Michael Kaiser Is A Popular Man Indeed, He Have All The Things He Wants. But There's Just Someone.. Just

hii can i please request a scenario of xavier x reader secretly dating (office dating kinda) but got found out by someone because of something they did out of habit? love your writings btw🤩

Dear jeondyy,

Thank you for the request <3 I hope you like this little fluffy story <3

Your Little Secret —He never wants to be just your little secret.

ಇ. Xavier x Female Reader

ಇ. Tags: fluff, office dating, secret dating

ಇ. Word count: ~1k8

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

Recently, Tara "sensed" something was going on at headquarters, and she was determined to uncover the mystery.

At first, things were not clear to Tara; she just had a faint impression that her peers were changing in ways she was unaware of. After many days of observation, she reached a stunning conclusion:

“Xavier is definitely dating!”

You coughed out the mouthful of water you had just drunk, prompting the computer screen in front of you to get wet. Tara looked at you with suspicious eyes:

“What's wrong with you?”

You quickly grabbed a piece of tissue from the table to wipe your face, avoiding Tara's inquisitive gaze.

"Ah… no… Nothing…" You murmured in answer. "I was just… a little surprised why you thought Xavier was dating…"

Your attention swiftly turned to the opposite side of the office, where Xavier was seated with his chin resting on the desk, his eyes half-closed as if having a nap.

"I have proof!" Tara continued, then moved her foot to push her chair closer to you. Raising one hand as a covert gesture, Tara whispered into your ear. “Xavier hadn't been to headquarters too frequently before. Every mission was sent particularly to him. However, he is now arriving at work on a regular basis and leaving late. Isn't that suspicious?”

You nodded in accord to please Tara. She spoke more: “There are also a few other miscellaneous things... Like phone charms! That adorable rabbit charm was definitely given to him by a girl!”

Your face turned pale. You glanced at the phone on your desk before swiftly grabbed and stuffed it into the pocket of your jacket. However, Tara caught the act. She lifted her eyebrows in curiosity.

"Xavier is undoubtedly dating. I just need to find out who his girlfriend is!”

A shiver ran through your body. Tara was concerned by the look and asked:

“Are you sure you're okay? You look pale!”

“Maybe… it's because the air conditioning here is a bit low… Um… I'll adjust it!”

After saying that, you rose up and went away. When you reached the vacant balcony and looked down at the city of Linkon beneath your feet, you breathed a sigh of relief. Your hand went into the jacket and took out the phone and held it up high. A phone charm shaped like a white cotton bunny swung in front of you.

It was a pair, with one dangling from Xavier's phone.

Simply put; Xavier's mysterious girlfriend whom Tara was looking for was you. It all started a month ago, when he and you formally began dating…

"You want to keep us a secret?" Xavier inquired, his tone somewhat disappointed.

"Yes… I believe we should focus on work for the time being. Captain Jenna also stated that office dating should be limited..."

Xavier was quiet for a long time. You felt like you'd let him down so much. He took a brief peek outside the window before returning his attention to you.

“If you want it that way, so be it.”

"Thank you!" You shouted, along with that a feeling of relief in your heart.

“But,” Xavier said abruptly, and you began to faintly sense the constraints tied to his agreement to do what you desired. “Outside of working hours or at places where there are no colleagues, I can touch you, I can hold your hand or embrace you as much as I want!”

You blushed. Your body was still adjusting to Xavier's unexpected touches, but you had to confess that you were anticipating them a lot.

"Okay. Just outside the workplace environment..."

Before you could finish speaking, Xavier came closer and placed a somewhat fierce kiss on your lips. Knowing that he had to suffer a disadvantage by playing the role of your secret lover in this manner, you accepted his sulking and promised yourself that you would find an appropriate occasion to inform everyone about the relationship between the two of you.

Tara, however, was one step ahead. You had no clue when she first noticed Xavier's alterations; all you knew was that once she started, she would not stop until his secret was out into the light.

Afraid that Tara would notice your phone charm was paired with Xavier's, you removed it and kept it at home. The following days, when he noticed you weren't using it, he inquired:

“Where is the bunny hanging on your phone?”

“Ah… I put it away… Everyone at headquarters will notice we have matching stuff.”

Xavier said nothing more after hearing your explanation. You just noticed him softly clutching his bunny charm. That pair of phone charms was a present you got from the claw machines at the arcade on a date. Looking around the home, you realized you had kept a lot of lovely ornaments from your dates.

Among them were two pairs of house slippers with bunny plushies on top that Xavier must have intentionally brought his own to work.

“See those slippers? This means he's definitely dating!” Tara mumbled to herself next to you. “Why do they look like some of the slippers given away at the arcade nearby?”

Tara turned to look at you for support, but all she saw was your bloodless face and your fingers squeezing the pen as if you wanted to shatter it in half.

When you got home that day, you interrogated Xavier.

“Why did you wear those slippers to work?”

He calmly replied: “I don't like wearing Hunter's boots forever. My legs need to rest as well. So I brought it to headquarters for more comfort.”

“You… You could have chosen another pair!”

You sighed. Xavier gave a triumphant half-smile: "You're worrying too much. As long as you don't bring your pair to headquarters, Tara won't find out. Just let her run around assuming things.”

“You don't cooperate at all!” You said with a bit of frustration. As soon as you turned to leave, Xavier grabbed your wrist and drew you into his arms, holding you tightly.

“I merely agreed to keep our relationship a secret, therefore I won't tell anyone that my girlfriend is you. It's not my fault if someone figures it out on their own, right?"

He was right, to the point where your argument would be invalid. You stood still as he held and kissed you. To be honest, keeping this love story a secret proved to be challenging for you, especially since all you wanted to do was shout for the entire world to know, Xavier was yours.

Tara and you used to go out to dinner or have boba tea together after work before dating Xavier. But since having Xavier in your life, you had to continuously refuse Tara's offers, which made her suspicious.

“Where are you going after work?”

"Huh? Where am I going? I just go straight home? I've been a bit tired lately..."

Tara cast you a distrustful glance. "You're not hiding yourself on a date with some guy, are you?!"

You tensed up in your office chair, startled. You feigned to concentrate on the report in front of you, without responding to Tara. She refused to let this go, staring at you with the attitude of a tiger seeking its prey.

You thought that this ought to end.

That evening, as scheduled, you met Xavier at the arcade. You decided to cease meeting after work and go home with him for a while, at least until you completed the upcoming mission. Captain Jenna entrusted you with immense responsibility and did not forget to emphasize that any distractions, especially dating, should be terminated. But you understood that this also meant breaking his heart.

Xavier gripped your hand strongly as you strolled through the arcade. You hadn't said anything to him since you were still trying to find the right words. But he appeared to already know what you were thinking.

“If you're worried about the next mission, we can take a break from dating for now…”

Your eyes widened, and you couldn't believe Xavier had just proposed it out of concern for you. But before you could react, a very familiar voice echoed from the enormous white teddy bear on one side of the path.

“Ha! I caught you both red-handed!”

Tara's face emerged behind the bear's arm. She went out, stood in front of you and Xavier, even pointed at you.

"You two just admitted it yourself!"

"Tara…" You called out, but she was furious.

"And you?! For so long you knew what I was suspecting, but you never said a word! You didn't bother to tell me YOU. ARE. DATING. XA-VI-ER!”

"Oh Tara, please keep your voice down a bit…" You clasped her hand, hoping to soothe her rage. “I was going to tell you… But it's not the right time yet…”

“So how long are you going to hide this from me? Am I your best friend? I'm so disappointed! Extremely disappointed!”

Tara backed away from you and folded her arms across her chest. You turned to Xavier for aid, but he feigned to know nothing, while it was all thanks to his "accidental" clues that she easily discovered this secret.

“I'm really sorry, Tara… Honestly, I'm worried how everyone at headquarters will react when they find out that Xavier and I are… dating…” When the words came out of your lips, telling others about you and Xaiver, you felt both fluttering and thrilled. Looking to the side, the corner of his mouth twisted up into a smile.

“Now you know my reaction!” Tara was still pouting. “You two will have to bribe me if you want my help keeping this a secret!”

"Of course." You smiled conciliatory while embracing Tara's arm. “Shall I buy you some boba tea?”

"For one month." Tara raised her finger and replied. “You will pay for all the boba tea I'll have for a whole month. The revelation that two of Linkon's top Hunters are dating will be surprising, you know! Who could guess what Captain Jenna would say about this.”

"Alright. One month it is." On the outside you were smiling, but on the inside, you were grieving for this month's earnings. “Will you help us keep it a secret until I finish my next mission?”

Tara nodded cheerfully. You sighed with relief and looked at Xavier. He smiled at you. His fingers intertwined with yours. t felt lovely to be able to freely hold his hand in public. Perhaps now you could see why Xavier never intended to keep this relationship a secret from the start.

Pictures are from X

Deceiving the Duke | 6 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.1k of 30k words | 6th of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

Over the course of the ensuing weeks, your certainty only grew worse: you were developing feelings for Lord Shouto.

You sent another letter to Camie, ashamed to tell her that not only had you continued the scheme against her express wishes, but now you were falling for the worst person possible. She wrote back, heartbroken to hear it, demanding once more you put a stop to things before they went too far.

But you couldn’t help yourself. You would never again get time with Lord Shouto–you wanted to revel in it as long as you could.

You reassured yourself that he meant to marry the princess–a rumor that was only growing stronger as the season crept onwards with no hint of a proposal to anyone from his corner–and he meant only to use you as a deterrent to the other scheming misses and matchmaking mothers crowding the parlors and assembly rooms of Musutafu.

You hoped that once your own scheme was uncovered he wouldn’t hold it against you–would understand that you’d liked spending the time with him, but had never desired to trap him in any sort of romantic understanding.

Lord Shouto made things so much more difficult for you by continuing to be so horribly good. He was kind and attentive, and so unexpectedly funny, you couldn’t help but fall harder.

He sought you out many times a week, taking you for several more promenades, insisting on a dance at every ball, and even took you riding in the park. He even let you take the reins when you’d reached an emptier stretch of road where no one might see you driving, showing you how to steer his set of bays and smiling that gentle smile when you got the hang of it and urged them to go faster.

He called several times more, bringing another bouquet of flowers for you–tiny bright jonquils tangled with orange winter cherries, and hedged with short-trimmed ferns–that you managed to squirrel away into your tiny bedroom without the Utsushimis seeing.

He was on your mind so constantly that you found yourself ducking into the haberdashery on an afternoon Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui had invited you out. An idea seized you as you had looked into the window, and you found yourself drawn over to the small selection of handkerchiefs for sale.

You didn’t have much in the way of spending money, sending most of it back to your family, but you had just enough to buy a linen square bordered in a dark blue. Miss Ochako and Lady Asui watched you almost too knowingly as you did.

You worked late into the night that evening, tucked up in your bed with embroidery thread and a book you’d ferreted out of the late Mr. Utsushimi’s study propped open in your lap–a Greek primer, with a tiny section on Ancient Greek. You found that their phonetic system did not align quite so neatly with yours, but you made do, stitching the closest approximation of Lord Shouto’s name in the Greek alphabet–how it might be spelled had he found himself there.

You hoped he would find it fun, and not too silly–-and that he would understand that you had liked him enough to think of him, even when your deception was uncovered.

Giving to him was another matter, however, as you found yourself too shy and girlish on the several occasions you saw him next. It stayed tucked away in your reticule, burning at your wrist.

You finally resolved to give it to him at a dinner party at Lady Cathleen’s, where you might hopefully be able to flee to the other end of the table and not speak to him for the rest of the night. Caroline had informed you that tables were set according to rank, meaning the Utsushimi family would find themselves at the foot of the table, with Lord Shouto all the way at the head.

In preparation, you donned the most secure of Camie’s gowns—which was not saying much—but you felt better for the more protective, higher neckline, the muted blue of its color which would draw little attention your way, for it almost bordered on the drab palette of married women or spinsters. You knew Camie had chosen it for the contrast it would draw to her largest, sparkliest choker of paste jewels, which you carefully ignored in favor of her smallest pendant.

You would be as well hidden as you could manage, at the other end of the table, and with any luck Lady Cathleen would dress her table with elaborately tall candlesticks and floral displays you might duck behind.

In fact, once you thought of it, you were almost certain you could hide Lord Shouto’s gift at the table itself, that you might not have to confront him in person with the full force of both your stupidity and your regard for him. You wouldn’t even need to witness his expression upon its receipt.

It was with that thought that you stuck to the edges of the drawing room as guests crowded into Lady Cathleen’s estate, drawing as little notice as you could. You requested the restroom as soon as you were able, instead sneaking off towards the dining room to scout out Lord Shouto’s place.

Except—as you scanned the head of the table–his place card was nowhere to be found. You knew he was coming–Mrs. Utsushimi hadn’t shut up about it, and besides that, Lord Shouto had told you as much himself. Brow furrowing, you wandered around the table.

A little shocked thrill went through you to see his name next to Camie’s, towards the opposite end of the table he should have been. Camie’s name also had managed to come unmoored from the Utsushimi block that occupied the end of the table, several seats away from Caroline and Mrs Utsushimi.

You wondered at the specificity of the mistake, and then a thought occurred to you.

Well–if there had been a mistake, it only made sense to use it to your advantage.

You quickly tucked your gift under Lord Shouto’s place card, very carefully that it might only be seen once he’d moved it. And then you took your own place card away and carried it down the table to Caroline’s spot. You’d just managed to replace hers with yours when a low voice carried across the room.

