— ★ 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒

Lemon Blueberry [Suzuri Shuhei x Reader]

Pairing: Suzuri Shuhei x GN!Reader Word Count: ~2300 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Shuhei bakes for the first time, with you

Warnings: Spoilers for the manga (suzuri's backstory and current occupation); also warning for light mentions of Stuff Pertinent to his backstory as well; no gendered pronouns or terms are used for the reader; kissing; feeding each other food with your hands idk; written with aged up suzuri in mind

Notes: wrote this a while ago and it's barely edited but I haven't seen any suzuri fics so I have to make my own food <3

The light of the setting sun bathed the kitchen in its soft honey glow. Your focus shifted for just a second, away from the finicky stand mixer in front of you to the window, no doubt admiring the clouds cast in their colorful glow. And as cliché as it sounds, Shuhei thought that you are undoubtedly more beautiful than any sunset could ever be.

And to think he used to mock those who loved…

It still seemed like a dream sometimes. Partially the idea of making an honest living, enough for the rent on an apartment and a healthy three meals a day without stretching it; things he fought bloody tooth and nail for in the past were now within his grasp. And even more than that, he was fulfilled emotionally and mentally in a way that he never was before. He had pride in himself now, not the false, vindictively bitter and caustic ‘pride’ he had before, but true pride. The sort that came from improving, and learning, and going to sleep every night feeling content in himself and his actions.

(In his darker moments, he feared going to sleep, just in case when he woke, he was back There and all of this was the machinations of his starved mind.)

If it was all a dream, Shuhei thought, you were certainly the cruelest part of it. You, who befriended him back when he was still the starved, bruised wraith who first started working in the kitchen of a fancy red light restaurant, scrubbing plates until his hands peeled. You, who knew his dirty past from Tsubaki, but never looked down on him for it. You, who treated him like a person, and who made him feel more real than he had in years. You, who through soft smiles and gentle teasing and homecooked meals gave him his first taste of what falling in love must feel like. He never really believed in any sort of benevolent god (what sort of good god would let him suffer as he once did, anyway); yet he prayed every night that this (that you) were real.

Seemingly oblivious to his thoughts, you broke the silence by giving the mixer a theatrical slap on its side, like you were patting the flank of a beloved horse. “Are you ready?” you asked.

He nodded a little stiffly, hoping you hadn’t noticed him staring. (Although, you were a bit oblivious, he thought, because he is horrible at hiding his infatuation with you).

Shuhei had been over to your house a handful of times, mostly to hang out, or for dinner. This is the first time he would be helping in your kitchen. Despite the fact that he had been learning all that he could about cooking from his job, he had never baked something in his life. And that’s where you came in.

After hearing that, the first thing you suggested was for him to come over so the two of you could bake something together, and he had jumped at the golden opportunity to not only learn a new skill, but also to spend time with you (and also to eat good food, but that was a given).

“I hope you don’t mind, I had something picked out already,” you said, as you adjusted the colorful containers of ingredients situated on the counter in front of you. “Cookies are kind of the obvious thing to bake for your first time, but I have a recipe I think you’ll really like.”

“And what’s that?”

You turn the full force of your smile to him, and he squints a bit. “Lemon blueberry bread! I know you like the taste of fresh fruit, so I thought this would be perfect. And it’s not a very difficult recipe anyway.”

You were right…as you usually were about him. He had never told you, but he did gravitate towards fruit when he had the chance. Fruit was a luxury he could never really partake in where he used to live; it spoiled quickly and couldn’t be kept down when it was bad. Even the thought of fresh lemons and blueberries had him salivating, and you laughed at his eager expression.

“You know me so well,” he said, careful to keep his voice from being too sappy.

You flashed him another smile, and presented him with a measuring cup. “Can you measure out the sugar for me?”

-

Shuhei was a fast learner, and it was no different with baking. He had a lot of questions, and you answered them to the best of your ability.

“Why do you add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients instead of the other way around?”

“I’m sure there’s probably a scientific reason for it that I don’t know…but it is less messy than dumping a bunch of powder, and when you pour the liquid, it mixes a bit instead of just floating on top.”

“How do you know it’s done mixing?”

“Depends on what you’re making. Here it should look uniform and smooth…see how there’s still some little lumps in there? It needs to go for longer. Some recipes need to be mixed for a long time, so they get more air in them…doesn’t really matter for this though.”

“Why are you putting flour on the blueberries?”

“It keeps them from sinking when it bakes, so you get blueberries all the way through the bread instead of just at the bottom.”

“Can I eat some of it now?”

You hesitated for a second. “Well…you’re not really supposed to eat stuff with raw egg in it, but we should have a little taste, so we know if we need to add anything.” You pulled a spoon out of seemingly nowhere and dipped the tip of it in the yellow batter. Shuhei expected you to hand the spoon to him, but instead you held it up towards his mouth, and looked at him expectantly.

He could feel his face heating up at the fact that you’re feeding him; and he panicked a little bit. He ended up biting down hard on the spoon when he tried to taste the batter, making an audible click.

The two of you winced in unison, his from pain and yours from sympathy.

“I’d give that a zero out of ten for gracefulness,” you commented, “But anyway how does it taste?”

Shuhei felt even more red than he was before, but through his embarrassment and the pain in his teeth, he can still taste the bright citrus flavor. “It’s good.”

“Knew it!” you crowed, and then you gave him a heart attack by using the spoon to take your own sampling of the batter. “Mmmm. Yeah. We did good.”

You used the same spoon that he had just had in his mouth. That was essentially an indirect kiss.

You were going to be the death of him.

-

After the bread was placed in the oven, and all the dishes were washed and put away, the two of you sat down on the couch to await the ding of the timer.

“So, how do you feel after your first time baking?” you asked, looking at him hopefully.

Shuhei knew you wanted him to enjoy it, and he privately thought it was cute of you to be so invested in his happiness. Luckily for you, Shuhei loved making food (and he loved spending time with you). “I feel good. It was fun, I just hope it turns out good.”

Your laughter leaned more into a cackle than a giggle, but he still thought you were adorable. “I thought you’d like it! And I’m sure it will be delicious, especially since you helped me.” You shuffled a bit closer to him on the couch to give him a teasing poke, your eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching up in amusement. “Oh, does my help make it better?”

“Hmmm…I don’t know…didn’t your boss tell you you had ‘the magic touch’ with food last week?” you said, smirking at him. “Maybe you added some of your magic to this bread.”

He scoffed, turning away from you to hide his blush. “My boss is too nice. I just pick things up quickly, that’s all. ‘S nothing special.”

You poked at him again, repeatedly with your finger until he turned back towards you to smack your hand away (gently, because he didn’t want to hurt you). Your face had dropped its previous joking expression, replaced with a painfully open one. His heart caught in his throat at the soft curve of your mouth and the warmth in your eyes.

“I think you’re pretty special,” you said earnestly; your eyes shine with something he can now recognize looks a lot like love.

The timer sounded at that moment, and you sprung up from your spot to go check the bread. You moved suspiciously quickly, like you were embarrassed at your admission.

Shuhei remained sitting on the couch, frozen. He felt more dazed than when Tsubaki had cleaned his clock with a kick to his head. He barely dared to hope…but maybe, just maybe, you also felt for him what he felt for you.

-

The bread was already out of the oven and cooling when Shuhei pulled himself together and entered the kitchen. The two of you stared at the cooling bread in silence for a moment. The kitchen is filled with the warm scent of baked bread and sweet lemon. Shuhei felt the urge to lick the bread so he could finally taste it. His stomach growled, breaking the silence.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” he finally said.

“Oh my gosh, same,” you said. “It smells so good I think I’m drooling.”

“How long do we have to wait to eat?”

“I mean…really we should wait until it fully cools so we can put the glaze on…”

He turned to give you his best starving puppy dog face (a face he has created and perfected in the time he has known you).

You hesitated, glancing between him, the bread, and the unused glass of lemon glaze. He could see the conflict in your eyes, until you finally gave in, shoulders slumping as you sigh.

“Y’know what, it’s cool enough. You wanna do the honors?”

He was a little clumsy with the glaze, and most of it is absorbed into the warm bread, but you applauded him when he was done anyways. “Okay now, you’re officially done with your first bake!”

“Time to eat?” he asked eagerly.

You broke out an oversized bread knife, which glinted in the light. (If you weren’t so cute, Shuhei thought, it would look threatening). “Yup!”

-

You sit next to each other on the hard kitchen floor, each holding a thick, warm slice of bread in your bare hands, because you were both too hungry to grab plates and utensils and move to a table.

You gave him a nod, and he took his first bite.

If Shuhei thought the batter was good, the finished bread was heavenly. It was soft, but still packed a powerful burst of tart lemon flavor, and the blueberries had cooked down into an almost jam-like consistency that gave the perfect sweetness to the rest of the bread. Before he knew it, he had devoured the entire slice ravenously.

When he looked back up, you were still holding your own slice, forgotten as you stared at him.

He felt a burst of self-consciousness. He knew he still ate like a rabid animal sometimes; his mind and body still remembered what it was like to starve, even when his stomach was full.

But you don’t look like you’re judging him. Instead, you have that same shine in your eyes again.

“It’s good,” he said lamely, to break the tension.

You simply smiled at this and broke off a piece of your own slice of bread, holding it out to him, towards his mouth (once again).

Shuhei was careful to be gentle this time. He tried to keep from touching you, but your fingers brush against his lips anyway. His skin burned where you touched, and he burned even more under your unmoving gaze.

He reached out for your bread, breaking off a piece himself. It’s clear you expected him to eat it, but it’s his turn to surprise you. He held out the chunk of bread to you, fingers trembling minutely with his nervousness. He resolutely kept his eyes on you, even though he could feel his face radiating heat, so he didn’t miss seeing the shock on your face, and the light glaze to your eyes as you take the piece from his hand.

Your lips were soft when they touched his calloused fingers, and his heart stuttered when he felt the lightest touch of your tongue.

You finished the slice off that way, feeding each other pieces without speaking a word. When it’s finally gone, he reached out one more time, to grab your hands and cradle them in his own.

Shuhei knew how he felt about you; he never really thought you felt anything more than friendship for him, but this night had opened his eyes. Even if he was wrong, after all of this, he finally had the courage to find out what you really felt.

He waited to see if you pulled away, but instead you edged closer to him.

“Hey Shuhei,” you murmured.

“Yeah?” he asked, breathless.

The way you looked at him was so filled with tenderness; it almost made his eyes water. “I like you,” you said. “I like you, so much. I might love you.”

He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he let out a shuddering exhale at your words.

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before,” he confessed. “But I think it’s love.”

Your answer came in the form of a kiss.

Your lips were even softer when they were pressed against his own, and the flavor of lemon and blueberry was even sweeter when he licked it from inside your mouth.

