𝖊𝖒𝖎

When Kenma pokes his head into your room, it's almost three o'clock in the morning. He's just finished his Friday night stream, but the quiet he'd expected when slipping his headphones off is not there. Instead, there's a whimpering noise he can hear through the wall, muffled enough that his mic hadn't caught it but loud enough that he's immediately concerned.

He'd knocked twice, quietly murmuring your name, but you'd only let out more whimpers, almost pained. You must be having a nightmare, he reasons, letting himself into your room and trying not to feel guilty.

The blankets have been kicked to the floor, your pajamas riding up in places that he won't let himself notice, because he's worked very hard over the last three years to ignore any hint of anything that isn't roommate-friendly. Not for your sake, because you're not shy at all about boundaries or personal space or anything. Why would you be? You're his best friend.

No… It's entirely for his sake. For his sanity. If he lets himself want to see you in this way — be near you in this way — he won't ever recover.

So he pretends he doesn't see you like this and moves to your side, one hand on your shoulder. You're sweating, your skin sticky and your breath coming out in uneven pants. Your eyebrows are screwed up tight, like you're hurting.

"Hey," he whispers, mumbling your name. He shakes you when you don't stir. "Y/n. C'mon. You gotta get up."

Your body jerks with sudden consciousness, and your eyes fly open. When your gaze finds his, Kenma's spine tightens.

Your pupils are dilated, and your eyes are glazed over with something heated.

"Koz?"

A shiver runs down the length of his body, starting from the crown of his head.

He brushes it off. "Yeah. You were having a nightmare." When you just blink up at him, hazy and lost, he presses his palm against your forehead. "You good?"

Your breath hitches, and you lift your hands to your face, groaning. "Yeah. All good."

He gets the sense that you're lying. "Was it bad?"

"Mhm," you breathe. "Bad."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nope," you laugh, shaking your head and reaching for the blankets with trembling fingers. "Definitely not."

Kenma shakes his head, resolved to never hearing about this mystery nightmare. And then, as you're tugging the blankets over your legs, he watches your thighs clench together tight.

His mouth is suddenly quite dry. "Oh."

You pause, glancing at his face. When you see what he's looking at, you yank the blankets up to your chin. "Koz-"

"Sorry," Kenma laughs, a little delirious. He looks around, standing from your bed with an urgency that he's never felt before. "My bad. I'll go."

"Wait-" Your fingers snag on his wrist. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dream about you-"

"About-" Kenma blinks down at you, his eyes wide. "About who? About-What?"

You stare, your hand covering your mouth. "Oh, god."

He echoes you. "Oh, god." When you sink under your blankets, murmuring 'please go away', he's quick to listen. "Yep. Got it."

"Wait!" you call out, just as he's rushing through the doorway. He stops, staring out into the hallway while you stay silent. "Come back…" Kenma doesn't move, trying to decide if this is real or if you're about to stab him for even knowing about this dream, which was entirely out of your control and which he's totally okay pretending never happened.

But then your voice changes. Thickens with nerves, with something stronger. "Koz… Come back?"

He's at the foot of your bed before he can think of any logical reason not to be, staring down at the blankets and doing his very best not to look into that heated gaze he knows you've got.

Your breath is stuttered, nervous. "Can I ask for something?"

He'd give you anything, even the thing he knows is coming. "Yeah. Yes."

"Will you-" Your voice going quiet, whispered and uncertain. "Will you help me?"

Kenma's eyes flit about the dark of your room. He's coming concerningly close to the end of his rope of self-control. "With?"

"Kenma-"

He shudders visibly, even in the moonlight. You only call him by his name when you're about to say something real. Something heavy.

"Please help me." When he doesn't answer, just shifting his weight and curling his fists into his pockets, you visibly shrink in your bed. "Or-Unless you don't-"

"I want to," he blurts, carding his fingers through his hair and tugging hard. "I definitely want to. I just-" He doesn't finish his sentence, just sitting next to you, within arms' reach. When you tug on his hoodie, he lets you drag him down over you, his sigh heated against your skin. "Are you sure?" he asks. "You just had a dream. It's okay if it's just that. You can't control them."

Your hand trails up his chest and curls around the hair at the base of his neck, playing with it softly. He shivers, a hand brushing across your waist and planting into the mattress at your side, caging you in.

"I don't have dreams about any of my other friends, Koz," you whisper. "But I've lost track of how many have been about you."

His eyes find yours, close and wide and shocked. "Wha-"

"Please, Kenma. I want this."

There's only a moment of silence, and then Kenma is dropping his lips to yours.

Your breath hitches against his mouth, your lips parting, and he's desperate enough to just push his tongue past them right away, all pretense and hesitation leaving his body in a moment of pure weakness. His fingers slide against your waist, dipping under the hem of your shirt and pressing firmly against the warmth of your tummy.

He shuffles nervously over you, following the lead you set. Following the arch of your back with a press of his fingertips against your spine. Following the moan of his name with the moan of yours. Following the spread of your thighs with the slot of his hips between them.

When he rolls his hips, you bury your fingers in his hair and whine, the sound high-pitched and needy. He can feel your heartbeat between your thighs, pulsing against him rapidly and picking up every time he does something new.

His fingers hook under one knee, tugging you around his waist as he starts to roll against you with an unsteady rhythm. His breath is getting heavy, but so is yours. Every push of himself against you is accompanied by the harsh shove his breath past his lips, dizzying and hot and slick with saliva. He feels you start to tug on his hair, little grunts of need getting caught in his throat.

"More," you whisper, your hips clumsy and rough whenever you reciprocate his eager desperation. "More, Koz, please." He presses down harder, his rolls lasting longer and pushing particulary close at the peak. He can feel his pants slipping down his waist, and he knows they're going to be gone soon. Especially with the way your pretty hips keep shimmying up against him, like you're trying to stamp the imprint of his cock against your soaked panties.

"More-Kenma-"

Kenma groans into your mouth, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth. "You sure?"

"Please," you whine, shifting back and forth. "Take them off-"

He doesn't need to hear anything else, his sweats and underwear shoved down to his thighs in an instant. The slot of his cock against your panties is torture, soaking wet torture. The noises coming from between your thighs is obscene. He chases it, curious about what it would sound like without the fabric. If it's just skin on skin, wet and warm and desperate-

"More-"

"Oh, god," he moans, slipping two trembling fingers under the gusset of your panties. "Please tell me you're sure-"

"'m sure, Koz, please, god-"

The fabric tears slightly when he yanks it aside, but neither of you hear it over the moans that echo around you when Kenma slides his cock between your folds.

It's as messy as he'd hoped, loud and lewd and sticky and everything he's ever dreamed of. He hopes it's what you've dreamed of, too.

"Is this what you wanted?" he grunts, hips slapping against your skin as he ruts desperately against you. "Is this what you were dreaming about tonight?"