“I suppose I should be less surprised to find you in another deserted room.”

You froze, arm still outstretched over Caroline’s seat, your eyes darting up to the entryway. Lord Shouto stood there, looking as preternaturally handsome as ever. The candlelight glinted off the white of his hair, burnishing it gold, and the shadows danced in the hollows of his cheeks, the divot under his full mouth. He was dressed in a dark gray dinner jacket, a cravat tied immaculately at his throat.

He took a step into the room, a white eyebrow raised.

“Lord Shouto,” you said hoarsely, quickly whipping Caroline’s card behind your back. Perhaps he hadn’t seen what you’d been up to. “I—it’s not what it looks like.”

“Then you are not rearranging Lady Cathleen’s seating placards?” he asked in his smooth baritone. He continued into the room, circling the table to you.

A hunted feeling crept over you. “I–it’s funny it should look that way…but I, um…”

Lord Shouto drew closer, leaning in, and a gloved hand touched the place card in your fingers, tugging it gently from your grasp. He glanced down at it, a tiny smile touching his mouth. “You’d not been about to seat Miss Caroline next to me, had you?”

His gaze darted over to the middle of the table where his placard sat, like he’d already known there’d been some mistake with his placement.

Hot embarrassment burned its way through your veins, and you snatched Caroline’s place marking out of his hand. “As a matter of fact, the only empty spot is next to you,” you said, attempting to make your way around him to put it down.

“And that would not be because you had already moved another place card, would it?” Lord Shouto asked mildly, stepping in front of you so that you almost headbutted his chest. You backpedaled wildly, almost tripping over the hem of your gown.

“I—what proof have you?” you demanded, trying your best to sound as though you hadn’t just done exactly that.

Lord Shouto’s smile widened, a rare sight, and it sent a lick of heat right down your spine. You clutched a chair, aware of how stupid it was that a smile was about to send you into a swoon.

Those long fingers reached out and pulled Caroline’s place card from your grip again, and Lord Shouto produced your own, switching your places once more. “The proof that I asked Lady Cathleen to seat me here, with you,” he said simply.

A horde of butterflies exploded in your chest again, and your face went hot.

How could he say things like that so easily? An ask like that was a clear declaration of his favor–something you very much did not deserve, all things considered.

“Your Grace,” you said, in protest.

Lord Shouto’s smile flashed white in the candlelight, a clever half-moon. “It was you who doubted I might reign in my presumption by the end of the season. You should be pleased to find yourself proven right.”

Pleased didn’t quite cover the breadth of emotion you were feeling–embarrassment, guilt, and pleasure all warred with one another in your chest.

“Really, I was doing you a favor,” you insisted, gesturing at Caroline’s place setting. “She is a great conversationalist, and very pleasing to look at.”

“As you have said perhaps hundreds of times,” Lord Shouto acknowledged. “It is just as well I can look at her from across a table.”

You frowned up at him. “I am beginning to think you do not mean to find a wife, as you’d hinted.”

Lord Shouto bent his head so he could lean closer, and your hip bumped the table as you stepped back, nervous with his sudden proximity.

“Then you did take my meaning that day,” he said, his voice low.

Your skin prickled at the layer of intent in his tone.

“And I am only trying to help you now,” you told him. “You’ll get very little mileage out of me as your dining companion, considering I cannot wed.”

“Cannot,” Lord Shouto murmured, as if turning the word over in his mouth.

“Caroline can, however,” you continued as though you hadn’t heard him. “And I understand she is a very desirable match. She’s acquired several admirers, you know, and you won’t want to dally. There is a Mr. Awase who is very keen.”

“You say it as though you are not a desirable match,” Lord Shouto said.

His words were like a thunderbolt, striking through you. The very idea of you as a desirable match!

You laughed, but Lord Shouto’s face did not change, and he pressed even closer, close enough that you found yourself trapped against the table. Lightning zinged in your veins as you registered the heat of him over you, your blood singing with the thrill of a man so close.

“You do not believe so?” he asked. He was close enough that you could feel the exhalation of his words on your mouth.

Your head swam with the ridiculousness of the question, and the press of him so close. You scrounged around for an appropriate ripost, but then Lord Shouto’s face drew even nearer.

Your breath seized in your chest, and you stared silently up at him, heart racing.

Outside, a loud laugh sounded, startling you, and you jumped, almost smacking your forehead into Lord Shouto’s nose.

He dodged neatly, smiling ruefully and stepping away. But there was a light in his eyes like he was strangely satisfied–as though he’d confirmed something.

“We should go, lest we are discovered here, and your reputation compromised,” he said. “You should take your leave first.”

You could tell he meant to prevent you from switching the place settings again once he was gone, and you squinted at him suspiciously. He looked far too pleased with himself, and his smile seemed to grow a fraction wider. It was your observation that his eyes slivered into little crescents when he truly smiled that finally sent you stumbling out of the dining room, your heartbeat tripping over itself.

You found your absence had gone unnoticed when you arrived back in the drawing room, though Lord Shouto’s entrance was intently noted by every single set of female eyes. Several fans came out, flapping back immaculately coiffed curls, and Lord Shouto’s face went politely blank.

You stifled a laugh at his expense.

Eventually you were let into the dining room and you found yourself at Lord Shouto’s side once more. Lady Cathleen’s eyes flickered interestedly over you and tried not to look too strange or suspicious under her attentions.

You were pointedly studying the table linens with avid interest when you felt Lord Shouto stiffen beside you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him draw the handkerchief out from under his place card, and you found you couldn’t lift our eyes to his face, too anxious of his reaction. You adopted a sudden fascination with the centerpiece to your opposite side–until a gloved hand touched yours in your lap.

You startled, almost knocking over your water glass, fingers reflexively seizing on the hand that had touched you.

You glanced up at Lord Shouto as his own fingers tightened on yours, and found him smiling that tiny, private smile of his. His gaze was almost molten in the candlelight.

“I see rearranging the place settings was not your only objective,” he said. There was a touch of pleasure in his voice, so rich and low. The sound made your blood fizz like a bottle of champagne had just been poured down your veins.

His hand shifted, his wrist resting on your thigh, and your breathing went shallow at the feeling of a man’s hand where it had never been before.

“I–you might think it’s silly—” you groped for something to say.

“I can think of no gift I have ever liked more,” he said.

The praise flooded through you in a warm wave of pleasure, and your ears went hot. “I…should like if you would think of me fondly, after this season,” you said.

Lord Shouto’s brows creased, and that full mouth pursed a little in thought. You tried very hard not to think of kissing it.

“You say that as if you do not plan we should ever see each other again,” he said carefully.

A hot stab of panic lanced through you when you realized you’d almost hinted at the dissolution of your scheme. You searched for some response.

“I–there is only one objective to the season,” you said. “After a match is made, I’ll have no reason to return to Musutafu, unless my husband’s estate is at a close enough remove.”

“I thought you did not mean to marry?” Lord Shouto asked. You almost jumped again when a server reached between the two of you to serve the first course–a pale soup swimming with carrots and rice.

Fuck, that was right. You had said you’d not meant to make a match. “Do not worry, Lord Shouto. You are safe from any attempts on your virtue.”

But Lord Shouto did not look at all reassured by this. “Then you do wish to marry?” he asked.

You did not see a way around answering truthfully. “I–well, yes, eventually,” you admitted. You had at least had hopes at one point, before meeting Lord Shouto, before understanding that no other man might ever measure up. Gentry though he might be, you’d never felt as light-headed, as happy, as surprisingly comfortable in another person’s presence.

You had not meant to feel quite like this about him.

“One day, I should like to,” you said, trying not to sound morose. One day, a long time from now, perhaps you would have enough distance that you might once again find the prospect of another man palatable.

Lord Shouto’s gloved thumb smoothed over your knuckles, and you realized you’d still been gripping his hand. You reluctantly let go, but he seemed to feel no need to move his hand.

“One day and the end of this season sound rather distant from one another,” Lord Shouto said.

You stared into your soup to avoid having to look at him, guilt settling heavily in your stomach. “It is complicated,” you said. “All there is to know, my lord, is that I plan this should be my last season in Musutafu. And that I should like you to think of me fondly, as I shall think of you. For all that you seem to insist on dwelling in darkened rooms, you have been a bright spot in this season.”

You pointedly studied the silverware, wanting to start in on your soup to halt conversation, but found that you could not remember how Caroline had instructed you to dine. Was it outward in, or inward out?

Your hand hesitated over the silverware, and Lord Shouto’s finally rose from your lap to press gently to the outward-most spoon.

“It’s this one,” he said, leaning in. “Outward in.”

That smile was back on his mouth, and it felt both private and conspiratorial, somehow. Like you shared a secret, though the only secret you had, really, was the one that he absolutely could not have known.

“Of course…” you said primly, like you’d just momentarily forgotten. But your heart warmed a little with his assistance and you couldn’t help the smile that wormed its way across your face in answer. “Thank you.”

Lord Shouto’s eyes seemed to linger on your mouth for a long moment, before he murmured, “Anything I may give you.”

And for a minute, it sounded like he meant more than just help with the spoon. Like he was offering something much larger, much more secret.

But of course that was nonsense. You waved him off, answering in turn. “You are kinder than you know, Lord Shouto. I will remember that too, always.”

You started in on your soup, feeling Lord Shouto’s eyes lingering on you still.

But for the rest of the evening, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just had a conversation with him whose parameters you did not truly fathom.

That Lord Shouto knew something he couldn’t.

But it wouldn’t matter, with the season so close so its end. You would just have to last a few more weeks.

THE TERRIBLE EGOIST — i.y

⛤ isagi yoichi x fem! reader

The popular football player rejected you and didn’t expect you to get over him so easily. If you liked him before he can get you to like him again.

cw. smut. unprotected sex. creampie(s). oral (f. receiving). jerk isagi. dub-con. rough sex. pet names (baby, pretty, princess). finger sucking. marking. overstimulation. multiple orgasms + mention of multiple rounds. pussy drunk isagi. college au. intoxication. mentions of alcohol. +18!

wc: 2.9k

Isagi yoichi was the biggest egoist of them all. His popularity of being the best football player on the team at a university he attends and of course his good looks that kept his reputation up and the girls in line. He couldn’t simply ruin that with having girlfriend or anything that had to do with dating. He had only one thing to be stressed about and that was football. Though it sure wasn’t a problem if he just had his fun.

He was use to it, rejecting girls because he wants to focus on his upcoming games and he had no time for relationships. That didn’t stop them from at least trying again once or twice, maybe more than that. No one could get over him, that’d be impossible in his egotistic mind. Even people are to be warned not to be messed with him because he would easily tell you he doesn’t do that kind of “stuff” after just him making out with you 30 seconds ago.

He’s not mean about it though, he wouldn’t tell you to straight up thats he’s just not interested in you instead he says it sincerely even though he knows what he’s doing and how to do it, letting them down easy he knows they always come back anyways. Isagi loathes in the feeling of being adored, if he could get it from his fans he can get it from somewhere else and a different audience. How else could he keep himself entertained with the ladies?

“I really do like you Isagi” Then there was a long pause when you waited for him to answer, he rubs the back of his neck and stares at the ground before he could give you the bad news.

“‘M sorry I don’t really do relationships, I just want to focus on my career and I don’t want ‘dating’ to get in the way of that..we can always be friends though?”

You were confused, you don’t get it? He was flirting and teasing you for weeks. You were hanging out a lot, people would’ve been convinced you both were dating. You never kissed or held hands but surely it had to be obvious. Your friends convinced you that he liked you back, no guy would act that way towards a girl he doesn’t like or wouldn’t want to take things further with? Was he just leading you on?

“Uh..yeah i understand...” you really didn’t, you wanted to ask him why but he would probably repeat what he just said.

Isagi sighs like he has not gone through many let downs and watch the disappointment of his victim. “No hard feelings?”

“Yeah..none”

Then it’s been a week since he hasn’t seen you. Usually they come back in a day or two in his book so why haven’t you? It shouldn’t stress him out about it, it’s just longer than he expected it to be. His stupid ego got the best of him and his way of thinking that he could have every girl begging on their knees for him.

Jealousy bites him in the back when he’s sees you talking to other guys especially the ones on his team, he shouldn’t be jealous? He doesn’t even like you, he’s the one who rejected you so why does it eat at him? He wasn’t focused on anyone but you not paying him no mind, he’ll walk by you expecting to connect eye contact but you’ll be chatting up with your friends like he doesn’t exist. Maybe he could try to get you to like him again to fill his ego, yeah that’s probably it. You guys never made out or had sex, that was maybe the problem and he just had to do that.

You slowly became irritated when he kept trying to talk to you though they were just failed conversations. You didn’t know why he was trying to talk to you and you were trying to avoid him, how else could you move on from him?

He invites you to a party for tonight as a start of a friendship he wanted to build with you hoping you weren’t still upset with him, your friends really wanted to go since his teammates would be there and you agreed taking a chance with Isagi. You had a gut feeling but you didn’t know whether it was good or bad, you just knew something was to come as he grins to himself when you said yes. A scheme he has planned behind his soft smile.

Isagi being an athlete, he wasn’t a drinker though he offered you one, another one, also two more. Honestly you stopped counting after the second. Perhaps it was the alcohol but you started to feel glad that you and Isagi come to an agreement to be friends. Maybe you were too harsh, maybe he genuinely wanted to be friends as you were trying to ignore him this whole time.

