât lie to yourself. You needed him, needed his touch, needed his presence close to yours.
After that day, you started to see Sebastian everywhere. At the Great Hall, while walking to your classes, when you went to the Undercroft to find Ominis, at the Quidditch field, Hogsmade. You name it. He. Was. Everywhere. And to be honest, it was even worse. Your whole body craved for him. And something told you he was feeling the same.Â
A week passed, and then Sebastian was nowhere to be seen again. And the âmemoriesâ came back. But this time was even worse. You felt every single one of them. This time, they werenât only images playing in your head. You could feel everything. You could feel Sebastian all over your body, your mind, and somehow, your soul. You were completely consumed by him. And you know what it meant.
You quickly made your way to the library, as if you already knew where he was. It was almost night time, so you knew you could still enter without having to sneak in. You just needed Sebastian. You could hear sirens in your head. âStop,â âGO BACK TO YOUR DORM,â âHELL, GO FIND POPPY AND DISTRACT YOURSELF.â Nothing was enough to stop you in your tracks.
You went straight to the libraryâs fireplace and dispersed the flames that were preventing you from entering the secret room that you and Sebastian found 2 years ago.Â
He was already there, sitting on the armchair. He only raised his eyebrows and chuckled. Of course, you knew where to find him. He basically made you think of this place for a reason.
You didnât get closer to him, though. You were already making a fool of yourself. He had to be the one to get close, to start the interaction. He had to be the first one to touch you. And lucky you, Sebastian was feeling compliant. He could make you feel you were the one in control, at least for now. He quickly cast an imperturbable charm and an incendio spell so the flames could once again cover the entrance of the little room you were in, and prevent anyone from hearing what was about to happen next.
âMy baby,â you closed your eyes the moment you felt his hand on your cheek as he caressed it. âYou have been so worked up. Iâm sorry. I just needed you to understand who you actually belong to.â You couldnât understand why you were so calm at his words and actions.Â
You only hummed and leaned into his touch, feeling some type of relief. He let out a small laugh. You felt your stomach flip. Why were you so weak all of a sudden?
He was getting closer to your face. You could feel his breathing tickle your left cheek. He kissed it. And you couldnât help but hum. Then grabbed your face with both hands and started to leave more kisses on your face. On the tip of your nose, your right cheek, your forehead, both of your eyelids, and finally your lips. A small peck only. You licked your lips.
âKiss me.â You whispered. Your voice was hoarse. You didnât have to ask twice. Sebastian quickly took control of the kiss. He was slowly moving you to the closest wall. And when your back finally hits it, you snuck your arms around his neck, moving him closer to you.
He stopped kissing you and started to leave a trail of kisses as he made his way to your neck. He started to suck and tried to find that sweet spot he knew would make you puddle in his hands.
âSallowâŚâ You mewled, and he groaned.
âBack to the last name shit?â You slowly pushed him after hearing his words.
âWhen did I ever say your name?â He didnât feel like explaining himself, so he returned and kissed you once again, muffling your protests. You quickly melt into the kiss. He started to unbutton your shirt. But not feeling like taking it off of you. Then he grabbed the hem of your skirt and moved it around your waist. He quickly took both of your wrists and slammed them on each side of your head.
âFuck, youâre gorgeous.â He started to leave wet kisses all over the free skin he could get access to.
âSeb, please.â He smiled triumphantly.
âWhat do you want, sweetheart?â You couldnât help but feel uneasy at the petname.
âWhat did you just call me?â You were starting to think that whatever happened a week ago at the Room of Requirement wasnât pure imagination. But how?
âYou donât like it?â You were frozen, trying to understand what was actually happening. He didnât even waste another minute, knowing fully well that if he let you form a thought, you would quickly realize he had been messing with your mind.
The sound of his belt clashing to the floor finally distracted you. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Not that long, but he compensates for it in girth. Tip fully flushed, and a hint of precum was leaking out. He moved closer to you once again, and as he was jerking off, he moved to the side your panties, giving him the access he needed to fuck you.
You didnât dare to move, nor to make a sound. This was the hottest thing youâve ever experienced. He grabbed one of your legs and lifted it to get better access. The tip of his cock started to slide between your lips, smearing his precum and your juices all over his shaft, and used the combination of fluids as a lubricant.
