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impala-dreamer · 4 months

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Wicked Desire

A Supernatural Story

~There's never any promise in a one-night-stand, never any certainty when you catch a stranger's eye. It's dangerous, but there was never any question when Dean asked you to join him for a drink...~

Demon!Dean x Reader

1173 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Facial Fucking and Blow Jobs and Oh my.

A/N: This was a TMA ask that I just rolled with...

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

There’s too much tequila in your system and your body is tingling, limp and pliant. There’s absolutely no resistance when he shoves two thick fingers between your lips, no hesitation when he utters a command.

“Suck.”

Your tongue undulates against the pads of his fore and middle fingers and your mouth floods with saliva. You moan as he juts his fingers deeper inside. He wants to hear it, feel your throat contract around his digits, feel your lips block him from crawling fully inside.

“So fuckin’ sexy, sweetheart,” he coos, but there’s no love behind his words. There’s no praise either. It’s almost as if he’s telling himself and not you. You could be anyone, anything; just a bunch of well lubricated holes and he wouldn’t care.

Your eyes flutter closed when he pushes in deeper and your body protests as he skirts the very back of your throat. A lurching gag jerks you forward but he goes nowhere, enjoying the tears that leek out around your lashes.

“Knew I picked a good one.”

His laugh is cold and deep and somehow makes you melt a little more. You can feel yourself dripping, the heat pooling between your thighs, soaking into the thin black panties you’re wearing. Your knees are dug deep into the cheap roadhouse carpet and your thighs are burning from the pose, but he doesn’t seem to want to move, to change it up. He just wants to test your reflexes, your desire.

You look up and he’s grinning down at you, a devilish smirk that makes your heart race. He’s pure danger and absolute sex. There’s something so raw and hungry lurking beneath that beautiful freckled face and you want to know it, to feel it.

It also terrifies you.

There was too much confidence in the way he came at you in the bar, so sure he had you without even saying a word. Without warning, he’d sauntered up next to you, slapped a fifty down on the bar and flashed a smile that nearly knocked you off your feet.

The look of him, the heat pulsing off of his hand as it slid onto your thigh, the smell of him- musky and smoky with a hint of cinnamon- it was intoxicating. He had you hooked before he’d said a word.

“I’m Dean…”

You were lost in his eyes, addicted to the smooth tone of his voice. There was nothing he could ask for that you’d deny, nothing he could attempt that you’d pull away from.

When his fingers slide from your lips, you let out such a pathetic moan that it shocks you. You rock forward on your knees, mouth hung open and drooling, reaching for him again.

“Please…”

He looks down, shadowed chin dipping close to your face. He grabs your cheeks in one big hand, squeezing the hollows inward.

“How fuckin’ lucky am I? Picked up such a willing little slut and all it cost me was a few rounds.” His tongue juts out, thick and pink, and he licks at your puckered lips, teasing, tasting. “Awesome.”

He grins again and you swear his eyes change colors. The green vanishes and black appears, soaking through everything like an acid rain. Your body recoils, your breath catches hard, but he’s got you, his fingers tightening, blunt nails digging into your cheeks.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, laughter on the end of each word. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.” He licks his lips slowly and the green returns. “Not unless you ask, of course.”

His wink is insane and stunning and you nearly fall over when he releases his hold. He catches you with a strong hand at the base of your skull, pulling you back to center. He holds you there, fingers splayed across the back of your head as his free hand takes care of his zipper.

His jeans slink down, stopped by the top of his boots and he tugs his boxers from his hips. His cock is long but only half hard and he presents it with a slow thrust forward.

Your gaze settles in the cut of his thighs, those deep v lines that bring you right to his gorgeous cock. Hungry, you flash your eyes upward and pucker your already puffy lips.

“You don’t gotta wait for an invitation,” he jokes. “Have at it…”

He’s thick and deliciously warm. Salty tang floods your mouth as you take him in, lapping at his length with the tip of your tongue. You seal your lips tight around him and he moans, the sound is so beautiful, so deadly and erotic that all you can think about is doing it again.

Deeper and deeper you go until your nose is against him, until your breath is weak and your lips aching.

Dean keeps his fingers locked in your hair, guiding your rhythm, forcing you to keep going when your throat nearly closes. His moans are like a magic spell weaving through your head and blocking everything else out.

“Just like that… Fuck!”

You grab at his hips, holding yourself to him as he takes over, thrusting when he can’t hold back anymore. His cock throbs on your tongue and his pleasure seems to wash through you. Your nipples tighten, your clit pulses.

So wicked, you think, that he’s turned your mouth into a sloppy cunt just like that. It was so easy… all it took was a few shots and a brilliant smile.

Dean picks up his pace, jerking his hips almost painfully into your face. You hold your breath and suck hard, knowing he’s close but praying he lasts. Your pussy is throbbing so hard that it hurts, the wetness leaking down your thighs. You need him to pull away, grab you up and slam you into the wall, fuck you until there’s no more you. You need him to break you, to make you cum so hard you can’t remember your name, your own face, your sense of self.

Your lungs are burning when he cums and you suck in a shaky breath as he coats your tongue. Too surprised to think, a bit squeaks out of the corner of your mouth and you slurp it back in, swallowing him down with a moan.

Hand still locked on the back of your head, Dean thrusts in deep once more and holds you there, loving the feel of your throat constricting around him. He softens slowly and groans out a lazy sigh.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart…”

He backs away and you teeter on your knees, falling forward onto the ugly carpet.

“You got some skill, I’ll give you that.”

He buttons up before you can reach him, crawling like a bitch in heat on your hands and knees. You wait at his feet, still aching and horny.

“But--”

He looks down and sucks his teeth, huffs out a curt laugh. “I’ll getcha next time.”

He’s gone before you can scramble to your feet, leaving you with nothing but a wink and an empty promise.

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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#demon dean #dean x reader #spn fanfic #dean winchester x reader #demon!dean #one shot

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ceruleancattail · 5 months

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Some yandere Floyd Bartender thoughts…

thank you @gyarunie for listening to my deranged discord rambles-

Tw: yandere, forced alcohol consumption

Floyd’s damn near toppling over the counter in his haste to greet you. Hands fumbling around, yanking your coat off your shoulders. It’s quickly tossed aside,dangling off one of the coat hanger’s hooks. Swaying from the left to the right, a clock’s pendulum.

Counting down to your doom.

His touch still lingers, long after your coat is gone. Fingers curling around your arms, wrapping around them tightly. Floyd always had a good grip, but this felt a little too firm to be anything friendly.

His chin digs into your shoulder, bone jutting against bone. You could hear his every word, whined against your ear. Almost like a petulant child, possessive of his favourite toy.

Hey, shrimpy… he missed you, y’know?

It’s been so long since you’ve stepped into his bar….

Floyd pouts and grumbles for a good long while, nuzzling closer with every word. You open your mouth, a string of excuses dancing on the very tip of your tongue. Yet before you could even say a word, his voice drops. Like a block of concrete, plunged into the depths of the deep, cold sea.

“Where have you been?”

Hey, why won’t you tell him? You weren’t at some other bar, were ya? There’s a bunch of shady guys all over town… and didn’t Floyd say you’ll be safer in here?

With him?

It seems that you aren’t truly aware of the danger that awaits you. A little shrimp drinking through the night, all alone. Hell, anyone could have their way with you, if they wanted to.

Here, he’ll prove it.

Just like that, his grip turned to steel. Fingers pressed deep into your flesh, scarlet welts blooming all over your arm. You could feel your heart sink down into the depths of your stomach, its contents already churning uneasily.

With you tightly in his grasp, Floyd’s dragging you towards the bar’s counter. Tossing you effortlessly onto a stool; not giving two hoots if you wince from the pain. His foot plants itself into the stool’s leg, kicking it forward. Letting your knees knock against the counter, the very edge of that smooth surface kneeing you in the gut.

You could feel his fingers running through your hair, seizing a few locks before yanking your head upwards. Forcing you to tilt back, baring your neck to him. A sign of submission, in the animal world.

Forced out of you, like the trembling prey you were.

Floyd wastes no time questioning you, his mismatched pupils even more eerie in the pale light.

So what place have you been frequenting, huh? Do they serve better drinks then him? Are they sooo much more nicer then Floyd?

Shoving you brashly, Floyd has your chin banging against the counter as he stretches over your form. Chest pressing against your back, his manic heartbeat pounding into your body. All you could feel was the cold. His touch froze your very soul, translucent frost creeping over every corner of your flesh.

From the corner of your eye, you could see a bottle of some sort in Floyd’s hand. The words on the label dancing around in your blurry vision. Some spirit or another, but definitely not the one you usually order.

Floyd leans over you, meeting your eyes. The ghost of a smirk danced around his lips, razor-sharp canines peeking out in a smile. A smile so sinister that it could only be described as deranged.

You two share that moment of silence, your lips desperately parting. The start of a plea perhaps? Begging for Floyd to just let you go, to just release his hold on you, to just let you god-damn breathe for one second-

Before you could even muster up one word, Floyd’s forcing the nozzle into your mouth. Tipping the bottle over, letting its contents surge into your throat like a fire hose on full blast. The alcohol sting your throat, burnt every single nook and cranny it could reach. The bitterness making you splutter and gag. The mere strength of it so much more than what you would trust yourself to take-

Despite your frenzied movements, Floyd only laughs in glee. Tipping the bottle further, forcing everything down your throat.

Better drink it all up, Shrimpy!

Don’t you dare spill a single drop.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere floyd x reader #yandere floyd leech x reader #yandere floyd #yandere floyd leech #Floyd x reader #Floyd #Floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #protection potion♦️

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tsunami-of-tears · 14 days

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Iris

Azriel x Rhys’s Sister Reader

Summary: Reader has been struggling with her inner demons ever since her brother went Under The Mountain.

A/N: This is really dark. Please, please read the warnings before clicking read more.

To preface: I’m okay, just tired and was pre-menstrual when I started this. I haven’t been in this dark of a place in a very long time, but I wanted to write this for 15-year-old Shelby who thought no one saw her. I haven’t talked about my history of self-harm much and it’s hard to reopen those wounds, but it’s therapeutic.

If anyone is struggling, my inbox is always open. I’ve also included a few resources at the end of this fic.

Wordcount: 1.2K

Warnings: ANGST!!; major depression; disordered eating (binging); graphic self-harm; Rhys UTM

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

Reader

Things were bad.

Really bad.

You had completely withdrawn from your family in the months since Rhys had gone Under The Mountain.

Rhys - your idiot older brother - had sacrificed himself to protect you and your people; leaving you in charge of his court.

Ruling had always come easy to him, he was born to do it whereas you struggled to switch between the required masks.

These days, the only mask you wore was one of cold indifference.

As the shield fell into place around Velaris, trapping you inside, a wall of adamant rose around you, keeping everyone around from seeing the war raging inside your mind.

Most of your time was spent in your bedroom with the curtains drawn, unable to look at the sleeping city below your window.

Velaris, the city of Starlight, had lost its sparkle.

The first week after Rhys left, not a single light could be seen. The once lustrous city had gone into mourning. The Sidra, usually glimmering like liquid night, now reflected only the deepest black.

You only dared to leave your room during the night when you were less likely to be spotted, not wanting anyone to see the ghost you’d become.

You float down the stone hallway, robes billowing as you walk to the kitchen.

You’d taken to eating late at night. Food, usually sweets, was the only comfort you could find.

You’re rummaging in the larder when you feel a familiar sensation around your bare ankles, the cold shadow wisping over your skin.

“Y/N,” you hear a deep voice say behind you.

You turn, blocks of chocolate in hand, to face the one person you love more than your brother.

��Azriel,” you reply, taking in his appearance.