The way your hands started to feel clammy because he kept staring at you, you felt as if his gaze your burning into your skin, you felt nervous, rubbing your hands on your dress. Why are you feeling nervous? You don’t like him, well you used to. You tried to push the thoughts away that he is cute, no he was and isn’t still you don’t really like him? You wonder if it was just your drunken mind playing tricks on you or the feelings were coming back again and he can read you good.

“Don’t do that..” he tilts his head at you as if he were oblivious however he knows all too well. “Don’t do what?”

“You’re looking at me like...” you didn’t want to assume or flat out say it, you shrug because you didn’t know what to add on or decide not to jump to conclusions, Isagi laughs to himself.

He’s a good guy with no rude intentions, yet he’s leading you by the hand upstairs in a unoccupied room.

“Why are we in here?” You sat on the edge of the bed watching him shut the door behind him “it’s quieter for us” he sat right next to you, he didn’t leave space between you both he was so close his figure was towering over you and you can feel his body warmth emit on your arm. You don’t know why you didn’t ask him another question about you both here alone when the party is clearly downstairs.

His hand is rubbing your inner thigh, his fingers are carefully slipping up your dress and his lips softly brushes against yours so it wasn’t fully a kiss, you didn’t know if you should so you mutter “I thought we were friends now Isagi”

“We are..unless you like me now..?”

“I-i don’t know…” you rubbed your knees together

“We’ll see” he kisses you roughly, honestly he’s trying to at least bruise your lips. You try to take in as much breaths but he doesn’t allow you to, his tongue blocking your airway in your mouth and your breathing heavily through your nose.

As he’s basically consuming you, his hand that was placed in your inner thigh moved towards to your covered pussy. Your hands grasp his arm to stop his fingers massaging your folds through your underwear. When his lips began attacking your neck you whine out his name when you start to feel the heat increase throughout your body, you felt you were gonna melt.

You smelt good as he placed wet kisses on your neck, sucking lightly on your skin leaving colored hues and moved onto another blank space of your skin he could mark. Isagi never thought it’d be easy to get you here, he might’ve thought wrong that you’d be difficult to get you where he needed you to be and he’s only kissing your neck and playing with your pussy behind your panties.

He presses lightly on it and you let out a shattered breath “Right here?” And he starts to rub your clit in circular motion. If you were sober without an drop of alcohol you probably wouldn’t let Isagi have his way with you, but you’re moaning under your breath, your jutting your hips against his hand, your eyes fluttered when he reaches under you rubbing the outside of your cunt.

Your mind getting slightly fuzzy you decided to fall onto your back on the soft bed when you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. “Come on baby you can’t give up on me now” he takes off your shoes before he climbed onto the bed to spread your legs open.

“I can’t” you shake your head though you’re not kicking back to stop, you let him feel up your sides because his touch is warm and made you feel good, it had to be the alcohol lingering in your system or your feelings for Isagi are starting to come back even though you were helping yourself get over him before you came to this party “I just want you to like me princess” sounding sincere when he places a quick kiss on your lips, he lifts up your dress over your stomach to pull your panties down your hips and off your legs.

He’s caressing your thighs, riling you up and pampering kisses between your inner legs his face drawing dangerously close to your bare pussy. His hands push your thighs nearly to your stomach, giving you a peck on your cunt and the warm wet muscle ghost over your cunt making your breathing harder than it should be.

It was like he was making out with your pussy, his lips and tongue burying deep in your pussylips, his arms were locked around your thighs so you couldn’t pull away, you could only move your lower legs and you writhed on the bed in bliss and constantly moaned his name. “Ah! Isagi!..hah!” You could be as loud as you wanted because the music was loud enough to hide your pathetic whines.

Your hands grip the sheets underneath you until his tongue flicked your clit, sucking on it slow your hand reaches for his dark hair, your fingers tangling through his locks at the top of his head. “Oh-my g-ah!…” you sputtered, he’s still eating you out like a hungry man.

He’s lost into licking and sucking on your sweet pussy, your fingers tugging on his hair and moaning his name is making his dick hard, he’s growing amusement of his licks that are long and slow, dragging up on your clit and his lips wrap around it. Your hips are moving up and down, grinding on his face. If he could have you sit on his face he would but he needed you to cum, cum on his lips.

You started to become more squirmy when you feel your cunt twitch and your clit burning to cum when he sucks harder. Your hand through his hair tightening and your moans were becoming high pitched.

You rolled your head back moaning his name when you feel yourself cum on his mouth, his lips wouldn’t detach from your fluttering pussy and continued to use his mouth until he was ready to be done. After a bit though he didn’t want to work you up on another orgasm so he halted himself from eating you further more.

“You taste so good princess y’know that?” He comes up on top of you and to offer you a sloppy kiss whilst he’s unbuttoning his pants to pull out his hardened cock. You brought your hands behind his neck to keep kissing you more, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue. you were already defeated when you first came into this room and you let him feel you up, you wanted to beat yourself up for it but you’re too dazed out of your mind to care, kissing Isagi now when you never got to before, you just wanted him in the moment.

Isagi gave himself a couple strokes, he opens your legs for more entry and with no warning your tight walls are being pushed aside by his cock when he slowly sheaved himself in, you gasp loudly by the disturbance of his dick intruding your pussy. Your breathing was shaky and Isagi hisses when you grip him tight and didn’t bother giving you a chance to process his dick inside you when he starts his hungry thrusts.

“Isagi-”

“Sorry princess..i gotta fuck you now” he was so harsh and fast, he was bullying you. The egoists cock was rubbing so relentlessly in your pussy, you’re moaning so much and each time he makes sure he slams his cock deep. He squeezes your tits and he wasn’t soft with them either, he was kneading them in his hand like hard dough.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you and here I thought you didn’t like me anymore..do you like me now? I know you do” you didn’t have to say yes, he already answered for you, you were too overwhelmed to speak though you could whine with your fingers slightly over your mouth so you could breathe.

He moves your hand out of your face as his thumb slips between your lips into your mouth, the pad of his thumb pressing down on your tongue. “That’s it baby suck on it” your lips wrap around his thumb just like how he had demanded.

You hummed with his thumb in your mouth, batting your pretty eyelashes at him and he grits his teeth with his stamina rising even more from the way you look at him, like you were purposely doing it to get him to fuck you even harder like as he was pounding into you anyways. He couldn’t let you get to him, it had to be the other way around.

“Looking at me like that pretty?-ah!” His cock jerked inside, knowing he was about to release his cum the more he constantly pushed his dick in and out of you. His jaw hung open, panting and moaning when he feels his nerves on fire. As you were about to touch yourself he rubbed your clit with his wet thumb that was settling in your mouth so you both can cum together.

“‘m gonna cum! ‘m gonna cum Isagi!” Isagi is so rough with you, him adding onto more to build your orgasm intensively circling your sweet bud.

Shock takes over his face when your legs wrap around his waist and you pleaded him “please cum inside me! Please Isa-!” Did you just beg him to? He was going to anyway though he didn’t expect you to practically be desperate for it that your legs are secured around his waist. Fuck, why did his heart just sink?

“Y-yeah, I’ll cum right in you, just for you princess” he growled, his last thrust he sunk deep into your spasming walls and his pushed down on your clit. Your eyelids twitched feeling his cum empties in your womb, your body quivered, it felt like stars were floating everywhere around you. “‘ts feels good..f-feels ‘s good” you whined.

Isagi bit his bottom lip gazing at your pretty tired face, This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he couldn’t keep up his ego anymore. He grew hard again and the only thoughts running through his head was wanting to fuck you again.

How long has it been? Two, four rounds, more? Both your bodies would completely stripped off of clothes, sweat mixing together that his hair was slightly damp. The music still booming loud as ever outside meaning people were still here which you both had completely forgotten since you were both gone into drowning in pleasure. Isagi is still in between your legs, pounding into your swollen pussy that had a brimful of his cum because he came so many times like he was still a starving caveman needing more.

Isagi is so deep into your pussy he forgot what was his motive the whole time, you’re mewling for him to stop but damn you look so pretty, why did he reject you again? He couldn’t even remember anything before he got into this room with you because of the delight of your hot cunt had him hooked. His arms beside your head as he watched you cry from the sensitivity of your previous orgasms he drew out of you. His heart fluttering in his chest when you wrap your arms around his neck and whimper his name.

You both couldn’t think correctly but just thinking about how much it feels like heaven and the need to cum again.

“‘m about to cum again Isagi!” You repeated again before, He nodded while he was also cum again and damn he was so out of energy of pulling orgasm after orgasm, his breaths were shattered, his thrusts were sloppy. His tongue hanging from his mouth like he had fight to finish. “‘m cumming too-fuck!” Another addictive feeling washing over you both at the same time, once again he gives you another bundle of his cum.

Isagi finally caught his breath and noticed your leg’s couldn’t stop trembling. “F-fuck Isagi, I’m shaking…” you murmured. His stomach was in knots and not because he had just came but he was going against his own rules he made up the beginning. His evil scheme had failed when he came down to kiss you again but it was softer, didn’t bother pulling out, he rose back up with straight up determination in his eyes.

“Be my girlfriend..”

Draco Malfoy [Rottenherbs masterlist ₊⊹]

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ [HP masterlist] ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A Promise Worth Keeping (꩜ At the final quidditch match of the season, you take a serious blow enshrining a win for Slytherin; but a certain blonde haired seeker makes sure to check on you in the infirmary // 1.7k // Fluff! Mention of Injury and blood) Seating Arrangement (pt.2) (𖦹 Late to potions and the only seat left was next to Malfoy. Were you able to keep up with the Slytherin prince or will this ruin any chances of a good first impression? // 1.2k ) Overprotective ( ꩜ toxic! Draco getting jealous over his Ravenclaw! reader girlfriend // 595 // Possessiveness, Public altercation) Trouble In The Library (𖦹 You liked helping your friends with their class work, but Draco saw it differently // 1.3k // Fluff, Slight Angst, Crying) Swapping Secrets and Spit (NSFW) (꩜ You and Draco were notorious for meeting up for only moments to exchange information. You helped to let him know what Harry was up to, and he let you know exactly how to get an Outstanding on your potions exam. But would your feelings end up pushing him away or starting something exciting? // 2.9k // Sexual Content, Cock Teasing, Oral stimulation (f/m), Face Fucking) “I will get him to smile again” (pt.2) (𖦹 Draco isn’t looking too good. He’s been withdrawn for a while with his fight and continuous secrets he will have to keep in the upcoming year. You make it your personal mission to bring back his smile// 824 // Pining, flirting) The Muggle Way (꩜ muggleborn!fem!reader and Draco moving in together in their established relationship // 658 // Fluff ) Rest ( 𖦹 Sleepy Draco falling asleep on reader // 685 // Fluff, sweet intimacy) The Hound (꩜ fem!reader heading to bed after a shower, and she sees Draco on their bed moving his Patronus around the room // 1k // fluff) Christmas with Muggles (𖦹 Draco being girlfriend!reader’s date to her work’s Christmas party that is full of muggles // 2k // Muggle! adult life, Fluff) NYE Headcanon (꩜ HP golden era new years eve headcanons with reader) A Couple Firsts (𖦹 “You just need a strong lead” // 1.5k // Yule Ball!) Secret Relationship! HC (꩜ Headcanons having a secret relationship with Draco) Secrets of Prefects (𖦹 You and Draco share a secret, passionate relationship while pretending to hate each other in public. As your connection deepens, you both struggle with the tension between your forbidden desire the consequences of keeping your affair hidden // 2.3k // Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers, Secret Affair, Making out, Pining) Clouded Sunrays (꩜ draco x hufflepuff!reader // grumpy x sunshine // 2k Dreamweaver (𖦹 Draco Malfoy begins dreaming of a girl he’s never seen before. At first, it’s fleeting. Then it becomes constant. He’s never spoken to her in real life—or seen her for that matter — he’s sure of it. So why does she feel more real than anything else? // 3.2k // Time Split, Slowburn, Angst)

Expiation - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Even after slaying the High Kingdom's greatest enemy and sparing its people from a terrible fate, Shigaraki Tomura's past crimes make him an outcast in the castle. Still, someone has to attend to him, and that someone is you -- and unlike the maids who came before you, you're not afraid to ask a question. (cross-posted to A03)

This is a birthday gift for @sophsiaaa based on a suggestion of a fantasy AU Shigaraki x reader. Happy birthday (although it's definitely a bit late)!

You hear the rumors long before you see him, but the story of his arrival is told to you so many times that it’s etched into your head. It was a beautiful spring day, the fields surrounding the castle bright with wildflowers, the air humming with butterflies and bees – the kind of day on which nothing bad is allowed to happen. And then the world went still. The sun seemed to dim. The air fell silent, empty of insects and birds, and even the flowers cringed away as he led his horse past, walking so slowly that it seemed he knew his presence poisoned the world, and reveled in it. The dark knight, the one they call the White Death. Shigaraki Tomura.

The rumors are terrible, and most of them are true, but no one finds the High Kingdom unless they were meant to be here. You remember the day you stumbled out of the Forest Perilous, last of a party of dozens who had all set out together, the only one to reach the castle. The castle chose you, the same as it chose everyone born outside the walls who now resides within. The same is true of Shigaraki Tomura – Sir Tomura, or Lord Tomura, anything but the dread title he’s earned on the battlefield. There is some purpose to his presence here, although neither you nor anyone else can imagine what it is.