Your breathing got caught up in your throat when you finally felt the tip push around your entrance. You quickly grabbed his arms to steady yourself. He slowly started to push his cock.
âBreathe for me, sweetheart.â Even if he was going in as slowly as possible, your whole body started to quiver. You could feel how your walls were hugging and squeezing him so perfectly while he made his way in. You gripped his arms so hard that you could see your knuckles go white. He just stayed there for some moments, giving you enough time to adjust and get used to him.
âSeb,â you whimpered, and he tried his best to keep his composure. âMove, please.â You whispered in his ear. You didnât need to beg.
Sebastian started to move like a beast. Your whole body felt on fire. You could feel the intensity, the desire on every thrust. He was pounding into you, making you feel so full with him. You couldnât really think of anything apart from Sebastian. Sebastian and the way he was fucking you against the wall.Â
âFu-uck, youâre clenching so good around me.â He was stating the obvious, but to be fair, not a single coherent thought was in his mind. He was pussy-drunk. âMilking me so good, too, sweetheart.âÂ
You swear under your breath. This was even better than all those things that have been playing on your mind over and over again for the past week. Every thrust made you shiver, made you sigh. You wanted to be like this for the rest of your days if possible.Â
Your mind was full of one thing only. Sebastian. Sebastian and how good his cock was slamming into you.
âFor Merlinâs sa-aake. Pleasepleaseplease.â You babbled as you felt the familiar knot start to form at the bottom of your stomach, and thatâs when you finally started to let Sebastian listen to those sweet sounds that make him go crazy.
âMhm? Is my baby close? Do you need to cum?â you could only nod as quickly as possible. âDo it, sweetheart, cum all over my cock, let me feel you.â His free hand moved to your core and started to play and flick your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm
Your whole body tensed as you let out a cry. Your sight blurred, but Sebastian didnât stop. He was now chasing his own release.
âYou look so pretty taking my cock so well.â He said between erratic breaths and moans. âIâm cumming, baby, please let me cum inside you.â You didnât respond. You grabbed his jaw and kissed him. That was all it took for Sebastian to cum, milking your insides with his seed.
Your mind was on Cloud 9. You couldnât believe you just fucked Sebastian Sallow, the best friend of the guy you liked. The person who has filled your thoughts for a week. And you wished the two of you could stay like this, fucking, together for the rest of your life.
Sebastian, on the other hand, couldnât believe he was actually able to mess with your mind well enough that now you belonged to him. He was never going to admit it, but learning legilimency was the best thing he couldâve done in all his Hogwarts years.
He was never going to tell you this. He was sure you would swoop his ass up if you ever found out he learnt an invasive technique that helped him get you right where he wanted. What you didnât know wouldnât hurt you, right?
Summary; Sebastian caught their eye almost as soon as they met. His unrelenting flirting was impossibly charming, and he wasn't awful looking. But when he never makes a real move, MC decides it's time to move on, and entertain other suitors before graduation. Sebastian Sallow clearly wasn't interested in anything with them, besides the games he seemed to play.
Warnings; Yearning, pining, hurt/comfort, jealousy, spoilers for quest line, lore, misunderstanding trope, possessive!Seb, insecurity, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, oblivious. 1st pov, sebastian sallow redemption arc kinda
AuthorsNote; Debated writing smut but idk. I am genuinely losing it over my boys. Feel free to send requests to my inbox!!
Timeline+CanonDeviation; Sebastian is back in the good graces of MC and Ominis after 5th year.
It was the first duel, really, I think. The flirty tone flustered me, I was sure it was obvious, and I hated how it stuck with me, even as I rolled my eyes and steadied the wand in my hand.
I knew he was playing with me when we snuck into the restricted section for the first time, bodies pressed together in the darkness, and I let it happen. I despised the pull I felt towards him, despised how I played along and let it happen, even empathized with his manipulative tendencies during the plight with Anne. It was naive. And I knew that, and I fell in love with him anyway.
It felt silly, hopeful, to think that maybe going through everything together had made him grow fond of me. Maybe he'd see me how I saw him. Radiant. Breath taking. Especially when he greeted me as I entered the Great Hall, his bright smile being the only thing my vision could focus on. He'd pull me close, thighs entirely squished together like he couldn't get close enough to me.
