* Read Between The Lines

 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Read between the lines

»»———–► 

Hello Lovely~ : ̗̀➛ Synopsis: Unspoken ways they say “I love you”

: ̗̀➛ Featured Characters: Thoma, Itto, Gorou, Xiao, Zhongli, Diluc x Gn!Reader : ̗̀➛ Content Warnings: No warnings needed.

Yours Faithfully, Viktor.

                                       … 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 …

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♱ ‧₊˚. THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY ꒰ toji x f!reader ꒱ nsfw — mdni [dubcon (reader is crossfaded), alcohol/cocaine use, mentions of overdosing, infidelity (reader is cheating on megumi), age-gap, degradation, praise, raw sex, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, groping, pet names, squirting] wc [4k] an [repost from last night ⸝⸝ʚ̴̶̷̆ ̯ʚ̴̶̷̆⸝⸝ if you liked this, you can also reblog it]

"m’kay— think that's enough for one night, doll," toji lets out an amused chuckle as he observes your actions through his peripheral.

you’re leaning over the tray placed on your lap to snort your fifth line of coke that night, your head shooting back up to face the roof of toji’s car as you scrunch your nose in an attempt to offset the sting of the powder lining your sinuses. once the feeling subdued, you lazily turn to face the man in the driver’s seat, blinking at him dumbfoundedly with a pouty frown on your lips.

huh.

how’d i end up in my boyfriend’s dad’s car?

why couldn’t megumi come pick me up? did i even call him? i don’t think i did. did yuuji do it? why didn’t megumi come to the party in the first place? oh, right, he has that exam tomorrow morning. wait, don’t i have to write that exam, too? god, it’s so hot, even with the windows down. the wind feels nice… shit, it’s really cold.

the harsh gust of the cool summer night’s wind flew in through toji’s open window and across your body, pushing your hair past your shoulders and raising goosebumps on your bare arms. you shiver against the leather seat, sinking further into it in an attempt to avoid the draft. this shift in your position seems to have only made it worse, however; the rigid breeze now skimming over your chest.

oh, wait, that feels good…

the copious amount of drugs in your blood had you hyper-cognizant of every tiny, minute change your body experienced, and that translated into the heightened responses it elicited.

you feel your nipples harden through the thin fabric of your tank top, and you can’t help the way your thighs start rubbing together to ease the inevitable throbbing of your clit. your breathing is quick to become ragged as you feel yourself burning up, and you undo your seatbelt to shuffle uncomfortably in your seat.

“f-fuck…” it escapes you as the quietest of erotic sighs, yet, it’s loud enough for toji’s ears to pick up on.

he’s snapping his head towards you at the sound of your high-pitched voice and the slow beeping coming from his car to signal him that you’d removed your seatbelt. his brow is raised and worry is hidden in his eyes behind the usual nonchalance they carry— he’s ready to ask you if you’re alright before the sight in front of him nearly knocks the air out of his lungs.

your head is leaning back against the headrest, face set blissfully with slightly parted lips and closed eyes. his gaze scans over your body; your nipples peeking out through your tank top, your far too-short skirt doing a poor job of covering your legs— the fabric bunching up at your hips and one of your hands slotted in between your thighs. you're dragging your clit along your fist, the faint gasps you let out travelling straight to toji’s cock.

fucking hell. were you too coked up to notice that your boyfriend’s dad was sitting right next to you?

from the first day his son brought you home, toji knew. he knew damn well you were going to cause him a lot of problems. he couldn’t deny that he had the hots for his son’s girlfriend; what with the way you waltz around his home wearing nothing but megumi’s shirts and your panties, with the way you talk to him with coquettish undertones lacing your soft voice, with the way you always smile at him so sweetly and so, so enticingly.

did you have any idea of what you do to him? or were you just that fucking naive?

did you have any idea of how he fucks his fist to the obscene sounds of your whimpers and whines as megumi fucks you into the bed in the next room over? or how he spills all over your panties that had accidentally gotten into his laundry? or how you’re in his dreams damn near every night, where he’s the one leaving his mark on you, and not megumi.

he’s brought back to the present when the tempo of the beeps coming from his car increases. before he realises it, he’s reaching out to place a sweaty palm on your thigh— a bit further up than he probably should’ve— to lightly shake you, “hey, doll, you gotta put your seatbelt back on.”

you whine in response, arching your back further off the seat upon the contact of his skin on yours, “don’t wanna…” your free hand finds its way on top of toji’s much larger one, and you slide your fingers under his palm to hold it, “can- can you… h-hah…”

toji would never admit it, but you have him short circuiting. behind his seemingly cool demeanour, he’s having a hard time driving straight in between the lines; his car swerving left and right. the incessant beeping from the dashboard that only seems to be getting louder and louder doesn’t do anything to help the chaos of the situation he’s in, “c’mon, use your words…”

he hides his flustered arousal behind that signature, devilish smirk of his, eyes fluttering between the road and your legs as he swallows an impending groan that’s brought on by you sliding his hand to hook onto the inside of your thigh.

toji's too focused on trying to not let your lewd whimpers get to his head— and his dick, to notice that the grip he had on the steering wheel was turning white-knuckled and that his foot had been applying more pressure on the accelerator.

120 mph.

“t-toji…”

he covers up a cough with a low chuckle, your soft call of his name sending his brain into overdrive. he rubs a comforting thumb along your thigh— fuck, your skin was so soft, “yeah, doll?”

you utter almost painfully, “ngh— n-need… need you…”

130 mph.

toji fushiguro was a greedy man. he craved money, sex, and all the thrills that the universe had to offer. but at this point in his life, nothing came close to how much he wanted you. was it because you were probably the only thing that he couldn’t have? maybe.

was it because you belonged to his son and not him? perhaps.

toji fushiguro was a greedy man, but the amount of self-discipline he has is almost surprising. he knows not to touch what’s not his— especially when it comes to megumi.

but with the way you’re begging him to take you, with the way you’re clinging onto his hand as if it were a lifeline— god, toji doesn’t think his patience has ever been tested to this extreme.

“fuck me… please— oh, god— need it s’bad, toji…”

140 mph.

the thin thread of resolve that toji had was very close to tearing. he inhales deeply, before looking over at you with a grin more sinister than before, “you’re playing a dangerous game here… don’t get your pretty little head into somethin’ y’know you won’t be able to get out of,” his fingers experimentally dig into the flesh of your thigh, coaxing a wanton moan of his name from your throat.

"want you so bad… wanna fuck you so bad," your thighs tighten around his hand, "want you inside me, wanna feel you fill me up—"

and that's when he snaps.