Most knights come to the High Kingdom with squires and servants, hauling supplies and gifts and finery to please the king. The White Death comes alone, and bears no gift – no gift other than the one he’s rumored to have tossed at King Izuku’s feet. That rumor is terrible, too. But it it’s true, it means that Shigaraki Tomura crossed a line no one else had dared to touch – in taking on the King’s fated enemy, the man prophesied to destroy the High Kingdom, and slaying him himself. Tearing down his armies himself. Singlehandedly wrecking a prophecy that has hung over the Kingdom’s head since it was first spoken, a prophecy of death and destruction that would bring a mighty kingdom to its knees.

And you suppose it did. After all, the prophecy, never said it would be your kingdom that fell.

King Izuku offers Shigaraki Tomura a seat on his council, over the objections of the rest of the council. Shigaraki Tomura accepts. And then the question turns to where he should be house, and what level of opulence is appropriate for his room, and because the gods hate you or because you’re just unlucky, you’re assigned from all the servants to help him decorate it. To create a dwelling space fit for a hero, meant to house someone who cannot be called anything but a villain.

You knock hesitantly at the door, struggling to balance the heavy wooden chest you’re carrying at the same time. When that fails to produce a response, you call out, your voice thin as it echoes through the deserted wing of the palace. “Lord Tomura?”

The door unlocks with a sharp click, then swings open, and you suck in a breath. You heard he had magic – most in the High Kingdom do, you included – but it’s considered crass to flaunt it for things that could otherwise be done by hand. You step through the door into a large, empty room. The only features in it are a window without a single pane of glass, an armoire with doors gaping open, and a canopy bed bare of both canopy and sheets. The infamous white armor is piled in the corner of the room, along with the white sword his enemies call Decay. The White Death himself sits on the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t look away from the spot on the wall where he’s fixed his eyes. “What do you want?”

“My Lord.” You bow, or curtsy, or do some awkward mix of both at once. It doesn’t matter. He’s not looking at you. “I was sent to help you put your room in order.”

“This is fine.” Shigaraki Tomura’s voice is flat and icy, devoid of anything but apathy. “The window is a nice touch.”

You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. You would be, if you were a knight and not a maid. “The window will be fixed, my Lord. In the meantime, I was sent to arrange the rest of your room. I’ve brought many things for you to choose from.”

“Many things.” He looks up at last, and you catch your breath at the sight of his crimson eyes. It’s all too easy to imagine his enemies freezing in terror, those eyes the last thing they saw before the darkness closed in. “That chest is too small for many things.”

“It’s larger on the inside,” you say. He raises an eyebrow – or he would, if he had them. “Do I have your leave to show you?”

“If it’s the case that you won’t leave me be until you do.” The White Death looks away, and you come a few steps closer. A few steps, and then a few more, until you can set the chest down within his eyeline and kneel down to open it. “What is that?”

“No one could tell me what you preferred, so I brought some of everything.” You were hoping to avoid being berated. You’re starting to think that’s unlikely. “There are sheets for the bed – and choices for the canopy, also. These are for the walls – most knights have tapestries made of your great deeds, but you’ve only just arrived. They won’t be ready for a little while.”

“Great deeds,” Shigaraki – Sir Tomura – sneers. Your ears burn. “Yes, I’m sure the weavers are lining up to chronicle mine.”

“If you say so, my Lord.” You lift out a set of curtains – curtains, for a broken window. Whoever left this for you to deal with, you hope they catch the plague. “Er, the window –”

“I didn’t say so,” Sir Tomura interrupts. You look up at him. “I have done no great deeds. It is no honor to be on your knees at my feet.”

“Pardon me, my Lord. I never said it was.”

You shouldn’t have spoken. You bow your head hastily, but not before you see a flash of interest in the White Death’s eyes. “A punishment, then. Tell me, who did you displease?”

“Nor did I say it was a punishment.” You’ve already gotten yourself in trouble. You may as well explain. “It is my duty to serve the nobles of the High Kingdom. You are one of them. And you’ve done the kingdom a great service.”

“I didn’t do it for you. Or for your wretched kingdom.” Sir Tomura is looking at you, still. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your shoulders, the exposed curve of your neck. “I might have destroyed your kingdom just as easily.”

You know that. It’s why everyone fears him, why a man with a lean, slender build casts such a long shadow. “Then why did you choose his?”

“You both wronged me. He wronged me worse.” Sir Tomura goes silent for a moment, and you dare a glance up at him. His face is still, the sneer long-gone. “And because you wronged me, too, you must suffer my presence. In honor of the great deed I have done.”

Now he sounds bitter, mocking – but not of you. He’s looking at you again. “And what terrible deed have you done, that you do not fear to raise your eyes to me?”

“Is that a requirement for meeting your eyes, my Lord?” It strikes you as an odd thing to say, when any other knight would remark on your temerity at gazing upon any noble’s face. “I did not come here to pass judgment on your deeds. I came to make your room a fitting place for a person to live.”

“Indeed,” Sir Tomura says. “But unlike the five maids who preceded you, you have not fled from the sight of me. Why?”

You would answer him if you knew, but you don’t. The rumors of him terrified you, the same as everyone else. You were frightened as you knocked at the door, frightened when you stepped into the room, and even though he’s weaponless, you have no doubt that he knows dozens of spells that will kill you where you stand. There is no doubt that the man in front of you is the White Death, the terror of battlefields across the known world, the ruination of a kingdom most thought would stand forever and the slayer of a king most thought could not be killed and the destruction of a prophecy that went unchallenged for a hundred years. You should be terrified, just as you were before, and you’re certainly wary. But you aren’t frightened any longer.

The White Death is waiting for an answer. “If I had an answer, I would give it, my Lord,” you say. You look away and begin to unpack from the chest. “Does my Lord have a preference as to colors?”

“No.” Sir Tomura’s voice carries an odd rasp, whether he’s scornful or not. “Do what you want.”

So he’ll allow you to complete your task. You wonder if the five maids who apparently preceded you tried to hold a conversation, or if they simply ran away the instant he opened the door. Some part of you wants to decorate his room in bright colors, something cheerful, but you don’t have the sense that he’ll appreciate it. You’d be better off giving him something to look at, since he spends so long staring off into space. You choose fabrics in muted colors, woven with small illusions here and there, patterns that move and change in response to the human eye. It’s likely that Sir Tomura will spend a lot of time here. He doesn’t seem to like people very much. His room should at least be a pleasant place to be.

When you’ve covered key portions of the walls, leaving space for the inevitable tapestries, you move on to laying out rugs. The stone floors in the castle are cool in the summer, cold in the winter, and Sir Tomura’s feet are bare, his boots kicked into the same pile as his sword and armor. You don’t have as many choices with the rugs. They are nothing but bright colors, woven together from scraps of fabric, and you lay them out hastily, hoping he continues to prefer staring at walls to staring at floors. Then you turn your attention to the armor. It needs to be stored properly, and there isn’t a stand in the room.

You turn to face Sir Tomura and find that he’s already watching you. “If you give me leave, my Lord, I’ll retrieve a stand for your armor.”

“It can stay where it is.”

Most knights pride themselves on their armor. Most pride themselves too much. “Won’t it rust?”

“Until it crumbles away. I don’t care.”

You don’t understand. “Sir –”

“It’s no use to me any longer.” Sir Tomura rises from the bed for the first time and crosses the room, moving with catlike grace. He lifts the breastplate from the pile one-handed and holds it out for you to inspect. You can’t miss the problem – it’s been cleaved almost in two by a single strike, torn apart as only cursed steel can do. “It can’t be fixed.”

“The best smiths in the world work here,” you venture. Sir Tomura scoffs. “They reforged One For All, and that sword was broken into nine pieces.”

“Yes, we’ve all heard the story. Good King Izuku gathered the nine pieces of One For All and proved he was the rightful king.” The disdain in the White Death’s voice is withering. “The rightful king, but not a good one. The king before him was worthless, and the queen before him, too – they let their greatest enemy grow and prosper, throughout their entire reigns.”

“They fought back,” you protest. “Queen Nana was killed fighting him – King Toshinori was badly wounded –”

“And King Izuku never tried,” Sir Tomura sneers. “In spite of their goodness, they turned away. They were too good to do what had to be done, so it fell to me to slay the monster and tear down his throne.”

Sir Tomura wasn’t mentioned in the prophecy. Why would it fall to him? “And look what I’ve done,” he continues. A harsh laugh tears free from his throat. “Spared a kingdom of cowards and fools from destruction they deserve only slightly less.”

The questions bursts out of you. “If you despise us so much, why did you come here?”

“This kingdom owes me a debt,” Sir Tomura says. “I have nowhere else to go.”

You have nothing to say in response to that. You expect Sir Tomura to look pleased at silencing you, but he doesn’t. “Receive a stand for my armor if you wish it,” he says, and you depart, feeling sick to your stomach.

The White Death’s words cling to you as you search for a spare armor stand. What had to be done. What could he mean by that? What would the White Death do that the good kings and queens of your kingdom wouldn’t try? The answer occurs to you at once. Dark magic. Magic that corrupts the mind and soul, magic that leaves cursed wounds and blighted lands in its wake. Of course the kings and queens of the High Kingdom would never do such a thing. But if that was what it would take to end the Enemy’s reign of terror, then maybe –

It’s not your place to decide such things. You find a spare stand in the armory and cart it back to the deserted wing of the palace, only to be accosted on the way by the tailor Hakamada. “You’re attending him? Good. These are for the feast tonight.”

He thrusts a package into your arms, even though your hands are already full. “Ensure he wears them. His presence is an affront, but he’ll be properly dressed if it’s the last thing I do.”

Given that Hakamada isn’t the one forcing the new clothes on Sir Tomura, it’s more likely to be the last thing you do. You set off again, struggling under the weight of both the package and the stand at once.

Sir Tomura seems surprised that you’ve returned, but he doesn’t mock you over it – yet. He allows you to set up the stand, and to begin to store his armor properly, although he refuses to allow you anywhere near the sword. “It’s cursed,” he says, even though you didn’t ask. “Once it tastes a victim’s blood, that person is doomed to wither and rot. Did you know that?”

“I heard rumors,” you say carefully. “There are many rumors about you.”

“They aren’t rumors if they’re true,” Sir Tomura says. “Almost all of them are.”

It doesn’t surprise you that the White Death knows his own legends. “Which ones aren’t?”

Sir Tomura doesn’t answer. He’s investigating the package from Hakamada, which you set down on the end of the still-unmade bed. You, meanwhile, find yourself transfixed by the tear in the breastplate of his armor. It’s been split nearly in half. You lean closer, paper and fabric rustling behind you, in order to peer at the edges of the breastplate, the padding inside, and a needle of shock and fear drives itself through you. All of it is stained with blood. “My Lord –”

You turn to find yourself facing Sir Tomura half-dressed, in clean breeches and bare feet, having just removed his shirt. His bare skin is laced with scars, some old and some newer, but none so terrible as the enormous wound in his chest, so fresh it can barely be called healed. It matches the tear in the breastplate exactly. Sir Tomura glances at the breastplate, then at you. Then he turns away.

“My Lord,” you start, “if you need a healer –”

“It’s a cursed wound,” Sir Tomura says. “It will never heal.”

That was in the prophecy, too – something about a blow from which the victor will never recover. You know it’s half the reason King Izuku held off. He has no heir, nor an obvious successor among his advisors, and everyone assumed the blow described in the prophecy would be fatal. You mind feels frozen, caught between horror and sadness and trapped in confusion. If what everyone says is true, and it is, Shigaraki Tomura is a monster. If what everyone says is true, and it is, King Izuku is a good king. If both of those things are true, then why did the monster fulfill the prophecy? Why has the good king offered him so meager a welcome? You don’t know what to do with the White Death, who saved your kingdom, whose infamous fury has yet to make an appearance since he arrived at the castle.  Neither does anyone else.

Sir Tomura is fumbling with his new shirt, cursing. You abandon the armor and come forward. “May I help, my Lord?”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t refuse, and you take the risk of helping anyway, straightening the useless ruffles, doing up the pearl buttons, staying well clear of the terrible wound. “It takes a monster to slay a monster,” the White Death says, as you smooth out the lines of his shirt. “And now you all must live with the monster that survived.”

He looks down at you, the ghost of the sneer from before distorting his features. “Is that pity I see on your face? Save your pity. It’s useless to me.”

“I don’t pity you,” you say. You can’t – not when he’s done such terrible things, not when you can’t begin to calculate whether what he did in fulfilling the prophecy cancels any of them out. But you do feel something. You can be honest about that. “I was thinking that it was a brave thing to do, my Lord. To face the Enemy when you weren’t the chosen one, and knowing that the consequences were severe even if you should win. That is all.”

A hint of surprise crosses Shigaraki Tomura’s face. “Do the words monster and villain mean nothing to you?”

“They do,” you say. “But I have never seen it written that a monster cannot be brave. Or that a villain must always be a villain.”

The White Death scoffs. “Are you waiting for me to become a true knight?”

“Only as long as you would wait for me to become a fair lady,” you say. “That is to say, a very long time.”

“A long time to become a lady, perhaps.” Sir Tomura extends one hand towards you, slowly, as though he’s expecting you to flinch or bolt. “You were fair before you knelt at my feet.”

You’re not sure what he means to do with his hand, but you reach out and capture it anyway. There’s only one thing you can think of to do, and you do it – bow low over it to kiss his knuckles, just as you’ve seen lords do for their ladies a thousand times. And you speak, words you’re certain no one has uttered since he arrived. “Thank you for what you did. Even if it was not done for us,” you say. “And thank you, too, for saying I was fair. You did not need to say that.”