Sometimes, I'd thought maybe he did. See me, that is. When the flirting got more serious, more intentional. He'd look at me with a glint in his eyes that seemed deeper than before, not just mischievous. He'd seem to get more comfortable touching me, seeking out my hand anytime we left the castle. The first few times it was just to lead me through the castle, then he'd only let go when we reached the archway of the village. And before I knew it, we were in Honeydukes, and his grip was unrelenting, especially when he spotted his Fizzing Whisbys. And when his lips would be inches away from mine, breath fanning against my face. I'd wonder if he would actually do it, and I'd look to him, but he wouldn't meet my gaze. Staring at my lips for a moment, and then as if he realized what was about to happen, he'd scramble away, feigning ignorance, as if I couldn't still feel his pain impossibly hot breath against my lips.
I'd swore he was really going to do it once, his gaze was set on my lips, looking like he was fighting something, lips taught and devastatingly handsome brow furrowed. But then his tongue dipped out, and over his bottom lip, and he leaned in, lips a ghost against mine.
"Sebastian!"
He pulled away so fast that he almost fell to the floor, coughing and leaning against the crates of the undercroft. I'd never been so truly, purely, angished by Ominis's voice.
He'd always been protective of me too, and I had wondered for a while if it was genuine. Or if it was just to keep me focused on saving his sister. I couldn't blame him. I'd cross lines I can't even fathom, for the ones I loved.
I just couldn't ever shake the feeling that it wasn't always just for the goal, that part of it was jealousy. But I'd second guess myself anyway, convincing myself that I was losing it. Looking for things that weren't there and ready to make a fool of myself over Sebastian Sallow.
At the very least, I was sure we were friends now. Truly, friends. He'd proven himself to Ominis, and to me. Shown with time that he wasn't just using me. But his touches started lingering. Our flirty banter was almost daring, from him now.
"Whenever you're ready to handle a date with a Sallow, let me know." He'd throw his hands up, feigning dramatics over his really-but-not-really, invite to a date. "I'll be sure not to disappoint," he'd wink, leaning back in his seat. Annoying, endearing smirk plastered across his face.
It was frustrating, how he seemed to toe the line with me. Just barely acting like a boyfriend, before reminding me, in someway, that he wasn't mine.
Ominis especially would tease him, "oh please, Sebastian. You're like a pitiful puppy for MC."
Sebastian would retort with something clever, as usual, and that was the most it'd be addressed.
He was odd, later that day. Owl beckoning me into the undercroft at 8pm that night, a few hours after our final class of the day. I got there early, and he seemed thrown off by my arrival. Flushed, hair disheveled, like he'd been running his hands through it. He gestured for me to sit on the couch, and he fiddled with his hands, not meeting my eyes. I had hoped he was going to do it, finally say something. Address the tension that I was sure was there.
He'd sat me down to tell me what an amazing friend I'd been, and I fought a wince every time. It was painful, to be thrown around. I'd convinced myself there was something more, something there. Why would he act so chivalrous, so sickeningly sweet, and then act like it was nothing? Like it wasn't all I wanted, burning me from the inside out.
He'd say how he appreciated me. He'd pause at random moments, almost stuttering over his words, and I'd hope the next line would be what I wanted to hear. It never was. I walked out of the undercroft that night with my heart aching, pushing myself to be thankful that I could keep him as a friend.
It was late, when I'd stepped out from the common room, and headed to the kitchens. I knew other students traversed down here frequently, but I hadn't ever encountered anyone else before, so I was skeptical of the voices, almost bellowing out.
The tip of my shoe caught the ground for a moment, as I approached the door threshold, I was relieved to catch my footing before the mysterious students caught me on the floor.
I was sure they'd heard me. I'd almost wished they would have, maybe Sebastian would have held his tongue if he'd knew I was there.
I didn't pay much attention to their conversation until I heard my name, my body freezing before I could think to stop myself.
"I'd pick, MC, I think. Unless Sallow has some sort of claim on them," Garreth? My brow furrowed, what are they picking? My heart jumped when I recognized the familiar bass of Sebastian Sallow's voice.
"Absolutely. Don't fuck around with them."
"That absolutely makes sense. Because you want to keep them to yourself, but not commit to truly courting them." It was a jest, clearly. From Ominis, maybe? It was still a little muffled. He was trying to wind Sebastian up though, teasing him.