He looked terrible.

His hair was dishevelled, his jet-black curls in dire need of a comb, and his once warm hazel eyes were dull and bloodshot. Beneath them were deep violet bruises, clearly he wasn’t sleeping much.

You can feel his gaze on you, and wonder what he thought of the shadow of life you’d become.

You watch his nostrils flare. “Y/N, are you hurt? I can smell blood.”

You feign a laugh, “I’m on my cycle.” You hold up the chocolate as evidence. “Cravings.”

Azriel narrows his eyes but doesn’t push you. “I… We miss you,” he says.

You turn away from him, unable to voice how broken you feel.

“Please, I can’t lose you too,” he pleads.

“Goodnight Azriel,” you whisper, slipping out the door into the dark hallway.

Neither Azriel nor his shadows follow you.

————

You step out of the shower and stand in front of the bathroom mirror, scrutinising your reflection.

You pinch at the skin on your hips and stomach, scowling at the growing curves, before turning to the side to inspect your full breasts and butt.

Facing forward again, your eyes fall upon the ladders of scars across your thighs and forearms.

Angry red and purple lines jutting between faint silver.

You started again after losing Rhys. You hadn’t done it since losing your mother. It was the only way you knew to reflect your inner turmoil.

The day your mother was killed, you were meant to be with her. You should’ve been taken too.

Rhys had helped you out of the pit of despair that time, but he was no longer here. Once again, you were saved while your loved ones were not.

You towel off your skin before sitting down at your vanity. You pull out an ornate jewellery box and retrieve the ash dagger stashed inside.

You weren’t sure why you harmed yourself. There was a part of you that felt you deserved it, that thought you were a wretch for allowing your brother to endure all that torment for you. Then there was a part that just wanted to feel something other than the numbness that ached to your core.

You press the dagger against your skin. Not even the sting of the blade made you cry anymore. Your tears had long since dried up.

With each slice, your self-hatred rings in your ears.

Stupid – cut.

Useless – cut.

Waste of space – cut.

You set the bloodied dagger down on the counter, feeling nothing but apathy.

Morning starts to creep in when you finally make it to bed. As you lay there, staring at the ceiling, the little voice inside your head sneers at you.

This was the life your brother sacrificed his for? Pathetic.

————

Azriel

If Velaris has become a ghost town, the House of Wind was its crypt – haunted by devastation and grief.

Azriel leaned against the balcony railing, looking out on the once-shining city.

How did it all go so wrong?

Not a day had gone by where he didn’t blame himself for everything. For Rhys. For Y/N.

Y/N. He could see the pain in her eyes. She tried to hide it, but Azriel knew better. He’d always been the one who could see through her masks.

Azriel is pulled from his thoughts by his shadows, swarming around him in distress.

“Y/N. Kitchen. Now.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Azriel tells them.

“She’s hurt.”

Azriel winnows into the hallway, allowing his footsteps to be heard outside the door. He turns into the room and spots Y/N searching through the freezer.

She slams it shut, jumping as she turns towards Azriel.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here,” she says. “We’re out of ice cream.” Y/N tries to step around Azriel but he blocks her path with his wing. He looks her over, not able to see anything visibly wrong.

“I’ll get you some more, just please come to dinner,” Azriel pleads. “Or we can go flying together, anything you want. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

Y/N shakes her head, looking at the floor.

“He wouldn’t want you hiding away like this,” Azriel says.

“I don’t care what he would want. He obviously can’t think clearly or else he wouldn’t have left,” she seethes, pushing past Azriel.

Azriel grabs her by the wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “Please Y/N, you’ve…” he trails off, feeling something lumpy under her sleeve. “What is that?”

Y/N tries to yank her arm back but Azriel’s grip is firm.

“Let me see,” Azriel says quietly. Tears start to fall from her eyes as he gently lifts her sleeve, revealing the bloodied bandages. “Oh darling, what happened?”

Y/N just shakes her head.

“Can I have a look?” he asks.

She bites down on her trembling lip, tears flowing freely

Azriel carefully unwinds the bandages revealing the stark, straight lines. His chest aches for her; as if the scars were etched into his heart.

Azriel always cared deeply for Y/N, offering her a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on whenever she needed it. A small part of him felt hurt that she hadn’t confided in him.

He swallowed his pain, it didn’t matter. He was here now.

“Come here,” Azriel wraps his arms around her, stroking Y/N’s hair softly as she sobs in his arms.

Azriel knew she was struggling, everyone could see it. But no one realised just how much losing Rhys broke her.

Azriel curses himself.

He should’ve known. After her parents, Rhys was all she had.

No that’s not true - she had Cassian. And Mor. And Amren…

And him.

And he wasn’t letting her go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ

Mental Health Resources*: If you’re in immediate danger please call your country’s emergency number. Australia: Beyond Blue: https://www.beyondblue.org.au/ Mental Health Hotline: 1800 011 511 Lifeline: 13 11 14 USA: Crisis Line (call or text): 988 UK: Lifeline: 0808 808 8000 *If I have gotten anything wrong or if you have other resources to add, please let me know ❤️

#azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar angst

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catscidr · 3 months

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i wasn't going to post this but like ...... why not lmaoa. purely self indulgent because this happened to me earlier and i Craved dottore fluff. yk. when the comfort character is an objectively very bad person but u still want them to Comfort u....……… yeahhh (;￣ー￣川 ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: not proofread, written while i was still winded lowkey so sry if the grammar is goofy, fluff, implied fighting/training, some gross and icky descriptions of what it feels like to hyperventilate/struggling to breathe. reader does martial arts includes: gn reader, dottore wc: 750 (shortest post yet …. )

It was hard to breathe. Anytime you inhaled it felt like you were choking on nothing, tears stung your eyes as your chest heaved in and out in a futile attempt to get air to fill your lungs. The more you tried the worse your state became; as you inhale through your mouth you sniffle, snot blocking your sinuses from the urge to cry.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Sob.

Your skin started to feel prickly, as if a colony of fire ants decided to make the space between your fat and skin their new home. With a head weighing what felt like a ton, you lean forward to heave. Strands of frizzy, sweaty hair falls forward to hide your face from whoever would want to take a look at your pitiful form on the ground. Tears slide down your cheeks, a dam broken by the absence of oxygen in your body.

“Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth. Deep breaths.” You feel a hand on your back, light and warm. The voice felt distant but still brought you comfort as you push through the gross sound of your mucus-filled nose and inhale as slowly and deeply as you can through your nose as per his directions.

He removes his hand from your back. You hear the quiet sound of boots shuffling and not long after, you feel him crouch in front of you. Gloved hands come up to your pain-stricken face, tilting your head up to straighten your posture ever so slightly. “Breathe slowly,” he reminds you, voice a tad quieter than before, easing you into being able to breathe normally again.

You suddenly feel self-conscious even as you’re clearly in distress- the urge to cover yourself, to wipe your nose and clean up whatever was out of place on your person to make yourself look presentable- to appear as if you weren’t, quite literally, hyperventilating and on the verge of a panic attack. His keen eyes catch the way you try to shut your mouth and he juts his index right on the edge of your bottom lip in a silent threat. Obeying wordlessly, you give up trying to make yourself look proper and crack your eyes open to take a look at the doctor.

Though your eyesight was blurry from the blobs of tears blocking the way, you could still clearly see Dottore’s signature mask (at this point you could probably recognize it even from several meters away) and a wave of calm washes over you.

Still heaving harshly, the tears rolling down your cheeks go from being born from pain to being brought out from exhaustion. You shut your eyes, sniffling as your breathing eventually evens out, hands weakly tugging at your keikogi while your nails make dents into the skin underneath it.

“You’re not supposed to let your anger control you when you spar,” he scoffs lightly. “This is what happens when you do.” Although his words were harsh, the tone he used was nothing but. Anyone else would turn away from him, but you knew better. Having the Second Harbinger comfort someone through a moment like this was unheard of- unless that someone was you.

“I… ‘m sorry,” you mumble quietly, throat hoarse and stuffy from the last… however long you’ve been sitting on the dusty training room floor. He hushes you with an index to your lips and brings his hand down to rest on top of yours, frown seemingly permanently etched onto his face. “Did I do good, at least?” you ask with a crooked smile that immediately fades once your mouth stops moving.

He hums, running his other hand through your hair to brush back any locks that had made their way back in front of your face again. “That’s for you to figure out,” he says blankly, words void of comfort (though his actions say otherwise).

That answer was good enough for you. You let him caress you (awkwardly, since he wasn’t the most affectionate man, but it was better than nothing) as you keep inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth. You hear the sound of people sparring just a mere few meters away, but none dare approach you, far too intimidated by the man in front of you. Carrying on their training as if this was a normal occurrence, you bask in the small amount of comfort he brought you. Your chest still hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to get some tissues to blow your nose, but Dottore’s gentle hand on going back and forth on your head was enough for now.

#dottore x reader #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #il dottore x you #il dottore x reader #dottore x gn reader #il dottore x gn reader #il dottore x y/n #୧ ‧₊˚cat's work!

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violetsiren90 · 10 months

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What the Moon Saw

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader

Genre: One-shot; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; young love; summer nights, angst/fluff/smut

Summary: Having been with each other through thick and thin, you and your childhood friend, Yoongi, realize that nobody knows how to say goodbye.

Listen to: "Nobody Knows How to Say Goodbye" by The Lumineers

Drabbles: Stolen Tides; Beacons Ashore

Content Warnings: 18+ (minors dni); allusions to domestic abuse; divorce of parents; cigarette smoking; infidelity (not between main couple); kissing; hickeys; making out; hand jobs; oral sex (female receiving); loss of virginity (female); moments of body insecurity; unprotected sex; cumming inside; cockwarming; characters are ADULTS at the time of their sexual encounter; LOTS of emotions

Author's note: I moved. Like, a block away from the beach, and the views and the vibes have me ALL up in my feels. I wrote this in two nights and then sat on it. I wasn't sure if I was going to post it or just keep it in my heart because parts of it are so personal to me. BUT, here it is. I want to give inspiration credit to @orchidyoonkook , because I will never ever be able to write young love or Yoongi without being influenced by the beauty that is Under the Willow Tree. 💕 If anyone chooses to read this little love story of mine, I hope it brings you something wholesome!

If no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

You inhaled deeply, taking the salty air into your lungs as you gazed out over the cliff side and across the rippling blue that stretched on and on until it met the soft pink glow of the horizon. Your eyes tracked the tide lapping at the smooth sands. You slipped off your heels to meet the cool pavement, but you could feel it already - the soft golden grains molding to meet your steps. These shores hadn't borne your footprints in over a decade, but here you were, drawn back again by the hypnotic crash of the sea and the lonely call of the gulls. It felt as though you had never left. You leaned over the railing of the rickety staircase that wove its way down the cliff side into the sand and scree. Your gaze trailed down the steps, one by one, until you saw it, jutting out halfway down: the lip of a ledge in the rock face. Your breath caught in your chest. Old, familiar feelings of a time gone by washed over you. The years rolled back like clouds from the sun in the western sky.

You were nineteen.

You shivered, drawing your knees up and hugging them to you as sat on the thick woolen blanket you had laid over the cool stone of the ledge. Even on a summer night like this, you should have worn something more practical. But you had worn your cotton sundress with the cherries. He had once told you that you looked like the main character in that dress, and it had been your favorite ever since.

