So Cute!

So cute!

drunken confessions | xavier

synopsis : After finals, you and your friends head to your usual barbecue stall to celebrate—only for your longtime crush, Xavier, to show up unexpectedly. A few drinks later, he drunkenly (and then soberly) confesses he’s in love with you, turning a chaotic, hilarious night into something unexpectedly sweet and unforgettable.

content : college!au, comedy, fluff, another crackhead energy writing

writer’s note : i’m enjoying this type of writing too much. I think i’ve watched too much How I Met Your Mother. (This is the fic version of this)

Finals were finally over.

You threw your arms into the air like a victorious gladiator leaving the academic coliseum alive. “Freedom!” you cheered, walking down the campus path flanked by your equally war-torn comrades.

“God, it’s finally over,” your friend moaned dramatically to your right, sounding like she was about to crumple to the pavement.

“Right? We have to celebrate!” the one on your left chimed in, already scrolling through food delivery apps as if her life depended on it.

You chuckled, adjusting your backpack like a soldier laying down arms. “You guys go ahead. I need to shower—get this stress off me. Usual spot?”

They both nodded, disappearing into the horizon with the determination of people about to inhale an irresponsible amount of meat skewers.

Cut to twenty minutes later, you emerged from your dorm freshly showered and wrapped in your favorite jacket—the one that made you feel marginally less like a zombie.

You made your way to the holy grail of campus hangouts, the barbecue stall.

Ah yes, the sacred grounds of burnt chicken, cheap beer, and emotionally unhinged exam rants.

You stepped into the familiar haze of grilled smoke and MSG, and two seniors waved you over, already parked at the corner table with a spread fit for a post-war feast.

You lit up immediately, sliding into your seat like it had always been waiting for you.

The food smelled divine, the beer was cold, and most importantly—finals were over.

Banter filled the air as skewers were devoured. Eventually, the chaos mellowed, and the group began talking about future plans—internships, travel, sleep, mostly sleep.

That’s when the friend to your right leaned in with all the grace of a gossiping gremlin.

“Maybe Y/N will finally confess to that cute upperclassman.”

You nearly inhaled your drink through your nose.

You smacked her arm lightly. “Xavier is just a friend,” you said with all the conviction of a bad liar, even as your face turned a spectacular shade of red that had nothing to do with the beer.

You sighed in relief. At least the subject of your ongoing emotional crisis wasn’t—

“Oh hey, look. It’s Xavier,” one of the seniors announced casually, tilting their head toward the entrance.

You froze.

You turned.

There he was.

Xavier—silver hair soft under the glow of the stall lights, hands in his coat pockets, that calm, unreadable face that haunted your thoughts way more than was socially acceptable.

The first time you saw him, you forgot what your own name was.

Your soul left your body.

You lunged for your friend’s arm like you were going down with the ship. “Why is he here??” you hissed in a voice three octaves higher than normal.

She shrugged, entirely unbothered.

“I dunno. He’s alone though. Wanna invite him over?” Her brows wiggled like the devil’s own dance.

“No—!”

Too late.

A senior had already stood up and was walking over.

You watched, helpless, as he approached Xavier.

Your stomach folded in on itself.

Xavier’s eyes scanned the table—and then, like fate personally hated you, they landed on yours.

He smiled. Just slightly. Just enough to ruin your life.

Then he nodded and turned to follow the senior.

You screamed internally, gripping your friend’s arm again. “He’s coming! He’s coming over here!”

Your friend leaned in calmly. “Don’t worry. Just act normal.”

You stared at her, deadpan. “I don’t have a normal.”

She snorted—loudly—and you could already feel impending doom approaching.

“Hey, you can sit here,” she chirped sweetly, standing up and offering her seat like a traitor with no conscience, despite the death glare you were very clearly aiming at her skull.

Xavier murmured a quiet, “Thanks,” before settling down right next to you.

Right next to you.

There went your pulse.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice so calm it made you want to simultaneously scream and crawl into the nearest dumpster.

You turned your head, smiling a little too stiffly. “Hey,” you replied, sounding more like a malfunctioning toaster than a functioning human being.

Then, in a move of pure survival, you downed the rest of your beer in one desperate gulp.

From your left, your friend immediately started snickering. Snickering.

You didn’t even look at her.

You just sent a slow, withering glare in her direction that said, I hope your next skewer falls in the dirt.

She only laughed harder.

Xavier blinked, a little amused. “Rough exam?”

“No,” you said, still trying to recover. “Just… social interaction.”

“Ah,” he nodded, like he understood completely. “Terrifying.”

You stared at him. He stared back.

Then your friend—not knowing the value of peace and silence—stage whispered, “Just kiss already.”

You reached for another beer. Or maybe a skewer. Or maybe a time machine. Anything to get you out of this.

“I hope you trip and fall,” you muttered loud enough for your so-called friend to hear, punctuating it with another desperate gulp of beer.

She only cackled harder.

Next to you, Xavier chuckled under his breath—quiet, warm, unfairly attractive.

You caught the slight curve of his lips as he picked up a skewer and took a bite, looking far too composed for someone who just sat next to a human panic attack.

“So,” he began, casually, like this was a normal night and not a social emergency. “What was your last exam?”

You blinked.

Brain, Say words.

Mouth, “…Yes.”

He paused, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes?”

You cleared your throat, scrambling. “I mean—econ. Not yes. I didn’t mean yes. Unless… yes to the exam. But no to—uh, wait, what was the question again?”

Smooth. So smooth you were practically sandpaper.

Xavier raised an eyebrow, amused. “I was asking about your exam, not proposing marriage.”

You choked on your skewer. Your friend howled with laughter.

Somewhere deep inside, your soul quietly filed for early retirement.

A couple more beers—and the gentle numbing of your social anxiety—and you finally found your voice.

Actual sentences started leaving your mouth.

You laughed. You cracked a joke.

You even made eye contact.

Progress.

Xavier, for his part, listened attentively, nodding along and asking questions with that same soft interest of his.

The conversation flowed easier than you’d expected, the awkward tension slowly dissolving into something… almost comfortable.

Until his fourth glass.

That was when you noticed it.

His cheeks were flushed, just a little pinker than usual. His gaze lingered too long on things that weren’t all that interesting—like the table, your cup, your face.

He swayed a little as he reached for another skewer, missing it by a good inch and playing it off like the plate had moved.

If it were anyone else, you might not have noticed.

But it was Xavier.

And you totally hadn’t memorized the way he carried himself or anything.

His composure was still there, somehow—his tone even, his voice calm—but his body? Oh no. His body was absolutely staging a rebellion.

You leaned in slightly, brow raised. “Are you… drunk?”

