Latest Posts by victorias-fic-recs - Page 5

be not afraid of my body—

inumaki x reader

wc: 1.8k+

warnings: MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS: JJK 137+, angst, aged up, inumaki is the light of my life and it's obvious

No one will really speak of what has happened.

Despite all the questions leaving your lips, Panda only shuffles ahead, letting the hollow panic of your voice spread in the space between you. The cadence of his footsteps picks up so subtly, an untrained eye would have missed it, but you are searching for something, anything, to hold onto; the quickness of his pace is an answer in and of itself, one that hurries your feet, too.

You love him, don't you?

The question had stunned you so violently, body recoiling in shock at the implication of his tone—that, whatever has happened, is enough to ruin the deep rooted relationship between you and Toge. As if this horror could do anything but bring the two of you closer; lovers, trying desperately to hold onto one another in a world designed to tear them apart.

It dawns on you that you hadn't answered. Of course you loved him, more than anything, your stomach wouldn't be souring, hands wouldn't be trembling, eyes wouldn't be watering if that weren't the case. The most high nightmare has been vanquished: Toge is alive, despite the destruction that has fallen over Tokyo, over Shibuya, and that had been welcomed with enough relief that the first tears were of respite.

If not death, then what?

The last time Toge had left the country, a bouquet of lilies had been waiting on the desk in your room, corded together by a lavender ribbon, smelling like the fading spring afternoons that called you both outside during dinner. The days seemed so long then, the sun still peeping over the skyline late into the evening; "more time with you," he signed, skin crinkling near his eyes with the intensity of his smile.

And then summer came and the flowers wilted into droopy reminders of Inumaki's absence, though the space in your bed and the emptiness of your hand fought hard so you wouldn't forget, couldn't forget. Maki suggested pressing them into a book, but by then it had been too late and the only place they belonged was the garbage—it had seemed impossible to do. On the loneliest nights, even the shriveled sight of them reminded you of him, the night before he left, lulled you to sleep with the feeling of his chest against your back, nose under your ear, hand on your stomach.

When he was feeling particularly indulgent, he would whisper broken little things, words that would be impossible to hurt: beautiful, home, sweetheart,

love of my life.

Morning Glories, wrapped in cellophane and held together with a yellow bow: he waved them at you from across the hall, zipper pulled down so that you could see the smile stretching out the marks on his cheeks when he’d returned. Inumaki and his flowers, Okkotsu always said, as if a boy and his love were two separate things, as if his affections were some tangible thing that could be held in the palm of your hand.

At the sight of Yuuta’s face, it is then that you start to cry. Something strong, like panic and desperation all in one, rises within you to ask again what has happened to him. Something—someone—catches your eye; Itadori’s shoulders are shaking as he disappears into the school, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Fushiguro spares you one look (something soft, like empathy and repentance all in one) before following after him.

“He’s okay,” Yuuta’s words are comforting—it’s another confirmation that Toge is alive—but it’s not what you’re asking. “Do you want to see him?”

No one will really speak of what has happened, and it’s starting to drive you mad. Of course you love Toge, of course you want to see him, how could they even ask? For all the comfort they’ve given you, it has only driven up the anxiety surrounding your lover in droves. There is an inferno ready to set Yuuta alight at the question, but he leads you to Ieiri’s clinic after you offer him a stiff nod.

The woman in question is nowhere to be seen; whatever work she’s had to do on Toge is finished, that much is clear, and you can only assume she is back out into the streets, setting up infirmaries around the city to aid those who have been wounded. Outside the door, Okkotsu hesitates and the uncertainty in his eyes frazzles your remaining nerves.

“I love him,” It’s something you could shout from every rooftop, though it only comes out as a hiccuped whisper. “Whatever’s happened, I’ll always—”

“I know,” The bags under Yuuta’s eyes are dark, heavy, and he suddenly looks smaller than usual; Panda had seemed distraught, almost nervous. Toge is so loved by so many, and it (whatever it is) has already affected the students. “He’s just a little restless.”

All you are left with is an empty smile.

Perhaps you should take the time to gather your wits, to wipe the tears from your face. Perhaps you should take the time to script out a declaration of love, how earnestly you will prove to him that the two of you will get through this (whatever this is). Perhaps you should imagine him as he always has been, Inumaki and his flowers.

But you don’t; the door to the clinic is thrown back so fast, it slams, causing even you to flinch from the force.

And he’s smiling, this boy that you love. There is a smile stretching the marks on his cheeks, even though the sheet is down around his waist, even though his chest is exposed. Even though part of him is missing. Toge is smiling and he looks like he’s been waiting—minutes, hours, maybe even his whole life—for you.

Immediately his eyes roam your face, body, checking for any wounds that are damaging enough to be seen from across the room; only then does his smile falter. But when little more than bumps and bruises regard him, Toge raises a hand (his remaining hand, his only hand) out to you in a silent request for your own.

On any other occasion, you would fling yourself across the room and into his waiting arms, giggling, inhaling the botanic scent lingering in the strands of his hair. Instead of cellophane, it is paper talismans that will be rumpled beneath you when you finally lean into him. Instead of two arms to crush you to him, it will be only one.

It's with slow and tentative steps that you approach, stopping just out of reach as you sit beside him on the stiff cot. Toge's eyes are shining, a little red, and even though he's trying his hardest to appear pleased at your presence, something is undeniably shaking him.

Of course you love him.

Of course you want to see him.

"Were you worried about what I would think?"

Toge blinks once and the rigid roundness of his eyes melts away, exposing the tired, half-lidded gaze that burdens him. For all the pranks he pulls, all the laughs he's constantly causing, he never lies; everything about him slumps, withers away, as if it had taken a considerable amount of effort just to appear indifferent.

His weariness is an answer in and of itself, and so you decide to give him one to match, one that will explicitly express how you feel, in his own way: without words.

Finally you move within his reach and Toge perks up just the slightest bit, raising his hand once more for you. Instead of tangling your fingers with his, you touch the point of his palm, feeling the heat from his hand (which must have been a fist before you'd intruded). You slide around his wrist and up his arm, feeling his pulse in the tender skin near his elbow, before scooting closer, before placing your entire hand just under his collarbone.

Toge's eyes have relaxed again, though they shine with something different now, and he keeps them fixed on your face as you bring your own near his. The quiet sigh he lets out reaches your ears in more ways than one—audibly and as a puff of breath across your cheek—and he lifts his head, straightening his neck the way he always does when you're going to kiss him.

But you don't.

When you pull back, his eyebrows turn down and then up, ever curious, and then he shuffles back in the cot, sitting and squaring his shoulders when the shirt covering your torso is ripped up and over your head. It's not the first time he's ever laid eyes on the exposed skin of your chest, but somehow this feels more intimate, closer, than late night sex between sheets.

He's confused, though you can tell he's doing his best to be respectful and to not gawk at your body—that realization makes your shoulders shake with the effort to keep back a sudden sob; he's kind, so, so kind, this boy that you love.

One afternoon, not long after Toge had bought you flowers for the first time, Maki sat beside you in the field as Panda threw Kugisaki and Imumaki tried to catch her. It was unexpected, when she said, "you picked a good one" while watching them, but you knew exactly what she meant.

When he turned to smile at you, pulling the top of his jacket down just so he could stick his marked tongue out, you told her, "yeah, I'm really lucky".

"Okay?" Toge signs, and you nod, grabbing his raised hand to bring it to your inner elbow, to your pulse, to the space under your collarbone.

And then he finally looks: at your face, at the bruise under your eye from the collapsing building, at the purple wounds spanning your sternum, at the stitled way your chest heaves when you breathe.

It's not lust that drives him forward, but something deeper, and he wastes no time wrapping his arm carefully around your back to pull you closer. His palm is warm against you, fingers digging lightly into your skin as your own come up to cup his face.

You are picking Toge; now and always.

"It's gonna be okay." It's meant for both of you, the fragile whisper. "We're gonna figure it out."

If Yuuta can do anything about it, you've no idea; a sick, worried part of you believes he would have done it by now, if it were possible, but you've never quite grasped the intricacies of Okkotsu's reverse cursed technique. Either way, you mean the words you say to him; if Inumaki needs a second hand, then you will be it.

This boy that you love nods and has the nerve to smile again, just before leaning forward to kiss you. It's warm and his lips feel charged, as they always do, as if something other than sorcery and power is lurking within them—something kinder, something sweeter, some tangible thing that can be translated without words. After a minute, you realize he is drawing petals with his nails into your skin, little cartoon-y, oval shapes.

Inumaki and his flowers.

touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as i pass || walt whitman

— title; don’t leave me (stay)

— pairing; inumaki toge x reader

— summary; in which you and inumaki recover from the aftermath of the shibuya incident. 

— notes; inspired by the toge and yuta angst from @aliteama​ & @uwuwriting​

— manga spoilers for chapter 137

The strangest thing of all since you’ve reached Shibuya is the unexpected silence: no shouting, or sounds of combat. Instead, there’s fear of a different kind. From behind the white curtain of the makeshift infirmary, you stare out at the Cursed Corpses patrolling the grounds. You’ve been forbidden from entering the fray – your powers are much too valuable to be wasted, and so, you’ve been shunted into the infirmary with Ieiri.

Keep reading

“tuna with mayo.” inumaki says, his voice excited to be standing in front of you, and he knows you can’t see it, not behind his mask, but whenever he sees you, he can never hold himself back from smiling.

you blink, quite unsure of what to do with the words just said to you, and you try to keep confusion from arising in your face.

it’s been a really long day, and the last thing you need is this oddly white haired boy (with a very intimidating green haired girl by his side) to actually order fish with mayonnaise.

fish with mayonnaise in a café.

“sorry,” you smile, polite, “we don’t have that here.”

and you watch as the boy in front of you, face covered with a black mask and all, nod his head, the tips of his ears turning a dark hue of pink.

“that’s not what he meant.” the girl beside him tells you, the corners of her lips turning slightly upwards, and you feel much comfortable with her presence.

the two of them — they make an odd pair.

you tilt your head, “sorry?”

and inumaki shakes his head, his eyes intently following your every move, and he says, his voice shy, “shake.”

(now, you’re even more confused.)

“ignore him.” maki tells you, and her attention is all the way back to the menu above your head.

inumaki keeps his glance on you still, the tips of his ears along with the rest of his face stained with an unwashable color of pink, and his eyes perk up when he sees you finally look back at him again.

his voice is excited, “salmon!”

and you look at him, blinking, “this is a café.”

and his shoulders fall again, the smile reaching his eyes dimming, and you honestly feel like those weren’t the words you were supposed to reply with.

you feel like you’re being pranked right now, because what in the hell is going on?

maki nods finally, shrugging her shoulders, and she looks back at you, “he’ll just have what i’m having.”

and inumaki nods, silently by her side, “shake.”

“right,” you jot down their orders, still a bit loopy from the weird conversation, “i’m sorry, it’s just been a really busy day.”

and maki tells you, “no worries.” her voice stoic, but gentle enough to make you feel better.

her friend, inumaki (as she’s told you), has left her side now to get them a table, and a part of you’s relieved that his intense gaze is gone, but another still feels the guilt of having shot him down.

(not that you’d know, he said “shake” and you’re supposed to say what? “blender!”, you’re going to have a headache.)

“he comes here every chance he gets, you know.” maki’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“does he?” you smile, keeping polite conversation as you punch in her order, “this is my first week on register, so i don’t really notice a lot of the customers.”

and she nods, handing you a piece of tissue paper with the money to pay for the drinks.

“he’s weird.” she tells you, her shoulders rising.

you laugh, “i think he seems nice.”

“he is.” she nods, “but he’s still weird.”

you hand her her receipt, and she makes her way back to the table where inumaki signals for her return.

you catch his glance by a second, his eyes crinkling with a smile, the edges of his ears still a hot pink, and you think it’s fine when you send him back a small wave.

maki turns to you, “he thinks you’re cute.”

[2:22am] ;; inumaki toge

note: nothin man inumaki toge needs a hug send tweet. gn!reader on this one too ladies and gents. it's 4:05am now i'm gonna go.... sleep

He’s never up this late. Not when the world outside seems so quiet, as though even a breath from him could shake the trees until their leaves fall and scatter around him, swirling in circles until they land at his feet.

Inumaki is never one to let his breath stir in the night with such ease, to let the wind cast around him and whistle past his ears until it’s hardly all he can hear. Yet, when night came he couldn’t find himself drawn to sleep—not for anything bad, no, the nightmares stopped bothering him a few months ago. But rather, because he saw your silhouette passing by his window and out into the courtyard, and Inumaki Toge has always been a curious one.

You turn as he approaches, and even in this darkness, he can see the way you smile at him, your eyes flitting over him and brows pulled together in a certain kindness that he could never expect from someone, but one that he feels from you as though it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

“And I thought you weren’t one to stay up late,” You say, and your voice drips with fatigue at this hour, as though moonlight has crept its way into your throat and left you coated with its dust. You have your arms wrapped around yourself in this chill, your short sleeves not nearly enough to cover your skin from the breeze, so before he responds Inumaki shrugs off his own jacket and places it around your shoulders.

