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Jean always kissed like that. Gently touched your lips with his own, just smearing them on the skin. While they were still dry, just touched them with the softest and lightest movements. He kissed you several times in short pulls, each time proving how much he loves you. And then he snuggled up to you again, leaving his lips on yours for a long time. He gently crushed it, wrapped his lips around yours, and all this is so gently-gently, as if he pressed harder, your tender lips might crack from this and he would have to lick your salty blood.
You didn't understand how in all the years that you were with Jean, he learned to kiss like that. Because you've been with him since you were sixteen, and neither of you had any experience. But even then, in the first kiss, he knew how to kiss like a god. Apparently, the higher being endowed him with this skill from birth, so that he would drive you crazy with his lips and tongue right away.
Of course, you adopted his skills of amazing mastery of your lips and tongue, but it still seemed to you that you were not doing as well as he was. Not that good. Not that sensual. Although you studied with him, you were excellent teachers and practices to each other. Morning, afternoon and evening, as much love as you could express with him all day.
Jean kissed too romantically. Even an ordinary kiss in the morning, when one of your couple was running away, for example, to work, could become a real event, because the way Jean was able to pull you to him, put his hands on your waist, gently squeeze while and lean towards you to reach your sweet lips, Kissing them gently-gently for long seconds, through the quiet murmurs of words of love for you, it could not be described in words. Just the feeling of how much you love this man, how you will miss him all day, how soft his lips are, and how lucky you are.
And now he is hovering over your body, holding on to your forearms near your head, with his fingertips straightening your hair lying on your forehead. Jean gently stroked your skin and hair while kissing your lips, cheeks and nose. God, how you loved it when he kissed you on the nose. It was much sweeter, hotter, more romantic and more intimate than an ordinary kiss, or passionate tongue entwining between each other, or when you or he gave each other pleasure with tongues.
His lips gently cupped your lower plump lip, and gently crushed it, tasting it countless times. Jean already knew perfectly well what your lips were like, where wounds were most often formed when your lips were chapped, what they tasted like depending on the time of day and your mood, how you liked to open them or smile through a kiss. But he couldn't get enough of it. It seemed to him that eternity would not be enough for him to stop enjoying and loving kissing you.
After the soft touches, there were more serious actions. But before that, there was always a short break when you looked away from him, just examined his face, his swollen lips, straight nose, slightly flushed cheeks, honey-colored eyes that glittered without light around, a small crease between the eyebrows, which always straightened out at such moments, because he became as relaxed as possible. You looked at him, and then you talked about how much you loved him. You will never stop loving him. You're with him for life. Until the end. Only death will separate you from him.
When your hands get lost in his soft hair at the back of his head, when you take him closer to you to feel his body and the warmth coming from him, Jean finally gets a taste and opens his lips, which gently runs the tip of his tongue over your lower lip, feeling the sweetness of your grape lip balm. Most lip balms smelled delicious, but had no taste, so you looked specifically for those that felt sweet on the tongue.
And God, how he loved it. Jean knew that your lips were sweet and without any balms, so he started practically devouring you. By running your tongue over both your lower and upper lips, leaving his saliva on them, the sounds from your lips and his became even louder. You loved it so much. It was probably one of your favorite sounds in the world. How the lips are smacking apart between you and Jean.
After another short break, while you put your hands on his neck, wrapping both hands around your jaw to gently stroke his cheeks, prickly because of his stubble, Jean finally pulls you even closer to him, opening your mouth with his lips to run his tongue inside and gently circle your inner the surface of the cheeks and teeth, play with the sky, and you quietly start giggling and pushing it away, because you always got tickled because of this action.
Letting him sit between your legs, you clamp him with your hips so that he definitely won't go anywhere, wrap your arms around his damn wide shoulders while he shamelessly licks your mouth and strokes your soft thigh with one hand.
And when it becomes difficult to kiss, your lips tingle from what Jean did to them, and your chin is slightly scratched because of his stubble, he just lies down next to you, pulling you to him, with his own hands laying you right on top of him, on his chest, which rose steadily high when breathing. You snuggle up to him as close as possible, trying to absorb the warmth of Jean's body into yourself, and give him your own warmth, whether it's not physical, but only mental, because his body has always been warmer than yours. Sometimes it seemed to you that he was just a constantly working stove.
