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vanilladove · 3 months

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~ valentines with the bsd men!

divider creds plutism

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: various bsd men x gn!reader [dazai, atsushi, ranpo, fukuzawa, nikolai, fyodor, sigma, bram, chuuya, akutagawa, oda, ango, jouno, tecchou]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: fluffy headcanons (some crack hehe)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: none! i also imagine all of them wearing suits🙈

~武装探偵社 armed detective agency

dazai osamu

planned out your valentines day date at work (got yelled at by kunikida)

buys you a nice outfit to match his suit and styles his hair like how it was in the dead apple movie o////o

after dinner, you both go on a moonlit walk around yokohama and stop by the bridge overlooking the river dazai asks you to commit a double suicide

you mostly enjoy each other's company in silence, and dazai just admires you (secretly taking pictures of you under the moonlight)

he whispers sweet nothings into your ear and you find yourselves at the Lupin bar

you both drink too much and show too much pda, giggling through the taxi ride home

you're awaited by a bed covered in rose petals, lingerie/boxers and more sake...🤭

atsushi nakajima

SUCH A FREAKING SWEETHEART

definitely didn't sleep at all the night before bc he was nervous about preparations (i'd like to think you're his first partner :3)

called akutagawa for help but he's also just as single...

ends up making you glitter roses (there's glitter all over his dorm now) and a valentines box filled with your favorite things ♡

he definitely has a cute speech for you about why he fell in love with you and how much he cares for you (one/both of you ends up in tears lol)

you guys end the night with a movie + lots of cuddles!

ranpo edogawa

valentines day is his second favorite holiday after halloween bc of all the candy + sweet treats associated with it

buys enough chocolate and snacks to feed yokohama (most of it is just for his secret snack collection...)

organizes a small at-home date where you both make chocolate-covered strawberries + heart-shaped treats

tried to prepare a romantic speech but it ended up being a 'why you're lucky to have me' speech...

gives you those cheesy 'i love you' candies + candy necklaces

you both get insane sugar crashes and don't even make it to dinner or the special valentines book scene he made poe write for you😔

fukuzawa yukichi

secretly very romantic

he takes you on a private picnic in a sakura tree field (it's literally perfect); you have bentos, plum sake, and daifuku. the cherry blossoms fall peacefully over you two ♡

would write a sweet poem/haiku for you and gift you a lavish yukata

you reminisce about the cute moments in your relationship and stay until sunset

you surprise him by taking him to a cat cafe on the way home hehe

~天人五衰 decay of angels

nikolai gogol

thinks the traditional valentines day norms (chocolate, roses, and dinner) are boring

takes you to an amusement park (bonus if it's valentines-themed) instead

drags you with him on every ride--hopefully, you don't have motion sickness or a fear of heights

you eat so much fair food, and he never misses the chance to lick powdered sugar or cotton candy off your lips

takes you to the games section and laughs at your failed attempts. once you're frustrated enough, he wins even though the games are rigged and gets you a giant stuffed animal

you get matching face tattoos and braided hairstyles (he ends up doing it himself bc he's better than the employees lol)

on the ferris wheel, you both share an intimate kiss and he pulls out some roses (they end up being the clown ones though and splashing water all over your face :0)

fyodor dostoyevsky

asked you to be his valentine with one of those cheesy coding things (iykyk)

plans a romantic tea date for you both with lots of russian treats

composes a piece for you and plays it on his cello (forces nikolai and sigma to provide instrumental support in the background)

spends most of his time talking with you, since he's usually always busy

buys a matching ushanka for you, along with european chocolates, and your favorite flowers

you end up falling asleep in his arms reading together

sigma

this is probably his first valentines day ever so he spent a lot of time on social media to find out what people usually get for their partners

definitely uses the sky casino's amenities to put on an extravagant display for you--dancers/live music, a fancy bubble bath with rose petals + candles, couple's massage

has an intimate dinner with you in his office with the sunset in the background

he gifts you lego flowers that you end up building together and gets flustered if you gave him a gift, too♡

bram stoker

GOTHIC VALENTINES!!!!

takes you to his castle and prepares a fancy royal dinner for you

plays instrumental music from his radio but he didn't pay for spotify premium so you awkwardly listen to ads every few songs...😔

gives you pretty jewelry and black roses encased in glass (beauty in the beast style!)

takes you to the balcony and you both have an intimate night chat, which draws some rare smiles and chuckles from him

softly hugs and kisses you, grateful for your warmth and company will suck your blood if you let him

~ポートマフィアport mafia

chuuya nakahara

the definition of a romantic bf...pls

first of all, you wake up with those gigantic boxes of roses that celebs always get, accompanied by a sweet handwritten letter and a custom outfit for the day

he then picks you up in his helicopter and flies you to a vineyard where you make your own wine and drink one he secretly made for you when you both started dating

at the vineyard, a PRIVATE CHEF cooks a fancy 5-course meal for you both to enjoy, and chuuya insists on feeding you the first bite

expect a lot of heartfelt, drunken speeches and passionate french kisses out of nowhere...

on the ride home, chuuya almost crashes the helicopter bc he's so drunk, but his ability saves you both hehe

he ballroom dances with you until you both fall asleep in each other's arms🥹

akutagawa ryunosuke

like atsushi and sigma, this is his first valentines. he asks chuuya for advice but thinks all his suggestions are corny

he ends up settling on making you some red baked goods with gin's help and dark chocolate candies

writes you love letters since he's secretly embarrassed to tell you outright how he feels

takes you on a beach date and lends you his coat if you're cold (he's secretly colder than you after he dips his feet in the water)

you hold hands and talk for a bit under the moonlight until he musters up the confidence to give you his letters and gifts

your happy reaction is worth it and makes him blush ^o^ he hugs you for a long time after you point it out, partly in embarrassment and partly because he loves you so much

chuuya and gin interrogate him about the date after he comes back lol

oda sakunosuke

picks you up from work with flowers, handmade chocolates, and a cute teddy bear

car makeout sesh before going home while you still have some time alone to yourselves

cooks your favorite meal for you and buys you your favorite alcohol

he and the kids bake + decorate a romantic cake for you (it's lowkey ugly but it's the thought that counts!!!) and decorate the house with heart balloons, cute drawings, and candles

you both eat with all the kiddos and sleep together on the same bed ♡

ango sakaguchi

almost forgot it was valentines day bc he was too absorbed in his work...his assistant had to remind him lol

takes you to a classic fancy dinner & buys you your favorite flowers

gifts you your favorite books and some sexy lingerie/boxers (his assistant probably snuck in some toys

your little date helps him relax for once and takes his stress away

gets clingy the next day and keeps trying to call/text you because he misses your presence (dazai and his coworkers tease him nonstop about it)

~猟犬 hunting dogs

jouno saigiku

guys why are there no valentines day cards for these mfs does no one like them or what

takes you to a secluded place away from his annoying coworkers the noisy city

cooks you dinner and gifts you gold jewelry (likely a matching rope bell earring) and some soft sweaters :)

you try to play some board and card games together, but he wins everytime because he can guess your next move based on your heartbeat and movements

after you give up, you both just end up cuddling, and he rambles about his recent missions and office stories

showers you with kisses and caresses; purposely teases your pulse points to get a reaction from you

although you give him gifts (i think he would really like noise-cancelling headphones), his favorite one is your praise. he can't stop blushing when you list off all the reasons you love him hehe

tecchou suehiro

tecchou would take you on a romantic cabin getaway!

you go on a cute couple's hike (it's supposed to be along a heart shaped trail)

he's kind of directionally challenged and gets lost along the way...

as an apology, he gives you the chocolates he bought for you (they melted from the heat though)

he eventually finds his way through the surrounding landscape and you find a secret waterfall connected to a beautiful lake

you both go swimming to cool off and end up laughing off the whole situation

when you get back to the cabin, you order takeout (do not let this man cook) and look through the pictures you took on your hike

he gifts you some plum blossoms he picked on the hike ♡

601 notes · View notes

iznsfw · 10 months

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Like a Feather From a Swan’s Broken Wing

LE SSERAFIM's Nakamura Kazuha x Male Reader Smut

7,468 words

Categories | agent!You, ballerina!Kazuha, cunnilingus, daddy kink, spanking, fingering, slight bondage

Masterlist | Mobile Masterlist | Commission me!

This is a commission in which I was given the task to write literally anything I wanted (thank you!)

“The art of pleasing is the art of deception.”

— Luc de Clapiers

The gun’s in a steady direction, only looking forward. It’s aimed at the dark, at wherever the partners of the man you’ve been hunting for months might hide. On the darker side, you wish that if there would be anyone coming out, it would be the man himself so you'd be able to shoot him. He's the source of more headaches than you could count and the one who keeps you up late at night, and never for a good reason.

It's the selfish part of you speaking. You shouldn't let that interfere with the operation.

You're in uniform, wrapped head to toe in camouflage green. It feels heavy on your skin, but that doesn't stop your determination. You'll carry the weight of your uniform before you carry the burden that is him, who prolongs the operation, leaves your coffee powder short, and keeps the nation in distress.

Today, you'll catch him, once and for all.

Look around briefly. The night covers you completely, and hopefully doesn't cover the enemy, too. You only take a flashed look; quickness is a skill you once were unlearned in but developed later into the senior years of your profession.

Physical strength is another—the door meets the ground with a harsh thud after you kick it down. Training isn't easy by any means, but it's worth it. Hopefully this mission is the same as well.

Teamwork is a skill you learned, too, for like a flock of crows, you and the squad enter the warehouse. Altogether, they're shouting. They call for the victim (add an "s" for plural form, if necessary), telling her she's okay. Everything's going to be alright, they say, no need to worry.

However, they promise a much bloodier end for the kidnapper, who's probably lurking in the shadows.

"Come out now!" Yunjin shouts. She's frightening when she's angry; her brows are downturned and her fierce eyes are locked onto any movement. Hands on her gun, she's always prepared. "We're not going to ask again!"

"Scan the whole place," Sakura, your leader and chief, commands the rest of your team. The hate for the man glistens in her eyes; for her fierce predator looks, the team often dubs her as the cat of your group. "Don't leave one stone unturned."

The cramped warehouse is emptied out by the sounds of boots on the stairs. You take over the mission half and half: you, Sakura, and Yunjin on the first floor and Chaewon, Wonyoung, and Minju on the second.

Your half of the team knocks over the boxes. They spill out packing peanuts and hints of drugs packed in Ziploc bags. Doors fly open and welcome you into empty darkness. Above you, you hear the newer ones in the squad yelling. It's an amateur habit, but maybe it would work. Maybe it would finally draw the criminals out to justice, and all of this would be over.

But, of course, when they run down the stairs with faces devoid of any recognition and your face mirroring theirs with disappointment, it's clear that this whole thing is far from its end.

In fact, you're only at the beginning of a long, uncertain road.

Thread twisted around pins lead to everywhere but the answer. You've been staring at the billboard for too long, trying to piece together the olden newspaper scraps and sticky notes, but there's nothing. Any signs of an answer bring you to nothing. Each path, strung by thread and yarn of colors signifying this and that, draws to a dead end.

If you don't work harder with your team, Bae Suzy would be dead, too.

So why haven't you caught the abductor yet?

You and your team sit at the rounded table. They look solemn, and perhaps a little irritated. You can't blame them—the mission you thought would be the last became another one to the list of failed rescue operations.

They're getting tired of this, and if it were any other case, they'd let go of it. But this is Bae Suzy you're talking about—she's famous, reputable, and intelligent. She's an accomplished actress, a loveable idol, and an excellent model. All of these make her the treasure of many high-class individuals who’d pay billions and fans who'd give their lives to have her back, so you have to go through. Whether you like it or not, that’s how the story goes.

Your boss, chief Miyawaki Sakura, crosses her arms sternly. High curved nose, straight-set lips, and eyes that never failed to scour through the team, she nods at you. It doesn't take a sign language translator to get what she means: start talking.

"The mission was aborted due to fallacies in translation and sources," you say. You're using your classic, signature neutral tone for meetings like this one. There's an edge to it today, though. No one dares to tell you about it. "One of our sources translated the location and transferred the information to us incorrectly, hence bringing us to another failed operation."