"fuck this," with a sudden jerk of the steering wheel, he's pulling over to the side of the freeway, putting his car in park before hastily undoing his seatbelt and leaning over to maneuver you onto his lap. without warning, he takes either side of your face in his hands, pulling you into him to clash his lips against yours.

the kiss is hungry and full of lust, full of the want and need that toji’s had bottled up in him for the many months you’ve been dating his son.

his fingers trace down your neck to slide the straps of your tank-top off your shoulders, pulling down the front to expose your breasts. the cool breeze of the night flows through the open window, goosebumps forming on your supple skin, and you can't help the shiver that runs up your spine as you press your chest into his to try and feel as much of him against you as possible.

his palms crawl under the fabric of your top and run up your sides, stopping at your chest to rub his calloused thumbs over your perky nipples. his actions elicit a ghost of a moan from you and an uncontrolled buck of your hips against his, "f-fuck..."

toji’s fully sober, but he feels himself getting drunk on your taste and touch, the alcohol on your tongue prominent against his, the tip of his nose lightly dusted with the white powder you messily snorted earlier. your one hand is under his black skin-tight shirt, warm palm placed on his taut abs to feel the way they contract and expand under your sensual touch; your other hand is lost in his straight black locks, gripping and gently tugging every time you feel yourself slipping deeper and deeper into your arousal.

he’s groaning into your mouth and ravishing you with sloppy kisses, sucking and tugging on your lower lip before releasing it with a pop, "do you have any idea of what you do to me? walkin’ around dressed like a fuckin' hooker?" his large hands travel down to your hips, impatient fingers tapping against the cotton fabric of your too-short skirt; he's snarling against your jaw, peppering wet kisses and leaving bite marks along his trail, "the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you smile— the way you cry out my son’s name when he’s fucking you into the bed? yeah, doll, i can hear it all, y’know."

the growl lacing his baritone voice sends blood rushing straight to your clit and prompts you to grind down onto his lap, revealing the boner he'd popped, "please, toji—"

"fuck; you sound even better when you’re sayin’ my name,” his lips are at your collarbone now, trailing south to leave love-bites on the curvature of your breasts— right atop the fading ones left on you by megumi from nights prior. as for toji’s hands— they're on your thighs, palming and squeezing at whatever flesh he can get a hold of.

his fingers dance upwards, and you feel a lick of warmth shoot up your abdomen as he nears the place you need him the most. toji lets out a low groan against your sternum when he feels the lack of the thin fabric he was expecting to separate your cunt from the thick denim of his jeans, "no panties? you're practically begging to be fucked stupid, aren't cha?"

"wan' it s'bad, toji, please, please,” pawing at his crotch with butterfingers, you attempt to remove the button of his jeans, letting out a needy whine when you can't get them undone.

tojii notices that your words are more slurred now— the copious amounts of drugs and alcohol in your system are probably just reaching their peak.

he’s a man of questionable morals; sure, he’s definitely dreamed about fucking you every which way when he sleeps at night, waking up with soiled boxers and sweat drenching the sheets. he’s definitely shamelessly fucked his fist while he hears the bed creak rhythmically from his son’s room next door, your broken mewls and cries spurring him on until he cums the most he thinks he ever has.

he’s a man of questionable morals; but even he can tell this is an all time low for him. there's a voice in the back of his mind that's screaming at him to stop, how messed up it is of him to be fucking his son's girlfriend— but how does he expect himself to hold back when you're the one who pushed yourself onto him, when you're the one asking him— and not his son, your boyfriend— to bury his cock deep within you and fill you up.

toji helps you with unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock from its confines, letting out a curse when the cold night breeze sweeps over it. your pussy throbs at the sight of his dick— it's leaking pre-cum, fat tip flushed red and angry; desperately in need of attention with the way it's twitching against his abdomen. you can't help the giggle that escapes you in that moment, your index finger lightly tracing over a prominent vein, "can tell where ‘gumi got his size from…”

his cock twitches again at your words, a breathy laugh leaving him as he leans forward, one hand finding the back of your neck to mold his lips against yours. with his other hand, he takes a hold of his cock and strokes it a few times, rubbing the pre-cum over his length before flicking your skirt up and gliding the head in between your folds, making sure to give extra attention to your puffy nub. he feels your hips buck against his and your arms wrap tighter around his shoulders when he prods your entrance open, dreamily sighing into his mouth, “feels s’good, toji…”

“h-hah, ‘m not even in you yet— o-oh, fuck,” you sink down on his full length without warning, languid moans falling from both of your lips, and your ass squishing down against his thighs as you take a moment to adjust to his size.

just from looking at his dick, you thought it was roughly the same size as your boyfriend’s but fuck, does it feel so much bigger inside you— the girth stretching you out almost painfully and the thick head hitting pleasure points against your wall that you didn’t even know existed. your chest flushes with warmth when he shifts his hips experimentally, your clit catching onto his pubic bone, earning a broken whimper from you as you bury your head in the crook of his neck.

maybe it’s all the foreign substances in your blood talking, but toji’s dick feels so, so amazing— feels like you’re in seventh heaven, and he hasn’t even started moving. a part of you is scared for him to, knowing that you’ll be sure to cum embarrassingly quick from the heavy drag of his veiny cock and the tip nudging up against that one sacred spot inside you that megumi’s dick couldn’t even dream of reaching.

unbeknownst to you, toji was experiencing the same inner turmoil. he swears he’s never been in pussy this tight— or at least not in many years; and god, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this good. he’s pretty sure you’re unaware of the way your wall is clamping down on his length, but he’s hyper aware of how your ministrations keep pushing him closer and closer to his release. his arms engulf your frame and pull you flush against his chest, his breathing ragged against the crown of your head, “gotta stop clenching ‘round my cock like that, baby, f-fuck.”

your hold on his bicep loosens as you turn your head into his face, lips tracing his jaw. you look up at him through your lashes and you both share the same expression; parted lips slowly curving upwards into soft smiles. toji knew this was wrong; who in their right mind would fuck their son’s girlfriend? you also knew it was wrong, even through your clouded inebriation, but that just added to the thrill of it all; the giddiness in both of you growing by the second, “i— s-sorry…”

toji’s heart swells upon hearing your sweet voice, and he can’t help but coo at you, “good girl, so sweet f’me— umph!”

good girl.

all it took were those two words to have you clamping down on his cock again, this time much harder than previously. a lewd cry escapes your lips as your head falls forward onto his chest, your arms encircling his broad shoulders, “f-fuck, ‘m sorry!”

he’s panting into your neck, hot breath leaving drops of condensation that drip down your skin. toji has a lot of patience and willpower, both of which were running extremely low— all thanks to you. it’s not like he really minds, though; he wants nothing more than to fuck you senseless, wants nothing more than to hear you call out his name, wants nothing more than to taint you and watch his thick seed leak out of you, “y’like that, huh? like it when i praise ya, pretty?”

your needy whine overtakes his voice mid-sentence as your rub your hips against his. you want to fuck him; you want to bounce on his cock and make him feel good, but there’s no way you can. you’re practically jelly in his arms; complaisant and pliable, and half your mind is wishing you’d taken it easier on the alcohol, “mhm, can you— h-hah… fuck me, please, d-daddy?”

toji groans when hears your last word, “smart girl— catchin’ on s’quickly,” he’s quick to heed your request that you asked him oh, so sweetly for, thrusting his hips up into yours gently once, twice, and then a third time, his half-lidded eyes scanning your face.

your bottom lip is caught between your top teeth as you try to suppress the obscene sounds you knew would escape your throat; your eyes are shut and brows furrowed, head tilted back to expose your neck and chest to him. his lips find a home in the hollow of your collar bone, where he sucks and nips to mark you up even more— the thought of megumi finding your body littered with small bruises that he knows he didn’t leave has toji smirking into your skin.

his actions elicit a gasp from you and your fingers find the roots of his hair to grip them, “daddy; please, please, please— ngh, s’good,” you’re babbling at this point, without even the slightest of clues of what you’re begging him for.

calling him “daddy” again seem to awaken some type of carnal desire within him, with the way his thrusts start becoming more forceful and his fingertips dig further into the flesh of your waist. he’s hitting deep— so deep and so violently that your jaw falls slack and a loud moan of his name leaves your lips.

toji growls in response, one hand leaving your waist to pull you in by the back of your neck for a slobbery kiss. your tongues massage each other, drool dripping down the corners of your mouths. it’s messy— full of lust and passion and desire.

he loves it that way.

the sounds of his thighs slapping up against your ass and the wet squelches of his cock ploughing into your leaking cunt fill the empty silence of the car, but your lewd cries and mewls are quick to join the ensemble. you sound so cute— so innocent and so sweet with the way you’re begging for him that a part of toji wishes he hadn’t fallen prey to his craving for you. despite this, he can’t help the ever-growing amount of blood rushing down to his cock.

he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither were you.

every thrust up into your soft cunny has your clit catching onto his pelvis, and you can feel the cold flame in your abdomen burning brighter from the accompanied drag of his cock against all the pleasure points that line your walls. broken gasps and whimpers fall onto his ears as you swear he’s fucking up into your womb.

toji isn’t faring much well off either; your gummy walls have his length in a vice grip, and your voice only drives him closer and closer to his high. his eyes are stuck on your entrance, salivating at the way the ring of cream coating the base of his cock gets thicker with each thrust up into you, "gonna let daddy cum inside this pretty pussy?"