Fusillade (Wanderer/f!Reader)

written for @illusory-torrent ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧)

---

It was a favor for a friend to let the Wanderer find himself while meandering with you. Two sets of eyes are better than one, and what's lost isn't so difficult to locate if you know where to look.

AO3 Link

Wanderer/f!Reader(not the Traveler) 4,954 Words - NSFW Vaginal sex, mild breast-play, mild dacryphilia, unrequited(?) love confession, sharin' a bed-ish.

---

When first meeting the Traveler, they’d been fresh-faced and ready to face the world. Learning their story had been a shock, but not one that you weren’t welcoming toward. Mondstadt was as good a jumping-off point as any, and after a few days together you wished them luck in all their future endeavors as you parted ways. 

In Liyue, they’d been a little more harrowed, a little more hardened. “A lot of things have happened since we’ve met up!” Paimon had explained in lieu of the Traveler’s own words, and you provided a sympathetic shoulder for the two to lean on as you made camp together in the countryside of the Land of Geo. And if they looked a little happier after spending some time talking and laughing with you, then that works just fine, you think. 

Unfortunately, in Inazuma, the two of you were only able to cross paths briefly. With the removal of the Sakoku Decree, it meant you were allowed into the country, and they were allowed out. There’s a certain air about the two - less so Paimon - that leaves you wondering exactly what happened behind the closed borders of Inazuma. 

You find out, much to your chagrin. 

It isn’t until a few months have passed and you’ve meandered your way to Sumeru that you once more meet your good friends - ones you’ve sorely missed. Of course, another catastrophe was narrowly avoided thanks to their intervention, and Paimon was more than pleased to fill in the gaps while you shared a lunch with the two of them at some cafe you can’t quite pronounce the name of. 

In the middle of laughter at something Paimon has said, a shadow casts over the table - similar to an umbrella blocking out the sun. It’s not quite so, rather the wide brim of an ornate hat as a figure approaches the three of you with a carefully neutral expression. First he looks at the Traveler, then briefly at Paimon, before looking to you. 

Before you can even think about introducing yourself, his interest turns back to the Traveler. “Lesser Lord Kusanali sent me to fetch you. Something has come up.”

“Is it urgent?” You know the Traveler is asking only because this means the two of you will part ways once again. Violet eyes dart to you, tensing for just a moment as a thought seems to cross his mind. The neutrality cracks only a little, and he almost looks interested in your presence. It must be an enigma, that you’d be important enough for the Traveler to put off meeting with the Dendro Archon for a little while longer. 

The male moves, placing one hand on his hip as he gives the Traveler an slightly admonishing look. “Maybe I should have been more specific. Something’s come up about that important information you’ve been wandering all over for? Surely that’s not something you want to put off more than necessary. Even for a… friend.”

With a jerk of his chin, he emphasizes that you are the Traveler’s friend in question. Obvious enough, but if he feels the need to make things clear, then who are you to tell him it’s unnecessary?

After a moment of deliberation, and an apologetic expression toward you, the Traveler drops enough mora for all three meals onto the table. “Sorry, this really is important, then. Will you be around the city for a little longer? I’d like to catch up some more.”

“I’m heading out tomorrow morning, but I’ll be around the country - I’m sure you could hunt me down if you really wanted. It’s not like I hide from you.” You lean on your elbows with a grin, pleased at both the prospect of meeting your friends once more, as well as having your meal so graciously paid for. 

The Traveler and Paimon leave with a wave, and the newcomer only gives you an unreadable look over his shoulder as they leave. Only when they round a corner do those eyes finally give you some peace.

---

You do end up leaving before the Traveler can seek you out again. A trip down to Port Ormos takes a few days thanks to a love of meandering, and how easily distracted you are by every little sight and sound of Sumeru. It’s a beautiful country, and you find yourself quickly enamored with it, despite the persistent heat and humidity. 

After you get your fill of Port Ormos, your trip back up to the city proper is a little longer. It’s nearly a month after your first meeting with the Traveler in Sumeru that the second one comes around. Paimon is with someone named Collei, apparently, leaving you and the Traveler to sit in the grassy hilltops surrounding the city with boxes of takeout settled between you. 

The conversation is easy at first, and then almost as if the entire purpose of this meeting was for something a little more heavy, the subject changes as quickly as you can blink. The Traveler has poor skills in segueing topics from one to another, it seems. 

Picking at the biryani in their lap, golden eyes don’t lift to meet yours as they ask, “Do you remember that guy from last time? With the big hat?”

“He’s not easy to forget, that’s for sure. What about him?”

And then it comes tumbling out. Who he is, what he is, and the biggest puzzle piece of all - why the Traveler is bringing any of this up. “You’re staying in the country for a while longer, aren’t you? Do you think it would be possible to have him tag along with you for a while?”

And there it is. Really, you have no reason to say no, beyond simply not knowing who this guy is. But the Traveler seems to trust him, and you trust the Traveler, so logically you can trust him, right? It’s not the most sound conclusion, but it’s the only one that makes sense, so you bob your head in a nod and laugh at the way the Traveler’s shoulders seem to sag in relief. 

The Traveler is leaving for the desert on an extended trip soon, and the Wanderer - Traveler’s name for him, and yours now, too - was staunchly against the idea of traipsing about in the desert despite being largely unaffected by the traits that make it harsh. 

“I’d rather take a dip in a volcano,” is what he apparently told the Traveler. And while the Wanderer was interested in taking some time for himself, away from the Dendro Archon and away from all the reminders of things you haven’t been made privy to, he doesn’t want to do so in a place he hates. That’s understandable - you plan on steering clear of the desert, yourself. 

And all of these situations are what lead you to this - following a well-worn road North out of Sumeru City, a silent Wanderer at your side as your steps fall into an odd sort of synchronization. Whether he is matching your stride on purpose, or if it’s a subconscious thing, you almost find it comforting. 

From the Traveler’s descriptions, you expect him to be sharp and barbed, but he’s been… oddly polite, if not just a little standoffish. When you explain that you have no destination in mind, he doesn’t seem put off, and when you fall into old habits of becoming distracted, he doesn’t complain when those distractions take you off the path. 

At least, at first. 

Eventually, as the day wears on, it seems as if he grows more comfortable. As you push through the afternoon, his voice grabs your attention. “You should take a break, you know.”

“Hm?” Your steps falter a little as you’re brought out of your wandering thoughts. Absently you answer him, more focused on pulling the lenses from your face to rub a smudge off on your shirt - sweat doesn’t cooperate with glasses, unfortunately. “I don’t really need one.”

“The issue with fatigue in humans is once you start feeling it, it’s difficult to stop. Take a break before you’re tired, so you don’t injure yourself,” Wanderer explains. Just like one would explain that the sky is blue, or that Dendro Visions are green, or that there are a multitude of subtleties that differentiate the two of you when it comes to physical composition. 

The Wanderer isn’t human, but he looks an awful lot like one, and you’ve forgotten until now about that important fact. Beyond that, there isn’t much you know about him, and it’s with a bit of slyness that you try to strike a deal. “I’ll take a break on one condition. Every fifteen minutes of break time, you answer a question of mine.”

And he laughs. It isn’t necessarily cheerful, but it does pull his lips up into a smile that seems unpracticed. Or, perhaps it is practiced, but never in this sort of context. Despite lingering cynicism, he answers, “You could have asked without a break - it’s not like I’m hiding anything. But I’ll accept. Now sit down.”

Once you’re settled in the grass, just off the road and out of the way of any other travelers that might come along, the Wanderer sits next to you with his legs crossed, elbow on his knee, cheek on his palm. “Ask away.”

“Oh, no.” Immediately you deny, stretching your legs out in front of you as you lean back onto your hands. “I’m saving those for while we walk. You dictate the length of the break based on how many questions you feel like answering. I think that’s pretty fair.”

A huff of air leaves him, making his shoulders jolt. It could’ve been amusement, disbelief, or maybe even both, judging by his tone. “That’s how it’s going to be, huh? Fine.”

The sun above is warm on your skin, despite the sweat that just won’t wick away thanks to the humidity. You turn your face skywards, observing the clouds and completely missing the way his head tilts just enough to look at you out of the corner of his eye, calculating and quiet. At least, at first you miss it, but the sensation of eyes on you is impossible to ignore after enough time. 

“Something on my face?”

“Sunburn, if you’re not careful.” Sharp words, but softened by the actual meaning.

With an airy wave toward your bag sitting in the grass, you explain, “I picked up a recipe in Liyue for some balm that helps protect against the sun. I’ll be just fine, don’t worry so much.”

“I’m not worried.” Wanderer responds so quickly that it completely defeats the purpose of his denial. His mouth sets in a line as his brows furrow in irritation that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It would just be annoying to listen to you complaining about your face hurting.”

“Mhm.” Is your response as your eyes close and you wait for him to decide that break time is over. It takes longer than you expect for him to get to his feet, and then almost as an afterthought, reach his hand out to help you up. When he looks surprised that you accept it, you don’t remark on that. 

Maybe the astonishment will wear off with your time together. 

---

“I don’t need to sleep.” Wanderer tells you one day, as the two of you are setting up your tent for the night. When you brought up that he sleeps outside rather than in said tent, he gives you that answer quite easily. “But I can, if I wanted.”

“Don’t you want to? Sounds awfully boring to never dream.” You ask, using the heel of your booted foot to push the last stake into the ground, securing the rain cover to ensure you stay dry in the storm that’s rolling in rather quickly.

There’s no fire to be set up, not while it’s about to rain, so once the shelter is pitched you climb inside and hold the flap open. As he turns around, he starts to speak but then trails off. “That’s two ques..tions…”

Wanderer hesitates. In his eyes, it must be odd - an enclosed room, with someone he likely doesn’t quite trust. But then he looks at you from beneath the brim of his hat, conflicted for only a moment before pulling it off his head and stepping into the tent you offered him. 

It doesn’t take long for the raindrops to begin falling, rolling off the waxed canvas and leaving the two of you safe and dry. Not necessarily warm, but you wrap up in your bedroll’s blanket as soon as the two of you settle in the small tent.  

There’s no extra bedding - he hadn’t brought any, and you’re not about to offer your own when he doesn’t seem to care. As you lay down for the night, he sits with his back to you, cross-legged and leaning back on his hands as he stares at the darkening forest through the mesh of the tent’s doorway. 

That’s the sight you drift off to as you carefully set your glasses to the side and out of the way. A smudge of deep blue and white, the gentle chiming of his vision as he mindlessly runs his fingers along the ornament and feather. It’s almost like a lullaby.

And that lullaby is a stark difference to the smacking of raindrops hitting harder against the tent cover, the thunder rolling above, and the surprising chill in the air thanks to the change in temperature combined with high humidity. You hadn’t realized you were shivering until you woke up to the rustling of your blanket being carefully untucked. 

Immediately, you ask, “What’re you doin’?”

“That’s a third question.” Wanderer murmurs, voice low as if he doesn’t want to wake you further. “You’re shivering so hard you’re going to attract a tiger - they’ll think you’re a wounded animal.”