"Of course not. I-," the was a shuffle of some sort. I'd imagined he was shaking his head as he usually did when he was frustrated, "They're not my type. I couldn't date them. Not ever. It's not happening."
Suddenly, it was hard to want to eat, to finish the original quest that brought me all the way down here. Food seemed unappetizing, almost revolting.
I'd at least waited to get to my dorm before the tears started. The cold chill hitting the steaks. I'd shed my tears about it, allow myself to grieve. And then I'd get over it. I'd wake up in the morning and pull myself together, because Sebastian Sallow wasn't going to be what made me break.
I was angry at him, even as I barely registered reality, motioning my body to climb out of bed and complete my morning duties, almost with spite. The way he made my heart truly ache, deep inside my chest. How it was like he almost enjoyed toying with me. Was it intentional? Had it always been what it started as, as a game, me being the unwilling pawn even after all this time? It wasn't hard to talk myself into doubting even his friendship at this point.
Maybe avoiding Sebastian wasn't an awful idea. To put distance between us for a while until I felt like I could entertain a relationship outside of what I had envisioned with him. I'd shake my head as I adjusted the knot of my tie, frustrated with myself for letting my view of the reality get skewed. Embarrassing, that I yearned for my best friend for so long. Looking for something more in his touches.
He seemed hesitant to give me my space for breakfast, which was unusual but not unwelcome. Even though he did stare daggers into the back of my head while I ate, Poppy would giggle to me about it every so often.
It wasn't long into our Defense Against the Dark Arts class that Leander tried his hand at getting me to partner with him, throwing me an awkward grin.
"Sure."
"Are you sure? You must be bored of pairing with Sallow everyday," he teased, continuing his playful charade of convincing me as we were so used to.
"Leander, I said sure," I chuckled at him.
He seemed stunned for a moment, opening his mouth in shock, before closing it, and then finally sputtering, "okay! Great!"
Sebastian was visibly tense, eyeing me like I had scourned him. I knew if I met his gaze, he'd come over to say something. I was thankful for Professor Hecat for raising her wand, moving the desks, and causing Sebastian's leering to turn elsewhere. It was so frustrating, to see him act so bothered over me merely having another partner, when just last night, I wasn't enough to be 'his type.'
I wouldn't entertain the back and fourth anymore. He made his stance on me clear, publicly, last night. It was hard to focus on Sebastian amidst my duel with Leander, even if it wasn't the most engaging fight, he was still a skilled wizard.
I enjoyed the rest of class, chatting with Leander, and Natsai, as she joined us. Other teams dueled on, sparks and spells shooting amidst our chatter. I was pleased to be distracted by nice company, keeping my mind off Sebastian's duel when he stepped up to the platform, especially as Leander let down the heartthrob act for a minute, sharing a genuine conversation with us.
It didn't feel like a long time before class had ended, the creak of the ancient wooden doors signaling the rush of students to head off to the next class.
"MC, can I have a minute?" I slowed my steps, quirk in my brow before I turned towards Leander.
"What's up?"
"So, I was," he normally feigned a lot more confidence, so it was odd to see him so restless, fiddling with his cloak, "I was wondering if you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me, this weekend, as a date? Butterbeers, on me, of course."
I was definitely a little flushed when I registered his words. I was flirted with before, frequently even, by Sebastian. Leander, and sometimes Garreth. But none of them had ever showed real interest in courting me. It didn't take long for me to convince myself to seize the opportunity to get over my little crush on Sebastian, even though I was sure it'd be an issue later with him. An issue for later.
The walls of the castle were vast, yet gossip seemed to travel at otherworldly speeds. I wasn't entirely surprised when Sebastian was waiting for me, on my walk to the common room after our classes of the day. But I had at least hoped it could have waited til the morning, today seemed to take an unusual amount of energy from me.
I let out a breath as I froze in my stride, and he pushed himself off the wall to turn to me, "is this why you've been avoiding me all day?"
"What? To go to my common room?" I eyed him, suspiciously. His hair was disheveled, gaze almost furious at me. This couldn't be entirely about the date with Leander, right? His jealousy appeared frequently, but rarely was it directed at me.
"You're going on a date with Leander? Is that why you've been avoiding me? For," he shook his head, a look of disgust on his face, "him!"
"Sebastian, please. I am tired and I really don't want to do this right now." I hoped pleading might work today, but I wasn't surprised when he didn't budge. Sebastian was always stubborn to a fault, and usually that was endearing.
