saestarrr!

mini writing blog! mdni :p

little drabble bc dictator mbappé is legit the funniest thing ever to me rn lol 😭

It was bad enough that Julien regularly came across "kawaiicore" edits of him on his feed, with filters ballooning his eyes and devastatingly emasculating pink cat ears that made him sigh every time he saw them... but now, this?!

On your phone was a TikTok slideshow full of AI pictures of him wearing a military uniform with ominous music in the background. The caption? Le dictateur. (#dictateur, #julien loki, #fyp).

"Oh, putain de merde." he muttered as you laughed hysterically beside him, collapsing onto the couch. "Water was really wasted for this shit? This guy better delete it."

"The dictator doesn't like it," you cried, stomach cramping from your giggles. "'Delete', he orders."

Julien sighed. "I can't with you."

smut mdni!!! :x freaktoshi rin x femreader lol cw: slight praise kink, spit kink, creampie (?)

At first glance, no one could've guessed what went on between you and your boyfriend in the bedroom.

Maybe it was Rin's closed demeanor. Or the way he regularly dismissed most others' ideas as "lukewarm" and "half-baked", turning his cheek and plugging his ears to anything that did not serve or please him. But to outsiders, (and even you, sometimes), Rin came off as an unimaginative and closed-minded person. So when the two of you finally became comfortable around each other, and sex became a regular occurrence, you were met with a pleasant surprise.

Who knew he would've been so kinky?

"Fuck... yes, right there... keep fucking milking me dry, pretty..." he grunted as he streeetched you into a full nelson, blunt fingernails digging into the backs of your knees as he practically folded you in half and .

"R-rin! Fuck, 's too much... Please..." You squirmed and whined as he forced your knees even further back, making the limits of what you originally thought you could handle seem like it was nothing. This was definitely a new position for you. You weren't complaining, though.

"You're so pretty. Do you like that, sweet girl?" he muttered softly against your lips only a half-hour later, cock slowly sliding in and out of you effortlessly. It was like he was a missing piece of you. So sweet and caring he was, you thought. He loved you so affectionately and tenderly and attentively, and yet-

A few minutes later, he had you in tears. Pounding into you from behind, Rin's shoved his fingers from one hand into your mouth, his other hand preoccupied in slapping your ass every time your mouth even dared to open. "S-slow down!" Slap. You whimpered.

"Fuckin' slut..." he muttered to himself, his pace growing impatient as he yanked your head up by the ponytail and spit into your mouth, fucking into you ruthlessly. Your pussy fluttered weakly around him as he squeezed your fifth or sixth orgasm out of you - you'd came too many times to count.

By the time Rin had filled you with his seed for the nth time, he'd tuckered out. Collapsing onto the bed, he ran his hands through sweat-damp hair as he tried to catch his breath.

"Bend over in front of me," he said casually. "I wanna see just how good I fucked you."

In which your daughter interrupts Loki's zoom interview. Based off of this lmao. Also don't mind my french a lot of it had to be google translated because I got so unsure lol

The interview was going to go smoothly. Everything was all according to plan. Just this last online interview, and Loki would be done for the day. In just ten minutes, he'd be at the dinner table with his family. In just ten minutes, he'd be freed from all formal duties and finally be able to put his PR-trained persona to rest. Just thinking about it made him dig his nails into the arms of his office chair. "You only have to scrape your way through these ten minutes," he told himself, clenching his jaw. "Just hang on. Focus!"

As the journalist prepared his questions, Julien straightened his posture and put on his warmest smile with what little strength he had left.

"Vous êtes prêt?"

"Mais bien sûr," Julien affirmed.

"Eh bien, laissons-nous commencer."

Julien knew the routine by heart.

3... 2... 1...

Action!

"Alors, Loki, je sais que vous devez souvent entendre cette question. Mais qu'avez-vous tiré de votre rôle de capitaine de l'équipe nationale?"