“M’not-”

“Yeah you are. A wounded animal would make less noise. Just go back to sleep.”

The blanket shifts, and your seal from the chilled air is broken just long enough for another body to fill the small amount of space behind you. Squinting into the dark over your shoulder, you're met with violet eyes telling you silently not to say a word. But so far, you've never really been bothered by any of his threats, and you're not planning on starting now. 

If he's going to give an inch, you're going to try and take a mile. So you shift back, aligning your spine with the way the front of his body curves. It's deceptively easy to slot your back to his chest and glean some of the little warmth he gives off. 

Wanderer's chest expands as if he's going to say something, then he holds it back. Rain drowns out the sound of your quiet breaths, your muscles tensed in anticipation for what his next move might be. It's the one you expect the least, but should be most logical. 

Tentatively, his arm snakes around your waist in a quiet acceptance of how his little idea has unfolded. It's thin, but strong enough that he holds you to him with minimal effort. And despite how obviously nervous he is about it all, it doesn't lessen the effect of comfort and warmth he's providing. 

"Thank you, Wanderer."

"Please don't make this weird." His answer is blunt. "I'm not doing this for you."

"It's not like there's anyone else here." Your voice is thickened by your interrupted sleep, and your eyes turn wearily to the dim roof of the tent, occasionally lit by lightning. Wanderer's breath hits the back of your neck as he makes a huff of amusement. 

"I just don't want to drag your body back when you attract some stray crocodile to eat you with all your shivering. The Traveler would never forgive me. And their floating companion would be unbearable."

"Mhm… you're cuddling me because it makes your life easier then? Why didn't you say so?"

The arm around your waist tightens. Wanderer stammers for a moment before letting out an outraged tsk. "That's not-!...You know what? Fine, believe what you want."

And silence falls. Your eyelids droop, your thoughts slow, and you try to ignore the way you're still cold at the front, despite Wanderer's warmth at your back. The sluggish notion barely crosses your mind before he picks up on it and the flat of his hand presses against your stomach. Through the thin material of your shirt, the warmth from his palm seeps through. 

Despite telling you pointedly to go to sleep, he seems almost hellbent on causing problems for you each time you nudge at the threshold of your dreams. When your breathing slows, his thumb starts to slowly move back and forth, just beneath your ribs. And when you get used to that, his whole hand moves instead, caressing circles against your skin that finally have you asking once more, "What are you doing?"

"I don't know." And he means that - he'd hardly admit to ignorance, especially over his own actions. "Want me to stop?"

And what a loaded question that is. Because you certainly don't want him to, but you also don't know where this is going. It's hardly appropriate when his hand raises a little higher, growing dangerously close to the unspoken line about to be crossed. 

Almost as if on autopilot, your brain making the decision subconsciously when your mouth takes a little too long, you say, "No. I don't."

The sensation doesn't register in your mind for a split second. It's only after he lingers do you realize that he's lifted his hand further and cupped one of your breasts in his palm with a tentative squeeze. The two of you pause; you in stunned silence, him in quiet anticipation for what you'll do. 

As your tension starts to release, he gives another experimental squeeze, dragging his palm just enough to rub the fabric against your hardening nipple. A little laugh leaves him, high and breathy, and he murmurs, "You like this, don't you?"

"Don't sound surprised-!" You cut off as his fingers pinch and roll, your voice cracking before you can rein it in. With a spark of annoyance, you rock your hips back and find satisfaction in how he falters. "Ngh-... it's not as if you're not enjoying it, too."

Wanderer's arousal digs into your backside, growing more persistent as you repeat that movement with precision. In return, you get a sharp pinch that makes you whine under your breath. It feels like you've given him a victory, and he gives your chest one more squeeze before taking the prize he feels he's won. 

"On your back." He directs, pulling away enough for you to follow his direction. With both hands, he shoves your shirt to your collarbone, your breasts falling free for only a moment before his mouth catches one, his hand on the other. 

Instinctively, your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close enough that he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. With a sharp suck, he takes your nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it in rhythmic motions that match the movement of his fingers on the other. He’s barely even breathing, but rather working himself up into a fervency where maintaining the illusion of being human is pushed away in favor of single-minded desire.

When he gets too rough, you tug his hair, and he lessens the pressure. If he’s lingering too long on one side, a subtle push of his head moves him easily to the other. And all the while, his hips slot against yours, grinding messily as if friction between the two of you is an afterthought compared to how the taste of your skin is making his eyes flutter shut so prettily. His eyelashes brush against high cheekbones, and you fight the urge to sweep your thumb across to see if they’re as soft as they look. 

Instead, you card your fingers through his hair and wonder how it stays so smooth despite how careless you’ve been with it up to this point. In spite of how nice this all feels, it just isn’t enough. And if he’s going to go this far, you’d rather he just go all the way and be done with playing around. 

With a sharp tug, you pull him away from your skin and he looks ruined. Eyes glassy despite his laser-focus on your face, lips swollen, wetness across his lips from how reckless he’d been so far. Before he can question you, your voice comes out - a lower pitch than usual, breathless but still demanding. “I need more, Wanderer.”

Simple enough to fulfill, you think, but his lips twist into a smile that’s almost wry as he answers, “If you hadn’t interrupted me-”

“You know what I mean.” Any annoyance that might have been effective is lessened by the way he’s warmed your cheeks and slickened your skin with his saliva, his fingers still rolling one of your nipples idly. Like he’s not interested in it, like he hadn’t been nipping and sucking and biting you with the sort of abandon belonging to a man starved. 

Starved for attention, affection, simple contact… You’re not quite sure. Maybe it doesn’t matter, in the long run - any of those would be solved if he just stopped fooling around. 

Wanderer does know what you mean, and his tongue darts out to sweep the lingering wetness from his lips before he lifts off you, shrugging enough of the blankets away that there’s room to rather neatly roll yourself once more. From below you, he looks just as pretty as above. Hair against the pillow you’d just been leaning against, skin lit up by the occasional flash of lightning through the trees above, hands digging into the outsides of your thighs as you straddle his lap.

Inhaling sharply, as if he just remembered that perhaps unnatural stillness of a being that doesn’t need oxygen might be unsettling, he takes in the sight of you in the same manner of admiration you’d been giving him. It’ll make more sense in the morning, when the storm has passed and the cover of darkness isn’t enough to hide rational thought. 

Pressing his fingers against your plush skin, leaving little oval marks of red in his yearning, he murmurs, “Take it, then. If you want more, make me give it to you.”

And oh, does that do something inside of you. Setting your stomach afire with a need you don’t bother to control, Wanderer’s challenge is met with your hands on his shoulders, and a slow roll of your hips that wipes the attitude off his face in one smooth movement. 

Arching himself to meet you halfway, he chases the feeling of your heat against his hardness greedily. For someone that wants you to take, he seems awfully eager to give.

But he demanded that you take what you want, that you make him give it to you, so you leverage yourself away to shimmy out of your shorts as quickly as you can. Depriving yourself of his body heat for such a short time shouldn’t feel as desolate as it does, but by the time you return it feels as if those few seconds were the equivalent of a lifetime. 

Despite your partial nudity, you really only give enough effort to reach between your bodies and pull him free. While he’s attempted to seem detached - both in this tent and outside, where the world exists despite feeling as if it’s been reduced to only these four canvas walls - Wanderer’s eyes positively glow with a saccharine sort of longing that threatens to pull you in if you stare at it a little too long, a little too willing.

The first stretch of his cock brings you pause. It’s been too long, certainly for you, maybe for him with how his fingertips grab as your thighs all over again, as if he were searching for something to ground himself in this exact moment. You don’t blame him, gripping his shoulders just as hard; bracing yourself against him, pushing him down into the mess of a blanket at his back. 

“Y-you’re so-!” Spitefully, you cut off his words by sinking just a little further, taking a little more inside. Wanderer learns his lesson, relegating the use of his voice to what could only be considered a whine as you move at your pace, not his. Little by little, agonizingly slow until he has nothing more to give and you’re seated fully on his cock. 

You’re far from unaffected, but a need to maintain the upper hand keeps your face tuned to amusement as you watch the emotions flicker across his face. A great many of them you’re unfamiliar with, but perhaps he’ll give you a chance to learn them after this encounter. Maybe this won’t be the last. 

Finally, he looks at you through cracked eyelids, desperation coloring his voice as he pleads for you to take him. Wanderer tries to spin it as an order, but there can be no authority when he sounds so ruined from simply being inside you - no movement beyond the subconscious way you tighten around him for your own pleasure. 

Taking the smallest amount of pity - and growing impatient with your own teasing - you rock your hips forward, then back, and take note of how his head falls back enough to show the pretty line of his unmarred throat, usually so hidden by the high collar of his clothing. With a shaking exhale, pleased by both the sight beneath you and the sensations inside, you ask, “Does it feel good? You look overwhelmed…”

“I-I’m not, it’s just-...” Wanderer trails off, face twisting in a grimace as you repeat your movements, setting a slow and rhythmic pace that could be enough if either of you had the patience to maintain it. The smallest whine precedes his words, “You feel so good, I don’t think I can… I can’t-”

“You can.” You urge, reaching for his hand on your thigh to pry it loose, bringing it to the apex of your thighs with a purpose he clumsily realizes. Just the thought of having him - normally so composed and closed-off - completely pulled to pieces like this has you thrilled in ways you haven’t managed to feel before. 

That, paired with the obscene feeling of being perfectly filled by him, has you close enough that even if he’s a bit too overwhelmed to be precise with the movements of his fingers, you’re inching closer and closer to what feels like a monolith on the horizon. Swallowing around a moan threatening to tumble free, you turn it into words, “I’m so close, j-just a little more. You’re so good, so good, so-”

“Please,” his begging is hoarse as he tries to match your movements, tries to match the pleasure you’re giving him with offerings of his own, “let me feel you, please.”

Another inhale from him, like something is just on the tip of his tongue, but it dies as you tilt back a little. The change is what you need, the last bit to complement the succession of feelings in every sense of the word, and Wanderer gets exactly what he begs for as you find your release at his behest. 

Your hands lessen their grip on his shoulders as you abandon pinning him in favor of prolonging what you’ve found, and like the snapping of a leash he abandons any sense of submitting to you in favor of gripping your hips and jerking himself sharply upward into you. The sound of surprise you make is undignified at best, downright lewd at its most basic, and that only seems to spur him on as he takes on a short-lived viciousness stemming from unresolved desperation. 

One hand snatches yours, bringing it to his mouth to press a sloppy kiss to your palm - a sudden intimacy just before he takes your fingers past his lips and onto his tongue. A wrecked sound tears from his throat as his tongue twists between your fingers and his teeth graze at your knuckles before biting down with enough force to almost be painful.