He blinked at you, then squinted like he was trying to read your face through a fog. “I’m perfectly fine,” he said, placing the skewer onto his plate with the delicate precision of someone who had just lost depth perception.

You stifled a laugh. “That’s not even your plate.”

He looked down. “Ah.”

Your friend, now watching from across the table like this was premium entertainment, whispered, “He’s gonna confess. I feel it.”

You turned to her with narrowed eyes. “If he does, you better start planning the wedding since this’ll be your fault.”

“I’m not drunk,” Xavier insisted, his voice smooth and composed, like he was delivering a formal report instead of swaying gently like a tree in a light breeze.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped. “Oh yeah? Can you still drink?”

He nodded—slowly, like he had to process the question through a slight fog—and then reached for his cup with the determination of someone about to win an Olympic medal in denial.

You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the full-body urge to scream at how unfairly cute he was being.

All around you, the chaos was beginning to unfold.

Your friends and a couple of the seniors were starting to slump, leaning into one another with flushed faces and increasingly bold declarations of love for fried chicken.

One guy was trying to sing to a soy sauce bottle.

You were tipsy yourself—lightheaded, warm, giggly—but still functioning.

Xavier, though?

Xavier was in a league of his own.

He still sat upright, in that proper, princely sort of way.

A little hunched forward like he was concentrating deeply on not tipping over.

His fingers rested delicately on the rim of his glass, unmoving.

But his eyelids… oh, his eyelids were betraying him. Half-lidded, heavy, with the softest, dazed look. Like he’d drift off mid-sentence or start quoting poetic nonsense about the moon.

He blinked slowly, like the concept of time had just become optional.

You glanced at him—and promptly had to grip the edge of your chair to stop yourself from swooning like a Victorian lady in a corset.

Because this was criminal.

He was a soft flush of pink and sleepy eyes and subtle swaying, still trying so hard to be composed.

And you, poor mortal you, had to pretend like you weren’t enchanted by every second of it.

“You okay?” you asked, gently, quietly.

He turned to you, blinking slowly, like your voice was music.

“…Your eyes are really sparkly,” he murmured, out of nowhere.

You stared.

Your brain short-circuited.

Your friend across the table dropped her chopsticks in delight.

“What?” was the only semi-functional sound your brain managed to produce.

Xavier just blinked at you, slowly, like he hadn’t just casually dropped a romance-novel bomb in the middle of your beer-stained dinner table.

Your entire face ignited. Your soul, body, and spirit were currently rotating in a microwave.

You tried to laugh it off, punching his arm lightly in that awkward, ha-ha-we’re-just-buddies-right kind of way.

“U-Uhm, nice one,” you stammered, cheeks blazing, “Ha ha…”

He didn’t laugh.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even pretend like it was a joke.

Instead, he kept swaying gently in place, silver hair a little messy, his blue eyes half-lidded but unwavering—like he was trying to memorize your face in 144p resolution.

And then, he did it.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he said, slurring ever so slightly.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Your brain rebooted. “I’m sorry, what?”

He tilted his head lazily, looking dead serious in the way only drunk people and toddlers could manage.

“No,” he corrected softly. “I am in love with you.”

It wasn’t even dramatic. No violin swell. No romantic sparkles.

Just Xavier, stating it like he was confirming his name on a test paper.

Your entire body malfunctioned.

Across the table, your friend audibly choked on her drink.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Mostly because your thoughts were somewhere between did he just say that, what do I do with my hands, and oh no he’s so pretty when he’s drunk this is unfair.

Xavier blinked at you again, that tiny sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really warm,” he added, like that was relevant.

You were going to ascend. Or pass out. Or maybe both.

All you knew was, finals were over, the beer was too strong, and Xavier—your Xavier—just confessed to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Without warning, Xavier reached up—slow, a little wobbly, but with full drunken confidence—and gently tapped your cheek with the back of his fingers like he was checking if you were running a fever.

“Even your face is warm,” he mumbled, slurring just enough to make your heart explode.

You short-circuited.

“Y-You can’t just say stuff like that!” you blurted, eyes wide, voice pitched several octaves above sanity.

He blinked at you, completely unfazed, expression dead serious. “But it’s true.”

Your brain actually lagged.

Which part?

The part where he said he was in love with you?

Or the part where your face was warm?

Because frankly, both were devastating, but only one had you questioning the very fabric of your reality.

He was still staring at you—head tilted slightly, like a confused puppy but hotter—while your internal organs were folding into themselves like origami.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Tried again. Failed.

Somewhere in the background, your friend whispered, “I knew it. I knew it,” like she’d just won the love confession lottery.

“I like being around you,” Xavier says, like he’s commenting on the weather.

Calm. Collected.

Unbothered by the fact that he’s casually dismantling your nervous system.

He pauses, gaze drifting downward to his hands like they just revealed a deep cosmic truth to him.

Then, in the same sleepy, matter-of-fact voice, he adds,

“I believe that also means… I love you.”

And that’s it.

That’s your cause of death.

Not the beer. Not the stress of finals.

But this. Xavier, casually confessing like it’s just another Tuesday.

You practically combust. “X-Xavier, s-stop!” you stammer, hands flailing like you could physically swat his words out of the air.

He frowns immediately, the expression so heartbreakingly sincere that you panic harder. “Should I take it back?”

“NO!” you blurt, horrified at the idea, mortified that you said it so fast.

He blinks, then—smiles. That slow, boyish, ridiculously soft smile that should honestly be illegal.

“Okay. Good.”

And with that, he flops sideways with all the grace of a tranquilized swan, landing directly on your shoulder like it’s the most natural ending to a love confession.

You sit there, stiff as a board, heart pounding loud enough to scare birds out of nearby trees, while everyone else continues drunkenly yelling about chicken wings.

Meanwhile, Xavier is peacefully nestled into you, blissfully unaware that you may never recover from this moment.

Ever.

You instinctively reach up and steady him when he starts to slump off your shoulder, your hand cradling the back of his head like it’s muscle memory.

He hums—hums—in approval, nuzzling a little closer like a sleepy cat that just decided yes, this is home now.

Externally, you manage a calm, nurturing expression.

Serene. Unbothered.

The image of someone who’s got it all under control.

Internally?

You are screaming.

Full-volume, running-in-circles, kicking-the-wall kind of screaming.

The kind where a tiny version of you is throwing confetti and another one is passed out face-down on the floor.

Because Xavier—Xavier—just confessed to being in love with you, smiled when you told him not to take it back, and is now peacefully passed out on your shoulder like you’re his favorite pillow.

You glance down at him, at his soft silver hair brushing your jacket, his lips parted slightly in sleep, and that barely-there smile still lingering like he fell asleep mid-dream.

You want to die.

You want to frame this moment.

You want to scream some more.