Your teammates nod. Sakura sighs, pinching her nose.

"Due to this," you continue, slapping down on the table a picture of Bae Suzy, in which she smiles charmingly and waves to a mass of reporters, "we must conduct further readings into the case to ensure that the information is accurate. For Bae Suzy, and for us."

Another series of nods from across the room. Most of them are half hearted.

"So, do any of you have a proposal as to where the kidnapper is now? And where he might have brought miss Bae?"

The quiet Kim Chaewon raises her hand. She used to be the one who brought and made the coffee, but after she helped you solve a cold case during her night shifts, you brought it upon yourself to let her join the team. She listened to the seminars well and was excellent in the training. She had potential, is what you're saying, so you're more than glad to hear from her side.

"I believe the kidnapper is a dancer. Maybe he’s brought her to a studio."

"That isn't relevant," says Sakura, venom in her voice. It’s wholly unintended for her to lash out at the new member of the squad, but her exhaustion is getting the better of her today.

Chaewon blushes. "I believe it is, chief," she retorts timidly. "He left ballet shoes and leotards in the last operation. It might lead us to his location, especially if he's the sentimental type."

"And you say that after we ransacked an old man's warehouse? After he thought we were little shits playing soldiers and looking for some coke?"

“B-but the operation was your idea!”

"I launch all operations, honey," Sakura informs her, smiling with fake sweetness. "What do you do?"

"Sakura," you warn. Your words are tight. You don't have it in your soul to deal with her feistiness today. Any other day you would have let the bickering go on, but the failed mission has downed your spirits.

Silence passes around the table. Wonyoung's looking around, waiting for someone to speak. Sakura's staring daggers into the flushed Chaewon. Minju and Yunjin are as quiet as they can be.

Let the silence ferment with acknowledgement: "Thank you, Chaewon, for your input. Any other ideas?"

"I believe Chaewon is right,” Minju pipes up. “We received a letter from the suspect after the operation.”

You smile, both at the good news and the fact that Minju is, so far, the prettiest out of the squad, and doesn't have only a pretty face but the good wits to back it up, too. That's part of the reason why you love welcoming her point of view, but a letter sounds interesting. Probably even more interesting than getting close with Minju, a thought you entertained more than you should.

“Were there fingerprints?” you ask.

She hands you the letter, which is wrapped in an envelope with newspaper and magazine letters carefully pasted on its front. “No. He probably used gloves.”

You carefully rip the hood of the envelope upwards and pull out the folded paper. You then read it out loud:

"To the police, agents, and detective teams—

"You won't ever find me. I float through the crowds unseen. I glide through the lake of circumstance like a swan. I bring her along, and though she's a kitten scared of water, she's mine now. Forever.

"It would take years before you're even able to save your precious little Suzy. It might not even happen at all.

"For that reason, although I abhor you more than you'd think for you all are built on a system of lies and corruption, I offer you this clue:

"I have flown to other nations where my flock calls for me in our garden. Will you be able to shoot me down?

"Soar with me,

"The One Who Dances, A Flame Eternal."

It must have taken hours to cut out all those magazine letters. That's one thing you'll commend the abductor for.

"'The One Who Dances,'" says Wonyoung in awe. She realizes that Chaewon was right about him being a dancer. For someone as young and new to this side of the profession, it’s like watching a thing straight out of a thriller movie.

"'The One Who Dances,'" Sakura repeats, but in a more sarcastic tone than the interested girl. She scoffs. There's a smile on her face that’s amused despite the situation. "Boo, what a fucking nerd. Did he take up human sciences or something?"

"That's not relevant," you tell her, avenging Chaewon (and defending yourself, too, because you also studied human sciences. That's not fair. You aren't a nerd.)

"I’m telling you, those essays they make those kids do rot their brains. Oh, and shut the fuck up. This is why you aren't a team leader."

Choose to ignore her. "I… I just don't get it," you say hopelessly.

Your hair is thin between your fingers as you crawl your digits into it. They're tense, just like you are. You've been tight and stressed through the whole investigation process, in fact, because you've rolled through every possible location: a school, a secret hideout, an old building. None of them are occupied by the criminals. None of them have Bae Suzy.

"We're getting there," replies Yunjin softly. She pats your shoulder and looks at your billboard of pictures and clues, too. "We already know Suzy's being held captive. We just don't know where."

She's lying. That's what friends are for: to lie to make you feel better in situations where it's impossible to be. In that case, Yunjin’s an excellent friend because you're getting abso-fucking-lutely nowhere. It's been one failed rescue mission after another, and it doesn't seem like the next one would be successful either.

"That's the problem, Yunjin." Twirling the black ocean of coffee with a teaspoon, you point to a newspaper clipping thumbtacked to the west side of the board. "Last time, they said the kidnapper took her to the USA because she was seen at the airport."

You rise from your swivel chair to tug out a printed screenshot of the CCTV at said place, and raise it for everyone to see. It shows the timestamps and Bae Suzy looking scared as she stares into the crowds.

"But then she went back to Dutchland," Sakura adds.

“Correct.” Take another grayscale photo where Bae Suzy waits unwillingly at the airport, and tap on the sign at the very front of the line she's in that says the name of the country. "The sources are just as confused as we are."

Yunjin's furrowed brow quirks. She picks up the folder and goes through it. The papers reflect in her black-rimmed glasses. "Why would she be in Dutchland?"

"Because," jab a thumb into the picture of Suzy again, "Dutchland means something to the kidnapper. He wouldn't have gone with Suzy there for nothing. It risks everything."

Dutchland is the main setting of the case, actually. Everything begins and ends there. Everything you know about the kidnapper lies in the note he addressed to the police, issued by Minju earlier.

Wait—

Pull out the kidnapper's letter again. It's impossible to mistake it for anything else even through the mess on the table when it's smoother than the other scratch papers. The identifying marks are your fingerprints from pen ink branded onto the thin piece of parchment.

Open it, rolling it out on the table like a mantle. It's a mantle of clues you run your finger on. Flown to other nations… soar with me… our garden… The One Who Dances…

Your breath catches in your throat. "Chaewon," you say, looking up at her, “you’re a fucking genius.”

One Leaf Academy is a rich, well-established school for aspiring ballerinas and professional dancers alike. There can't be any other the abductor was referring to. There's only one particularly famous ballet academy in Dutchland, and since he's mentioned that he was the one who danced, this was it. The "garden" mentioned in the letter helped map it down to one location.

It looks good even from bird's eye view. You can see it properly without the pane of a window standing in the way. When you’re part of the squad, flights aren’t taken on planes. Instead, you use helicopters, government-owned and government-approved.

It took only two days for Dutchland to issue an agreement to let you through the borders. They love Bae Suzy, too, apparently. They love her so much that the process went by quickly and you weren’t even stressed about it. There’s more things to stress about later on, but there’s no use in lamenting the future when the present is already good as is.

The green helicopter lands in the forest behind the school. It camouflages among the leaves and trees, giving you the freedom to hop out of it as noisily as you’d like.

Twigs and branches snap under your feet as you do, and you have to catch Sakura to stifle her trip.

She slaps your hands away and brushes down her dress, as if your touch ruined it. "Keep your fucking hands to yourself."

"You're welcome, Sakura," you say, shrugging.

"Can you two please stop fighting?" Wonyoung asks. Her delicate voice, irresistible even to the hardhearted Sakura, ceases the argument before it could continue.

Pull the ridiculous blazer they made you wear on and look at the team. "Everyone ready? You know your jobs?" you ask.

"I'm the mother," says Sakura spitefully. She glares down at the gradient dress assigned to her. "I'll pretend to take pictures and talk to you through the phone."

"Who's the baby daddy?"

"For once, I beg, shut the fuck—"

"Guys," Wonyoung repeats with a more pleading voice.

Sigh. The fight was on you and it's up to you to end it as well. So, turn to: "Wonyoung?"

"I stay behind and watch out for suspicious people," she replies, back to her usual bright but professional self. You hope she doesn't lose the shimmer in her eyes years down the road of being on the investigative team. You'd hate for her to go through what you had to deal with.

"Yunjin?"

"First round of backup with Chaewon unnie." Yunjin taps the gun hidden in the loop of her jeans.

"Minju?"

The girl blushes. "Look for Bae Suzy," she says in a small voice. She looks pointedly at you. "And you?"

"Find the abductor." Look down at your shoes and wonder if they'd ever experience a trip that isn't about work. "Put an end to everything."

Everything's been fleshed out already. There are backup plans of backup plans, earpieces hidden on the sides of your head when the need to communicate comes. This is how it usually is with undercover work.

You ponder, for a moment, and think if it would forever be like this: a game of cat and mouse, always led on but never going through. It just fuels your passion to find Bae Suzy once and for all.

"Remember, this is a recital," Sakura informs all of you. She points to the backdoors of the ballet academy, which suppresses classical music from the inside. "We have to fit in. Don't drop your cover."

She looks at you and narrows her eyes. “Even if somebody tempts you.”

"Operation One Leaf, launched immediately."

You enter the recital with the subtle earpiece strapped to your lobe and your steps light. You carry your posture well, and with the suit, draw looks from the other parents and from children, too. They're wondering if you're the owner of the place, or maybe you're a well-dressed teacher? A wealthy father? They'll never know because you won't dare tell them.

Regard them with a cold yet polite nod and walk through the sides of the chairs. There's not much of the audience left, but you still have to play your part.

You lock eyes with Minju, who steps into the recital wearing preppy yet casual wear. Mouth her good luck. She smiles, but proceeds into the backrooms without another word. Right. She plays a part in the mission, too. You shouldn't disturb her.

"You're here, agent," she says anyway, tapping onto her own earpiece. Her voice rings in your ear. "Break a leg."

Sakura gets in a little while later. As per her job, she pulls out the communication device disguised as a phone and lifts it to the air, "recording" the dancer on the stage.

Blend in with the crowd as you will. You're a little embarrassed by the attention you draw with your suit since the whole thing is supposed to be undercover, but there's no going back now. You have to act the part.

So: stride confidently into the room, never looking down. Take the first seat you see at the very front and look at the performance.

That's kind of how it all started: a look. It wasn't supposed to be anything else, but yes, one single look keeps you hypnotized, not just because of the dance, but the girl who performs it.

She might as well be a swan in disguise. She's got this resilient, princess-like look on her face that's more alluring than it should be. Even her hair serves her royalty; it elegantly floats around her neck and shoulders as she prances and twists.

The uniform, a long-sleeved blouse finished off with a flattering tie and a flowing skirt, doesn't hide her gracefulness. She moves in it as if she were the swan lake herself. Her movements are as fluid as can be. Each rush and lift of her leg guarantees an upskirted moment in which you're allowed to bask in the beauty of her legs and the fullness of her butt, and you know you shouldn't look. You're better than that; you shouldn't let a young, pretty girl stall your job, but there you are, front seat at a recital for professional senior high ballerinas, hypnotized by a ballerina's dance.

You have to snap out of it. You have better and more important things to do than mentally undress a pretty dancer, yet your eyes are glued on her. It's like your vision was programmed to catch every twirl and glide she makes across the platform, to relish the poke of her chest through the blouse that's a little too small, to yearn for her.

The music is just a dreamful background to her. You're dazed. Hypnotized. Locked into a passive position because of her.

You want this ballerina. You can't do anything but look and want and long.

It's almost heartbreaking when her performance ends. She bows deeply, and you swear she's fired you a wink right before she rises up again.

You have to get to know her. You want to ask her out, maybe even escalate things further on the first date if she’s willing. But you have a mission to do. The squad and saving Bae Suzy come first.

Regretfully, you stand from the monobloc chair and turn your heel. But then there she is, dressed in perfection and uniform, and looking prettier up close when she shouldn't be that close but she is close and you swear one more centimeter closer and you'd be closed up to her lips.

"Hi," she says, casually.

That deep voice, fuck.

Wait, when did she get here?