By the time you’re coming down, he’s taken your place - pistoning with long, sharp thrusts that are short-lived. The two of you danced on the edge as it was, and he’s freely able to throw himself off of it with reckless abandon and his back arching in such a beautiful curve. His tongue stills, but you’ve gained enough faculties back to drag the pads of your fingers along his taste buds, dangerously close to the back of his tongue where it would make him gag. 

In that moment, his eyes open enough to look at you as he murmurs around your fingers that he loves you. 

Maybe he does, at that moment when the entirety of existence loses its deeper meaning, perhaps Wanderer does feel something strong enough that it could be confused for love. But as you pull your fingers from his mouth and fall to his side, head over his chest where no heart beats, you wonder how he’d justify it if you brought it up in the morning. 

You won’t - and he won’t either, even though he says it the next time, and the one following, each growing more frantic as if he were desperate for you to return the favor. If you do, it won’t be in the throes of passion - you want to mean it. It’ll be said in the sunlight, maybe even spoken with a nonchalance he doesn’t expect. 

His expression of surprise would be rather pretty, you think.

candy girl l r. kaji x f!reader

gen+ summary: kaji's been watching you, the girl at the sweets shop. warnings: just some fluff. kaji being kaji. word count: 1172 note: this is for @kingkatsuki who was asking for more kaji fics and i am so desperate to write. i hope this is okay. sorry if this is a little ooc. i might do a smuttier part two if there's any interest. please excuse any typos or errors, i did my best to edit this myself!

“You should go talk to her,” Hiragi says into his ear, causing Kaji to nearly jump out of his skin.

Frowning, he shrugs off his mentor’s close proximity and turns his gaze away from you. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a horrible liar, man,” Hiragi rolls his eyes. “She’s a pretty girl– real pretty. I know some of the first years have been eyeing her up lately.” 

Kaji feels his muscle coil as his skin heats up. It’s not like he has any kind of hold over you, he’s barely even said hello. No, he’s only watched you from afar for the last few months since you’ve moved into town and started working at the sweets shop he frequents. The moment he saw you behind the counter, helping an elderly man with his purchase, he spun on his heels and walked right back out. There was no way he could talk to you, not if you smiled just as sweetly to him as you did the old man.

It took weeks for him to learn your work schedule so that he could go in to buy his stash from the store’s owner and not you. You, whose laughter set his skin on fire, whose body filled his dreams at night, whose name sat on his tongue dying to be said. 

“You’ve talked to girls before, Kaji,” Hiragi adds, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Don’t know why you’re so worked up about her.”

Kaji huffs, pulling out a sucker from his pocket and shoves it into his mouth to avoid admitting anything to the one man he can’t lie to. 

But Hiragi’s too smart for his own good and makes a sound in the back of throat like he’s amused. “You like her.”

“I don’t even know her,” Kaji spits back.

“You like her, like her.”

“Shut up!” He shoves Hiragi away and is met with laughter from the older boy. “I can’t talk to her.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Kaji snaps, “she’s… her.”

He knows he sounds stupid, it doesn’t make sense to anyone, but Hiragi knows him best. “Listen,” his mentor sighs. “I’m gonna do you a favor and you better not blow it, alright?” He pats Kaji on the shoulder and crosses the street before the younger blond knows what’s happening. He watches as Hiragi enters the candy store where you’re working behind the counter. 

Your smile gives Kaji knots in his stomach, even when it’s directed at someone else. He can only imagine what it would do if it was directed at him. 

There’s not a moment where your grin doesn’t leave your face as you chat with Hiragi and Kaji longs for it to be him. Why can’t he be in there making you laugh like that? He can stare down gang members and hooligans but he can’t bring himself to face your beautiful smile? He was so weak.

Hiragi points towards the large windows of the shop, over in Kaji’s direction, and you turn your angelic face his way, and after months, your smile is sent his way. He’s sure his body has stopped functioning completely, especially when you lifted your hand to wave. When he forgets how to move his limbs, he can see Hiragi talking again, and watches your face light up with amusement, nodding.

You pull out your phone and hand it over to Hiragi who starts to type in something before he returns it. The two of you share a few more words before Hiragi’s back out of the store and crossing the street. “You owe me,” he tells Kaji with a flick to his forehead. “And you’re welcome.” 

Kaji’s phone pings a second later from an unknown number.

You: Hello, Kaji! Your friend gave me your number, I hope you don’t mind.

Swallowing thickly, he looks up from his phone to see you looking back at him waving at him again. 

Kaji: Hi. I don’t mind. Sorry about Hiragi, he doesn’t know when to mind his own business.

You: Haha, it’s okay. I’m actually grateful for him. I’ve seen you around for months but I’ve been too afraid to say hello.

There’s no way. You’ve wanted to talk to him, the goddess that you are? Why were you afraid of him? You, the embodiment of perfection. 

Kaji:  Really?

You: Yeah. I’m way better at texting than I am talking. I thought about bringing you some Chupa Chups that Senpai says you like, but I was afraid I’d fall flat on my face or something, haha. 

Kaji:  You know what candy I like?

You:  Um yeah. I mean, I asked. I’ve been squirreling away the peach ones for you since they’re in such low supply. Don’t tell anyone, though. :P 

He tears his eyes away from his screen to see you grinning at your phone and his heart squeezes. Steeling himself, he quickly crosses the street and pulls open the door with a trembling hand. When you look up to greet him, your smile is a little brighter than the one you gave Hiragi and his breath stutters in his chest. “Welcome,” you chirp. “How can I help you?”

Mentally directing himself, step by step, he moves to the counter in front of you and swallows thickly. “I’ll have a bag of Chupa Chups,” he answers hoarsely. 

“Coming right up!” You stumble away from the counter, giggling to yourself at your foolishness, and he feels himself melt at the sound. “Any particular flavor, sir?”

“Peach,” he replies automatically.

“Good choice!” You send a wink his way which has him biting the stick of his loli to stop himself from whimpering. He watches as you duck to the lower shelves, moving some boxes around to pull out a blackened out container. From it, you pour an unhealthy amount of peach suckers into a bag, and hide the container once more. When you return, you wrap the bag up in a pretty pink bow. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“A date?” Kaji asks hopefully, “Tonight, maybe?”

You bite your bottom lip and giggle once again, his heart flutters again. “My shift ends at six.”

“I’ll meet you here,” he offers. “We can go get something to eat.”

You nod, offering him another earth-shattering smile. “Yes, please. I’d like that.”

The door opens to a group of rowdy middle schoolers and the spell between you two is broken. “I’ll see you later,” he mutters, shuffling out of the way from the group as they bum rush the counter to pick out their sweets. He’s out of the door just as the first kid calls out your name.

He’s practically hovering when Hiragi finds him again. “So,” the older man drawls. 

“Shut up,” Kaji grumbles, tossing his empty sucker stick at his mentor before opening one of the peach ones you had just given him. “But, uh… thanks.”

“Yeah, man, no problem,” Hiragi laughs, ruffling his hair. “Just treat her right and we’ll call it even.”

Kaji wouldn’t dream of doing anything less.

Hello! I hope you are having a wonderful day :-)) If you are taking requests, may I request for umemiya hajime being your bf headacanons? Thank you so much <3

Hello! Thank you so much, i hope you had a wonderful day as well<3 and yes, I am taking reqs. Enjoy and i hope that you will like them heheheeh

Umemiya Hajime as your boyfriends | Headcanons

tw: none, reader insert, english is not my native language ♡

in the beginning of your relationship, he was worried that you wouldn't want to be with him because well... he is the leader of bofurin;

he rarely talks about his past but when he does, he knows that you will listen;

ume knows every single detail about you: from which tooth ached when you were a child, to when you have your period and what pads you use;

he likes playing games that involve summoning spirits around you (he tells other guys that he is hugging you because he loves you, but in fact, he is scared);

ume takes videos of how his vegetables are growing and sends them to you all the time. "Y/N, what do you think, aren't they lovely?!";

having a BBQ party together is a total idyll for him.

you are not in a mood? no problem, he's a sun that gives you energy all the time. you are sick? he sprints to the pharmacy. you had a bad day? he is here for a talk.

his love language is sharing: sharing how your day was, talking about funny childhood memories, sharing food, sharing money for drinks, etc;

the nights he comes back drunk he is extra clingy;

when it comes to eating, he insists on eating what he wants. this is one of the downsides of him being your boyfriend;

when he is around other guys and they are talking about you, umemiya is always like: "ah, yes that beautiful girl is my girlfriend. she is also miss universe. the pageant may not know about it, but thats the truth." loves appreciating your beauty all the time;

he says the funniest, strangest pick-up lines early in the morning to cheer you up as quickly as possible: you and the boys had gathered and were waiting for ume to appear. when you saw his figure approaching you, each of you greeted him. "good morning." you said to him with sleepy eyes, suggesting you didn't get enough sleep. "good morning to everyone but to Y/N," the white-haired man shot out, causing each of you to get confused, "because Y/N, you are already the sunshine that brightens my days!"

when it comes to kisses, he always goes to your forehead first, then your nose and finally your lips. his kisses are slow, yet full with passion. this guy likes to enjoy you 100%;

every time he kisses you, his hands are on your waist. he prefers to draw you closer to him in this way.

[Read from left to right]

Reposting my old fancomic of Solar tryna find a way to sleep better. Still a personal favorite and i wish i had more ideas to make shorts like these again ueueue

over and over again

pairing - kaeya alberich x gender neutral reader

word count - 4307

genre - fluff

format - fic

warnings - kissing/skinship, sharing a bed with no sexual implications, kaeya spins reader around in his arms, food mention, semi-nudity (kaeya sleeps shirtless), marriage

summary - there's a first for everything but the butterflies in his stomach will never fade whether you kiss him for the first, second, tenth, or hundredth time

a/n - happy new years everyone! WOOO FIRST POST OF 2022!! this piece is my contribution to @favoniuscodex 's "favorites with friends" event! i'll jump at any chance to write for my beloved kaeya, and though i'm sad i didn't get to write him the birthday fic spectacular i wanted to, i think this makes up for it in my little writer heart :P i hope you enjoy!

" I'M A MAN WHO'D KNOW NO HAPPINESS WITHOUT YOUR SMILE, OR LOVE WITHOUT YOUR KISSES "

the first time kaeya alberich kissed you, it was a melancholic, rainy day full of raging tides and crackling thunder.

he had only meant to test the waters; see just beneath your skin and observe the way your heart pounded in your chest whenever he strutted by with a wink and a blown kiss in your direction. but, instead, the tides had risen and engulfed him with sweet fervor and though his lungs craved the comfort of oxygen; of a no-strings-attached little game, he ceded to the sugary depths of your ocean's bellow and allowed himself to drown within your everything.

one date turned to two, then ten, and suddenly he wasn't keeping track any more because time seemed to fizzle off into specks of sparkling gold by your side, and in that moment of sweet prolonged brevity did he realize the hold you had on his shipwrecked heart.

it was a thundering day when he finally put his lips on yours for the first time. the recipe for disaster entailed: one rainstorm, one picnic-gone-wrong, two rain-soaked, giggling adults who ran hand-in-hand back to the gates of mondstat, and a stone archway where you brushed his damp locks from his face with a smile and he tried his best not to let his eyes wander down your sheer clothing. what should've been innocent touches and fleeting glances slowly began to bud into lingering touches and he had leaned in almost instinctually like a rehearsed habit before he even realized it. and never before had he tasted a flavor more sweeter than the smothered smile that he felt curve up against his lips, or your honey giggles muffled by the gentle dance of your intertwined lips. it's a sweet song that drowned out the hammer of the rain and crackle of lightning that zipped across the sky.