Julian waved his hand dismissively with a smile. Polished. Practiced. "Ah, mais ce n'est rien. En fait, j'aime cette question, car-"

A tiny voice called out from beneath him. "Papa, papa!"

Shit. Was he really so out of it that he hadn't even noticed his own daughter coming into the office? This was bad.

"...comme je disais, car il y a beaucoup à apprendre, surtout quand-"

"Papa! Mais tu fais quoi? Who is that?" your daughter interrupted again.

Julien smiled at the camera awkwardly as he tried to steer her away discreetly, stroking her curls. "Er... I'm in an interview, sweetheart. Why don't you go and play with your dolls and daddy'll be out in-"

"I can't see, daddy. Who is that?"

The journalist raised his brow on the other end. "Bah, si vous voulez faire une pause pour le moment-"

"Non, non!" Julien chuckled nervously. "Juste une seconde, s'il vous plaît."

Swiveling around in his chair, Julien decided to do the only thing that seemed correct to him in this situation. He called out for his wife.

"CHÉRIEEEEE?!"

"WHAT?!" you yelled out from the kitchen, transferring the chicken into the oven.

"WOULD YOU COME GET OUR DAUGHTER, PLEASE?"

"I'M BUSY!"

"I'M- IT'S A LITTLE URGENT! PLEASE?!"

"ONE SEC!"

Julien clicked his tongue, rubbing his temples. "Oh, mon-"

"But I wanna stay," your daughter whined. "I wanna play with you!"

"Yes, I know, but now's really not the time, sweetheart..."

"What, what is it?" you groaned as you finally made your way into the office, slapping your hands against your thighs.

Julien let out a sigh of relief, trying his best to maintain his composure. "I'm in an interview."

"Nobody can see me, right?" You glanced at the computer briefly.

"Yeah."

You nodded. "Come on, sweetie, out."

Your daughter folded her arms stubbornly, jutting out her lip. "No."

"Out," you said sternly. "Don't make me count."

"No!"

"Alright, that's it." Holding up three fingers, you counted them down slowly. "Un... Deux... Tr-"

"Fine, fine!" your daughter pouted.

Taking your daughter's hand, you shot your husband a glare. "You need to help me with the pasta later."

"Got it. Thank you, Chérie," Julien said, blowing you a kiss as you made your way out of the door. Whew. Situation handled. Narrowly. He turned back to the camera, picking up where he left off. "Alrigh- ah, pardon. Où en étions-nous?"

The rest of the interview went perfectly, save for the strange twitch in the journalist's eye. As usual, Julien finally found his day's peace at the dinner table. At night, he slept like a baby knowing how well he had handled the situation.

Apparently, the world said otherwise.

"Julien!"

In the morning, Julien woke to find you fuming beside him, your eyes narrowed angrily as you shoved your phone in his face.

He took the phone from you gently. Squinting at the screen with groggy eyes, Julien could barely make out the headline. Once he caught a glimpse of its contents, he immediately shot up and focused his vision.

"VIDÉO – Le nouveau capitaine de l'équipe de France interrompu par sa fille en direct!"

"Ever heard of muting and turning off your camera?" you sighed.

"I swear I did, Chérie, I'm so sorry I must have been-"

You rolled your eyes. "Well, it's too late to be sorry, because we're viral."

You scrolled down with your index finger and pointed at the screen. 3 million views.

"Fait chier," your husband muttered under his breath. He fell back onto his back, pressing the heels of his hands onto his forehead and wishing the bed would just swallow him whole.

Was looking on the bluelock wiki and apparently sae regularly takes 1 hour naps?! thought it was such a cute idea for a lil drabble so here you gooo. literally just straight fluff.

As much as your boyfriend rejected the idea of spooning, protesting that sleep was strictly a time of rest and personal space, you could always count on his mid-day nap as a loophole to his no-cuddling policy. By afternoon, after interviews and practices, Sae practically had no energy left to deal with people; not even to swat you away. So, to his misfortune, it eventually became accepted routine for you to snap on some brand-sponsored eye masks and settle down on the couch with him during his designated nap time - at exactly 3 pm.