Your breath stutters, chest rising and falling unevenly. "N-No-"

Kenma's heart nearly stops. But it picks up again when you reach between your legs and find his cock, your fingers making his thighs shake.

“I’m not your fucking dog, Lohen!” You cut him off because you knew whatever he was going to say next would be twice as humiliating as the notion of you actually wearing a collar with the words Property of Lohen.

It was an unassuming black leather collar with silver detailing at the buckle, meant to go with any of your outfits, as Lohen explains the deliberate choice to fashion it that way. Apparently, he paid a pretty penny to have it custom-made. Even more so because he also had your birthstone embedded in it.

You feel yourself growing hot in the face that Lohen would even have the audacity to ask someone to make it for him, knowing the context of such a collar, and the fact that it’s Lohen of all people, the sadistic nutcase of Mondstadt. Whoever it was that was commissioned was forced to endure making Lohen’s sick fantasy come to reality just to put food on the table—this man’s shame knows no bounds, truly. You’re left aghast.

“But you are,” Lohen continues to argue with you, “You’re just all bark no bite, sweetie pie.”

He speaks in that grating voice, higher pitched than usual because he gets off at bringing you to ruin with him, dancing in humiliation because he loves it more to see you squirm and genuinely lose your cool. Sick fuck, you think. What a depraved, sick fuck.

“Leave me alone,” you swat your hand at his face, pushing him away from you the moment he starts to inch slightly closer.

“C’mere,” he goes to grab your hand with a tight grip, pulls you towards his chest, and wraps his arms around you. So suffocating.

“Let go of me—Lohen—control yourself!”

“Can’t, not when I’m with you—“ Lohen presses a quick kiss to your face as he continues to rough you around; squeezing your shoulders into yourself with his own arms, so you wouldn’t be able to extend your arms out to try and push him back. You’ve begun thrashing around in hopes of flinging him off you, his chest glued to your back as he continued to tighten himself around you like barbed wire. But Lohen’s stronger, has both feet planted firmly on the ground as he merely pushes his entire body into you, more and more, until you seriously feel like he’s crushing you.

“Go on, keep pushing, see what happens,” he’s giggling in your ears. It makes you want to push harder, but it’s no use. You’ve given out, knees grown worn, you fall to the ground as he lies flat on top of you, still unwilling to let go of you.

“Lo—Lohen, enough. Get off of me,” you beg. You try your best to sound as sincere as possible.

“Nah, nah. I won't. Why would I? I get to hold you like this?”

“Lohen—”

Before you could even blink, he brought up the collar again; you heard the metal crinkle as he unfastened the lock. Then he swiftly secured it around your neck; you felt it graze the back of your neck, coldness kissing your spine, making you shiver. Lohen felt it, made him dig himself a little more into your behind in the action.

“You know, the more you deny me, the more turned on I get,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

And just as he was about to shut the collar on you, you were quick to start shaking him off again. Using your arms to try and elbow him in the sides, but he merely places both his knees to each side, straddling you, and one hand pressed against the flat of your back, pushing you face down onto the ground.

“Ah, ah, not yet. I didn’t get to lock it yet—”

“Fuck off!”

You use every last bit of energy you could muster and manage to wiggle out of his grasp, kicking him with your legs in the process. He stumbles off of you, falls on his back, as you pick up your bearings and go to stand up. But Lohen immediately locks in on you, gets up faster than you could comprehend, and wraps a hand around your ankle, drags you back down on the ground with him. You hit the floor with a loud thud; you wince in the pain blossoming through your body.

Lohen quickly goes back to straddle you, picks himself up, and plops himself on top of you, as you were far more distracted that you had fallen so hard, that you were so sure you had a bruise somewhere on your back.

“Did it hurt?” Lohen asks, his eyes peering at you with such a wide, intense look; you see your face reflected in them. You don’t even know what to say to him, other than the fact that you already know; he’s probably ready to continue making it hurt even more if provoked enough.

You keep your mouth shut, words stolen out of your lips as your breathing grows rapidly. But it makes Lohen boil over as he’s met with your silence; then he finds himself snapping his hand towards your face, fingers tightly coiling around your jaw, pushing your face closer to his, “Use your words, darling. Tell me if it hurts.”

“Ye—yes,” you struggle to properly speak as his fingers positioned themselves in a tight hold on the hinges of your jaw. It was uncomfortable to talk, but no doubt, Lohen would prefer you this way.

“Lohen, it—it h-hurts.”

He doesn’t speak, but he lets go of your face, leaving you frozen in shock. And as you lay limply beneath him, he fishes out a key from his pocket and goes to lock your collar shut. It feels like something heavy just fell on top of you, something overconsuming.

“I told the guy to add a lock. What’s the point of a collar if it’ll just fall off? I want to make sure it sticks.”

As the lock clicks shut, he smirks, pats your head, and compliments you on how cute you look. Then he flings the tiny key into the distance, somewhere, lost to the wider world, and you feel your heart leap out of your chest.

“Why’d you throw it away?! I won’t be able to get this off!” You reach for your collar, fingers attempting to pry it off. Your fingers knock against the metal lock, but it stays glued to you, not budging.

“Because I don’t want you taking it off, duh. That wasn’t in my plans.”

“Well, having this around me forever isn’t in mine either!”

“Sorry, I don’t really care what you say in this matter.” He waves you off, shaking his head in retort. You keep trying to haul the collar off you, growing increasingly angry as it becomes permanent. The words, Property of Lohen, searing into your brain like scalding, hot flames, slowly turning you to ash.

“Lohen, please, you can’t do this—”

He ignores your pleas, waving it off as if trivial. Lohen picks himself off you, but he drags you up by the collar, so your breathing tightens, and you feel pressure in your eyes as you feel yourself lift off the ground slightly, head jutted out above your shoulders at an unnatural angle.

Your hands grasp at his wrists to try and make it stop, but it doesn’t really stop until he makes you fall in his arms. You’re coughing up a storm, while he gently pats your back.

“Wow, that was seriously cute how your face went from angry and serious to being all scared. As I said, all bark, no bite.” Lohen caresses your face. “Did you think I was trying to choke you there? Huh? Honey, I would never—at least, not fully, hehehe.”

You continue to cough, your hand attaching itself around your throat as your eyes accumulate tears.

“Get up, let’s go take a walk outside. I want everyone to see this new collar on you.”

You don’t get to say no because you never had a choice to begin with.

the collar of his white top was unbuttoned enough to expose some of his chest, and he had on a black vest which accentuated his oh so delicious waist which you wanted to grab right there and then without a care in the world. your eyes trailed back up to his neck, and his sexy ass collarbone you wanted to leave marks on was practically displayed for the entirety of teyvat to see, egging you on and—

"shamelessly ogling now, aren't you?" he asked knowingly, feeling your eyes staring straight at his practically bare chest. you quickly looked away with an awkward smile while you coughed into your hand. "c-captain! you requested—" interrupted mid speech, you were suddenly dragged into his office by the wrist as you heard his door slam and click shut behind you. oh fuck. "hey, wait—" you let out a whine as he grabbed you by the hair to shove your face towards his chest.