“Salmon salmon,” He says with a sigh, though his tone is awfully delightful for the way his eyes wish to close with every passing breath. He watches as you pull his jacket tighter around you, and he tries not to pay too much attention to the way you lean into him, as though you could share the warmth from the clothing purely through proximity alone.

From where you two stand, you can see the way the moon shines over the forest that surrounds the school. It reflects on puddles from the earlier rain showers, water still dripping from the leaves onto the soil, but he can hardly pay attention to the way night has spread across the forest, not when you’ve begun to lean your head onto his shoulder until your hair brushes against the newly-exposed skin of his neck and jaw.

These moments have grown much more frequent, as of late. As though you’ve only grown bolder with time, as if with each turn of the clock, you’ve only inched closer to him until there was no space left between either of you.

He doesn’t mind—not at all. Not when the sight of you in his jacket is enough to warm him even as the breeze fights against him. For the longest time, he thought you were never one for touch. He thought you would be the kind to only lay a hand on those who asked, but he supposes most people think he would be the kind to never wish to speak, too—he should really know better than to make assumptions like that.

Because now, in the glow of the moonlight underneath the ancient stars of this Earth, Inumaki Toge wishes for nothing more than to let words spill past his mouth as though he could afford to be careless. He wishes for nothing more than for his breath to creep past his lips and confess without consequence or fear.

And under this moonlight and beneath these ancient stars, you’ve trusted him with your touch, as you have for a few weeks now, and you’ve curled yourself around him and the warmth of his skin as though neither of you have known any different.

“You look pretty,” You say then, and it’s almost like you’ve managed to know no different here, either, because you know his thoughts that can never be vocalized, and now they’ve become your own. “Y’know, under the moonlight and all. Though I’d say all the other times, too.”

It takes him off guard, and he almost regrets giving you his jacket because now a blush has managed its way up his cheeks and he’s entirely on display for you to gaze at. And you do, god you do.

And then, as though it’s the most natural thing for him to do, Inumaki buries his face into the crook of your neck and whispers bonito flakes into your flesh, and then tuna, over and over again until the meaning behind the words can be felt since god he knows that they can’t always be heard.

No, he wishes to say, it’s you. It's you. Look at you. He wants to spill past his lips.

But he doesn’t need to. Never does with you, because you pull him away from your shoulder and smile at him, the moonlight reflecting off of your skin in the sweetest of ways, and smile.

“No,” You say, “It’s all you.” And then your lips are on his cheek, the kind of thing that only the sweetness of night could bring.

Mother May I Sleep with Danger - Servant!Nagito Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆ not a request, I’m just really horny for servant asjdkfkflddj

Summary: future foundation reader is kidnapped by the WOH and figures if they’re going to die anyway……..

Contains: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem reader, no pronouns used

Word Count: 3589

The foundation is not going to be happy with you.

Not only did you balls up your mission into Towa City, but now your uniform is ripped all to hell, basically slashed to ribbons by the Monokuma who managed to overpower you. It was your new set too, all fresh and clean. This mess is going to get you seriously mocked by the men in operations when you get back.

That is if the foundation even lets you back onto the helicopter after this disaster of a mission.

You huff and turn to face the man lurking in the far corner of your cell. He’s been standing there for the past 20 minutes, just shaking and staring at you with wide grey eyes. You had been planning to just ignore him until he left, but he isnt leaving, “What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer, just wraps his arms around himself and starts giggling.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” You snap, crossing your arms and glaring up at him from your seat on the floor, “If you’re going to kill me just get it over with, the anticipation has all but worn off and I'm just starting to get angry.”

“Ah...kill you?” He giggles again. His voice is a lot gentler than you had been expecting. What with the manic eyes and tangled hair. You were prepared for him to be downright menacing. He sucks in a breath and levels his gaze with you, “I wouldn't kill you. That would be waste.” The chain around his throat jangles as he gestures at you with his mitted hand, knees wobbling like they are barely strong enough to keep him upright, “Honestly, a bug like myself killing you would help no one. It would be utterly disappointing for both sides, and what is the point in that? No despair...no hope...ahhhhaaaa…” he brings the cuff of his jacket up to his mouth and starts gnawing on it, “it would be completely pointless...mm?”

“Why haven't the children killed you?” Your brows draw together, watching his balance shifting from foot to foot, “You must be at least eighteen, right?”

He wheezes, throwing one shoulder up in a haphazard shrug, “Older. I think. I honestly can’t remember.”

For some reason. A terrible little voice in the back of your head whispers - Hey, at least it’s legal! You balk at your own lack of decorum. The man is still currently chewing so furiously on his sleeve that drool has started rolling down his chin, his hair is so matted that if you dug your fingers into it you would probably never get them out again. You are smart enough to take one look at this wheezing, sweating, drooling mess of a man and think: gross.

Unfortunately, your cunt is dumb enough to disagree.

Maybe it’s because you’re going to die anyway. Maybe it’s because his black jeans cling very tightly to his thighs. Maybe you just have terrible taste in men. It doesn’t matter why, but for some godforsaken reason, you are attracted to him.

“So. Are they just keeping you around as a--” you examine him again, eyes locking on the chain dangling down by his knees. (why does looking at that make you want to rub your thighs together?) “--a...pet?”

He laughs again, finally letting the sleeve he was chewing on drop back down to his side, “A fitting position for someone like me, but no. I am their servant.” The man takes a step towards you, the chain jangles in ways that your insides apparently find arousing. You swallow, “I came to this town to seek refuge, but...well...you can see how that turned out.” he laughs again, shoulders quaking with the noise. You can help but notice the stiff way the hand obscured by his mitt is moving. Like he doesn't have any real control over it.

“Ah.” You say, eyes still focussed on the hand you cannot see, but can imagine perfectly well. That hand, along with his age, seem to only lead to one conclusion, “You’re one of the remnants of despair, aren’t you?”

He grins at you, manic, all sharp teeth and wild eyes, taking another step closer to you “Oh! I didn’t expect you to recognise common garbage like me…” he makes a noise that is dangerously close to being a moan, before exclaiming, “you’re right, I am!” His grin turns syrupy in a way that you find yourself enjoying much more than you should. His eyes hooded as he breathes, “does that disgust you? Does my very presence make you want to spit in my face?”

The way he speaks, his soft lilting tone. It almost sounds like he is crooning, purring. You shift on the floor, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. You have gone from wanting to fuck a regular crazy man, to wanting to fuck a crazy man literally out for capture by the company you work for.

“Listen.” You start, suddenly nervous, “The foundation is looking for you, all of you. But Togami in the other cell and I are working with-”

Your words catch in your throat when he comes barreling towards you and claps his bare hand over your mouth. His eyes are wild when they meet yours, pupils little more than pinpricks in dark swirling circles that dig deep inside of you, his voice drops to a terrifying whisper, “No. Not yet...I have important work I must do and you will not keep me from it.”

“We want to help.” You hiss into the meat of his palm. Horrified at how you feel the jagged grin that tugs at his mouth deep in your stomach. His mouth pulls so wide that his lips tear and bleed, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth and dripping over his lips when he starts laughing again, loud and manic, wheezing and decrepit.

“You truly are an embodiment of hope. You think you can...ah...haha…” He wheezes again, tangled white hair falling over his face and he tries to hold in a laugh, “You truly think you can help me? What a feat that would be! Endlessly impressive I’m sure” He leans in closer to you, eyes calm once again, hooded and piercing, “Thank you for your kindness, but I assure you. It will not be so simple.”

His face is so close to yours now, you can feel his breath on your face, see the bags under his eyes and the way his papery skin has wrinkled around the corners of his mouth. He looks half dead, but under that. You see soft skin, pretty long eyelashes and what are undoubtedly the most stunning eyes you have ever seen. You are going to die soon anyway, so you dont stop yourself from whispering, “You were very pretty once. Weren’t you?”

His lips curl into a smile, but his eyes look almost sad, “Most would disagree.”

“Hm. That’s a shame.” you whisper, trying to ignore the seductive tone you have adopted, “I think you’re still quite pretty now.”

He lets out a wheezing giggle, dropping down into a crouch in front of you and resting his hands on his knees, “Are you trying to win me over with words of kindness? With sharp lies wrapped in goose down?”

They aren't lies, but you can tell he won't believe you even if you try to convince him, “Just tell me what you want with me.”

“What do I want with you?” He breathes, reaching out a shaky hand and running his knuckles down your cheek. One side of his mouth quirks up in a smile at the feeling of your skin, “I don’t want anything...eheh...I just...I just want to watch. I want to see what you will do, I want to see you fight.”

“I’d be able to fight better if you let me out of the cell.”

“Aha. Cute.” He drags his tongue over his lower lip, “But wouldn't it be so much more satisfying to watch you overcome impossible odds? For your hope to overcome the utmost despair?” His head tilts to the side and he smiles, “I have faith in you. I’ll be cheering you on, just dont expect my help.”

The more he talks, the less you understand him. At this point you're barely even listening to his words and are just letting the soft tones of his voice wash over you, his eyes are blinding, it feels like he is staring straight through you. The door of the cell is still locked, Togami is still far enough away that he couldn't hear you if you screamed. Help won't be coming for a long time if it is even coming at all.

And you want to fuck a remnant of despair.

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” you whisper, reaching out a hand to push some of his tangled hair away from his face.

He stills, for a moment. The panic in his eyes is so powerful that even his ceaseless shivering stops. He blinks slowly, unsurely, and his lips pull up in a smile, “My pathetic name isn't even worthy of being heard by someone like you.” he breathes, leaning into your hand as it comes to rest on his cheek, “Servant will suffice.”

You make an upset noise, sitting up on your knees and leaning in closer to his face. His eyes aren’t grey, you realise, they’re green, “Are you sure? I was hoping for something a little more...intimate.”

“Intimate…” he whispers, almost like he is testing how the word tastes on his tongue. His face is so close to yours now, your hand reaches around and curls into the mess of hair on the back of his head. He starts shivering again, a wheezy laugh escaping his mouth almost breathlessly as he (with a surprising amount of tenderness) lowers you down to lay on the hard concrete below, “Is...this what you mean?”

Your heart is racing. He looms above you, knees planted firmly on either side of your hips. His hair tumbles down over his face, obscuring his beautiful green eyes in shadow and you feel your hips twitch upward at even the anticipation of his touch.

“Exactly what I mean.” you purr, slowly sliding your hand down the length of his chain. He quivers above you, a broken moan leaves his mouth when you give it a gentle tug. Your lips curl into a predatory smirk, and then you tug it again, hard.

His mouth collides with yours and a shocked gasp escapes his throat, his arms shake at your sides, desperate and almost panicked. It only takes a moment for him to soften, returning the kiss with a newfound passion, moaning deep and loud into your mouth and leaning into you. His kisses feel a little messy and unpracticed, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm. Choking on a groan when you bury a hand in his hair and pull tight on the strands.

He moves away from your mouth, trailing down the side of your throat and sucking hard on your skin. You can feel his breath hot and heavy in your ear as his tongue lathes over your flesh, teeth sinking in hard into the join between your throat and shoulder.

A moan breaks free from your mouth, and your hips buck upward high enough to meet Servant’s and you can feel his gasp against your skin. He grinds his hips down on yours in response, sucking in a breath at the friction.

“This…this really is my lucky day…” he whines, leaning back on his heels and undoing the few surviving buttons on your shirt. Your bra is conservative, skin toned and unflattering. It’s designed for missions out into the wastes of the world, not for whatever is happening right now.

Servant doesn’t seem to mind, running his tongue across his chapped lower lip, eyes blown wide as he drinks in your form. A shudder runs through him, and he swallows, “may I?”

You nod, “please…touch me…”

He giggles, gripping your breasts in both of his hands (though the hand hidden by the mitt is only really able to press down, but he is trying his best.) before burying his face between them, sighing happily against your skin. You choke on a moan when you feel his tongue run up your cleavage, hands squeezing almost desperately.

“Servant…” you whisper, “my bra, take it off…”

He leans up, a shy smile on his face, “Ah, I would like to! But uh, as I’m sure you know-“ he waves at you with his mitted hand, “-I can’t really use these fingers”

The thought of the dead hand attached at his forearm should deter you, but it doesn’t. You sit up just enough to unclasp your bra, chucking it off into the corner of the cell before grabbing Servant’s bare hand and pressing it to your breast. Servant chokes, brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Your breath hitches, and he is emboldened enough to take the other into his mouth. Your back instinctively arches upward, chasing the warmth of his mouth encasing your nipple, the finger and thumb on his bare hand pinching at twitching the other. His tongue is wet and sloppy, this is no precision to his licks and sucks. The servant is running on animalistic desperation alone.

Luckily, that doesn’t bother you much at all.

The cool metal of the chain presses down hard on your bare stomach, his mitt is scratchy where that hand is pressed firmly to your waist, not able to grab, but it still reads as possessive. You can feel him panting and moaning against your breast, his tangled white hair brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver. Your sex is aching, the way he furiously circles his tongue around your nipple feels almost feral and it makes you want more.