"Alright," he would say, setting the timer on his watch. "Come here." And at 3 pm exactly, your only rule was to keep silent. Almost always, you found yourself on top of him, your head resting on his chest so you could fall asleep to his heartbeat. He'd tolerate the clinginess, just for an hour, and maybe unconsciously (?) sling an arm around your waist protectively. The two of you would stay like that until both of you fell asleep. Once you woke up, the precious hour would be over in an instant.

This habit of his (now, yours) had actually proved effective to your sleep schedule - you found yourself less groggy during the end of the day, and your overall energy had increased decently. Though often, you wondered, was it really the sleep that rejuvenated you, or getting to be in Sae's arms?

So, on an unassuming night, you decided to experiment. Shifting sneakily under the covers, you carefully took Sae's hand, beginning to wrap it around your waist as slowly as you could until you heard his tongue click. You groaned.

"Uh-uh," he muttered groggily. "Don't even try it, babe."

avoidant!reader x avoidant!kaiser (implied fem reader!) cw: slight suggestiveness, mentions of sex

“Don’t sl- yeah, come here,” Michael told you as you stepped into the opposite side of the tub slowly, his hands tightly squeezed around your forearms as if the thought of you falling was his greatest fear.

“I’m not going to slip,” you reassured him, settling down into the warm water. It was a wonder as to why Michael always chose your apartment to stay over at, because clearly none of the amenities could fit the both of you without smushing you together. But maybe that was the point. Your bathtub was stupidly shallow and small, leaving little to no space between you; his long limbs cramped awkwardly against yours, and it was impossible to get any sort of distance between the two of you.

You lived alone, after all, and it was no question that you enjoyed your own space – which was what the tiny bath was intended for. But, as always, Michael invited himself wherever he pleased. To his unbelievable ego, this behavior was only fitting – no, deserved, as the future of German football. To you, it was irritating.

“It’s too cold,” he said, reaching over to run some more hot water out of the faucet.

“You were the one who couldn’t just wait for me to finish my homework,” you chuckled, resting your cheek on your knuckles.

Michael shrugged. “I was just out on an icy ass field for three hours. I’m freezing. And you have no heating, you psycho.”

“I do, I just don’t have the money to crank it like you do,” you retorted, laughing.

He flicked some water at you with a grin. “Psh. Whatever, Schatzi.”

The two of you sat there for a good amount of time, your eyes fixed on each other. With the strange progression of your relationship, this type of proximity seemed both completely discomforting and exhilarating at the same time. No more boundaries. No more repression of emotions. For two people so emotionally afraid, this was like a double-suicide.

Eventually, Michael’s eyes darted to the plain bar of soap on the dish next to the shower head. “Hand me the soap.” You reached over and handed it to him. “Thanks.”

You brushed your foot against his shin. “Feel gross after practice?”

“Nah. I showered there already.”

“So you just wanted to see me naked?” you teased.

He shrugged again shamelessly. “Yeah. I wanted to see all of you. So?”

Your eyes softened. “You probably would’ve either way.”

Dipping the soap into the water, he frothed it up between his hands before reaching out to you, splaying out his fingers and cupping his soapy hands around your neck. Not choking. Just holding. He pulled you closer; close enough to the point where your chests pressed together and you had to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself.

The two of you locked eyes. There was a hunger behind his icy irises, a familiar furrow in his brow that always indicated he wanted something – that something, you were never sure what.

“What are you doing?” you muttered, just quiet enough to be kept a secret between the two of you.

Michael stared down at you half-lidded, then shook his head. No talking.

He stroked the nape of your neck tenderly before moving down to your shoulders, massaging the suds onto your skin until the number of tiny white bubbles became impossible to count. 

Nudging you so your back was pressed against your side of the tub, he moved to your collarbones, digging his thumbs into the tiny dips, the crevices of you. Finally, he placed his slick hands on your breasts, fondling them gently until your nipples pebbled underneath his warm palms. You let out a quiet whimper.