"go on, you slut. i know you wanna lick it, suck it, or whatever. i'm even being kind enough to give you the opportunity," he said with a mocking grin, tightening his grip on your hair. "mmh- lohen-" fuck, he smelled heavenly. it was enough to almost make you salivate—he had to have done this on purpose right? it's not like there was really anything special going on today, but of course he did this to rile you up.

glancing up at him through your lashes, you reluctantly stuck your tongue out, giving small kitten licks to the exposed skin on his chest. "oh come on, i know you can do better than that."

"shut the hell up," you huffed, rolling your eyes as you reached a hand out, dragging it up his waist and snaking it into his shirt to squeeze his chest, eliciting a groan from him which drove you absolutely insane. "haah- fuck, that's it, bunny—keep- nngh- going," oh, he was really doing this on purpose now.

you bit down hard, nearly drawing blood as he whimpered, breathing shakily and rutting his hardened cock against you. you tugged lightly at his nipple, moving your mouth up to leave quite a few hickeys along his neck and collarbone.

you winced as lohen yanked your head back, staring up at the complete mess you left him in. he was breathing heavily, face flushed with a furrowed brow, and a small line of drool coming from his mouth. fuck, he looked so hot.

"hey, don't think you're even close to done yet. on your knees, now."

because unlike makki, iwaizumi doesn’t immediately start laughing.

there’s just... a pause.

then hajime’s voice, low and normal and totally unaware of the crime scene he has stepped into. “you busy?”

issei looks directly at you.

you shake your head at him in horror and delight.

he licks his lips.

“little bit.”

“then why’d you answer?”

“’cause you called. i’m polite, iwa.”

“you sound weird.”

issei hums, and his thumb slides back over you, slow enough to make your legs tense.

you bite down on your knuckle.

“do i?”

another pause.

oh, hajime knows now.

you can hear the exact second he knows. the silence changes shape. gets heavier. more aware.

“... matsukawa.”

“yeah?”

“are you fucking around right now?”

issei’s smile is lazy and lethal.

“technically, my mouth’s occupied.”

you make the worst sound into your hand.

hajime goes dead silent.

not scandalised loud like oikawa. not delighted loud like makki.

silent.

issei’s brows lift like he’s fascinated.

then, with the calm of a man setting down a drink, he taps speaker and lays the phone flat on your stomach.

the cool edge of it makes you twitch.

you choke on a laugh, which turns into a gasp when he slides two fingers back into you, slow and deliberate.

“oh my god,” you breathe.

the phone is right there. resting on your stomach, speaker up, close enough that every little broken sound you make has nowhere to hide.

issei looks too pleased with himself.

“iwa,” he says casually, as if he is not knuckle-deep and watching your hips start to lift. “you still there?”

no answer.

issei’s fingers curl.

your back arches.

“hajime,” issei sings, awful and soft. “don’t be rude.”

“i’m here,” iwaizumi says, voice tight.

there it is.

not hanging up. not telling him to stop. not even pretending hard enough to hate this.

issei’s grin goes slow.

“yeah?” he murmurs. “you wanna be?”

the silence after that is fucking insane.

you stare at issei, wide-eyed, breath catching in little pieces as he keeps touching you. he’s not even going down on you anymore. he’s just watching. sitting between your legs with his cheek against your thigh, fingers moving steadily, gaze flicking between your face and the phone on your stomach like this is some kind of casual group activity.

“i asked you something,” issei says.

hajime exhales through his nose.

“... if she’s okay with it.”

your whole body tenses.

issei’s fingers pause.

not stop, exactly. just slow.

his eyes come to yours, humour gone thin for half a second. the real question underneath it.

you nod.

he waits.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i’m okay with it.”

issei’s smile comes back, softer first.

then worse.

“you hear that?”

“i heard,” hajime says.

his voice sounds different now. lower. rougher around the edges.

god help you.

issei kisses the inside of your knee. “good. then stay quiet if you’re gonna be shy about it.”

“fuck off,” hajime says, but it has no bite.

“mm. that isn’t very nice, hajime.”

you laugh, breathless, and issei rewards it by dragging his fingers just right.

your laugh snaps into a moan.

hajime makes a sound.

tiny. barely there.

but it is a sound.

issei hears it.

of course he does.

“oh?” he says.

“don’t.”

“didn’t say anything.”

“you were about to.”

“i was just thinking.”

“do that privately.”

issei’s fingers slow, and you whine before you can stop yourself.

he looks down at you with mock pity.

“see what you did? distracted me.”

“issei,” you complain.

“yeah, baby?”

he says it so casually. so warm. like he isn’t turning you into a trembling mess with his best friend listening.

“don’t stop.”

iwaizumi’s breath catches audibly.

issei’s eyes darken.

“bossy.”

“you’re being annoying.”

“i’m being generous.” his gaze flicks to the phone. “aren’t i, iwa?”

hajime says nothing.

issei laughs quietly.

“still there?”

“yeah.”

“quiet.”

“yeah.”

“you jerking off, boy scout?”

the silence is immediate and catastrophic.

your eyes go huge.

“issei.”

“what?” he asks, innocent as a knife. “it’s a question.”

hajime’s voice comes back strangled. “you’re a fucking asshole.”

“that wasn’t a no.”

“jesus christ.”

“that wasn’t either.”

you are going to die.

you are actually going to die in this bed because matsukawa issei cannot behave for five consecutive minutes and iwaizumi hajime apparently has a closet pervert streak big enough to qualify as a second apartment.

issei leans down and kisses you, right above where his fingers are still moving.

soft. terrible.

then he speaks, not to you this time.

“she’s so wet,” he says, conversationally. “you should feel this.”

your face burns so hot you think you might pass out.

hajime swears under his breath.

issei watches your reaction like he loves it.

“she likes when i talk about her,” he continues, still lazy, still cruelly calm. “acts embarrassed, but she gets tighter every time.”

you shake your head.

his fingers curl again.

your hips jerk.

“liar,” he murmurs to you.

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i might.”

“you’d miss me.”

“i’d miss your dick.”

“same thing.”

hajime makes another sound then, partly a laugh, half a curse. like he can’t believe he is hearing this. like he cannot believe he is not hanging up.

issei’s smile sharpens.

“there you go,” he says. “knew you were alive.”

“shut up.”

“nah. iwa, she’s trying so hard not to make noise.”

“don’t drag me into it.”

“you’re on speaker on her stomach. you dragged yourself in.”

“that was you.”

“you could hang up.”

nothing.

issei hums.