“oh, fuck, y-yes—” your grip on his hair tightens.

“yeah?” it’s a back-and-forth; toji asking you almost mockingly and you responding with high-pitched whines, “so good f'me.”

and suddenly, without warning, he’s groping your ass to fuck you at an angle that has you choking on your breath. you sob at the way the fat head of his dick is hitting your cervix rapidly, falling dizzy from how he’s splitting you in half. an unfamiliar tremor slowly makes its appearance within you, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt it when megumi’s made you cum before.

no, this is different; it feels like a flash, a hot streak ripping through your body and pulsating in your abdomen as you succumb to your arousal, your body breaking into trembles under toji’s secure hold, “daddy, cumming— 'm cumming!”

“shh, that’s it, princess, let go,” his thumb finds your clit to rub gentle circles on it, helping you ride out your high. you're crying while you're cumming, the pleasure hitting you like a high tide, and you’re gasping for air as you feel your essence leaking out of the gap between your cunny and toji’s cock to wet his lap and the leather seat below him. your walls spasm around him, and he twitches inside of you as his thrusts pick up speed, “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum too.”

and that he does. he’s leaning into you, muffling a guttural groan into your neck as his hips lose their rhythmic pace and begin to stutter. he spills inside your womb, seed sloshing around your walls to paint them an opaque, milky white. his cock twitches inside you, the warmth of your spongy walls sending gentle waves of euphoria through him.

you’re resting your head on his chest with his chin on your scalp, both of you heaving to catch your breaths in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm. toji’s the first to speak, pressing a lingering kiss to your hairline, “you’re fuckin’ filthy, doll.”

his voice rumbles through his chest, the reverberations ringing through your worn body and you all of a sudden feel embarrassed, letting out a timid hum as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

“don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now,” one of toji’s hands tighten around your waist, the other coming up to gently cup your cheek and lift your face to meet his gaze.

he had always thought your looks were easy on the eyes, but seeing you like this— with your tired, lust-blown eyes, a thin sheen of saliva coating your pouty lips, and the moon casting her light down on one side of your face to illuminate the apples of your cheeks and the colour of your irises— god, he swears he’s never seen a sight more stunning, “megumi’s one lucky bastard,” his thumb caresses your cheekbone and you find yourself leaning into his touch, a lazy smile making its way onto your face.

he’s silent as he admires your face for a minute before you finally process his previous statement, your brain working at half it’s sober speed, “hah, or maybe he’s not—”

“let’s not… let’s not think about that for now,” he whispers before leaning forward to slot your lips between his in an attempt to push that thought aside in his mind.

the gravity of the situation you’d both gotten yourselves into hadn’t exactly hit yet— neither of you want it to— thinking that you could stay in this position, with his lips moulded against yours and his cock buried deep within the warm confinements of your walls for eternity.

you're both brought out of your post-sex bliss when buzzing comes from your phone that’s laying face up on the shotgun seat. your heads turn in time to take a look at who's calling, only to be met with a selfie of you and megumi on the screen. toji reaches an arm out to pick up the device, an expletive followed by a low laugh leaving his lips, and he taps your phone gently against the side of your head, "so... you gonna answer that, princess? or should i?"

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🐇 omz did not expect my first post on here to do somewhat well, thank yall sm!!

anyway here’s a longer fic ab “studying” w ur roomie albedo thats based on this fanart which literally sent me into shock the first time i saw it <3

🩰 cw: face sitting/cunnilingus (albedo living up to my url lmao) orgasm denial, creampie, overstim (f receiving), choking, spanking, hair pulling, squirting

⁎⁺˳✧༚ nsfw below the cut ! ⁎⁺˳✧༚

you sighed dramatically as you rest your head on albedo’s lap. you looked up at him with a pout as you tugged on his drawstrings, begging him to get the hint.

“no,” albedo told you with a chuckle, playfully pushing your head off his thigh. “i told you before you came in here, that we’re just studying.” you jutted your bottom lip out, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

“we have all night to do that, and i’m horny now,” you whined. albedo didn’t stop you from climbing into his lap, straddling his waist as you tucked your head into his neck. he always smelled so good, like clean clothes and flowers. his skin was soft, too; really, his entire presence intoxicating.

“you’re so needy, you know that?” albedo mumbled into your hair, letting his large hands rest on your hips, rubbing small circles into the flesh with his thumbs. “can’t even let me study in peace. if i knew my roommate was such a nymphomaniac, i would’ve gotten a single.”

you pulled back suddenly. “you don’t mean that, do you?” you asked, your widened eyes scanning his face for a hint of humor.

albedo smirked, ruffling your hair. “of course not, they’re far too expensive. and, you are pretty cute when you actually listen to me.”

you smiled, burying your head into his neck again, smothering his pale skin with kisses and small bites. you felt something underneath you— he was getting hard. you continued your assault on his neck, grinding onto his hardening length. just as you began to feel relief, his hands stopped your gyrating hips.

“let’s stop there,” he said quickly, the outline of his stiff cock pressing against your sex. “don’t wanna start anything we don’t have time to finish, right?” you gave him another fake pout as you lightly bounced yourself on his lap. he watched with amusement, curious to see what you’d try next.

you pulled him to you by his shirt, crashing your lips against his. he let you kiss him; he even parted his mouth to let you slip your tongue inside, which he promptly began to suck. your hands made their way down his toned chest until they were on top of his dick. you pressed down as you pulled back from the kiss just enough to suck albedo’s bottom lip, biting the pink muscle while grinding your palm against his erection until he whined, jerking his head back as he rolled his hips up into your hand.

you smiled sadistically at the blond, your heavy lidded eyes taking in his flushed face. “based on how you reacted from just that, i don’t think it’d take very long to finish, at all.”

“fuck, baby, you never play fair, do you?” he murmured as he ran a hand through his pale golden hair. “look, i really do need to study. so do you, probably more than i do—” he grabbed your hand before you could smack his arm. “so how about this. we’ll play a little game with these flash cards. every answer you get right, i’ll take off one item of clothing. you’ll do the same for me. sound simple enough?” you considered the proposition. on one hand, there was a more than good chance he’d beat you in terms of knowledge. on the other hand, you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist seeing you naked. you gave him an eager nod.

————

you crossed your arms, hiding your bare chest from the man in front of you.

“this isn’t fair, ‘bedo,” you whined. you had forgotten how competitive you are, and after he had stripped you nearly naked in a few rounds, you were getting a little frustrated. “you started out wearing way more than me!”

albedo smiled as he continued shuffling the flash cards, looking up at you with a smug glint in his eyes.

“whose fault is it you walk around the house half naked? besides, i’ve been telling you to study all week, have i not?” he lifted a card from the stack, holding the definition for you in clear view. like every other turn, he rattled off the long, complicated explanation to the letter.

you huffed, turning away with faux indignation. “i’m done playing.”