His gaze softened, "this can't wait. I can't," he seemed to bite his tongue, "you cant go out with him."
I let the air flood my lungs, closing my eyes as I stilled myself. Clearly, this was a conversation that he wasn't willing to wait on. "Can we go somewhere more private for this, if you're so set on discussing this right now?"
He stepped to the side, shoulders softening as he turned to gesture in the direction of the undercroft. "You first."
Sebastian's POV
The walk was quiet, neither of us opting to speak until the clicks of the undercroft gate grated shut behind us.
"Please, tell me you won't go out with him." I kept my gaze trained to the floor, hoping that I could will away the overwhelming pressure of their gaze.
"You can't keep acting like this, it isn't fair to me, Sebastian." How long could I keep this up? I knew what they were referring to. It seemed like everyone else knew too, based upon last night. But I give them space for a mere eight hours and Leander makes a move? Utter rubbish.
I was almost stunned, trying to grapple with feigning my ignorance at the risk of them brushing me off and going on that date, or risk ruining our friendship by naming what I've danced around forever now. But there wasn't any way I'd be able to stand seeing them with him. Maybe he'd bring them flowers, hold their hand. Would they feel the vibrations of butterflies in their stomach when his skin touched theirs? Would he touch them like I would? Would he brace his arms against the wall beside their head, leaning-
"You just can't! Okay?" The strands of my hair tugging between my fingers weren't enough to ground me now. I turned to them, I hoped they could see the silent plea behind my eyes, read my mind. I can't bear to see you with anyone else. It hurts so much, it stings.
It almost works for a minute I think, when they pause. It seems like I made a dent in their frustration with me, maybe I could salvage this without ruining our relationship.
They're softer this time when they speak, even though it makes the ache settle deeper in my chest. "It's not right, Sebastian. You want me around when it's convenient for you. You hold my hand, you scare off anyone else trying to gain my affections."
"When it's convenient for me? That has NEVER, been what this is. Even for a moment, you HAVE to understand that." My mouth opens before I can stop it. Please, don't make me say it. Because I think if I see the pitying smile before the inevitable rejection, I think it'll break me.
"Then what is it, Sebastian?"
They look so pained, pleading, even. "You pull me closer, and then push me away before I can think. Why? Is it just because it's fun for you? To play with me? You see how enamored I am with you, and you use it to play with me? Is that it?"
My muscles tense under the jarring realizations that dawn on me all at once.
"What?"
Which is clearly the wrong thing to say because they are swift in their steps, fast enough that my hand doesn't even come within inches of them when I reach out.
I knew their gaze wouldn't so much as go within an inch of my life at the great hall, but catching them after was supposed to be the easy part. It was like they knew when I was near, because they're stiffen or do something, anything to keep me away. Practically shielding themselves, as if I didn't have a surplus of things to say.
Even so, the pit of guilt in my stomach ate at me. For letting them walk away. Not just this time, but every time before. For the jokes that went too far, and then the cold shoulder after. For the back and fourth, the almost kisses, especially that one. Even now, I caught myself tracing my lip with the tips of my fingers, like I could relive the memory of their lips ghosting against mine.
I couldn't walk away again, even if I didn't deserve them. Even if I knew that I wasn't good enough for them, after everything I put us through, I couldn't let myself ruin this. I couldn't let myself ruin the only thing that ever felt right for me, knowing that they feel the same. I could be better, at least I could sure as hell try. Merlin knows, they're worth it. Even if I have to spend forever groveling, I think it'd be worth it to see their grin, the way it lights up their eyes. I could live off of that thought alone.
The weight of guilt and my doubts were heavy on my shoulders, second guessing what I set myself out to do, but I wouldn't go another moment with them thinking I didn't feel everything for them. I at least owed them that.
MC's POV
He was impossible! Even as my fists thudded against his lower back, and my legs thrashed in his grasp, he was stubborn. Of course Sebastian Sallow would use his physical strength against me, only because he knew I would absolutely destroy him if I had my wand. And he'd deserve it too! In what world is it appropriate to Silencio your friend in ANY scenario? The absolute audacity of this brutish man was astounding.
It was embarrassing though, the way he was able to disarm me, and hit me with a cast before I blinked. I almost wondered if I WANTED to get caught, just subconsciously, because when had I been so careless? Letting myself get caught alone, if it were, Merlin forbid, anyone else, it could have beenâ catastrophic, to say the least.