You liked touching him. Hug him, lie on him, hold his muscles, run your hands over his skin, over his facial features. Now you can safely take Jean's hand at any time, hug him, kiss him, or just poke him when you want to feel him. You used to miss all this so much. But now you have it. You have everything you wanted. Well, almost everything, but so far you've had enough.
Lying on him, you just enjoyed life and breathed deeply. You gently stroked the joint of the muscles of his chest and shoulder, feeling his warm skin under your fingers, gently touched his collarbone with your nose, feeling his home T-shirt smell of his own smell and the smell of the new conditioner for washing that you found in the corner store. And Jean's hands just held you tightly, not letting you run away anywhere, just move if you suddenly felt uncomfortable in such a position. Sometimes he began to move his fingers along your shoulder in circular movements, which caused the warmth of pleasure to spread through your body, as if there were some unknown streams of energy in the tips of this man's fingers, which began to flow right inside her, through your body to your soul.
This guy is a hopelessly romantic. Therefore, he will talk to you about love forever. It doesn't matter how, whether it's how he talks about how much he loves your food, or he likes your mole on your shoulder, it will be. Always.
Immediately, as soon as your first words are uttered over the recording video, Rintaro’s booms down the hallway. You laugh and smack your hand on the counter, trying to keep it as quiet as you can as you hear him continue to yell.
“THE FUCK YOU THINK THIS IS? WE’RE LOCKED IN, WHAT THE FUCK!” Socked feet barrel down the hall and you’re quick to hide the camera behind a bottle of mouthwash. His body quickly comes into the frame, chest puffed out and hands on his hips. “You got something you want to tell me?”
You pull your lips down in thought before shaking your head, “no. I don’t think so. I didn’t even know you were home.”
“Oh!” He says dramatically, clapping his hands together. “So you’re just always talking about dumping me to your little Internet friends?”
“Only in my fantasies,” you hum, tossing your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He pouts, and you giggle and kiss him again, “but if I ever do decide to dump you, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
This, has him blinking unamused at you. Then, his hands leap up to grab your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a loud, wet kiss, his lips pressing kisses over your laughing mouth, teeth, and lips. “Listen to me.”
“Rinnie!”
“No. Shush. Listen to me.” He pulls back and rests his head against yours, hands still squishing your cheeks. “I have shit out an engagement ring for you. I have your name tattooed on me. I got clawed to death by your rat fuck cat, and I have a shirt with your face on it that I wear when I go out. We’ve shared a toothbrush, you pinch my nipple when I’m showering, you text me and ask me if I’ve pooped, and I know damn well you take ugly pictures of me when I’m sleeping.”
“Your point?”
His nostrils flare, “you so much as THINK this relationship is ending, I’m going to tattle on you.”
“Oh, please-“
“To Komori.”
This, has you paling, and you nod softly and gently grab his shoulders, “no, okay, you’re right, you’re right baby, I’m sorry.” He nods as you press a kiss to his lips, “but in all seriousness-“
“Oh, I’m serious, too.”
You snicker, “in my seriousness, I’m never going to leave you.” You flash your engagement ring to the camera and purse your lips out, and he smiles down at you. “who else is going to poop out a ring, then lie to the salesman about why we’re returning it, and get me a new one, hmm?”
“Thankfully, I’m the only one who will.” He kisses your forehead, then looks at you with sad eyes. “We’re locked in?”
“Yeah baby,” you giggle, kissing his nose. “We’re locked in.”
The knock comes just past one this time. Later than usual.
You’re already half-asleep, blanket tangled around your legs, when you drag yourself to the door. No words needed. You open it.
Leona’s there, as always, hood up, tail twitching, that sandstorm voice laced with annoyance and something softer.
“Y’really live like this?” he grumbles, eyes scanning the peeling paint, the crooked chandelier, the suspicious chill in the hallway.
“Did last night suddenly raise your standards?” you yawn, stepping aside.