“I didn’t lie.” Sir Tomura has yet to take his hand back. You don’t know what to do but keep holding it. “It seems that you are in my debt now.”

Just like that, you’re nervous again. You know what knights often ask, or demand, from the women who cross their paths. “How shall I repay it?”

“This feast,” the White Death says. You look up, startled. “You will accompany me.”

“My Lord –”

“Since I have arrived here, no one has met my eyes, nor spoken to me as you have.” He’s averting his eyes from yours now. “I would like to spend one evening in the company of someone who does not find my company torturous.”

“I would, my Lord, but it is simply not done.” You’re surprised at how upsetting it is to be unable to grant such a simple wish. You let go of his hand and drop into a curtsy, replacing the distance that should exist between you, rather than the odd intimacy of the last few moments. “No true knight would bring a servant as his companion to a royal feast.”

“I see,” Sir Tomura says. His hand slips beneath your chin, tilting your face upwards, and you see that same flash of interest in his red eyes. This time it has staying power, as his callused hand molds to the shape of your jaw and his lips curve into the first smile you’ve seen from him. “It’s fortunate, then, that I am no true knight.”

Afterglow

Character: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage, Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser

Content: Blue Lock boys after pound town (tiktok trend)

A/N: A request from my one of my fav moots @captainshindo <3

Warnings: Mentions of sex

     Yoichi Isagi

     You’re sitting across from Isagi in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the hum of low conversations and clinking cutlery filling the space around you. The air is thick with the scent of grilled meat and spices, but all you can focus on is him—slouched in his seat, eyelids heavy, hair still slightly damp from the sweat of what you’d done barely an hour ago.

     He looks exhausted.

     The kind of exhaustion that settles in your bones after giving everything—after pushing, pulling, and losing yourself completely in someone else. His navy-blue hoodie hangs loosely on his frame, collar stretched just enough to reveal the faintest trace of teeth marks near his collarbone, evidence of the way your lips had claimed him. He probably hasn’t noticed, too busy fighting the drowsiness that keeps dragging his head downward, only for him to snap back up again when his chin nearly meets his chest.

     “You look like you’re about to pass out,” you murmur, stirring your drink with a straw, amusement curling at your lips.

     He blinks at you, dazed, as if only now remembering where he is.

     “I’m fine,” he says, though the hoarseness in his voice betrays him. He shifts in his seat, one hand lazily rubbing at his face before reaching for the glass of water in front of him. His fingers fumble slightly, like even the effort of picking it up is too much.

     You bite back a grin. “You sure? You look like you had the life drained out of you.”

     At that, a slow, lopsided smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I kinda did,” he admits, voice dipping into something softer, something just for you. He leans back, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges against yours. “Not that I’m complaining.”

     Your face heats up at his words, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Eat something before you actually collapse.”

     He groans but picks up his fork, obedient for once. You watch as he takes a bite, chewing slowly, his gaze flickering to you in between. There’s a quiet intimacy in this shared space, the remnants of passion still lingering between you, woven into the way his shoulders relax and the way his foot stays pressed lightly against yours.

     Yeah, he’s tired. But he’s here, with you. And there’s something about that that makes your chest feel warm, like the afterglow hasn’t quite faded yet.

     The waiter approaches, setting down a plate of food in front of you both. Isagi lazily thanks him before turning his attention back to you. You notice the way his fingers grip the fork with a little more steadiness now, the small bites he takes as he refuels his drained body. The sight makes you bite back a smirk, he really had no energy left to spare after earlier.

     “You’re staring,” he says between bites, eyes flicking up to yours.

     “So?” you challenge, resting your chin on your hand.

     He swallows, setting his fork down just long enough to rub a hand over his face again. “So, it’s distracting.”

     You raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Distracting from what? Chewing?”

     “Yes,” he mutters, the confession dragging a laugh out of you.

     “Just admit I wore you out,” you tease, nudging his foot beneath the table.

     He exhales a breath that’s almost a laugh, shaking his head. “You already know you did, love.”

     The admission hangs in the air between you, making your stomach flip. He doesn’t shy away from it, doesn’t try to cover it up with some cocky remark. He’s just… honest. Open. Your heart does something stupid in your chest, and you quickly focus on your food to keep from letting it show too much.

     “God, what was I even thinking of letting you ride? You nearly killed me,” he sighed dramatically.

     “Oh, but you enjoyed it,” you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

     He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hm, well… I might just let you do it again.”

     “Oh?” you smirked, leaning in a little closer, intrigued by his sudden change of heart.

     “Yeah,” he nodded, “but only after my soul finds its way back into my body,” he joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

     You catch him stifling a yawn behind his hand, and before you can stop yourself, you let out a quiet chuckle. Then he lets out another yawn, barely covering it with his hand. “I think I’m gonna just pass out here. Wake me up when it’s sunset, yeah?”

     You snort, flicking a stray napkin at him. “Not happening. I’m not carrying your heavy ass home.”

     “You could try,” he mumbles sleepily, already slouching further into his seat.

     You shake your head, watching as his head starts to dip again. “Fine, but if you snore, I’m filming it.”

     Meguru Bachira

     The restaurant is dimly lit, buzzing with soft chatter and the occasional clatter of dishes. You sit across from Bachira, who is currently melting into the booth like a man who’s just ran a marathon. His cheek is squished against the cushioned backrest, golden eyes barely open as he stares at the menu, though judging by the way his pupils aren’t even tracking the words, you highly doubt he’s actually reading it.

     He lets out a long, dramatic sigh and slouches even further, which you thought was physically impossible until now. “M’too tired to read. You pick.” His voice is thick with exhaustion, slow and slurred like he’s seconds from passing out on the table.

     You scoff, flipping through the laminated pages. “You’re the one who insisted on coming here.”

     “Didn’t think you’d drain my stamina that much before we got here.” he mumbles, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges yours.

     You roll your eyes, pretending not to feel the warmth creeping up your neck. “Quit being dramatic, you’re acting like you just did a whole workout.”

     “I did,” he insists, lifting his head just enough to look at you before flopping back down. “A very, very intense one.”

     “You sound proud.”

     He grins, not even denying it. “Well, yeah.” Then, he waves his hand. “Give me your hand.”

     You arch an eyebrow, but give in, letting him lazily play with your fingers. His thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, his touch featherlight, but there’s a sort of intimacy to it that makes your stomach do an embarrassing little flip.

     “You’re ridiculous,” you murmur.

     He pouts. “You love it.”

     You do. But you’re not about to give him that satisfaction out loud, so you just shake your head instead.

     The waiter comes by, eyeing Bachira with slight concern, probably wondering if they need to call emergency services for the half-conscious man draped over the table like he’s just fought for his life. Bachira somehow musters enough energy to order something simple, though you’re pretty sure he just pointed at a random item on the menu. The moment the waiter leaves, he groans and drops his forehead against the back of your hand, exhaling loudly.

     “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

     “Mmm,” he hums, muffled against your skin. “No promises.”

     You sigh, but your other hand moves on its own, fingers combing through his damp hair, still messy from earlier. He exhales again, this time with a content little sound that makes you freeze because oh no, that was cute.

     “You’re so spoiled,” you mutter.

     He cracks an eye open, smirking. “By you? Yeah.”

     You smack his forehead lightly, and he laughs, though it quickly turns into a yawn.

     It doesn’t take long before the food arrives, and you thank the waiter while Bachira blinks at his plate like he’s not sure what it is or how it got there. He picks up his fork, twirls it between his fingers, then—

     —immediately drops it with a clatter, staring at his own hand in betrayal.

     “Honey,” he says gravely. “I can’t hold things.”

     You stare at him. “What.”

     “My arms are dead. My fingers? Jelly.” He lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers dramatically. “Look at this. I have no grip strength left.”

     “Oh my god.” You stare in disbelief.

     “This is your fault.” He insists, and your mind wanders back to how he worked you with his hands for what felt like hours before you got here. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands at the thought. You broke your man. All for an orgasm. They were great orgasms but still.

     “Do you want me to feed you?” You offer, feeling slightly guilty.

     He gasps. “Would you?”

     You were joking, but now that you see the way his eyes are lighting up, you realize you’ve made a mistake.

     Before you can retract your words, he’s already leaning forward, mouth slightly open, waiting.

     “…I regret everything.”

     “C’mon,” he sing-songs, grinning like an idiot. “Say ‘ahhh’ for me first so I don’t feel weird about it.”

     You grab a fry off your plate and shove it into his mouth to shut him up. He hums happily, chewing like a satisfied child.

     “This is amazing,” he sighs, slumping even further against the booth. “I should let you ruin my stamina more often.”

     You nearly choke on your own food at what he said. You grab a napkin and dramatically press it against your forehead like a distressed Victorian widow. “I can’t do this.”

     “Yes, you can.” He nudges your knee with his foot again. “You love taking care of me.”

     “Debatable.”

     “You’re still feeding me.”

     Ugh, he’s right.

     He grins triumphantly, but it’s quickly interrupted by another yawn. His eyes are drooping again, and you can already tell he’s not going to last much longer.

     “Meguru, if you fall asleep in your food, I will take pictures.”

     He waves a lazy hand. “That’s fine, just make sure you get my good angles.”

     You stare at him in disbelief before shaking your head, picking up another fry to pop into his mouth before he actually does pass out. Yeah. He’s definitely not making it through this meal awake. You place a chaste kiss on his cheek as he snores.

     And honestly? You don’t mind.

     Hyoma Chigiri

     You’re sitting across from Chigiri in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the air rich with the scent of sizzling meat and freshly baked bread. The dim lighting casts a soft glow over the table, reflecting off his crimson hair, which is slightly disheveled—strands sticking to his damp skin, the aftermath of everything you’d put him through just an hour ago.

     He looks done.

     Not just tired—wrecked. Like he’s been through a battle and barely made it out alive. His normally graceful posture is completely gone; he’s slumped in his chair, arms sprawled across the table like he physically can’t hold himself up anymore. His long legs stretch out beneath the table, one foot lazily nudging yours as if he can’t even muster the energy for a proper kick.

     “You good over there?” you ask, taking a slow sip of your drink, watching him with thinly veiled amusement.

     He exhales, blinking at you like you’ve just pulled him out of a deep trance. “I think you ruined me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, thick with exhaustion.

     You smirk. “You’re acting like I made you run sprints for three hours straight.”

     Chigiri groans, dragging a hand down his face. “That would’ve been easier.”

     You chuckle, setting your glass down with a quiet clink. "Oh? Are you saying I’m worse than your training regimen?"

     Chigiri gives you a deadpan look, but there’s the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I’m saying I might need a recovery period before I can walk properly again."

     You hum in mock consideration, reaching for a fry from the basket between you. "There’s a reason why you stretch before doing stuff. Maybe you should’ve done that"

     His ears flush pink, and he exhales sharply, shaking his head. A smirk falls on his lips as he sends you a look. A look that got you two here in the first place.

     “Is that why you’re doing alright? Because I stretched you out so good?”

     Now it’s your turn to be flustered. “H-Hyoma!”

     Well, you can’t deny it. You stammer as he lazily steals one of your fries, though it takes considerable effort, his hand moving slower than usual. You watch as he chews, blinking like he’s on the verge of passing out right then and there.

     The restaurant hums around you, the low murmur of conversations blending with the occasional clatter of plates from the kitchen. Outside, the neon lights of the city flicker against the glass windows, casting a soft glow over Chigiri’s already exhausted face.

     He stares at his drink for a long moment before frowning. He groans again, tilting his head back against the seat. "I’m not sure I have it in me to get up."

     “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before bending me over.” You shrugged, a sly grin on your face as you sipped on your drip.

     "I hate you."

     "That’s not what you were saying earlier.” You tease, “Should I jog your memory again?”

     "Again?" he nearly shouted. "I don't think I can handle that for a while. Give me three to five business days."

     “Yeah right, I give it less than twenty-four hours before you’re begging me to let you do me.”

     His lips part like he wants to argue, but all he does is sigh, shoulders sinking further into his seat. He doesn't need to say it—you both know the truth. Instead, he rubs his thumb over your hand, lazy and affectionate, before stealing another fry.

     Rin Itoshi

     You sit across from Rin at the dimly lit restaurant. Your legs feel weak, a pleasant ache lingering in your thighs, but it's nothing compared to the exhaustion practically radiating off Rin.

     His teal eyes are half-lidded, and his usually sharp expression is softened by fatigue. He leans against his hand, fingers buried in his dark hair, as he stares at the menu like it’s some unsolvable puzzle. Every now and then, his gaze flickers toward you, as if blaming you for his current state.

     “What?” You blink at him stupidly.

     Rin exhales through his nose, not dignifying you with a response. Instead, he lets his head rest against the back of the booth, eyes closing for a moment. The rise and fall of his chest is steady, controlled, but you can tell that he’s drained. You did that. Hehe. Wait, oh my god, you did that to him. The thought makes warmth creep up your spine.

     “Maybe you should’ve paced yourself,” you tease, flipping through your own menu. “Not my fault you can’t handle a few rounds.”

     His eyes snap open, irritation flickering across his face, but there’s no real malice behind it. Just a grudging kind of admiration, hidden beneath layers of stubbornness. “Shut up,” he mutters, voice rough, as if he’s still recovering.

     You bite back a laugh. It’s rare to see him like this—unguarded, spent, completely at your mercy in a way that isn’t physical but still intoxicating.

     The waiter arrives, and Rin straightens, but there’s a sluggishness to his movements. You order for yourself, then glance at him expectantly. He sighs before muttering something about just getting whatever you’re having.