"say," he muttered just as his lips were about to meet yours, "this is quite cliché is it not? two young lovers caught in the rain for a kiss? you'll indulge me, won't you, sweetheart? or are you perhaps too shy of how good i might make you feel?" he purred with a droopy smile and thumbed the apples of your cheeks.

"oh shut it," the exasperated smile on your face grew as you tugged him impossibly closer and brushed your nose against his, "less talking, more kissing, pretty boy."

kissing was nothing new: nothing grand or revolutionary or anything that would shatter through the glass panes of his reality. at least, that was what he thought before his lips had pressed themselves so firm yet gently against your own and your hands, which wrung themselves around his neck, raked through his damp locks and ignited a dance of swans in his heart.

even after he pulled away from your lips and caressed every inch of your face with his calloused palm, he never truly ever pulled away ever again: for you were his sweet siren who sang tales of starcrossed lovers and destined fate, and he was a mere sailor who loved and loved and loved and jumped ship without hesitation.

continued utc!

" YOU'VE SHOWN ME WHAT LOVE IS—WHAT LOVE COULD BE IN ALL ITS INTRICACIES AND MIRACLES, AND I'LL MAKE IT MY LIFE'S MISSION TO REMIND YOU EACH AND EVERY DAY OF HOW MUCH I CHERISH THE GIFT OF LOVE YOU'VE GIVEN ME "

love is a tricky sea of uncertainty that requires a compass crafted of patience and a telescope forged out of understanding. but love, as he knew it, was not patient, kind, or understanding.

but you were.

patient was your heart which thundered so gently for him; every bit of him from the scalding portraits of firey flames on his body to the thick, coarse, wiry branches that engulfed his shielded heart. patient were the tips of your fingers, which brushed against his and never asked for more than he could ever give (because what he had was finally enough). patient were your lips that melded so sweetly against his and uttered words of unaltered affection bathed in a thick, rosy red glaze.

you understood that you could never truly understand a man like kaeya alberich and yet despite this your arms wrapped around his waist with no hesitation in sight, and you'd look at him as if his scarred and bruised hands were the glorious hands which hung the crescent moon and her glittering stars.

and the kindness that spread and branched out from your back like clouded, fluffy angel wings and engulfed him in their warmth; oh how kind your embrace was; how lovely it was to be peppered with kisses and bathe in your words of sweet love and adoration, or let you kiss the tip of his nose whenever you'd drop off a neatly packed box of a homemade lunch to his office.

he had lost his compass and had his telescope ripped from his trembling, young hands: but you forged new ones bonded of the strongest metals and utmost care and placed them in front of him: you allowed him to grab onto his navigation tools at his own pace, and with eyes unclouded by grief and fury and tools crafted of warmth, sunny days, and the smell of sunflowers did he finally set course for the treasure chest of your heart aboard his sturdy ship.

his compass guided his heart in the direction of yours, and with his telescope he spotted a shore line of a sandy beach where you sat with an armful of blossoming calla lilies and a gentle smile, waiting for his ship to finally dock.

and with these tools did he finally utter the single greatest three words known to all.

shoes and socks discarded and ankles deep in the sloshing, crystal waters of cider lake at the cusp of sunset was where kaeya alberich took both of your hands within his and first murmured a dream against your fingertips.

"say it again." you asked.

and he did. he said it louder, and louder, and louder, until he was screaming at the top of his lungs and spinning you around in the water until both of your clothes were damp and his voice was hoarse and throat sore and the air was filled with your mingled giggles and love-bathed gazes.

"well, are you satiated, sweetheart? or do i need to run my voice into the ground a little more?" that familiar boyish smile of his creeped onto his face as he cupped your face within his hands and thumbed your cheeks just as he did on the day he first got a taste of your lips, "though, if it's for you i wouldn't mind all that much." he murmured against the inside of your wrist as he picked up your hand within his own and peppered kisses all the way up to just beneath your earlobe, where you shivered in his arms and relished in his touch no gentler than the drop of a feather.

perhaps you were living the same dream when you whispered an "i love you too," against his lips, and let him lead you in a water-bathed waltz to the tune of rolling tides and cooing evening doves.

" I CAN'T PROMISE YOU MUCH, BECAUSE EVEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS; BUT I KNOW THAT SHOULD I LOSE MY WAY, MY HOME WILL ALWAYS BE IN YOUR ARMS "

home was within your arms, and you were never quite far.

according to his subordinates, their captain had gone "soft", but how could one not want to melt into the side of their love and feel them merge into their embrace? perhaps he was "soft", but softness was a sweet aria that sounded like you and he was an avid listener.

his duties bound him to work, but once finished you often expected him to be on your doorstep with an armful of your favorite flowers and a promise of a stroll around a rolling hill or two. bit by bit his clothes began to pile up in your closet, and yours his. he'd forgotten his scarf—slung over one of your dining room chairs—after a night spent humming gentle melodies and swaying in each other's arms while skewers of fruity chicken grilled on the stove and a tray of cupcakes baked in the oven (not to mention all the frosting he must have kissed off of your lips). you returned it the next day and draped it over his shoulder like a veil: he loved that it smelled like home because it smelled like the sweetness of the cupcakes you both had baked last night.

"kaeya! i thought i told you no spoon licking!"

despite being caught, he eyed you the second time his tongue scraped over the wooden spoon and collected the sweetness of the chocolate frosting into his mouth, complete with a satisfied hum. "my condolences, dove, but you must know by now that i'm simply insatiable when it comes to sweets." he chuckled and lurched his hand containing the spoon upwards just as you lunged forwards to grab it out of his hand.

"gimme the spoon, you big oaf!"

but that was the last thing he wanted to do; looking at the little furrow of your eyebrows and seeing you try to come off as angry but give in to the bursting bubble of giggles that wiggled up from your stomach made his heart flutter and glow a beautiful, pearlescent pink.

his free arm wrapped itself around your waist and pulled your flush against his chest, effectively silencing your attempts to regain the spoon and your giggly protests.

"won't you let me satiate my sweet tooth with just a little taste of you, dove?" he hummed against the shell of your ear.

of course he didn't mean the spoon—in fact he tossed it into the sink to hold the back of your head as soon as you closed the gap between your faces and let his sweet tooth indulge in all the sugary sweetness of your kisses.

his house was bathed in your glow: from little trinkets of yours that you had brought and put on his shelves because they suited him—according to you at least—(like the little trail of wooden duckies that shrunk in size the more they went down his shelf), to the now worn-in softness of his couch, once firm and hard from disuse.

there were imprints of your existences within both of your homes but he felt that there was never a need to ask you of anything more: what he had now was comfortable and safe. you existed in every crevice of his home, and how he dreamt so many nights of waking up in the morning to the smell of savory pancakes and coffee, and wrapping his arms around your waist and planting his chin firm on your shoulder while you flipped more of the delicacies.

he loved to surprise you—loved seeing the glimmer of your eyes when they lit up in excitement when his hands unraveled to reveal the prize beneath his skin: whether it was an invitation on a kaeya-esque date that involved mock pirate treasure hunts or a simple picnic in a field of flowers, or even just a little kiss, you loved it all and he loved you.

so with a heart bursting of desires for your hands to gently comb through his morning bedhead and for your clothes to hang neatly beside his in his closet, he looped a necklace with a perfect, bronze copy of his apartment key around your neck and kissed the back of your nape to utter silent words straight down your spine.

"you're always around, so i figured i'd gift you a little something to make my place easier for you to get into. you're the only burglar that i'd welcome with open arms, sweetheart." he chose to ignore the gentle, chiding slap on his forearm as he hugged you from behind and toyed with the metal key that now hung from your neck.

imagine his surprise when you, in turn, knocked him off his feet to the ground in a hug and produced a key similar to the one to your house from your pocket, made in a similar fashion to the necklace he had looped around your neck.

" I LOOK FORWARD TO ALL THE MORNINGS THAT I GET TO WAKE UP BY YOUR SIDE, AND I LOOK FORWARD TO WATCHING YOU BURN BREAKFAST TOO "

there was beauty to be found in even the most mundane of activities when it concerned you.

the minute his eyes fluttered open, he was gifted with the beautiful sight of your slightly parted lips and a thin trail of drool from the corner of your mouth as you snored contently with your head nestled into the crook of his neck. morning light streamed through his (or should he say yours—but really it was both of yours) bedroom windows and bathed your intertwined bodies in a honeyed morning glow.

it was the first time he'd ever woken up next to you when light was still young and birds cooed their sunrise sonnets. his fingers couldn't help but trace paths across your face and skin. he'd pull you closer if possible but distance was nonexistent when he held you so tightly in his arms. he couldn't wait for you to rouse from your sleep; just what was that pretty little mind of yours up to in there? perhaps one day you'd tell him if he asked, and he'd be sure to respond in kind with a foxy smile and tales of grandeur of his own.

but for now he was more than content to sync the rise and fall of his chest with your own and whisper ballads of affection with a sweet rosy scent through half lidded eyes and a gentle smile.

and when you did finally pull yourself away from unconsciousness and fell through the thick clouds of your dreams to wake in his arms, his heart felt whole and full and good.

"you're staring, captain."

your finger poked his bare chest with playful intentions under your fingernail before it dissolved into a tender touch where your palm splayed over his shoulder blade and creeped upward over his skin to cup his cheek, warm from the morning light.

"i quite fancy the drool on your face, wish i had a kamera to capture this moment."

he laughed as you groaned and pressed your face into his chest to avoid his teasing coos while you hurriedly used your sleeve to wipe the trail of drool from your mouth.

"you're insufferable, i'm gonna kick you out of my bed." you grumbled even as he hummed a chuckle against your scalp and kissed the top of your head.

"our bed, sweetheart." he corrected with an impish grin.

"...'m gonna push you off." despite your words, your arms tightened around his torso and you drove your face further into his chest—presumably in search of the gentle pitter patter of his heartbeat. he couldn't bite back the smile that spread to his face as his hand traced indistinguishable patterns along the length of your spine.

"g'mornin', dove." were the words he'd waited so long to say with a voice laced in sleep, and when you replied in an equally raspy and love-drunk tune and so easily slotted your lips against his, there was no other place he'd rather be than snuggled up beside you in your shared bed where you'd forever wake up with morning doves as your alarm and feel the gentle touch of each other's fingertips wander across starstruck skin.