Instead, you just hold him a little tighter, letting your fingers rest in his hair, and pray to every celestial being that no one at the table is taking photos.

Yeah, they definitely are.

As the barbecue stall starts closing up, your friends slowly stumble out one by one, still giggling, hiccuping, and occasionally bursting into spontaneous song.

Xavier, meanwhile, is still half-asleep and draped over you like a very warm, very handsome weighted blanket.

You gently coax him to his feet, letting him lean on you as you guide him outside.

Your friends snicker as they pass, waving like little gremlins of chaos.

“Good luck!” one sings.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” another adds, immediately tripping over the curb.

“Wait—guys—seriously?!” you call after them, but they just cackle and disappear into the night like the unhelpful heathens they are.

You turn to Xavier, sighing. “Hey, can you still walk?”

He nods—slowly, dramatically—like a prince trying to prove he’s still fit for battle. You start leading him back toward campus, his steps wobbly but determined.

“I don’t know where your dorm is,” you murmur, glancing at him, half-expecting him to pass out again mid-stride.

Instead, he straightens up a little, eyes still sleepy but focused now.

Then he turns to you—completely serious—and says,“I can sleep with you then.”

You. Burn.

Not just blush. Burn. Entire face. Neck. Soul. Torched.

You stop walking, staring at him like he just suggested marriage and tax forms.

“W-What—Xavier—no—what?!”

He simply blinks at you, unbothered, totally calm. “You said you don’t know where my dorm is.”

“That doesn’t mean the solution is my bed!”

He tilts his head. “It’s efficient.”

You are seconds away from combusting. “You are not allowed to be drunk and logical.”

He just smiles sleepily. “Is that a no?”

You throw your hands up. “It’s a blinking red question mark, Xavier!”

And yet… you’re still guiding him toward your dorm.

Because let’s be real—you lost control of this night the second he said your eyes were sparkly.

After several chaotic, borderline slapstick attempts to keep him from collapsing against your doorframe, you finally manage to wrestle your key into the lock and swing the door open.

Xavier immediately leans all his weight into you like a dramatic Victorian faint.

“Thank God my dorm mate isn’t here,” you mutter, half-dragging, half-guiding him inside.

He makes a content little noise before unceremoniously plopping onto your bed—limbs sprawled like a cat who’s claimed a sunbeam.

You let out a breath, briefly debating whether you should be concerned or impressed.

You rummage through your desk drawer for your water bottle, muttering something about hydration and not letting attractive upperclassmen die on your watch.

“Okay, sit up, come on, just for a second,” you say, gently propping him upright with one arm while pressing the bottle into his hands.

To your mild surprise, he drinks obediently, eyes fluttering shut with every sip like water was the most spiritual experience he’s ever had.

You smile a little despite yourself. “There we go. Good job. See? You’re still alive.”

You set the bottle down.

Only to be yanked by the wrist a second later as you let out a surprised, “Whoop—!” And stumble forward—right into him.

He wraps his arm around you like it was part of his plan all along, his face now way, way too close, that ridiculous sleepy smile on his lips.

“I got you,” he mumbles.

You freeze.

Brain, Critical error.

Heart, Left the chat.

Entire body, Flushed like a broken toilet.

You stay frozen, hovering awkwardly over him while his arm stays wrapped around your wrist like it belonged there.

His grip isn’t tight—just secure enough to say don’t go yet.

“You’re warm again,” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded but locked onto yours.

You open your mouth.

To say what, you have no idea—something stupid probably, like “so is the room” or “that’s called body heat, genius.”

But before you can embarrass yourself further, Xavier shifts, just enough so he’s sitting up properly.

And then he looks at you.

Really looks at you.

Not with that sleepy, slurred haze from earlier, but something quieter.

Steadier.

Like there’s still a buzz behind his eyes, sure, but his words… they come out clear.

“I meant it, you know,” he says softly.

You blink. “Meant what?”

His thumb brushes lightly along the inside of your wrist, absent-minded and devastating. “What I said back there. About being in love with you.”

The air in your dorm goes still.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears, and you’re suddenly aware of everything—his closeness, the smell of his cologne, the fact that he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded in this world.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” he continues, voice quiet. “You’re the first person I look for in a room. You make everything feel… lighter. I didn’t mean to say it like that tonight—like a drunk idiot.”

You swallow.

You can’t think.

You can only feel.

And you feel everything.

“But it’s true,” he finishes. “All of it. I love you.”

And there it is.

Real. Sober. Out in the open.

No laughter. No slurring.

Just Xavier, slightly flushed and slightly unsteady—but honest.

Your chest tightens. Your cheeks burn.

You don’t know what to say.

But he’s still watching you, vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

And suddenly, it hits you.

You’re not screaming internally anymore.

You’re melting.

He watches you for a moment longer, as if waiting—maybe for a response, maybe just to make sure you heard him.

But when you don’t bolt out of the room or push him off the bed, something in his expression softens.

Then he smiles.

That small, satisfied, heart-wrecking smile like he just crossed the finish line of something terrifying and wonderful all at once.

Without another word, he tugs gently at your wrist, pulling you into him. You stumble forward—again—and this time, he wraps both arms around you in a warm, grounding hug.

One that’s a little loose, a little sleepy, but completely sincere.

And then?

He flops backward on your bed, dragging you halfway down with him.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles into your shoulder, already halfway to dreaming, his breath slow and even.

Just like that—confession dropped, walls down, chaos behind him—Xavier falls asleep holding you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You lie there, heart pounding, brain fried, limbs refusing to move.

Because you just heard the words I love you.

And now, you’re the pillow of the boy who said them.

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel’s name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

Keep reading

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pineapplepinkpickle

1 month ago

lads LIs when you're hesitant to initiate kisses

sylus understands your hesitancy to make yourself vulnerable, but he also can't stand to see you unfulfilled. the first couple times he catches you staring at his lips, he offers nothing but lazy blinks and slow smirks, challenging you to come to him first. but when you look away in uncertainty one too many times, seemingly content to watch your own desires slip away as long as it saves you from embarrassment, he saunters toward you, maintaining eye contact all the way. placing one hand on your hip and the other on your chin, he bends to capture your lips with his, making you stumble with his intensity. his grip on you only tightens when he breaks the kiss, and before you can ask what he’s doing, he tugs you toward his lips. when you lose your balance and fall into his embrace, you realize his game: he’s making you kiss him first

zayne empathizes with your shyness and hesitancy, afraid to so much as look at you the wrong way in case he offends you. since you’re both too frozen in overthought to make the first move, you don’t become intimate as quickly as most couples, trading physical closeness for emotional understanding. when he walks you to your door after a visit to the bakery, he leaves you with a warm goodnight hug, and you both assume the other is satisfied. only when you think he’s asleep on the sofa one evening and press a fond kiss to his cheek does he realize you share his private desires. the next day, after stoically psyching himself up for 20 minutes, he finds you in the kitchen and kisses you deeply, a pink tinge on his cheeks when he pulls away

caleb wants you to kiss him first—or at least ask him to kiss you—but what if you won’t? he needs to know that you want him—that you’ll willingly give him the privilege of kissing you—so he gives you a few pushes in the right direction. he teases you with heated glances and not-so-accidental touches until you walk up to him, dumb with desire. when you stare up at him helplessly, he settles a large hand on your waist and hovers over your mouth, giving you the chance to push him away. when you don’t, he leans in slowly, tantalizingly, as if wanting to drive home the fact that you’re letting this happen to you—letting him claim your mouth in a slow, consuming kiss. this way, maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the courage to take what you want from him next time—if you let him taste you, there’s no need to be shy anymore, right?