You watched the moon dance on the dark water and thought about all it had seen. It had been watching the little alcove from the beginning. It had seen you the summer after your first year of middle school, wrapped in a blanket with book between your hands, as you took refuge from the emotional turmoil that shook your house nearly every night leading up to your parents' divorce. It had seen the boy one night, wandering the beach with a cigarette and busted lip, trying to smoke away the tears in his eyes. It had seen the boy climb the stairs, only to discover his favorite hiding place was already harboring another runaway. It had seen you look at him - skinny limbs in a jacket and ripped jeans not lanky on his small frame, tussled dark hair, round face, little bleeding pouted lips, dark sharp eyes wide with surprise - and consider that he was likely the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. It had seen him offer you a cigarette which you refused. It had seen him ask you for a light, which you didn't have. And then it had seen you become friends. Best friends. It had watched you become all that the other truly had in the small, beautiful, painful world of a child. And now it would watch him amble up the beach one last time to find you there.

Yoongi. He had been so upset when you told him that you were leaving for college, but he had tried his best not to show it. He was always like that, keeping things deep inside. You had to wait and watch and listen and coax them out. You could always find the right time to do it, when he felt safe to let you. Most nights, though, it was you pouring out every little thing in your heart. Yoongi loved it when you did that. He would listen with the softest little smile and warm eyes, creasing in the corners, as he watched your hands move with as much animation as your voice when you spoke. His nearly-silent breathy laugh would come like a breeze off the sea and waft around you, lifting your spirits and cleansing your soul. His rare, full smile spreading in breathtaking beauty over his face, pulling his upper lip away from his gums. There were the good times, and the bad ones. On hard nights you would hold each other in silence, letting the beat of the other's heart and the steady undulation of the tide carry you through to the dawn.

You remembered the first time you had awakened in his arms after such a night. The light had just started to stream over the tops of the cliffs, painting the water in rose gold. You had shivered, feeling the dampness of the cool salty air in your hair. And then you had looked up and seen him there, holding you, still fast asleep. His face was angelic, little pink lips just parted, chest rising and falling with the swell of his breath, and you swore you could endure anything life threw at you if the first thing you saw each day were his dark lashes resting gently on the apples of his cheeks. Yoongi had finally stirred and blinked down at you, just gazing silently - the little warm smile in his eyes rather than on his lips. In that moment, something had changed. In the weeks that followed, you thought you had never felt so many things at once.

You felt giddy. You felt a little sick. You felt like you could fly.

You were in love.

You were in love and you had very nearly worked up the courage to do something about it when you saw it - that horrid little purple bruise right below his ear. You had asked him if his father had done it and he had been confused at first. But when you brushed your fingers so softly over the mark, his eyes had widened and he had recoiled, pulling up the collar of his jacket to obscure it from your view. He had insisted that he was fine and not to worry. But worry you did, all the way up to the day you realized what the little bruise really was. Then your worry morphed into something different. You felt sick again, but this time it felt like a burden. You had chided yourself for being so stupid. He was beautiful and sixteen, of course he was involved with girls - girls that weren't you. Your heart broke. You pieced it back together with the succor of his friendship, and, soon, you started seeing other boys too. But you never let them give you purple bruises. You didn't want them from their lips.

As the seasons went by, you remained tethered to one another. Regardless of friends or suitors who would come and go, you knew each other in a way that no one else could. A way that didn't require words. Laughter bubbled up without effort or restraint. Fights ended in tears and forehead kisses and never lasted more than a few moments. Never past parting. Until one day a few weeks ago when he had told you that a boy you were going with was seeing another girl. Yoongi had never liked your boyfriend, and so you had reacted badly, gotten defensive and let yourself be angry with him for telling you. You had snapped at him to mind his own business. When he had insisted that you were his business you had said no you weren't, not in that way. He had gone quiet. So quiet. And then he had left. And he hadn't come the next night. Or the night after that.

You were so angry and anxious, and you told yourself you wouldn't wait for him another night, so you stayed home for the rest of the week. Then, on the third night away, you had tucked yourself into bed only to imagine Yoongi waiting for you, alone in the darkness. You had whipped off your covers and gone to find him in your pajamas. When he had seen you he had jumped up, throwing his cigarette aside, and crushed you in his arms. He had hugged you from the other side of the railing, not even waiting for you to climb over, then lifted you to stand before him on the ledge where he had enveloped you in his arms again. You had tried to apologize, but he wouldn't let you. And then you told him what you had been dreading to tell him all summer: you were leaving. He hadn't reacted. He had just held you in silence. But there was something different in him now, something that had his eyes trained immovably on the horizon. Something that wouldn't let him look at you. Something that distracted him from all you had to say as his thumbs brushed softly over your arms. He had looked at you so strangely before you had parted that night.

Now you were meeting one last time before you would watch the little coastal town and all its hurts disappear in your rearview mirror. You needed a second chance and this scholarship might be your only shot. Your reverie broke as you noticed a figure shuffling down the waterline in the bright light of the waxing gibbous. The figure sprung nimbly, with practiced steps, up the stairs, and lightly vaulted the rail, landing with a soft thud, catlike, a few feet from where you sat. He stepped forward, standing over you as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He was wearing tight khakis, white tennis shoes, and a plain white tee under his green military jacket. With a smoke tucked behind his ear and that little smirk on his lips, you thought he might be cooler than Steve McQueen.

"Got a light?" he asked coolly, shoving the pack of Marlboros back in his pocket. You rolled your eyes.

"Of course not, Yoongi. And why on earth do you always ask me that when you've got one anyway?"

Yoongi smiled to himself as he brought a lighter to the little yellow-tipped cylinder between his lips. It was a secret kind of smile, the kind that made you want to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth. But tonight wasn't for fighting, even the bickering kind. He eased himself down beside you with his signature careful grace. You sat in silence, gaze trained out over the water. While you were looking elsewhere, he relaxed, and you tracked his movements in your peripheral vision. You would do this sometimes, especially when he was particularly guarded. He had always been bad at eye contact, but if you gave him a little space he would let down his walls, and you could read him like a book. Just now, he had let his gaze settle on you. Smoke hissed through his lips, his mouth hanging open just a little in that way it did when he was lost to his thoughts. His eyes roved over you in a way that made you mouth go dry. You swallowed. He suddenly shifted his gaze, coughing a bit.

"I like this dress," he offered, like an apology.

"I know," you murmured with a smile.

"Yeah?" he questioned, brow furrowing, as he took another drag. He was quiet for a beat before pressing out another question. "Paul headed out east too?"

"I broke up with him," came your answer, but without a smile this time.

"Yeah?"

"Oh come on, Yoongi," you bit out, "You knew that was going to happen. That's why you told me!"

His jaw ticked ever so slightly.

"You know that's not true. He was cheating on you. I couldn't let you be in the dark about it - get hurt by another one of these assholes who don't deserve your time in the first place."

You sighed, frustration rising unbidden again as Yoongi casually hurtled the unspoken walls you had erected to make things easier.

"What I deserve is my business. I don't go chastising you for letting random bitches suck on your neck and god knows what else so that you don't feel lonely."

The remark had been soft but laced with venom, and you had regretted breaching your own resolve against negativity the moment the words had spilled from your lips.

"Random..." He stared at you intently, surprise and confusion mingling with another indiscernible expression in his eyes as they traced over your features. You were trying to think of a way, any way, to salvage the conversation when he huffed out a laugh.

"You did know what it was!"

"What?"

"That hickey you asked about sophomore year."

Your stomach flipped.

"How do you even remember that?" You blustered in incredulity.

"How do you?"

He was staring at you knowingly with those achingly beautiful dark eyes that always saw you. It was one of the things you loved most about him. But right now it was terrifying. Right now you wanted to escape, only, there was nowhere to go. So for a moment, just a moment, you didn't hide anymore.

"Because," you swallowed, trailing your eyes back up to his, your voice shaking a bit as you whispered, "I remember everything."

A beat. Two. You didn't make a disarming jest, or a hurried qualification. You didn't even blink. In a flash as quick and heavy as a summer storm, years of yearning filled your eyes like intangible tears, holding his face in your gaze before casting it back out over the sea. Yoongi had froze where he sat, eyes trained immovably on you before he suddenly stood, tossing his cigarette and cursing as he took a step toward the edge, weaving his fingers through his hair.

"What?" you asked, almost defensively.

He didn't turn around, but you could hear the emotion in his voice, his head bowed as he wrestled with the words.

"Nah, that's not fair. You're leaving...You're leaving and you're gonna make it even...even harder right now?"

Turns out you weren't the only one who had been building walls with invisible bricks. You jumped to your feet.

"Oh, so this is my fault? You've been telling me my whole life to get out! You convinced me to apply to the Ivy Leagues! You spent the last weeks pushing me away! I don't understand what you want from me, Yoongi!"

He turned toward you, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes on the ground.

"A clean break," he said lowly, "Not from you...for you. I just wanted you to run, no guilt no pain, and not look back."

You felt a lump rise in your throat as you shook your head.

"That's not how it works though. I was always going to look back. Whenever I was frightened or lost or uncertain. Whenever I woke up in the morning or closed my eyes to sleep, or laughed, or...or felt so much joy I didn't know what to do with it. I was always going to look back, Yoongi," You took a deep breath, "I was going to look for you."

Hot tears slipped down your cheeks as you grabbed his arm and pressed your wet face into his shoulder. You could feel his body shake with little sobs.

"Don't," he croaked out, "don't look for me."

"Sorry," you huffed a tearful laugh into the fabric of his sleeve, "I don't think my heart will listen to you. Pretty rough deal when it's yours after all."

You had tried to say it like a joke. It had come out like a promise.

Yoongi stilled. Everything stilled. For a moment, it was as if even the sea and the sky and the moon held their breath. He let his hands fall from where they covered his face. As he lifted his head and turned, you dropped his arm, thinking for one horrible moment that he meant to push you away. But he didn't. He reached for you, and gently, firmly - like every move he ever made, like every word he ever spoke - slipped his hand around the nape of your neck and pressed his mouth against yours.

You gasped softly against his lips.

Sweet, methodical, insistent. He slipped his tongue against your bottom lip and you tilted your head to slot your mouth against his, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed languorously against your own. He tasted like mint and cigarettes and him. You could do this all day. A little dagger pierced your heart at the thought that you only had tonight. You stumbled back, tugging him down beside you onto the blanket. You pushed him to his back and slipped onto his lap, leaning down to reconnect your lips with his. He chuckled into your mouth, his cheeks still wet with tears.

"Slow down," he hummed.

"No," you murmured in simple defiance, kissing along his jaw before dipping to press your mouth to the soft flesh of his neck.

You licked softly, experimentally, along the side of his throat, and his fingers tightened against your waist. He tasted like salty skin and the alcohol of that cheap musky cologne he wore and Yoongi. You leaned back, supporting yourself with hands on either side of his head as you looked down at him.

"Can I?" you asked with a shy smile

"Hm?" he hummed, large, lithe hands massaging your waist.

"Leave a mark?"

His eyes squeezed into little crescent moons, and his mouth pulled up into a full smile he couldn't repress. He chuckled again, reaching up to brush his palm over your cheek, and nodded, tilting his head to the side to expose the creamy skin of his neck. Your heart hammered in your chest as you leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss to his throat before sucking until you had pulled a low, deep groan from him. You pushed up again, surprised at the sound, new and lovely, to find him flushed - his blown pupils darkening his eyes, and a little wet patch of smooth skin growing rosy against his throat. You felt a thrill rush through you, making you tremble. You leaned down and marked him again and again, pulling sweet moans from his lips until his neck and collarbones were littered with the proof of your mouth. You lifted your face to kiss him again, but after pressing his lips to yours twice, he pulled back.

"One more," he whispered, taking your hand from his face and guiding it down to the slight firm swell of the top of his left pec.