You hook your leg around the back of his knees, and use the leverage to flip the both of you over. Servant gasps when his back hits the ground. You grin, physical training at the Future Foundation is finally coming in handy.

Servant looks like a perfect ruin beneath you. His hair spread out on the hard concrete, eyes glassy with desire, cheeks bright red and mouth wet with saliva. You laugh, you can feel him quivering below you. The quivering grows worse when you tug his black jacket down off his shoulders and start working his shirt up and over his head. He is so thin, sickly, shaking, barely even there. All jutting bones and paper thin skin.

“Are they feeding you?” you find yourself asking quite seriously.

Servant giggles, “They’re children. I feed myself when I find the time.”

“You don't often find the time, do you?” he sucks in a breath when the tip of your finger runs up over his exposed ribs. You lean down and press a hot kiss to his collarbone, “Are you sure that you’ll have enough energy for this?”

“Ehehe...Don’t concern yourself with that-“ he leans up enough to lick all the way up the length of your throat, “I can be quite tenacious when required”

You don't doubt it. Leaning back down to kiss him firmly, licking into his open mouth as your hands trail down his torso and to the button on his jeans. He whines loudly when you undo the zipper and wrap your fist around the hardness in his boxers. His hips stutter up into your grip and you smile against his lips. He’s cute. It’s cute how desperate he is. You sit up, grinding your hips down against his, moaning aloud at the feeling of his cock pressing firmly against your clit through your panties.

Servant breaks out into a breathless giggle, panting and moaning as he pushes his hips up to meet yours, shivery and insatiable. The only light in the room is a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, just bright enough to catch on his teeth when his chapped lips curl back in a grin.

“Yes~” He whines when you grind down again, pretty eyes fluttering closed and white hair spreading even further across the concrete, “use me use me use me!”

You like that. You like that a lot, “You want to be used?” you breathe, sitting up just enough that you can wriggle out of your panties, hiking your tight pencil skirt up over your hips.

“Please...please…” he whimpers, hips stuttering up even though there is nothing to meet them. Drool trailing down his chin, “I want you to use me for your pleasure…” he gasps out a moan, like even the thought of it is too much for him, “...cum all over me...please...ruin me…”

“Okay…” you whisper, pulling his boxers and jeans down his thighs to expose his cock, he hisses a breath in through his teeth that turns into a moan when you grab him, “Can you be a good boy and stay still for me?”

He nods furiously. Thighs and stomach tensing as he forces himself not to move. It becomes even harder when you slowly slip yourself down on him, letting your head loll back in a moan at the feeling of him filling you. He cries out, hands jumping up to grab at your waist, trying so hard to keep his hips still when all he wants is to chase your warmth.

A smile crawls its way across your face when you lean forward, placing your arms on either side of his head. He stares up at you, enamoured with you, face flushed red and mouth hung open, “You feel so good, Servant.” you croon, slowly licking up the shell of his ear.

He mewls, thrusting up inside of you just a little. He just can't resist.

“I’m...I’m sorry, I'm so pathetic ehehe” he pants, “Can’t even follow such a simple order.”

“Well, hopefully you will do better with this next one.” You start, adjusting yourself so your bare breasts are now right in front of his face, “suck.”

He doesn't waste one second, licking up under one of your nipples and then pulling it into his mouth. Peering up at you through his pretty eyelashes as he sucks languidly on your tit, swirling his tongue around and moaning so deeply that you can feel the vibrations.

“Ahh…ah! You’re such a pretty boy, aren’t you?”

He nods

“Such a good boy.”

He nods again, moving his hands from your waists to your breasts, pressing them close enough together that he is able to suck on both nipples at once.

“Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh fuck- I…hng…” you rock your hips forward, keening loudly when the head of his cock meets your g-spot. Servant is still trying to stay still. Panting loudly as he furiously licks and sucks on both of your nipples. Wet and sloppy with little to no precision, so desperate to taste you, to devour you. The pleasure in your stomach is curling and twisting, the feeling of him so deep inside you, quivering as he resists the urge to move. It’s so much and not enough all at once.

“Servant…” you groan, hips twitching forward enough to grind your clit down on his pelvis, “you…you can move…”

His hips snap up immediately. He doesn’t waste even a second to drill himself deep inside of you, almost sobbing against the flesh of your breasts when the desperation he has been holding in finally gets to escape. He is animalistic, he is hungry. His hands move from your breasts to grip tightly to your hips, encouraging you to bounce up and down on his cock.

Luckily you don’t need much encouragement. Sitting up enough that your breasts leave his mouth with a lurid pop, throwing your head back and riding him like your life depends on it. Underneath you, you can hear the sound of his chain jangling with the force of his upward thrusts, along with his staccato breathing as he loses himself deeper and deeper within you.

Sweat drips down your forehead, down between your shoulder blades, it feels so good, it feels so wrong. The ever present itch of his mitt presses against your skin, a grim reminder of everything he is, everything he has done. It only turns you on more.

“I…I…AHAHAH! I’m…close.” He stammers, eyes wide when they fixate on the spot where you are joined, sharing himself disappearing inside of you again and again. His bare hand slides down your side and around to your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles that make your hips jump forward.

It’s too much, you can feel your insides growing tighter and tighter as his fingers bring you closer to the release you need so badly. Tossing your head back with a strangled moan as you finally cum, clenching hard around his cock and almost sobbing with how good it feels, how good he feels.

As Servant chases your release with his own, breaking into a breathless laughed as he pounds you with reckless abandon, cumming deep inside of you-

You can’t help but think that the foundation is really not going to be happy with you now.

But as Servant comes down from his high, his grip softens, his eyes grow sleepy, and he gives you a gentle smile that makes you heart race just a little-

And you realise that you don’t really care anymore.

being you -

warnings | none. not spell checked

category | fluff, friends to lovers

wc | 2.3k+

pairing | megumi fushiguro & reader

synopsis |  “i associate happiness with the color of your eyes.” you look at him in surprise, and when you see a hint of a smile on his lips, your breath is taken away from your lungs.

what megumi likes about you: you. your name. your smile. your eyes.

megumi watches as gojo approaches with someone in the same jujutsu tech uniform, and he raises an eyebrow at the surprise visitor. of course, he didn’t mention anything beforehand about someone new.

“hey! crazy hair, this is the new first-year!” gojo lightly pushes you forward, but lightly still has a lot of power, and you let out a noise of surprise and stumble over your steps into something that feels hard, but soft, and a force on your shoulders holding you in place.

megumi glares at gojo standing in front of him for the use of the nickname ‘crazy hair’, said man with a shit-eating grin on his face causing him to roll his eyes, before looking down at the person in his arms. his large hands are situated firmly on your shoulders, stopping you from completely colliding into him and taking the both of you down to the ground.

he sighs, taking a step back to give you some needed space. “are you okay?” his voice is gruff, and it comes out a little less friendly than he meant it to, but you still look up at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes.

and when you do, your mouth parts in surprise, a breath flowing through the open gap just because as soon as you lay your eyes on him you think — wow. he’s beautiful.

and you let yourself stare for as long as your heart wants because if you take your eyes off of him for a moment, you think the world might end because you won’t see this new person’s face again.

but unfortunately, you realize that you have been openly gawking at him when the boy lets out an awkward cough, shifting his weight on each foot as he avoids your strong gaze, and you fight a wince when you hear the teacher laughing at the interaction in the background.

megumi doesn’t know why you are staring at him when you both just met. maybe it’s his unruly hair — that always makes a strong first impression on other people. or maybe it’s his facial expression — he doesn’t really know what type of face he is making right now, just the fact that his face feels hot, and he knows he is definitely blushing like an idiot because of how intently you’re staring at him.

he lets out a breath of air, glancing back at you. “um... everything okay?”

you blink. and then blink again. cursing under your breath, you immediately move away from him, and he lets his arms fall back to his sides.

“yes! yes. i’m fine, great! perfect…” you rub the back of your neck, focusing your gaze on what’s behind the boy instead. “sorry about that. thanks for making sure i didn’t fall.”

if megumi wasn’t so confused, he would probably laugh at how flustered you’re acting. “no problem.” he’s about to say something else when he’s interrupted by a familiar obnoxious voice and someone clapping their hands together annoyingly loud.

“well then! if you guys are done being awkward teenagers, let’s go get some food to welcome the new student.” gojo stretches his hands to the sky, doing who knows what. “i’m starving!” he sings out, turning around dramatically and walking away, completely ignoring the other two left behind him.

you chuckle, watching as the dark-haired boy turns up at your side, hands stuffed in his pockets. you glance up at him, silently admiring his beautiful side profile. gosh, everything about him is so…

“sorry about him. gojo-sensei can be quite a handful sometimes.” the boy begins, meeting your eyes.

“ah. it’s okay.” you begin following the teacher so you don’t get lost, him following right beside you. “he doesn’t seem that bad.”

he scoffs, a frown falling on his face. “you’d be surprised. but he is okay…” he shrugs, “sometimes.”

“i’m looking forward to seeing more.” you smile at him, and you miss the way the tips of his ears turn pink. “what’s your name?”

“fushiguro megumi. yours?”

you think his name is fitting for someone as beautiful as him.

you tell him your name, and megumi repeats it softly in his mouth, trying the feel of it. megumi decides that as bad as first interactions could go, this one wasn’t so bad.

megumi likes your name.

he turns his face fully to you. “i think your name is cool.”

you honestly didn’t think so, but the compliment coming from him, makes you believe it, even just for the time being. “thank you.”

“what’s your favorite color?”

megumi doesn’t know why you’re asking him what his favorite color is, and he thinks that it’s a pretty out of the blue question to ask. but compared to the other questions you usually ask, this one isn’t the strangest. you guys have been friends for a while now, since the day gojo introduced the both of you and up to today as you guys are always on missions together. he likes it. he likes you.

“i don’t really have one.”

“really?”

you guys are walking back from a mission just completed — thankfully no injuries, the sky a dark shade of blue, the sun already set. you’re both on the sidewalk, you on the inside, him on the outside.

he glances at you from the corner of his eye, noting the confusion on your face. “really.”

“hmm.” you have a small pep in your step, even despite just exercising curses. “yellow?”

“too bright.”

“orange?”

“too obnoxious.”

“white?”

“no.”

you laugh. “then what color do you associate happiness with?”

huh? now megumi is actually taken back. associating happiness with a color? simple, he doesn’t do that. he associates death with black, blood with red, and the specific shade of gojo’s eyes with ‘he should get away immediately’. but not really happiness with anything. maybe not a color. “nothing.”

you look at him. “interesting...”

you suddenly stop, turning to face him and he raises an eyebrow at your actions but does the same. “what’s interesting about it?”

“i’d say my favorite color is dark blue,” you say, disregarding his question.

he tilts his head. “why dark blue?”

“because of your eyes.”

oh. megumi doesn’t even know how to react to the sentence you said too easily for it to mean anymore, but his face immediately goes hot, and he silently thanks everything that it’s too dark for you to see him flustered.

he’s about to say something back, but then you continue. “your eyes are beautiful, fushiguro. i thought you should know.”

and his brain goes haywire. his face gets even hotter, and he doesn’t even know what to do anymore but he looks away from you, attempting to cover his face to hide his raging blush. and to make things even worse, when he glances back at you, you’re smiling — smiling like an idiot with your eyes as crescents, cheeks puffed up, and megumi thinks he feels his stomach do a somersault. he shouldn’t be reacting like this, but you’re doing everything that forces him to, and he doesn’t even know what it means.

you stretch your arms over your head, letting out a yawn as you hear a few muscles you don’t think you should hear pop. “agh. let’s get back, i desperately need to sleep.”

megumi watches you continue walking again, completely leaving him in the dust like you didn’t just say all those words. he stands there like an idiot thinking about how amazing your smile was to see at the end of his day before catching up and falling into step next to you.

megumi likes your smile.

the night that megumi returns to the school all battered and bruised, you swear that your heart drops in your chest at the broken sight.

you had done everything; lead him to your room since he insisted he was fine and that he didn’t want to wake shoko up, scolded him for letting himself get so beat up for the millionth time, and sat him on your bed and forced him to stay there despite his protests as you gathered your medical supplies.

and then here you were, standing between his legs and dabbing a cotton ball dipped in alcohol across his deep wounds, frowning every time he lets out a low hiss at the pain.

“ow.”

“sorryyy.” you pull away, looking down at the dark-haired boy. “megumi…you have to stop getting hurt like this.” you feel your resolve falter, a tear gathering in your eye, but you stop yourself from crying, so you can stay strong. for him. “please…”

when the last word falls from your lips, he looks up at your face, immediately taking note of the single trail of liquid streaming down your cheek that you don’t seem to notice. absentmindedly, he reaches up for your face and wipes the tear with a swipe of his calloused thumb, letting his hand linger for a little longer than necessary on your skin before pulling away.