you know rafayel, so you know he would be upset if you expected him to initiate everything—would it kill you to show a little interest in him? that said, you also know that initiating things isn’t really your thing. so, you find a trick that works like a charm: you goad him into kissing you. you’re comfortable enough with kisses to other places—anywhere but the lips—so you adorn his cheeks and neck with soft, chaste kisses until he’s riled up and flushed, his breath coming out in soft pants from the pleasure of feeling wanted. when you pull away, he chases your touch, and all it takes is an innocent giggle from you before he’s pinning you down and stealing your breath away, his tongue tangling with yours in passion and power.

xavier is confused and a bit discouraged when he realizes you never initiate—he thinks you just don’t want to kiss him. one afternoon, you find him sulking in bed, huddled under his comforter with the lights off. worried he’s sick or hurt, you ask what’s wrong, and he gives you 4 pouty non-answers before finally giving in. you can feel your face heat and gut tangle in guilt when he questions if you ever want to kiss him, and with one hand stroking his hair, you confess that you’re simply too shy to kiss him first. he responds with a blink and a whispered “so you do like me, then?”, and when you nod, he tackles you at the speed of light, pressing kisses all over your face before finally claiming your lips

a/n: anon who asked me if i’d ever write for zayne and i hinted at later this week this is not what i was talking about don’t worry, just an impromptu writing exercise to convince myself i’m not washed. also while this technically counts for xavier and raf i’m the least familiar with their cards so idk if/when i can write anything much longer than this for them (love them tho)

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pineapplepinkpickle

1 month ago

LADS men finding out you SH

Part 2 - Zayne

tags: self-harm, neglect, gore, panic attack, hurt/comfort (kinda), angst, fluff and angst

!!By clicking ahead you are consenting to viewing media with disturbing topics!!

Zayne had his suspicions. Since you were younger, he would catch a glimpse of scabbing and blood on your wrists. He knew that you didn't know that he knew.

He was fifteen when he fully registered the cause behind your cuts. From that moment onward he vowed to help you in any way he could. But he couldn't help himself from being distant. A part of him wanted you to heal on your own, like he believed you could. Another part wanted to kiss your scars and hold you tight to his chest.

The years you were apart were more stressful than getting his doctorate. You lived in the back of his mind, constant worries and concerns about your well-being would flood his head once he had a moment of rest.

Becoming your PCP was a blessing in disguise. At first, he was wary. You'd become a Hunter since he'd been away, risking your life to protect Linkon City. He thought having a violent outlet would give you less reason to hurt yourself. How foolish.

Your monthly check-ups were nothing special. Zayne would run tests on your heart and you'd get on with your day. It was the yearly physical that caused you problems.

You walk in the automatic doors of Akso Hospital, smiling to Yvonne as she checks you in. Your knee bounces rapidly as you wait for your name to be called, prompting the elderly man two seats away form you to watch you with concern.

You shoot from your seat as Yvonne calls your name, taking you to the examination room. The routine checks and measurements blur as your anxiety peaks. Then it's just you in the room. You stare at the gown in your lap.

You had gotten carried away the night before, cutting deeper than you wanted. Your skin had split, giving you a view of the veins beneath your epidermis. You had panicked, using a plaster as a makeshift suture and wrapping it tightly. You knew you needed stitches, but you refused to ask for help. You hid the bandages with bracelets and ignored it.

Zayne is perceptive, he notices. You hope he doesn't this time.

Reluctantly standing, you change into the hospital gown. You shiver at the cold hospital air against your back, the scars lining your thighs becoming more visible against the gooseflesh.

Just as you sit back on the exam table, a knock raps at the door.

"It's Dr. Zayne. May I come in?"

"Yeah."

The door opens and Zayne steps through, placing his clipboard on the counter and turning to you. His eyes meet yours and you feel exposed. Behind the cold exterior you find masked concern, a slight tilt in his brows.

"Today's visit is for your yearly physical, correct?"

You nod, playing with your fingers. Zayne pulls the rolling stool over, taking a seat. He senses your anxiety, so he narrates everything he does.

Scooting away a bit, he speaks, "I need to do a skin check. The Hunter's Association is requiring it as of the new year." Zayne meets your gaze, "Are you comfortable with me conducting it? Or would you rather one of my female colleagues?"

Your heart stops. A skin check!? Why would the Association mandate a skin check? Your hands start to tremble, your breath quick and shallow. Zayne immediately catches the signs of a panic attack, and is kneeling beside you before you can even blink. He keeps his hands on his knees, his voice calm as he calls your name.

"Can you hear me?" He asks, his voice is soft and level. You blink rapidly, your vision blurry with tears. Zayne hovers his hand by yours, looking into your unfocused eyes. "May I touch you?"

You shake your head, gasping a breath. He changes his question.

"What do you need?"

You whimper, hugging your shoulders, "I don't know," you whisper. Your voice is hoarse, your lip trembling as more tears wet your face. You repeat yourself, your chest stutters.

Zayne moves closer, but is careful not to touch you. "Can you look at me? I'm not going to hurt you."

Gasping for breath, you struggle to meet his gaze. He smiles softly at you, praising you for looking at him. "Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth. I've got you, you're alright."

Inhaling shakily, you copy his exaggerated breathing. He guides you through each breath. He rests his hand near yours, giving you the option of holding him if you need. Feeling your lungs expand with every inhale gives you something top focus on.

"That's it, you're doing great," he praises, "Good, keep breathing with me."

Zayne's soft smile doesn't leave his face. He keeps his eyes on yours, monitoring you as you gradually calm. You grasp his hand, squeezing it. He reciprocates, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. He glances to the bracelets on your wrist, but keeps quiet.

"There we go, you're alright." Zayne's hand squeezes yours, his soft assurance grounding you. You lean forward, dropping your head onto his shoulder. He tilts his head, gently pressing his cheek to your hair. "I've got you, you're safe."