His eyes played over your face as you felt it softly against your fingertips - his heart. In a valiant fight for your composure, you pressed your eyes shut and buried your face in his chest. He ran a hand over the back of your head soothingly. You raised your face to meet his gaze again, choking out a little sob at the depth of its gentle affection. You slipped your fingers to the collar of his cotton tee and stretched it down and to the side, revealing his bare chest. With reverence you pressed your mouth to his skin, fulfilling his request.

No sooner had you raised your eyes to his again than he was pulling you against his lips and rolling you to your back. His weight sank into you as your mouths moved together and you thought, maybe, under his warmth was the only place you ever wanted to be. Your body responded to him seemingly of its own accord, your legs weaving around the backs of his thighs as a thrumming ache intensified at your core. As he moved to kiss your neck you found your hips rolling up, seeking relief for the sticky ache at their center, and you were met with a firm knot in his groin that pressed just where you were neediest. Your high-pitched whine was a sharp contrast to his low growl into your shoulder. It was intoxicating - his sensation, his sound, and you undulated against him over and over to slake your want on his growing hardness and hear his breath come quick against your ear. He began to rock against you in return, and soon you were whimpering into his neck, beads of sweat cooling on your forehead against the night air as each rut of his hips became overwhelming and not enough.

"Yoongi, please," you begged in a breathy moan, lightly squeezing the back of his neck and turning your damp forehead against his soft cheek.

He pushed up to look at you, brushing away the little hairs clinging to your brow. He looked as needy as you, but a little uncertain.

"What is it?" he asked. You knew he knew. You leaned up and kissed him chastely before letting your head fall back against the blanket.

"I want you," you murmured, suddenly barely able to look at him as the words formed on your lips.

Yoongi dipped to press another kiss to your mouth before sitting up and back on your thighs, and gently tugging you up with him. You noticed the bulge straining against the front of his khakis, and he winced slightly as he wiggled to adjust against your legs. He took your hands in his, that little smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips, tongue darting out lick at them as he considered you thoughtfully. Impatient, you pushed his jacket off his shoulder, which he fully shed and cast aside, and ran your hands over his cotton-clad chest. His muscle jumped when you grazed down over his stomach, which you thought must be as soft and lovely as the rest of him.

"Are you sure you want this to happen right now, with me?" he asked tenderly. You looked up at him, your brow pinched in question. "Your first time?"

You scoffed, your face heating as you looked away, brushing bits of sand from the blanket.

"How do you know if it's my first time?"

His little smile spread into a grin.

"Because I know," he offered, a bit smugly.

You toyed with the hem of his shirt.

"I'm sure," you murmured. And then you looked up at him. "Have you ever..."

"Yeah," he responded, almost like he was sorry, as he glanced down and took your hands in his again. He bit the bottom corner of his lip. "I don't have a condom."

You felt your heart pounding as the concept of him taking you where you sat became increasingly real.

"So pull out," you offered nonchalantly, hoping you sounded far more experienced than he knew you were.

He nodded. You snaked a hand between you to dance your fingers over the strain against the crotch of his pants. His hand flew to encircle your wrist and still your movements. He took a deep breath.

"It might hurt you at first. Maybe the whole time," he said, his thumb brushing in a pendulum motion over your arm. You nodded.

"I know. I don't care."

He smiled again, regarding you for a long moment.

"Okay," he said, nodding and licking his lips before taking your jaw delicately between the rounded pads of his fingers. "But you have to promise me one thing."

"Hm?"

"You still have to leave in the morning."

You heaved a sigh. Oh, Yoongi. You thought you might cry again, so you nodded, pulling him down over you once more.

"Promise me," he murmured against your lips.

"I promise," you breathed.

You kissed slowly, greedily, learning each other's mouths and mapping each other's faces and necks. At some point he dipped below your collarbone to drag his lips along the tops of your breasts. Your hand flew into his hair and he looked up at you, dark eyes seeking permission. You nodded, bottom lip clamped between your teeth as he tugged down the stretchy bodice of your sundress to reveal a simple beige bra that clasped in the front.

"It's not sexy," you remarked apologetically.

He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and dipped to kiss the tops of your breasts as his fingers found the clasp.

"Shhh, it's just the wrapping," he whispered as he snapped the garment open, letting your breasts fall into view as they pushed aside the fabric cups that had confined them.

He cursed under his breath as he brought both hands to your tits and kneaded them gently, sliding your pert nipples in the spaces between his fingers. You mewled, arching your back to press your chest up into his grasp. Before you could truly revel in the feeling of his hands plying your supple flesh, they were gone, but your whine of protest was cut short by a sharp keen as his mouth replaced his fingers. He suckled and nipped at one bud and then the other, and each time he released one with a pop, you were certain you had been rendered temporarily unconscious. Soon he was sitting up and smirking down at the panting, writhing mess of you beneath him. You saw him grimace again as he adjusted his stance, and you reached for his zipper, only to find your hand caught in his.

"No yet," he chided lightly, a twinkle in his eye, "I have to make you cum."

You drew your arm back and cast it over the top of your face, suddenly shy at his remark.

"To get you ready for me," he explained again in a murmur as he pushed your dress up to your rib cage.

He traced his hands lightly over your naked waist and you shivered. He moved to his knees, pushing your legs to either side of him. He hooked his fingers into the top of your pink cotton panties, when you suddenly felt yourself sitting up, your dress falling back over your midriff. You were a sight - wild hair and your tits half out, still panting for breath while worry painted your features. Yoongi pulled his hands away and sat back, confusion in his widened eyes.

"I don't shave," you rushed out, "I know some girls do, but I've never tried. And...I don't know, I'm kind of a mess down there right now..."

Yoongi's face softened and he leaned forward to press his forehead to yours.

"I don't care," he whispered. You huffed out another sigh.

"But...but what if you...don't like it?"

"I know I will."

"How?"

He bumped your nose with his, swallowing again as his hand found yours.

"Because I love you."

He only let the words hang in the air for a millisecond before he was crashing his lips into yours again, passionately, as if it was the only way he could convey his conviction.

He loved you. You could have died. But he was pressing one of the kisses you would always remember into your lips like an oath, so you didn't. And then you let him bare your skin and lay you down and tell you that you were beautiful. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you felt your heart believe him. How were you to leave in the morning when his soft, warm words felt like the sun?

He ran his hands over your sides and thighs, dipping to trail slow, deliberate kisses down from your navel until his chin brushed the soft, curly hairs of your mound. Your breath caught in your chest as the cool air hit fresh slick dampening your sex. He leaned back again, regarding you with warm eyes, and took your hand in his, placing it over your lower lips.

"Do you touch yourself?"

You stammered. He had asked you as simply as if he were inquiring about your favorite flavor of ice cream. With effort you admitted that you did. He stroked over your hand.

"Show me how. What makes you feel good."

You nodded slowly, feeling yourself tremble a little as you moved to stroke your middle finger in beckoning motions over your swollen clit. The motion that should have been almost automatic and familiar felt new and lewd under his gaze. As you dipped to gather more arousal from your entrance you watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat and his hands tighten where they gripped your thighs.

"You're soaked," he murmured as he stooped to press a kiss to your belly. Then he did something that would be seared into your brain for all eternity: he scooped up your hand and brought it to his lips, sucking your sticky middle finger into his mouth. You gushed at the sensation of his lips and tongue, wide eyes locked on his as he slowly let your finger slip free.

"You want to know how you taste?" He asked, not waiting for an answer before humming, "So fucking good."

"Yeah?" you asked breathlessly, propped up on your forearms to watch as he laid down between your legs.

"Mhm. Sweet. Like honey."

He kissed into your pubic hair, slipping one of his long fingers to trace over your clit the way you had showed him. You gasped as you watched him work you up, something inside your growing taut like a bowstring. And then a kind of pleasure you had never imagined, the kind that made you want to melt and scream, rushed through your trembling body as a single finger pressed slowly past your entrance while his mouth found your clit. You found your hips bucking to meet his thrusts as he pressed in a second finger. You felt a slight sting at the stretch, but the exquisite pressure of this knobby knuckles caressing your walls overwhelmed any pain, and when he pressed the pads of his fingers to massage a spongy patch of muscle, you cried out, gripping his dark locks.

"Yoongi!" you moaned as he repeated the motion, and when he took your clit between his lips to suck you came.

You came hard and in waves, rolling your hips into him until you were clamping your thighs shut at the raw sensitivity of overstimulation. Yoongi sat up to rub his hands over your shaking thighs and heaving belly before leaning back down to kiss you and return your spirit through his lips from the astral plane.

"You did so good," he cooed, "Came so easy for me."

"That's good?" you asked between pants. He chuckled into your neck.

"Mhm."

"It felt good, Yoongi, really good." He dropped a kiss to your shoulder, and then mumbled into your skin.

"You still want to go all the way?"

"Yes," you whispered, pulling his shirt up his back and running your hands over his bare skin.

Yoongi sat up and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to lay with his jacket. He was slender and milky, as you had expected, but his shoulders were surprisingly broad, and his upper chest firm. The soft swell of his belly was dusted with a trail of delicate dark hairs leading down from his navel. You reached instinctively for the button of his pants, and this time he let you. Trailing the zipper down, he helped you shed his tight pants and boxers, sighing in relief as he freed his erection. You bit your lip as your hand trailed over the velvety skin of his shaft. Even this part of him was beautiful, you thought - not overly long but thick and proud with a pretty vein and a smooth tip glistening with precum. You had been so consumed with drinking him in that you only now noticed the little needy whimpers falling from his lips as you stroked him. You squeezed a little firmer, pumping him with more confidence.

"Like that?" you asked, unable to look away from the sweet sight of his face as his eyebrows knitted and his head tilted back.

"Yeah, just...no, no, I won't last," he groaned, his hand stilling yours.

When he met your concerned gaze he reached up to stroke your cheek.

"Feels too good," he murmured reassuringly, then he guided you back down on the blanket, balling up his jacket and slipping it under your head.

He lowered himself carefully over you, skin to skin, as he kissed you again and again, his right hand toying with your breast and trailing lower to caress your clit. You could feel the heat rising in you again, and an aching want inside growing deeper and hungrier with every shock of pleasure. When he trailed his fingers through your folds to find you thoroughly wet he leaned to the side, gliding his length between your lips, his smooth tip brushing over your bud. You cursed, fingers digging into his back and he huffed a little laugh, eyes sparkling down at you.

"Dirty girl," he chuckled, before kissing the tip of your nose. "Are you ready?"

You felt a squeeze of trepidation in your chest, but you pushed it away.

"Yes," you assured him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

For a long moment, he just stared down at you, the same look in his eyes as the morning you had first awakened in his arms, but so intent - as if he was trying to commit every feature of your face, in this moment, to memory. Finally breaking his gaze, he glanced down between your bodies, aligning himself with your entrance. His eyes flicked back up to you as he slowly, slowly breached your core. When he had pressed in past his tip you felt the searing stretch he had warned you of. You closed your eyes, drawing in a sharp breath.

"You okay?" came is worried voice, "Want to stop?" You shook your head.

"No, just do it," you panted through the pain, "I want it to be you."

You pulled him down to press your mouth to his. Every kiss between you seemed to say something. This one said that you trusted him in a way you would never trust another.

He was so gentle. Pressing in slowly, giving you time to stretch around the thickness of him, kissing you sweetly through your whimpers, until he was fully sheathed inside you. Tears filled your eyes and trickled down your cheeks. You were so full of him.

"Why are you crying?" he cooed, touching his forehead to yours.

Your hands clutched his back as you raised watery eyes to his.

"Because I'm yours, Yoongi. Yours first and no one else's." He buried his face in your neck.

"Take me, Yoongi," you whispered desperately into his ear, "Take me like I'm yours."