“i can’t promise that.” you frown, but he continues. “but i can promise that i’ll try to always come back.” his heart hurts. why does he, barely an actual adult, have to say those words? why couldn’t he just promise that he will buy that new video game like a regular teenager? why?

but as if you could read his thoughts, you place your hands on his face, cupping his cheeks, and he’s almost embarrassed at how he immediately leans into your touch, letting you take him over wholly.

“it’s okay.” you caress his face with your thumb, smoother than his, and he can feel his eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion finally weighs in. “it’s okay…” you whisper. “as long as you come back.”

your voice is almost broken, and megumi feels his heart threatening to break at the sad sound. his mind is in scrambles, and he tries to think of something — anything that could possibly take the sorrowful expression off your face.

“would…” he clears his throat, looking up at you. “would you like to watch that movie you were talking about earlier together? once we’re all done here?” a light pink blush adjourns his scarred cheeks.

he watches your expression carefully, and he feels himself let out a breath of air that he didn’t even know he was holding in when your eyes light up.

“really!? the zombie one?”

“the zombie one.”

“ah! yes! of course, i didn’t think you were going to agree, megumi!” you smile brightly at him, and only when you do this megumi finally notices exactly how close the two of you are; you are in between his legs, your face just so close to his, and his breath hitches in his throat as his eyes land on your eyes.

you’re still babbling about how good the movie is going to be, your hands still cupping his face, your thumb mindlessly caressing his skin, and your eyes… your eyes are beautiful.

you always talk about ‘how amazing his eyes are’, ‘how full of life they are’. and then you talk about how much you don’t like your own, and how they are so bland, but if he has anything to say about it, your eyes definitely trump his.

your eyes are filled with happiness, and only because he had said he would watch a movie with you. he thinks he could get lost in them, and that he never, ever wants to look away now.

suddenly, your question from a few weeks back pops back into his mind. ‘what color do you associate with happiness?”

“your eyes.”

you pause in the middle of your sentence, attempting to take your hands off his face only for him to grab them and place them back, causing your face to grow a little hot. you tilt your head to the side in a questioning manner, raising an eyebrow. “huh?”

“i associate happiness with the color of your eyes.” you look at him in surprise, and when you see a hint of a smile on his lips, your breath is taken away from your lungs.

what megumi likes about you:

you.

your name.

your smile.

your eyes.

the sun is setting, and the breeze messes up megumi’s already unruly hair, blowing the fabric of your uniform. you guys are walking down the path by the water, side by side, his steps a little wider than yours.

“i have a question.” megumi’s voice rings into the air, disrupting the peaceful silence. he halts his steps, turning to look at you and you do the same, tilting your head at him.

that’s odd. you’re usually the one to ask random questions from out of nowhere. “okay.” you smile softly, “what is it?”

megumi curses himself for getting distracted by your smile, focusing his gaze at something behind you and tugging on his collar. “i - um...”

you giggle, stepping to the side into his line of vision and waving your hand in front of his face. “any day now.”

“you’re always asking me about all these different things, so i wanted to ask you one thing in return.” he starts, blue eyes finally landing on yours.

he feels his face getting hotter, and he knows he can’t say this to your face without chickening out, so instead on a whim, he places his large hands on your shoulders, causing you to raise an eyebrow in question but then he pulls you to his body, wrapping his strong arms around you. your eyes widen, and you feel like your heart is melting when you realize that his face is buried in your neck, his soft dark hair tickling your skin.

“thank you…” he mumbles, and he’s thankful that his face is hidden from your view, or everything would be ten times more embarrassing.

you blink, your nose picking up his sweet scent, and you feel yourself snuggle into his arms even more. “for what?”

he sighs, deciding to take the risk and kiss the skin of your neck, letting himself bask in your touch before answering. “for being you.”

what megumi likes about you:

everything.

My dear friend @luxielle asked me (months ago) to write about the scene between fleeing Magenta and arriving at the cabin, and—at last—here it is!

even the oceans come back to the sand

GE Saeran X Reader | Words: 2002

In the beginning, you run.

It feels strange to move fast after sitting still for so many days; your leg muscles scream as the freshly-tilled dirt of the garden turns into hard, sun-warmed pavement. There is nothing here but ground and sky, and your breath comes hard and fast as you follow the empty road around a bend and over the crest of a hill.

As you climb, you think dizzily of your arrival (ten days ago; forever ago). It is strange to finally see the road that brought you here, when you were blindfolded and silent as the grave. You want to say something about it, but you don’t have the breath.

Even if you did, you aren’t sure what you would say.

You squint into the setting sun so you can see his face: he stares straight ahead, his brilliant eyes fixed on the horizon. You wonder how long it’s been since the last time he left this place. You wonder if he’s ever left at all.

The road curves sharply ahead, and you follow just a pace behind him. His cheeks are flushed, and you worry (for a moment) that he doesn’t have the stamina to keep this up—but he doesn’t waver.

His determination, you think, shines brighter than the sun in your eyes.

You clench your sweaty hands and try for one last burst of energy. He glances over his shoulder and then reaches for your hand.

“Saeran?” Your voice comes out like a breathless squeak; gently, he steers you off the road and into a clump of tall trees.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, slowing his pace to a brisk walk. “Trust me.”

Keep reading

“Oh my god,” you mumbled under your breath. “It smells like sage in here.”

You sat on one of his couches after roaming about, his office way more imposing than you originally thought. The space exuded an untouchable power and prestige, one Jumin held about him effortlessly.

You fixed the edges of your dress and cleared your throat, unsure of how to sit. Legs crossed? Princess-style?

“Relax,” Jumin spoke, two magnificent pieces of china in his hands. “It’s only you and I.”

Exactly. You’re terrifyingly beautiful.

“Besides,” Jumin exhaled, setting the china on a coaster next to you. “My next meeting is in fifteen minutes and nobody will disturb us until then.”

“That’s great,” you smiled grimly, determined not to look him directly in the eye.

“Then,” Jumin nodded, crossing his legs. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

You blinked rapidly. “A, uh... a party guest. You recommended we invite a... bowl of udon soup?”

“Mm?” Jumin raised a brow matter-of-factly. “What about him?”

“... How do I go about... inviting a... a bowl of soup?”

“Simple.” Jumin sipped his tea. “Send an invitation, explain what our party is about -”

“To a bowl of soup?” You asked incredulously. “It doesn’t have any thumbs, or a voice.”

“But it does have a form of correspondence,” Jumin chuckled. “Don’t worry. Just do what you’ve been doing. Your efforts so far have granted the RFA at least ten plus guests in attendance, so be proud of what you’re doing.”

You bowed your head and blushed madly. “Thank you, Mr. Han -”

“Forgive me for interrupting but Jumin will suffice. Call me Jumin.”

“Jumin,” you smiled. “Thank you for your help. I know...” you fiddled with your dress again. “... I know this may be a little out of line, but you’re the one I’ve spoken to the least. How... how are things with you? How is work, how is life?”

Jumin’s brows creased. “I don’t think we will be able to cover all of that in a span of...” he checked his watch. “... thirteen minutes. It isn’t that I don’t want to talk to you, but again. My meeting is fast approaching and I’d like to give more of my time to you. I’ll feel rushed otherwise.”

You grinned sheepishly. How noble of him. “Then, would you mind it if I called you later?”

“Allow me to call you. I don’t mean to compare our schedules, but undoubtedly, mine is more crammed than yours is.”

You gave him a flat look. “You’re saying I’m not nearly as busy as you?”

Jumin rested his intertwined fingers in his lap. “Take it as you will.”

You smiled. “How are you going to go from complimenting me to insulting me in a span of a couple of minutes?”

“Forgive me,” Jumin grinned, resting a hand on his chest and bowing his head.

Even when he apologized, he continued to feel bigger than you. You smiled and shook your head. “I won’t keep you, M... Jumin. If I have any more questions, I’ll text you.”

“Text me or Assistant Kang,” Jumin spoke. “She may be able to answer you faster.”

“Right, cuz of how busy you are,” you smirked. “Take care of yourself, Jumin.”

“And you, MC.”

“Thank you. Love you.”

You froze. No you did not just say that.

“... Pardon me?” Jumin asked in an amused tone.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, your feet still stuck in place. Move. Move!! For the love of God, move!!

Jumin stood. “No, I could have sworn you said -”

“I-I-I didn’t s-s-s-s-say anything, b-b-bye!!” You hollered, your feet finally darting towards the doors and leaving them wide open in your desperate escape.

“MC?” Jaehee called out.

Tripping over your feet, you stumbled your way to the elevator and hid behind the group of businessmen and women. You were never going to show your face in that building, or to Jumin, ever again. You could avoid him, you were good at doing stuff like that!

Your phone buzzed in your hand. With an agitated jerk, you checked it.

From: Jumin Han

I’ll call you tonight. Also. Please go about keeping our relationship on a purely professional basis. Thank you.

Yup. Forget correcting the misunderstanding. As far as you knew, Jumin no longer existed.

request: megumi and yuuji with a really touchy touchy affectionate s/o but gets easily flustered if you reciprocate their actions please 🥺 — megumi ver!

pairings: fushiguro megumi x touchy! reader

notes: just pure fluff~ i really loved this concept, thank you for the request!

masterlist ! requests are open

[3:10 PM] you hate movie nights with megumi.

why, you may ask? it’s because megumi’s couch is too spacious for the both of you, and your boyfriend is so dense that he doesn’t interpret your frown when he gives you separate blankets. you even have your own bowls of popcorn, all because megumi has had enough of you eating his precious popcorn before the movie even begins.

he acts like he’s annoyed, but the fact that your bowl is bigger than his says otherwise.

nevertheless, you’re annoyed. megumi sits an arm’s length away from you, happily cuddled to the pillows on his side with his toes almost jabbing your side. he’s so invested to the movie – one that you chose but can’t be bothered to watch now – that he doesn’t notice how you endlessly huff with your arms crossed on your chest.

Keep reading

request: megumi and yuuji with a really touchy touchy affectionate s/o but gets easily flustered if you reciprocate their actions please 🥺 — yuuji ver!

pairings: itadori yuuji x touchy! reader

notes: just pure fluff~ i really loved this concept, thank you for the request!

masterlist ! requests are open 

[2:46 PM] it’s hard to get your hands off yuuji.

you can’t explain where this sudden need to touch him came from. you haven’t always been this way, but the moment you and yuuji began dating, there’s almost never a time where your skin is not on his.

Keep reading

hehe so~

saeyoung's reaction to his MC having a (rather intense) hand kink~? 👀

^^ ♡

[417]

Heheheheheh a rather intense hand kink. I love that.

SO. As we know, our boy doesn’t love his body. He doesn’t really like to look at himself in the mirror—he certainly doesn’t see the beautiful, adorable, alluring person that we see when we look at him. He can’t understand how it is that we see him that way.

But if there is one thing about himself he likes, it is his hands.

In his line of work, his hands are everything. They are quick and agile, nimble and clever. He has created entire languages—unravelled world leaders—with a stroke of his fingers. He is in control when he works with his hands: he can build things that feel concrete and real—robots that move and speak and seem almost alive!—he can take nothing and turn it into something. He’s proud of this; it makes him feel like he has worth, after all.

And he knows, too, that his hands are objectively attractive. He has long, slender fingers—and even though he doesn’t always take great care of himself, he actually knows how to keep his hands in good shape. He stretches them. He knows that without them, he is nothing.

So if he figures out that his hands are a turn-on for you? Ohhhhh, he has a new weapon at his disposal, and he is delighted.

You’re trying to get some work done and he’s in need of attention? Boom: a hand across your keyboard. He’ll wiggle his fingers in your face and when you laugh and tell him that while that’s lovely, it’s not necessarily alluring, he’ll run the tip of his index finger over your jaw till you shudder and forget whatever you were working on entirely.

You’re in public? He wants to hold your hand all the time. But he won’t just hold it normally—not Saeyoung. He’s running his calloused fingertips over your knuckles; he’s rubbing a circle over the pulse point on your wrist with his thumb; he’s slipping his hand out of yours and hooking just your pinkies together (and sneaking a peek at you, grinning, because he loves that his fingers can drive you mad).

When he’s driving? I mean—listen. There’s just something very sexy about him driving a car. He’s good at it, and he knows it; he’s confident; he’s energetic and focused and full of life. The sun strikes his hands on the wheel at just the right angle and you can’t help but stare. He knows you’re looking. His expression is cocky as he maneuvers the car around a bend in the road and takes one hand off the wheel to drape it lazily over your thigh. 

“You should pay attention,” you tell him—but he grins and says nothing. Take his hand in yours. Separate his fingers, one by one. Play with his fingertips. Run your hands over the long-healed scars on his palms; wrap your two hands around his larger one and hold it tight.

He wants your attention. He wants your eyes on him. He wants to know you’re thinking about him, dreaming about him—he wants his warm hand in yours. He finds everything about you captivating; if there is anything he can do to grab your attention and hold it—for as long as possible—he will do it.