" EACH DAY I WAKE UP AND FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU OVER AND OVER AGAIN, AND I WILL FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU OVER AND OVER AGAIN EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE "

if there were an image that kaeya wished to burn into the back of his eyelids so that he could always remember every intricate detail and glimmering sparkle of the memory, the image of you in your wedding attire and bathed in a honeymooned glow would be his first choice.

his hands were trembling—not the kind that you'd see in a strong captain who'd braved the harsh flare of fiery flames, the cold sting of frost, or the quizzical enrapture of the stars.

his hands were trembling like they were trembling when diluc first placed a frog into his hands at the tender age of four, and kaeya—never having seen such a wonderous creature—was terrified it'd open its mouth and swallow him whole like the creatures back home could.

his hands were trembling like they were when he first picked up a sword and felt the grip of it rub against his once tender palms—now, however, they were quite callous from years of use and wear and yet your hands still caressed his as if they were made of heavenly clouds.

his hands were trembling like they were when he carried out his first campaign as cavalry captain with a shattered heart and a mask that would slip if he were not careful. his voice commanded his troops and he rode his black stallion with grace and glory and all the reverie that a captain should hold, but deep inside he feared braving the storms that awaited him—feared the ferocious endeavors that would snatch the lives of his troop, or even his.

but you knew—you knew so well just why his hands trembled. you'd seen it the minute you starting walking down the isle on the carpeted floors of the church. the white suit he adorned made him look so handsome, so sweet, the epitome of the man you'd soon swear your life to in legal binding. kaeya couldn't take his eye off of you, not from the minute you entered through the heavy, oak doors to the moment you met him at the altar and placed your hands within his own. the soothing rub of your thumbs over his knuckles had him relaxing into your touch, and the little "hi" you whispered to him made him want to do nothing but sweep you off your feet and book it out of the church and go dancing at the shorelines of lakes or read each other fairy tales on gingham picnic blankets on summer breezy days.

and though his hands continued to shake while he recited his vows, his gaze remained fixed onto you and the universe of possibilities that swam in your telescope eyes.

with a shaky breath, kaeya began:

"i'm a man who'd know no happiness without your smile, or love without your kisses."

for once there were no glittery words or phrases bathed in gold. he was terrified of being bare but to bear himself in your arms gave him the confidence he needed to declare his truth once and for in all the holiest of places in front of all those he treasured.

he was glad he lost track of how many dates you'd been on; glad that the thunderstorm that interrupted your picnic had backed the two of your into a corner so that he could finally get a taste of your lips. the day you gifted him true happiness and felt the first surge of love from your lips to his own was the day he felt reborn again; almost as if he had touched the stars and gotten a taste of cosmic dust.

"you've shown me what love is—what love could be in all its intricacies and miracles, and i'll make it my life's mission to remind you each and every day of how much i cherish the gift of love you've given me."

he wanted so badly to wipe away the tears that had begun to pool and trickle down your cheeks, sometimes running over the warbled smile on your lips.

"crying already, darling? but i've only read half of my vows." he leaned down and whispered for your only your ears. he did his best to ignore the slight crack in his voice towards the end and swiped his thumb just below your eye and kept his trembling hand pressed snug against your cheek.

"i can't promise you much, because even i don't know what the future holds; but i know that should i lose my way, my home will always be in your arms."

now it was his turn to tear up, despite how much he promised himself that he wouldn't cry. he tried to dissuade the urge to cry during his vows beforehand (because no matter how hard he tried, whenever he read those promised, sacred words, he just couldn't prevent himself from crying). but, for once, these tears weren't from a place of sorrow and grief, but rather a warm garden filled with roses and carnations and a sparkling fountain with both of your names inscribed on the shining marble. he let out a breathy, shaky laugh when you mimicked his touch and cupped his cheek within your palm to swipe away at the tears that cascaded down his face. kaeya didn't quite know if it was improper to so openly touch you beloved before you were wedded in the church, but nothing mattered more than the gentleness of your touch at the moment.

"i look forward to all the mornings that i get to wake up by your side," he started, squeezing your hand before continuing, "and i look forward to watching you burn breakfast too."

laughter rippled throughout the crowd as you choked back a joyful sob and gently knocked him in the shin with your shoe. "i'll make sure yours is burnt to a crisp, alberich." you muttered.

"what, me or you? we'll both be alberich in a minute, sweetheart." he retorted, despite the glimmer of fresh tears in his eye.

choosing to ignore the side eye of urgency that the pastor gave him, kaeya let go of your hand for a brief moment to pluck a single, blue rose from your bouquet and place it behind your ear before continuing.

"each day i wake up and fall in love with you over and over again, and i will fall in love with you over and over again every day for the rest of my life."

his hands still trembled: more than when diluc placed a frog into his hands, more than when he first knew the weight of a sword, more than when he led his first campaign. but they trembled within your own, and he knew that no matter what he'd be safe enveloped within your touch.

somewhere in the process, the pastor officiated him as your husband and those in the pews cheered, but he was far too enamored with studying every inch of your face and dipping into the pools of your eyes that never flickered away from him no matter what. when you finally cupped his cheeks and kissed him with such adoration and twinkles of starlight in your eyes, he knew that you'd always be there to hold onto his shaking hands.

kaeya knows how to dance with frost: be quick on your feet, subtle with your moves and never, ever, let the enemy get a hint of your next move.

but dancing with you for the first time as your husband was nothing like the dance of a battle of frost. it felt warm, soothing, and sweet: like the first bite of a gooey, chocolate cookie straight out of the oven. as he wrapped his arms around your waist and let you loop yours around his neck, he felt no need to adhere to the ebb and flow of noblemen footwork and fancy dance tactics. your noses brushed against one another, and he was pretty sure he was swaying with you much slower than the tempo of the song, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

the shimmering golden band that adorned his left ring finger was a reminder of his vows, both spoken and silent, and the life that he'd forge by your side as one who loves you. and as he raised your hand to press his lips to the similar ring that encased your finger, he felt a surge of determination wash over him like a gentle tide.

"hey," you murmured, and raised a hand to cup his cheek.

he hummed an acknowledgment and pressed his lips to the inside of your wrist without breaking the starry gaze that connected your eyes to his.

"i'm sure that our dance was supposed to end a little while ago." you giggled and weaved a lock of his fluffy, indigo hair through one of your fingers.

"was it now? my apologies, love, i got lost staring into your eyes."

he tastefully chose to ignore your playful eyeroll and instead zeroed in on your lips, which were moving and probably chiding him for making such a cheesy remark. as if in a trance, his hands cupped your face and tilted your head to the side for a tender kiss that felt like the first breath of spring in his veins; more dainty and gentle than the fragile petals of a soft, velvety rose. his fingers ran over the soft tips of the blue rose he had tucked behind your ear at the altar once he pulled away, all awestricken and breathless in the lungs.

there weren't any words that he needed to preach; no lord to impress, no one to woo or have them do his bidding in a game of wits. just you: you who loved him wholly and as he was for the man he knew himself to be.

the food, guests, and party can wait: because in your arms he is home and home is where he wished to forever remain.

date published: january 9th, 2022

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “GOD, I’M SO LOVESICK.”

HOW THEY EXPRESS THEIR LOVE FOR YOU + THEIR FAVORITE WAY TO RECEIVE AFFECTION. ft. togame jo, umemiya hajime, hayato suo, kyotaro sugishita, hiragi toma, yamato endo, sakura haruka, choji tomiyama, & kiryuu mitsuki

original request: “Hi hi! Could i get fluffy relationship headcanons for togame jo, umemiya hajime, hayato suo & kyotaro sugishita such as what their love languages are and - how they express/ like to receive affection? Thank you! Cant wait for more windbreaker content☺️”

sfw. fluff fluff fluff; 1.7K wc! i added some characters xx

TOGAME JO.

anyone who’s seen the way togame looks at you can confirm just exactly how lovesick he really is. whether you’re debriefing the entirety of your day for him or sound asleep against his chest, his eyes look at you with the same adoration, his lips never failing to curl into a soft little smile for you. especially now, when you’re nestled so comfortably on top of him, sound asleep and mouth slightly ajar to let out quiet breaths— he’s reminded of just how much he loves you.

when a car abruptly honks somewhere outside, you stir a bit, about to leave your spot off his chest when his hand comes to lazily guide you back against him, thumb brushing back and forth along your cheek until you’re sighing into the touch, eyes fluttering back shut. he keeps still when he’s sure you’ve fallen asleep again, his mind thankful for the way your tv illuminates your features so nicely, letting him gaze and appreciate you for just a little longer until he finally joins you in your sleep, long arms wrapped snuggly around you as he snores lightly, a serene expression on his face that only you are able to bring.

he truly thinks the world is being far too nice to him when you show up in front of his doorstep a couple days later, his favorite home cooked dish weighing down your hands as you give him that cheerful smile. he’s always been someone enjoyed a good meal— but it’s different when he knows you’ve taken your time to prepare everything yourself. just for him. he can’t help the tinge of guilt that bubbles inside him when he notices the way your fingers are all scratched up from it, but when you’re so eagerly taking his spoon to lean over and feed him a bite, there’s nothing else in the world that could bring him the same amount of joy.

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

umemiya has always been a sucker for shared meals, but his love for trying foods has increased tenfold since he’s met you. as soon as he catches word of an ayce sushi challenge, or a new boba shop opening down the street, he’s dragging you there, ordering as much as the two of you can handle because he wants to experience everything he can with you.

he thinks your physical touch holds a special place in his heart— he loves when you’re the one to pull him into a suffocating hug, enveloping as much ume as you can possibly fit into your arms before you finally let him go, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a soft kiss.

HAYATO SUO.

before suo had met you, the snacks he was gifted on patrol were usually handed to nirei or sakura without a second thought. slowly, he’s found himself saving the pastry he thought you would like most. however, as time went by, he’s reached a point where he doesn’t save you gifted snacks anymore, and instead— he goes out of his way to stop by a local bakery to pick out something fresh for you himself. he thinks of it as a guessing game and prides himself on his ability to choose pastries that you’ll end up loving.

suo thought his favorite part of the day was to see the smile that you routinely gave him after he gave you a snack, however, his answer changed when he caught a glimpse of the note page on your phone titled “facts about my boyfriend” with every preference of his listed on it with alarming precision and detail. knowing that you’ve put in so much effort to understand him made his heart flutter in a way he’s never experienced before.