“so, i was right, then,” albedo replied, nonchalantly, flipping the card over. “hm. well, you know the rules, strip.”

“i said i’m done playing, albedo.”

he chuckled, licking his lips as he leaned back on his palms. “are you, now? that’s too bad, i was about to give you your consolation prize.”

he had piqued your interest. “consolation prize?”

“mhm, was gonna give it to you once you lost. but, if you’re done playing—”

“wait!” you said, tugging off your black thong, discarding it on the chilled wood floor of his bedroom. you were fully naked now, and, though it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, you were a little sheepish. “i want my prize,” you murmured.

“good girl,” albedo cooed. “c’mere.” you crawled your way towards him, and he laid down on his back, tugging your thigh over his head. he gave you a lazy smile as he ran his large hands over your hips. “so pretty,” he sighed dreamily, pulling you down to his mouth.

your body jolted from pleasure as he suckled your clit, involuntary grinding down into the warm of his tongue. albedo’s grip was strong, guiding your pussy against his mouth as he traced each fold. your hands found his hair, tugging as you felt him slip his tongue inside, his languid pumps making you dizzy. with a final suck he pulled out, refocusing on your swollen clit. his tongue traced patterns on the bud, his mouth sucking the soft flesh around it.

“’bedo— hah- feels s-so good,” you mewled, rolling your hips into the delicious sensation. he hummed in response, sucking even more harshly. you moaned, your body frozen pleasure as you felt the tell tale buzzing of your nerves indicating your climax. “gonna—” you were cut off as he pulled you away, right before the wave of your orgasm crashed. “’bedo- why’d you—”

“did you honestly think i was going to let you cum after you’ve been a brat all night?” he lifted your leg back over him, laying you down against the hard floor. “pretty little tease, you always get me so worked up when i’m busy,” he breathed against your neck as he folded your thighs to your chest; you whimpered from the stretch. “i can’t ever think straight around you, ‘m not gonna be able to finish studying now.”

you felt the tip of his cock rub against your clit, sending a warm shiver up your body.

“i- i’m sorry,” you stammered, not even sure what you were apologizing for.

“it’s alright, baby,” he told you, stroking your cheek with a sinisterness in his eyes as he lined himself up with your entrance. “you’ll make it up to me.”

with one forceful thrust, he was inside, the thick head of his cock pressing against your cervix. you must’ve made some noise of discomfort— albedo’s lips were at your neck again, planting soft kisses and murmuring affirmations. you couldn’t make out what he said, your brain focused tol on the feeling of fullness you always got when he bottomed out. you could feel your walls pulse around then, your body trying to get used to his length.

“s- so big,” you moaned as he pulled out partially before slamming back into you again. “ah- ’bedo- not so hard,” you cried, throwing your arms around his neck. albedo clicked his tongue, pushing your thighs back further, throwing both of your calves on his shoulders.

“isn’t this what you wanted, baby?” albedo asked, still mercilessly rutting into you to punctuate each sentence. “so needy- fuck- practically begging for my dick, but now you’re whining like you can’t take it.” he wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make you dizzy again. he shifted his angle slightly as he adjusted your leg, which had him rubbing against a spot that sent electric ecstasy through your core.

“fuck, ‘’bedo, right there—” you felt your back arch as he continued pounding into you, the pain of him hitting your cervix paling in the pleasure of his stroked hitting your g spot.

“i know, sweetheart,” albedo groaned, struggling to keep his rhythm as you clenched around him. “fuck- too fucking tight- relax for me, baby.” you could barely hear him over your moans echoing in the large room, and the wet smacking sound of your cunt taking him. “you moan so pretty, angel, fuck, might just make me finish first, if you keep saying my name like that.”

you felt your body go numb, eyes rolling back as each thrust brought you closer and closer to cumming. albedo noticed, squeezing your throat tighter, the added sensation finally brought you over the edge. you felt your walls spasm as you orgasmed, pleasure exploding in your core and spreading to every nerve in your body as you cried out his name.

you had no time to recover before albedo flipped you over, one hand pressing arch into your spine while the other hoisted you to your knees, holding you in place as he continued to ram into you.

“god, you’re so fucking cute,” albedo moaned, landing a sharp slap to your ass. he rubbed the spot tenderly after you whimpered. “can’t stay mad at you for distracting me— fuck— not when your pretty pussy’s sucking me up like this.” you buried your head in your arms, your legs trembling as he continued his brutal thrusts into your overstimulated cunt. it was too much, the feeling of his thick cock dragging against your abused g spot, the lewd words of your usually reserved roommate flustering you.

“’bedo- please- can’t take anymore,” you whined.

“pretty girl, can’t you take a little more for me? i’m- ah- so close, just a little longer baby, okay?” albedo begged breathlessly, his hand snaking up your back to your scalp, entangling your hair. he yanked you back to his chest, which had him stroking your g spot with an intensity that made you see stars. “fuck, baby, you like it when i fuck you like this? creamin all around me- ah- making such a fucking mess,” he breathed into your neck, the tickle making you clench even tighter.

you felt a warm tremor in your thighs that made your whole body shake. “mm- ‘’bedo— gonna cum again,” you warned; the intensity of the build up made you sure you were going to make a mess.

“yeah? gonna cum with me, angel?” albedo’s thrusts grew sloppier as he approached his climax. you tried to nod, but all you could focus on was the feeling of bliss slowly radiating through you. “fuck,” albedo hissed, spraying thick ropes of his cum into your throbbing cunt. “take it baby, just like that,” he moaned, fucking his seed into you.

the feeling of his cum coating your walls as he stroked your g spot made the coil in your stomach snap; you were soaking him in your release, body shaking with the overload of pleasure. albedo held you through it, gently placing you down once you came off your high.

you flipped over to face your roommate, heart still pounding in your chest. “um, i’m sorry for distracting you,” you mumbled shyly, unable to meet his amused gaze. “and for being a brat.”

albedo grabbed your chin, turning your your face towards him. “’ts okay angel,” he told you, kissing your cheek. “like i said, you’re too cute to stay mad at.”

“friends don’t kiss each other like this.”

or: the things they’d say to you in return.

character/s: xiao, scaramouche, kazuha, ayato, childe, diluc, thoma, albedo

“then maybe we shouldn’t just be friends.” XIAO mumbles dazedly between your kiss, fingers tracing your jawline as he absently admires the soft luster of his saliva on your lips. he watches as you shyly lean in for another passionate kiss, and he can’t help the sly curve that threatens to contort across his lips when he pulls you in to willingly oblige.

“who said i wanted to be your friend?” SCARAMOUCHE sneers — triumphant in pinning your body to the wall to keep you from running away, yet equally mirroring the blatant crimson shade pouring across your face. he sneaks a hungry glance at your lips but doesn’t remember meeting them, until your timid initiation of a plush sensation vividly comes back to both his memory and reality again.

“‘m sorry, love. i don’t think i can do it anymore.” KAZUHA smiles in defeat, yearning quietly as he stares transfixed by your lips, enchanted by the feeling of your mouth against his. he hopes it’s okay with you that he’s finally expressed his stubbornly pent-up feelings for you — he hopes deep down you’ll kiss him once again long before he forgets the exhilarating feeling of it. and when you bashfully move closer to capture his mouth in another soft kiss, he wonders if you had somehow heard him begging you to put your lips on his aloud.

“archons, please don’t remind me about that.” ALBEDO murmurs in a low and annoyed breath, pulling you back into his lips to steal several more heated kisses. he hadn’t planned on what to do if you would have pushed him away out of disdain, but the fact that he feels you carefully melt in his arms and your fingers run through the tousled mess of his blonde hair, makes him softly smile and wonder if you had been waiting for this singularly beautiful kiss as long as he has.