You felt him let out a tiny sob against your skin and then he started to move. He kept a slow pace at first, carefully gliding against your tight walls, unaccustomed to his presence. You could feel him jerk and twitch as he moved, and thought he must be restraining himself. You found the worst of your pain had passed, and all you wanted in the world was to make him cum.

"Don't hold back," you hummed as you rolled your hips to meet his thrusts.

He didn't need you to tell him twice, instantly setting a quicker, sharper pace that had his balls slapping your ass and his pelvic bone pressing to your clit with each forward snap.

"You're so fucking tight," he mumbled, a dazed look beginning to overtake his features, "You feel so good, baby. So good." You wove your hands into his hair, pulling him down to kiss him as you breathed in every curse, whimper, and moan. And then he was looking down at you with dark, wild eyes.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetheart, where do you want me to cum?"

You didn't have to think.

"Inside," you answered breathlessly.

"But I'm not..."

"Please, cum inside me, Yoongi. Please," you whimpered, tempted to wrap your legs around his waist - your desire for him transcending every fear of consequence. But you wanted to give him the choice.

He raised himself up on his elbows, his thrusts coming impossibly harder and more erratic, and then he came. You watched him in exaltation as he threw his head back and cried out, emptying himself inside you. So beautiful, you thought, with his hair clinging to his brow, his chest heaving and flushed, and his face drawn in the throes of his release. You did wrap your legs around him then, and he collapsed, his head falling to your breasts as he gasped for breath. You tangled your fingers into his hair, caressing his head. You were swollen and sore and messy, and yet the thought of him abandoning you was unbearable. And the moon saw it all.

It saw you stay each other's as long as possible. It watched you both try to hide your tears as you pulled on your clothes. It watched you fight desperately, and fail, to put your heart in words. It watched him silence you, and hold you, because you didn't have to say it. He knew. It watched you fall asleep in his arms one last time.

You opened your eyes. The gulls were crying and the pale morning sunlight was spilling over the tops of the cliffs. The sea was soft and plashing and cerulean. It was the most beautiful of the ninety-three mornings of summer. But you didn't notice - all you saw were dark lashes on the apples of soft cheeks. You watched his breath rise and fall as the sun tipped over the horizon in the east, the dew trickling down your face as salty as the sea.

When Yoongi's eyes fluttered open they met your red ones, and he pressed is forehead to yours only for a moment before pulling you up to stand.

"Get outta here," he whispered shakily, hands still clutching your arms and brow still tilted into your own.

"Come with me," you choked tracing your hands over his chest.

"I can't leave her with him."

"I know." Your fingers traced over his heart and the little bruise you knew rested under the cotton fabric.

Yoongi wept.

"Go," he whispered, squeezing your arms. You nodded weakly.

"Go, goddamn it, go!" he cried, as you shook with sobs, then he crushed his mouth against yours.

Time didn't stop, you'd have any - so you stole every second you could.

And then you kept your promise.

You shivered as a zephyr sprang off the water to whip around you, disrupting your thoughts. You tugged at your blazer. It had been a long time since you wore a sundress with cherries.

It was time to let them go, the little girl huddled in a blanket and the boy with the bleeding lip. They had held your hands for so long. They deserved to be free. It was time to let them go, so you did.

With a deep sigh you cast one last wistful glance back over the great blue expanse as the sun sank into the sea.

The moon was just a silver slip in the sky that night, but it saw. It saw before you did, as you turned to go, the breath catching in your chest when a low, soft voice behind you asked,

"Got a light?"

-Fin-

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sailoryooons · 1 year

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Suga's How-To Guide | Play | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Camboy!Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: Min Yoongi has been a cam boy for a few years now. The work is easy, the money is good, and he has loyal viewers. When he approaches you and asks if you want to be his muse for a ‘how-to’ series, your view on the infamous Yoongi changes.

☾ Word Count: 820

☾ Genre: Friends to lovers, pwp

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Sex work (cam couple), vaginal fingering, voyeurism, mentions of oral sex (f. receiving) mentions of cum eating, explicit language

☾ Published: May 14, 2023

☾ A/N: I lowkey forgot that I wrote this when I was traveling back from Chicago and seeing Yoongi in the flesh and just came across it when I was editing all my writing folders so - surprise? This is unbeta'd and unedited so please forgive me.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Series Masterlist | Part of Hali’s Happy Agust | Previous Chapter

Keyed up doesn’t begin to describe how you feel, hips jutting forward as Yoongi presses a finger firmly to your clit. You’re breathless, head pressed against his shoulder as he chuckles, mouth pressed to your ear. His breath is hot, making you shiver as he slow circles your throbbing bud, a whine leaving your mouth.

“Can you take it?” Yoongi asks, voice scratchy. His fingers dip down to gather the wetness dripping from your cunt, slicking up his fingers. “Yeah, you can take it. Look how fucking swollen you are.”

You do look. Up, into the laptop screen, where your bodies are a tableau of pleasure that is hard to recognize. Seeing yourself like this still doesn’t feel normal. It doesn’t feel like it’s you on the laptop screen, where comments from viewers flood the side channel. It doesn’t feel like your body, sweaty and pressed against Yoongi’s chest, sitting between his legs with your legs hooked over his knees, butterflied for the camera.

The person who looks back at you is lost in a haze of pleasure, gasping as Yoongi’s fingers circle your clit lazily. His mouth attaches to a delicate patch of skin just below your ear, sucking noisily. Pleasure thrums through you in response, your lids closing, losing the vision on the screen.

It feels like heaven. Body hot, held close to Yoongi’s bare chest. His cock his hard, pressed up against your back, sticky and eager. Your nipples tightend, spit slicked from his mouth early and cold from the temperature in the room.

Yoongi has you wrapped up in him. Melted. Splayed. His.

It feels so fucking good. Yoongi’s touch is reverant but determined. His hands know your body better than anyone else in the world, his fingers intent as he slides down your cunt with his hands, slipping a finger in your hole.

A moan drips out of your mouth and you drip around his fingers, sticky and slow. He smiles against your throat, nipping you lightly as you grip his fingers, wanting more. He doesn’t give you more, though. Not at first. He’s intent to lazily fuck you with one finger, palm of his hand pressed up against your clit to provide pleasure.

“Fuck,” you whisper, head lolling to the side. “Please?”

“You said you’d let me play,” he asserts. You can’t see his face but you can hear the pout. You open your eyes to look at him and sure enough, his bottom lip is jutted out, eyes round. It would fool you if his pupils were dilated and his finger wasn’t buried in your pussy. “You don’t want to let me play?”

Instead of giving him a proper response, you whine. His finger presses up against your g-spot, making your vision go white. He snickers and continues, strokes growing faster and firmer. The wet slap of his hand against you spurs you on, your hands shooting to the arm looped around your waist and the one pulling you apart.

You’ll never get tired of this. The way Yoongi lets you squirm against him, the deep vibration of his voice humming through you as he whispers to you. Such a wet fucking pussy. Just like that, let me hear you.

The room spins when he adds another finger. You squeeze down on them, walls sucking his finger in. He curses and keeps going, keeps playing with you. Teases you a little, teases the audience as he retracts his fingers for a moment, bringing them to his mouth to suck generously and bring them back down.

“So good,” Yoongi murmurs, more to you than the camera. “Gonna let me eat you out after you come, hmm? Gonna let me taste you?”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“You’re squeezing my fingers holy shit.”

There’s a sound that comes from you that is a blur of almost words. You go taught in his arms as your orgasm inches closer. Legs shaking, locked behind his knees. Nails digging into his skin, eyes clenched, breath held.

When you come, it’s with his fingers buried in you, palm pressed hard against your clit. Yoongi doesn’t stop, the pressure is so strong that your vision pulses on the edge and you can’t catch your breath. All you can do is squeeze until you’re gasping for air, muscles losing strength and melting into him, body twitching.

You’re spent, panting and slack against Yoongi. He’s soft, lips pressing feather light kisses to your jaw. He sneaks in a small nip to your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth and you wine. He laughs and the sound makes you shiver worse than the post-orgasm tingles.

Carefully, Yoongi slides his fingers from your cunt. You’re soaked, thighs slick and sticky and cold where the air conditioning hits them. Yoongi traces your entrance lightly, enough to make your hips wiggle but not enough to overstimulate you.

Yoongi murmurs to the camera, “Now watch what I do with my mouth.”

previous chapter

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #suga bts #suga fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #camboy yoongi

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interpolanticssuperfan · 8 months

Text

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 5 | 18+ only

hi everyone!! wow, i did not mean for this chapter to be so meaty!! i sort of had fun setting up the building blocks for ken's return, so i hope it makes sense and feels necessary. thanks for reading and supporting <3 <3 SMUT IS COMING!! DO NOT WORRY (:

tags: @heyareyoulistening @itsametaphorbriansblog @alyeria @chrispontiass

After Ken leaves you, the weekend passes by without notable interruption. Life goes on, and you have no choice but to keep going with it. If the blues of the sky pale, the whorls of white clouds disentangle themselves into nothing; if the pastels of colored buildings all seem duller afterwards, you don’t say anything about it to anyone.

Not like you had anyone to tell.

Your supervisor ends up buying the flimsy lie you’d concocted as to why you were so behind on reports and emails. To compensate for the hindrance and cover your ass, you worked a handful of hours on Sunday, barely functioning after fighting sleep that night. Blinking blearily into your weak homemade coffee.

The first night without Ken was impressively quiet. Hours of tossing and turning, counting stippled designs on the ceiling and squeezing your eyes shut when the blue or white light of your television grew too intense, your mind repeating on a loop that you’d never see him again. Funnily enough, the obtrusive screen could have easily been turned off, but the idea of laying cocooned in silence was worse than any other punishment imaginable.

You remembered how clean and aromatic Ken had smelled in your kitchen, as you observed the featherlight movement of his stomach, his breath tense under your catatonic stare. Like fresh linen, the initial wave of those pink tulips planted in tiny little rows in front of the library, the relief of a clean, spotless home.

Ken had smelled like a long-awaited sigh, like comfort, like the warm tailend of a nap that you couldn’t be shaken out of. A home you’d never known. Each element of Ken’s ever having existed had blown out the front door and followed him back to a place that didn’t sound real. Maybe wasn’t real.

How could you miss someone you hadn’t even really known at all?

Perhaps you could traipse out of the bedroom, wait out there in silence to see if you could still pick up any lingering traces of him in the dark, if you could pick up any notes of the pure bleach of his hair, pungent like a drying ink stamp.

Something told you even if you had nuzzled against Ken’s head, it wouldn’t smell like chlorine, wouldn’t smell like sodium hypochlorite or aluminum foil, because Ken didn’t need to seek out alterations to make himself beautiful, didn’t need to add to or take away from any part of his physicality to fit some type of standard.

He was naturally impeccable. Easily unmarred.

(Astonishing, really, how little time it had taken for your every waking moment to be consumed with thoughts of Ken.)

But now your living space was stoic. Fragmented by a deficit of light and life and sparkling teeth that glowed like ethereal cave moss.

(Teeth you desired to feel with your own tongue, battling for dominance in his sweet, pink mouth that curved like a marble bow. You wanted to memorize the dips and juts of his molars, his canines, wanted to know them each by shape alone.)

The cold right side of your bedsheets felt freezing to the touch once you’d spent three hours awake in the small of dawn imagining how wonderful it’d be to share it with someone. Picturing the rise and fall of thin fabric as Ken rested, let his body go lax next to yours. The way he wanted to. The way he’d been angling for.

You frowned to yourself, twisting a fraying thread on the empty pillow around your pinky, the silk too plump, too… devoid of blonde companionship.

How could you have pushed Ken away? Was it mere loneliness that had conjured this visceral reaction out of you? The feeling that deep down, you’d never really been seen for who you were and subsequently accepted? Let alone fawned over?