"I, uh, hi? Wait, how did you… why are you—"

"Please." She rolls her eyes, sets a hand on her tiny pinch of a waist. "Did you think you weren't obvious staring me down?"

"Well, uh—"

(What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you stuttering and stammering and stumbling over your words like you aren't more mature and older than her? How could she say that to you and disregard that fact?

You couldn't be assed to know, but she's intimidating you in a whole different way: making you feel like the platform she dances on by acting sweet but not too sweet, flirty but not over the top. That's what you know, but here's the problem: you have little idea what to do.)

"Calm down," she says. She's a tall girl, but smaller enough to smooth down your blazer and close it softly around your chest. Her eyes are enticing. "I'm just playing with you."

Swallow. Try to collect your composure back into a neat pile, but it overflows and ceases. "Excuse me," you say, voice shaking, "do I know you?"

She pushes out her pink bottom lip, bites it, then shakes her head. "It's Kazuha, if that rings a bell."

"If I didn't know your name, Kazuha," you say, "I'd say I recognize you from somewhere."

"You do?"

"Yeah." The more you talk, the more she looks like Bae Suzy. "You, y-you kind of look like someone I'm looking for."

Kazuha guides you with a hand around your wrist and walks you to the backroom. You have no sense of direction when your eyes are sealed onto her gorgeous face, perfect with their brown eyes and sculpted nose. It's a tour guide to danger, and you don't even know that you're hiking.

"Is she your wife?" She rubs the back of your hand with a thumb, looking at you with such authentic concern that you almost fall for it. Almost. "Girlfriend?"

"No." Breathe through your nose. "Just someone I have to look for."

Slam. The door shuts, and now you're effectively pinned upon its wood like a poster. Amazing how a woman smaller than you could do you like that: have you weak at your knees as she keeps you on the flat of the door, stares you down with no hatred in her eyes, but sultriness. You don't know how you pick up all those clues when she's not speaking, but Kazuha, as you come to find out, isn't like any other girl. She's known her whole life to speak through her body, and the message from her hands pushing you into a flattened position and her leg propped next to your hip is clear.

You’re not sure if you want to open her note and read it.

"Tell me," Kazuha says, chastely, although her actions are anything but, "am I as hot as her?"

Your eyes widen. It's utterly unprofessional; you as an agent shouldn't even begin to engage in a conversation about how the victim's sexually attractive when she might be in the most vulnerable place right now.

Stutter again. Broken words become a new language you're fluent in, and might as well be a native speaker of with how much Kazuha learned you into it. You have her slim, hot body pressed up against yours to thank, and the look in her eyes. The tilt of her pretty little head. Her subtle, knowing smirk.

"I can't talk about that with you," you say, because it's true—you can't. You have a mission to do and your morals to keep.

"Sure you can," Kazuha counters. Her eyes glimmer. "I'm the top student in One Leaf. They basically made me a star when they knew that my name meant 'one leaf,' too. Isn't that funny?"

"What's your point here?"

"The point is," she says, leveling your gaze, "if I fuck you right here in this room, they wouldn't give a damn."

She has a hold of your hands, imprisoning them and trapping them on the slopes of her sizable chest. Your breath hooks on nothing and is released incompletely. Kazuha's breasts are so soft, not the biggest but fill your hands up so well that you'd take them over any other pair.

Have to resist the voice inside you telling you to squeeze. "What are you doing?" you ask.

"Tell me, what do men like you want?"

Kazuha curls your hand into her flesh so that she's making you squeeze—

"Tits—"

—then leads it below her pleated skirt, lets it cup the globes and touch places that should otherwise be left untouched—

"—or ass?"

Both are tastes of heaven. The two choices are soft yet alluring. But you really shouldn't, though you want to rip that skirt clean off her legs and spank her till her cheeks are red. She deserves that for tempting you, for being such a bad girl when she's otherwise excellent at being a ballerina.

"I can't talk to you about that," you have to repeat. But it sounds more like you're convincing yourself rather than her.

Oh, and she's far from being budged.

Kazuha pulls you by the tie and drags you to the nearest monobloc chair. There are plenty of other seats just like that here in the utility room, but she chooses to throw a beautiful, toned leg over each side of your hips and sit on your lap instead. Her ass snuggles your crotch and her legs keep you trapped onto the chair.

"What about now?" she asks.

Then her hips start to sway—it's another coax for you to drag out of your shell and do what you shouldn't. It's another dance besides ballet that she knows well, and you can tell from how her thighs flex and bounce underneath your touch, she's very good at it.

"K-Kazuha… fuck—"

"Come on." She's straight up dry humping you, dragging her perfect pussy up and down your growing erection. Her eyes and mouth both pose a challenge: "Tell me I should stop. Tell me you want to do anything that isn't to fuck me."

Kazuha rubs herself on you. She uses your clothed cock as a personal toy for a few delicious seconds, then rises from your lap to unbutton her blouse. One by one, they undo themselves and the pale skin of her chest is revealed. There's her small cleavage. A collarbone carved from perfection. Her beautiful chest. Too much is what it is, yet your perverted self can't stop gawking.

You remember Sakura's words earlier. She told you not to drop your cover, not to get tempted. You dislike Sakura, yet it's her warning that ignites your hesitation. She suspected that you'd fall like this. She was only trying to hold you back.

"Well? What's gonna happen then?" Kazuha crosses her arms. They frame the underside of her tits, a perfect picture. "Do you want to go out there and find some stupid girl or fuck the one on your lap? What's it gonna be, daddy?"

You're not a daddy kink type of person. In fact, you don't really have that much of a sex drive. Intercourse and the like are things you have no time for when your job is like this, much less a discovery of a daddy kink.

So why is your dick so much harder now that she's said it?

Why are your hands on her hips?

Why are you carrying Kazuha's lithe form and placing her right on a desk?

Why are you kissing her?

When your lips and hers meet, an apocalypse is birthed. An apocalypse of sex, hunger, and desire breaks out. Your eyes are closed, yet your hands and Kazuha's own know exactly where to touch and hold. She unbuckles your belt and pulls down your pants. You slide your greedy fingers over Kazuha's perfect buttcheeks. Tug off the ridiculous shorts that saved her performance from being pornographic. Rip off the panties that are sticky with need.

"Oh, ohhh, you like that?" Kazuha moans while you kiss her neck and chest. Don't bother to rip off the uniform when it looks incredibly sexy on her fit body. "You like me calling you that, daddy?"

"Quiet. We're making this quick."

"So you do want to fuck me."

Thighs touch your lips when you make your way down. Or is it the other way around? Whatever, the point is that Kazuha's thighs are a delicacy. They're full yet sculpted and would look great looped around your head. Luckily, you find that the sopped core between them is more delicious.

Lick a line from the bottom of her slit right up to her bundle of nerves. "Who says I want to fuck you?"

"D-daddy!" Kazuha gasps, covering her mouth.

"You're quick to call me that." You kiss the insides of thighs then start trailing your tongue around her clit. On top of it. Under it. Each side is subject to immense pleasure. "Where's the shame, little dancer?"

"Right on with the nicknames."

You splay Kazuha's pink lips and stick your tongue in between them. Her hips buckle forward. Her eyes are all wide and eager and needy, and it takes a few more thrusts of your tongue to have them shut.

However, it doesn't take a lot for Kazuha to moan. Her voice is tinged with deep tones, and they pronounce out prolonged cries as you toy her cunt with your tongue. Her thighs threaten to crush your head, but, if anything, you'd welcome it. You're happy to be trapped in between her luscious legs and keep the feminine scent of her pussy right up close. Her juices could be your water, the food would be her core itself—you're already eating it like a meal anyway.

"Of course. If you want to play games, I'll give in." Toy with her clit, then proceed to give it harsh sucks and slurps that her lower body spasms. "I'm just playing along."

Kazuha bites on a bated breath and beats the table with a bent hand. "What if I'm not playing around, daddy?"

"Hm?"

"What if, fuck, I'm not playing around?" She pushes you deeper between her legs and wraps them around your head. She toys with the sides of your ears. "Maybe I like fucking people who obviously shouldn't be doing it. Maybe I like calling a hot man daddy. It just feels so good for me. Did you ever think about that?"

And maybe you like fucking a girl who's a hindrance to your mission. Maybe you like eating out her wet cunt, driving your tongue deeper into the soaked fuckhole, and doing everything you wanted to do to her when she was onstage.

But all of that is just one maybe after another. As far as you're concerned, you don't actually like doing it, yet when Kazuha whines and squirms like that, your mind is quickly changed.

Self-discovery, you guess.

"So do it," you challenge her. Look up at her while you quickly rub her clit. "Call me daddy."

"Daddy, hngnnn, fuck, daddy!"

Kazuha's pussy creates the most obscene wet sounds. Your index finger doesn't rest; it fires away at her clit, her most sensitive spot, and urges it to become more swollen. More sensitive. More desperate.

Push her other leg up for more access. As you expected, it effortlessly rises. Who knew that her years of dancing as a professional ballerina would translate well when eating her pussy? You love how her thigh quivers and tries to stay upward while you eat her out. That's one thing ballet didn't teach her: to stay stabilized when there's a tongue and finger assaulting her center.

"Are you usually this wet, Kazuha? After you dance out there with your legs and thighs out for everyone to see?"

"No, no, I'm not wet! You're, hnnn, daddy," her eyes lose focus and she rolls her head back, mouth gaped, "oh, fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum!"

Start to jack yourself off to the unholy, R-18 scene of Kazuha approaching orgasm. Is it a known thing that ballerinas are the most beautiful when they cum? If not, it should be, for Kazuha's blissful face—eyes shut, mouth wide with moans—and her shaking legs enchant you. They draw you into her and have you rubbing and tapping at her core to coax out more euphoric reactions from her.

Slip your fingers inside her. Be greeted with a fountain of liquid and scent. Appreciate how tight she is when it's only your fingers in her.

"God, daddy, not there!" Kazuha screams. Have to dodge a few times for her kicking and flailing legs to miss your face. "I'm so sensitive there, oh no, you can't—oh, fuck—daddy!"

Her deep voice thrills your erection, and you could have cum on the spot with her if you were more focused on rubbing her orgasm out. A bit of squirt stains your fingers, but you end up getting more stains of girl cum on yourself as you go on fingering and rubbing.

Kazuha rubs her own nipples as she settles down from her high. "That, that was—daddy—"

You hush her. There's no time to talk. You unravel Kazuha's tie and wrap the little gray thing around her wrists. You knot them tightly after you wring her arms behind her back. She watches on with confusion, wondering why you're suddenly being so horny.

If she asked, you'd explain that it's because of her. Who else could be the culprit when she's there with her incredible thighs and perfect, fuckable body? When she's the feistiest little thing who just turns out to crumble if the right guy crosses her? Everything about Kazuha seems to be designed and fabricated to tempt you, and look at you giving in.

"You're tying me up, daddy?" she asks, tone varying between disappointment and excitement.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

She's so cute, really—she closes up to you with the biggest eyes of hurt and want, with her slim lips curved downwards into a pout. "You have to fuck me," she says, like it's a promise you made that she's been waiting on to be granted for a while. "It's not fair. You can't even fuck well, daddy, and you're tying me up? You must be joking."

Scoff. "I wasn't so bad at fucking when I ate your pussy."

"I was just moaning to make you happy." Kazuha leans forward, presenting her exposed cleavage and face that looks otherwise innocent besides the smirk. "I love making big handsome daddies like you happy."

Her words and cutesy tone send chills down your spine. She's so attractive that it's becoming scary, even when she's bound by the hands.

"Don't you feel bad, daddy?" she asks with a timely lull of her head to the side. "You're giving your whole career away to fuck me. You're supposed to be doing something else, aren't you? Something other than fucking me? So why are you here?"

Her words hit too close to home. "You don't know anything about me, Kazuha."

"Sure I do."

"Turn around."

"Make me. Holy shit, daddy, you have such a big cock, but you're so pathetic. You didn't expect to fuck a girl tonight, did you? But you saw me and thought about it. And now that I've figured you out, you got mad. Why's it the fault of a good little girl like me that you're doing the wrong thing? Maybe it's because you know you're such a bad person, a bad guy—"

You grab her and push her stomach down on the table. Your rod slips inside the ballerina, and she breaks.