KYOTARO SUGISHITA.

besides typical acts of service, like ripping the jar out of your hands before you even try to open it yourself, sugishita is someone who is genuinely interested to learn about whatever your hobbies are, which leads him to his current situation— he’s browsing the web, scrolling and reading anything he can find about how your hobby works, the materials and processes, absolutely everything. by the next day, he knows exactly what to do to make your life ten times easier, and is happy to do all the dirty work so that you can simply enjoy the fun parts of your hobby.

he thinks his favorite feeling in the world is when you talk to him. even if you’re simply rambling about your day, he never fails to give you his full, undivided attention and can recall every detail you brought up. besides that, he has a particularly weak spot for words of affirmation. when the words roll off your tongue so sweetly, he finds himself deepening his scowl, but the vibrant shade of red dusting his cheeks is proof that he’s full of nothing but warmth inside.

HIRAGI TOMA.

hiragi has picked up a lot of little habits since meeting you. for one, he’s learned that you tend to wake up in the middle of the night feeling thirsty, so he’s started to leave your water bottle by your nightstand. he’s gone through the efforts of watching and learning which areas of your home are hotspots for misplaced items, so when something goes missing, you always end up asking him to help you find it because he’ll just know.

hiragi can feel his heartstrings tugging ever so slightly when you’re on your knees beside him in bed, asking him with that innocent look on your face if he’s in pain. “your stomach hurts again? do you want some soup?” your voice is filled with nothing but softness and concern, and he thinks he can feel his stomach turn inside out at the kindness.

YAMATO ENDO.

if someone was looking for endo, they would most likely check your apartment first. he’s made it a habit to frequently visit your place (unannounced), and ends up lounging on your bed nearly every day of the week. he’ll bored and restless when you’re not there; tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling until you finally come back to him, your hands crossed over your chest as you nag at him once again for throwing your plushies all over the floor. he likes it even more when you try and push him to one side of your bed, huffing that he shouldn’t be hogging a bed that doesn’t even belong to him before you eventually give up and settle onto his lap in defeat.

endo thinks he feels the most relaxed when you trace his tattoos with your finger. he can’t quite explain the serenity he feels when it’s just you and him, but he knows he wants to feel your fingertips running along his skin in intricate patterns and the occasional kisses you’ll press against his skin.

CHOJI TOMIYAMA.

you know choji’s weak spot like the back of your hand. there’s a certain sigh of content he gives you when your hand comes to ruffle his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingers a couple times as he melts into you, eyes fluttering shut and arms coming to wrap loosely around your waist. sometimes he’ll give you a pout when you stop, a little whine to keep doing that thing with his hair, and he’s just so in love that he wants to be under your touch for eternity.

SAKURA HARUKA.

since meeting you, sakura has tried nothing short of his very best to open his heart to you. at first, it’s little changes that go easily unnoticed— a silent wave becoming a mumbled “see you later.” or when you say you love him, his flustered “shut up” eventually changes into an incoherent babble that vaguely resembles the words “love you too.” out of all his efforts, he thinks his biggest feat yet was when he abruptly stuck his hand out behind him, a silent and nervous plea for you to come and hold his hand.

your existence alone is enough to bring a furious blush to his face, but there’s a part of him that is eternally grateful for how patient you are with him. he had a paralyzing fear that you would eventually get tired at his tendency to isolate himself— but your comfort has remained a constant in his life. it’s taken him a long time to come to terms with the fact that you’ll always be there to shower him with love, so he’s much more motivated to work harder towards becoming someone who can return those same displays of affection.

KIRYUU MITSUKI.

kiryuu makes a mental note of all the little items you show interest in. it’s a mystery to anyone as to how he managed to snag you that cherry coach bag you briefly mentioned was cute, or gift you the cinnamoroll x miku figurine you showed him on your phone for a split second (that you were certain was sold out everywhere you checked). he laughs a bit when you ask him to choose another blind box for you, huffing about how you only get good pulls if he picks them for you. he’s just got a really good ear and can tell which box contains which figure based off the noises— or so he says.

his heart softens at the sight of you tonight, buried underneath his blankets as your thumbs move frantically against his switch before stilling completely, an exasperated “i died again,” coming from you before you’re looking up at him with that little pout that makes his heart skip a beat. he’ll poke a bit of fun at you first, asking if you need some help before you end up bringing his player down yet another rank, but he’s gentle when he pulls you onto his lap, his hands coming to rest over yours as he moves the player for you. “that was a lot better, wasn’t it?” he asks against the shell of your ear, but he knows good and well that you’re too flustered to comprehend whatever combo he had just gone over.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐭

warnings/info: scaramouche x gn!reader, scaramouche lore spoilers, not proofread very well, ~1k words, fluff, overuse of italics, no other warnings

notes from tori: continuation (prt3) to the husk of opulance miniseries. i am planning on writing a part 4. please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in that!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (you are here)

Nights on Yashiori Island were painfully dark. Dark enough to be vulnerable, and yet, Scaramouche had kept your quaint pair so safely hidden while he formulated whatever plan he was concocting. Currently, you were sitting across from the man, orange firelight between you casting deep shadows across his dramatic features, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared intently at you. The pads of his fingers were pressed together in front of his mouth, but despite his contemplative, overall calm posture, you couldn’t resist squirming under his burning gaze. The violet in his irises glowed, reflecting the embers below, and he stared. He stared at your face, studying each curve without expression. 

“Kunikuzushi.” You murmured, feeling the need to coax him from his thoughts. Aching to sever the tension before it stirred up the raging thoughts you’d had since that night.

That night. 

His hands had been calloused yet delicate against your skin when he slid on your shoes. Like he cared. Perhaps that wasn’t far-fetched at face value, but anyone who knew Scaramouche knew. They knew how monumental such a gesture would be. 

Scaramouche didn’t respond to your meek call of his name, and you shivered internally, warmed by the fire and yet so cold within. 

“Is everything-”

“At dawn, I will be leaving for a time.” He interrupted matter-of-factly, his words leaving no room for argument. “I will be coming back. You better stay put while I’m gone.”

“What?” You guffawed, your voice barely cutting across the smokescreen. “Where are you going? Why can’t I come?” His eyes narrowed at your interrogation, but he remained otherwise calm.

Keep reading

4:15am — Hayato Suo

“A real gentleman is as polite to a little girl as to a woman.”

You remember reading that exact line a while back, though you can’t remember where. And if it weren’t for your boyfriend holding a lost little girl’s hand as he brings her to safety, you would have forgotten the quote altogether.

But today that quote wasn’t leaving your mind anytime soon.

“Here you go, let’s sit down here,” Suo gestured to a nearby bench, gently guiding her through her teary eyes. “Do you happen to remember your parent’s number?”

The young girl sniffled and wiped her tear stained cheeks. “N-No, I’m sorry…” she croaked, guilt creeping into her glossy eyes.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey now— it’s okay,” he whispered soothingly. “I’m sure they’re looking for you too. Could you give us a visual description of what they look like?”

You were seated next to the little girl while Suo was crouched besides her, opting to give you the leftover seat for a chance to rest your legs. It was a sweet gesture, really. But you wish he’d give himself an opportunity to rest too, seeing as he just dealt with a small gang all by himself.

How this situation started was a blur. One minute you were shopping for a new flavor of tea with Suo, and the next you were comforting a girl no older then ten while your boyfriend beat up a group of punks that thought it’d be fun to pick on her. The moment they were all down, Suo had the three of you flee the scene to keep the young girl safe.

You kept a gentle gaze on the girl next to you, though it didn’t stop you from sending Suo a concerned glance for her. She was clearly frightened— no doubt about it, and you couldn’t blame her. If you were little, lost from your parents, and older kids started teasing you, you’d get worked up as well.

“They’re tall… both reallyyy tall,” she said through sniffles. “Mommy has long blonde hair, and daddy has big curly hair on his head and face.”

Suo nodded, retaining the newly acquired information. “I see, can you recall the last place you saw them?”

He gazed at her softly, a look that made her feel safe and secure despite it coming from a stranger. Her sniffles stifled, and her breathing soothed.

Before she could respond, haste footsteps approached the three of you. You snapped your head in the direction the sound came from for confirmation that it wasn’t the boys from earlier. Instead, you were met with unfamiliar faces that matched the description you had just heard.

“Oh goodness, there she is!”

The blonde woman came rushing to her daughter, scooping her up in her arms as she let out a sigh of relief. “We were so worried about you…”

Suo and you both stood, finding your way back to each other’s sides as you watched the small family reunite.

The man— who you could only assume was the little girl’s father— bowed in gratitude.

“Thank you, thank you so much for keeping her safe,” he expressed, sounding quite out of breath.

“We were happy to help,” Suo smiled. “She didn’t get herself into any trouble, unfortunately it came to her. So please, don’t blame her for the commotion.”

The girl’s mother set her back on her feet, allowing her to hug both your and Suo simultaneously. You both hugged back, of course.

“I hope I can be as cool as you guys one day…!”

You side-eyed your boyfriend subtly, as did he, and let out a small chuckle. Neither of you would consider your actions to be “cool,” they were just good deeds. It’d be pure evil to leave such a young kid alone in a dangerous situation, something neither you or Suo would stand for.

“Again, thank you so much. We really can’t thank you enough for handling everything.”

You waved your hands, “It was no problem, really. Like he said— we were glad to help.”

Suo nodded next to you, tilting his head and sending a close-eyed smile to the family, waving as they set off. Once they were out of sight, a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“Stressed?”

“Not anymore, but that whole thing had my heart racing. That poor girl…” your voice trailed off, thinking about what might’ve happened if neither of you were nearby. “Although…”

His brow lifted in curiosity as you turned to face him with a teasing grin. “I never imagined you being such a hero to kids~”

“What can I say?” he chuckled. “I’ve always been a gentleman haven’t I? That’s what you and the others have been telling me, at least.”

“Yeah, but I think this qualified you as a true gentleman.”

There’s no way that quote won’t cross your mind every time you see Suo from now on. Not until it’s erased from your memory, that is.

© enassbraid 2024. i do not permit plagiarism, translations, or reposts of my work on any platform

HIS MOM'S FAVOURITE! (≧◡≦)

Or in other words, Scaramouche resisting (and failing) the urge to fuck you while his mom is in the same house.

contains: f!afab!reader x bf!scara, pussyjob, blowjob, fingering, degradation, praise, bath sex, nipple play, cumshot, cigarette use, breeding

(* ^ ω ^) : minor writing smut !!

When you revealed your outfit to Scaramouche, like usual, he adored your sense of style. However, there was a little hiccup. "Baby, why'd you have to wear such a skimpy skirt tonight?" He pouts as he tugs at the hem, trying to lower it a bit more in hopes of covering some of your skin.

You give him a glance from over your shoulder and sigh, "It's your fault for telling me we were going to have dinner with your mom in twenty minutes. I was rushing and on top of that, I still had to do my makeup. Why don't you ever tell me these things beforehand?"

The two of you were waiting on the front porch, still recollecting yourselves as Scaramouche's mother took her time in getting the door.

Scaramouche merely narrows his eyes and smiles, "No need to get all whiny; you have plenty more dinners with her in the future to make up for tonight." At what was supposed to be a playful tease made you even more nervous. You smack him with your handbag, whisper-shouting, "Not funny!"