“so you’re saying that…if i called you mine, you would let me kiss you again.” AYATO hums aloud in contemplation, giving you a side-glance of confirmation. his heart soars when you hurriedly look away with a bashful expression, and he cups your cheeks for a second time, now with the faithful promise and intent of making you truly his, for perhaps eternity if you had allowed him, and even longer then.

“great. i always thought that we could do better.” CHILDE smirks nonchalantly, pressing a soft kiss against your jawline when he sees your cheeks instantaneously erupt in burning red. he’s been making discreet advances after all these long years, and eventually rendered you a complete and utter idiot when you had simply brushed it off as a courteous gesture from a friend. he knows kissing you will finally thrust his perseverant intention in your mind — and he figures by the flustered look on your face, you don’t seem to mind being on the receiving end for a handful more moments of his lips against yours.

“i wasn’t kissing you as a friend…” THOMA awkwardly clears his throat, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise to his ears. it had taken him weeks, or even months, to finally set his mind on the bold gesture of kissing you and asking you out. he had prayed to the gods that there was a possibility you wouldn’t reject him after everything you’ve made him feel, but that singular string of hope began to dissipate farther into the deep abyss. and he only manages to grab ahold of that long-drifting fantasy, when you’ve eventually brought him back to reality, by grabbing his shirt in hopes of meeting his lips for a second time, and maybe someday, a thousand more times.

“that’s fine, i wasn’t planning on staying as one for any longer.” DILUC whispers hotly against your lips, dizzy by the unfamiliar yet addicting sensation of the kiss. he knows he should probably distance himself from the close proximity, because if you keep clutching so tightly onto his coat for any longer, he might just take his chances and make the mistake of kissing you again. but you stay stubborn in your position despite looking hazy and flushed, and this time when he latches his mouth against yours, he doesn’t bother to care about any more regrets later on.

love at first bite.

premise: most customers visit your cafe for the delicious bread and good coffee, but he comes for the cute barista behind the counter.

info: your parents run a bakery-slash-cafe and as their child, you're naturally expected to help around the shop. unknowingly, you attract attention in the process.

characters: kazuha, thoma, xiao, childe, albedo, scaramouche & ayato !

kazuha, a part-time employee at the bakery

when your grandmother grew too frail to work at the cafe due to old age and had to retire, the shop had a shortage of helping hands thus needing someone to work her shift. enter kazuha kaedehara, a sweet boy in the neighborhood who's always been in good terms with your older brother. having his eyes on a particular game console at the time, he was happy to help while earning some pocket money for himself.

but even after successfully purchasing the item he saved up for, he continued to work at the cafe. it was certainly something your family appreciated, since kazuha was pleasant company and he was skilled in the kitchen. remarkably more efficient than you for the job, actually, despite the fact you're the one who'll receive the business in the future.

“you won't be so troubled if he were to run the business with you,” your mother stated in what you hoped to be in jest, not subtle in the slightest with her thoughts of kazuha being a suitable son-in-law after he so sweetly prepared a cake for your surprise birthday party. your face burned while kazuha only laughed in cheer, perhaps missing the hidden insinuations. (why else would he smile at that?)

time passed in the blink of an eye and he eventually became a face you often saw first thing in the morning, cheeks dusted with flour and hands gripping a tray of baked goods fresh from the oven. rays of shimmering gold bathed him in an otherworldly glow, smile brightening when he catches sight of your figure by the door.

then you'll grab a towel and rub off the dirt on kazuha's face, missing the way his eyes crinkle in mirth. missing the way your older brother rolls his eyes at the action very much alike pda. missing how you've been doing this for the past three years and not once stopped to think about why he had flour on his face all the time, and if he'd been doing it on purpose just to see you in this proximity. an unceasing part of routine that came as naturally as going to sleep at night and waking at morning.

you see him a lot more in the summer when you both share shifts at the same time, you working at the counter and him at the kitchen preparing treats that already sold out. (he reasoned he preferred it that way to avoid getting flirted with.)

“could i get another order?” the customer you noticed have been staring strangely at you for the entire duration of his stay suddenly went up to ask. you paste on a flawless customer service smile regardless of your discomfort, thinking he hadn't done anything wrong yet. “of cou-”

“[name], there's something odd about the hand mixer,” kazuha cuts in, peeking through the door and knocking on the wood to gain your attention. “could you check it for me? i'll switch with you.”

your expression drifts to one of genuine distress, not picking up on the excuse he provided for an easy way out. you rush to the kitchen and kazuha takes your place, much to the customer's disappointment. this does not not escape his attention and kazuha smiles, “what can i get for you?”

one half-hearted order later, the customer finally leaves. the smile on kazuha's face drops as he picks up the piece of tissue the man left on the counter, scrawled with a set of numbers in dark ink.

“it worked just fine?” you return after checking on the fully functional hand mixer, confusion apparent on your expression. kazuha breezily slips on a smile, crumpling the tissue in his hand and shoving it inside his pocket.

“really? that's great.”

thoma, your childhood friend

once upon a time at the tender age of seven, you had a timid disposition and had few names you could confidently proclaim as your friend. however, thoma was an intelligent child who figured out being friends with a person who owned a bakery entailed sharing snacks with each other at breaks.

lured by the mouthwatering scent of your lunchbox, he approached your desk and initiated a conversation. his friendly demeanor had managed to break you out from your shy shell, and from there on, you began to spend time together, him oh-so-generously offering to walk you home so he could stop by the bakery. his efforts were rewarded when your parents were delighted seeing a new friend of yours, shoving a packet of chocolate cornets in his hands.

...well, that's how it started, but it wasn't like all he wanted from you was free food. he wormed his way into your life, growing close not only to you but also your family; your grandfather was especially fond of him. he even became an unofficial employee of sorts, tidying the bakery when the opportunity arose. your parents spoiled him rotten with sweets in return, them often being the cause of thoma's cavities before you grew up...

speaking of growing up, you long left primary school and now attended different schools, but thoma made it a habit to pick you up and walk home together just as you did often before, leading to misunderstandings of your classmates thinking he was your boyfriend. which couldn't be any more wrong.

but it was true that he was the sole receiver of your valentine's chocolate for a long, long time, something that he prided over. which is also weird, considering he received more than enough chocolate to fill his bag close to bursting each year. (it's special, you remember him telling you once. as to why, he wasn't very keen on informing you, maybe even a little shy about it. is it because you're good at baking? it surpassed other people's attempts at homemade chocolate? it had more meaning compared to storebought chocolate? you can only guess.)

so really, he's astonished when he spots another box of brownies stuffed in your belongings, peculiarly wrapped in a more elaborate manner compared to his bland plastic packaging. heart-patterned in a pale pink, topped with a delicate ribbon trimmed with white lace.

he narrows his eyes, fingers ghosting over the box. “who's this for?”

he gets a whiff of a pleasant scent on you, some perfume your aunt had given you on a holiday. you styled your hair differently that day, too, not a single imperfect crease seen on your clothes, lips glossy with a sheen of tint thoma remembered gifting you as a present before.

your cheeks flush in a rosy color, stuttering out an excuse. an excuse that doesn't register in thoma's head because of the buzzing in his ears, but he doesn't really need to hear it to understand; he'd be a fool not to guess this was for a special someone.

a special someone that isn't him, clearly.

xiao, the classmate you've been crushing on

contrary to popular belief, your infatuation with xiao hadn't been established from the start. you belonged in the same class but you weren't especially interested in him at first glance, staying far, far away from classmates fighting over the seats beside him. he had a pretty face, that much was obvious, and maybe you did stare at him a little longer than you had to... but that was the extent of it, an appreciation for things you found pleasing to the eye.