“thought so.”

then he lowers his mouth back to you.

and if the fingering was bad, this is worse.

because now he is showing off.

not in a clumsy way. not obvious and exaggerated. issei is too smooth for that, too confident in the exact way that makes him irritating. he just settles back between your thighs and eats you out like he knows hajime is listening to every wet sound, every shaky breath, every broken little syllable of his name you fail to swallow.

your hand flies into his hair.

the phone shifts on your stomach as you arch.

“careful,” issei murmurs against you, and the vibration makes your legs tremble. “don’t drop him.”

“i’m going to kill you,” you gasp.

“after?”

“maybe.”

he laughs into you.

hajime says nothing.

but he is breathing.

that’s the thing that gets you. the quiet on the other end isn’t empty anymore. it’s full of him. tense and controlled and too present. you can imagine him sitting somewhere with his jaw clenched, phone in one hand, the other maybe—

you whimper.

issei’s eyes flick up.

“oh, what was that?”

“shut up.”

“you thinking about him?”

you try to close your thighs, which is a mistake because his shoulders are there and he just spreads you open again.

“don’t hide now.”

“issei.”

“answer.”

your pulse is in your throat. “maybe.”

hajime curses.

issei grins against you.

“cute.”

then he stops talking and gets serious.

which is how you know you’re fucked.

he knows exactly how to pull you apart when he wants to. knows when to tease and when to shut up, when to give you pressure, when to back off just enough that your body chases him. his hands lock around your thighs, his mouth gets precise, and everything narrows down to heat and breath and the weight of the phone rising and falling with your stomach.

you come with hajime listening.

it’s not graceful.

it never is with issei when he’s showing off.

your back arches, one hand in his hair, the other clutching at the sheets, and the sound that leaves you is loud enough that you hear hajime inhale sharply through the speaker. issei doesn’t let up until you’re squirming, thighs trembling against his cheeks, voice breaking around a too-much little sob.

then he lifts his head.

slowly.

mouth wet.

eyes dark.

“good?” he asks.

you nod weakly.

“words.”

“i’m good.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he pats your thigh once.

“great.”

then he grabs your hips and yanks you down the bed.

you squeal.

actually squeal.

because you’re overstimulated and boneless and he moves you like you weigh nothing, dragging you to the edge so suddenly that the phone nearly slides off your stomach. you catch it with one clumsy hand, laughing breathlessly even while your whole body is still shaking.

on speaker, hajime makes the craziest fucking sound.

not a full moan.

not a word.

just this punched-out, involuntary thing that tells on him so badly the room goes still for half a second.

issei freezes.

then looks at the phone.

then at you.

his smile becomes a war crime.

“iwa.”

“don’t.”

“that was cute.”

“don’t.”

“you liked that?”

“fuck you.”

“i’ll pencil you in.”

you laugh again, helpless, and hajime sounds like he might be suffering psychic damage.

issei stands at the end of the bed.

and yeah.

yeah, you forget how to speak for a second.

because he is tall. tall in that loose, lanky way that hides the sheer size of him until he is standing over you with your hips in his hands and his hair falling into his eyes. he drags you to the very edge, lifts your ass like it’s nothing, adjusts you until your legs are hooked just right.

the angle alone makes your stomach flip.

then he lays his cock over your lower stomach.

just rests there.

heavy and hard and obscene against your skin.

you stare down.

he does too.

“issei,” you breathe.

“i know.”

he loves this.

loves seeing it. loves the visual of how deep he’ll reach, how far up your body he can mark the promise of it before he even gets inside. it makes him smug in the worst way, quiet and satisfied and absolutely aware of what it does to you.

his thumb strokes your hip.

“look at that,” he murmurs.

hajime is dead silent.

issei tilts his head toward the phone.

“wish you were looking, iwa?”

“don’t be mean,” you manage.

“shame. i’m so good at it.”

hajime’s voice is rough when he says, “you’re evil.”

“little bit.”

“more than a little.”

“you’re still here.”

another pause.

then hajime says, very low, “yeah.”

oh.

oh, that gets everyone.

even issei’s expression flickers for a second, amusement giving way to something hotter. he looks down at you, brows raised like, you hearing this?

you nod, dazed.

“yeah,” issei says softly. “he is.”

then he slides into you.

you lose your breath.

fully.

it’s so deep at that angle that your hands fly to his wrists, nails digging in as he holds you up to meet him. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. just a stunned little gasp that cracks at the edges when he bottoms out.

issei’s jaw tightens.

“fuck.”

hajime mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch.

issei catches it.

“what was that?”

“nothing.”

“liar.”

“keep going.”

the words are clipped. controlled. almost angry.

they make you clench so hard issei groans.

“oh, she liked that.”

“stop narrating everything,” hajime says.

“no.”

then he starts moving.

slow at first, because the angle is insane and because you are still sensitive from his mouth. deep, measured thrusts that push the air out of you every time, his hands firm under your ass, lifting you to meet him like he’s using your body exactly how he wants and making sure it ruins you properly.

the phone is still on you, slid down now to stick to the sweaty skin just below your tits.

you can feel the vibration of hajime’s breathing through the case.

it is obscene.

it is ridiculous.

it is so hot you almost can’t stand it.

issei talks through everything.

of course he does.

he tells you how good you feel, how tight, how pretty you look trying to take him like this. tells hajime how your face changes when he gets deep enough. how your thighs shake. how you get louder when you forget to be embarrassed.

and hajime just listens.

quiet.

too quiet.

until issei pushes.

“say something, iwa.”

“no.”

“why not?”

“because you’re already insufferable.”

“she wants to hear you.”

your eyes fly to his.

issei grins.

“you do.”

“i—”

he thrusts deep, and your words scatter.

“see?”

hajime’s voice is rough. “she okay?”

the question punches right through all the heat.

because it’s hajime, of course it is. repressed pervert or not, he still sounds like himself. grounded. careful. checking, even with his voice strained.

you swallow, breathless.

“yeah. i’m okay.”

“you sure?”

“yeah.”

issei’s expression softens for the smallest second.

then he ruins it by saying, “hear that? she’s okay. you can keep jerking off now, boy scout.”

“mattsun,” hajime snaps.

you make a sound that is half laugh, half moan.

issei’s grin comes back full force.

“there we go.”

“you’re going to hell.”

“probably. wanna come with?”

“not answering that.”

you are absolutely dissolving.

every thrust punches up into that deep, impossible place that makes your legs go useless. issei’s hands hold you steady, thumbs digging into the soft of your hips. your head tips back against the mattress, one hand fisted in the sheet, the other pressed weakly over the phone like you can somehow hide the sounds and keep hajime close at the same time.

issei notices.

“don’t cover him.”

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

“you’re annoying.”

“you love it.”

“you’re too deep.”

his hips slow immediately.

“too deep bad?”

you shake your head fast.

“no. good. just— fuck!”

“more words.”

“good,” you gasp. “it’s good.”

“yeah?” his voice goes warm and filthy. “you want more?”

you nod.

“say it.”

