kale

Pull down his pants so you could check the accuracy ofc

“Didn’t you say ‘Kill me’?”

Summary: You just chomped Zanka while cuddling and he IS not going to let it slide!

Warnings: fluff, suggestive(?), reader is genderneutral, no use of she, he or they, reader is biting Zanka and lots of fluff.

Characters: Zanka Nijiku.

A/N: Thank you for the request love<33.

Zanka learns very quickly that cuddling with you is a dangerous activity.

Not because you squeeze too tight or cling too much—he can handle that. He pretends he can’t, but he can. What he cannot handle is the way you get this look in your eyes when he’s relaxed. When his guard is down. When his shoulders finally loosen and his breathing evens out like he’s not constantly bracing for the world to swing first.

That’s when it happens.

You’re pressed against his side, legs tangled, his arm slung around you in that careless way he only does when he’s exhausted. You’re peppering his face with soft kisses—jaw, cheek, temple—nothing unusual. Zanka’s already red about it, already clicking his tongue.

“Hey—stop that. You’re being annoying.”

You hum, clearly not stopping.

Another kiss. Another. Your hand sneaks into his jacket, fingers warm against his side, and Zanka exhales through his nose, trying very hard not to melt into it, while he's body is burning hot. He’s about to say something else—probably another half-hearted complaint—

When suddenly you bite him.

Not a nibble. Not playful teeth.

An actual bite to his shoulder.

Zanka yelps.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

He jerks so hard you almost roll off the couch, clutching the fabric of his jacket like it personally betrayed him. He whirls on you, face flushed, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Did you just—did you BITE me??”

You’re already apologizing through laughter, hands on his chest, trying to explain between giggles. Something about how he’s cute, how it’s an instinct, how you didn’t mean to bite that hard—

“That hard?!” he snaps. “You bit me like you were testing if I was edible!”

You lean in again, kissing the spot like it’ll undo the damage.

It does not help.

Zanka slaps a hand over the bite, mortified and flustered and very aware of how close you are again. “Don’t—don’t kiss it! That’s not how that works!”

You kiss it again.

Then, without warning—

Another bite. This time to his collarbone.

Zanka freezes.

Slowly, slowly, he grabs your face between his hands—not rough, but firm enough that you can’t escape—and stares at you like he’s reevaluating every life choice that led here.

“…Are you a damn animal?”

You grin.

His ears burn bright red. “Stop smiling like that! I’m serious—quit biting me! What if someone sees that?!”

He tries to pull away, but you cling, curling back into his chest like nothing happened. Like biting your partner is just a normal part of affection. Zanka huffs, annoyed, heart beating way too fast for someone pretending not to care.

Minutes pass. You’re calm again. Quiet. Just breathing together.

Zanka relaxes.

Big mistake.

You tilt your head and bite his jaw.

He loses it.

“THAT’S IT—NO MORE CUDDLING!” he barks, pushing you back just enough to scold properly. “You don’t get to act all sweet and then attack me! That’s not affection, that’s psychological warfare!”

You pout. You say something about how it’s because you like him too much.

He falters.

“…That’s not—” He looks away, jaw tight. “That’s not a good excuse.”

But he pulls you back anyway.

Careful this time, he keeps one hand at your shoulder, like he’s bracing for impact. “If you bite me again,” he mutters, “I’m putting you on the floor.”

You promise. Probably lying.

Zanka knows this.

He sighs, resigned, cheeks still pink, holding you close like you’re trouble he chose willingly.

“…Seriously,” he grumbles, softer now. “Warn me next time, at least.”

And yet—he doesn’t let go.

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Blake choosing to mask himself as a dreamwalker even though it’s one of the hardest forms of magic for a non-dreamwalker to replicate because at least in a dream he could mold himself into something his best friend would actually love.

Blake studying every guy they’d ever liked, taking their qualities and subtly integrating them on himself when he would pull them into a dreamscape. Maybe even something subtle, a mole they found cute, dimples a guy had that they said made him look sweet.

Blake looking into the mirror in the morning after the dream, disappointment consuming him from the inside out. Why couldn’t he be better? They were perfect for him, an exact replica of everything he’d ever wanted, so why couldn’t he be perfect for them in return?

He dug deeper, finding out everything about them he didn’t already know. He started wearing at least one thing in their favorite color every day, learned how to perfect their favorite food, dyed his hair the color they liked best.

He pushed down the anger.

The abhorrent anger that he could feel burning in his chest even when he didn’t want it. They hated that anger. He could tell by the way they would tense every time someone raised their voice, every time they would tear up after getting in trouble with a teacher when they got a bit too rowdy.

He had everything under control. His appearance, his personality, everything about him was a carefully crafted facade that was fit to be loved.

And it worked. The moment their lips touched his, the moment they confessed, he had known it worked. He got so caught up in the emotions, so caught up in the moment that he forgot the most important thing he swore he would never forget.

They didn’t love him.

The mask started to crack. He realized the moment his fist hit the back of their car seat, the first thing to slip was the anger. He watched as they flinched, as their eyes widened, but he was too far gone to stop now.

The lies fell next. The lie about his magic, the hidden secret of their future. When a river runs dry, all that’s remains is the dirt beneath. The truth.

They didn’t love him.

first encounters

°~☆ everything i've loved, I've loved it straight to death °