Finally, the door opened. Ei gasps with a smile and pinches Scaramouche's cheek, which results in him swatting her hand away. "It's so great to finally meet my son's girlfriend. I've heard a lot about you, (Name)."

You stifle a surprised noise when you feel Scaramouche's hand harshly groping at your ass. "Ah, it's nice to meet you too, Ms. Raiden," you coyly say, bowing your head. Ei exclaims, "Well, come in! The food will get cold." The second she disappears into the dining room, you give Scaramouche a reprimanding glare.

He simply gives you an innocent smile in return.

Scaramouche walks ahead of you, saying, "Mom, don't tell me you cooked..." Ei hushes his remark while setting out the plates and cutlery. You instantly rush over and offer to help out. Ei clasps her hands, muttering, "Oh, thank you, dear. If it's not too much trouble, could you get the glasses from the cupboard by the fridge?"

Already heading into the kitchen, you nod, "Of course!"

When you get there, you find your snarky boyfriend whistling to himself while leaning against the counter. Scaramouche pushes himself off of it and scoffs, "The way you act like a goody-two-shoes in front of my mom is insane. If only she knew how vulgar you are."

You roll your eyes and reach up to open the cupboard. While grabbing the glasses, it obviously didn't go unnoticed by you when Scaramouche's gaze lingered on your thighs. "As if your mind in the gutter is any better than mine," you say, walking up to him and pressing your chest against his.

Scaramouche's hands attempt to grab your waist but you pull away and laugh as you return to the dining room.

You thought wrong if the sexual tension were to get any better at the dinner table.

You tighten your smile a little more each time you feel his hands grabbing your thighs and playing with the plush skin. It wasn't long before you had to slap it away when he slipped his fingers in between your legs.

Ei places her fingertips together, asking, "Is the food good, dear? I tried to make it taste nice for my future daughter-in-law!" Her joke emits a not so hidden chuckle from Scaramouche and you glare at him. You play along and giggle, "Jokes aside, it does taste amazing, Ms-"

Ei tuts, "Please, call me mom. We can drop the honorifics as you seem to have proven yourself a nice and worthy girl of my son from his endless stories about you." You blush in pride from her comment.

"Ah, why don't you stay the night? It's getting dark out and I'm sure you and Scaramouche can stay in his old bedroom." Ei's suggestion catches you off guard. Scaramouche slyly adds, "Oh, yeah, why don't you, (Name)? I wouldn't want you to go home all alone at this time of day."

You nervously clear your throat and sigh through your nose. "Sure, I don't see why not."

The moment you and Scaramouche got off of Ei's radar, he initiated a heated makeout outside of his bedroom door. The guy must have waited for this all evening. You tightly grip onto his biceps, moaning into the kiss. He pulls away and starts sucking on your neck, making you gasp out.

"W-Wait, Kuni, we should go in your room first..." When you realized your words were doing no good to control the lust driven man, you opened the door to his room and dragged him inside anyways. You fell onto his bed when he got on top of you.

"God, you're such a fucking whore, y'know that? Acting all sweet in front of her, but she just doesn't understand how slutty you actually are." Scaramouche slides your panties down your legs, leaving your skirt on. He licks the damp spot in the fabric, causing you to whine from the lewd action.

You softly breathe out, "Please fuck me, Scara." Scaramouche tosses the undergarment aside and lowers his head to meet your cunt. He presses his calloused thumb against your clit. You throw your head back and moan, balling up the sheets in your fists.

"That food was fucking disgusting, right? Unlike you, I couldn't even eat a spoonful. I need something to get rid of my hunger, don't I?" Scaramouche licks up and down and between your folds, around your clit and finally, into your hole. You buck your hips forward and cry out, "Fuck, that's so good!"

Scaramouche's tongue repeatedly delves in and out, your walls spasming around the slippery pink muscle. He wraps his arms around your thighs to force them open since you keep on closing them from the intense pleasure. He lets out heavy pants and removes his tongue before wrapping his lips around your clit.

Two of his fingers fill the empty space inside of your needy pussy while you arch your back and let out the most lewdest noises. You instantly tense up when you hear knocking at the door.

"(Name), dear, can I come in? I brought you a towel and some old clothes of my son's so you can take a shower."

In a frenzy, you try getting Scaramouche to let you go, however his grip on you was way too strong. You stammer out, "I-I'm a bit occupied right now, can you just-" You stop to suppress a moan when your orgasm finally reaches you. You bite down on your lip, thighs shaking as Scaramouche licks up the remains of your cum.

"Can you just leave it in the bathroom, please?"

Ei curiously raises a brow but hums, "Alright. Do tell me if you have any trouble finding the bathroom itself, or you can just ask Scaramouche. Where did that boy go?..." The sound of her footsteps fade away and you sigh.

You sit up, knitting your brows together with a frown on your lips. "We could have gotten caught; just imagine if she didn't knock." You get off of the bed, on your way to the bathroom when suddenly, his arms wrap around your waist from behind you. "Hey now, it's not fair if you're the only one who gets fun, huh?"

You give him an eyeroll. "I'll deal with you later, just let me take a shower first. You made such a mess in between my legs." You turn around and kiss him, tasting your climax on his tongue. Scaramouche holds the side of your head and you grind your bare cunt against the rough material of his jeans when he highers his knee.

"C'mon, I'll shower with you." The idea he proposes makes your cunt clench. You huff, "Fine."

You suck on the head of his cock, tucking a few strands of your hair behind your ear while watching him with half-lidded eyes. Scaramouche grunts, "Don't be such a tease, f-fuck..." His voice trails off and the hot bath water the two of you are in doesn't help his condition.

The salty taste of pre-cum flooded your mouth as you figured from all of the teasing before this.

You close your eyes and finally take his entire length into your mouth, not without a few gagging noises. Scaramouche mutters, "That's it, you little slut. Take it all." His lips hung agape as he released soft groans, his hand clutching the side of the tub while his other hand nestled within your hair.

You let out muffled noises, bobbing your head up and down and running your tongue against every single vein of his cock. Your hands encase around his shaft for stability as you increase the pace. Scaramouche seethes through his clenched teeth, "Your throat is so tight, God, I'm gonna-"

He couldn't even finish his sentence, coming inside of your mouth with a long moan followed by profanities. You slowly pull yourself off of him and the rest of his semen splatters against your tits, now drenched with both water and thick, white substances.

You swallow his load and open your mouth with your tongue lolled out. Scaramouche pushes the back of your head to lean against him, pulling you into a kiss. You rub your pussy onto his toned thighs, whimpering and mewling against his lips. His hand grabs at one of your boobs, playing with the nipple and pinching it.

The water in the bath swishes with the movements and you feel his fingers prod at your entrance. He sinks three digits inside of you and you start gasping. "O-Oh, Scara... mmh, you're so needy tonight, ngh~" You start jerking off his cock that got hard again, easily slipping your hand up and down with the help of the water.

When you cum on his hand from him rapidly pumping his fingers inside you, you tightly squeeze his dick, letting him release his sperm onto the soft skin of your stomach. "You better be ready for tonight, I'm going to fuck you full... going to fuck your cute cunt and watch you squirt, yeah?"

"Then you better not disappoint."

But it's Scaramouche you're talking about. He never disappoints you in bed, ever.

He knew that you knew what you were in for, entering his room only wearing his shirt and your panties. Your tits poke through the flimsy fabric, the rest of your skin on display for him to see. "Well, aren't you going to fuck me instead of smoking those cigs all night?"

You join him on the bed and Scaramouche removes the blunt. He holds your chin and presses his lips against yours, letting the toxic air trap itself into your mouth. Scaramouche chuckles, "And you said I was needy." He places himself on top of you and you meekly spread your legs for him.

He tucks his bottom lip beneath his teeth and pulls down your panties, your strings of fluid sticking to the fabric. Scaramouche gulps, wanting to eat you out again but his cock needed you more. It's easy to plunge inside of you with one thrust and how wet you are for him.

You moan out as he starts rutting into you at a fast pace. Scaramouche groans, tightly holding your hips for leverage and fucking his cock in and out of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder.

You gasp and whine by his ear, emitting a moan from him. "Jus' love it when you make those adorable sounds, baby. F-Fuck, you like that?" Scaramouche chuckles when he feels you tighten around him. You nod, "U-Uh-huh, mngh! G-God, honey, more, please,"

Scaramouche mutters under his breath, "As you wish." He slides his cock in and out of you, making sure to leave you writhing and squirming in his hold. Your pussy releases the most vulgar noises, squelching and tightening each time his dick fucks into your womb.

The head repeatedly smashes into your cervix, causing tears of both pain and pleasure to spring to your eyes. "Oh, don't stop, Kuni! I'm so close!" You arch your back and push your clothed tits onto his bare chest, making sure to grind up against him. Scaramouche hisses in pleasure, feeling your hard nipples atop his.

You dig your nails into his back, your breaths and moans getting louder and faster. You squeal, "Oh, my God! Fuck, fuck, Kuni!" Scaramouche seals your cute noises with a messy kiss, drool seeping from his mouth and yours.

The slapping of his balls against your clit gets faster before he finally cums inside of you. You orgasm at the same time, letting out shaky sighs and mewls. Scaramouche moans, "Mmh, baby," He lays you onto the bed and continues to kiss you, all the while keeping his cock snug inside of your walls.

His cum pours from your cunt as he pulls out, but he's quick to scoop it up and finger it back inside you. You, who's still sensitive from the intense climax, clutch onto his wrist, whimpering, "K-Kuni, don't-" You're cut off with your own moan, his fingers curling inside of you.

"Gotta keep it in there, sweetheart. My mom's always telling me how her grandkids would look beautiful when you end up being my wife," Scaramouche playfully bites on your lower lip and you huff. "When? It's a promise now and you better keep it," you say, burying your hand in his hair.

Scaramouche chuckles and slides his hand up your shirt to fondle your breast while his other hand continues to pump his fingers in your soaked pussy. You quietly whine, resting your head on the pillows. He lays next to you while touching your body up, his gaze admiring your lewd expressions.

You gradually fall asleep to him fucking the energy out of you with his fingers still inside of your sopping cunt. When he notices you're unconscious, Scaramouche removes his hand from your chest and pulls up your shirt. He peppers kisses all over your plush skin before wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples.

He bites and sucks on the bud and finally takes his fingers out of you to fidget with your other nipple. You rub your thighs together in your sleep, gasping and putting one of your hands in his hair. You tightly grip a fistful of his cerulean locks, awakening from your short slumber.

With sleepy looking eyes, you release a soft moan. Scaramouche looks at you and his gaze is absolutely glazed over with a new-found lust. He releases his lips from your nipple with a string of saliva and licks on the areola around the mound. "Ready for the next round?"

Suddenly, Ei's voice calls from the room next to his.

"Scaramouche, I didn't raise you to be a horndog! Go take out the garbage!"