“the inside matters more than the outside” is a phrase as good as horse shit, empty words used to placate the ugly community. even with unread love letters trashed in garbage bins, succinct replies to heartfelt confessions, and other actions that might be considered rude if it was a less attractive man doing them, xiao remained a desirable prospect as a lover. the world just worked that way. you didn't feel particularly envious of him, but you didn't see him in a positive light either.

and his opinion of you... well. it was less than ideal when he saw you at the supermarket going grocery shopping once; he had only vaguely recognized you as his classmate when the moment you laid eyes on him, you gasped “salt!” and ran towards the aisles containing spice.

(to be fair, he was reminded he needed to buy a comb after seeing your messy hair.)

though as the seasons changed with flowers blooming in warm spring and wilting in bleak winter, underneath all that grouch xiao was pretty nice. it was a matter of his apprehension melting away and your presence growing ever more familiar as days passed. his cold exterior warmed into something sweeter, something far less bitter compared to how he appeared at the beginning.

if it were five months ago, if you were to get yourself injured by accident while preparing a meal in home economics class, he would've frowned and said “did you cut your finger?” “yes.” “don't let your blood mix with the soup.”

if it were in the present, he'd frown all the same but the furrow in his brow would suggest visible concern rather than slight annoyance, taking out teddy bear-patterned bandaids he pretends he doesn't carry all the time for exact situations like these because you weren't good with knives. (baking is different from cooking, damn it.) his hands would be frustratingly gentle as he wraps your cut finger, and the soft tenderness that always graced his actions towards people he cared about was more than enough to make you fall hard.

then you remembered your mother's teachings. “the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

the thing is, nobody at your school knew your family ran a bakery. it wasn't something you actively tried to hide, it just never came up at conversations. if you were to act as a romantic “secret admirer” and send baked goods to test xiao's reaction before confessing, you'd at least get an estimation of your chance at success of snagging a hot boyfriend. that has to earn you extra points for bribery creativity, right?

so. that's how xiao came to receive colorful bite-sized macarons, cream puffs piped with custard, glazed cinnamon rolls, and anything of the sort packaged neatly in boxes sent anonymously every few days. the notes greeting him good morning or wishing him luck for a test later that day are all printed, hence not giving away the sender's identity by their handwriting.

as much as xiao appreciates the gesture, however, he also looks guilty. when you ask him why, heart pounding in your chest, he flushes red at your eager expression and quietly admits, “i already have someone i like.”

childe, a troublesome customer

from your numerous years working at the cafe, you've seen a lot of things: the anticipation and nervousness in blind dates, the endearing awkwardness of first dates, the sweet thoughtfulness of friends and family buying snacks for a certain someone, and —

the entire shop broke into collective gasps as the cup of coffee was thrusted towards across the table, splashing the boy seated in that direction. he seemed astonished, pristine white shirt soaked in a muddy brown, and the girl accompanying him made a point to place the now empty glass loudly against the table. “you're the absolute worst!” she seethed, tears rolling down her cheeks. she left in fury, leaving without waiting for a response.

...break ups. not the most common, but they definitely happen. they're mostly not this dramatic though.

the boy left behind attempted a smile. albeit strained, it was enough to stop the other patrons from looking at the spectacle. kazuha seemed hesitant to deal with it, so it was up to you to approach him with a towel. he looked a bit pitiful cleaning his face with tissues. “are you... okay?” you winced at your own question and amended with, “do you have anything else you need?”

he laughed. “i'll have to trouble you to mop this mess on the floor, but i'm alright. thanks.”

you nodded. not one to pry or meddle in someone else's relationship, you only went to do what you had to, mopping the coffee staining the ground. before the boy left, you noticed he left a generous tip.

you couldn't help thinking of him as that one guy who got dumped each time he visited the cafe though. but he never went with his (ex-)girlfriend ever again, only sometimes bringing along what you presumed were his younger siblings. he spoiled them, too, unrestrained as he pulled out his wallet and paid for a large amount of treats his brother and sister wanted to try.

and because he's a treasured benefactor, you thought it would be nice if you showed your appreciation somehow. you handed him a bag of pastries he hadn't asked for, to which he tilted his head in question.

“they're on the house,” you said. “new products. we're experimenting and haven't sold them yet. it would be helpful if you gave your opinion for them.”

he peeked at the contents, seeing they were muffins amongst other things. “thank you. i'll make sure to tell you my thoughts, though i'm already certain they'll be as delicious as everything else here.” he smiled.

it was simple as that. no entanglements that linked you in a personal level, but he found himself gravitating towards the cafe whenever he had free time to be idle. he didn't even eat what he bought most of the time, giving them away to his friends, aside from the time you personally gave him that bag of pastries yourself. he didn't even let his siblings touch them.

and maybe it didn't have to be so complicated. he was striving to find love all this time, only for each relationship to run dry quickly. it was always him not being enough, not paying his lovers enough attention, not giving them enough affection. what he thought was love didn't last for very long.

but maybe this could be. keeping it secret in his heart, quiet appreciation for the dazzling person behind the counter, nurturing the small crush that would only remain small if he didn't act upon it.

“could you try this for me?” you request, offering him a batch of brownies. you seem... shy. bashful. it's a new look. childe certainly have never seen you blush before.

he takes a bite and it's exquisite. “it tastes good. are you going to sell this too?”

“ah, no.” the tips of your ears redden further. “i'm... making them for someone.”

it is then when childe remembers valentine's day is approaching. it is then that he realizes, his heart sinking in disappointment. “oh. okay.”

albedo, the eye-candy regular

people-watching is a habit you pick up on when the clock is beyond hectic morning hours, the cafe that once bustled with cranky swarms of patrons demanding their daily dose of coffee emptying to something that lets you breathe more freely, frenzied atmosphere gradually settling into calm.

in the moments of respite, you find yourself fanning your face, having enough leisure to rest instead of frantically memorizing orders. that's when your gaze steers to the customers residing by the tables, enjoying snacks and sipping on their beverages. one specific customer catches your eye, and surely you aren't the only one who's unwittingly beckoned over by his charms.

beams of sunshine blanket around him in a soft glow, light brown hair almost gold in the bright rays. teal eyes are glued to the paper in front of him, hands smoothing over the surface as the pencil in his deft fingers glide in elegant strokes. his pink lips part when he brings the cup of cappuccino to his mouth, taking small sips and his tongue darts out to catch the foam-

...or so the girl near his table types furiously on her laptop, perhaps taking him as inspiration for a novel she's writing. good for her.

in any case, the face is a familiar one. you have no name to attach to his face, so you began dubbing him as “jeff”. for no particular reason. it's quite inconvenient to refer to him as “handsome window seat dude” all the time. unfortunately, the cafe has coaster pagers and there isn't any need to ask for customers' names so his name remains a mystery. jeff it is.

so “jeff” frequents the cafe during late morning, always bringing a new book with him or a sketchbook to while away the time. not that you see anything he draws. the most you see is other customers interrupting him in the middle of it, either to flirt with him or straightforwardly ask for his number. for politeness's sake, he makes an effort to not let his irritation show, but seeing the subtle shifts in his expressions over the course of several months has allowed you to notice the minute changes in his mood. (were you really staring that hard? or it's just a talent. you can't take xiao's words at face-value because he's a goddamned tsundere so now you've honed a talent for reading people.)

so it comes off as a shock when he strolls to the cafe visibly cross, exasperation rolling off him in waves. dark circles line his eyes, a crinkle in his brows hinting displeasure. fatigue emanates from his very being, and in spite of his impeccable appearance in the past in comparison to the zombies you have as customers before they get their desired caffeine, he doesn't look too different now.

even worse, when he finds his pockets empty without his wallet and he only manages a few coins in the deepest corners of his bag to afford the most bland item in the menu, he looks vaguely murderous.

you cough, driven to help since his expression makes you think your days are numbered if he doesn't get his coffee soon. “i can pay for you this time,” you offer. he stiffens, grateful but tentative. “it's no big deal.” you even slip in a plate of waffles as extra, topped with generous swirls of whipped cream and cut fruit.