And it's everything you've ever wanted: she's hot and tight and wet around you. Her bouncy ass lives up to its description as you pump at a rapid fire pace inside her. Her pussy's so tight that it feels like it's pinching you to keep you inside, and you do exactly that. You'd never want to be anywhere else.

But you still make sure to pull out to let your length breathe, then submerge them into the tightness of her vagina again. Her lips cling to your dick. They don't want you to be anywhere else either.

“Say you’re sorry.”

"S-sorry, daddy!" she's quick to say. A broken mirror lies across the table, and from there you can see the expressions of winces and moans on her beautiful face.

"Fucking mean it."

"Kazu… ha, Kazuha… Kazuha's sorry, daddy!"

There's a certain power you impel on this thrust specifically, and it sends her legs buckling. Place a hand on her bound wrists to keep her in place just like she did when she had you trapped to the door.

Frankly, you did it for the chance to slap her cheeks. Spank one and it jiggles beautifully. Spank the other and her hole tightens. Make it a point of yours to spank there particularly, all while keeping the unyielding quality of her hole. It's how you keep the brat that is Kazuha on a leash.

"Daddy, daddy, fuck!" she screams. "You're so, so good, please keep fucking me!"

"Contradicting yourself." Pull out, much to her disappointment, and slide your cock up and down in the plateau of her asscheeks. The flesh of her ass hugs you.

"Why'd you pull out, daddy?" Kazuha asks. She looks back at you and pleads with the shimmer in her eyes.

"I wanted to see if this ass is as soft as it looks."

For a few blissful moments you fuck Kazuha's ass cheeks, but never really entering her puckered pink hole. It causes her to whine and pout. It's impossible to not give in to such a pretty face, so you continue for a few seconds, letting the pleasure entice your cock to a full solidness, then pause.

"Are you a good girl, Kazuha?" Rub her pussy then bring your slick digits to her mouth.

Kazuha licks them clean and nods repeatedly. If you weren't so focused on riling her up, you'd go back to the moment your squad nodded their heads as you went over the mission plan. "Yesss, daddy."

"So much you'd let me fuck this perfect pussy till I'm spent?"

"Yes!"

Twist Kazuha around and prop her on the desk. Then, you tear her blouse. Buttons soar in the air to make way for her full, ab-ridden midriff to be exposed. Her tiny slutty waist has your mouth agape. Her small breasts peek through her black lace bra.

"And let me cum all over this midriff?" you ask, staking the deal higher.

"Oh, what's that?" Kazuha smirks. "Is little old daddy scared to breed me?"

Her character when she's not being fucked confuses you just as much as it arouses you. She looks way better when she's being a submissive little dancer, though.

"Bad girls don't get to be bred."

Push inside her. Yes, you're doing this again. Kazuha's abs flex, and the breaths she takes and releases become more strained.

As you pound her, she looks at you with this face that's lost any elegance from dancing. It's looking like she's slightly sleepy with pleasure, like she wanted to lay there while she let you have your way with her. And you'd be glad to—her ripped uniform and pretty legs would spur you on in no time.

You grab her ass and start dragging her to yourself, too, to fill her deeper. It works; your tip makes it to her womb and right then and there you're tempted to be hypocritical and breed her anyway. You'd love to imagine how her face basked in pleasure would look when you fill her with your load. You'd love to see her pull the weight of being bred well and dance out there with no care that your semen's rolling down her soft legs.

But she doesn't deserve it.

"Pleaaaase, I'll be so good!" she says. Her hands end up on your shoulders and she's kissing you everywhere. "I'll be a good girl, daddy, just fffucking fill me up. I'll never… I'll be…. oh!"

You're going too fast. Your sudden burst of energy leaves her on the edge. On the wall, to be more precise, because you're ruining and rearranging her insides so well that she's knocked onto the walls again and again.

"Daddy…"

Kazuha winces. Moans. C-cries? She doesn't know what to do. Her legs feel hot and she feels like she's going to burst anytime soon. Your cock's impaling her in all the right ways, grazing her cervix and G-spot but also parting her walls just so that the pain transforms into pleasure. "Gonna cum now, daddy, please let me—oh, please—"

The last word comes out wrung in between pitches. Kazuha shudders and squeals. The pleasure's overwhelming her so much that she's let go of her strength. Her legs feel too weak. Her throat, although you haven't fucked it, is sore. Then you're painting her abs, white fluid against and above and over white skin, and she immediately fingers some of your release and pushes a digit inside herself. She's a resourceful girl besides being an excellent ballerina. Good to know.

"You really didn't breed me, daddy?" she asks sadly.

You regret not doing so seeing the hopeless look on her face. "Sorry, but I've got to—"

Your eyes size up to planets.

—"go."

It's only at the finish of your sentence that you realize that you're right. You do have to go. Why are you here when you have a mission to find the abductor?

"Shit, shit, shit!" Pull your pants up and fix your blazer. It's cool inside the utility room, but your blood's run cold. "I have to go, Kazuha. I—"

Kazuha rolls her eyes. "Fix your earpiece first, daddy. You're a mess."

You blindly follow her words before you even suspect why she knew about the earpiece, or why it's off. After you tap on it, you hear the following, haunting words:

"Mission aborted. Mission aborted. We've been betrayed."

"No, no, no." You shake your head over and over. You can’t believe that was happening and you missed out on assisting your teammates out. Speak through the piece in a shaken voice, "What's going on? Yunjin? Yunjin, what's going on?"

"What the fuck?" she says, obviously infuriated. "I've been trying to reach you, agent! Where the hell are you?"

Look around. "Uh… I met a girl. We're in the back."

"Fuck. What's her name?"

"Kazuha."

Yunjin's voice reaches an alarm you've never heard from her. "Get the fuck out of there, agent! Get away from her, kill her, I don't give a fuck, just run!"

"B-but why?"

"The kidnapper's not a 'him,' she's a 'she'! It's a trap!"

As Yunjin's voice echoes from your earpiece in the small room, Kazuha's creepy smile grows.

"Yunjin," flash a look at the ballerina, who’s still smiling, then at the ceiling, "I don't understand."

"Get your fucking head in the game. 'The One Who Dances', agent. 'One Leaf'! The answer was right in our face, it's her!" Yunjin's practically shouting now. It deafens you, but you hear every word loud and clear. "She impersonated Bae Suzy at the airport, agent. The ‘cat’ in the letter wasn’t about Suzy, it’s about Sakura! She betrayed us!”

You look at Kazuha, and suddenly her smile isn’t as alluring as it was when you were fucking her. It speaks of an impending doom. It tells you that you should really run, but there wouldn’t be much change if you did because she’d still catch you. You’d still end up dead.

Suddenly, all the pieces to the story that played behind the scenes fall into place. They connect too well for it to be false. You never questioned once why Sakura led you in each of the operations, and now it’s clear why she did: she was holding you back from saving Suzy. There was a reason why she was team leader. How did you not catch it?

And Kazuha… she didn’t come up to you just because she wanted to, did she? She had a partner and a purpose. You were searching for the culprit ever since you stepped foot into the academy. It didn’t hit you once that you might be fucking her.

Kazuha takes a few steps towards you and lays her forehead into your chest. “You’re not mad, are you, daddy?”

How did her tie suddenly disappear from her wrists?

#kpop smut #female idol smut #idol smut #girl group smut #genshin smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim smut #nakamura kazuha smut #kazuha smut #lesserafim kazuha smut #le sserafim kazuha smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader #pov smut #kofimission #commission

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anantaru · 1 year

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POWER AND WEAKNESS

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — kamisato ayato, a man who, from the outside, appeared to be both a gentleman and a playboy alike, yet from the inside, he was anything but that, because in reality he was inexperienced and without skill, yet full of need.

— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — happy birthday handsome ayato, one of the prettiest characters from hit game genshin impact <3

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 1.4k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, ma.sturbation, heavily fantasizing about you + perv ayato & virgin & inexperienced ayato, touch starved and needy ayato

kamisato ayato, who was said to be unequalled in his own presumably unnoticed play.

he— like none other, was undoubtably aware of the graven power he held in his hands, that it doesn‘t need more than a short lived glance of his to have someone on their knees for him. it's his unfaltering favorite to see it happening before his eyes.

he gets it, behind that pretty smile he sees it too, that his polished charm was an important utilizer, a weapon of sorts.

a lot of things can‘t be talked about nor said out loud, predominantly that in point of fact kamisato ayato was the complete opposite of the frequent rumors circulating around inazuma city.

it‘s got to be quite comical on how they had been spread around out of nowhere, largely from silent admirers, devotees and fanatics— yet quite frankly, he never looked into it too much nor does he actually care or give a damn at all.

but it's presumably said that he was never without company at night, and indeed, he always engaged in sexual delight, relishing in temporal relief in between a full-packed work schedule.

an insatiable man that rarely revealed his true nature before anyone— ayato was like a book without pages— his intuitions, his beliefs and feelings had no beginning and no end, you dare to look into his eyes and it's all pitch black like a void, anchored deep with an attached secret to every question.

well, in some ways he did open up to you and to that, you were aware that ayato wasn't how everyone had sternly pictured him in their mind. For you, he was just ayato, a close friend that barely had time to get some genuine sleep in, let alone meet up with you in person for quick lunch or a cup of sakura bloom tea, though, the people of inazuma obviously weren't aware of that, plus— the idea of a mysterious young man was clearly more appetizing to the public.

evidently, that didn't mean that ayato didn't have his own needs and fulfillments to be met, he was a human too, with cravings— and him being a virgin was one of the many secrets no one would be able to tickle out of him— not even you; especially not you.

to the core, his troubled psyche was doing that again, thinking about how it felt— to be stimulated and pleased, to have his large cock down someones throat for the first time and feel the infamous constriction, the room smelling of sex and sweat, the tight sensation and the glazed eyes when he lessens his head. maybe have them eagerly gulp and repeatedly choke on his length until he sees more visible tears locked through their eyes, messily powdered around their lashes just like the dozen amount of saliva drizzling down their chin.

oh, what a dirty but sweet memory— not to mention that it was about you of all people, it's mostly once he gets home from work, exhausted and worn out, comfortably dropping onto the large bed with every sweltering muscle in his body burning and aching from his habits of overworking himself until he's on the brink of passing out.

ayato's facial expression drastically changes into a soft, pleased tint once he's alone, without anyone to witness him doing something out of the ordinary.

the way he desired you, he shakes his head, the sheer effect you had on him, he shakes his head again and damn it, why won't you leave his mind? right when he was attempting to close his eyes and sleep, he sighs— he's tired and he didn't like it, his eyes were practically falling shut on their own and it was taxing but you were still the one who repeatedly invaded his thoughts, sneakily taking undeviating charge over his brain.

he can feel himself become harder and the little sharpened throbs in his pants were met in a series of quivering aches and spasms— though what was happening right now came from purely his own creations, sure, it's what would always happen when he thought about you.

his cock stirs and he experimentally places his hand on top of his bulge, just to— get a little tension out of it, no, not now, he won't do anything else. he should go to sleep and wake up fresh for the next day that was most definitely going to be as exhausting as the previous one.

another rub and his hand travels further, ayato heaves a pitchy whine and completes it with a silent moan when applying more strength, closing his eyes when he desperately shapes his cock through his garments— yes, he was desperate, and he calls your name for the first time now as it dripped over him like the finest, most sweetest honey, vibrating from the tip of his tongue. he traces the outline of his cock and then moves his hips up, concentrating on his lower muscles and imagining your puffy clit— anything to get this swiftly over with so he can head to bed and get some sleep in.