You stay like that for a while, letting your tears dry. You lean back, taking your hand from his to wipe your face. Zayne stays close, watching you with soft concern. You smile weakly at him, taking a deep breath. He carefully places his hand on your knee, rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

"Are you alright now?" He prompts, brows slightly furrowed.

You shrug, "Not quite, but better."

Zayne nods, rising to his feet. "I want to make sure you're alright before we continue with the examination."

"I'm okay, I just..." You take a deep breath, looking at your lap, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he chides, squeezing your knee softly, "I'm here to make sure you're healthy, not to judge you. For anything."

Blinking, you look up at him. His gaze is knowing, concerned. Your voice is soft when you whisper, "...You know?"

Closing his eyes, Zayne nods, "I've known for a long time now."

Fresh tears well behind your eyes. Your hands are shaky as you rub the tears away. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted you to overcome this on your own..." He starts, looking away, "I believed that becoming a Hunter would give you a different outlet."

"Zayne..." you murmur.

He turns away, retrieving supplies and gloves. "Please, let me see. I stood back for long enough, I'm not letting you do this anymore."

You nod, pulling your lip between your teeth. You take off your bracelets with trembling hands, struggling with the clasp of one. A scarred hand enters your vision, carefully unhooking the clasp and unwinding the bracelet from your wrist. Zayne's eyes drop when he sees the blood seeping through the bandages.

He looks up at you, his fingers pinching the tape securing the bandage. You nod, looking away. Unwinding the bloodied bandages is tedious, carefully working it off. Your blood worked like glue, the fabric adhered to the wound.

Zayne wets a towel with warm water and holds it to the last layer of bandage, moistening the dried blood. Circling the wound with the towel, he eases the bandage from the wound, without pulling off the scab. He carefully wipes the blood away, his eyes widening slightly as he sees the extent of the cut.

"You needed stitches." He states. Your skin has already started healing, leaving a wide gap between the edges of your epidermis. Zayne shakes his head, retrieving the rubbing alcohol and dabbing a soaked cotton ball over it.

You hiss, your shoulders tensing. You grip your arm by your elbow, curling your fist to deter the sting. Zayne sighs sadly, a frown carved on his face. He repeats the process a couple times, ensuring that it's clean before he continues.

The ointment is cold, but not unbearable. Zayne makes quick work of bandaging your wrist, securing the end with medical tape. He removes his gloves, setting them with the soiled bandages and takes your hand in his. He raises your joined hands, bringing them up to his face.

"I know you're addicted, but I can't bear it anymore," Zayne presses a featherlight kiss to the inside of your wrist, just above the cut. "Seeing you hurt yourself is worse than hell itself. I'm begging you, please don't do this to yourself." His lips forge a trail, kissing over the dozens of overlapped scars on your arm.

Hazel eyes shine with tears as they meet your gaze. Shame rears its ugly head in your stomach, making you feel nauseous. Your cheeks wet, your free hand covering your mouth to muffle your sobs. You collapse into his chest, your tears wetting his lab coat.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. Your shoulders tremble with each sob. Zayne wraps his arms around your shoulders, his own tears falling silently into your hair.

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pineapplepinkpickle

1 year ago

➢𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

I decided to hop on this and give it a try :). Basically I’m gonna be writing each day of October a different prompt, I already picked the mcyt that I’m gonna use for each one. Since this is NSFW the only people I’ll be writing for are the dream team, Karl and Punz. I hope you like it<3!

Edit: This is all based on AUs which means the boys are not cc! Unless stated otherwise.

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏: Cockwarming | KARL JACOBS

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐: Cuckolding | DREAM + SAPNAP

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑: Restraint | DREAM

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟒: Gagging/throatfucking | PUNZ

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟓: Humiliation kink | DREAM TEAM

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟔: Impact play | GEORGE

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟕: Somnophilia | GEORGE

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟖: Hand kink | DREAM

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟗: Roleplay | SAPNAP

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎: Gangbang | DREAM TEAM + KARL + PUNZ

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟏: Spectrophilia/incubus | PUNZ

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐: Foursome | DREAM TEAM

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑: Mommy kink | DREAM

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒: Voyerism | GEORGE + DREAM

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟓: Daddy kink | KARL JACOBS

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟔: Pegging | SAPNAP

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟕: Hate sex | DREAM

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖: Breeding kink | DREAM

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟗: Mutual masturbation | GEORGE

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎: Thigh riding | PUNZ

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏: Phone sex | GEORGE

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟐: Sex toys | KARL JACOBS

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟑: Squirting | DREAM TEAM + KARL

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟒: Corruption kink | KARL JACOBS

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟓: Shower sex | KARL JACOBS

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟔: Dry humping | GEORGE

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟕: Sex tape | DREAM

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖: Size kink | PUNZ + SAPNAP

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟗: Knife play | SAPNAP

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟎: Orgy | DREAM TEAM + KARL

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟏: Public sex | DREAM

Tags;

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pineapplepinkpickle

9 months ago

Kenji Sato As A Boyfriend HC

I finally had some time to sit down and write something TuT Hope you'll like it :D If there is any Gramma mistakes I apologize, English is not my first language ToT

Ken would put you first no matter the situation. Sure he loves Baseball and all, but if you got hurt or sick he would totally skip practice or the game to be with you. Even if you insist on him leaving, after all Mina is more than capable of taking care of you.

Before getting together with him you lived in a normal apartment near the city center. But after the news of you dating spread out Kenji swooped in and all but made you live with him in his mansion. His reason being, that he wanted to keep you save from the journalists and Kaiju's but deep down you knew he was waiting for the opportunity to have you for himself 24/7.

If you don't speak Japanese he will teach you. He finds it absolutely adorable whenever you try to pronounce an especially hard word. Your accent makes it so much more endearing for him.

He has multitude of nicknames for you. There is rarely time when he uses your real name when addressing you. Baby girl, Princess and Doll are definitely his favorite ones. If he's feeling especially sappy he'll call you Darling or Beautiful.

He's clingy. Not overly so, but he tends to hover over you or hold your hand whenever the two of you were in public. At first you thought he liked the PDA and you weren't wrong, but the hand holding was purely because he was scared. "I know it's stupid, but I always have this irrational fear of your disappearing like my mom did. And I can't function without you by my side, princess."

Ken is a great cook ! He would totally make you breakfast in bed after his morning training session. Dinner made by him was a rare treat you learned to enjoy, after all he was juggling being a baseball star and a superhero. Not to mention he was an adopted daddy to a very adorable Kaiju living underneath your guys' house.

Speaking of Emi. If you thought she was a daddy's girl you are solely mistaken, because as soon as you enter the room she looses all interest in Ken all together. Of course she still adores him, but you are by far her favorite human ! She chirps and claps her hands in excitement whenever you enter the base. I melts Ken's heart whenever he sees the two of you interacting with one another. He has so many photos of you and Emi saved on his phone !