     “Too tired to decide?” you hum, resting your chin on your palm.

     Rin glares, but it lacks its usual bite. “Too tired to deal with you,” he corrects, rubbing a hand down his face.

     You grin, satisfied, and reach for your glass of water. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

     And from the way Rin looks at you, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, you know that’s exactly what it was.

     You glance over at him, your fingers tapping against your own glass. “So,” you start, breaking the quiet, “how was that game of yours today? You actually manage to score this time?”

     His eyes narrow slightly, but the smile on his lips is knowing. “Of course. Not that you’d understand the level of skill it requires.”

     You arch a brow, leaning forward a little. “Excuse me? I could totally play circles around you.”

     “Sure, you’d be great at running interference. ‘Oh no, I can’t block, I’m too cute, please don’t hurt me!’” he mocks you.

     Your eyes narrow, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to slap you.”

     Rin winces dramatically, then leans back with a smirk. “I don’t think you could handle me one-on-one. You’ve already proven you’re not great with stamina.”

     “Oh? You’re one to talk. Don’t make me remind you how well I can handle my stamina against yours.”

     Rin coughs, his face flushing slightly, but he recovers quickly. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

     “I’m insufferable? Is that why you were trench deep in me a few hours ago?” You smirk, taking another sip of your water.

     He scowls, but there’s a certain softness behind it. “That’s enough conversation, shut up. I’m exhausted.”

     “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before deciding to go for as long as you did.”

     Rin’s expression darkens with what could almost be called a glare, but it’s too tired to be truly threatening. “Don’t even start. Do you think you have more endurance than I do?”

     “Mhm, I would prove it to you again but,” You lean in a little closer, smirking. “I don’t think you can handle another round of me just yet.”

     “You talk a lot for someone who’s too tired to even sit up straight.”

     “Well, maybe I just enjoy teasing you.” You lean back.

     The waiter comes back, placing your food in front of you. You immediately dig in, savoring the taste. Rin follows suit, though he’s still slower than usual. You catch him glancing at your plate from the corner of your eye, a barely concealed hunger in his gaze.

     “Are you still hungry?”

     He looks up, and this time, his glare is sharper. “I’m not that weak.”

     You smile and slide your plate closer to him, just out of reach. “Sure you’re not.”

     Rin narrows his eyes at you, then at the plate. It’s clear he wants it, but his pride’s getting in the way. The tension is palpable as he debates internally, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “Just take it,” you say, amusement coloring your voice.

     He glances at you, his lips twitching into a grin. “Fine, I’ll take it, but only because I’m too tired to argue.”

     “Ah, see? You do know when to give in,” you say triumphantly, handing it over.

     “Don’t make me remind you how easily I can make you give in.” He threatens, but you hope it's a promise.

     Seishiro Nagi

     It’s a quiet evening at a small, intimate restaurant nestled between two towering buildings. The dim light casts a soft glow over the wooden tables and delicate plates of food. The quiet hum of conversations fills the air, but the two of you are wrapped in a peaceful bubble of exhaustion. You can still feel the lingering heat from earlier, the way his skin pressed against yours, the feeling of his hands tracing patterns along your body.

     Seishiro Nagi sits across from you, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he rubs at them lazily. His eyes flicker to you briefly, but they don’t seem to fully focus. There’s a soft, tired smile playing on his lips, the kind that lets you know he's content, but at the same time, it's clear he’s almost struggling to stay awake. You can’t help but chuckle softly at his state.

     "Hey, Seishiro..." you say, leaning across the table just enough to catch his attention. His eyelids flutter, and he blinks a couple of times, as if trying to summon the energy to keep them open.

     "Yeah?" His voice is hoarse, low, and barely audible. It’s clear that he’s fighting sleep, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

     “Are you okay?” You ask.

     “Mhm,” he replies, his voice raspy. "Just never had someone wear me out quite like you."

     Your heart skips a beat at his words. The casual tone in which he speaks holds a sincerity that’s hard to ignore. The two of you had just come from your apartment, tangled up in each other in ways that left you both breathless and sore, and now, here you are, in a cozy little restaurant, trying to gather yourselves.

     "Oh, um. You’re not falling asleep, are you?"

     He shakes his head slowly, but you can see the effort it takes to do even that. His eyelids slide shut for a brief moment, and you can practically hear the exhaustion in his sigh.

     "I'm fine," he mumbles. "Just... really sleepy..." His voice trails off as his head lulls slightly to the side, before he catches himself, blinking rapidly to stay alert. You watch him for a few seconds, amused, as he fights the pull of sleep.

     "You sure we should’ve come out to eat?" you ask. "I can’t help but feel like you’re about to face-plant into your food."

     "Maybe..." he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded. "But the food here’s good… 'sides, I want to be here with you."

     Your stomach fills with butterflies at that, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. Despite his exhaustion, he’s always thinking of you. He makes sure you’re okay, that you’re happy, even when his own energy is completely drained.

     “Okay, but next time, we’re definitely staying in,” you tease, leaning back in your chair. “You look like you could fall asleep any second.”

     He smiles lazily, not bothering to fight it. His head drops forward for a brief moment before he jerks back up. "Nah... I’m fine..." But even as he says it, you can hear the faint slurring in his words.

     You decide to let him off the hook. The waitress comes by with your food, and Nagi lifts his head slightly as she sets a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him. His eyes widen momentarily at the scent, but they immediately begin to droop again as he lets out another long yawn.

     "Ramen," he mutters to himself, poking the noodles half-heartedly with his chopsticks. “S'good, I’m sure. Just... I’m gonna... just eat a bit."

     You watch as he takes a few bites, each one slower than the last. His head sways a little as if he’s on the verge of tipping over, and you can’t help but feel a sense of endearment well up inside you. There’s something almost too cute about how he’s always so completely and unapologetically tired.

     "Seishiro," you say softly, reaching across the table to gently touch his arm. "C’mon, let’s just go home. You look like you need a nap more than food right now."

     He stirs a little at the mention of sleep, finally looking up at you with that same, sleepy smile. "No... I want to... eat it myself..." His voice barely rises above a whisper. But after a few more bites, his resolve crumbles.

     “Alright, alright," you say, moving your hand to cup his face. His cheek feels warm under your fingers, the soft skin giving way to the faintest stubble. "You should nap after though. You’ve earned it."

     You offer him a gentle smile, one that conveys everything you’re feeling. The tenderness, the affection, the adoration. He closes his eyes at that, his shoulders sinking further into the chair, his body going slack with exhaustion. A few seconds later, he’s practically dozing, his chopsticks still loosely clutched in his hand, hanging precariously near his bowl.

     It’s not long before you’re the one gently guiding his head to rest on your shoulder. He lets out a soft, content sigh, his body softening into you like a piece of clay, finally free from the constant pull of the world. You shift your arm around him, letting him lean into you as you pick at your food, savoring the flavors but most of your attention on the sleepy, warm figure next to you.

     "How do you always manage to make everything feel so peaceful?" you murmur to him, though he’s half-asleep and doesn’t respond. You don’t need him to. His quiet presence is enough.

     Reo Mikage

     The quiet hum of the restaurant surrounds you as you sit across from him, your heart still racing from the moments shared just hours ago. The dimly lit space feels cozy, and you can't help but grin at how relaxed Reo looks, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the weariness of the afternoon. Normally, he’s composed of confidence, like a guy who could tell you the meaning of life while simultaneously solving a Rubik's cube. But now? Now, he looks like someone who just tried to run a marathon, got distracted by an ice cream truck, and then took a nap halfway through.

     His posture is slouched, his shoulders are practically begging for a pillow, and his eyes are half-lidded with a satisfied haze that matches your own. There's no trace of his usual high-strung self. Instead, there’s a vulnerability in the way he lounges in his chair, as if the very concept of sitting upright is an effort.

     He runs a hand through his hair with slow deliberation. You smile, watching him. It's kind of adorable how tired he looks. You’ve always seen him as the guy who has everything under control, but right now? Right now, he’s more like a human noodle.

     The waiter places two glasses of water in front of you, his smile polite but with just a hint of curiosity, like they're trying to figure out if the two of you are on a first date or if something more... intimate... just went down. You can’t blame them. Reo looks like he might collapse into a puddle any second, and you’re still glowing like you’ve just won an Olympic medal in... well, let’s say “passionate hugging.”

     "Are you alright?" you ask softly, leaning forward just enough for him to hear you. His gaze flickers to meet yours, and a low chuckle rumbles from his chest.

     "Can’t believe you’re the one who’s asking me that," he murmurs, his voice rough in the way people sound when they’ve just done something that requires a lot of energy. "I’ve never been so tired in my life."

     You can’t help it. The laugh that escapes you is soft, affectionate, and a little too amused.

     "I don’t mind," you reply, your tone teasing. "I kind of like seeing you like this."

     He raises an eyebrow at that, lips curving into a slow smile, the glint in his eyes now a little more playful. He leans back in his chair like he’s got a question to ask, but it takes him an unusually long time to find the energy to do so.

     "I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried that you enjoy this version of me," he mutters, his hand dragging over his jaw like he’s thinking of adding a full-body stretch to the mix but ultimately decides against it.

     "You’re cute when you're tired," you say before your brain can catch up. The words slip out like they’re your new favorite outfit. Reo blinks at you for a moment, clearly processing the compliment like someone who’s just been told they’ve won the lottery. And honestly, with that tired smile spreading across his face, he kind of has.

     "Is that so?" His voice takes on a slightly deeper, amused tone, as he leans forward just enough that you can feel his presence press down on you. But not enough to touch. He’s definitely holding back, probably saving up that last bit of energy to make it through dinner without literally falling asleep mid-bite.

     "Yeah."

     "I’m not good at this," he suddenly says, his voice so quiet that it makes you lean in a little.

     You blink. "Not good at what?"

     "Being tired," he admits, his voice almost sheepish. "I’m always on the go, always thinking, always—" He stops, then laughs, like he’s just realized how absurd the whole thing sounds. "But right now, I don’t even have the energy to make a joke or flirt with you. I’m just... done."

     The confession hits you like a slap to the face. This is the Reo Mikage who can talk his way out of almost anything and charm the socks off anyone, yet here he is, admitting that he’s exhausted beyond cognition all because of you.

     You let out a laugh, not unkindly. "That’s actually kind of adorable, you know?"

     Reo sighs, his hand reaching up to rub his temples like he’s holding onto his last ounce of dignity. "I never thought I’d get to the point where I’m adorable when I’m barely functioning. This is new."

     "Okay, maybe next time we can take it slower." You reach across the table and place your hand over his. It’s a small gesture, but there’s something comforting about it. Reo’s gaze softens.

     "I’ll take you up on that," he murmurs, his voice laced with a new kind of tenderness. You were already thinking of next time? The thought made him ache between his legs.

     Reo is doing his best to keep his eyes open, but honestly, you can tell he’s fighting a losing battle. It’s like watching a cat try to stay awake, but eventually, it just gives in to the nap.

     "You’re going to pass out in a restaurant, Reo," you tease him softly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips.

     "I trust you’ll make sure I don’t embarrass myself."

     You smile fondly. "No promises."

     Reo doesn’t respond. His eyes have long since fluttered shut, and his head starts to tilt back. For now, the world can wait.

     Sae Itoshi

     It was a quiet evening, the soft hum of chatter from other diners filling the air, but you barely noticed it. Your mind was still swimming from the rush of what had happened only hours ago, the lingering weight of the experience heavy between you and Sae.

     The two of you had just finished a rather intense bout of passion in the privacy of your bedroom, and while the fire had simmered down, it had left behind a raw, comfortable silence that felt as thick as the air around you now. You sat across from each other at a small table by the window, Sae's face relaxed into something unfamiliar, softer perhaps, but still radiating that effortless cool. Yet, there was an unmistakable tiredness in his demeanor now, a contrast to the usual energy that typically buzzed off him.

     Sae had always been the type to dominate any room, but now, with his legs stretched out beneath the table, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his glass, there was an undeniable exhaustion in his posture. His usual confidence seemed to have slipped away, replaced with a rare vulnerability. You studied him for a moment, his sharp features softened from the wear of the day, the slight crease between his brows as if he was deep in thought or maybe just too tired to think at all.

     You smirked slightly, leaning forward against the table, meeting his eyes. "You alright?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual. You knew him well enough to know when something wasn’t quite right. His body language wasn’t the usual effortless grace; it was more like someone who had just run a marathon, but at the same time, was reluctant to admit it.

     He turned his gaze towards you, blinking slowly as if your voice pulled him out of some trance. His eyes, usually sharp and intense, had softened into a haze of exhaustion, though there was still a playful glint in them.

     "Yeah," he muttered, his voice low and almost drawn out, "Just a little tired."

     "Oh? Is it from what we did earlier?" The teasing tone was unmistakable, but you couldn't help it. It had been wild. Sae had been insatiable earlier, his hands never still, his mouth hot against your skin, and his energy was something else entirely. He fucked you so deep and good into that matress you thought you we’re melting into it. But now, he was the one who seemed to need a rest.

     "Don't remind me," he groaned, leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. His usual air of confidence had given way to something much more human, and that made him all the more fascinating. It was almost like he didn’t quite know how to handle it.

     The waiter arrived at the table, placing your drinks down with a soft clink of glass. Sae barely acknowledged the server, his eyes still closed, his fingers drumming lazily on the edge of his empty plate. You gave the waiter a polite smile before they left, focusing back on Sae.