You’re gonna have his hands on you all the time: a hand in your coat pocket; a hand on your waist; a hand wrapped around your arm. And fingers drifting enticingly closer—fingers tangling with yours—fingers in your hair, on your shoulders, your cheeks.

He just wants you to look at him. Kiss his pretty fingertips (he wishes you would).

You already know 😌✨ Oikawa x reader - “Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.”

a/n: you just know you’d constantly have fun with this man. i love him your honor

warning: suggestive!

[ 01:12 AM ]

the door cracked loudly against the wall of the hotel, and you let out a startled chuckle against oikawa's lips as you were backed unceremoniously through the threshold. "shh, shh, we don't want anyone to file any complaints."

oikawa grinned, leaning in and capturing your lips in another searing kiss, fingers clasped tightly on your hips beneath your shirt. "if we don't get at least three noise complaints, i'm not working hard enough."

you laughed again, love-drunk and relishing the light, fizzing feeling in your chest, and you kicked off your shoes – or tried to kick off your shoes – instead, tripping on your own feet and taking the giggling man down to the ground with you in a tangled heap. "tooru!" you gasped, laughing breathlessly, feeling his entire body shake above you with silent laughter. you pecked his neck lightly. "toor – help me up, you big oaf."

"mean," he said, still wheezing, maneuvering his head to steal another kiss before you could press your lips back against his throat. "can't we just stay here?" he whispered against your mouth. "i've been waiting all night."

"no! up, up," you said, pushing him away with flat palms. he smiled and pulled himself upright, dragging you up by the hand, but nearly lost his balance again when you immediately launched yourself at him, wrapping your thighs tightly around his waist and pulling him toward you by his collar. he teetered backwards, catching himself on the table in the hall, too roughly to spare the lamp from tipping over and clattering noisily to the floor. it went unnoticed by both of you, panting and breathless, wrapped up in only one another.

oikawa's hands gripped you firmly beneath your thighs, trying desperately to find his way to the nearest horizontal surface without breaking your kiss – he was successful, but only barely – he found the couch, leaving a trail of fallen decorations and articles of clothing in his and your wake. you landed on the plush cushions with a soft bounce, quickly being caged in by his arms once more.

"this good enough?" he muttered, hovering over you on his elbows, one hand buried messily into your hair, the other running the thumb over your bottom lip. his eyes were glazed over with love and desire; you could see yourself reflected in them. "or are you going to make me destroy more of this hotel room?"

you smiled up at him, one hand gripping at his shirt. "i don't know if your wallet could take the hit from the damages."

he shook his head solemnly, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours. "definitely not."

"i suppose we have no choice."

he leaned down further still, pressing his lips against yours. you could feel him smile.

"no choice at all."

have a request?

stop this is the cutest shit 🥺🥺

15 + 16 with oikawa pleth 😳😽✨

ofc bb! And I saw that you were having a bad day so I wrote it with extra fluff

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Prompts: 15 "You just kissed me??" "Oh my god I just kissed you." "Do it again." 16 "This is the 20th kiss I've given you." "And yet I need more."

The crowd screamed along with the boys as they won against Karasuno in the interhigh finals.

You rushed down to the court, eyes darting around, looking for the familiar 1 on the back of his jersey.

"Oikawa!" You scream, seeing him scream in victory with Iwaizumi.

Now, you weren't dating him yet, sure there were mutual feelings, but Oikawa was too busy to act on them, and you were waiting until a point where he wasn't being followed by the many many fangirls he had.

"Y/n!" He yelled, rushing over.

Overcome with happiness and emotion, he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you into a kiss, chest heaving when he finally pulled back, drunk with happiness.

"You just kissed me??" Oikawa laughed in disbelief, he just kissed you.

"Oh my god I just kissed you." His eyes searched yours earnestly looking for any indication that you didn't like him in the way you thought he did.

"Do it again." You breathed out, and he did, he cupped your face with his hands and pulled you into another kiss, only pulling away when Iwaizumi smacked him on the back.

"Get a room" He's smiling though, happy that they won and happy that Oikawa finally made a move on his longtime crush.

Oikawa rolled his eyes and leaned in to talk into your ear, the stadium still loud.

"Want to go on a date after?" Sending him a nod, you let go and point at the door, an indication of where you'll wait for him.

He nods and sends you on your way, going to bow and thank the spectators.

It's about a 20 minute wait, you reliving the kiss and how Oikawa pulled back with only admiration in his warm eyes.

"Can't stop thinking of me?" He's dressed in a regular t-shirt and athletic pants, still slightly sweaty from the game, and from the backwards tshirt and slight breathlessness you can tell he rushed out to see you as soon as he could.

"I could say the same about you."

He walks over and leans in a little, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips, wordlessly asking for consent.

At your nod he leans in and captures your lips into a kiss, it's softer this time, lacking the passion and toughness that stemmed from the excitement in the stadium, but it in no way lacked the love it held earlier.

You walk of the stadium, hands clasped around his arm, shivering slightly at the spring air.

"Oikawa, kiss." You look up to him, and see him smiling giddily at your request, pressing a soft kiss on your lips, and pulling away with a smile.

Yeah, he'd never get tired of this.

You go to a nearby convenience store, getting snack and giving eachother kisses as you walk around.

He walks you home as it gets dark, hand firmly clasped in yours, his jacket around your shoulders.

"Thanks for today." You smile, the roads becoming more familiar as you get closer to your house.

"Thanks for agreeing to be mine."

You smile and lean up slightly.

"Oikawa, kiss me."

"This is the 20th kiss I've given you." He laughs, poking your nose and smiling widely. The outdoor lamp and light from inside your house illuminate his face, causing a sparkle in his eyes and lighting his skin up.

"And yet I need more." You sigh, mustering up the saddest look you could, even with the happiness coursing through your brain.

Oikawa sighs, matching your energy despite the smile tugging at his lips.

"Who am I to deny a beautiful person their kiss?"

He pulls you into a last kiss before you head inside, waiting at your door until you lock it, before heading back and throwing a fist in the air once he dot to the street, dancing slightly, unaware of you peeking out at him through bedroom curtains.

"Dork." You smile fondly as he skips down the road, this night clearly having been one of his best, and to be honest it was one of yours too.

Reading with Akaashi - 5:45pm

Pairing: Akaashi x reader

Type of fic: Domestic fluff

Warnings: None

You’re laying on Akaashi’s lap as he reads aloud, his voice smoothly going over the punctuation and flow of the story.

He takes short breaks at the end of each chapter just to watch you, eyes closed small smile never leaving your face.

Akaashi isn’t completely sure if you’re asleep, but his reading seems to be putting you in a good mood, so he continues.

The house is slightly chilly and the sun is starting to set, filling the house with a golden light that illuminates his skin and creates a glare that makes it hard to see his gunmetal blue eyes through his wire glasses.

He’s also good at holding the book in one hand for the most part, his other hand buried in your hair, petting and massaging any tension away, occasionally stopping so he can flip the page.

He does the character’s voices well, and you can tell when he particularly likes a character by the lilt in his voice and smile as he speaks.

This week’s book was The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe a book you’ve both read before, but it’s one of Akaashi’s favourites, and he tells it slightly different each time.

His voice lulls you to a point in consciousness where all you hear is his voice and it takes everything in you to not fall asleep, but after this week you were tired and let sleep wash over you like a blanket.

The last thing you heard was Akaashi voicing the narrator, his voice slightly deeper than usual; “ People who have not been in Narnia sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at same time…”

When you wake up, Akaashi is asleep, head leaned back against the couch and hand still and tangled in your hair. His glasses still on, but slipped down his nose to where it looks like they might fall.

Carefully watching him, you grab his calloused hand, warm and large compared to yours, and kiss it. Stirring him awake.

“You fell asleep during chapter 11” he groaned, stretching his neck out.

“Did you finish it, Keiji?” You ask, brushing the hair out of his face.

“I always do.” He smiles and leans over to kiss you, sighing into the kiss.

“The suns set now.” You gesture to the dark room around you, wanting to get up, but Akaashi holds your hips in his hands.

“A little longer in the dark.”

“Sounds good to me.”

—

Permanent Taglist:

@sachirou-senpai

(To be on the permanent Taglist or just for a certain anime or character please send an ask or dm!)

Haikyuu Boys and their kisses 

Characters: various x reader 

Summary: Just some head cannons of where and how I think the haikyuu boys like kissing you 

Genre: fluffy fluff fluff 

a/n: Hey besties! sorry for being so inactive lately here’s a little something to make up for it and I promise I’m gonna try my best to post regularly and tysm for all the love on the tiktok prank series it means so much to me anyways enjoy! 

1. Traces your lips softly with their thumb before kissing you

- OIKAWA, Yamaguchi, SUNA, Konoha, Kenma, Matsukawa, SUGAWARA, Asahi, AKAASHI, Osamu, Aran, SEMI 

2. The super long passionate kiss that wasn’t intended

- IWAIZUMI, Kuroo, Atsumu, Akaashi, Sugawara, Daichi, Tsukishima, SAKUSA, Kita 

3. Kisses that travel from your lips to your neck

- Oikawa, KUROO, Atsumu, Daishou, SEMI, Terushima, Matsukawa, SUNA, Nishinoya, Aran, Sugawara 

4. Eyelid kisses 

- OIKAWA, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, YAMAGUCHI, Sugawara, SUNA, Atsumu, Sakusa, Tsukishima, Matsukawa, Kunimi, SEMI, Akaashi, Kiyoko 

5. The playful kiss on the tip of your nose

- KUROO, Sugawara, Atsumu, Terushima, Suna, Matsukawa, Kunimi, Oikawa, Tendou, Tanaka, Kiyoko, BOKUTO 

6. Kisses on the inside of your wrist

- SUGAWARA, OIKAWA, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Kenma, SUNA, Daichi, Sakusa, SEMI, Akaashi, Osamu, Daishou 

7. Shoulder Blade kisses

- IWAIZUMI, Kuroo, Oikawa, Matsukawa, Suna, Atsumu, Sakusa, Sugawara, Kiyoko, Ushijima, Semi, Akaashi, Daichi 

8. Kisses that leave you breathless 

- Oikawa, KUROO, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Suna, Atsumu, Sakusa, Akaashi, Yamaguchi, Sugawara, Semi

9. Temple kisses 

- AKAASHI, Sugawara, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Sakusa, Kita, Aran, Semi, Tsukishima, Kunimi, Osamu, Ushijima

Shoot sorry- for my request it was akaashi- for some reason i cant find your marsterlist, or if you have one but the event said any character? Either way if you do any character i wont mind :)

yaho darling! 💕 sorry this is really late! been busy with work and hit a writer's block for a while! 🙇🏻‍♀️ but here's your request and i hope you like it 😘 i thought it came out pretty cute 😗

“Keiji! We gotta leave soon!” you rush your fiancé even though it’s you who needs to hurry; dress only zipped halfway up your back, earring missing its twin, and you’re still shaking the setting spray as you check your purse for anything missing. Akaashi is leaning against the doorway between the bedroom and the connecting bathroom, a fond smile spread on his face. He’s all dressed up and ready, but he can’t help observing you go to and fro in your shared bedroom. He finds it adorable with the way you scrunch up your face in concentration as you search for the other pair to your earring set then the way you chirp in triumph when you find it. He loves watching you get ready for dates. Actually, he loves every little thing that you do; it’s why he’s marrying you. Akaashi’s heart swells with adoration and pride as he sees the engagement ring twinkle due to your vanity lights as you put on your setting spray. Memories of mere hours ago when he finally proposed to you replaying in his mind. He still feels floaty from when you had cried out “Yes!” as he asked you to marry him. Sensing his eyes on you, you peek at him from the reflection of the vanity mirror then give him a coy smile when your eyes meet his. Something tickles up your spine as you see the smile on his face grow and you duck your head when you see him leave the doorway to walk over to you. You’re not sure why you feel so shy all of a sudden, you’ve been with this man for years now. The ring around your finger knowingly winks up at you so you busy yourself with putting the other earring on while ignoring the fluttering in your chest and stomach. You bristle a bit when you feel Akaashi right behind you, the tickle in your spine increasing. A quiet gasp escapes you as he tenderly brushes your hair out of the way then helps you zip the rest of your dress up. He does it slowly and the air between you two gets tense. Before he zips your dress close, Akaashi presses his lips against the back of your neck. “Keiji...” You call to him softly and your eyes search his when they meet again in the mirror’s reflection. “I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now,” he confesses to you. That has you turning around to face him, and you snake your hands to rest them on his chest. “Kiss me... Please?” You ask him with eyes shining and cheeks heated. Your fiancé lets himself drown in your dazzling orbs before leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. When Akaashi pulls back, he almost laughs at how cute you’re disappointingly pouting up at him. “Kiss me again, like you mean it,” you huff at him to which he nods, an amused chuckle falling from his lips. His hands on your hips pull you flushed against him and that has you wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are over yours in flash, kissing you as if he’s starved. Tongues dance and moans are swallowed. When you two part, both of you are panting to catch a breath but lovestruck smiles set on your faces. He sighs happily and rests his forehead against yours,

“Maybe we can be a few minutes late...”