No, it couldn't have been anyone else. It was always him, only him, who could get me to let my guard down.
Yet, even as my body wriggled in his hold, I relished in it. His powerful hands were unrelenting against my struggle, pressed tight against the back of my knees. I did so desperately wish that I could get at least one good kick in, or at least see SOME reaction over my fists pummeling his back.
I almost had accepted my fate. His rejection, forcing a conversation and squirming his way into my good graces like he always did. And I'd smile, go back to how it was, and ache for him forever, probably. I knew that I couldn't ever truly let go of the man that was Sebastian Sallow.
It's just as the straining of my muscles set in that he unceremoniously pivots me to the couch, leaning down to make the drop a little softer.
"Finite incantatem." He steps back, whipping his wand out with practiced precision.
I held my tongue, crossing my arms, in spite of the way I wanted desperately to tear into him. It was exactly what he wanted, for me to speak to him, indulge the conversation he wanted to have.
"You had so much to say just a minute ago, what happened?" He teases, but it's tense. The mischievous grin doesn't meet his eyes. He sighs, pursuing his lips before starting to pace in short, quick steps in front of me. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry. For picking you up, and basically kidnapping you in the middle of the hallway."
I felt my brow quirk, only for a moment. I was sure I'd have to wait a little longer than this for an actual apology. I almost relented, before he spoke again.
"And I'm sorry for making you feel like I was playing with you. But that was never what this was, never." There's the hint of quiver in his voice, while he talks himself into the familiar spiral. "I couldn't help myself. I know it wasn't fair to you. I just," his hands tug through the brunette strands, "but I just can't watch the person I love be courted by another man. I know it's selfish, butâ"
"How long, Sebastian?" I rise to my feet before I can help it. It's a burn, so hot down my spine that my body runs cold at the realization. At the gears turning in my head, switches flipping and puzzle pieces slipping into place.
"What?" He turns to me, almost stunned. As if I pulled him from his thoughts so quickly it was jarring.
"How long, Sebastian."
He sighs again, long and hesitant, like he has to muster up the courage to speak.
"I think since the first time. Hecat's class. It was almost like I was dreaming and you pulled me back into reality. And I wasn't sure what it meant, back then. So I ignored it." He swallowed, and I could feel the frustration flushing against my skin as he continued, "and then I saw you. I mean, really, saw you. It was months afterâ everything. You were by the lake, and we had just started being friends again. But the light hit your eyes, and the way you laughed." A broken chuckle rose from his throat.
"You settled the weight of the world on my shoulders. You felt like home. I wasn't sure when it stopped being a crush, and turned into something intense enough to consume me."
It's the stinging against my waterline that makes me move, pushing myself into his chest, like his warmth could envelop me and fix everything.
"I'm so frustrated with you." It came out shakier than I had hoped, but I was grateful he understood, wrapping his arms around me like I'd disappear at any moment.
"I know, love. And I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I was a coward. I'll spend every day making it up to you if you'll let me." His voice shook, hot breath through his nostrils spread throughout my hair.
It was so long, so much time wasted. Memories that we could have made, self-induced heartache, so much anguish and longing, so muchâ
"You can kiss me, for starters."
I couldn't even register the warmth of his arms leaving me before it was consuming me. His thumbs rested on my cheeks, and his lips were firm, chapped, moving against mine almost on instinct. But it was delicious, satisfying a craving that I had been longing for. It was entrancing, being kissed by Sebastian Sallow. But I'd expect nothing less.
I was disappointed when he pulled away, until he started his relentless attack.
"I'm sorryâ sorry for being suchâ an idiotâ but can iâ can weâ pleaseâ do thisâ again?" Giggles wracked through my body, the peppered kisses fluttering against my cheeks, my nose, my forehead. It was the kind of soft, easy joy that I'd missed for the last few months while my resentment built. The joy that was being in love with Sebastian Sallow.
"I don't know, I did commit to a date," I pursued my lips, feigning my pondering. "I'd have to be convinced."
DETAILS â Amagase Kagari x F!Reader | Ikemen Prince | SFW: Fluff, Suggestive | 1021 word count
The Yasha was known for his ruthless way of protecting the territory. But who would have thought how impossibly soft and clingy he could be when he was alone with his Princess?