Your head bobbed as if underwater, tumbling out of wakefulness and into disappointment.

The second night without Ken had been fretful. Restless. Two bottles of pink wine sent you straight to sleep, and after brushing Willa’s hair and ordering in ten dollar pad thai, the only flashes of blonde you saw in your conscience were drifting through sleep, hazy through lackluster dreams.

You tried cleaning. Tried scrubbing the tiles of the kitchen for something to do. Anything to remind yourself that you had responsibilities, that life carried on outside of the compelling stranger you’d met at the library.

When Sunday rolled around your work bag felt about as heavy as the ones under your eyes, twin weights that refused to be alleviated.

You wished you understood why this was taking such a toll on you. Even Willa seemed to be raising her eyebrows at you from her tiny enclosure.

You’d been the one to suggest that Ken leave. That he pack it up and go right back the way he’d came.

You’d never really been one for accepting good things that rolled into your life. Whether they made sense or not, had been earned or not. Displays of paranoia at even the most throwaway compliment.

It’s how you’d reacted to receiving a scholarship – awkward declinations that catapulted house parties or family dinners into palpable silence. “No, no. Really, it’s nothing, I don’t even deserve this. Don’t mention it. Can we please stop talking about this now?”

You didn’t even like celebrating your own birthday.

How ironic, that the pinpricks of attention from your loved ones made you shrink under the pressure, but the laser-tight surveillance Ken directed towards you had the opposite reaction. You came to life under his scrutiny. Felt your heart swell and twist with each moment he spent watching you.

The cashier at the corner store nearly dropped his jaw in horror when he caught a glimpse of how ragged you were looking. Hair a mess, eyes barely open, your fingers fumbling with your wallet as you paid for another pack of cigarettes.

“Been a minute, (Y/N). Everything going alright?” What he really wanted to say was, what the fuck happened to you?

You ignore the stilt of his worried voice. “Fine. Thanks.” The kid doesn’t push it, just adjusts his baseball cap and shrugs, watches you shoulder out the front door with a loaded sigh.

Setting up at the library reminded you too much of the sweet, breezy morning you’d met Ken, the sunshine that had wrapped itself around you. You just couldn’t anticipate how you’d react while trying to pay attention there, surrounded by so many reminders of the only interesting, worthwhile thing that had ever happened to you, so the most sensible course of action seemed to be the patio.

You lasted about an hour in the sunshine before the glare bothered you and all you wanted was darkness.

Monday proved to be worse.

Reluctant to leave the apartment, you work again for the day in the kitchen, pouring a glass of wine at noon and logging off early at four when the carpet starts to spin, when email subjects blur into train tracks of nonsense that you can’t make sense of.

Your sister calls unexpectedly at dinner time while you’re dozing off at seven, drooling on the pillow. It goes straight to voicemail. How nice of her to find time away from her son to remember your existence.

Rubbing your temples, you chide yourself. Not nice to think things like that. Grow up.

Not calling her back, you throw your phone on the bed and follow suit, dropping down again and sipping a crushed can of beer from the night before, stale and tasteless.

Tuesday plagued you with the promise of nice weather, a drop in extreme temperature, but again, the second you got dressed to head down to the library, you felt laziness tug at your mind, felt depression sink into your chest.

Why even bother, you wondered? Why bother when I’ve a perfectly comfortable bed just around the corner where I won’t have to be looked at.

It should have concerned you. The drastic, melodramatic changes you’d been experiencing, the intense highs and lows of your emotional wellbeing all because of some guy you’d only met last week.

Then again, you’d always been like this. Building up fantasy lives and scenarios in your head so fondly (stupidly) that when faced with reality, actual human beings tended to let you down, so this exercise always resulted in disappointment. Locking yourself in your childhood room, scrawling on the walls in pencil and then erasing what you’d written for hours. Your parents left clueless without any idea as to how to handle your outbursts.

Wednesday seemed to tease you. A pointless company retreat at corporate meant your supervisors were all out of town until Friday, inviting you to slack off as much as you wanted – ergo, no one would notice your idling.

So you slept diligently until noon, fed Willa her special pellets during a fleeting moment of salience, and then got ready to catch a taxi to your favorite bar.

Who said you couldn’t work from a sticky countertop surrounded by shots of tequila and boisterous strangers?

Not like you’d be paying much mind to your laptop anyway. You showered out of habit and slipped into a skirt that fit your hips nicely, in your opinion, and shimmied into a tight fitting brown top.

It occurred to you that calling your sister back would be a fruitful use of your afternoon, but shoving your phone into your bag, you decided to put that off for another time.

Perhaps when your head wasn’t spinning with pathetic visions of being shoved into a wall and forcibly kissed breathless, strong hands glued to your side and tracking down the outside of your pelvis, repetitive circles rubbed into your skin with soft thumbprints until you could finally, finally undo the zipper, hurry the rest of his clothes off, shove him backward into your bed –

The taxi blares its horn out front in the road, shaking you from the vivid daydream. Leaving you with nothing but emptiness and a heat pooling in your abdomen that had grown difficult to suppress. Arid summer air filled your weary lungs, and you hid behind a chunky pair of sunglasses which successfully concealed how tired you looked from the driver, who looked to be as old as your father.

“Dropping you off right at Paulson’s? Or you going to the cafe right next door? Place is pretty popular from what I’ve heard.” His attempt at genial conversation was kind, but it wasn’t what you needed right now.

“Actually, Paulson’s is fine. I’m meeting a friend.” Pulse still racing in your throat from what you’d been imagining earlier, it takes mountains of effort to keep your voice even.

“No problem. Just making sure.”

The bar is essentially empty save for you, two employees and a guy slouched into a newspaper near the television. Which is fair, seeing as it isn’t even two in the afternoon.

One tequila soda turns into two which turns into a blistering three which eventually turns into closing up your laptop in favor of chatting gregariously with the bartender, complaining about the weather and the price of gas (even though you don’t drive) and requesting ABBA on the ancient jukebox. Patrons start to trickle in as the sun sets and it’s just as well, you’d been feeling particularly lonely by yourself.

The pack of cigarettes you’d bought dwindles as you reach your fourth cocktail. You light another one, hold it to your lips just as a figure approaches from behind.

A guy with long, stringy brown hair takes the stool next to you, his scrawny frame swimming in a button up shirt too big for him. He’d given you a once over before picking this spot, and you knew it. You swallow, your throat clicking, and think to yourself that were it not for Ken, he’d be exactly the type you usually go for.

Quiet, unassuming guys who don’t have much going on in life besides perhaps their accounting job and a few friends they see in dingy bars. Maybe they play shitty music in shitty bands that you hate staying out to see.

You should hate how it reeks inside this smoking-allowed bar. You should hate that you’re capable of drinking so much in one sitting, that it hasn’t knocked you out, put you to sleep. You should hate the persistent way this skeleton-thin loser is eyeing you from behind his beer, but you don’t.

You should hate how easily you rip yourself open for men.

The guy tucks a strand of that hair behind his ear and it makes you squirm. Any music coming from the jukebox feels a hundred miles away.

“What are you drinking?” A beat of silence passes between you, and you flare your nostrils, unsure of how to proceed but honestly so sloppy from the liquor you aren’t giving it too much thought.

“Tequila.” You take another drag from the smoke, blow it away towards the propped open door, your mouth lazing in an “O”.

“How’s that going?”

“Pretty great.” It wasn’t a lie. If great consisted of your vision fuzzing at the edges and your mind falling blissfully quiet for the first time in days.

“You have beautiful hair.” The offhand comment makes your cheeks flush. It could’ve also been combining with the sizable amount of liquor you’d imbibed.

“Mind if I buy you another round?” You wonder if this a trap. If it’s a trick. The guy’s deep brown eyes swirl under the overhead lights, comfortably dim, and you can nearly smell the sweat circling the back of his neck. It’s like a starving lion fighting the urge to pounce at a wounded gazelle bleeding out profusely on a plain. Agony.

But the idea of Ken accepting a drink from a girl throwing herself all over him has bile crawling up your throat, and you pale at the thought. Absolutely not – no way.

Not like you owned him. Not like you wanted to own him.

“Sorry, I’m actually on my way out.” It’s a blatant lie, it feels thick on your tongue and it’s so obvious to the stranger too with his damp chest on display, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, but it’s not smart for you to entertain him for another moment longer. You round the bar to a less occupied area, take another shot, and close your tab.

Your bag has never felt so heavy on your shoulder before.

The taxi heading back home is initially uneventful, but as soon as the driver peels onto the highway, something about your stomach doing cartwheels and the melting streetlights makes you emotional. You can hear Ken’s voice at your side, hear his words playing at your neck.

“That’s one enormous building, (Y/N). People work way up there? Even right at the top? Oh, man. Did you see that fountain – it’s like a lake! I bet you can ice skate there when it’s cold enough. Would you go with me? When it’s cold?”

You’re about to tell Ken yes, of course we can go skating, when you remember it’s not real. It’s so seamless to place him here, to envision how he’d react to the different sights and sounds of the city. Feels so correct, like it was preordained or something. He’d wrinkle his nose at the way you smell right now, but he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to be next to you.

It’s impossible to hide the tears that flow from your eyes as you rest your forehead against the chilly window. Choking back an audible sob, you dig your nails into your palm, everything so small and futile and fucking lonely. The covered seats smell like patchouli and you just want to get home.

Thoughtfully, the driver clears his throat, turns the radio down a smidge.

“Is there… do you have anyone you can call?” He asks politely and clearly despite his noticeable stutter. For some reason he surmises that you’re in a state to have a conversation.

“Uh, I... do I look that bad?” You question.

“I wasn’t trying to insult you, miss.” He seems offended.

“Well. My sister’s the only person I know within a fifty mile radius of the city, and she’s so busy with her kid I don’t think she’d give me the time of day. ‘Specially not when I’ve been drinking like this. Thanks for asking.”

He peers at the road like he’s ready to drop the subject, but he gives a light cough after a few seconds.

“A boyfriend, then?”

Oh, Jesus. Not this guy, too? Can you ever catch a break? His bizarre advances and body language were about to make you cry even harder.

“There was this guy. He was. He was everything. I pushed him away… I feel like I’m going crazy. Didn't even know him that well. He was so exciting. And he treated me like I was the interesting one, but I'm not. I'm not. And I told him to go home. I always do this.” Snot trickles from your nose in time for your bare wrist to catch some of it. If you weren’t so drunk, you’d apologize to the driver for being such a nuisance.

“I’m sure if he was feeling the same way you are, he won’t be upset to hear from you again. Distance can show a guy what he really cares about.”

Thumb scraping at the mascara clumps under your eyelashes, you nod, surprisingly agreeing with the driver.

“I guess so. I don’t know, it just feels like I screwed things up with him. I have never met anyone like him before. Like if I lost him, I feel like I might die.”

“Sounds pretty serious.” He clucks his tongue, listening intently as the road whizzes by.

“That, or I’m just an insane person. He relied on me for a lot of things.”

“Were you living together?” The driver wonders aloud, flipping to a local late night talk show. It occurs to you to check the time. Ten past nine. You’d been at the bar for that long?

“No, he was just… getting used to the world. He had been away for awhile. If that makes sense.”

The driver nods knowingly, a glint in his eye that you catch from the rearview mirror. “I see. He did some time and now you’re helping him get acclimated to life again?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility to put on your shoulders. Doesn’t he have family who can help too? Unless he cut ties with his family. Getting tangled up with the law can put a lot of stress on everyone involved. I know from experience. My brother robbed an electronics store when he was nineteen, he’s still paying for it.”