He snorts. “Tch. Got snowed on just walking here. This dump needs insulation. Or an exorcism.”
You flick his arm as he stalks into your room like it’s a five-star suite and not a glorified closet. He peels off his hoodie and slumps onto your bed like he’s folding himself into a too-small suitcase, limbs dangling off the edge, tail flopping over your pillow.
You shut the door. Not like ghosts are gonna snitch.
“…Y’know this bed ain’t meant for two,” you murmur, sliding in beside him. Your back’s against the wall. He’s everywhere else. Warm. Solid. Smelling like warm musk and faint cedar.
“It is now.”
The night is quiet. Except for the creak of wood and his heartbeat under your ear.
You wake up late.
You know you’re late because the light outside is way too sunny, and Leona’s arms are way too tight around your waist.
You try to move. Mistake.
“Don’t,” he mutters, breath ghosting over your neck. “I’ll bite.”
“I’ve got- We've got class-”
“We don’t.” He nuzzles into your shoulder, that lazy drawl curling around your resolve. “They’ll live. Or they won’t. Either way, I’m not moving.”
You twist in his hold. “You’re not skipping another alchemy quiz-”
His tail coils around your ankle. Like a velvet shackle. His voice drops low and smug.
“I’m already failing that class, herbivore. Might as well sleep in.”
…
You try to be strong. You do.
But then he tugs you back into his chest like he’s got his own orbit and you’re just something that can’t help but gravitate to him.
You sigh. Guess you’ll both be absent today.
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before he even knows he loves you: he’s leaning in when you talk, putting his hand over your head so you won’t hit it, tying your shoelaces when they come undone, filling up your empty water bottle, walking on the outskirt of the sidewalk when taking you home on later nights, and opening every door you walk into.
yet when akaashi comes up to him one day to ask him if he likes you, all he can say is “what? why?” because aren’t those reasonable things to do? model citizen acts? part of the good samaritan rulebook?
but he dissects them slowly, runs through it all in his head, a replay reel of each tiny, unconscious act lined up in neat little rows. he doesn’t remember when it started; can’t pinpoint the moment it stopped being “my friend” and became “my person.”
he realizes that maybe, akaashi’s right.
he starts doing things more deliberately, more carefully, scared of being caught in the act. scared you will catch him, and he won’t know what to say.
he’s clumsier with his affection now that he knows it’s affection. holds the door open too early. brushes your hand and jerks away like it burns.
he tells himself it’s just who he is. warm-hearted. attentive. his mother raised him right.
but when he sees you laughing with someone else, head tilted back, eyes squinting in the way he’s learned means you’re genuinely amused—he feels something tighten in his chest. something unfamiliar. something that doesn’t feel make him feel like such a good guy.
he sits with it. wrestles with it.
later, he finds himself watching you scroll on your phone, feet tucked under you on the gym bleachers, hair slightly out of place. and when you look up and smile, not tired out by the world today, everything clicks into place.
he doesn’t say anything. not yet. but when you stand, he’s already beside you, already lifting your bag onto his shoulder, already asking if you want to grab something to eat before heading home.
this time, he knows. this time, he doesn’t need akaashi to tell him.
he’s in love.
which should be a good feeling, right?
it should be.
yet every casual gesture is now laced with consequence. every look, every word, every action, feels loaded. he starts second-guessing the very instinct that used to guide him so easily.
should he still tie your laces? is that too much now?
can he offer you his jacket without it meaning anything?
was he being obvious before? were you just being kind by not pointing it out?
he means to leave.
the second he hears your voice, he tells himself—go. you weren’t talking to him. he shouldn’t be standing there behind the door, eavesdropping with a racing heart and a dry mouth.
he freezes when he hears his name: soft and unsure, a fragile thought spoken aloud. then a laugh from tatsuki, and a reply along the lines of “looks at you like you hung the moon.”
you sound nervous.
he peeks over, bolder now. you’re fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and nodding intently at what his teammate is telling you—more than clearly agreeing.
right as he convinces himself it’s wrong to listen in, begins to back away and starts to leave, he picks up on the last thing tatsuki suggests to you:
“if you like him so much, tell him.”