“more.”

hajime exhales sharply.

issei’s eyes glitter.

“oh, he liked that one.”

“i hate both of you,” you breathe.

“liar.”

then he gives you more.

not faster. deeper. meaner in that careful way that has your body going loose and desperate beneath him. the whole bed shifts with it, rhythm steady, your ass lifted in his hands, his cock hitting so deep that your vision goes blurry.

and then he says it.because he knows exactly when to.

“wanna come for iwa?”

you whine.

“yeah?” he asks, voice low. “wanna come while he jerks off to the sound of you getting fucked like this?”

hajime makes a strangled noise.

“issei.”

“what?”

“you’re— fuck.”

issei laughs, breathless and dark. you nod before you can think better of it.

issei’s gaze snaps back to you.

“please,” you whisper.

his hands tighten.

“please what?”

“make me come.”

“who for?”

you are gone. truly gone. no dignity. no shame. just heat and pressure and hajime’s breathing through the speaker.

“for haji.”

the silence after that is violent.

then hajime groans. low. wrecked. utterly ruined.

issei’s composure almost cracks.

almost.

“fuck,” he mutters. “good girl.”

he shifts one hand, keeping you lifted with the other, and gets his thumb on your clit.

that’s it. that’s the end of you.

the angle, the pressure, the phone, hajime’s barely contained sounds, issei’s voice talking you through it like he has all the time in the world. it all collapses at once.

you come hard enough that your voice breaks. hard enough that your whole body shakes in his hands, hips jerking uselessly as he keeps you exactly where he wants you. issei talks you through the entire thing, filthy and soft, telling you there you go, that’s it, let him hear you, while hajime swears on the other end like he’s trying not to fall apart too loudly.

issei follows not long after.

he holds you tight, thrusts going uneven, head tipping back with a groan that would be embarrassing if he were capable of shame. he comes deep, still standing at the edge of the bed, hands locked around you like he’s anchoring himself through it.

for a few seconds, no one says anything.

you are wrecked.

hajime is silent.

issei is breathing hard, staring down at where he’s still inside you with a lazy, satisfied look that makes you want to kick him if your legs worked.

then hajime says, flat and disbelieving, “are you fucking serious?”

issei doesn’t miss a beat. “nah. her name isn’t serious.”

hajime hangs up. immediately. the room goes dead quiet.

then you burst into exhausted laughter.

issei looks down at the phone, then at you, completely calm.

“rude.”

“you are the worst person alive.”

“he asked.”

“you are insane.”

“yeah.” he finally eases you back onto the bed with surprising gentleness, one hand sliding under your thigh so you don’t jolt too hard. “you good?”

you blink up at him, sweaty and ruined and still trying to recover from the fact that iwaizumi hajime just got dragged into this ecosystem and absolutely did not leave.

“yeah,” you mumble. “i’m good.”

“yeah?”

“mhm.”

“nice.”

he pulls out carefully, and you make a tiny miserable sound because everything is too much now. he kisses your knee like he’s apologising, which is offensive because he is not sorry.

then he grabs his phone.

you squint at him. “what are you doing?”

“checking if he blocked me.”

“did he?”

a pause. “no.”

“coward.”

“right?”

the phone buzzes once in his hand.

issei reads it and smiles.

“what?”

“iwa says he hates me.”

“you deserve it.”

“he also says to never call him again.”

“you answered his call.”

“i’ll remind him later.”

“don’t.”

“i won’t.”

“you absolutely will.”

“probably.”

you groan and cover your face.

issei tosses the phone aside and pats your thigh.

“okay. shower.”

“don’t boss me around after ruining my life.”

“you’re gross.”

your eyes snap open. “it’s your fault.”

“yeah.” he shrugs, shameless. “still gross.”

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i hate your friends.”

“no, you don’t.”

you stare at him and he grins.

“especially not haji.”

you grab a pillow and throw it at him. he catches it against his chest, laughing, then leans down to kiss your forehead like he has any right to be sweet after all of that.

“come on,” he says. “shower before makki finds out and the group chat becomes unlivable ’cause we left him out.”

Lohen:

HECK YEAH

Let's be fr rn. This masochistic psychicopath twink is into being put in his place.

He desperately wants to be stepped on.

Metaphorically and physically.

Be rough. Be mean. Be merciless. Give him colorful bruises. He adores it when you are unforgiving.

Would look at you with literally hearts in those dead dead eyes of his if you cause painful injuries<33

They don't have to be necessarily dangerous. Just something that gets his blood hot and running<3 (But then again, as long as he got a good fight out of it, he won't mind bleeding to his death by your hands<3 or taking his last breath in your arms knowing that you were the one to steal it from him—).

Sorry this is so unromantic and way too freaky BUT THIS MAN CANNOT BE NORMAL ABOUT IT.

You cannot convince me that he doesn't get off to getting beaten to a pulp by his partner.

This twink is getting destroyed, alright.

Literally.

Durin:

YES

Just look me in the eye and tell me he is not a switch.

You can't. Because he is one.

He gets SO subby whenever he bottoms for whatever reason though... always becoming such a drooling sobbing mess... eager to please like the obedient little thing he is.

It's just that you make him feel so so good he just can't help himself but be messy with it :(

He is usually more of the growly type, but take advantage of his sensitive parts and you'll get him to make the sweetest whines for you<33

Just make sure that he feels loved and cared for, and you'll be rewarded with unshakable his eternal devotion<3

Sorry he is just so cutehzgvjhdshjdg my sweet baby I want all the good things for him<3

Layla:

PLSPLSPLS

Do you really think she even has the energy to top?

No. The right answer is no.

I think she's generally very quiet, but she makes up for it by how easily flustered she is<3

Can barely handle much in her natural habitat (bottoming), so please don't try to make her top :(

She is so overwhelmed and too flustered by everything that is happening.

Will still do her best despite everything, because she is just that sweet<3

Until she realizes that she may have bitten more than she can chew.

Starts begging you to please please please switch over she really can't do this.

She is just so mhmdhlklf<3 I think she deserves a reward for being so good to you<33

I love her sm omg is this too obvious.

Albedo:

Yes.

Agrees way too fast when you ask, actually.

Not necessarily because he is a bottom but I think he loves expirementing— Also kinda saw it coming. It just so happens that you asked earlier than he anticipated you would.

I like to believe that the star mark on his neck is sensitive, so show it some love, would you<3

Not gonna lie, I think he'll be so into it.

Like he'll realize how much more reactive he is when you are topping and start asking you to top more often (For science!)

Prolly asks you to write your observations down for him to check on later (💀)

Come on he obviously can't do it himself with the state you leave him in (HECK YEAH DESTROY THAT TWINK—)

Anyways it is time to bring out the smut writer in you.

Sorry if this is ooc he's such a pretty princess in my head I want to bbg him so bad (😖)

— but I also wanna ruin him and that smart mouth of his untill he can't spew any scientific nonsense at me anymore<3

Kazuha:

No.