Michael looked at you softly before leaning down to steal a kiss from your lips, muttering a quiet “shh” before slipping his tongue into your mouth. You wrapped your limbs around him obediently, feeling him harden against you as his kisses made their way down to your jaw. Kisses then proceeded into possessive nips and bites, making you dig your nails into his back. Then, Michael pulled away. Something disappointed him. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to love you without… making love with you. Fuck, actually, I don’t even know how to love. Period.”

Despite knowing he was right, you tried to offer a smile. “No, it’s good, it’s fine…”

“No, it’s not. It’s pathetic, and I don't do pathetic.” Michael stared down at the soapy water. It had cooled down significantly since you’d first gotten in. “There hasn’t been a single time I’ve come over without us having sex. And I love making love with you, but that stupid ‘casual’ relationship we agreed to fucking ruined us.”

“No, it didn’t,” you protested. “Michael.”

He looked up at you, brows furrowed in frustration. “What?”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, ok?” he sighed, shoulders slumping defeatedly. “I do. I love you.”

Just hearing the words made your heart feel like it was collapsing in on itself.

“Then how could we be ruined?” you muttered. The words didn’t hurt your chest anymore. Wrapping your arms around him again, you buried your face in his neck, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to ignore everything in your being screaming not to.

This was dangerous, you told yourself. This was a sure and stupid way to get yourself hurt. You’d been avoiding this humiliation for god knows how long, and now, you were exposing yourself in front of the one person who knew others’ weaknesses, and how to make it hurt.

“I love you, too,” you finally reciprocated, words muffled by the ink-stained skin between his neck and shoulder.

That wasn’t enough for him. “Let me see your face,” he said softly against your hair. Slowly, you lifted your face from his neck. Michael cradled the sides of your face, examining your features as if you were art, lips parted softly at the sight of you.

He smoothed your hair out of your face, not even blinking once. Blinking would make him miss the moment. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated, trembling fingers curling around his wrists.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured instantly, suddenly bringing his lips to yours again.

You could feel his lips quiver as he kissed you, holding you until your feet wrinkled in the cooling water. Was he just as nervous as you?

“I’ve never done this before,” he whispered against your lips. “And I'm so fucking lost. But I'm going to do this right." After all, it had always been Michael Kaiser’s dream to be loved.

And you’d just made it come true.

smut mdni, avoidant!reader x avoidant!kaiser (implied fem reader!) cw: oral sex, dacryphilia

“Hey,” Michael muttered as you tugged on the waistband of his sweats impatiently. “What are you doing? What’s the rush?”

“Uh, let’s not forget you were the one who just came over unannounced.” You placed your hands on his knees, positioning yourself in-between his legs. You were practically kneeling on the ground as he leaned back onto the bed. “I have dinner plans.”

Michael scoffed. “With who?”

“What does it matter? I thought you were here for a blowjob,” you sighed.

“Touché.” His eyes trailed off to the ceiling.

Resting your cheek on his inner thigh, you toyed with the damp bulge over his black boxers. His hips trembling against you, Michael didn’t even try to hide his sensitivity. Ironically, the truest version of himself seemed to be in the bedroom – communication was at its best between the two of you when your wants and needs were expressed with physicality and filthy sounds. Forget words.

Pulling down his boxers, you finally freed his cock. Like all his other features, Michael’s dick was irritably pretty – long, thick, and flushed pink at the tip. You could feel the warmth of him in your hands, the sheer hardness of him as his cock sprung out of the waistband of his sweats and slapped against his abs. He was vulnerable at this state, more vulnerable than he’d ever allow himself to be. Under your control. You gave him a gentle kiss on the tip to test the waters, tasting his salty pre.

“Schatzi,” he breathed out, tilting his head back in pleasure. “Quit fucking teasing and blow me already.”

“I thought I was the one going too fast,” you laughed. He whined impatiently.