“thanks, i'm... not myself today. stayed up all night,” he mumbles, adjusting his backpack strap where it's falling off his shoulders, heavy with textbooks he has to study. “i'll pay you back tomorrow... but i don't need the waffles, really.”

a couple bucks isn't much of a loss and you're not that much of a cheapskate. “it's alright. the waffles aren't even on the menu, it's just breakfast i made.”

“oh.” he seems mildly surprised at that. “...thanks.”

you push the brewed coffee in his direction when it's done, grinning at him. “have a good morning then, jeff.”

he gives you a weird look. “my name is albedo.”

“it's a trick. i wanted to find out your name.”

he blinks, still processing what you said. then for the first time that morning, albedo smiles.

(much much later when kazuha's cleaning the cafe, he finds a worn notebook placed on one of the empty tables. he doesn't like poking his nose into things he doesn't own, but in the hopes of finding the owner's name somewhere, he peruses through the pages of scrawls and doodles and sketches of scenery. he stops at a sketch of a face he knows by heart, surrounded by an embarrassing amount of flowers.)

(kazuha somehow dislikes how he instantly knows who it belongs to.)

scaramouche, a stray looking for shelter

scaramouche despises the rain.

especially when his partner for his project bails on him 30 minutes after their agreed meeting time (by text, no less! without a single apology!), and he wasted half an hour in the campus library for absolutely nothing. then 5 minutes after his departure, the sudden downpour takes him by surprise and further sours his sullen mood.

he rushes under the nearest roof he finds for shelter, the rain refusing to let up and only getting stronger by the second. cold winds nip at his skin, causing him to shiver in his partly drenched clothes. he follows the warm yellow light illuminating what he thinks is a coffee shop of sorts, the bell's chime announcing his entrance when he swings the door open.

the place is empty with the exception of one person behind the counter, storing the leftover baskets of pastries in the fridge. you blink, not expecting anyone else to arrive, and you assume you forgot to flip the “open” sign to “closed” again.

you don't have the heart to correct the customer though; he looks remarkably similar to a stray cat caught up in the rain, wet purple hair plastered on his forehead and cheeks and drenched jacket most likely not enough to give him warmth. his sharp eyes narrow and he's scowling, irritated at his stupid partner and this stupid rain and-

“you're closing?” he notices, and you nod. he clicks his tongue, obviously displeased.

“if you're only here for shelter, i can stay until the rain stops?” you suggest. “i closed early because i had to study, but i can study here since i have my textbooks anyway.”

“that...” scaramouche pauses, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed for coming off as rude. “if you're fine with it, then that would be nice... thank you.”

you nod again, ducking behind the storeroom to take care of other equipment, so scaramouche takes it as his cue to sit at one of the tables, brushing back his wet hair from sticking all over his face. when you return, a towel rests in your grip and you offer it to him kindly.

warmth settles in his chest, gratitude filling his heart. it strengthens when you wordlessly push a cup of hot chocolate in his direction before seating in another table, sheets of paper and numerous books haphazardly littered about. the only noise he can hear is the gentle pitter-patter of rain outside and the mindless taps of your fingers against the table as you practice test questions. the intermittent loud flicking of pages in workbooks and constant clicks of your pen should peeve him, bad habits in the library he finds annoying when he's trying to focus on reading, but it's strangely comforting in the otherwise silence shrouding the pair of you.

(he finds himself sneaking glances, unwittingly stealing a peek at the way your nose scrunches up adorably when you come across a tricky question. the way you worry your bottom lip, eyes sweeping over the contents of the workbook. the way a defeated sigh parts your lips, inevitably switching to another question to answer.)

(then he catches himself being a creep so he pinches his thigh to wake himself up.)

less than half an hour later, the drizzle reduces to gray clouds pierced by rays of sunlight. scaramouche prepares to leave, followed by you scrambling to pack your things. in your haste, your bag tips over, revealing a small umbrella. that prompts a prick of guilt to seep in his skin, knowing you could've left much earlier if he didn't hold you back.

“thank you, again,” he can't help but say. you wave him off, insisting it's not a bother.

the next time he visits, it's a week later. an umbrella is tucked by his side, this time, and the rainy season has discouraged people from coming so you're closing early except you don't have anything to shield from precipitation. you lent kazuha your umbrella when he ended his shift because you thought the rain would come to pass after an hour or so, and it... hadn't.

scaramouche peers inside, the sign still displaying “open” but you're storing away things just like last time. the cursory “sorry, we're already closing for the day” sticks to your throat when you realize who arrives.

“are you staying because of the rain?” you comment, sympathetic. he shakes his head.

“no, but...” scaramouche coughs awkwardly. “i could help walk you to the bus station... or wherever you're going, really. to return the favor.”

his courage exhausted, he's barely able to find the bravery to check your reaction. he stills when you smile at him so brightly.

it was worth his dignity then.

ayato, the friend of a friend

it starts horribly, a stain on your first impression that you can never redeem.

in your defense, it isn't intentional, except it kind of is — you didn't notice the boy with pale blue hair trailing after thoma when they arrived at the bakery, so you engage in your usual light-hearted banter while he walks away to wait at the table. shame was never felt between two friends who've seen both the best and worst of each other, so crass jokes and ill-timed quips are the norm.

hence why you unabashedly draw dicks on thoma's coffee cup sleeve when he pisses you off with some offhand comment followed by a stinging pinch to your cheek, unafraid of the consequences from the small payback.

except it isn't thoma's coffee after all, and ayato is understandbly confused when he spots phallic doodles on his coffee cup.

he should be affronted, angry and disturbed by the childish display and utter lack of professionalism from staff, but instead he laughs good-naturedly as you explain the situation in ashamed stutters heavily sprinkled with apologies.

so yes. you have positively fucked up your first impression in front of a scholarly young man by behaving in the most disgraceful of manners. he must've thought you an idiot lacking all sense of propriety... and a loser who still thinks drawing dicks is funny.

as it turns out, ayato hails from a stinking rich family who isn't quite in touch with a normal person's lifestyle. his life has always been a constant stream of studies and networking, his future laid out for him. he had little time for leisure and friends outside of allies and business partners, and his story of bonding with thoma would be a lot more moving if you weren't anxiously looking at the inappropriate phallic figures artfully drawn on ayato's cup sleeve that he still hasn't removed. it is a jarring sight to see a boy with a regal disposition fitting for royalty holding such a thing in a way that would make you think he was drinking aged fine wine from a treasured goblet.

part of you thinks he might be doing it on purpose, if only to amuse himself peering at your expressions of panic. he likes to pose himself as innocent but as time ticks by the longer you spend time with him, the more you think he may not necessarily be as much of a goody-two-shoes he acts to be. the sadistic streak is worrying and you're beginning to remember thoma's earlier complaints about a certain mischievous friend of his who likes to play tricks on him.

anyway, the point is: he's stinking rich, he's a sheltered young master, and he's trying out new things he has never experienced before. one of them is trying “peasant food”.

“our humble business doesn't have a single michelin star so i fear we won't be able to satisfy your palate,” you say, looking at ayato who's poking at the egg tart experimentally. “...maybe it would do you good to eat somewhere else?”