Just hear me out on this one.

The service dom in him cannot, in any way, let the love of his life do all the work when he is right there.

Unlike a lot of people in this list, however, he is just human, so you can always fight him for that position...

Gets caught so off guard when you manage to flip him down and start toying with him.

(Thinks it's kinda hot—)

Find that sensitive spot and suddenly, his words are not as flowery nor as eloquent anymore<3

Just make sure it stays that way for as long as possible, would you<3

Especially since he will always be on guard from now on, you'll have to be more clever with your tactics if you want him writhing under you<3

Wanderer:

Yes (HEAR ME OUT I HAVE CONVINCING ARGUMENTS TRUST)

Here's the thing. Sex for Wanderer is unnecessary; he doesn't need it and doesn't crave it. However, he will help his partner out if they want it.

I think it is a very intimate affair to him. As far as he understands it; it is a process of stripping himself bare of everything he ever used to hide in and serving what remains of his wretched soul to you on a silver platter for you to judge and see.

And he can't just do that with anyone now, can he?

It's kind of an all-in deal to him. If you are going to do this, then he won't do it unless he feels safe enough around you to trust you with EVERYTHING.

Would genuinely cry if you treat his body with care, ignoring all his encouragement to go all out and his "I can handle it" talk in favor of treating him like the precious thing he thinks he's not.

He is shaking the entire time, feeling so vulnerable and so so loved.

I love him so much sorry if the special boy treatment is showing.

Scaramouche:

Absolutely NOT.

He can take care of you just fine— in fact, I think he is so much more gentler with his beloved than one would assume him to be.

He's just... not ready to be as vulnerable yet. He wants to, he really does, but the thought of actually doing that makes his synthetic skin crawl.

He's also seen firsthand how fragile humans can be, and he's way too paranoid to let you do any physically exerting tasks on his watch. Especially if you were a non-combatant.

I think your only chance at catching him at his most vulnerable would be after an agonizingly long expedition in the Abyss. Where time flows much faster and days turn into weeks and weeks into months.

He's ways extremely clingy (more than he already is, anyways) after such ventures and weirdly pliant to all sorts of requests that he would've otherwise instantly dismissed.

Fights it at first. Then, let's it happen. You just need to use the right words (and actions)

And suddenly he just looks so soft and so gentle and so so unlike himself ughh.

You could almost see the Kabukimono in him, if not for the fact that he keeps hiding his face

Probably cries. Definitely cries. Soft Scara the things I'll do for you—

God he makes me sick (/affec)

Do not even DARE mentioning it to him later, though. Whatever happens in those moments STAYS in those moments.

Please for his sake just... Don't.

(He's growing on me and I HATE IT)

Kabukimono:

YES

VERY eager to please. Can take whatever position you want him to!

Just... make sure to show how him how first.

Extremely vocal; moaning, begging, gasping. Will cling to you desperately while doing it all.

Doesn't know how much it affects you, but archon knows it does and it affects you bad.

No wonder he always ends up being such a pretty mess after<3

Definitely insists on returning the favor at some point. He is such a sweetheart<3

A fast learner, would use all the techniques you used on him before and carefully watch how much you are affected by them.

Takes your noises as approval. Whenever he is being loud it means he likes it. Surely it is the same for you, right<3

Despite that, he is still a bit unsure sometimes

He is being such a sweet thing to you. Please assure him that he is doing good :(

Just the fact that he can see you getting physically affected by him is enough, really! But a bit of praise can go a long way with him<3

Just think of it as motivation! The same way his vocal nature encourages you to ruin him<3

Chiori:

No.

That's her position the fuck (🤨) She ain't bottoming to nobody.

Also she knows damn well you ain't lasting (💀)

I think she is very gentle, but ask for a chance to be the top and she'll give you the bIGGEST side eye.

If you try to undermine her during the act she can and WILL immediately destroy any attempt at that.

She is so sassy, brat taming is in her nature.

Puts lingerie on you and uses the fabric shears to pin you to the bed so you can't escape her.

Is very patient when it comes to her partner, and has no qualms about teasing you all day<3

Won't let you get that relief until you are begging and sobbing pretty for her<33

Can always be a tad bit kinder to you, though. Just be good and listen to her well next time. You can do that, right<3

Heizou:

Yes. But omg he will he give you hELL.

Lays on his back, his arms behind his head as a pillow and the most arrogant looking uwu face you can imagine.

Smug fuck (I will peg that twink)

Wind is strong. ANYWAYS.

Loud on purpose at first. Then ACTUALLY loud when you start learning more about his dos and don'ts.

If you are the type to give commands then be assured that he will not be following any<3

Even when completely ruined he still finds the energy to be such a brat.

Nothing that cannot be fixed by being a bit rougher though<3

Put him on a leash. Maybe add a pretty rope too. And see how fast his confident facade drops when he is so desperate for that sweet release :(

He is such a whore (/affec) I love him

Illuga:

No.

Another twink who refuses to let his partner do any of the heavy lifting.

This one, however, is much more easier to fluster than the other.

A hot breath behind his reddening ear, a teasing finger under his sleeveless turtleneck, and the once dependable captain is no longer capable of the most basic functions anymore<3

Bonus points if you put a possesive hand on that small waist of his as you guide him somewhere more... private.

It's for a super secret important thing, you swear! (He knows damn well that you are lying)

It's almost pathetic, really. The way he is so determined to pretend have any sort of control yet gives in the moment you take the lead.

Feels so guilty that he is "making" you pleasure him. But he also can't get himself to tell you to stop because you are just so good at what you do he loses all words<3

Becomes so clingy and emotional during times like these. Please give him the praise he deserves :(

Freminet:

I think we all already know the answer to this one (💀)

He is the bottomest bottom to ever bottom.

This is like one of three things the genshin fandom universally agrees on.

That twink is already getting destroyed.

I genuinely think he'll cry if you try to make him top you.

Combust on the spot, even.

He'll still try, of course, but the poor thing's hands would be shaking so hard he can barely unbutton your shirt or unbuckle your bottoms.

Stutters out multiple sorrys for each time his fingers slip as he fumbles with your clothes.

He's just so hard but he's also too freaking flustered to do anything about it (my shayla :( )

Will look at you with the saddest, most guilty and teary-eyed expression when he realizes that he has been unconciously humping your thigh the entire time

(He's so pathetic I love him)

Please stop bullying him, he really can't take it anymore :(

Shenhe:

Yes.

Let's be for real; you already top her most of the time.

Something something the red rope is there to keep her in check something something sexual intimacy is a very emotional affair that may or may not trigger her.

Although she is faring better now, Shenhe still fears having any sort of power over you, so she would rather just let you have any advantage she can give.

Not that it would matter much if she actually went on a rampage. But it's the thought that counts<3

I think she's a breather. No loud moans, no grunts or growling. Just soft, quiet breaths.