and suddenly, all the instincts and all the will in the world are on his side.
sitting in bed with kaiser, watching a movie when a dirty scene comes up. the both of you watch the scene for a couple of minutes before you speak, “you know, i never know what to do when something like this comes up. i mean, when i’m watching with another person, yknow?”.
you turn to kaiser and see that he has a pillow over his lap and watching the screen. your lip quirks up and you lean closer to his ear. “are you..enjoying this, kaiser?”. he scoffs and turns his head away, replying, “shut up, it’s just good camera work.”. his actions contradict his words as he grips the pillow over his lap more.
this only causes your grin to widen as you lean closer, whispering in his ear, “you know…i can help you with that…”. he doesn’t reply but you can hear his breath hitch, as if he’s considering it and you press your lips to the shell of his ear.
“keep watching the screen...”, you whisper and place a few kisses to his ear, trailing them down to his neck. all the while, he’s finding it harder to pay attention to the movie. after a few more moments, he throws the pillow away and grabs your throat, pulling you up to make his lips meet yours in a hot kiss.
wasting no time in reciprocating, you kiss him back, moving onto his lap with the guidance of his hands as they wrap around your waist. your arms snake around his neck and continue kissing him fervently. he pulls you closer by your waist, slipping his tongue into your mouth and his hands under your shirt.
you move one hand to his hair, tugging it gently and eliciting a small moan from him. that makes you smile. and he hates that. he takes that as an invitation to go further and moves his hands to someplace you’d really rather not have him touch.
immediately pulling away, you move his hands off you. “no, no- not there”, you say, breathing a bit heavier. kaiser’s hands go up to not touch you, looking almost…concerned. guilty? no, he’d never feel such a thing. let alone for you.
“sorry”, he mumbles, seeing you wrap your arms around yourself a bit. you shake your head and mumble back, “it’s fine. i shouldn’t have…started that.” “that’s not your fault.”, he replied, seeing your expression get more upset. he places his hands on the sides of your waist, cautiously, as if to test out your boundaries. “is…this okay?”, he asks, almost softly. the tense in your body doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he takes his hands off your body again, mumbling an inaudible ‘sorry’ again.
seeing your expression get more nervous, he cups your cheek, gently and makes you look at him. “hey…”, he coos. you meet his eyes, almost shamefully. “what..?”, you ask. “it’s okay. it’s not your fault. it’s mine.”, he replies and it sounds like he’s comforting you. he’s never comforted someone like this before. or ever.
“do you..want to watch something else?”, he asks. you take a few seconds to think and nod, slowly, “..yeah. i’d like that…”. he nods in response and takes the t.v. remote, switching the adult movie off and loading your favorite movie. why does he know your favorite movie? who knows?
as much as you didn’t want him to touch you there, you didn’t want to move off his lap. he was warm. and..soft. and for the first time since you met him, you feel like he’s more than just Michael Kaiser, egoist striker. he’s…kaiser.
as the movie starts playing, he looks back to you, moving some of your hair away from your forehead. “you’re gonna have to face the other way to watch, der trottel.” you don’t know what that means but you can only assume it’s something insulting.
“i know…”, you say but make no initiative to actually move. his hand moves from your forehead to your cheek, running his thumb across your skin and brings his face a bit closer. “hey…”, he murmurs, trying to meet your gaze. you’ve been looking down this whole time but finally look up to meet his eyes. they’re like sapphires. you swear you can almost see the moon in them.
the way he looks at you is like he’s asking you a question. searching for the answer in the depths of your irises. you lean closer ever-so-slightly until the tips of your noses are touching each other. the striker’s eyes flicker between yours before hesitantly closing the gap between your lips, planting a kiss to your lips. he was almost expecting you to push him off again, and honestly, so were you. but you didn’t. you didn’t push him off. you didn’t slap him. you just…stayed. closing your eyes after a second, you move your lips against his slowly. he kisses you gently. almost carefully. as if he’s scared to go too far. to scare you off.