Normally, this sort of long winded back and forth would annoy you, moreso after you’d been crying. But the driver’s words lulled you back down to earth, reminded you that other humans and situations and problems existed outside of your own insulated world.

“Sorry to hear that. To answer your question, I’m kind of his only lifeline. The only one who can help with all the things he wants to know. Like I’m a mother sometimes. I know how that sounds, but it’s not a horrible thing, not really. I have no idea how he’s going to find a job. I don’t know how much I’m supposed to be involved, or if I should just let him be an individual and figure things out on his own. You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”

The driver shakes his head curtly, rolls the windows down a pinch for you. You’d been hoping he’d answer affirmatively as you’d already pulled another smoke out from your bag.

“Well, not that you asked my opinion. But I say just be realistic. If you see a need you can fill, I say there’s no harm in helping. Oh, I almost forgot. I volunteer at an animal shelter right outside of town. You know where the Lyons Bridge is?”

“Yeah, my dentist is over there on the corner of Orwell.”

“It’s right across, you can’t miss it. Point being, I can probably talk to my manager, see if we have any work to offer. Not sure how your hubby does with animals, but it’s a start, right? And for someone jumping in fresh, you can’t really beat it.”

The unprompted offer caught you off guard, and you barely had the sense of mind to give him a smile, or positive acknowledgment. You flicked your cigarette with your thumb, watched the ashes dance away. “Wow. I mean. Thank you so much, seriously. That’s so kind of you. If I see him again I will definitely tell him that.”

“You’re very welcome. It was hard for my brother too, getting back on his feet. For years I was the only one in his corner supporting him, so I know how you feel.”

When he pulls up to the half circle parking loop in front of your apartment building, the driver scrawls the name and number of the shelter on a business card. He cracks a lopsided grin, and you realize that this guy is probably way too old to have been hitting on you.

“I really appreciate the opportunity, sir.”

“Call me Mike.”

“Mike. Thank you.” You made to pop open the door handle, ready to face the nothingness of the rest of your night, visions of the wine coolers in your fridge calling to you sweetly, but Mike piped up again.

“Not so fast, little lady. I think you should dry your tears and give him a call. Put on a nice dress, you know? Put your best foot forward. Lord knows he missed you while he was behind bars!” Obviously it was meant to be a joke, but the heart behind it felt a little too real, though you’d lied about the nature of your relationship with Ken.

Ken. Even saying his name had your palms growing clammy, your eyes welling up again with stupid, childish tears. Mike noticed this falter in your face, and he shifted his body fully in his seat to face you.

“No more of that, okay? It’ll be alright. Just get yourself cleaned up and give him a call. Think positive.”

“You’re right. Sorry for making a fool of myself. I’ve just had an incredibly weird week.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

It occurs to you that perhaps Mike is angling for a nice tip. He was your taxi driver, after all. You fish out a ten dollar bill from your bag and hand it to him, taking the business card and sniffling quietly.

“Thanks again. Have a safe rest of your night.”

Wisps of the night air knocked at your ankles, the exposed skin of your arms, and you scolded yourself for not bringing a sweater. Your bag hung heavy at your shoulder, but you just stared down at the business card. Second Chances Animal Haven, the card read. Ask for Dominic – tell him Mike sent you!

As usual, the unexpected generosity of strangers is enough to make you weepy again, so instead you read the card aloud to yourself, digging absentmindedly for your keys as you head towards the back row of apartment units.

“Here at Second Chances, we believe animals and people deserve to be seen at their best. We’ve been proudly partnered with local rehab centers and addiction programs for twenty years to provide employment opportunities to convicted felons, or those reintegrating back into society. Are you or someone you know interested in volunteer or career information? Give us a call at three zero four…”

You trailed off, flipping the card over to assess the cute graphic of a man petting the head of a labrador, absolutely beaming. The dog’s fuzzy snout brought tears to your eyes, and you wanted to scream at yourself, why does everything make me so goddamned emotional? It made you feel so puny and vulnerable, being affected like this.

“Stupid card. Stupid drawing. Stupid tequila, stupid fucking –”

Your embroiled utterances fell flat as if smashed into a wall, your eyes slamming shut instantaneously, registering that you’d just ran straight into something bigger than yourself, something moving –

Something wearing long, chocolate brown corduroy sleeves, expert tailoring obvious even under the flickering sidewalk lamp; something waiting at the bottom of the steps leading up to your unit.

The hard thud of your foot railing against a solid surface drowns out when you fumble backwards, nearly tripping onto your ass, your eyes widening at the speed of light when your vision focuses and drains of moisture.

There was no mistaking it. Waiting at the stoop with what appeared to be… five or six baby blue suitcases (each embroidered delicately with swooping, elegant ‘K’ headings) of varying sizes all stacked up against one another, was Ken, who towered above you, clouded in the veiling mist of the summer evening air.

Through the shadow his piercing blue eyes met yours, startled like a baby deer and even more innocent looking.

Were you hallucinating this? Was this really Ken, standing right in front of you, clad in brown and stunning, silky mustard orange pants that felt otherworldly in its softness, though your arm had only grazed it?

Etched into the face he gives you is instinctive surprise, as if the last thing he thought would wander around the corner was you. You drop the business card to the ground, don’t watch its descent as it flutters down to the sidewalk. Clutched under Ken’s left arm is a thick folder (maybe a book?) filled to the brim with papers stacked neat and horizontal.

For a sickening pause that lasts thousands of centuries, you wonder if Ken’s here to tell you off. To tell you that he was only dropping by before his departure, that he was going far away and only wished to tell your guinea pig goodbye for posterity.

You couldn’t have blamed him. In fact, you would have understood. I deserve that, you tell yourself, but Ken doesn’t say those awful things. He bends at the waist and plucks the business card you dropped, holds out his arm to return it. It’s then that you remember to breathe, remember to say something, and it’s then that you notice Ken’s gripping a bouquet of flowers in his right hand, pink and white thick petals wrapped in yellow that repel the light landing on them.

Ken’s so tall above you, his legs so lean through his almost sheer pants, and you swear you can make out the swells of his kneecaps, the curve of his hip. The incline of muscle in his neck works as he cocks his head slightly, eyes persistent, dancing and twining with yours under the moon, the feeble crackle of the dying, cheap lamp.

Handfuls of silvering blonde hair tumble down across Ken’s tender eyes as he waits patiently for you to take the card. Blinking is an uphill battle. Moving your lips to form a sentence is some sort of sisyphean curse that you’re unsure of how to break.

“I – I’m. Ken. You’re.”

Unflappable, Ken elects to hold off on exchanging the card, and slips it into his pocket. Instead, he takes a brave step forward, and like he’s rehearsed this a thousand times on the sidewalk, puts on his most hopeful smile, extending his pristine hand that holds the flowers that you are starting to suspect might be plastic. Shrouds of crickets kick up their serenade around the both of you.

“(Y/N). These are for you. I tried relentlessly to keep them perfect on my way here, but you would not believe how difficult it is to stop objects from floating while you’re in a spacesuit, I will tell you that much right now.” You hear his heartfelt words but all you can stare at is his face, every inch of him that you can see, the imperceptible flat of his cheekbones, the angular jut of his chin, all of him so illuminated and real and right in front of you.

“You came back.” It’s all you can manage to say. Like as if a prank had been pulled on you. Could it be the case – all these days of torture and self hatred and drinking yourself to sleep had been completely in vain?

Ken’s smirk widens, crinkling the lines of his cheek, but it just makes him look even more like a timeless painting of someone who once had been real. Boyish charm bled from his every move, his honeyed words, every response he could give you.

“Told you I would, didn’t I? Do you like them?” Ken nudges the bouquet even closer to your line of sight, practically begging you to accept them. “Barbie told me – sorry. My friend Barbie who is a florist told me that these are quintessential spring colors. I wanted purple ones too but Barbie said that wasn’t staying on theme.” Ken enunciates every word, relishing in sharing his newfound knowledge of flowers. They appear to be roses, as if they were somehow handcrafted, each one made painstakingly, lovingly.

Jolting at a realization, Ken raises his eyebrows hastily. “How could I forget? I also brought you a banana. From Barbieland! So that you can really understand what I’ve been working with my whole life.”

Something in the lowest part of your heart snaps entirely in half, and with fingers trembling like a leaf, you finally take the flowers from Ken, cautiously placing your nose to the tips.

By some sort of miracle, though they’re obviously not real, they smell exactly like roses.

“Riveting, aren’t they?” Ken’s adding, watching through his curled eyelashes to see how you like them, but he doesn’t notice the stinging tears that rush down your cheeks until you’re crushing the bouquet between the both of your bodies, impatient to feel him for yourself, just to affirm this is real.

The petals don’t budge or compress, they just twirl in different directions to accommodate the pressure, and the breath leaves Ken’s chest at once with the force of it. “(Y/N)? Tell me you’re not crying. The one thing I didn’t bring was a hanky with your name on it, which I was planning on having my friend Barbie who is a seamstress make for you, but my schedule was pretty tight. Here, let me just –”

There aren’t words for how you’re feeling, the relief, the overwhelming adoration, the incredulity that Ken had actually traveled all the way back for you, the sweetness of everything he’s telling you. It manifests as tears that race to escape your eyes and make you look even more disheveled than you already had been.

Ken carefully wipes at your cheeks with the edges of his jacket sleeves, folding the fabric over his thumbs like it’s brain surgery and he cannot afford to mess it up. Without asking permission, he sticks his hand out and tips your face up so it’s level with his. Gentle, so gentle, so endlessly attentive.

“Why are you crying, (Y/N)?” Your brain should be throttling ahead, formulating a cogent response, but all you want is to hold his shoulderblades in your shaking hands and feel his body flush against yours, make him feel what his presence is doing to you, how it’s making you breathe and sway, unsteady on your feet.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

Ken quirks his eyebrows, dusted blonde and light brown, like he’s taken a punch to the gut. His hands don’t move from their spot on your chin, affixed.

“You can’t be serious. When I accept an ultimatum, I never back down, and that’s a fact.” He seems to not mind the brazen tears and snot he’s wiped onto his (expensive looking) clothes, he just looks right down at you with a dizzying openness. Your fingers twitch around the stiff flowers where you’re still clamping them tight.

“I. I can’t. I didn’t know…”

“Look at me.” You don’t have the inner energy to fight him. Maybe it’s the liquor that’s rounded out the edges of your usually combative reflexes, or maybe it was the repressed emotional floodgates breaking, and suddenly you weren’t afraid for Ken to see what you’d really been feeling for him. The seeds you’d been sowing of your own destruction. “You really missed me that much? I thought you’d be working away like nothing ever happened.”

It’s Ken’s turn to feel flummoxed now, analyzing what you’d said, but you can’t allow him the time to rethink. To backpedal.

His chest rises and falls in rabbit-fast motions. You swear he smells like aftershave, but you can’t pinpoint the precise scent, just that it’s minty and pleasant. Ken’s body is like a barricade of warmth and there’s roses in between you and desire gnawed at your stomach like a profanity.

“Please. Please don’t leave again. I need you, Ken.”

“You – what?”

“I need you. I n-need you to be here, with me. Don’t leave again. I. I made myself sick without you. I have a two bedroom place, I don’t h-have to use it for storage, you can have your own room and everything, I’ll be the cleanest, tidiest person in the world. Just. Please, just. Just promise. Can you promise me that? Ken?” It’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating. There's so many things you could've led with: I may be able to help you get a job, I turned into a complete and utter hermit without you here, I think you may be the best thing that's ever happened to me, I've had so much to drink tonight I shouldn't even be standing. But no, it was mushy garbage that decided to tumble out and settle in the cool air.

You know that you should have shut yourself up after the first sentence, but once the first syllable let loose, there was no taking it back.