The golden afternoon sun bathed the engawa in warmth, casting dappled light through the trees.Â
The wooden terrace creaked softly beneath you, a familiar sound that blended with the rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. A gentle breeze carried the lingering scent of tea, mingling with the faint traces of incense from inside.
And there, sprawled across your lap, lay comfortably â your dear Kagari.
His garnet hair that was usually tied, now completely free from any braid. The strands spilt over your thighs, catching the light like flickering flames. His emerald-green eyes were half-lidded, lazily watching the swaying trees as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair.
Despite the occasional streak of mischief in his gaze at the most random times, he looked entirely at peace in this moment, as though he could drift into sleep at any second by now.
A soft sigh left his lips. To you, it sounded more like a purr. âMm⌠so cosy.â
You chuckled, your fingers tracing the shell of his ear before raking through the silky strands once more. âYou always say that when youâre lying your head on top of me like this.â
âBecause itâs true,â he murmured, shifting slightly to nuzzle against your thigh. His voice was thick with drowsiness, but there was an unmistakable note of indulgence in it. âI could stay like this forever, Princess.â
You hummed in amusement, rolling your eyes a bit as you stifled a smile. âYouâd starve, you know?â
His eyes flicked up to yours, sharp and catlike despite his lazy expression. âThen, will you feed me?â
You arched a brow before answering, âYouâre impossible.â There was a small pout forming on his face, and how could you possibly let him be when he was this adorable? You sighed, closing your eyes before gently patting his arm. âSit up, or youâll end up choking.â
Instead of listening, Kagari stretched his body like a lounging cat, his arms extending forward as he let out a slow, deep sigh.Â
Then, in one fluid motion, he rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. His hair, untied and unbraided, slipped over his shoulder as he crawled toward you, his movements smooth and unhurried â almost predatory, if not for the teasing smirk playing on his lips.
âBut itâs fine like this, isnât it?â he purred, resting his chin against your knee. âAs long as the food doesnât choke me.â
You swallowed, caught between exasperation and amusement. Kagari had always been like this â blurring the line between playfulness and seduction without even trying. It was bad for your heart, but oh well, once again, you could never deny him.
There was an array of cuisines, from kyo gashi to takoyaki, and of course â his all-time favourite â dorayaki. Shaking your head, you relented, reaching for the food beside you. âYou really are like a stray cat begging to be brought homeâŚâ
His lips curled into a knowing smile. âYou say that as if you havenât already taken me in.â
You ignored the way his words sent a flutter through your chest, instead lifting a piece of food to his lips. He accepted it with ease, chewing thoughtfully while never breaking eye contact. Those eyes â it captivated you beyond words. You were not the one eating, and yet, you found yourself swallowing a huge lump.
âDelicious,â he murmured after swallowing. His voice was softer this time, like he was genuinely savouring both the taste and the moment. âBut you know, it tastes even better because youâre the one feeding me.â
His words sent heat creeping up your neck, but you simply clicked your tongue, acting like his words didnât affect you. âFlatter me all you want, but Iâm not giving you extra dorayaki.â
He let out a low chuckle, emerald eyes gleaming. âCruel, Princess. Very cruel.â
Despite his words, he ate everything you offered him, his lips brushing against the tips of your fingers with each bite. There was something intimate in the way he looked at you â eyes darkened, unwavering, as if he were committing this moment to memory.
By the time you reached the last treat â a dorayaki â you sighed knowingly. âI save the best for the last for you.â
Kagari grinned, looking entirely pleased with himself when the woman he came to adore seemed to know all the little things about him. âYou know me too well.â
You broke the sweet in half, offering him a piece. He accepted it slowly this time, his teeth grazing your fingers as he took it from you. But just as you were about to pull away, his hand caught yours.
Before you could react, his warm tongue flicked over your fingertips, licking away the lingering sweetness.
Your breath hitched.
His gaze remained locked onto yours as he swirled his tongue on the remnants of sweetness. He kissed your palm next, his lips lingering on your skin, kitten licking everything clean. Each of it was slow, deliberate, as though savouring the taste of both the dorayaki and you.
The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine.
You had a feeling the dorayaki wouldnât be the last thing he ate for the afternoon.
âThank you for feeding me,â he murmured against your skin.