"curses!" ayato hisses through his snagged jaw before unlatching his pants, once again defeated by his sinful wish. he drops his eyes to see his cock convulse around nothing but fake and lewd fantasies, "this is what you're doing to me." and his voice— so gravelly but sharp when ayato pulls his hand up to spit on his palm while tousling down his garments to free his pulsating cock.

he gives himself slow, circular motions and kneads his saliva on the tip, sliding down. despite the obvious desperation bedaubed on his face, ayato still took his time with this— if he came this far he might as well just end it most effectively.

a deep, lowered grunt illicit over his lips before he runs his thumb over the slit and he leans back into the silken cushions to seal his eyes, so he could enjoy in the unexperienced sloppy guides of his hand fisting his cock.

he closes his eyes, he sees you, he falls asleep, he sees you. his mind fabricates your bare, exposed body, moulding and shaping you before his spectral eyes and it haunts him, dearly— he can't fathom this enough, because he doesn't want to feel this way for someone he considers a close friend, but maybe, only maybe, if he lets you invade his mind, maybe then he will actually take the opportunity and be at peace with his developed feelings for you.

ayato bites down on his bottom lip to suppress a dragged tone and he hauls his arm over his face as he turned up his tempo, his erection throbbing inside the rigid grasps of his hand. It's overwhelming and he found himself on the brink of cumming already, how embarrassing, he mutters beneath his shaded moans.

it’s almost tragic how he marvels in his fantasies, imagining its you down there, pleasing him, and ayato wonders how you looked, or tasted. your puffy pussy must be so soft, slicked up with cream and he wants to lap his tongue over the pillowy folds, just once, until your liquids are dribbling down his throat while his nose drums into your clit and his tongue fucks your sticky cunt— airing out the prettiest pants from your lungs.

"how pretty." ayato muses and smiles to himself, fucked out when he swallows thickly at the bubbling bump in his stomach thudding deeper. how much he wants to continue this but ayato wasn't sure on how to deny himself, it's embarrassing but he never did it before, well he tried but, ultimately failed.

how much he wanted you to show him how it's done and then apply it to you afterwards, perhaps control your orgasm until you're most definitely screaming his name, again and again, before your vocals were aching and sniffling but he won't ever stop, not before the entirety of inazuma city would be fully aware that you're his, that it's him doing this to you.

"mhm." the built up snap in his abdomen sent him into a spiral of euphoria and when he cums, he quickly parts his thighs to jerk into his hand wetly and faster, the joints of his fingers sleeved up in sticky whites and slicking him entirely, running down his spent cock.

"please." he pleads in a haze— almost as if he forgot his surroundings and the place he was in.

ayato was indeed, thoroughly fucked out— the yashiro commissioner, on the outside so handsome, sophisticated and clean, but on the inside, well, that’s a story that would be harder to explain.

he laughs, breathlessly, "fuck—" and pouts with your name slipping from his tongue, "this is what you do to me love— over and over."

#ayato smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #ayato x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact ayato x reader #genshin impact ayato smut #ayato x you #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato smut #ayato x reader smut #genshin impact ayato #genshin impact imagines

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accio-victuuri · 18 days

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bits shared by rufeng about xiao zhan @ yuguyao shoot when she visited + stories from friends:

1. He started holding a small black fan in April and blowing it all the time.

2. When filming Shiying’s torture scene, he went to the director’s house to watch and ask if the movements will look like dancing (because no post-production effects have been added yet)

3. 520 : invited the crew to eat Deluxe ice cream. When the filming is completed, the whole group will be given a Tasogare Sakura coffee gift box, and also invited the crew to drink bubble tea.

4. He specifically asked the crew to help him find a reliable fitness center. Personal trainers don’t dare to go to the gym to exercise, so they do it secretly. Find a place to exercise;

5. The director and producer called Zanzan Zhan Ge and the co-stars call him big brother ( da-ge )

6. When filming, the character needs to be "held up" and there are quite a lot of little expressions and movements while holding a small fan in the gap. For example, when stretching, he will raise his arms to the left and right , swinging like seaweed, it still has the shadow of the time when he filmed Aling.

7. Director Zheng of Ah Ling went to visit the set. During the chat, he jokingly asked him who was more fierce, Director Zheng or Director Jiang (Yu Gu Yao). Zan Zan said that Director Zheng was fiercer.

8. When rehearsing, he still said "Mou Ti Yi" to the director in Cantonese, and he would move his lips in a mumbling manner. He would still make a few onomatopoeias while speaking the lines and then sing along.

9. When drinking water, he still took a big sip with a puffy face and swallowed it slowly.

10. After teaching Zhu Yan the wind control technique, Shi Ying walked up the steps with an umbrella. The drone flew over very close to his head. He relied on the umbrella to block him and couldn't take a picture of him. He also made a "woo~" sound in his mouth to cheer.

11. You can smell his fragrance at a close distance~not strong, it's a sweet fragrance, and it doesn't smell like perfume, but more like a little physical powder (could it be the fragrance of makeup powder?). The skin is very good! The eyelashes are not as long as I imagined.

12. He got a bamboo pole prop and started playing with it, just like when he was playing with his brother (yibo) in the A-Ling era, imitating the movements of a Japanese samurai swinging a sword.

13. When Director Zheng of The Untamed visited the set and chatted, he jokingly asked XZ if he thought the show would be popular when he was filming The Untamed. XZ replied with an embarrassed smile: Whether it would be popular or not is a mystery.

14. Director Jiang admired XZ very much and said that he was definitely not a top-tier star (meaning that many people have a prejudice that the term top-tier star means that it is an idol with only traffic). He praised him for being serious and having his own ideas, and for taking the initiative to discuss with the director. Later, when XZ was chatting with the producer, he asked the director if he had any suggestions for my performance, and if so, he must tell me more. The producer then relayed the director's evaluation of XZ, and XZ said, "Please tell the director for me, I can do better."

15. When Hun Dun forced Zhu Yan to jump into a hole, Shi Ying needed to smile evilly, and XZ exaggeratedly shook his shoulders and laughed “hiahia” when walking around.

16. It is said that 11 trackers were found under XZ’s car (not during the YGY period). During the YGY period, he was followed by SS in the middle of the night, and the police were called to arrest them. There was another time when seven proxy photographers were caught at once.

source

to those who is not familiar with rufeng, she works in the industry and was part of CQL crew. feel free to not believe the bits shared.

#xiao zhan #bjyx #yizhan #accio victuuri translation #yuguyao #omg the trackers on his car that’s so freakin scary my god

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 7 months

Text

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ If y'all wanna be part of the taglist, answer this

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol

Chapter 5: Just A Girl, Just A Boy

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Foul language

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

I like you.

Miles stares at the ceiling before him, the powder blue from the window fading from the lightness to a faint shade of pink. In almost every hour he’s spent just glaring at the plain wall before him, he thinks of you— your words, your frown, and most especially, the taste of your lips. His lips had grown too dry from the constant dabs from his tongue, that had grown too desperate to ensure it’s gotten every inch of your taste.

I like you. I like you. I like you.

With the flat of his two fingers, he fiddles with the bottom of his lip. He tries to trick his mind into thinking that it was you— nibbling on the mauve and marking it with the shade of pink you rouge your own with.

But why can’t there be an us?

He thinks of you as the devil. Stealing a kiss and walking off, but in a way it wasn’t your fault. As much as you did like him, you probably had your own reasons, and he felt shame for pressing you a little too much. But you’re fucking vicious in the way you’d kiss, which meant it probably wasn’t your first time. Unfair, Miles thinks. I’m going insane over you like this, while you’re probably drifting off to sleep.

And it devours him even in the weekdays.

You haven't texted nor replied in days.

You had him zoning out in the middle of his favorite class, pulling his phone out every break of basketball practice, and distracted even on his missions. To say you were his weakness would be an understatement; one word from you alone determined the way of his day. If you’d leave him hanging on the seenzone, he grows irritated of everything— leaving his friends utterly horrified of his silence. Miles had always been silent, but now he was just seemingly murderous. Hell, if only you’d reply with the same flirty twang you usually do, that'd ease him more, but there was nothing.

Even then, it’s not like you owed him anything.

"Morales," Mrs. Vincent sighs, handing his test paper faced downwards. Miles hesitantly accepts it, only to see a bright B- circled in red ink staring right back at him.

"This isn't a failing mark, but it's alarming as you've always had steady A's— and it isn’t just that, I’ve caught you using your phone too many times today." She pensively brought up. Miles hated that sort of look she bore, a kind of pity he despised. He's grown too exhausted to care, but that didn't entirely mean that the mark was not alarming. In fact, it was, and what was worse was his apathy.

With the tip of her pen, the woman taps against the flat of her broad desk. "Is there anything troubling you at this moment?"

"No, ma'am." He lies, gnawing at his cheek.

"... Look," She delicately starts. "I didn't call you in here for your grades' sake, I called you in here for your sake."

What's the point really? If he were to ever tell anyone that he got a B- in AP Physics just because of a girl, the damnation would hurt more from the embarrassment rather than the rejection.

"I just.. Haven't been sleeping well."

That was a truth, sparcely. Like a half-baked meal. It seemed more plausible, if anything, rather than confessing the whole truth. Mrs. Vincent leaned back into her chair. ".. Is that so? Have you tried going to the clinic for a check up?"

He shakes his head. "No. I don't need to go to the clinic, ma'am. It'll pass in about a week."

At least, within the week, he'll learn of your answer.

Mrs. Vincent seemed only half-convinced. In the shallow tension, Miles hears the edge of her chair scraping, watching as she sits up taller. "Morales, you're a smart boy, but sometimes, you tend to overestimate your capabilities. That'll only drain you, and if it does, you'll get burnt out."

Miles stares and stares, mentally rereading and repeating the highlighted word 'irrevocable' on one of his classmates' papers. He didn't need this speech, he thinks. Some sort of bullshit that'll exit his mind the moment he walks out the door. But in the midst of her talking, Miles suddenly picks up.

"I know it must've been hard for you ever since the incident three years ago. I heard your father was... One of the casualties—"

"Ma'am." He blurts out. "Please, can I go home?"

She swallows the thick lump at her throat, taken aback by his forwardness.

"... O-of course."

And he's off to his own little world again. Away from the world he’s spent three, agonizing years grieving over. For once, he wanted to part from the tragedy that embodied him, and he wanted to brood like every other teenage boy.

Why can’t we be?

The two of you crossed the line of being friends the moment you latched your hand over his collar and mercilessly dragged him down for a kiss. You liked him, and he knew— knew too damn well about it. Your eyes weren’t great at lying, at least, not when it came to him. You hated wanting him, and yet you loved it all at the same time.

And that was also what he felt for you.

Weekend meetings, unspoken pasts. Miles knew not a thing about your family or your life, at times he’d think you’re a thriller, a mystery in the form of the prettiest face he’s ever seen. You were too damn good with words when they came off as casual flirts, but when it came to explaining your damn feelings, you were an utter mess.

But that's what he absolutely adored about you.

It was about that part of you that left him searching for you in the middle of the night.

When Thursday night arrived, Miles found himself trudging through the leaf-fallen streets of Brooklyn in search of you. Searching for a glimpse, a memory, or at least a semblance of you in the autumn weather. He could almost picture your figure prancing around him, could almost hear the sound of your giggles. Suddenly, the streets weren't as warm as they first seemed.

Instead, only hues of cold blue and silver surrounded him, like a dead winter that's yet to come.

Miles often walked the streets as though it all belonged to him. In a way, he was feared as a vigilante behind a mask. But at that moment, he wanted to own the streets as Miles Morales, and not the vicious Prowler half of New York eyed. In those streets, he didn't want to scheme about what he'd have to do and how he has to keep the borough safe.

Miles simply wanted to wander these streets as a lovestricken boy, which he was. Behind the mask, he was still a boy.

A boy who was so terribly in love with you.

All he needed was a yes.

But all you needed was space.

"I need time to think about.. This." He recalls you mumbling while holding onto his icy hands. "I need to sort out my thoughts about this first." At that moment, Miles adequately nodded, finding solace in your short answer.

You needed space, and Miles wanted to respect that. He'd been too harsh with you, he thinks.

But you thought of it as a wake up call— a sort of harsh pull from the icy waters you considered your comfort space.

It was also all that devoured your mind; the guilt was your most often visitor. You couldn’t look at his messages— you feared you’d say the wrong thing in text.

That morning, you’d suffered an incident.