Would not mind if you are loud, though. The entire point from this is that everyone is at their most vulnerable, right?

If you ever made her top you then she'll be so sweet and attentive<3

Quietly asking for consent before touching anything and constantly checking if you are comfortable.

She is just trying her best, and god is she good.

Mavuika:

Yes.

Thinks you can't handle her (Smug Fuck x2)

You can't, but still—

Is very chill in general, but oh archons can she be such a tease when she wants to be.

Would go out of her way to hold her own reactions in. She just wants you to go all out on her<3

.. and maybe tire yourself out to the point you cannot continue anymore.

Can and will taunt you. Again, she is just encouraging you to reach your limits<3

Won't do it for much though because she knows when you are too exhausted and it's her duty now to take good care of you too<3

Can be very gentle when she wants to be.

You were doing your best just now. It's her turn to return the favor now<3

As always, this is written just for fun. Feel free to pile up your own thoughts on it :>

Your body stirs faintly under the weight of Phainon's trembling form, but sleep clings to you like a heavy fog, your heat-scented skin radiating waves of intoxicating warmth that drive him deeper into madness. His fluffy ears twitch with every ragged breath you take, his tail thumping erratically against the bed as he presses his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

The scent.

Your scent.

it floods his senses, sweet and musky, pulling at the primal instincts buried in his hybrid blood. He's supposed to wait, supposed to respect the boundaries Khaslana drilled into him, but how can he when you're like this? So vulnerable, so his to claim.

"P-please... wake up," Phainon whimpers again, his voice cracking with desperate need as his hips grind harder against your thigh. The fabric of your pants bunches under the friction, his hardening cock straining against his own shorts, leaking precum that soaks through and smears wetly onto you. He nuzzles closer, his sharp canines grazing your collarbone in a mix of apology and possession, a low growl mixed with a whimper rumbling in his chest—not aggressive, but possessive. 

No one else gets to smell you like this.

No one else gets to touch you. 

You're his precious kitty. His everything, and this heat of yours is a siren call he can't ignore.

His hands, rough from woodwork, clutch at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to leave faint marks—marks that scream 'mine mine mine' even if you don't see them yet. He shifts, straddling your leg more firmly, his body heat mingling with yours in the dim intimacy of the room. The air is thick, charged with the slick sounds of his humping, each thrust forward making his balls tighten with aching want. 

"I-I can't stop... it hurts so bad without you," he confesses in a broken sob, his tongue lolling out to lap at your skin, tasting the salt of your sweat mixed with that irresistible heat pheromones. Saliva trails down your neck as he licks broader strokes, cleaning and marking you all at once, his obsession bubbling up in the way he whispers against your ear.

"You're mine, right? Only mine... no one else can have you like this." His voice drops to a possessive hiss, even as his body submits to the rhythm, hips bucking faster, chasing friction that does nothing to sate the fire raging inside him. He wants to bury himself in you, to knot and fill you until you're bloated with his cum, until the everyone knows you belong to him.

But he waits—barely—for your eyes to flutter open, for you to acknowledge him, to let him help like he so desperately needs to. His free hand slips under your shirt, claws retracted but pads pressing warmly against your stomach, inching upward as if seeking permission in your awakening.

When your lashes finally part, hazy with sleep and the haze of heat, Phainon's pretty blue eyes lock onto yours, wide and pleading, pupils blown with lust and unhinged devotion.

"[Name]... you're awake. Let me— ahn!—let me make it better for you. P-please.." He doesn't stop his movements. He can't. His cock throbbing visibly through the damp fabric as he ruts against you, breath hot and panting over your lips. In this moment, submissive as he is, his heart coils tighter around you—refusing to let go, refusing to share.

Your eyes meet his, and in that hazy instant, the heat surging through your veins overrides any lingering drowsiness. You watch as phainon desperately rut into you, as lust began to cloud your mind.

Phainon's plea hangs in the air, his body trembling atop yours, cock twitching against your thigh with urgent need. You nod faintly and it's all the permission he needs. His ears perk up, tail wagging furiously as a broken whine spills from his throat.

"YES! Yes yes yes—thank yooouuu—!" he sobs, voice thick with relief and hunger. In a frenzy of motion, his hands fumble at your clothes, claws snagging fabric as he yanks your pants down your hips, exposing your slick hole to the cool air. The scent hits him harder now, unfiltered, and he groans, shoving his own shorts aside to free his throbbing cock. It's thick, veined, the tip already glistening with precum, knot swelling at the base in anticipation of locking inside you.

He doesn't waste time. Phainon grabs your thighs, spreading them wide as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock nudging against your hole. "Gonna fill you up... make you mine forever," he pants, eyes glazed with devotion, before thrusting forward in one desperate shove. His length sinks deep into your heat, stretching you around him, the slick sounds of entry filling the room as your walls clench instinctively.

"F-fuck... so tight," he whimpers, hips snapping immediately into a brutal rhythm. He's submissive in his begging, but the way he fucks you is pure possession—each plunge burying him to the hilt, balls slapping against your ass with wet smacks. 

“Phai— wait!—” Your breath was taken away from you as you feel every ridge, every pulse of his cock as he grinds against that spot inside you, his knot bumping your entrance but not yet forcing in. His hands pin your hips down, keeping you open and vulnerable beneath him in this raw missionary hold, his chest pressing to yours as he licks and nips at your neck, marking you with saliva and light bites.

The pace builds fast, his whines turning to growls of obsession. "No one else... only me breeding you," he hisses between thrusts, cock pistoning relentlessly, churning your insides with slick friction. Precum mixes with your arousal, leaking out around his shaft as he chases release, but he holds back, wanting to drag this out, to claim every inch. Your body arches into him, heat demanding more, and he obliges, angling his hips to hit deeper, the tip kissing your g-spot with each forceful drive.

But Phainon isn't done with just this. His mind races with visions of locking you in place, ensuring his seed takes root. "Need... hahh—need to knot you properly," he gasps, pulling out suddenly with an obscene pop, your hole clenching around nothing. Before you can protest the emptiness, he flips you onto your stomach, hands gripping your waist to yank your ass up high. Doggy style suits him perfectly—his hybrid instincts kicking in as he mounts you from behind, tail curling over your own possessively.

"Like this... gonna breed you like this," he breathes hot against your ear, slamming back inside with a single, brutal thrust. The new angle lets him go even deeper, cock spearing you open as his hips piston wildly. His balls swing forward, smacking your inner thigh with every pound, while one hand reaches at the flat of your stomach to press on the bulge, heightening the burn. He leans over you, weight pinning you to the mattress, teeth grazing your shoulder as he bites down—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to stake his claim. "Gonna pump you full... watch it drip out, then plug you up again. You're staying bred, kitty. Mine."

The room echoes with the filthy symphony.