He loves to see you in his clothes, especially with his jersey on. He still has an old one from the time he played for Dodgers and you use it as a nightie. It's comfortable ! And it does things to him too... God the first time you put it on. Let's just say you couldn't walk for a day or two after ;)

We all know Kenji is rich-rich. So it's no surprise he buys you expensive gifts all the time. You once mentioned that you liked a specific car, and guess what ? The week after that there was a new shiny (dream car) in your favorite color, parked outside the mansion. After that incident you stopped mentioning things you liked or wanted to buy in fear of him going bankrupt. He told Mina to hack your Amazon Wishlist and bought you all of the items just to spite you.

If you work or study he will support you every step of the way. Just like you support him during his games. If you are a university student he will sit down with you and ask you some questions, help you study and keep an eye on you. He wants you to be successful yes, but you still need to sleep and eat !

Kenji likes to mess with you in his Ultraman form, much to his fathers disapproval. Whenever he takes care of Emi he has to transform, and he uses every opportunity to pluck you from the ground and place you on his shoulder. The first time he did it you screamed like a banshee making poor baby Emi jump in fright. Thank God she doesn't really speak human language, you would die of shame if she repeated any of the words you called Kenji that time.

After a year of being together he'll start carrying a small velvet box around. And inside would a ring his father proposed to his mother with, something she gave him long time ago. He would wait patiently, looking for the best way and time to pop the question. But until then he'll enjoy your company and make more memories with you and Emi by his side :)

I hope ya'll liked it ! I feel really good about this one ngl :D GOD I LOVE THIS MAN !

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pineapplepinkpickle

9 months ago

Ken Sato HCs

(This man is too fine omg-)

Summary: Just a list of fluffy and filthy headcanons <3

Super, incredibly bratty like omfg 💀

Won't hesitate to tease you in public (bonus points if paparazzi's there lol)

Loves to see you get flustered, thinks it's the 2nd cutest thing in the world next to Emi ofc

Uses "And what about it?", "What're you gonna do if I don't?" and "Make me." on the regular bc he knows you can't 😭

Absolutely adores when you spend time with Emi and him, makes him get all melty and dad like

Refers to you as Mama both in and out of Emi's presence, knows it makes you flustered and loves it

"Look, Emi! Mama's here!!", "C'mon, Mama, don't be like that~"

Other petnames for you: Baby, Babe, Sweet Thing, Honey

Told you he was Ultraman on like the 3rd/4th date bc he wanted no secrets between the two of you

This man was locked in from the start-

Valentines' day? Bro bought you heaps of designer clothes/jewelry

HAD TO TALK HIM DOWN FROM GIVING YOU ONE OF HIS SPORTS CARS

He loves so deeply but can be very shy about some things like opening up and being vulnerable

Once Emi got used to you, he bought you slippers, toiletries, etc. for his house immediately

Wants you around all the time, thinks everything about you is so cute and perfect and omg-

Loves back hugs, giving and receiving

Gets jealous easily and is very pouty when he is

It's literally the cutest thing omg

Did I mention he loves back hugs? He really loves back hugs-

NECK KISSES NECK KISSES NECK KISSES

His neck is incredibly sensitive so neck kisses are a guaranteed ticket to pound town-

Very handsy, very VERY sneaky

Waist grabbing? Yup. Will he hide his hands after smacking your ass as if it wasn't him when it's literally just the two of you in the room? Also yes.

Isn't a boob man: confirmed

His hands are huge and he knows how to use them-

First time you hook up you think he invented fingering bc damn

Skilled when it comes to making you cum multiple times

KEN SATO IS A PLEASURE DOM AND THAT'S THAT!

Loves it when you whimper and beg, thinks it's so adorable

Coaches you through it, praises praises praises praises praises-

"Shh shh, it's okay, I've got you.", "Just a little bit more- there we go just like that.", "I know it feels good but you gotta stay still for me, Mama.", "Ah ah ah, I know you can give me one more."

Keeps his hedge trimmed iykwim

Is gifted and very cocky about it (no pun intended... ok maybe a little)

He's a good 7-9 in. at minimum, very veiny, above average girth

Finds your spot as soon as he's in and uses it until you can't breathe or think properly

Vocal. Ken Sato is very vocal.

Moans, groans, grunts, sighs, hissing, panting- the list goes on

Adores when you're vocal too, has a thing about hearing how good he's making you feel, likes seeing it in the form of tears

Back scratching enthusiast, makes sure you've got a fresh set specifically so he can see the damage they cause in the morning

Please pull his hair, makes him all weak inside

Prefers longer, deeper strokes bc intimacy but won't hesitate fuck like a madman

Refuses to cum anywhere but inside you, he's a family man what can I say 🤷🏿‍♀️

Overall rating: 10000000000000/10, will definitely hit again bc his libido is absolute insanity

Ken Sato is perfect husband and father material; with that I rest my case.

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pineapplepinkpickle

9 months ago

her strap game is insane i js know

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pineapplepinkpickle

5 months ago

Crying.

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pineapplepinkpickle

7 months ago

My man

Lover's quarell

A teensy weensy bit of smut!

Husband!Nanami who's big hands cup your cheeks, head dips to your level and kisses your lips to shut you up mid arguement. It wouldn't just be a normal "kiss". It'd be the type of kiss where his head moves slowly in sync with his lips kissing yours, with saliva mixed together, his tongue in your mouth. You'd always hear his deap moans and grunts, the way he inhales in your kiss, desperate for air. His big body caving into yours as if your legs didn't just buckle up on his waist to beckon him closer.

And when he pulls away for some air, your saliva and his would connect your bruised lips to his lipstick-stained ones.

Husband!Nanami who lifts you up and puts you on his shoulders when you told him to "take what's yours and leave for the night."

Husband!Nanami who walks closer to you, places his big, warm hands on your shoulders and lowers his face to plant a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes. Your nose. Your lips. It wouldn't just be a simple peck. It's a slow, wet and passionate kiss full of sincerity, love and adoration for you.

Husband!Nanami who would whisper: "let me make it right, love." in your ears while his cock is burried deep inside of you. Gently thrusting in and out while rubbing your back, your sides, your waist. He just wants to relieve your stress, and what better way to do that than to fuck it out of you using his fat cock that you love so dearly.

Husband!Nanami who understands his short coming and mistakes. He acknowledges your feelings and most importantly, he communicates. He sincerely apologizes with his eyes glued to yours, hands embracing your, body faced to yours. He asks you how can do better and, indeed, does better.