"Fuck!"

You yelp, crashing down less than gracefully. You slam your palm against the floor, cursing a hundred curses beneath your breath. Victor, your partner, kneels before you worriedly, repetitively checking on you. Drearily, you deny his worries. "I'm fine, I'm fine— stop."

"Are you alright?" Eleanor steps in, peering over your leg. "Do you have a sprain? Can you walk?"

"I can—" As you try to move your leg, a piercing pain shoots through your ankle. You bite back another curse. "I'm fine. I just need to ice it— I'll be fine." Was your attempt to reassure her. Eleanor places a palm over her head, evidently frustrated. "I told you to slow down. The performance is in a week, is this what you plan on showing your audience?"

"I apologize. I haven't been feeling well as of late."

You can almost sense the disappointment scribbled all over her face. You didn't even have to look at her, the feeling was just all too familiar to miss. "… For now, I'll go fetch an assistant to aid you. Victor, help her up." Only then, Eleanor exits the room, leaving the both of you inside.

You couldn’t even focus on the damn tango. Everything was ruined for you— Miles ruined everything for you. All you could think of was twirling into his arms, and feeling the warmth of his hands over your waist.

You wanted it to be him. Wished for it to be him.

You glance at Victor awkwardly. And in your guilt, you ended up uttering a small apology. He reaches out a hand for you to hold, aiding you as you stood up. Begrudgingly, you limp towards one of the nearby seats. Victor stands before you, removing himself off of you as soon as you sat down.

"Are you alright?"

The question sparked something in you. Something most would call annoyance.

"I'm fine." You fake a smile. "Don't worry much."

Uptight, a little too uptight.

The whole thing about Miles bothered you in almost every aspect of your life, but no one noticed. Maybe some did, but no one asked. Was that better or was that heartbreaking?

You needed a break, and it was oh-so-graciously delivered when midnight dawned.

You often dreamed about drowning.

The feeling was unlike any other. You could still remember, the waters enveloping you in an icy embrace, as it seeped into your body, tempting you to become one with the ocean. You felt the cold blanket you, yet just like every other day, you felt this weirdly serene feeling enveloping your chest. It was like sleeping in the softest bed one could ever make.

You pulled your knees up to your chin, wrapping your hands around your shins as you allowed your mind to go completely blank.

You lifted your head and began to breathe again. Thus, your consciousness returned to the sights of the private pool. You effortlessly floated in the waters, eyes glued onto the dim ceiling. Like a corpse floating into the abyss. The dimness reminded you of the ocean at night, a sight that vanished along with the summer.

For the past days, you’ve been thinking about Miles.

Thinking about what to do, how to answer him.

“[Y/n]," A familiar voice calls out. Immediately, you stick your head out the water— finding a pair of eyes similar to your own staring right back at you. "Hey."

"Malachi." You call out to your younger brother. "It's midnight, sweetie. What brings you here?"

Timid and soft-spoken, you often insisted that Malachi was the best of all four of you, a true epitome of his name's meaning. Baby brother, you often teased. Somehow, the nickname remained befitting of him even though he's already ten. Time's always been your worst enemy.

"You weren't at dinner. I've been looking for you." He softly states, crouching before you like a frog. "Fernando cooked amish chicken, a-and I helped him cook, so I saved you a plate."

Sweet boy.

"Thank you, Mal." Your lips tug a small smile. "I'm sorry I missed dinner."

"It's fine." Malachi dips his tiny hand into the cold water. "I-I know you're busy and all that, so I just wanted to check if you're okay." Malachi pulls his hand back, wiping the water away on his shirt. "Seeing as how you're swimming right now, you're probably not okay."

You lift yourself up and rest your head over your crossed arms. "Wow, you really know me well, hm?" You flick your fingers at him, tiny droplets splashing at his face. Malachi giggles, wiping the water of him. ".. Of course, I do. It's what you always do." He splashed back at you. "But, why aren't you okay?"

You think of an easier way to explain your little situation.

".. I'm not okay because I've made one of my friends sad." You vaguely reply, allowing your lower half to float along with the rest of your body. "And because I made them sad, I'm trying to find a way to fix everything."

It was ironic, since you were the one refusing to look at his messages.

"... Have you tried saying sorry?" Malachi suggests. "Sorry always cuts it."

"... Not this time, Mal." You sadly smile. "I wish saying sorry could fix all of my problems."

Most of your problems consisted of people who wronged you first anyway. Plus, you weren't saintly enough to apologize to those who did you wrong— who the fuck were they to get an apology out of you?

You poke at Malachi's toe, hoping to hear his little laughs just to drain the heavy feelings inside of you for a moment, but he hums, almost like he's lost in thought, thinking a little too hard about your situation.

"... Maybe you didn't say it enough." He sat beside you, sticking his feet into the water. "Or maybe you said sorry about the wrong thing."

"About the wrong thing?" You repeat. Malachi nods. "Didn't you tell me that before I say sorry, I should first find out why I'm supposed to be apologizing in the first place?"

"That's right."

"Well, did you know why you had to apologize?"

Of course, you do.. You...

You sat there, thinking about it.

Malachi lifts his finger. "Maybe that's the reason why she's mad at you: you lied."

'Just tell me the truth.' You remember him saying so clearly.

Oh. Now, it all made sense.

"Huh." You breathlessly huff. "Since when did you get so mature?" Your fingers reach to lightly pinch his cheek. "My baby brother's getting all big now, hm?"

Malachi pouts. "I'm only telling you the things you tell me."

Right, it's easier to speak than to act.

"If only I could stop time like this, let you be my baby brother forever.” You murmur, beaming at his doe-like eyes. In a way, they reminded you much of a certain someone’s.

“… Now, let me go get a taste of your cooking." You swiftly dragged yourself out the pool. You reach for the towel just to dab it all over your limbs, when suddenly, you hear a short ding emit from your phone. As you dry your hair, your fingers tap over the screen, only to find:

Miles || 14 minutes ago

im at commodore rn

It was stupid.

Miles missed you a little too much. It was beyond your schedule, hell, beyond your limits. But for some reason, he finds himself still sending the text in hopes you'd arrive.

His shoulders droop, phone nearly brushing past the tips of his fingers. He kicks at the dirt beneath him, nudging the swing to sway. He didn't want to wait for tomorrow, you've left him sulking for five days— utterly desperate to hear how you sorted out your thoughts in the time he's spent yearning to fucking kiss you.

He needed to know. What was it entirely that made you so scared?

He had a million theories, but not one did he ever really stick onto.

But there was one that had been chewing at his back for a while now.

He stares at the night sky, feeling the cold wind envelop him. Miles had grown used to the cold- as the apprentice of the Prowler, he often stalked the streets in brick weather, at the peak of buildings where the winds were angrier. But for some reason, it was much colder tonight.

When rain started splattering against his cheeks, Miles knew.

"Fuck." He quietly cursed, pulling his hoodie over his head. An array of colorful curses exit his lips, the downpour of the rain heavy and merciless.

He picks himself up from the swing, off to search for a place to shelter himself from the livid skies.

It rained just like this when you two first met.

Hotel Primm, he remembers. The Greek pillars, the antique architecture, and the large, curtained windows. He remembers, never once forgot the place and all of the horrors it hid. He remembers gripping the can of red spray paint in his hand while marveling at your drenched beam. The wound was still fresh, even after three years. He believed you two shared the same sentiment. In the midst of the beautiful building that had buried hundreds of bodies, Miles watched you emerge from the shadows and enter the limelight that escaped from the windows. And with that pretty face of yours, you offered him. "Do you want to wreck this place together?"

Miles sensed that he'd always been a little too familiar with your figure.

Especially right now.

"Miles!"

Why were you in the hotel that night?

"Hey, wait!"

That hotel housed more bodies than a cemetery, why did you vandalize the place with him that night? Who did you lose in that incident?

He figured it would be a private matter— but you knew what had happened to his dad. If you did lose someone that night, you would've told him.

Why didn't you?

"Yo!" Your call bellows from across the pavement, paired with a couple coughs. Drenched in rain, you glided past the streets on a bike. You waved your hand, halting him immediately. There, everything seems to move at this glacially slow pace.

And that same piercing pain shoots at his head again. In that crimson hallucination, your figure approaches him like a lagging shadow, appearing next to his ear while whispering something he couldn't decipher. When you pull away, he finds your eyes glowing in this shade of scarlet— a menacing allure that even lulled him into enchabtment. In that vision, your voice in the present and your voice in his mind begin to overlap.

“Miles,”

“Miles.”

“Never forgive, never forget.”

"Miles, FUCK—"

Miles snaps from his thoughts at the sound of you crashing down. In the blink of an eye, you’re sprawled out on street– covered in slush. He sprints straight out to aid you, picking the bike up away from your body. Only then, he grabs your arm, picking you up from the jagged ground.

"Are you fucking crazy!?"

He yells, the sound of his voice muffled by the heavy pour. "Dumbass— the fuck are you doing, biking around in the middle of the rain like that? Are you hurt? You okay?”

You only burst out laughing at his worries.

"God I fucking hate myself."

You mumble in between wheezes. You rub your hand across your face in an attempt to clear your sights, holding onto Miles. Your lips part to speak. “God, I’m so fucking dumb— oh, god, I’m definitely going to get killed tomorrow. But it’s fine—“ You look at him. “I’m fine, yeah, so long as I get to do this.”

Miles looked at you confusingly as you rambled.

"Miles," You call out again, voice like gravel from your exhaustion. "I did it. I've made up my mind." You announce like some proud child. "I'm sorry, for hurting you, and for running away— I-I'm sorry for leaving you on read. Truth is, I'm an absolute fucking mess, like I’m going through a fuck ton of shit. And I'm scared of hurting you because of my bullshit, because– because I like you so much.”

There it was. The truth.

“I like you— and as much as I am a mess, I don’t want to ever lose you.” With a hand over your heart, you swear. “I ain’t gonna say shit about you deserving better, because I’ll be better. All for you.” Your hand skims through the air. “I might be fucked up in more ways than one, but I swear,”

"Motherfucker, didn't you fucking know that, that's the reason why I fucking like you so much?"

“Don’t— stop—“ You put a finger over his lips, hushing him. "Stop romanticizing my mental instability, that’s just adding up to my theory that my lore made me hotter." You laugh, head leaning backward from glee. This causes you to nearly slip, making you grip onto Miles' hand. His own subtly latches onto your waist just to catch you. You hardly even notice, but Miles simply watches, adoring this sight of you, crazily laughing beneath all the rain.

Miles, a vigilante feared by many after picking up the mantle to be the Prowler, had a heart. Most had nearly forgotten about this fact— as it had hardened all throughout the years— but he did have one.

Small and soft.

Flesh and blood.

Human. Nothing else.

Seeing you smile like that, laughing it all off, was enough of a reminder for Miles to remember that he’s just a boy. Not a masked avenger renowned for scraping through the hellish alleys while shouldering all of New York’s safety—

but a normal boy, still capable of liking, loving.

"Anyways, um," You manage to ease down momentarily. "I’ve been wanting to ask this for a long while now but.. W-would you like to go out sometime?" You finally blurt out.

He shakes his head. "That's my line, ma."

"Fuck that and fuck gender norms!"

"Nah, chivalry ain't dying tonight." He places his hands over your brows, shielding your eyes from the rain. There, your sights cleared up upon the sight of him, as though he were the sun dawning in the midst of a thundering sky.

“Would you go out with me, [Y/n]?”

You cup his cheeks, grinning widely. “Yes. I would love to.” Your lips then pressed a tiny peck on the tip of his freckled nose.

Miles squeezes a smile in between your hands, eventually poking a finger into his lips.

“How ‘bout ere?” He pouts. “Ain’t I gettin sum here?”

“C-can I?”

“Can you?” The question took him by surprise. He straightens his lips. “You didn’t seem to hesitate at all last week.”

“I-I’m sorry. I really should’ve asked you first but—“

“Mami, estoy bien.” He reassures of you. “Ahora quiero mi beso.”