after a few more seconds, you pull away, touching your bottom lip with your fingers, still feeling his lips on yours and tasting his vanilla lip balm. “that..was nice…”, you say, quietly and meet his eyes again. “...i’m glad you think so.”, he replies, his eyes never having left your face. the sounds of the intro song playing in the background makes you snap out of your daze and you clear your throat. “sorry, i should- uh..”, you stammer and turn around to sit between his legs, looking at the t.v.
kaiser doesn’t mind. he notices your stiff posture, as if you’re forcing yourself to sit up straight and places a hand on the side of your arm, trying to coax you into relaxing. “you’re gonna hurt your back sitting like that.”, he says. “sitting straight is good for my posture”, you reply, not allowing yourself to lean back against him. you can hear his soft sigh at your words and he doesn’t pester more, but keeps his hand on your arm, his thumb rubbing your skin, gently, as he watches the movie.
you relent and hesitantly lean back against his chest, holding your breath while doing so. you can feel his body relax at your movement and his thumb keeps moving comfortably against your arm. you feel more relaxed, the longer he does so and you lean back against him more. the two of you watch the movie intently, you more so than him as he can see your mood brighten while watching your favorite characters on the screen.
after a while, you speak unknowingly, “baby?”. kaiser’s head immediately turns to you, moving his hand to your cheek, “yeah?”. he replies without thinking and immediately gets wide-eyed. you snicker a bit at his reaction but before you can tease him about it, he interrupts. “just- shut up. what did you want?”, he asks but his hand remains on your cheek. you turn his head back to face you his chin. the second his eyes meet yours, the question you wanted to ask him leaves your mind and you just stare up at him, keeping your finger under his chin.
he doesn’t coax you to keep talking, just staring back at you. his eyes search yours and he leans down to be closer to you. “..what is it?”, he whispers but doesn’t expect you to answer. instead, he pulls you closer to press his lips to yours once before puling away, as if to test your comfort level. your eyes flutter close as he kisses you and once he pulls back, you chase his lips, connecting your lips again in a gentle kiss.
your hand moves to his cheek and your mouths move together, slowly, for a few moments before you pull away enough to ask, “you still hate me, yeah?”. a chuckle leaves his lips and he mumbles, “on your life, i still hate you”, before connecting your lips again.
all rights go to @semisutopia on tumblr. please don't copy or plagiarise my work. that's really lame of you.
did i write this because i wanted comfort myself? yes, and?
thinking about thorfinn and askeladd again. sorry just. like. what if he murdered your father and you swore to take revenge at six fucking years old and followed around the murderer in deranged attempts to kill him — and that's the thing, you can't kill him outside of an honorable duel, you refuse to. so you take the bait he dangles over your head and complete task after task after task like a feral dog bounding towards a reward it'll never receive. your father's murderer says, achieve something honorable on the battlefield and maybe I'll let you kill me. you're a nordic warrior, aren't you? and if nothing else, nothing else, without even realizing it: you trust him to honor his promise. is it because it's an oath made by a warrior (but he isn't even a warrior, he's a filthy murdering pirate (you're murdering people all the same how many fathers and mothers have you killed how many children have you orphaned how many—)) or is it because you know he'll have your back on the battlefield the same way you have his? is this because you've known each other for eleven years now? is it because he's essentially raised you? is it because you understand him better than even his only friend? you could kill him. it'd be easy. you're on even footing with him — maybe on higher footing. but you won't. you never will. because at the end of the day, no matter how skilled a fighter you are? you're just a brat who rises to the most obvious of baits and loses because of your temper. what hope does a seventeen year old brat have against a man with decades of experience on you?
he killed your father. he destroyed your heart. you destroyed your own life. he dies, and you're set adrift with your life's purpose lost and ruined. what was he to you? did he care? did you care? what do you do when the only constant in your life just disappears like that?
what do you do when you wake up and realize you're drowning in a sea of blood?
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
idea that has been sitting in my drafts ever since i read that chapter wherein Silver mentions Lilia would take pictures of them together over the years and that got my heart like AUEUEUEUE THAT’S SO CUTE 😭 ( me likes to think mama zigvolt introduced it to them and ever since, lilia got that tradition ‘til he ran out of polaroid film lmao
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