     "You know, for someone who's so used to pushing limits," you said, leaning in just a little, "you sure look like you're ready to collapse."

     He opened one eye, "I could’ve kept going if I wanted to."

     You tilted your head, studying him as he let out a sigh, the way his broad shoulders sagged as if carrying an invisible weight. "You sure? You seem pretty out of it."

     "I don’t do ‘out of it’," he replied lazily, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. It was the kind of response you would have expected from him, but it lacked the bite it usually had.

     You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, unable to hide your amusement. "Yeah, sure."

     "You think I'm lying?" He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to yours with a hint of challenge, though the weariness behind it was impossible to ignore.

     You shrugged. "Yeah. You look like you’re about to pass out right on the spot.”

     "Yeah, well..." Sae trailed off, looking at you as if he were trying to decipher something. He reached out across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. "Guess you wore me out. But I can promise you, I could’ve kept going."

     "If you say so, Itoshi."

     "Don’t get too cocky now. You’re not the only one who can wear someone out. Should I remind you of what happened on your birthday?" There was still a playfulness there, but it wasn’t quite the same as before.

     “S-shut up…” You mutter curtly. Even remembering what happened on your birthday with Sae made your legs ache.

     But as you glanced up at him again, you noticed that his eyes were now closed. A little snore escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but snicker. Sae Itoshi, the unstoppable force, the man who never showed weakness, he was human after all. He could get tired. He could let himself rest. Even if it was slumping over in his chair at some random restaurant.

     "Well, I guess I really did wear you out," you whispered, resisting the urge to laugh out loud.

     Sae’s eyes fluttered open just enough to send you a sleepy glare. "I’m awake, don’t get cocky," he muttered, but the sleepy tone betrayed him.

     “Yes, sir." You teased, taking a sip of your water as you analyzed his features. Oh, how much you adored him.

     Michael Kaiser

     You lean back in your chair, trying not to giggle too loudly as you glance over at Michael, who’s sitting across from you, looking like he’s about to pass out at any given moment. His hair is disheveled, his shirt slightly untucked, and he’s giving you the most exaggerated, tired expression.

     “Are you okay?” you ask, leaning across the table with a soft smile. You trace the rim of your water glass with your fingertips, watching him as he lazily looks up at you.

     He blinks a few times, as though the question takes him by surprise. Then, as if processing your words, he lets out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

     “Yeah… I’m good,” he says, his voice a little hoarse, though you’re not sure if it’s from the aftereffects of your time together or just exhaustion. His gaze drifts to the menu, but it’s clear that he’s not really seeing it.

     “Did our earlier activities tire you out?” you muse, tapping your chin.

     “How could it not? I had you on that bed for hours.” He shook his head in disbelief at how you expected him to not be exhausted. “Only reason you’re fine is because I let you be pillow princess.”

     “Hey, I didn’t tell you to be so rough though, that was done in your own self indulgence.” You narrowed your eyes at him. How dare he try to blame you?

     Michael looks up, clearly attempting to muster some strength for a comeback, but all he manages is a weak smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Y/n,” he mutters under his breath.

     “Are you saying you don’t have it in you for another around?” you ask with a teasing tilt of your head. He stares at you like he’s about to say something, but then his shoulders droop again as if the thought of moving is a monumental task.

     “Round two?” he repeats incredulously. “You’ve already broken me. What do you want from me, a medal?”

     You chuckle, leaning back in your seat as you give him a playful smirk. “Maybe,” you say before continuing “but, I think you deserve an award for stamina”

     Michael scrunches his nose, clearly starting to get embarrassed, but trying to hide it.

     “I don’t even know if I remember the last few minutes, Micha, you just kept going. Are you human?” You laugh, taking another sip of your water.

     "I came here to eat, not to get all worked up again," he grumbled.

     You flashed him a mischievous grin and winked. "Well, maybe you should've been clearer about what you wanted. I did offer you plenty to consume earlier."

     "Yeah, and you drained all the energy with it," he shot back, barely holding himself together. His breath came in shallow gasps. "Careful, darling. I can have you teary-eyed and screaming again. Don’t talk your way into something you won't be able to handle."

     The thought made you ache between your legs, a burning desire coursing through your body. You had to stop yourself from thinking about it too much, or else you might accidentally kill Kaiser by asking for another round. As much as you wanted it, you knew it would be too much for him in his state.

     "Really? You look like you're about to pass out," you said, raising an eyebrow as you studied his flushed face.

     "Might," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was still a faint glimmer of a smirk on his lips.

     "You know, this is all your fault, right?" you teased, your tone light, but there was a definite edge of playful accusation in your voice.

     "What did you say?" His eyes snapped open at your words, narrowing in your direction as if ready to challenge you.

     "You didn’t have to be so rough," you shrugged nonchalantly, though the memory of what had just transpired made your pulse quicken. "You did this to yourself."

     "As if you'd have accepted anything less from me," he scoffed, his voice hoarse but laced with pride. "Keeping you satisfied is the real workout. The things I do, the way I wreck myself just to make sure you’re pleased..." His words trailed off, and you could feel the smugness in his tone even as he struggled to stay awake.

     "Oh please," you teased, leaning closer, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. "You think I don’t know how high you get from making me see stars every time you make me come undone?"

     A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, but he was already starting to drift. "Hm. I guess we both have our own reasons," he rasped, exhaustion overtaking him as his head lolled to one side, his eyes fluttering closed. You couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he had given in, how the mighty had fallen. His pride might have been unshakable in the moment, but you had a way of bringing him to his knees. You snapped a quick picture, wanting to capture this rare sight of him defeated and completely fucked past exhaustion.

     "Guess we do," you said softly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you admired the man who had given you so much yet couldn’t resist teasing you back.

Tight Black Leathers

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Liam x reader

Warnings: SMUT, mdni, 18+

Summary: As Liam's girlfriend, you've been feeling rather... fed up, lately, that he's been ordered to hang out all day with another female. So... whatever will you do about it?

SR’s Note: Ooh, switching it up with a Fourth Wing fic? Okay, okay... and yes of course, Liam is my favorite character from Fourth Wing. No, I still haven't recovered. No, I probably never will. Denial is a river in Egypt-

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You clicked the power button on your phone once more, checking fruitlessly to see if your boyfriend had responded to your message. Of course, he hadn't -- but you'd expected as much. It was Friday, which meant he was on Violet-duty today, per usual.

With a sigh, you tucked the device into your pocket, zipping it shut as a familiar voice approached behind you.

"Hey Y/N!" Rhiannon's usual bubbly tone made you smile, and she took in your state. Her face softened as she took you in a warm embrace. You appreciated the kindness she offered you -- her friendship was a priceless one you'd made after crossing the parapet. She was one of the only people, other than your boyfriend, who truly understood how hard it was to be a rider when you were meant your whole life to be a healer instead.

"Still haven't heard from him?" She asks softly, releasing you. You shake your head, and she loops her arm through yours, pulling you with her in a cadence down the dormitory hallway.

"Well, there's no point in waiting around doing nothing," she starts. "We may as well have some lunch, hmm?" As if on cue, your stomach gurgles, and you both chuckle at the sound. You truly couldn't be more grateful -- you hadn't eaten all morning.

Entering the cafeteria, you find your squad -- well, most of them. Imogene's unmissable pink hair shakes back and forth as she listens to a ridiculous story Ridoc recounts; Sawyer is laughing at something Bodhi is saying across the table. You can't help but wonder...

"Hey guys!" Ridoc greets Rhiannon and you with a smile, but you only continue to search the tables near you. Imogene folds her arms over her chest, sitting back in her chair.

"He's not here," she says, and you look to her. Rhiannon takes a seat, motioning for you to sit by her, but you only stare at Imogene in hopes she'll keep talking. "Violet took the lunch break to get in extra training time, so-"

You squeeze your eyes shut, head dropping to face the floor. You'd been missing him so much recently, since Xaden assigned him to follow your fellow cadet around like a guardian, you barely saw him anymore. Your own boyfriend. He was spending time with another female. That was really starting to get old.

"Of course." You clip. Ridoc huffs a laugh, and Rhiannon glares at him.

"He's only doing what Xaden tells him-" Bodhi begins, and your eyes slide to his.

"Anymore, I don't really care what Xaden-" Your rage begins to bubble over, and the table falls silent as their gazes drift behind you. Shadows curl around your fists, the cool tendrils working against your warmed skin.

"Care what Xaden... what, exactly? As your Wingleader, I would love to hear you finish that sentence, Y/N." Xaden's lethally calm voice sounds from behind you, and you glance over your shoulder, face falling at the realization. You shake your head.

"I... it's... look, I just think it's a bit much to have Liam following Violet around all day, don't you think? Can't she defend herself?" You ask. His hard gaze on you only intensifies.

"I would say Liam is one of the strongest in this wing, wouldn't you agree?" He asks, and you nod.

"Yes, but-"

"So he will continue to defend what's most precious to me." He says in finality, turning to walk away as you scoff, throwing your hands in the air.

"What about what's most precious to me, huh? I never get to see him anymore because you're always having him whisked away to defend your girlfriend -- isn't that your job!?" You nearly shout. The entire room goes silent, and Bodhi slaps a hand over his mouth. Rhiannon's jaw is practically on the floor, but your eyes are only met with Xaden's searing gaze as he turns to face you once more. He steps close to you, speaking again in his constrained, calm voice.

"I highly suggest you take the rest of the afternoon off, cadet y/l/n. You seem a bit high strung -- wouldn't want you too worked up for the challenges later this evening." The muscle in his jaw ticks as you turn on your heel, beelining for the exit and stomping all the way back to your dorm room.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You know what? Xaden was right. The afternoon off was exactly what you needed before a night full of challenges. You spent the whole afternoon getting yourself more riled up within the confines of your dorm, pacing back and forth and glaring into your mirror. Did you nap? Nope. Try to calm down, do some meditation, maybe? Absolutely not. Perhaps stretch, or read a book so you were at ease before the night began then. Hell no.

You were ripping a brush through your long hair, slamming it down on your desk when you decided the strands were untangled enough. You yanked at the band around your wrist, muscle memory causing your hands to wind your hair into a ponytail atop your head when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You glance down at your phone still dark on your desk, and an idea sparks in your mind. Dropping your hands, you run them through the strands a few times before separating the mass into three sections. Since he likes the Sorrengail so damn bad, you thought. Maybe you'd show him you she wasn't anything special. She was just like everyone else here; she was just like you.

Securing the band at the base of the tight braid, you sway side to side, pleased with the result. Pulling on your tightest-fitting leathers and boots, you sheath your finest daggers and head out of your room. Within minutes, you've crossed the courtyard and are in the training center, approaching a mat near the center where you find Ridoc and Bodhi and Rhiannon gathered. Rhiannon turns when Ridoc whistles loudly at you. You lighten your steps on instinct, realizing you're still stomping your way across the mats toward them.

"Ohhhh my, Y/N," she looks you up and down, taking you in fully. You huff a breath, pretending not to notice her stare. Or Ridoc's. Or Bodhi's. Or Violet's...

Or Liam's. From three mats over.

"New tactic?" Ridoc laughs, and you roll your eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Uhhh, distracting your opponent with the tightest black fighting leathers you could find?" Rhiannon giggles, and you scoff, feigning innocence. Bodhi only groans.

"CADETS, attention please!" Emmetario shouts. He stalks closer to the mat you stand before, calling off more pairs for challenges. You and your friends watch as people fight and wrestle match after match. Rhiannon wins her challenge, Ridoc hands Jack Barlowe's ass to him, and your attention snags on the mat a few feet away as a new pairing is called forth. Your perfect, wonderful boyfriend is taking the mat, shucking off his tee and revealing his perfectly toned body, abdominals flexing as he laughs at something Xaden says. He takes a fighting stance as another guy from third wing stands opposite him, and they begin. It's not long before Liam has the poor fella on the floor, tapping out. Being the kind male he is, Liam hops off and helps him up, shaking his hand and offering him a kind smile after they finish their challenge.

As he is exiting the mat, his eyes meet yours and widen slightly, raking over your body as he slowly steps off the platform. They linger on the straps clinging to the curve of your ass, then trail back up to the form-fitting compression shirt you've chosen and his brows knit in confusion when he notices your new hairstyle. You tilt your chin up and flip your hair over your shoulder, just as Emmetario bellows once more.

"Bodhi and Y/N!"

You walk onto the mat, Rhiannon cheering from the sidelines. Bodhi looks to you in silent apology, and you position yourself close to your friend, taking your beginning stance. You can see the worry in his expression, and you glance to your left as Liam, Violet, and Xaden flank the edge of the mat to observe as well.

"Bodhi, it's alright. I know you won't hurt me for real," You say. He grins at you.

"Never." Is all he says, taking his beginning position, not-so-subtly drinking in your form so close to his. You smirk.

"Begin!" Emmetario calls. Bodhi immediately lunges for you, but you're quick and dodge his advance, and he stumbles forward -- you've trained with him countless times, you knew he'd make the first move. You snake to the side, wrapping your arms around his midsection and using your whole body weight to throw yourselves both to the ground. You cry out as you land on your own elbow, and he tries to roll you onto your back. You dig your heels into the ground, fighting with all your strength to stay to the side of him and not let him get on top. He's stronger though, flipping you with his hands around your knees. You plant both feet in his ribs, knocking into him with as much force as you can muster and he falls back with a sharp cry.

The growing crowd winces and you jump to your feet once more, him following suit and clutching his side only for a moment before charging you once more. You crouch; but you're too slow this time. In seconds, his hands wrap around your waist and your thrown over his shoulder, hands smacking against his back.