Steadily, you arch your toes, reaching out for his lips. This time, he bends over to reach you— and when he does, your lips gently collide with a small peck. So short, momentary, and it hardly fulfills his yearning. At that moment, your gazes meet, but his were constantly shifting between the gleam in your eyes and the smudged rouge on your lips. Miles pulls the hoodie of your jacket over your head, fingers tracing down behind the lines of yours ears and down to the nape of your neck.

“Aye bendito, I waited too long for this.”

He murmurs before pulling you in to crash his lips against yours. The rough way he does it was foreign— his lips roaming to taste you, gnawing at the cherry flavor of your gloss. You wrap your arms around his neck, mulling him down to your level. When your lips would part, you’d feel him slyly smirking at your desperation.

“We still friends, mami?” He whispers. “You gon’ tell me that shit again?”

You airily shook your head.

“Buena nena,” He sighs. “Cause if this is how you be treatin yo friends, ain’t nobody gonna live to see the light of day again.”

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morethansalad · 1 year

Text

Sakura Lychee Spritz Mocktail (Vegan)

#vegan #drinks #mocktails #sakura #edible flowers #cherry blossoms #lychee #sakura powder #sparkling water #💗

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wing-ed-thing · 10 months

Text

Guard Dog (Shino x Reader)

Synopsis: You took care of him in your childhood at his most vulnerable. Now, Shino wants to do the same for you.

Word Count: 1k

Tags/Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Reader Injury, Gender Neutral Reader

Notes: Have you ever noticed that whenever one of my Readers gets injured it’s always the... same injury? Me too.

You’d take it to the grave; he knew you would. That’s why he entrusted you with his care. Not being a medical ninja, you threw together all the home remedies you could think of. It was a sleepless night.

Shino still remembered the next morning when he was finally feeling a bit more like himself— albeit a bit sore. He woke up to the hazy blue that dawn cast upon the early morning. You lay curled on his floor, your head barely on his shikibuton as you slept. He took in the shape of your nose, your chin. Loose hairs fanned out from your bandana over the woven fabrics. Cups, crushed herbs, and wrappers sat scattered around you, evidence of your rigorous endeavors the night before. Maybe all of your little efforts amounted to enough to clear the poison. Or perhaps, Shino wondered, his body cleared on its own. For your labor, he would like to consider the first option.

And in Shino’s twisted concept of loyalty, you had proven yourself ten times over.

Years had gone by since then. The war and the Allied Shinobi Forces' strife had come and gone, and you treated Shino with the same formality you always did.

You passed each other on the battlefield or during a patrol or two during reconstruction. You greeted him with a cordial smile, and he acknowledged you with a stoic nod, all memories from your childhood distant as you entered adulthood. But Shino always kept you in one manner or another, holding you in the corner of his eye when you were near. His thankfulness, like many other things, remained unspoken.

He couldn’t help but notice how similar you looked, recalling the night you had fallen asleep caring for him. You lay sprawled out on the forest floor. He took in the shape of your eyes and the blood dribble pouring from your lip. Sakura knelt over you, holding a blood-soaked rag to your side wound as green light cast harsh shadows on your face. Fallen leaves mixed with your hair.

Shino stood tall and alert, listening for the subtlest noises in the trees. Sakura caught his tinted eyes, glancing briefly down at you before giving a small shake of her head. There wouldn’t be any way to retreat while you were injured. Sakura switched out the saturated rag with a clean one, the used towel making a heavy, wet plopping sound as it landed on the ground. Your blood seeped into the dirt.

Shino stared at the scene, and instantly, his entire swarm emerged. Bursting from underneath his jacket, beetles rapidly enveloped the nearby landscape. They surrounded the three of you in a circle. The multitude marched outwards, almost multiplying by the hundreds as Shino sent them into the surrounding woods. The carpet of insects moved swiftly, enveloping every log, leaf, and tree like a creeping plague.

Even as they fell out of Sakura’s sight, she could hear the anguished screams of enemy scouts. As dusk fell, she could hear an occasional thump in the distance. The sound of corpses falling out of trees.

The sun had set by the time Sakura got you stabilized. Without proper equipment— not to mention working on a bed of dirt— the feat took longer than she had anticipated. Your injuries were severe. She collapsed beside you, arms outstretched as dried blood stained her hands. She wiped her brow with her forearm.

Shino’s large form hovered over her, a canteen in his outstretched hand. She cupped her palms together, allowing Shino to pour a steady stream of fresh water and powdered disinfectant onto her stained hands. The stream traveled toward the fire Shino had made, the moisture sucked up between the ground and the heat.

“Take a rest,” he told her, maneuvering to where you lay. Shino sat at your side, elbows resting on his bent knees. He studied every shallow breath and labor of your chest. Leaning carefully over you, he pressed an ear to your heart.

“It’ll be okay, Shino,” Sakura said, wrapping herself in a blanket on the other side of the fire. “We’ll get to a hospital in the morning after I’ve ensured everything’s still stable. You should rest too.” He hummed, not quite acknowledging her, and not too long after, Sakura fell asleep from exhaustion.

Shino kept watch as the fire crackled. It was about all that made noise in the forest that night. There were no birds or bugs, just the sound of the fire and your light breathing.

Your eyes cracked open sometime in the night. Shino sat where he had been, keeping an eye on the dark woods that surrounded him.

“Shino?” It came out barely as a whisper. His head snapped towards you, maintaining his alertness. He leaned forward to get a better look at your face. “We got it… right?” The corners of your lips began to tug up into a smile, faltering.

“Yes, we did,” he said, as matter of factly as usual. “Sleep; we’re moving out in the morning.” He returned to where he sat and stared into the darkness again.

“Is it just you on watch—?” You attempted to sit up, to which Shino swiftly placed a hand on your shoulder. You remained where you laid.

“Sakura was working on you for a few hours. She needs her rest.” A small beetle crawled up Shino’s cheek and under his glasses. “I do not need rest.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off. His voice grew softer and quieter than usual. “You did the same for me… a long time ago.”

You thought to yourself, gaze cast off to the side until it dawned on you.

“That one mission with Naruto,” you spoke, and Shino nodded slightly. “That was a long time ago.” You watched the fire flicker in the reflection of his glasses.

“Was it?” He stared off somewhere else, still alert for anything that could threaten your squad in the trees. With the radius Shino cleared, you wouldn’t encounter another person your whole way home.

“Thank you, Shino,” you rasped. “I know I can always count on you.” You mustered what little strength you could to brush your fingers against his. His thumb gently traced your knuckles, paying no mind to the dried blood on your skin.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

Silence overtook the night again as Shino kept an eye on the woods.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Dare I say that Shino is a bit... creepy in this?? OOOO spooky!! I made it dark and then I had to remember to make it kinda cute

If you liked this work, I highly recommend Honey Stand!

#shino x reader #shino aburame x reader #Shino aburame #shino #naruto x reader #naruto fanfic #Shino fanfic #naruto fanfiction #Shino fanfiction #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #x you #x reader #reader insert #naruto

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thebottomfromhell · 4 months

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Can i request uppermoons x GN reader baking with them for the first time? (fluff)

A very cute prompt! I will be using mostly Japanese desserts for this, I hope you don't mind. Also, some will be more fond with the kitchen than others, specially since none of these guys can eat human food. Still, I hope you like it.

Uppermons baking with GN Human Reader for the first time

Warnings: Manga spoilers, Implied child prostitution, Sexism, Implied polyamory relationship (the clones) and Douma is his own warning.

Gyutaro (ft. Daki):

Daki was a lot more enthousiastic with the idea than him, she already knows slightly about cooking, mostly because she needs to know about food when she recomends meals to clients, since she herself can't know what is good based on taste. Gyutaro is straight up ignorant with these things, he can't even recall having anything sweet or savoury in his human life, only the ghost of rice and the taste of rawness. He let's you and Daki decide what to do. "Let's do sakura mochi and matcha mochi!" He chothose oflavor due the color, but you are more than ok. In the end he is just making the Sakura pouder as you and Daki make the dough.

Still, he seems content by just looking at you both make fun, making most of it as you mix the cream with the respective powder to make the filling. Once the doughs and filling are done, it's you and Daki the ones that make the balls as Gyutaro starts cleaning everything after you both. "Are you sure you don't want to help us the the mochi? It's fun to get yout hands dirty with it." You offer but are denied. "Ne, I prefer cleaning up your mess. Not sure you would want my hands in something you will eat, ne." "Nah, I'm pretty sure your hands are safe." Daki lets a happy squeak as she finidhes her part, having a group of pink mochi, still giggling as she has been the whole process. "Onii-chan! Look! Don't they look good?"

And as Gyutaro has been the whole time, he smiles softly to both of you as he pats you haid and Daki's. "They look great, ne. Both of you are really talented. Y/N, ne, you might want to see how they taste. It would be a waste to throw them, ne." You smile cheekly before teasing. "How about you feed me, then?" He blushes and looks as if he wants to say something while looking away, but Daki interrupts. "NO! You can eat by your own! Onii-chan doesn't have to feed you as if you were a child!" She scolds you while going to grab her brothers arm, looking at you as a challenge. You only laught it off, seeing Gyutaro smile shyly before calming his sister down.

The mochi taste good, as sweat as the experience, but you made too much for yourself and the other too can't eat (Also the fact the texture is a bit off because you all were a bit careless with the measurements). But Gyutaro is right, it would be a waste to not eat them... If your tummy hurts after eating them all, it's a you problem.

Gyokko:

Gyokko is not into cooking, he admires culinary arts, but that is not for him. It took him some begging, a bit of annoying the shit out of him and A LOT of praising for him to accept. First thing Gyokko does is look at the recipe of taiyaki (it was one of his conditions to make it with you, so you were forced to get the fish mold) and then.. throws it away. "Ok, I got it. Now let's cook." He mostly makes you into an assistant, making you get the ingredients. "Don't worry darling, I will let you fry it, but I already lave the perfect image for this." He adds and mixes the ingredients mostly by instinct, and bieng fully aware you are the one who is going to be eating that, you fear for your life.

"Hey, Gyokko, love... are you sure you don't want me to get the cooking book again? I don't think those are the measurements we were instructed..." Gyokko only scoff as he keeps mixing the ingredients. "Of course not. How could a book know more that the wise eyes of an artist?" Yep, he is too much into himself, but... these are just pancakes ingredients, as long as you cook it well, it should not be harmful to you. After he finishes, Gyokko hands you the mix, it looks good, a nice color and texture, very clean, and he kisses the side of your face. "There you go."

Gyokko only looks at you as you pour the mix and the red bean paste into the oiled mold before you close it and heat it, unlike him, you make sure the fire and the time is the same as the book, keeping it a few seconds more, but no more than a minute, to make sure it cooks well. Once the time is up you open the mold to see the fish shape perfectly gold and toasted, and the smell was nice too. You decide to have a little bit more faith because of it, so you keep making more to use up all the mix while the frist one cools down. Still, Gyokko looks amused of how you keep turning to see the fish-shaped pancakes.

Then the moment of truth, the fear comes back the secong you take one taiyaki into your mouth, only to be surprised with a fluffy texture with the sweatness. It's... actually very good. "Gyokko... HOW?" He only laughs at your surprise. "Well, of course I would know, the eye of an artist is the best." You are torn into making cook more since he has a natural talent ot tell him to never do it again for the sake of not feeding his ego. Damned Gyokko, you think as you keep eating.

Hantengu:

To your surprise, Hantengu knows how to cook, so he happily complied into making some melonpan. He seemed to ignore you through the whole process, relaxing as he mixes the ingredients in a bowl without even looking at the recipe. He claims he holds some memories of cooking for the wives and children he had when he was human, nothing precise, but it's still there, like a muscle memory that has not left him fully, the same of the memory of hiding, of covering his face instinctly, a twitch in his hand meant for stabbing. He was old when he became a demon, unlike all the other Uppermoons, who did not live even half of the time he did as human, even the master was pretty young when he became the first demon. Unlike others, he managed to form habits as a human, and those habits would never die.