So you quit teasing him. Not wasting any time, you licked a long stripe up the underside, then took him into your mouth all at once. His cock twitched furiously as you bottomed out, your free hand fondling his balls.

“Fuck…” Michael let out a pathetic moan. Burying his hands in your hair possessively, he guided your head up and down until he took matters into his own hands, bucking his hips up into your throat at a bruising pace until tears stung your eyes.

“Mi… cha…” was all you could choke out, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the sheer size of him.

“Haah… hah… ‘re you gonna cry? You just… looove choking on my cock that much, Schatzi?” he cooed, petting the side of your face affectionately. You whined in response as he bullied his cock down your throat, trying your best not to gag with each of your whimpers.

He was close. You could tell by the desperate groans escaping his lips and the way his grip on your hair tightened impossibly. “Look at me, sweetheart… Let me see you cry.”

Fisting your hair into a ponytail, he yanked your head back, revealing your teary-eyed expression. Your hollow cheeks. The way your lips suctioned around his cock so perfectly. Something about you pushed Michael over the edge. He spilled into your throat with a singular thrust, hot and heady, forcing your head down until your nose brushed against his crotch. You could feel him soften in your mouth as he released, lip caught between his sharp teeth as he seethed in satisfaction. 

“Sheiße, that’s fucking adorable…” he moaned breathlessly, staring down at you through his lashes. “Now swallow… such a good girl.” Eventually, he released your hair from his grip, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain what little dignity he had left.

Taking him out of your mouth, you attempted to reach up to wipe the rest of him from your lips before he abruptly leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, tongue pushing its way past your lips and inviting itself into your mouth like it was routine. (Well, technically, it was routine, but the suddenness of it all caught you completely off-guard).

And despite your protests, you kissed him back. Because you were weak for him. And he knew that. And in a strange way, you knew you were weak for each other; that that was the entire motive behind your “casual sex”, and that there was nothing you could change about the agonizing push-pull of your relationship. You both wanted a piece of the other, but were too ashamed to open up. So you tortured yourselves, demeaning all feelings that weren’t physical attraction until you had no idea what emotions you were and weren’t allowed to feel.

“What was that?” You gasped for air as you finally pulled away from the kiss.

Michael chuckled lightly, raising a brow. “What, like I haven’t kissed you before?”

“Well normally, before you kiss someone, you give them signals instead of, like, just grabbing their head and going for it,” you muttered, getting up from the floor and flopping onto your back, your limbs splayed out against the same sheets you had washed rigorously a few nights before to rid of his scent.

“You’re mine, though.” Michael settled down next to you on his side, placing a hand over your collarbone and toying with the strap of your bra. “Do I really have to ask for permission?”

You kept silent at that. After a beat passed, he let out a sigh. “You’re right. I take that back. We’re not…” You could feel Michael’s piercing gaze burn into you as it often did at night, begging for any sort of confirmation you could give him. But neither of you even knew what this was anymore. So you and him kept still. Waited for the other to say the words, but they never came.

The two of you laid there like that for what seemed like hours.

But after a few minutes, taking a deep breath, you finally found the courage to ask the question that had been engraved into your mind ever since this stupid arrangement wedged its way into your relationship.

“Michael,” you began, squirming softly as his sharp nose tickled the skin of your neck.

“Yeah?”

“Is it really casual between the two of us?”

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence before he answered. “I… I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Well, I don’t know. Define casual,” he muttered, attempting to flip the question onto you.

But you wouldn’t have it. “I’m asking you," you said sternly. "You define casual.”

“I don’t know. When it’s, like, chill. When you’re cool about it, and both people are just… fine, if the other person is, like, seeing other people,” he murmured, stroking your stomach with his thumb.

You glanced down at him nervously, taking note of the quiet helplessness across his beautiful features. “Well, are you chill about me?”

Michael’s eyes averted in shame. You did the same.

“It’s okay,” you said, running a hand through his golden roots. “Neither am I.”