HoneyBunny's 400 Event: Closed

WEEKEND PRACTICE

summary: Akaashi doesn’t mind his early morning weekend volleyball practices. But having you in his bed might change that. 

pairing: akaashi keiji x f!reader 

genre: established relationship au, college au | fluff 

warnings: aged up characters, new relationship honeymoon stage fluff </3 

word count: 1.6k 

a/n: wanted to start this thing where I write short domestic / established relationship fics based on prompts (after I posted the 3k Todoroki fic), so have another!! based on the prompt “if you had asked me to say, I would’ve” but adjusted slightly. 

The occurrence of early morning volleyball practices are a sign that the playoffs and tournament season are rapidly approaching. With the upcoming challenges that await the team, it’s only natural for the coach to schedule a surplus of practice games or practice sessions to ensure that all the players can refine their skills. After all, there are always balls to spike or pinpointed jump serves to perfect—despite the groans and moans from players. 

Akaashi, however, is indifferent to these volleyball practices because he is nothing if not consistent. He makes sure to always show up, rain or shine, because he knows that Bokuto will drag him out regardless of his emotional state. Given that, Akaashi fulfills his appearance quota more out of obligation than anything else—but volleyball has been a part of his life for so many years, that the choices are basically second nature to him. 

At least, that’s how it’s been up until very recently. 

Akaashi realizes that although he may be indifferent to volleyball practice, he is far from indifferent about you. 

Keep reading

Tummy kisses + Saeyoung + ticklish MC sounds just perfect 🥺

regard | saeyoung choi

WARNINGS: she wants to take care of him baybee, saeyoung never worries about his health, they kiss!!!  WORD COUNT: 1.3k  AUTHOR’S NOTE: if i’m going to be honest, this request had me kinda stumped at first, but i ended up really liking how it turned out!! i hope you do too!

“You’re late.” Her voice is surprisingly sharp. 

He’s standing in the doorway brushing his teeth, watching as her silhouette rises from the mattress. The blankets hang around her shoulders, strands of hair sticking up in the light spilling from the bathroom. His hand freezes, leaving his toothbrush to dangle from his mouth. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I got really sidetracked and—” He can see the frown pressing against her lips. 

He’d promised to be done working by midnight and truthfully, he’d had every intention to keep that promise. He set a dingy little alarm clock in front of him and glanced over at it from time to time, his fingers still hovering over the keys, but that didn’t seem to help. 

Now, it’s well past three in the morning, and the shadow of her face is dripping with disappointment. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. His feet are cold against the tile as he fidgets, watching her fall back onto the pillow. 

It’s not that she isn’t understanding—she always is. It’s that dark circles are running rampant under his eyes and he can’t remember the last time he saw the sun. It’s that she’s been begging for him to eat anything other than chips for the last week, and there’s still a half-empty bag on his desk. It’s that he can hear the patter of her feet around the empty bunker and though she claims to be more than content with the life they have, she must be bitterly lonely. 

He knows she’s worried about him more than anything else, so as he rinses his toothbrush under the sink and stuffs it into the holder, guilt settles into his stomach. 

He’s silent as he slips into bed next to her—an unusual thing. He likes to ask about her day, to hear her voice, to know about the little things she wants to talk about before he falls asleep. But tonight she’s facing away from him—leaving nothing more than a mound of blankets and the light sputter of her breaths. 

His gaze follows her back. It’s the only sliver of her frame still visible from outside the comforter, her spine contorting each time she breathes. He waits to see her chest settle—to see the heaviness of sleep fall upon the blanket. It never comes. She’s wide awake. 

For a moment, he hesitates to move. His shoulders are wound tightly around his back and the words seem to fall just before his lips, so when he attempts to reach forward, a hand hangs in the air between them. Long fingers stretch towards the exposed skin of her back, twitching at the idleness of his hesitation. 

“Saeyoung?” It’s like she can tell he’s there. There’s no heat lingering from his body or noise shuffling between the sheets; he supposes she just knows him well enough to know that he can’t leave her like this. That he hates when she’s upset with him. 

The sound of her voice is enough to propel his hand forward, fingertips making contact with her skin. He can feel the muscles deep in her back ripple under his touch, leaving her body to shiver in the dark. 

His mouth opens to say something, but he hesitates, instead allowing his hand to further trail her back. At first, it’s a gentle movement—fingers crossing vertebrae of her spine—but his wrist falls, tracing the line of her torso. As he passes her hips, her body jerks, a huff pouring from her throat. 

She’s laughing. 

The shadow of a smile, a devilish little thing, claws at Saeyoung’s cheeks as he does it again. Her movements are smaller this time—her body more prepared for the sudden jolt—but this does nothing to stop the sound that falls from her lips. It’s not quite a full laugh, not even a giggle, really, but it’s enough to keep him going. 

“Babe.” Her voice is stern but there’s a gentleness that hangs with the term of endearment. She swats softly at him, but he’s quick to catch her wrist, placing it back in front of her. 

His hands spread out along her sides and suddenly he’s tickling her. He can see her so clearly trying to resist, but laughter is spreading in the air and the comforter is falling off her shoulders. She turns, half facing him, and suddenly he pounces. 

He props himself up on his elbows, trapping her underneath him, loose curls hanging from the sides of his face. She twists haphazardly, catching her breath. 

“I’m really sorry.” It’s the third time he’s said it and the first time he can see her reaction, but he knows where it’s going. Her face falls and she sighs, tucking her arms around her chest. 

He loves her, oh how he loves her. She was just so terribly angry with him a moment ago, and with good reason, but all he can think about is how he loves her. And when her breath is warm against his face, pricked with laughter and annoyance, he loves her. And when he kisses the top of her hips to watch the way she squirms, he loves her. 

His lips dot the space between her waist and her ribs, leaving more stifled laughter to fall from her mouth. Her hands rest on his shoulders, fingers squeezing with every new fit of breaths, the only semblance of resistance that her body produces. 

“Saeyoung, please I’m—” Her chest heaves in gentle laugher, her legs kicking under him. “I’m literally gonna throw up.” 

He pauses, eyes glancing up to meet hers, a smile spread wide across his face. The anger is washed from her tone now. She says his name with the soothing lilt she always does, and though he knows she’s still upset—he also knows it’s more concern than anger. 

“Forgive me.” He kisses her shoulder, her neck, her jaw. His lips are lazy and his kisses messy, but he can still feel her skin blooming beneath each one. “I was stupid and I should’ve listened to you, but I lost track of time again, and I—I’m sorry I disappointed you.” 

“You never disappointed me.” She takes his face in her hands, brushing loose strands of red hair with her thumbs. “I was worried, I am worried. I know you’re capable of keeping yourself afloat, but I’m upset with you because I want you to be more than afloat.” The pad of her thumb swipes just above his temple and he shivers. “I want you to be happy, Saeyoung. Happy and safe and in bed at a semi-normal human time.” 

He chuckles in reply, but there’s something so genuine about it—something he’d never give anyone else. 

He wants to kiss her again—god he wants to—but there’s this softness to her expression with her eyes blown wide that he can’t risk tainting. Her cheeks are flushed from laughter, light breaths spilling from her lips, but he hovers there, a gentle gaze falling over her features through the dark. 

They linger for a moment, the space between them heavy and the room growing warm, until her lips brush his cheek. Butterfly kisses scratch at his browbone, her mouth warm against his skin, and suddenly Saeyoung begins to melt. 

Oh, how he can see the way she cares. When she begs him to set alarms for midnight and worries so endlessly about him all the time, he can see how she cares. When she kisses him like her lips could tear him apart and her arms wrap around his neck, robbing him of all balance on his elbows, he can see how she cares. 

And when they finally crash into each other, neither daring to move from their place, a pile of limbs forming in the middle of their mattress, he can see it—and it’s never been clearer to him. 

truthfully, miserably. [m. fushiguro]

the truth came to him like a drowning man’s first breath, but came far too late; you were already long gone.

cw: literally just angst. 

wc: 1.5k.

note: this doesn’t even have a plot??? it’s just me directing my bummed out energy on my poor baby megumi i feel so bad i have to like write him fluffly headcanons or something after this.

“you’re lying.” 

megumi stiffened his body to suppress the shudder that passed through him. he worried that those words would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

how terrifying it was to watch himself become undone by those two words. he’d known himself to be an honest man, a good man. it didn’t ever occur to him that lying about something as intangible, inconsequential as his own feelings could hurt someone; could make him a worse person. 

“it’s not the right time. i’m too busy to worry about you more than i already do.”

it had been an easy lie. so easy that he was mildly convinced of it himself until the moment you’d pulled it to pieces before him and turned your back on him with a suitcase in one hand. 

Keep reading

jaw kisses with saeyoung or perish... i want tension 🤠🤠🤠 thanks love u

you asked for tension so i gave you tension. love u

playful | saeyoung choi

warnings: sheeeeeesh (horny) aka. uh. not smut but it sure does get close sometimes. also heavily implied smut. h e a v i l y.

word count: 1.4k

Sunlight drips through their curtains and onto the linen sheets of their bed. Saeyoung groans at the way it hits his eyes, turning away from the window and towards her. He burrows his face into the area between her shoulder and the pillow she lays on, wrapping an arm around her bare waist to pull her closer.

She hums at his touch. “Is it really morning already?” She asks, sleep still evident in the lilt of her voice. She brings one of her hands down to his that lays against her skin, placing her fingers in the empty spaces between his.

“No,” Saeyoung replies, the sound of his voice muffled by her flesh, “not if we fall back asleep.”

Laughter pulls her away from him, shifting her further towards the edge of the bed. He feels as she shakes her head, and then shifts, forcing his hand further down to her hips as she sits up, casting her legs over the side of their bed.

“C’mon, Saeyoung,” She says, “We should get going.” He feels her weight shift as she stretches, hears her joints pop as she moves. He turns his head so he can see her fully, and catches a sight of none other than perfection.

Her bare back lays in front of him, her arms stretched high over her head as she stretches. The sun casts a golden glow onto her, highlighting the highs and casting shadows over the divots in her torso.

His breath is no longer his own. It stutters as it escapes him, his hands no longer calm and steady. He can hardly comprehend the way she moves, the way the muscles in her back give to her demands so easily.

He supposes he can hardly blame them. He, too, follows her beck and call. He, too, follows her movements with ease and gives way to her without ever having a thought.

She pulls her hair up and away from her neck, forming it into a bun held only by her delicate fingers. Her neck tilts to let the wind of their ceiling fan catch it, creating soft chills that travel down her spine.

He almost envies the way the chills get to live under her skin—the way they get to move with her and be a part of her without even knowing. Yet, he does not envy them for not knowing their own presence.

At the thought of them, he drags his hand up from her hip, and with the light touch of his middle finger, follows the shadows in the valley of her spine, feeling the way those chills raise under the wake of his touch. Her back arches beneath him and her head falls to the side, a sigh escaping her nose.

“Saeyoung,” She warns, her voice more like a melody than an actual wish for caution. Still, she leans into his touch, melting into his fingers. He hums, still too entrenched by sleep for his words to be fully formed when he speaks.

“Yes?” He replies, voice low and gravelly with the memory of nightfall. She doesn’t respond to him, only intakes a contented breath as his fingers travel back up her spine and onto her shoulders. His touch traces patterns between her freckles that lay there, figure-eights and randomly formed, languid shapes becoming nothing more than muscle memory for him.

When another breath escapes her and she releases her hair from her fingers as his touch falls down from her shoulder onto her upper arm, he takes the invitation to sit up. He wraps one arm around her waist, the other lightly tangling his fingers in her hair, moving it off of her neck.

He presses his lips just behind her ear, and her head falls further onto her opposite shoulder. One of her hands falls to grasp his forearm that lays at her waist, allowing him to continue to trace shaky patterns into her stomach.

“You’re shaking,” She states, running her hand up his arm to feel as his fingers move unsteadily against hers. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” He lies, “Only excited to bring you back to bed.” She laughs and her head bows, moving away from his lips, but she’s quick to sit back up again.

At that, he leans further into her, kissing behind her ear again, and then below it. He moves around her until he’s kissing the back of her jaw. She leans into his lips as he moves, and he can hardly hold back the smile that begins to form on them.

“I think it’s working,” He hums. She groans at him, shaking her head.

“You’re awfully playful this morning,” She replies, but she doesn’t move away from him. Instead, her hand moves to allow him more freedom against her waist. He presses the pads of his fingers lightly into her hips, feeling as more chills rise against her skin.

“Playful’s a word for it.” His lips press to her jaw as she scoffs at him, her lips barely parting as the breath escapes her.

“Perhaps bold is a better choice of words, then,” She replies. Now he laughs, his head falling onto her shoulder and burying into the crook of her neck. The hand that’s holding her hair off of her neck travels down to her waist to mirror the other, now both hands pressing into her hips.

“We have work to do,” She offers as another warning, but it’s weak as her head leans on top of his, one of her hands coming up to tangle into his hair.