“he was impressed by the existence of instant noodles,” thoma supplies. “i don't think he's very picky.”

“the price tag doesn't guarantee tasteful flavors,” ayato chuckles. “but i liked the sweets thoma gave to me the other day. what were they called?”

“petit fours?”

“you gave him those petit fours i was still experimenting with for valentine's day?!” you whisper-shout in disbelief. thoma holds up his hands in surrender.

“they were very enjoyable. i'm sure other customers would like them as well,” ayato confesses honestly.

flattery won't get you anywhere, you want to say. but the conversation escalates in that direction. time passes by too quickly and before you realize it, the sun is already setting and they've been chatting with you on the counter the entire time.

ayato tells you he best return home for the day, if only a little unwilling to go. “though i am hoping what i find on the cup sleeve in my next visit would be different,” he teases.

you're actually not supposed to write anything on the cup in normal circumstances, but you decide to humor him. treasured benefactor and all. you know he has deep pockets. “...such as?” you cock up an eyebrow in question.

“something that will help us grow closer, perhaps.” he leaves with those cryptic words, thoma not far behind.

??? something that will help you grow closer??? he wants to be friends??? what kind of thing does he want you to write?

(the next time, to his satisfaction, he finds your number written on his cup sleeve.)

(it's unfortunate you misunderstood his intentions. ayato would hardly be this forward if he just wanted a friend.)

Way Back Home

Previous part~

Relationships: Separate!GenshinCharacters x gn!Reader Characters: Xiao, Childe, Scaramouche Genre: Fluff and Crack Comfort Warnings: Just Spain without the a

Song: SHAUN feat. Conor Maynard - Way Back Home

Author’s Notes: For once in my life, I am here to serve you with a well deserved fluff.

Summary: You will always find your way back home.

Xiao

He mistook your tiredness as the need to leave. Little did he know, you were anxious to go back.

But you had to go back, because you had never said your goodbyes to your family back in the other world.

Other, because that world was no longer your home. You found comfort in Liyue, and it had the person you wish to build a home with.

Xiao can no longer feel you. You had finally left this world with the Traveler. He felt lost yet secretly hoping you would come back.

Oh boy, every night he takes time to search for your voice, uttering your name softly hoping you would respond with his. Then one night, you did.

Xiao had been used to being alone for a very long time until you came into his life. But now that you’re gone he mostly reminisce about your touch and your overall presence. He had sworn to himself that you would always have a place in his heart until the end of time.

Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t push these feelings away. He would replay your memory with him over and over again so he doesn’t forget about you. You had only been gone for a year, and he was already losing himself to the memory.

Like always, one night is all it took. He sat on his usual spot where he would gaze upon the stars, wishing and hoping for something. Was he ready to let you go?

Your name slips past his lips longing for an answer. Then suddenly he hears you call out to him, the same voice, the same voice he loves and will always love.

Ah yes, even the stars are messing with him now. “Xiao, I’m home.” Yeah right, home. He wasn’t your home- He must be hallucinating. Is his karmic debt finally engulfing him whole?

Laughing to himself, he felt his chest tighten. What if he does follow the voice and you weren’t there? But Xiao could care less anymore, hallucination or not…what if it was truly you?

This man found himself back at the Wangshu Inn, is his mind really messing with him? Xiao doesn’t take things slow, but for once in his life every step he took was heavy and he wouldn’t dare teleport his way through the top. He needed time to prepare himself after all.

You on the other hand were standing at the edge of the Inn’s balcony, fiddling with your fingers looking like a mess. Xiao would definitely come, right? All you had to do was call out his name, right? Is he mad at you?

You were exhausted, who new world traveling would suck your soul out down and over? It doesn’t matter, at least you are back even though it felt like you got ran over by a truck.

Xiao might have taken his sweet time up the stairs, but the moment he saw your figure though the door. You wouldn’t believe how fast he sprinted his way to you. He knew it was really you, he can feel it, he can finally feel you. “You’re here-” He could only mutter softly, holding you like you would fly away any second. “I’m finally home.” Celestia above, he will never let you pull that shit again-

Childe

Why wait for the next life when you’re already rummaging your way through his office? This man’s office had been a mess for these past 6 months.

You had only come back, and the thing that welcomes you is hell. It looks like a hurricane ran over this place, and you could only sigh to yourself.

You arrived early this morning when he had already left. Nowadays he would spend a lot of time outside, taking up every mission he can get his hands on.

At night he would spend time doing paperwork and thrashing his office. That would explain the mess this room has to offer.

You may or may not have bribed his secretary and fixed the place up by yourself. You might as well do this after the whole shit you pulled.

Childe might have wished you the best, but he wasn’t doing the best on his own. He had gotten more frustrated every passing day.

Even the other harbingers wouldn’t dare touch that subject with a 10 feet pole. They might lose a limb or two if they try.

Childe hadn’t been sleeping well either, he didn’t want to wake up disappointed without you beside him.

The feeling was intoxicating and heavy, he doesn’t know how long it would take for him to move on. Does he even wish to move on? Forget about you? Hell no. Weaponized trauma, that’s what he is good about.

Making his way through the office, he cannot wait to cry himself to sleep and just do what needs to be done. The amount of paperwork he has to do though might distract him away from the crying.

Scratch that, you might distract him away from all that. The moment he steps foot in that dreadful office of his, he saw you slumped on his chair asleep.

Yeah right, that is a definite hallucination. He doesn’t even think you are an intruder. He only sighed to himself, too tired to bother.

He felt a tug in his chest though, sweaty palms and all the glory. He was spiraling and may or may not be panicking.

He made his way to your side, trembling with every step. He basically welcomes your presence by poking you. He pokes you for a few times, still panicking when he can actually feel you.

You woke up to him standing there, bent over and poking you. “Ajax, what the hell?” Don’t mind the man if he basically launched himself far to the corner of the room.

“Ajax, what the hell are you doing?” You raised you head, looking at him in disbelief. “Y/N?”

“Your place was a mess so I cleaned it-” You responded back with a yawn. Childe didn’t let you go after that.

That entire night, He might have cried in your arms. He cannot believe that you decided to clean this place up the moment you get back. Like of all things, why his office? You’re unbelievable.

Scaramouche

He forgot that you would always tell him Goodbyes does not mean forever. That goodbyes for you are promises to come back.

He was just used to being left alone that he quickly disregarded your words thinking that you really did leave him completely.

Please for the love of everyone that are dead and alive, you quickly went back as fast as you can. You knew Scara wouldn’t last years.

You had only been gone for 3 months, just 3 months. Now you’re here wrapped around his arms. He hadn’t let you go for 5 hours already. Yes, you counted.

Scaramouche might wear a cold exterior outside his comfort, but when it comes to you he gets unbelievably clingy.

It took him a long time to be comfortable like this though, when you were just starting out he would flinch with every touch.

You knew he was touch starved, but also in fear of abandonment. You both took time to make him appreciate himself more as a person rather than a hollow puppet with predetermined existence.

You regret leaving him even just for a second, that’s why you forced your way back between worlds. You were exhausted, but you knew Scara wouldn’t let go.

You don’t mind, you missed him after all. Little did he know, you may or may not have injured yourself with your forced travels through a wormhole. He only realized this when he hugged you a little too tight, and you went oomph for a second.

“Ah scara, be a little gentle. I think I broke a rib through-” “ Excuse me what the fuck do you mean you broke a rib!?” Ah man, this is going to be a long night. But at least you’re back, right?

Author’s Notes: Albedo’s prompt would be separate because I feel like I owe you people that much.