“Cancel your dinner plans,” Michael ordered softly into your neck, barely pressing a kiss below your jaw. “Let me stay over again tonight.”

vivien Hugo x g.n reader drabble! pure fluff :D

Being close to Vivien meant learning not to question whatever it was he called “destiny”. Even when it came to scooping up a stray cat from the streets of Lyon in the dead middle of winter.

“Look, bébé,” he’d said as he kneeled down to examine the mewling kitty in a snow-disentagrated cardboard box. “He’s calling out for us, and he has no tag. It’s destiny.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s antics. “You don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl. Actually, you don’t even know if it’s neutered or spayed. Plus, it could have rabies.”

And yeah, you left with your new cat bundled up in Vivien’s scarf, sharing yours as you braved the winter cold together; because according to him, it was destiny.

How else did his idea of destiny constantly affect your lives? His insufferable pickiness towards restaurants. On date nights, you’d wander aimlessly around town until a place “spoke” to the both of you. The annoying part? The grueling method nearly always delivered. The two of you found hidden gems in corners of the city you never would've expected.

As much as you hated to admit it, Vivien’s “destiny” ideology unearthed a fair share of the tiny pleasures and simple joys in your life.

So, it was to no surprise that when Vivien proposed to you on an unassuming night stroll in the park, there was only one explanation.

“I didn’t plan it out, really,” he’d murmured as he swiped away your tears with his thumb. “Seriously, I’m surprised you didn’t expect it sooner. It was predetermined. Wired into us. Couldn’t you tell it was our destiny?”

avoidant!reader x avoidant!kaiser (implied fem reader!) cw: slight suggestiveness/smut towards the end??? idek i've never done this before...

Your entire bed smelled like him.

Like everything else about Michael Kaiser, his scent welcomed and imprinted itself wherever he went. The two of you had met through a mutual friend – which eventually led to a twisted, movie-like “no strings attached” routine of yours. In fear of the paparazzi, it was arranged that all affairs were to be held at your place. However, following these passionate nights spent together, the scent of him lingered even days after, a constant reminder of his presence and the agonizing nature of your relationship. Your sheets now constantly smelled of sex. And tobacco. Musk. A hint of exhaustion. He must’ve been doing it on purpose, you swore – even after a long shower together with the plainest soap you could find, the evidence of him still remained. 

It would’ve been fine, if only it didn’t make this “casual” arrangement even harder than it already was.

Now, nights without him were spent awake and restless. Mornings were spent up at sunrise, staring at golden strands of hair on his pillow with a silent ache in your chest. Had you not adapted to a strict regime of constantly washing your sheets with strong detergent and vacuuming like a mad person, you would’ve gone mental. 

Even worse, Michael seemed to be completely ignorant to the way the traces of him quietly took over your life, innocently flopping on your bed whenever he saw fit like the emperor he treated himself as. He had conquered the bed, and it was impossible to rid it of him now.

❦

“Don’t hide yourself,”  he muttered one night as he sauntered out of the bathroom after a shower, loitering at your side of the bed and tugging down the white sheets that concealed your face. You stuck your tongue out at him. He grinned. “There’s my girl.” Ouch.

As he made his way back onto your bed like he’d done countless times, out of habit, you couldn’t help but admire him. His hips were just barely wrapped in towel, blonde and indigo hair soaking wet against his skull like he couldn’t just dry his hair with a towel. But something about his effortlessness was almost artistic in a way, like he’d been a muse in a past life, reincarnated into an almost statuesque sense of beauty. Everything about him was distinct. There was no way he hadn’t been born with purpose. God had made him with intention – a vision. His sharp cheekbones. His sculpted abdomen. The navy blue rose etched into his skin, cascading down his neck and onto his left shoulder. And then it hit you. That smell. You audibly groaned.

“What?” He paused, offended, one knee on the edge of the bed.

Ugh. You’d have to explain yourself now.

You sighed. “You know, after you leave, my bed smells like you for, like, a week.”