“Is there any work that can’t wait only a while longer?” He asks. He melts into the hand that plays with his hair, letting out uneven breaths beneath her fingertips.

“I have emails…” She begins, but allows herself to trail off. Saeyoung smiles into her flesh, pressing a kiss to the junction of her neck and shoulder.

“I have a feeling those can wait for an hour,” He replies. She laughs, quiet and breathy. He raises his head away from her shoulder as she turns back to him, finally allowing him to see her full face.

Her eyes are barely open, her lips red and the corners of her mouth upturned into the beginnings of a smile. Stray pieces of hair lay in front of her eyes, and he moves a hand away from her hips to brush it out of the way. She catches his hand as it lingers against her skin, feeling the way it shakes in hers.

“You’re a better liar when I can’t touch you,” She says. She releases his hand so it can trace her jaw, his thumb pressing against the center of her lips before unsteadily dragging away.

“You can’t blame me for that,” He whispers, his voice dropping an octave as his gaze meets hers. “You’ve always made me nervous, babe.”

His hands can’t touch her enough. Even as one lays on her jaw and the other on her hip, he can’t meet enough of his skin with hers. His hand travels up to her waist and then back down again, feeling the way her torso curves. He softly grips into the skin there, and she sighs again, her breath now fanning onto his lips. He inches closer to her without thinking, but their lips don’t quite meet.

If he could, he would crawl into her body through her breath. He would become her muscles, the raise of her skin against the cold. He’d guide her movement until he couldn’t anymore, until time grew to be too much for both of them.

So how could he ever deny his nerves around her? How could he ever deny the way she shoots adrenaline into his veins until he’s running on nothing but endorphins and her touch on his soul?

She leans in to kiss him, finally. She turns fully now, so she can hang her arms around his neck and move her fingers into his hair. His fingers grip at the flesh on her hips and trace along the skin at her lower back.

When they part, she leans her forehead against his, laughter biting at her voice.

“The emails can wait two hours,” She says, and then presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He hums, and then presses his lips down from her lips onto her jaw once more.

“Playful,” She states as he kisses her, “Most definitely playful.”

At Peace | Akaashi Keiji

SYNOPSIS: You like taking naps on his lap.

READER: gender neutral

WORDS: 744

WRITTEN: 03/17/2021

You peered around the open door to Keiji's office. You stared at his back and thought about bothering him or not.

His back was facing you since his desk was in front of the window. He liked being able to pause and look out the window while he was writing articles from home.

He always left the door open for you because he knew you were a bit clingy. He didn't mind. He liked that you were clingy sometimes.

If he wasn't the type of person to accept and give affection, he wouldn't have spent all of high school with Bokuto.

You shuffled into his office. Keiji turned around in his chair, allowing you to climb onto his lap.

You wiggled around until you were comfortable. Your chest was pressed against his as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. You buried your face into the crook of his neck and closed your eyes.

He knew you well. A single glance at the clock would tell him if it was nap time or not. You always took naps around the same time each day.

He rolled his chair closer to his desk and continued to work on his laptop. It wasn't difficult for him to be your pillow and to work. All he needed was his hands anyway.

You eventually drifted off the sleep and he glanced at you before smiling softly. He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then turned back to his laptop to continue working.

It was always peaceful with you.

He enjoyed being able to write in the silence of his office. The only sounds were your soft breathing and the clacks of the keyboard. There was the occasional bird tweeting or children laughing down the street.

He preferred to work bit by bit each day instead of trying to finish a whole paper in one day. When he reached his goal for the day, he saved his progress and turned his laptop off.

He glanced at the clock before placing his hands on your back and kissing the top of your head.

"Y/N, it's time to wake up," he whispered.

He preferred to wake you up gently, then increase the volume of his voice if you didn't wake up.

Your soft snoring didn't cease, so he gently shook you while telling you to wake up. You softly groaned as you opened your eyes a smidge.

"Hi, sweetheart," he greeted.

"Hmm."

You rubbed your eyes and leaned back, blinking sleepily at him. He smiled, grabbed your face, and squished your cheeks together.

"Time to wake up," he said.

You mumbled incoherent words as he moved your head from side to side in an attempt to wake you up.

"I'll get started on dinner," he said as he placed his hands onto the back of your thighs and stood up.

You clung to him as he walked to the kitchen. When he tried to place you onto the chair, you refused to let him go.

"Time to let go, Y/N."

You whined, but let go of him. He kissed your forehead and opened the refrigerator to take out ingredients for dinner.

You watched him move around the kitchen and get started on dinner. He rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands while waiting for the pan to heat up and the pot of water to boil.

When you were sober enough, you shuffled toward the sink to wash your hands. Then, you stood next to him to help cut the vegetables.

He carefully handed you the knife, then got started on making a sauce for the vegetables.

The two of you had a routine. He'd get started on dinner, but you'd help him finish making it once you were awake enough.

"Keiji," you called out.

He looked down at you and chuckled when he saw your face. You were expecting a kiss, and he could tell.

He leaned in and kissed you on the lips, then grabbed the vegetables to sauté them. You smiled and moved to put the noodles in the boiling pot of water.

You set the dining table while waiting for the noodles to cook. Once they were ready, you drained the water and put them on two plates.

Keiji finished the sautéed vegetables and poured them over the noodles. The two of you sat across from each other and dug into the meal.

It was the small moments of domesticity with you that he enjoyed.

Notes: I have no explanation for this other than my boy deserves some positive shit after the sad ass fic i wrote the other day. So have some fun with Akaashi. That means there’s smut…some smut? Characters and everything are all adults. so….yah.

Akaashi Keiji x F!Reader

XXX

Akaashi loved it when you wore skirts or shorts. Normally when going out you’d cover up and wear pants or long dresses, always saying how you hated people staring at your legs.

But at home, he’d sometimes catch you wearing shorts.

“Hey,” he greeted, coming up behind you, a hand smoothing over your side and briefly grasping the hem of your shorts. “You’re not cold?”

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FLOWERS & PEARLS—KEIJI AKAASHI

keiji akaashi x f!reader

collab: spring formal with hqhangout!

what: 1.3k of fluffy mutual pining in two different lives with a hint of hanahaki and angst.

Spring was around the corner, but the war hadn't ended unlike the cold days of winter.

The man with gunmetal green eyes held his lover close to his chest, giving them a shell, somehow like a telephone, with a pearl attached to its point.

His lover remembers the parting smile he gave before he went on to war with tough spirits, carrying the other of the pair of shells.

From afar, through the distances, he called and talked until his voice disappeared, swallowed by the pearl that had grown bigger overtime.

Three, four years later, his voice had disappeared and it was spring again. Believing that he will come back to his lover waiting for him, he visited the cherry blossom trees near his home everyday until the cherry blossoms grew in his body, with the sight of his beloved in another's arms, her voice restored.

Swallowing the pearl by himself to reclaim his voice, he cried and grieved about his lost love until he coughed up flowers, familiar white and pink petals covered in blood, and felt his heart stop.

Akaashi closed the book in his hands. He didn't know the reason why he even opened the book in the first place. The cover was a bit torn, the pages sure to become brittle soon and the golden letters that spelled "The Tale of Hanahaki" were barely visible.

But he felt drawn to it, as if the book was beckoning him to pick it up.

He sighed, wondering if it was real since science had not found an answer to Hanahaki's source yet. Even he knew that in every story, there is an inkling of truth.

He had watched people lose their voice, the first symptom, and recover shortly after they "confessed" to the people they liked and learn that they reciprocate those feelings. He watched some advance to the next stage of the disease with bloody petals in their hands.

Rationally, he couldn't believe it, but it was real, and the only cause they knew for the Hanahaki disease was unrequited love.

He had read books under the genre of romance, had seen movies, and even witnessed it in real life as he crossed paths with different people on the street insignificantly and held the significant ones close.

Is love real, or is it just a construct?

Finished, he made his way out of the library, on his way to his work to bump into you.

He recognized you as one of the workers in a cafe he frequently went to. Apologizing, the both of you walked towards the train station, you on your way to work while he's on his way to grab a cup before work. The cherry blossoms weren't growing yet, but the wind told him that spring was in a few weeks.

He didn't know that learning your name, and the small encounters whenever he goes to the cafe was a big deal until the reality hit him when he found him staring at you more, getting flustered, and feeling more than what friends feel. He wondered, in this early spring day, with the almost melted snow and budding blooms, do you feel this way too?

Was this what love truly is?

His feelings for you were no secret to his friends, nor was it to your coworkers. Maybe, you were just as dense as a brick to not notice them, or you were too focused trying to stop your own feelings from growing every time you meet his gunmetal eyes, when a smile creeps up his lips, and his protective stance whenever you two rode the train.

You didn't notice, until he came with you to the cafe, failing miserably in hiding his sickly pale complexion, and with trembling hands.

At first you couldn't convince yourself that his situation was real. After all, he seemed healthy the previous days. Yet, reflecting, you remember how he excused himself a lot whenever you're around, how he comes back with a smile that was trying to coax you to believe that he was okay, that his disease didn't exist.

And the same goes to him.

Years, months, days; he tried so hard not to fall in the same situation. Yet, here he was, trying to catch your attention with an order of a cup of coffee and playful, short banters. Here he was, falling down the rabbit hole of unrequited love like all those victims of the disease.

Why, of all the better timings, did it choose to come now?

"Let's go find a good spot and reserve it."

His voice was hushed trying to shield the fact that his voice was disappearing. You know it, with the way he shoots a short reassuring smile when he coughs, or when you just simply look at his direction.

Always so reassuring, ever reliable Keiji Akaashi.

Watching the cherry blossoms in full bloom was, yearly, your tradition. You used to stay only for a few minutes, visiting them alone and praying to famed gods for prosperity and happiness. Having him beside you, a picnic basket on hand, was new.

But you, oh you, could definitely get used to this.

With a nod, you followed him. The sun hasn't risen yet, but the moments before it were already fulfilling. Unpacking breakfast and eating it silently, laughing at the silliest arguments, and just being together in silence.

Akaashi smiled, bittersweetness flowing through his aura, as he re-reads the Tale of Hanahaki. Now, he feels how sad the tale was. Seeing their lover gone from their arms, growing flowers that he didn't desire to see anymore; the whole tale was just too unfortunate. He notices the similarities of the war veteran in the tale, and him, a simple human overworking himself with a cup of coffee on his table.

Would it end the same for him: alone, returning to nature through becoming one of the cherry blossoms you'll visit every year after he passed?

The sun started to rise, yet he found himself inching closer to you. His touch was tentative as he interlaced his fingers in yours, bringing them to his lips.

The slight touch of his lips on your knuckles made you feel warm, cozy, as he took you in his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. You watched the sunrise together, oddly familiar with his warmth, his smell, and overall presence. Butterflies swarmed in you, fluttering rapidly as you felt him press a kiss on your temple. Your heart raced as he whispered his next words, a sentence that you've waited on for so long, one that you would've said if he hadn't:

"I love you, I'm sorry."

"You don't have to answer, nor do I need it. I—" you shushed him with a tight squeeze on his hand. It was warm and sweaty, trembling from weakness and nerves. The hand you held was his, and he held yours.

"I love you too."

For a second, he couldn't process what you had said. After all, it wasn't what he was expecting. Have you known about it for a while? Was this your own way to console his stupidity in falling in love?

He didn't know, but he did know the genuine happiness, and the tears of relief that bubbled up your eyes.

And suddenly his chest wasn't so heavy.

There are a few things a human can do compared to their gods. Decide fates, create universes, and show how beautiful their creations are. It was a sad fact, but on that spring day, the only thing in his mind was the flutter of his heart almost like the delicate flower petals floating, taken by the wind and your mesmerized eyes as he holds you in his arms.

And he, oh he, could definitely get used to this.

footer: there's something so romantic abt the tradition of flower viewing for me :") i wish i can watch cherry blossoms soon too *dreamy sigh* reblogs are appreciated!

tags; @rendezvoi join the taglist if ur interested!

𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓 𝖒𝖊

akaashi keiji

Something happens when you tell a person you love them. A chemical reaction, a slight hitch in time and the crashing of two massive rain clouds that makes the entire sky rumble. It’s sharp and direct, and Keiji thinks that maybe, maybe “I love you” will never be for him. It might just not be, because that would be a ridiculous leap of faith, and he isn’t ready to be that trusting.

But in your arms he could fall. He could fall and land softly, when looking at you through the empty glass of his sake with his cheek pressed to the wooden table and his glasses slid far down his face.

With your hair tied away from your face and your smile so wide it makes you look a bit too genuine, like someone’s taken a snapshot of your soul, he can believe the sprawling letters of text seen so often in fiction. The sentiment that you’ll know once you meet them.

He might not be ready to be open with you in that way yet, but when your hand hangs by your side while walking you home and your hand seems to ghost over the back of his own, he can see it. And he can look at you when you talk, and see the stars shining in your irises like they somehow came down to earth to possess you.

And he looks, he looks, and longs.