And then, before you could scold him for being so shameless, he leaned in, his face mere inches from yours. You werenât even given the time to still your heart. He was suddenly there, in all of your senses. Urging you to focus on him and only him. Truthfully, he didnât even have to try. Not when the two of you were alone, all of your attention was given solely to him.
His emerald eyes gleamed with mischief, and you could see the way his lashes flutter with each slow blink, but beneath that gaze â lay something softer, something like a reverent. Appreciating you for spoiling him by feeding him kindly, patiently.
But you knew it was so much more than that at the way his lips grazed yours.
ââŚShall I thank you properly now, Princess?â
authorâs here! so i just know kagari for like twelve hours and already falling head over heels... therefore i apologise for any mischaracterisation! hihi hope you guys enjoy this little meow meow
Thanacon's NSFW Imagines: Knights of The Lands Between (Part 1)
Alright scum fuckers. Yall already know ya boi Thanacon got yall with the spicy knight shit. If you like what you see, comment the knight you'd like to see a full fic/drabble for!!
Tree Sentinel:
Imagine being impaled on his cock as he nonchalantly rides his horse around Limgrave. You warm his cock as it stays still inside you
Imagine you begging for him to thrust, but he pays you no mind. Your tiny body clings to his massive frame and you whimper pathetically
Imagine him giving you a bit of reprieve by leading his horse to trot on rocky terrain, every bump and jolt drives his cock in a bit deeper
Imagine him casually riding by some soldiers of Godrick. You try to stifle your moans but he gives you a good thrust, causing your moans to slip out
Imagine him using his massive shield to hide you from their sights. He doesn't mind letting them hear you, but seeing you is just for him to enjoy
Imagine him taking you to a secluded grass field. He hops off his horse with his cock still inside you.
Imagine him laying down on the ground as you ride him. He wants you to be comfortable.
Imagine him finally start to thrust into you
Imagine him making no sound as he thrusts upwards into your heat
Imagine him gripping your hips tightly, guaranteed to bruise in the morning
Imagine his head falling back onto the ground as he increases his speed
Imagine a low growl being your only warning before he cums inside you, painting your insides white
Tanith's Crucible Knight:
Imagine asking Tanith for an alternative reward, an afternoon with her Knight. She accepts since you've been the most exemplary of the Volcano Manor
Imagine him stiffening up when he hears your proposal, and then shiver when he hears Tanith agree
Imagine getting ready and arriving to one of the Manor chambers.
Imagine seeing him on the bed, still in his amor
Imagine him trembling slightly as you approach eagerly
Imagine removing only his codpiece and palming his massive member through his undergarments
Imagine him letting out a low groan as his hand goes up to his faceplate in an attempt to suppress his sounds
Imagine fishing his cock out and stroking it slowly
Imagine his hands fly to his faceplate as he falls back onto the pillows
Imagine him letting out small whimpers as you jerk him off slowly
Imagine him thrust into your hand, a small push for you to go faster
Imagine obliging. He starts to let out laboured breathes with each quick stroke
Imagine him gripping the sheets tightly as he arches his back
Imagine him cumming as he lets out a loud whimper
Imagine him going back to covering his faceplate with his hands, embarrassed that Lady Tanith made him into your reward
Crucible Knight and Misbegotten Warrior:
Imagine being held down by the Knight as the Warrior fucks you roughly. The Misbegotten ruts into you like a mutt in heat
Imagine his cock is bumpy, knotted, and grotesque
Imagine the Knight gently rubbing your wrists as he pins you down, a stark contrast to his partner's treatment
Imagine the misbegotten drooling as he pounds you, his slobber dripping off and falling onto your bare body
Imagine the Misbegotten growling and snarling as it fucks you into the ground, signaling that its close
Imagine the Misbegotten roaring and slamming into you one final time as he cums, his knot locking you two together.
Imagine him pinning your arms down so the knight can pull his cock out
Imagine the knight lightly tapping your lips with his thick cock
Imagine the Knight holding your head still with one hand while using the other to grip the base of his cock as he ruts against your lips
Imagine him leaving trails of precum all over your face as he rubs himself on you
Imagine his grunts and moans as he strokes his cock over your face
Imagine yourself whining and trying to raise your head to get a taste, only for the Knight to raise his cock upwards. He lets out a deep chuckle as he pats your cheek
Imagine him groaning as he cums, painting your face white