“Oh,” he shrugged passively, settling onto the bed and leaning against the headboard. “That’s funny, Schatzi.”

“No, it’s not,” you grumbled. “And you shed hair everywhere. You’re like a dog.”

Michael chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “Whoops. Sorry.”

Something inside you boiled. His infuriating facade of nonchalance was, in fact, tearing away at your resolve to act the same. It was always a game of internal tug-of-war with a man as emotionally unreliable and egotistical as Michael, a matter of ‘who will break first’ and ‘it’s not gonna be me’. Safe to say, nine times out of ten, it was you.

“I don’t like breathing you in and having to pretend you’re next to me at night,” you said quietly, eyes flickering away in shame. “And I don’t like finding strands of your hair on the pillow, or your huge footprints on the bath mat, and feeling disappointed.”

Michael kept silent for a moment, azure eyes focused on yours.

“Schatzi, I thought you wanted-”

“No, Michael. I hate this. I hate doing this just for us to have cereal in the morning and act like we’re normal friends,” you snapped, jaw clenched and throat suspiciously sore.

He swallowed, then patted his thigh. “Come here.”

But you refused. Soon after, he took matters into his own hands, lifting you effortlessly by your waist and into his lap. You melted. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you could smell the very evidence of him that you so utterly despised and loved at the same time.

“I said, don’t hide yourself,” he commanded softly. “I hate it when you do that.” You obeyed. He kissed your tears away gently, eyes half-lidded in focus as if your face of despair was something magnificent to behold.

Eventually, you could taste the salt of your tears on his lips as you rode him slowly, breaths mingling together in an alternate rhythm, chests pressed against each other to the point where you couldn’t tell your heartbeats apart. Letting out a wanton moan, you realized that sex seemed to be the solution to this indescribable pain.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He shook his head, stroking the side of your face. “Don’t apologize.”

“I just… I don’t want to ruin this.”

He stifled a whimper, rolling his hips up to meet yours. “Me neither.”

“Because… I…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the words as he pressed his thumb down on your clit, thrusting deep into that spot he knew you loved so much it made you lose all thought. As you collapsed on each other that night without saying a word, both he and you knew nothing would change.

So the two of you went to sleep as usual, with him wrapped around you like cellophane. You couldn’t sleep. You could feel his eyes practically burn into your skin the entire night.

In the morning, you had stale cereal and pretended it didn’t happen.

After he left, you washed the sheets.

Sae Itoshi: letters between you and lovesick sae ✿ | napping with sae ✿

Rin Itoshi: kinky love ✳︎

Michael Kaiser: is it casual? ✳︎

Vivien Hugo: destiny calls ✿

Bunny Iglesias:

Julien Loki: c'est la vie ✿

drabbles:

(still under construction...)

blue lock ⚽︎

jujutsu kaisen ⎈

kimetsu no yaiba ❂

Letters between you and Sae, your Daimyo husband who is always away... Inspired by the letters between Napoleon Bonaparte and Joséphine! :)

Your husband, Sae, had been away for what seemed like ages. 

It had barely been a week since he had left you yet again for another “expedition”, and already the house had begun to suffocate you with its emptiness. You had gotten well-accustomed to tending to chores and managing the house alone while he was gone, though no matter the normalcy of this arrangement, it was never of any use. Instead, you spent your days wandering around the quarters endlessly, mind scattered with how to fill the empty space your husband unfailingly left with each of his departures. To make matters worse, the two of you had parted ways in a rather… bitter mood. You had gotten into an argument about how little time he spent with you, how finding a new world seemed to be his priority over adoring his wife – how nothing ever seemed to be enough for him, and still, he constantly demanded more of the world. Leaving you in tears, and him, apparently, in great determination to leave you once again with his chin up high. That day, however, as he quietly made his leave through the garden, you swore you could see a flicker of guilt on his solemn face behind your pristine hydrangeas.