Skin slapping skin, your moans mingling with his desperate whines, the squelch of his cock plunging into your hole. Sweat slicks your bodies, his skin brushing your back as he ruts like a beast, knot swelling thicker now, teasing your hole with each withdrawal. He grinds it against you, stretching your rim wider, but pulls back just shy of locking, prolonging the torment. His free hand claws lightly at your sides, leaving red marks that scream ownership.

Not satisfied yet, Phainon's instinct demands more variety, more ways to bury himself and ensure you're overflowing. He withdraws again, cock bobbing slick and angry, strings of arousal connecting you. "Hold on... gotta make sure it sticks," he murmurs, voice laced with unhinged devotion. He rolls you onto your back once more, but this time hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half—the mating press, intimate and inescapable. Your knees nearly touch your chest, ass lifted off the bed as he looms over you, blue eyes boring into yours with manic intensity.

It feels so hot.

"Look at me... see how I claim you," he demands softly, submissive plea twisted with command, before driving back in. The position crushes you beneath him, his cock hitting impossibly deep, bullying your walls as gravity aids each downward thrust. His knot finally presses insistent now, the bulbous base grinding against your stretched entrance, demanding entry. You feel it pop past the ring with a lewd stretch on one particularly hard slam, locking him inside as his hips stutter.

"Ah—! Yes yes yesss—! More!—" he cries, though it's you he's begging through, body shuddering as his orgasm crashes. Hot ropes of cum flood your insides, pulsing thick and endless, his cock twitching with each spurt. He doesn't stop moving even knotted—shallow grinds, rocking to push it deeper, ensuring every drop coats your insides. His tongue lolls out, lapping at your face in sloppy affection, hands cradling your head as if you're precious, breakable—his to protect and possess.

But Phainon's fire isn't quenched. As the knot holds, he shifts you both, rolling so you're straddling his lap in a twisted reverse, his cock still buried deep. "Ride it... milk me more," he whines, hands on your hips guiding you up and down the locked length, the pressure building another load already. Cum squelches out around the seal, dripping down his balls, but he ignores it, focused on the nasty intimacy—your body impaled on him, forced to take every inch in this breeding perch.

He maneuvers again, easing you onto all fours while knotted, the tug pulling a gasp from both of you, then mounts you sideways, spooning tight as he resumes shallow thrusts. Each position milks him further, his seed overflowing, marking you inside and out. "All mine...," he whispers obsessively, nuzzling your hair, even as exhaustion tugs at him. 

Finally, spent and locked, he collapses around you, cock still pulsing faintly, ensuring his claim lingers long after the heat fades.

SEPERATE ENDINGS — REAVER | KHASLANA

SPECIAL CHAPTER — ❝AT THE SAME DAMN TIME!❞

wc— 1695. | edited.

Let’s be honest, he isn’t the most discreet when stalking you. You find his hair all over your things. You think it was done on purpose. And he also makes sure to leave little notes every where: under your bed, your pockets, the small zipper in your bag, even in your underwear drawer.

But how do you know it’s Pervert!Lohen, you ask? Well, who else would leave you letters with creepy undertones like:

“You looked so nice today, were you wearing a shorter skirt just for me? I could tell what color your panties were. You must know I stare.”

“I saw you tossing and turning when I came in your room last night. You were moaning too… I hope you were dreaming of me.”

“You’ve been buying more and more clothes recently, specially on bras and panties. Are they going missing? I mean, I can see why. They smell amazing.”

It’s disturbing how fast those notes accumulate over time. And how disturbing their contents are. You’ve tried to confront Pervert!Lohen once or twice, but he only looks at you with those big, red-blue eyes and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

“Hm?” His brows furrowed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” A pout forms on his pale face. It was a look of pity and regret. “Have you been getting enough sleep lately? You know, sometimes when we’re under a lot of stress, we lose tend to misplace things and see stuff thats not really-“

You cut him off, anger rising in your tone. You couldn’t believe he was gaslighting you!

“Don’t play dumb with me! I know you have been stalking me and taking my shit!”

Pervert!Lohen’s look of pity quickly morphed into one of amusement. His eyes narrowed as they bore into your very soul. “Why do you insist that I am your… secret admirer.”

You scoffed, “The word you’re looking for is ‘stalker.’”

He chuckles, “Fine then. Why do you think I am your ‘stalker?’” He puts up air quotes and you rolled your eyes.

But you stop yourself and actually think, you have no solid evidence against this man proving if he’s your stalker! What if you’re wrong and he’s actually innocent?

No, there’s no way he’s innocent.

Not with that look on his face, he’s probably enjoying watching you spiral.

You wish Pervert!Lohen’s strange behavior ends there, but it doesn’t. When you’re out and about In Mondstadt city, he is literally everywhere you cannot lose him for the life of you. Everywhere you turn you see his cursed turquoise hair.

It doesn’t matter if it’s the Angel’s Share, the Cathedral, the Statue, shit, even all the way out near The Dawn Winery — he’s everywhere. You’re fully convinced he embedded a tracker in your skin or something.

Pervert!Lohen is so touchy.

Every time he greets you he must be touching you somehow. The first few tines it’ll be a handshake, then a hand on your shoulder or arm, and now he’s hugging you with his hands caressing every curve and groove in your body. He yearns to touch more of you, but you back away before he has the chance.

The other day, you felt him shiver after inhaling deeply.

That freak.

Next thing you know, he’ll be leaning on for a kiss. Or something more.

Pervert!Lohen has cameras all over your home. He doesn’t make up an excuse as to why he does, he isn’t “trying to protect you” or “keep you safe” or anything like that. It’s simply because he finds you interesting. He’s never felt this way about anyone else, and he will figure out why you do what you do to him.

Well, at least that was the reason why. Initially, he thought you’d find his cameras and tell him off about them (because he put them in the most easy to notice places) but you didn’t.

Why?

Do you enjoy teasing him like this?

Or are you just as stupid as he thought?

As weird as it may sound, half of him wants to be found out. Pervert!Lohen wanted you to get mad at him, tell him he’s crazy and that you’ll never forgive him.

He squeezes his thighs together, the tent in his pants growing more visible by the second.

Maybe you’ll punish him if he’s lucky.

Although, he might be fine with you being oblivious. For now, at least.

He gets to watch you get dressed and undressed every day and night. He’ll stare in awe when he sees your body soaked after coming out of the shower. He’d replay the clip over and over in one hand while his other tends to the aching heat of his lower body.

It doesn’t take much to get Pervert!Lohen worked up.

Even if you just stand still for too long his mind would be racing with his lewd fantasies.

Out in public you would catch him eyeing your body up and down, like he was assessing you and your choice of clothing. Sometimes he would even make comments on it

“That top’s new. Don’t tell me you’re buying new clothes just for me to gawk at?”

“Why am I staring at you? No reason. I’m just… imagining something…”

Eerily enough, his comments would bring you back to those notes you’d find in your stuff.

There’s no way he isn’t your stalker.