Husband!Nanami who tightly embraces you in bed after your arguement. Chest pressed to your back, arms to your tummy, head on the crook of your neck, lips kissing the blade of your shoulder. His body would never leave yours, no matter how hot it is. He's afraid he to lose you, so he hugs you tightly to prevent you from literally leaving.

Husband!Nanami who cooks your breakfast with a heart shaped omelette with words on top that say "I'm sorry ❤️" in ketchup. Alongside your favorite dish and coffee just the way you like it. It's not unusual for him to cook you breakfast or any other meals, it's just that most of the time, you wake up earliet than him to cook for him. So, of course, even if you didn't argue, Nanami would occasionally beat you to waking up early and preparing a breakfast in bed for you.

Husband!Nanami who demands you to hold his hand the whole day after every argument. This is because you're usually stubborn and avoidant. He doesn't want you to be akward and distant. He doesn't need you to talk to him if you don't feel like it. A simple hold from your hands is plenty of reassurance for him and you.

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pineapplepinkpickle

9 months ago

Your Touch

Mizu x Reader

Summary: Mizu is touchstarved. That’s it, that’s the entire thing.

A/n: Next story will hopefully be “Caged Bird” part 3, then I will finally post one of the asks that I took an interest in.

————————————————————

You looked at Mizu, her dark hair pulled up into the high bun it was always in. The loose curl that she always kept out no matter what the occasion, lightly bounced as she walked by, focused on whatever task she had to finish.

You watched and looked on with curiosity, you wondered if she had ever done a different hairstyle on her hair before. You thought a braid might compliment her features, or even half up, you had many ideas and suddenly you were determined to try them.

Well that would require Mizu’s permission first.

“Hey Mizu.” You began, drawing out each syllable of her name to quickly pass on the hint that what you were going to say wasn’t serious.

She paused for a moment, putting down a large box and wiping her brow before looking at you. Her eyebrow rose ever so slightly, her curiosity was piqued despite her not saying a word.

“Have you ever worn your hair differently?” You asked. She simply stared at you for a moment before shrugging,

“A few different times. I just can't really afford to when I’m doing ‘samurai’ things.” She said in air quotes. She never enjoyed calling herself a samurai, for one thing most of the time she purely acted out of the name of revenge not honor. Another, she’s a woman.

Personally, you didn’t really care about the rules of a samurai, you respected them and their ambition but the ones you had met in the past were more focused on their honor over anything else. It had only hit you when you had met Taigen, he was so obsessed with reclaiming his honor like a disowned child that he practically abandoned his engagement. You didn’t understand it, what good is honor if it can be taken away so quickly.

You looked up at Mizu who seemed to be deep in thought. You figured she was just thinking of the different styles she had done before, but her face held a certain sadness as she thought. You began to realize that there was a story attached to the topic of hairstyles that you knew better than to bring up.

“Have you ever braided your hair?” You asked, regaining her attention. She thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. It wasn’t a common style for the time so you weren’t exactly that surprised.

“Would you like to try one?” You asked. You had definitely piqued her interest, her eyes shifted ever so slightly wider as you patted the spot in front of you.

She obliged, sitting down and facing away from you, her legs in a crossed manner with her hands peacefully resting on her knees.

She almost seemed a bit eager to try the hairstyle which honestly excited you a bit, it’s not often Mizu openly gets excited about something, especially with her very subtle expressions.

She sat before you, her slim figure not too far away from you as you gently reached up and grabbed the hair tie that seemed to hold Mizu’s entire hairstyle together. You’d never understand how she did it with so much hair, it never made sense to you. Her sleek dark hair unfolded, a healthy glow could be seen throughout it, she took care of it despite it being up all the time.

With one hand you ever so gently began to rake through her hair, making sure there were no knots that might get in the way of the process. Because of this, you noticed Mizu stiffen for a moment, a shiver could visibly be seen going throughout her body.

Having seen this your hand jerked back, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Before you could say anything she turned her head just enough to look at you from over her shoulder and said in a low tone,

“Keep going.”

You paused for a moment as her words sunk in. The way she spoke to you was no different than any other time and yet for some reason… it felt different. You decided to pay no mind to it as your hand returned to her head, slowly dragging it through and sending shivers throughout Mizu’s body yet again.

Despite this, she sat calmly making no other movements other than the occasional twitch here and there as your hands glided through her hair. Having her hair done was a pleasure she never thought twice about, but the way you so delicately pulled at her hair, twisting it and shaping it as if she was some piece of art, it made her feel cared for in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

You carefully separated her hair, overlapping the pieces in a rhythmic manner, cautiously pulling the groups of hair but never hard enough to hurt. It didn’t take long before you had finished, you tied it all together with the hair tie that she used before, letting go of your work.

“How does it look?” She asked, now turning to fully face you. There was almost some sort of innocence that shone through Mizu's expression, one that seemed to say she genuinely cared how she looked. It was kind of sweet to see her usually stoic and harsh exterior break for a moment, it showed you who Mizu really was even if it was for only a few seconds.

You had seen Mizu with her hair down before, maybe not often, but you had seen it. Something was missing.

You stared at her for a moment, a confused look riddled your face before it hit you, the curl.

You gently reached your hand up towards Mizu’s face, one finger looping around the curl that had been hidden away underneath all of the other pieces of hair. Not expecting this, Mizu froze, letting you do what you needed to do but also not knowing how to react otherwise.

Once you had fixed the curl, you moved back a bit to reassess your work. You smiled, finally happy with how it looked.

“Perfect.” You said, proud of the work you had accomplished. Mizu was happy enough just taking your word for it but she was still curious to see how she looked. She drew her sword partially, only just enough to be able to see at least a little bit of her reflection on it. From what she could see, she truly didn’t mind the look.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, patiently waiting for her answer. You watched as a very small smile graced her features as she said,

“It looks good.”

She put her blade away, turning to look back at you as she brushed a few loose strands out her face.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so… gentle.” She admitted quite plainly. Her hands rested on her lap as she thought back to a time when someone else had done her hair.

“Anytime my mother did my hair, gentle didn’t seem to be a word in her vocabulary.” She joked, a melancholic yet reminiscent look made its way onto her face as she thought back to the many times her mother had scolded her for looking to feminine.

“Being rough will only get you so far.” You responded, not really realizing how that sounded. It earned a small snicker from Mizu but it still went over your head regardless. It had got you thinking, the blue eyed woman constantly trained, having faced the several hardships in life at such a young age that no one would even dream of facing. She had to be tough in every way possible if she had any hope of surviving.

But you were determined to show her, in your own way, that you can let your guard down every once in a while.

“Let me see your hands.” You ordered pretty out of nowhere.

“What?” Mizu responded, clearly taken by surprise by your sudden demand.

“Let me see your hands.” You repeated, putting one of yours out and gesturing for her to place hers on top.