You know what comes next -- this is the part where your opponent will throw you onto the mat, onto your back, knocking the wind out of you. You won't let that happen; not tonight. You tap into the rage you felt, all day, all week, and unleash it, feeling every feeling all over again.

Anger. You push against Bodhi, his hands losing grip and you tumbling haphazardly down his back. "Keep pushing, Y/N!" Rhiannon shouts.

Hate. You turn, Bodhi's still doubled over. Now's your chance. You run, jump, cling onto him, grabbing his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist-

Jealousy. It was a ploy. He whips you around, throwing you to the mat, hard. You shriek, breath catching in your throat as he holds you down with his forearm. He gazes down at you, his familiar friendly orbs glowing with warmth as he shifts uncomfortably above you.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N, but... I'll be damned if anyone ever climbs me like a fuckin' tree-" the words die in his throat as your red-hot emotions dissipate, laughter rising and breaking free past your lips as he chuckles along with you.

"I don't care! I said she's done!" The sharp tone has your gaze turning to the left, the crowd making way as Emmetario calls after the tall male entering the mat and heading straight for you. In seconds, Bodhi's weight is completely lifted off of you and you suck in a breath of full, delightful air.

"Yep, and you can stay the fuck off of her, thank you very much," Liam gripes, bending down to grasp both of your hands in his and pull you up. You gasp as pain blooms in your back, and he begins leading you off the mat, away from the crowd. Toward the exit.

"Liam... Liam... I didn't tap out; my challenge wasn't over-" you stutter. He turns, his raging blue eyes narrowed on you. Yours widened in shock as you register an emotion so rare, especially for him you almost missed it.

Sadness.

"Trust me. It was over."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

"Liam, it's only a bruise, it'll be healed in a few-"

"He shouldn't have been man-handling you like that."

You stare at him, pacing back and forth in your dorm room from the bed where you sit. He half carried you back here a half hour ago, ending your challenge early and ignoring orders from a professor in the process. Now he seemed all worked up over your injuries, which were rather minor, at that.

"Like what, exactly? Liam, I've trained with Bodhi a million times. I know he would never hurt me. Not for real, anyways." You say, and Liam meets your gaze. His deep blue eyes are as dark as the midnight sea, only illuminated by the candle lights in your room. He chews on his bottom lip, halting his pacing.

"He trains with you?" He asks quietly. You scoff incredulously, fiddling with the band at the end of your braid and loosening the strands.

"Yeah? He's my friend, Liam. I have to have someone to spar with, right? It's not like my boyfriend is exactly... available..." you trail off, casting your eyes toward the floor. You finish undoing your braid, the strands hanging in loose waves over your shoulders. His brows knot in confusion.

"Y/N, what are you... what do you mean?" he walks close, kneeling before you, placing his hands on your knees. His face is level with yours, and Gods damn you if you don't want to kiss him-

"You know I'm always here for you Y/N..." he says softly. You meet his gaze, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth to keep it from quivering.

"Liam... I barely even see you anymore." Oh boy, here we go. "You always have to be with... with Violet... and if I do see you, it's never in our own privacy... I never just get you alone, to myself..." you trail off. He presses a soft kiss to your knee, and you praise yourself for changing into shorts and one of his big shirts when you returned earlier.

"Baby... you know I just have to hang out with Violet for now, just because of all the attacks and such, but," he places another soft kiss further up your thigh, and you feel your pulse quickening by the second. "...you have me alone... right now, right?" He asks sweetly, his eyes meeting yours again. You lean back on your elbows, and though his tone is sweet, the lust swirling in his irises tells a different story. You nod wordlessly, and he continues moving up your body, softly pushing up the hem of your shirt with his fingertips. His eyes remain in contact with your as he plants soft kisses up your abdomen, the muscles flexing as you fight to remain calm under his searing touch.

He pulls back, lips curing into a wicked grin as his eyes waver to your waistband, and he hooks a finger under the seam.

"If you wanted to be... man-handled... you could have just... asked." He says, your eyes widening at his words. Heat pools between your thighs, the incessant need for your boyfriend to ravage you only growing with every passing second he teases you. He chuckles, slipping a hand beneath the bands of both your shorts and underwear and wasting no time sliding a finger through your folds, easily gliding through the slickness. His lusting gaze meets yours again, and his free hand pushes himself closer to you on the bed.

"Mmm... you really have been missing me, haven't you?" You nod, looking up at him doe-eyed and innocent. He shakes his head, cupping your jaw and running a thumb over your lower lip while continuing to tease your leaking heat with his other hand.

"Such a good girl... I haven't been around as much as I should, have I." He says it more to himself, his forefinger circling your entrance and you rock your hips forward, aching for more.

"I haven't been as good of a boyfriend lately, and I'm sorry for that, okay?" He cups your cheek, and you meet his gaze.

"Liam... please..." you beg.

"Let me make it up to you?" He asks. Your nod of confirmation is all he needs as he slips both his index and middle fingers in -- knuckles deep. You gasp, jolting forward a bit and he pulls out, reinserting and driving them back in again. You bite out a moan, leaning back on your hands and looking up into his eyes. He's smirking down at you, drinking in every inch of your complexion as he massages that spongy spot inside of you.

"Liam..." you chant. "Liam, oh... my..... please-" He rises from his knees on the floor, continuing to curl his fingers inside you, to hover over you. He cuts off your whimpers with a beautiful, bruising kiss that is both sloppy and salivating. A mix of tongue and teeth clash as you make out with a primal need, his teeth finding your swollen bottom lip and playfully latching on. You groan once more, feeling the warm band in your stomach tightening.

"Gods I'm... I'm so-" Liam retracts his fingers and you groan, his lips finding yours again. He shucks his trousers off, kicking his boots off moments later. He breaks the kiss, yanking his shirt over his head and pulling yours off after, your bottoms following. Laying bare before him, he breathes deep, loosing his breath through the nose as he hovers overtop of your naked form.

"Y/N, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he says sweetly. You blush, even though this is the hundredth time you've had sex with the man and probably the hundred millionth time he's called you pretty. You feel his hard on grounding against you, and you wiggle your hips, only creating more friction. Liams hand meets your hip, holding firm.

"Tsk tsk," he says, kissing your nose. His hand snakes between the two of you, his knuckles brushing against your pelvis making you shiver. His fingers wrap around the length of his cock and stroke a few times as he inches closer, and when the head finally makes contact with your dripping core, you whimper.

"Li... please..." He flashes you a devilish grin, his cute dimple warming your heart as your hands find their way to his built shoulders atop you.

"Since you asked so nicely," he says lowly, and pushes into you. You suck in a breath, the small stretch increasingly painful as he continues to push in, inch by delicious inch. The pleasure courses through you when he is finally fully sheathed inside of you, a growl escaping his throat as his hips retract and slam back in with immeasurable force.

"LIAM-" You shout. He pulls his hips back again, only pulling out half way as he continues to pound into you relentlessly, relishing in every breathless moan and scream of his name he can pull from your perfect lips.

"So tight, baby.... my gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he praises. Your hands slide down his tones arms, and the calloused fingers on one of his hands thread through your delicate ones, holding them to the mattress above your head. His breath comes out in short pants, and you let out a particularly sharp gasp.

"Ugh, fuck Liam; just like that," you breathe. His fingers let go of yours and wrap around your lower back, pulling you flush against his chest. HIs pace quickens as your breasts bounce with every quick thrust he delivers.

"You feel so good, Y/N," he says between breaths. His soft grunts almost send you over the edge, the new pace and angle spurring the impending orgasm from within. His warm breath tickles your neck, and his lips find your cheek, placing a single kiss as he continues to savagely thrust into you. "So perfect..." he whimpers.

You can't hold it together long enough to warn him this time as you fly over the edge, your orgasm barreling through you. You cry out, hands tugging on the ends of Liam's hair as your walls squeeze around his throbbing cock that hasn't yet slowed, riding you through your high. Your thighs start to shake, and Liam's mouth drops open as his eyes meet yours once more.

"Oh fuck, Y/N-" he jolts, releasing inside of your pulsing core as his movements begin to slow. Your combined ragged breaths are the only sounds filling the room, and his fingers trace the curve of your collarbone as his eyes lovingly gaze into yours again. You offer him a soft smile in your fucked-out state and he chuckles, slowly slipping out of you and retrieving a cloth from your desk. You move to take it from him, but per usual, he insists on cleaning you up himself.

Ahh, the gentleman he is.

He returns from tossing the cloth in the wastebasket, and you pull his big tee over your head for the second time today. He frowns at you, and shrugs, reaching for his pants and pulling them back up over his hips. He takes the spot on the bed next to you, propping up on an elbow to stare down upon you.

"I meant it," he starts, and you sigh.

"Liam-"

"Really, Y/N. I know its shitty that I have to always hang around with Violet. I know it sucks that it means I have less time with you. And... and I know it isn't your favorite thing. It isn't mine either." He says, taking a strand of your hair and twirling it around his index finger before letting it fall, and going for another piece.

"I know this, and I still listen to Xaden's orders. I know that doesn't make me a very good boyfriend, and I need to do better." He says in finality with a nod. "I'll talk to Xaden in the morning about it." You lean up off the bed, planting your lips on his. His hands cradle the back of your head, kissing you back with all the love he has to give. When you pull away, you know that no matter what, no matter how much or how little time you have together, there's no changing the connection the two of you share.

"Liam, I don't think I could find a better boyfriend than the one laying next to me in this very moment. You're as good as they get, my love."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

YO I LOST THIS BLOG WHEN I LOOKED AWAY AND NOW I CANT FIND IT

Its like the avatar boys in a high school setting and they confess to reader or visa versa if you find it plsssss tag me or send it my way

Also the person page was talking about basketball aonung or something like that

I didn’t even finish it man😫

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Ko-fi

This was tooooo good !!

neteyam + lo’ak + aonung x na’vi!fem reader

✑ three of em’ are age up, pure smut. MINORS DNI! Reblogs are okay.

✑ both of you or just you are about to cum when they noticed someone is coming so they tried to play it cool and warn you while on it

✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃ ✃

❈ Neteyam

The both of you stayed back at the hut, Neteyam fake his illness so he can just have a moment with you. This weeks were horrible for him since he can’t even have a one moment with you without his father dragging him to hunting

“Won’t you hug your legs for me, princess?”

He lick his fingers and slid three inside you, you let out whimper as he finger fuck you again. He really live up to his words when he said that he won’t leave you alone not until he makes you cum ten times

“‘Teyem… I want your cock please”

You look at him with daze eyes and he smirk, about to fuck you with his cock again when he heard noises outside the hut

“Hope his feeling better”

It was his mother’s voice, his eyes drop down at you who is begging already. He let out a growl and told you to sat down beside him, grabbing the cover he use it to cover his whole body and the arm he extended to which he buried his fingers inside you

“This is crazy!” You reasoned out, he suddenly move his fingers inside and made you moan

“Make a noise and I will fuck you in broad daylight”

Was his last warning before his mother came in and he faked a cough

“Y/N! So glad you’re here. Is he feeling any better?”

You were about to answer and Neteyam move his fingers inside in scissor motion causing your breath to hitch

“M-More than ever..”

Neteyam bit his lip to prevent himself on laughing as he felt your glare at him. Ah, how he love to tease you.

❈ Lo’ak

Out in the woods, again. That’s how you and Lo’ak spend most of your leisure time and the both of you really take your time in many good ways

Like how he got you pin on a tree and him pumping his load for the third time now in you, you put your arms around his neck. Placing a kiss on his neck before he hoist you up and began to move again

“Any more than this and I will go crazy, love..”

“And that’s how I like it, c’mon let me hear your voice.”

You press your body towards him as he move, you didn’t even bother being alert around you. Fucking with him outside, it makes you want more.

Lo’ak was moaning with you when he noticed some na’vi in patrol are coming towards where you guys were. He couldn’t stop now, not when you feel so good and chanting his name

“Bit on my shoulde, my love. I will go fast”

He didn’t wait for your response and fasten his pace making you shut your mouth and covering it, your eyes watered and your body began to tremble, Lo’ak let out a hiss when you bite into him and his seed spilled inside you

“Lo’ak? What are you doing in here?”

A na’vi ask him and the man just smiled

“Just taking a walk, y’know away from my father’s nagging”

The na’vi only hum as a reply and excuse himself, Lo’ak parted the leaves that is hiding your body. There you laid, naked. Oh Eywa, his cock is hard again.

❈ Aonung

“Shut up or I won’t let you ever cum!”

Aonung threatened as he went rougher and faster. Your eyes watered, tears threatening to fall and his features immediately soften and have you wrap your legs around his waist. He bend down to kiss you and hush you

“Sorry baby, it’s just the more I hear your voice. The more I want to fuck you rough.”

“So you don’t want to hear my voice?”

You ask and Aonung almost cum when he saw your expression. He flip you, your chest press against the wooden floor of their marui pod. You whimpered when he slid his cock and you can hear the sounds when your skins slap to each other

“Aonung? Mother wants you to meet her..”

Aonung curse under his breath as he stuff two fingers inside your mouth, he moved faster and faster until he spilled his cum inside you not even minding the stinging pain when you bit on his finger

“Tell her I’m coming! I just gotta finish something”

He move away from you and plop down on the side but you crawled towards him, your hands wrapping around his shaft, tongue licking his cock clean. He smirk and caress your face

“Yeah… I gotta finish fucking you until you’re just a dumb bitch just for me.”