"You need to add more butter." You add yourself whenever the book says he is doing something wrong, not wanting to disturb the peace, enjoying the comforting silence. Usually, Hantengu´s frantic breathing, whines and even sobs don't let you enjoy time in silence with him, unless you are feeling sadistic and want to bully him, but this is relaxing. You also have your own bowl where you are making dough, mostly switching in between following the instructions on the book and following his lead. "Oh... right, tha-thank you..."

Besides that some corrections, you don't really talk to each other, but you are fine, making sure to make a lot since you are planning on sharing with friends and family, Hantengu shows no qualms on it. He can get jealous pretty easily, but he doesn't mind sharing as long as he has in in his reach (he will get insecure no matter what, so why make it hard for you and make you want to leave?). "Here hold it like this so you can cut it more easily." Is the only thing he says to you after you have the forms made, making the last details. He holds your wrists gently to guide the movements, being stables in contrast of the usual tremblings. Maybe, if it was not for his past and impulses, he would be better made for a simple life, a fake ilusion of safety.

You don't mind the new silence as the dough bake, but normalcy returns the second the bread is out of the oven. You take a bite to try it once the baked goods cool down, it has a nice texture, soft on the insides but with a slight crinch on top. You need to do it again, you think as you start hearing the whines and pants on the corner.

Hantengu Clones:

These guys are a disaster. For starters, Urogi got protective on the eggs, so you had to look for a recipe that didn't include them. So you are doing a sponge cheesecake, or well. Aizetsu is making a sponge cheesecake, following the recipe step by step, making sure the measurements and the order is correct, since he can't taste the mix to know if it's good or not with his demon tongue. Meanwhile Urogi is... taking care of the eggs, Sekido is supervising and complaining for everything that gets dirty in the process and Karaku is distracting you from getting your eggs back.

"C'mon love, you look so cute while making cake, but why don't you... relax a while. Urogi is not changing his mind and if you keep trying so hard you will get an ugly and unfixable frown in your face like Sekido." You want to complain, Urogi is perfectly fine with you eating chicken and any other type of meat, but the second you try to make something with eggs, that mind you are not that cheap to keep buying, he draws a line. Still, Sekido's growling voice rises up first. "THE FUCK YOU SAID ABOUT MY FACE, KARAKU?!" The anger clone goes directly to the pleasure, ready to start a fight in the kitchen, so the situation morphes into you trying to calm them down before they destroy the place with Urogi chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight! I bet a human leg on Sekido!"

""Mix vigorously until well combined", again? Why can I add all this ingredients at once instead of having to alternate?" Meanwhile Aizetsu is just ignoring you all for the sake of baking, fully concentrating on it. Which is good, at least some baking will be done with all the shenanigans going around. "Sekido, don't use the staff in my kitchen! NOT IN MY KITCHEN!" "You heard Y/N! Not in the kitchen! You wouldn't want to make a mess, would you?" "I'm gonna kill you, you bastard!" "Aren't we technically all from the same parents?" "SHUT THE FUCK UP, UROGI!" "SEKIDO, NO! HE STILL HAS MY EGGS!" "Put slowly the mix into a greased mold with a parchment paper..." Aizetsu knows batter than to care.

At least until the mixture goes to the ove, then he turns around and see you and Karaku holding Sekido, the secong bloodied from an attack the anger clone did on him, with Urogi laughings his ass off as he hold all your eges in his arms, threatening to fly as the wings would make a bigger mess. "Excuse, what is going on?" You all turn around and see him surprised, suddenly stopping as if you all had just being caught doing something wrong as those confused puppy eyes look at you all. "No, nothing Aizetsu. We should just start baking." Then he points up to the oven. "Actually, I already did everything. It should be done in 45 minutes." You look surprised, making you look around as Urogi congratulates Aizetsu, Karaku laughs and Sekido scoffs. "How?"

You are to one who tries the cake, obviously. It's perfectly done, step by step, so it's good, a bit less fluffy than you expected it to be by it's looks, but still good. "Sorry we left you doing all the work, Aizetsu." He shrugs. "I don't mind, it was relaxing. I could do it again."

Nakime:

Nakime always hated to do the chores, it was one of the she was the happiest when she became a demon with a power like hers. The castles sustainst itself, everything can be reformed, replaced, transformed and created, as long as she has her biwa and enough space in this unlimited ientnteional world. She didn't have to take care of a useless man that expected her to have the house clean and food on the table with the little money she made and he wasted like the air and space he took. She never thought she would ever step into a kitchen again, but of course...

"C'mon Nakime, pleeeeaase?" She hates you, how did you even manage to convince her? You are stubborn as hell. In the end she agrred to supervise and help (if you needed it) to the cooking... of a moon cake. You just wanted to make a moon cake and didn't know how to start, didn't you? In the end you manage to concince her to make the lotus paste, but she just watches as you do the dough and put the egg yolk inside of it, she guiding you through the process everytime you get lost on the recipe, she keeping the reading. The meal looks intimidating, but it's not so hard to make if instructed.

She doesn't speak through the whole process, but you keep smiling at her, grateful that she is here. "Now you only need to put it on the oven." Nakime uses her biwa to give you an pre-heated oven... sometimes you wish you could have her powers. In the wait, Nakime plays for you, it was not as bad as she remembered it, still she would never go back into cooking, specially now that she can't eat. Still, spending time with you made it a bit worth it, not that she will let you do this more often, her days as a housewife were long gone even before she became a demon.

"Is it good?" Nakime asks the second you give it a try, seeing how happy the first bite made you, she knew it was, but still was amused so she decided to ask, only for you to vocalize it. "It's very good!" That is good enough.

Akaza:

Akaza was unsure at first, a part of him felt like being in the kitchen was natural, since he inmediately knew how to get the ingredients for a sweet, getting the eggs for a datemaki. Even if the kitchen of a Taisho era was slightly different, he got into it too easily, but also... "Why are you making sweet rolled omelette?" You asked him when you realized he was set on doing it, not even needing to look at the recipe book. You know it's a sweet form the Edo period, when Akaza was human, but the fact that. he went straight to make it still felt odd. "You like it, don't you? I made it several tim-" He stops in his tracks, pausing a moment before just concentrating in cooking.

He let you help and guided you through the making of the mixture, showing you hoe he makes it. He pours a lot of care into it, knowing by muscle memory how much to add of everything, moving smoothly as he let's you handle it for whiles before taking the lead once again, making sure to praise you constantly. "Yes, just like that. I will pre-heat the oven. I know you can handle it for a bit, you are doing great." He is gentle and soft, looking a bit... sad. He can't remember, but he used to make these for Koyuki while she was sick, having to learn from scratch as Keizo didn't know how to cook but the girl told him her mother used to make them for her. It's important to make them right, for her to feel home the same way he did around her, he wants you to feel home, to feel your own life, when you try it.

He still praises you, carresing your face softly as you both wait for it to heat up, gently urging you to seat down, setting the table in front of you as he moves back and forward to check that it hasn't burnt. He treats you like this sometimes, as if you needed to be taken care of, and even like this he doesn't stop. Still, you can see that, even if he is worried, nostalgic and melancholic... he smiles towards you, happy to be sharing this. Koyuki also came to help him to the kitchen once she felt better, he taught her how to cook, this meal included, but the first times it was too much effort to her and the heat of the oven made her head hurt, so Hakuji always made sure for her to rest with some tea while he finished cooking. "Here, have some tea. Relax."

He serves you a healthy amount, not too much, not too little, and gently reminds you he can serve you more if you want but you also don't have to eat it all if you can't. The brownish colour of the outside contrast slightly the yellow of the thes of the roll, you take a bite and... it's delicious. There is something of it that, while the texture and taste can't make it the best thing you have ever ate, could still become your favorite. It's comforting, warm, peaceful. You look at Akaza, who smiles softly at you when you also smile. "I love it! You are a very good cook." He laughs a little, clearly happy. "You think so? Maybe I should start cooking for you, then." He teases, and you both wish you could stay like this forever.

Douma:

As you might have guessed, this is the first time Douma has ever stepped into a kitchen in his long, long life. "Oh! So this is how the kitchen look. I always thought they would be more messy!" His follower try urging him to get back to his room, to the gardens, to the corriders, anywhere but the kitchen. Some even look at you as if you insulted their family name and every grave that shares it, because none of them liked the idea of Douma cooking. To some it was because of Douma's status, why should he cook when people should be serving him and filling his basic needs? To have the god's messenger doing the maid's job, what an insult! Others... well...

Other knew Douma's true character, that he would definetely set something on fire only for the sake of it. You knew that, so you decided to just try and make yokan, since it doesn't requiere cooking. At that, the rest of the followers calmed down and gave up on taking the "Great Founder" out. What could they do against his wishes? Some stayed in case anything happens. Nothing wrong at first, deiding to go for a sweet potato flavor for some and matche yonkos for the other. The kitchen had already everything you needed to make those sweets, most kids of the followers enjoy it. Douma remembers Kotoha asking for the types of foods her son would be allowed to eat, and he promised anything he wanted. For you, he had the same reaction.

It was a simple recipe, the kenten did most of it, if not all. Everything else was watching out for the temperature of the water and mix it until it fuses. Very easy, and int Douma's mind, very boring. Maybe you should have seen it coming, staying safe was never part of his main interests, not when basically nothing can really hurt him. Physical pain? With how fast it heals it's barely a sting to keep the adrenaline and endorphins running. Emotional pain? Never heard of it. Mental pain? Why? He is above any type of problem both demons and humans could have. So exploding the kitchen on purpose the second you got up to speak to another follower because of the insistence that you were violating the cooking shift... was a must.

"DOUMA WHAT THE FUCK?!" You screamed on top of your lungs as his wounds healed, having him laughing it off carelessly, clearly amused by your reacting as every cell is replaced with a new and yourger one from the master's blood. "Oops, guess this things happen when you don't know what you are doing. So sorry about it, I swear it was an accident." What a liar. Needless to say, nobody got any yokan at all.

Kokushibou:

... Kokushibou doesn't cook, doesn't bake, that was his wife's and the maid's job, once it was his mother's and, again, the maid's job, not his. Desserts are included in this, his wife used to make him sweets at the first year of their marriage, but he constantly rejected them so she stopped. He was never into sweets, never ate them since anytime he was given one he wuold give it to his brother, even if that gained a scolding or a beating, so he never developed a taste for them. So the second you asked him to bake something with you his answer was a long stare before leaving you alone, speeding up when you went after him.

Really, you only managed to get him to stay in the kitchen while you made Dorayaki, something simple and traditional, By his point of view, staying didn't really make sense to Kokushibou. He doesn't know how to cook, it's not interested in doing the "woman's job in the house" and he can't even taste anything you make, not that he would if he could, but still. Part of him is tempted to leave now that your attention is not on him, but he just... stays, looking at you. You seem content doing this, and he can't really understand why. How can you be contenct with something so simple while all his life he was chasing a figure that was as godly as it was close from the womb? How can you be satisfied doing these kind of things when others have powers beyond a human should have, being in the blood or lungs?

He just looks at you, the silence being comforting and peaceful, almost like meditating as he looks at you mixing the ingredients, humming a bit sometimes only to focus again on your task. This is so... other, for him. He has never belonged to the kitchen and never planned to, so he couldn't understand anything. Specially why do you find his presence peaceful and comforting too. You only start frying the pancakes the second you talk to Kokushibou again. "Maybe next time you can join in." You tease before looking at him with a smirk. He si definetely not falling for it, so you just finish and serve yourself.

The pancakes were fine, as good as anything you can make, nothing bad but also nothing beyond your abilities. Still, Kokushibou's next words made the dish even sweeter. "I will clean, you enjoy the meal." He knows more or leass how to do it, and he doesn't think it can be that hard. Even if this is the only way he is filling to interact with the activity, you are happy he is willing to get outside his comfort zone for your sake. "Thank you, Kokushibou. I appreciate it." He blushes slightly, nods, cleans the kitchen and leaves the house without saying anything the second the sun is down... now, if only he wasn't so shy and petty...

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kny x reader #top reader #karaku #urogi #gyutaro #aizetsu #sekido #hantengu #gyokko #nakime #akaza #douma #kokushibou

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