Her eyebrows wrinkled with uncertainty, having not a singular clue what you were planning to do, but she still did what you told her to anyway. Her confused expression remained as she placed her hand on yours, her palm facing towards the sky. With your free hand you gently traced the lines on Mizushand, slowly going over each callous that you could see. Just as you had expected, her hands were coarse and rough, tense from constant overworking and pressure, or maybe they were tense because she wasn’t used to the feeling of someone else, you couldn’t tell.

At first she didn’t know what to do except watch your hands.

“What are you doing?” She asked, confused what the point of this was.

You continued to trace lines and pointless circles around her hand, occasionally gently massaging different points.

“You’re really tense.” You pointed out, “I figured this might help you relax a bit.”

Mizu sat still for a bit as you continued, still not easing up in the slightest. Having her hair done was one thing, she had it done before so she knew at least somewhat how to react, but this was something different. You looked up at her, noticing her unbroken stare before smiling at her.

“Relax.” You calmly instructed her.

She closed her eyes, eventually relaxing into the feeling of your touch just like she had done before. She had truly forgotten what it felt like to be touched in a way that didn’t result in a bruise or broken rib.

You continued your motions, occasionally putting slight pressure on different areas. However in one area you had put just a bit too much pressure, resulting in a noise that sounded like a moan escape from Mizu. You immediately stopped, taking your hand away as you apologized,

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

You looked up at her, ready to continue apologizing but you were met with a serious yet… almost affectionate gaze as she said,

“Don’t stop,” She began, her voice was quiet and relaxed so at least you knew your work was paying off.

“It feels nice.”

There it was, that feeling again. You averted your gaze, not able to handle making eye contact with her while also processing your very wild feelings at that moment. One thing about Mizu was she never truly realized just how attractive she was, she always deemed herself a demon or a monster because that’s what she was taught to believe.

But you saw past that and because of that, things that Mizu didn’t even think twice about doing, would nearly send you into a coma just because it was her doing it.

She had no idea the power she had over you just from a few simple words, and you had no idea the power you had over her just from a simple gentle touch.

You continued on like she had told you, smoothing out the tension in her hand the best you could without any prior training on the subject. Eventually you had switched over to her other hand which was somehow more coarse than the first. You couldn’t help but admire the amount of time and strength that went into forming such things.

As you continued, you could tell Mizu was refraining from making any noises. In all honesty, it was nothing you hadn’t heard before, she’s been in pain enough times around you for you to get used to her whimpering and groaning.

Except this time was different, usually the noises she made were from a place of pain and discomfort.

However, this time, they seemed to come from a place of pleasure.

Caused by you.

“It’s okay.” You began, refusing to look up at her. “The more you let out the more I know I’m doing the right thing.” You encouraged, and sure one could say it was for a selfish reason but really who could blame you.

You could hear her continue to refrain, but over a small amount of time you could hear her a little bit more. Your heart raced as you continued, the act you were partaking in was nowhere near as sensual as it sounded and yet it still felt so intimate. If anything that’s all you wanted it to be, but that was a line you’d dare not cross, at least not yet.

A little more time had passed, you had eased out all the tension you felt in her hands and let go of her. Almost immediately she began to miss your warm and gentle embrace, having returned to her harsh and cold reality. But really, it wasn’t as cold as she had thought because you were still there, right in front of her, looking at her as if she was the only human to have ever existed.

“There now, do you feel better?” You asked quietly, a bit sheepish considering the amount of thoughts that had crossed your mind that you would never say out loud.

Mizu rubbed her hand absentmindedly, her face seemed a bit glazed over like she had been so lost in her thoughts and she wasn’t ready to be a normal person again. Once she had finally, fully, snapped back to reality she nodded.

“Thanks.” Was all she said before you two sat in silence. The tension was practically thick enough to cut through but neither of you wanted to be the one to take that leap, not without knowing for certain it was one they could even take in the first place. Up until now, sure you two had been close, but you had never gotten so close physically. You wanted to, she wanted to, but neither of you wanted to own up to it. She claimed she didn’t need distractions, and you claimed it was a feeling that would flutter away just as quickly as it came.

Well you were both wrong.

You both sat there, not looking at each other, not saying anything before you decided to gain the courage to say,

“Mizu?” You practically whispered. She looked towards you, finally taking her attention off of her hand which she continued to rub, trying to emulate the feeling of your touch but to no avail.

“Yes?” She responded. You very slowly inched a bit closer to her, not trying to make your idea or intention too obvious but she already had a few possibilities in mind on how this might unfold.

None of which she was complaining about.

“Can I… can I touch you again?”

That was all you asked. Sure you had literally just put down her hand but it was the fact that you had even asked that sent the same shivers down Mizu’s spine. She went quiet for a moment, not knowing what to respond with.

She truly had never been asked for permission to do anything before, not in this regard at least, and it shocked her a bit.

It somehow became the most intimate question you could’ve asked.

She nodded, not saying a word as she continued to look at you. It was as if she was trying to memorize your features, as if she was trying to burn them into her retinas so she'd never forget.

Your hand very carefully went towards her, cupping the side of her face as if it would break with too much pressure. She slowly began to lean into your touch, the warm feeling returning quickly as she let her harsh exterior down yet again, feeling uncommonly safe because of your touch. From this position she looked towards you, her hand making its way up to your face, and brushing a few hairs out of the way before asking,

“Can I kiss you?”

Her voice was raspy and low, just above a whisper. She waited patiently for your answer as you both sat in silence before you nodded in response. With that, her hand that had brushed the hairs from your face, slowly made its way to the back of your neck as you both leaned forward and-

“Hey, I found this place that sells food down the road and I- Oh. You’re here.” Taigen had barged into the room, not a singular care in the world as he looked at Mizu with his usual disdain. By this point you had already jumped back from her, being startled by Taigens sudden presence while in such an intimate moment.

With a cold glare Mizu looked towards Taigen,

“What do you want?” She spat. She could get over him annoyingly asking for a duel every now and then but ruining this one moment for her was too far. She finally felt safe and warm in someone else’s embrace and the same man who ruined everything else for her had to come back and fuck something else up.

Before either of them could say any other ‘kind’ words to each other you very quickly made your way to exit the room, not wanting to think about the awkward moment any more than you’d have to.

“I’m going to go… find some things for Ringo. I’ll see you later Mizu, bye Taigen.” You said, very quickly making your way out of the room, leaving both Mizu and Taigen together. Mizu had watched you leave with a certain sadness that you could only really see in her eyes, the rest of her face remained as stoic as ever as she turned back to Taigen.

“New hair style? You look oddly feminine wi-“ The man began, pointing towards her still braided hair.

“Say another word and you’ll lose an arm.” She threatened.

“Noted.”

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