And when you pull him over after waving off a colleague and turn to him with that little glint of sparkling joy, he finds himself reaching. For your hand, your eyes widen a moment. But he hangs on, because dear Gods, it feels so nice to have the friction of your skin against his. Like velvet, like fur, like glass. And you just concede, using the other to hand him a copy of a book he hasn’t read yet. Your favorite, you admit.

And he squeezes your fingers a bit harder before he lets go, allowing you to break him down on the spot when you admit to it.

And this much, he thinks he can handle.

That when you find the present on the corner of your desk across the room from his, gaze swinging around until it lands on him with a question, you’ll know. That when he gives you a copy of that book you both debated over for hours under the loud drumming of the rain and you swore to him it was a horrific masterpiece, he’d never been more exasperated and smitten with a person in his entire life.

And that you’ll understand that while he thinks being ridiculous is your greatest feat, the only words that are left on his tongue when it comes to you, are “I love you”.

Yeah sex is cool, but…

Akaashi starts accidentally doodling you when assisting with character designs for his creators. It started out innocently at first. Your hair just happened to be a perfect reference for what they were working towards, but soon, drawing you becomes a pass time. 

Now each time he draws you he notices something new. A new freckle he’s missed, a scar you’ve never told him about, an expression he’s never seen before. Drawing you becomes an exploration, an adventure as his pencil etches away at all the things that make you up in his quest to commit every curve of your being to memory.

In time, he learns that your mouth is best drawn on rainy days, when just the shading he marks out under your lip can make him smile. Your eyes, are best drawn with ink, to capture the depth that is hidden behind them and your hands, well, your hands look best when he scribbles a small silver band around your ring finger on the left.

Akaashi discovers something new every single time he draws you and he won’t stop until he knows it all.

synopsis. shy akaashi and a lot of making out

pairing. akaashi x gender neutral! reader

genre. established relationship, fluff

warning. this is making out and grinding so it’s kind of suggestive! nsfw(?), it doesn’t go any further but it’s implied :]

akaashi is so kissable.

with the red tint on his cheeks, and the way his hair is looking so disheveled. with his shy smile, and the way his fingers are buried into the dip of your hips. you’d give anything to continue pressing your lips into his for the entirety of your life.

and if not for the rest of your life, then at least for a couple more hours while the sun is still up - and while akaashi’s roommate is very much not in their dorm yet.

your mouths are still parted, from the slow and shy kissing that had taken place mere seconds ago. you think it also might be because you can no longer control your breath, evident in your heavy exhales as akaashi moves to caress your bare skin under your shirt.

you wonder how he does it, keeping his breath for that long in comparison to you who’s so very clearly trying to recompose yourself. you think it might be because he’s an athlete — it’s most definitely because he is, and you don’t complain.

he’s patient, lips moving to whisper sweet words of ‘i love you’ and ‘i want to spend my whole life with you’, and the way he’s looking at you with his doe eyes is enough to send you back into his lips.

he doesn’t mind, almost immediately returning it with the same amount of passion, and yet the same shyness.

akaashi keiji, your damn kissable boyfriend, still gets shy around you.

“my pretty baby.” he’s unrestrained with his words. he’s like that when you manage to catch him deep into his feelings, which happens more often than not.

“you make me so happy.” and it’s so hard not to strip him off his clothes when quiet groans and whines are leaving his lips from the simple gesture of you shifting on his lap.

he thinks he’s a goner when you pull at the tips of his hair, and especially when you’re shyly rolling your hips against his. and he doesn’t remember how your shirt’s discarded by the end of his bed, but he’s got a slight clue it might’ve happened when you moaned into his lips the moment he bucked his hips up to match with your pace.

on most days, he’d be embarrassed by how quick he got hard when he pulled you on his lap, but he’s too distracted by the way you’re trailing kisses down his neck to even think about it. he didn’t know you were so talented with your mouth, the same way you’ve praised his fingers before.

“darling, you’re so good to me.” his eyes are shut close, and he’s squeezing your hips to slow down your movements because he’s afraid he might come already, because he doesn’t want to quite yet. he wants the moment to go on longer, nevermind the fact that his face is beet red and he’s desperately tugging you even closer than you already were.

“love it when you do that.” he enjoys the way you tug at his hair, or the way you’re biting down on his neck, or the way you’re guiding his hands to rest on your ass. but he doesn’t allow himself to have all the fun so he hooks your chin with his fingers to bring your face in front of his.

and you could’ve sworn you saw the slight hint of mischief in his gaze before he’s nipping at your neck, tongue running over the visible marks that are forming.

“wanna return the favor, my love.”

akaashi keiji is kissable. he’s always so meticulous with his mouth, and he knows just how to use them.

note. this is all i’ll ever think about 😄

this made my heart go 🥰🥰

first names

pairing: akaashi x reader

genre: friends to lovers, love triangle

contains: fluff

word count: 1.4k

summary: pure fluff in which you use Akaashi’s first name for the first time and he can’t get enough of it. should he feel guilty that he’s on a first-name basis with you while his best friend, who also has feelings for you, isn’t?

“Oh come on, you have to have an opinion. I’m dying to know the inner workings of Akaashi Keiji’s mind.” You closed your eyes and lay your head back, surrendering yourself to the sunlight.

If you weren’t in a public space, he was sure you would’ve heard the way his heart abruptly stopped at the sound of his first name. In this moment he also thanked whatever higher power was up there that you didn’t catch the pink dust on his cheeks, nor the way he briefly choked on the water he was drinking.

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hello!! how have you being?? well I saw this video ( https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSGs2ona/ ) on my fyp page and I though that this will be actually cute and perfect with akaashi!! So, May I ask some hc or one shot in which the reader do this with akaashi? Can be however you want to. :D

in my kaashi feels rn because when am i not. i have never felt more in love with a fictional character omfg

i hope you like this!! i made it a lot more dramatic than the tiktok im sorry 

━ the wind feels as in love as you are as it twirls past the two of you, brushing through your lover’s hair ever so sweetly. he’s a dream before your eyes as he guides the way through broken branches and fallen leaves, his hand delicate in yours. there’s no noise overwhelming you, just the silent crushing of dead leaves beneath your heavy feet and the wind as it twists around your frames. there exists no end and no beginning to the woods you’re losing yourself in, but you’ve never felt more at home as his fingers lock with yours.

he turns, an easy smile on his lips, and his eyes shine as he strengthens his hold on your hand, before pulling you forward. you rush towards him, into his awaiting arms, and suddenly you’re dancing and swaying with the trees as your audience. they stand over you as guardians, and as akaashi tips you back, as you lean into his embrace and stare up at the sky, you smile up at the bare branches in gratitude. 

his light laughter rings clear through the empty forest, and you sigh dreamily with your face turned away from his, before he twirls you back around. his hand finds its way to your waist, and your own settles on his shoulder, the other enclasped in his hand. the two of you rock from side to side, a little too dramatically, a little too theatrically, but this is the widest you’ve seen him smile, he’s baring all of himself to you like this, and his heart glows, evident in the shine of his eyes as he beams down at you. 

“ever the romantic you are, akaashi keiji,” you tease, but you don’t falter in your step when he lifts his arm up, yours with it, guiding you into a twirl before you rest back safely in his arms. 

“only for you,” he admits wholeheartedly, and you believe him as he spins you away. you let yourself laugh freely, skipping over a branch before running back over to him. “come here,” he says by your ear, and you hum, pulling yourself closer to him. your arms snake around his neck, and you lift yourself up nearer to him, to his pretty lips, and his pretty eyes, and pretty, soft skin. his arms are steady around your waist, encouraging you to lean up higher until you’re a breath away from kissing him. 

“i’m afraid i have to admit that i,” you start, your lips teasingly hovering over his, and he breathes you in, watching as you eye him carefully, before continuing, “am hopelessly in love with you.”

he hums appreciatively, and his fingers dig deeper into your waist, holding you to him, ensuring to him that you are real, and you are his, and you are in love with him. and then he kisses you, and there’s a weight on your chest, a breathtaking weight, but one that’s oddly pleasurable, one that you find comfort in as he presses his lips to yours, and kisses you deeper and deeper and deeper until he says, “i am,” a sigh, a hum, another deep kiss, “hopelessly in love with you, too.” 

end note; nobody touch me akaash keiji isn’t real im SAD

synopsis. shy akaashi and a lot of making out

pairing. akaashi x gender neutral! reader

genre. established relationship, fluff

warning. this is making out and grinding so it’s kind of suggestive! nsfw(?), it doesn’t go any further but it’s implied :]

akaashi is so kissable.

with the red tint on his cheeks, and the way his hair is looking so disheveled. with his shy smile, and the way his fingers are buried into the dip of your hips. you’d give anything to continue pressing your lips into his for the entirety of your life.

and if not for the rest of your life, then at least for a couple more hours while the sun is still up - and while akaashi’s roommate is very much not in their dorm yet.

your mouths are still parted, from the slow and shy kissing that had taken place mere seconds ago. you think it also might be because you can no longer control your breath, evident in your heavy exhales as akaashi moves to caress your bare skin under your shirt.

you wonder how he does it, keeping his breath for that long in comparison to you who’s so very clearly trying to recompose yourself. you think it might be because he’s an athlete — it’s most definitely because he is, and you don’t complain.

he’s patient, lips moving to whisper sweet words of ‘i love you’ and ‘i want to spend my whole life with you’, and the way he’s looking at you with his doe eyes is enough to send you back into his lips.

he doesn’t mind, almost immediately returning it with the same amount of passion, and yet the same shyness.

akaashi keiji, your damn kissable boyfriend, still gets shy around you.

“my pretty baby.” he’s unrestrained with his words. he’s like that when you manage to catch him deep into his feelings, which happens more often than not.

“you make me so happy.” and it’s so hard not to strip him off his clothes when quiet groans and whines are leaving his lips from the simple gesture of you shifting on his lap.

he thinks he’s a goner when you pull at the tips of his hair, and especially when you’re shyly rolling your hips against his. and he doesn’t remember how your shirt’s discarded by the end of his bed, but he’s got a slight clue it might’ve happened when you moaned into his lips the moment he bucked his hips up to match with your pace.

on most days, he’d be embarrassed by how quick he got hard when he pulled you on his lap, but he’s too distracted by the way you’re trailing kisses down his neck to even think about it. he didn’t know you were so talented with your mouth, the same way you’ve praised his fingers before.

“darling, you’re so good to me.” his eyes are shut close, and he’s squeezing your hips to slow down your movements because he’s afraid he might come already, because he doesn’t want to quite yet. he wants the moment to go on longer, nevermind the fact that his face is beet red and he’s desperately tugging you even closer than you already were.

“love it when you do that.” he enjoys the way you tug at his hair, or the way you’re biting down on his neck, or the way you’re guiding his hands to rest on your ass. but he doesn’t allow himself to have all the fun so he hooks your chin with his fingers to bring your face in front of his.

and you could’ve sworn you saw the slight hint of mischief in his gaze before he’s nipping at your neck, tongue running over the visible marks that are forming.

“wanna return the favor, my love.”

akaashi keiji is kissable. he’s always so meticulous with his mouth, and he knows just how to use them.

note. this is all i’ll ever think about 😄

EARLY BIRD | a.k.

pairing :: akaashi keiji x fem!reader 

synopsis :: after his washing machine calls it quits, akaashi has no choice but to spend an unusual amount of time at your family’s laundromat. somehow he gets caught up in your mess of a life and decides that it’s exactly where he wants to be.

word count :: 9.0k

genre :: strangers to friends to lovers, college!au, laundromat!au, one sided pining but mutual feelings, little bit of hurt/comfort, little bit of angst, ends in fluff

warnings :: swearing, alcohol use (they’re of age), mild partying, implications of a toxic relationship, like one sex joke lol

notes :: happy valentine’s day!! thank u cas ( @aitarose​ ) for the banner its sexc as hell and ur def getting xc for that <33 and if you think its unrealistic how much time akaashi spends doing laundry in this fic, trust me it isn’t. bitches do be living like this (im bitches). 

This morning, Akaashi Keiji’s washing machine broke. At its bare bones, it was an inconvenience—but to him it seemed to be a stressor that would take a few years off his life, at least. He’d forever blame Bokuto for leaving a pile of coins in his pocket, which caused the initial jam in the drain—and left the machine a rattling mess beyond serviceability. 

Imagine, him sitting in the kitchen of their communal home, nursing a coffee made from the press he bought himself for his last birthday, only to be met with the screams and shouts of a tortured metal cage. It made him cringe to think about how much money they’d all have to pitch in to replace it.

However, that was an issue he’d tackle at a later date—right now, Akaashi was more focused on getting his mountain of laundry clean so that he wouldn’t have to wear his sweats from high school to his next lecture. With a mesh bag strapped into his passenger seat, he used his phone to locate the closest laundromat—and lo and behold, he found you. 

The flickering fluorescents of the namesake sign above the door told him all he needed to know about the establishment in which your family owned, it was small and a little run down—but functional and efficient nonetheless. The skid of his shoes could be heard on the checker tile, as he sauntered in—a little disheveled and a whole lot of pissed off. 

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