After the second week of his departure, the mandatory letter from your husband arrived. This was how you communicated while he was away - though the rare sentiment in this particular letter struck quite an interest in you.

"To my dearest,

Regarding our conversation before my departure, I would like to clarify my argument.

You know that I am a high-ranking official. These duties are bound to me, and it is far from my desire to attend these meetings. Time away from you does not enthuse me in the slightest. The opposite, to be quite frank. 

So know that I continue to love you tenderly, even from the farthest of places, from the other end of Japan, from the bottom of my heart. Do not doubt that.

If you feel lonely during this period, sit in the garden and recite my favorite poetry. Pretend I am the wind. Miss me dearly as you do with that affectionate heart of yours, and I will do the same.

Do be good while I’m gone. Please write. You’ll worry me otherwise.

-Itoshi Sae."

✿ "To my husband,

An apology? What! Shall I display this letter above our bed?

I was unaware such tender words could be wrung from you, even on paper.

When you return home, be as loving as you describe yourself in letters. Otherwise, if you plan to neglect me once more, do not return.

-Your wife."

✿ "Sweetheart,

Your words sadden me. Have I not paid enough attention to your needs? Have I been such an unbecoming lover?

How do you spend your days? Use the servants to your advantage. Do not burden yourself with such mundane tasks like cleaning the floors, as you always do. I would much rather be welcomed by art and affection than a cold home when I return.

The bed feels empty without my arms around you, does it not?

When I return, expect a tight embrace, lover, as I am deeply wounded by this thought.

-Your very concerned husband."

✿ "Husband,

To answer your inquiry, my days are mostly spent outside. Your brother takes me often.

Sleeping alone does not bother me. Oftentimes, you run too cold. That bothers me.

-Your wife."

✿ "Tender girl,

Don’t you know it’s naughty to be taken by another man? My despicable younger brother, no less. You are not his playmate. This idea brings me nothing but worry and sorrow at your loneliness. Have tea with your friends in the garden. Spend time with the kittens.

Your letters are getting shorter and shorter. I am neglected by you, nothing but an afterthought. I do not enjoy this pettiness.

These weeks have been torturous. Every living moment without you is spent with you in my thoughts. I dream of your soft kisses, listening to your voice, being in your arms. Spend your days thinking of me in the same manner, as I am shackled in a prison of pure boredom.

Wait for me. Is that too much to ask? And pray, cultivate the habit of writing letters that are larger than the size of my palm.

-Your husband."

✿ "Husband,

I played with the kittens today. They scratched my arm.

Neglect is a harsh word - how can I neglect you when you are never physically here? A strange contradiction, really. If I am taking the time to write you a letter right now, how could I be neglectful? It is slightly larger than my palm.

Should you ever be bored and lonesome, remind yourself that you have trapped me in a massive estate all by myself like a hostage.

-Your wife"

✿ "My darling wife (whose palms are far smaller than mine),

My one wish right now would be to kiss the pain from your wounds. If you’d let me, that is. Are you angry? Let us reconcile. I am desperate, not to mention agitated, by your lack of affection. Am I not your husband?

Do not place blame on me for the strain on our relationship. Again, this is not of my choice. Apartness for me is like the burden of being a fish out of water, a man without air. Without you, I feel ill. Lovesick.

And do not deny that you love me. Should you be too embarrassed to say it out loud, show it to me with actions. That will suffice. Tell me you love me with the softest of touches, the strum of your shamisen, even your simple presence will do.

Leave space for my lips on your cheek, your shoulder, your breasts. I come home in a week. Upon my return, I will show you how I love you.

requests:

only fem/g.n reader pls!

I mainly write for jjk, bllk, csm, and kny. u can request any others but chances are I might not know it :(

pls be respectful!

ABSOLUTELY NO:

rape (anything non-consensual), incest of any kind, age play, feces, yandere, hybrid, omegaverse, anything illegal/gross in general

won't be checking ages in blogs simply bc i don't have that amount of time on my hands! even so, minors just pls be responsible