Ken continues to wipe at your face where you continue to cry, and he rests his chin quietly on top of yours, somehow managing to hold onto everything he’d been grasping and still making just as much room for you as you needed. Your words move Ken to the point that his pulse has quickened, and –

His pulse? Laying your browbone against his neck, just to see if you’d dreamt that forceful thrum of blood, Ken gives a submissive sigh for the contact. “I will never go anywhere ever again unless you want me to.”

“Your heart.” You mention, tucked against his frame but eyes wild with shock.

“I won’t even look out the window unless you think there’s something I should see.” Ken persists.

“Ken.”

“In fact, I think I’d be most comfortable just waiting for you to lay out what we’re doing every day, first thing, so I can get an adequate idea of –”

“Ken?” Your tone is sharp now, because he’s getting carried away – not that you weren’t receptive to his idea of what living together should look like.

“Yes, little firefly?” Ken muses, pulling you even closer to the front of his body.

“Your heart. It’s beating.”

#ken x reader #ryan gosling ken #ken #ryan gosling #barbie movie #ken x fem reader

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immortalmsmoon · 4 months

Note

Hello my wonderful friend :) I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving! :D

May I please request headcanons for Akira, Akechi, and Ann dating a famous female singer and how they would react to her ex showing up during an interview and frightening her?

Ex's and O's

Cast Line Up: Akira Kurusu, Goro Akechi, Ann Takamaki

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I really enjoyed writing this one!

Warnings: Mentions of Toxic Ex's, mentions of Toxic people

Word Count: 389

Akira~

Akira absolutely adores you, and he does everything in his power to make sure that you can be happy

he thinks your so amazing, the way that you can sing in front all those people, he doesn't think he could ever do that

praises you so much :)

he does everything in his way to make sure that ANY hate is blocked from your life. Nasty comments on your posts? he's deleting them. People hating on you in real life? best believe that messing around in the metaverse

as soon as your ex shows up? he's making sure you don't stray to far from him. not really in a possessive way, but juts because he doesn't want you to have to be close to him.

VERY straight forward with your ex, very blunt. no beating around the bush.

"Leave Y/n alone. don't speak to her, don't look at her, don't even think about her."

if he ends up being away from you, he takes the opportunity to speak one on one with your ex iykwim

Akechi~

tbh you being a famous singer is great for his reputation

he enjoys going on dates with you, and acting all cute n stuff, probably soft launches you on his socials because he doesn't want to expose to much about you, but still wants the world to know he is he taken

very helpful with your career, and great at giving advice.

he's delt with his fair share of fan girls/boys, and has great advice on how to avoid them and how to get them to go away

most of your dates consist of hanging out in his apartment and playing bored games, and ordering some sort of take out.

you occasionally go out, but because your both quite famous you usually go to quiet locations that aren't very busy.

as soon as he hears about anyone being even REMOTELY rude to you he is inspector gadgeting the heck out of them and finding out EVERY detail about there life.

if it progresses any worse, and they start taking physical action or are doing anything that scares you, he's taking a quick trip to the meta verse.

usually though, he stops anything bad from happening to you before it can get bad, and is quite good at sensing things like that. its like having a watch dog.

#persona 5 #persona 5 x reader #p5 #goro akechi #persona #akira #ren amamiya #goro akechi x reader #ren amamiya x reader

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heartfullofleeches · 11 months

Note

Vendetta confronts Y/N about someone who messaged them about whatever and ending the message by saying how much they love Y/N

Y/N: “Vendetta that’s.. That’s my mom??”

[slightly suggestive...ig?. He's such an asshole]

"Ring her up then."

"What?"

"Call ya mom, wanna introduce myself to her. Couple signatures on a paper and we'll be basically family sooner or later, anyway. Gotta make a good impression with the in-laws."

"Alright, give me a second-.. hey!" Dialing her number in, your phone's snatched as you go to put it to your ear. Vendetta eases against the back of the seat, dodging your advances and vain attempts to take back your phone with his free arm. The line clicks as he successfully wrangles your wrists in his hand; your stomach churning at the mischievous glint in his eye.

"Don't-

Vendetta blows you a small kiss, making sure the smack is audible - slipping on his customer service smile as he pulls his mouth up to the speaker. Holding a finger to his lips - he speaks.

"Hey, is this Y/n's mom? Afternoon, ma'am - name's Vendetta. Their boyfriend. I overheard you have some concerns with their recent lack of contact and I may know who's responsible for that. We've been going strong for a few months now, and our relationship is both the deepest and longest connection I've ever had with anyone before. I am dying to meet the woman who raised such an amazing person."

Your hands fall slack in his grasp. Maybe this won't be so bad...

"You're free this Saturday? Well that is just fantastic! I'm sure they'll be excited to see you and-... mmh."

Little did you know, that false sense of security was exactly what he wanted. To catch you when most vulnerable. Throwing his head back, Vendetta lets out a soft moan - spine arching with the draw of his breath. He looks up at you with a lidded eye, shoulders rising with a silent laugh.

Through clenched teeth, you hiss: "what the hell are you doing?"

Vendetta sits unfazed by the rage in your eyes. He bites his lower lip, teeth grazing your knuckles. His finger hovers over the mute button as his voice drops to a whisper, but it never falls. "Baby, I'm still on the phone. Lemme hang up before you- Ahh- shit.. Sorry Miss, we were in the middle of something when I dialed you by accident."

Jutting his leg outward, Vendetta kicks the table - rocking his heel against an uneven leg. He holds the phone closer to the source of the offbeat creaks as he pants and groans awhile you're shocked speechless still locked in his hold.

"We...get up to quite a lot actually. If they go no contact for a while, I sincerely hope you understand."

Vendetta gets nice and close to the phone with a final whimper before hanging up. He blocks the number for safe measure and slides the device in his back pocket as he lets you go. You've never seen a more punchable grin that the one he wears.

"Whelp, have fun explaining that in a day or two. Haven't decided when you'll get your phone back unless.....you want to come grab it yourself?"

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere imagines #yandere #Yandere magical boy #Vendetta my oc

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dollwritesarchive · 2 years

Text

𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝑒 ⎹ 𝓣.𝓘.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ jujutsu kaisen / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ toge inumaki x geto’s protege!reader ( f )

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ semi dark fic. you are responsible for your own media consumption. dub con ( unconscious people cannot consent ), somnophilia, groping, assisted!masturbation ( him ), fingering, needy!toge

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 2.7k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog & leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions. enjoy!

you’d heard the zipper, felt the shift of his feet directly behind you, and you’d spun around, eyes narrowed, daggers in both hands jutting for him. but you hadn’t expected his fists to grab your wrists, halting the sharpened blades mere inches from his exposed throat. or, perhaps, you hadn’t anticipated how strong he was. after all, it had been years since you and Toge sparred. had you forgotten, or had he gotten stronger?

your brows knit together, digging your boots into the dirt, pushing against him. his violet gaze pours into yours, begging you to stop. he didn’t have to say it; you could read it on his countenance. “Gonna hurt me, Toge?” you ask, gritting your teeth. his grip is tight around your wrists, but not tight enough to make you wince. you were straining, trying to break through the barrier of his strength and drive those cursed daggers into him. “I’m not going to stop,” you bark. not that you could, even if you wanted to. you can still hear Geto’s last words before he sent you into the forest in pursuit of Sukuna’s vessel. succeed, or die trying. if you come back empty handed, I’ll kill you myself. and then, he’d kissed your forehead like a proud father, and hurried you inside. “Not unless you kill me!” you ease up just a bit, only to double down, hoping the abrupt push of energy could force his guard down.

Toge’s lips are parted, but he’s hesitating. there’s a part of you, deep down, that wished he would just do it.

“Say it!” you screamed, pushing again. the blades graze his naked throat, drawing a single ruby each to the surface. “Break my arms! Send me deep into the bottom of the river! If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to kill—“

❝ Sleep. ❞

your eyes widen as the command registers; you’d never been on the receiving end of his technique, and yet? yet, you didn’t imagine it would feel like this. trying to fight the sudden drowsiness that overtakes you is fruitless, and you have the overwhelming urge to simply give in to it. you don’t want to beat it, you just need to rest. your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds each, and the daggers slip from your limp fingers and hit the solid ground with twin thuds. next to give in are your knees, buckling as you sag forward with naught to say but a puff of air hitting his cheek as the world around you bleeds into an abysmal dark.

Toge lurches forward to close the distance before you fall and hooks both arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight, protective hug. it’d been something he’s always wanted to do, but it felt strange right now. wrong. you were limp in his arms, feet turned in and dragging against the ground, your head lolling to one side. he frowns, easing you down to lay you on your back. once squatting beside you, he sighs, and looks around. the others would probably need his help.

so, why couldn’t he leave you there?

he told himself it was because there were too many curses on the loose, and leaving anyone unconscious would make him a villain, but deep down he knew that wasn’t why. and his violet eyes didn’t dart the circumference of the tree line to ensure that none would sneak up on the two of you. they did so to confirm that there were no witnesses— that you and him were completely alone.

he slumps on to his knees, and admires your countenance, his fingertips brushing back the hair that threatened to obstruct his view of it. he’d always found you so fetching— the softness of your features, your lashes that fanned out against your skin when your eyes were closed, the dip of your nose, the supple flesh of your cheeks, the curve of your lips…

Toge realizes he’s breathless, staring at your mouth. so many times you’d fixed those tiers to swear at him, to threaten him, and they would turn down in a tight-lipped frown when you were frustrated that you couldn’t beat him. but there was something more— times Toge could remember where those lovely lips tickled your cheeks, pulling upwards when he used to make you laugh so hard your eyes would water, or every time you crooned to him, “Inumaki-Senpai~!” and he lost his train of thought every. single. time. you always had that effect on him— you made it impossible for him to focus on anything else but you, even right now. his digits delve downwards, tracing your cheek until they careen over the edge of your jaw and finally reach your lips. he traces them, slowly, and stares, shoulders bunching up when he leans closer.

what was he doing?

his heart was racing, breath shaky on your lips as he inches closer.

Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be this close to you?

he wished he could say it out loud, but he supposed it didn’t matter; you weren’t awake to hear it. pressing his forehead to yours, he closes his eyes and inhales your closeness, the smell of you

If you were awake, would you want me to be this close?

his eyelids flutter when they part, staring at your closed ones. his lips were trembling, ghosting over yours when they do.

Would you tell me to stop, or would you… ask me to kiss you?

he’d always wanted to, and maybe he had the chance on more than one occasion before you disappeared. maybe there had been a handful of times that he considered grabbing you by the shoulders, and kissing you with so much passion it would make the pair of you dizzy, but when you looked at him, eyes twinkling, he always lost his nerve.

now, however, it was almost as if he couldn’t stop himself from closing what little distance there was between your slightly parted lips and his. his hand glides down to hold your jaw steady, his other hand planted in the dirt beside your head. he needs to taste you so badly it’s causing knots in his stomach, and so the first real union of your lips is unceremonious. he simply presses his to yours, his eyes shut tight. it isn’t how he wanted it to be; you weren’t conscious to kiss him back, you wouldn’t throw your arms around his neck and pull him closer or smile against his lips— but he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss; prying your lips further apart to shove his tongue inside, breathing hot puffs of air into your mouth as he shifts on his knees to get closer.

I’ve always wanted this.

I’ve always wanted you.

your taste was so addicting and Toge hated himself for getting lost in it. panting as he kissed you, his palm drops to rest against the top of your chest, feeling your heartbeat underneath it. he’d wished it would pound as hard as his was. instead, it was thumping steadily, evenly. he knew that he shouldn’t, but it was almost as if his hand moved downward of its own volition, acting out his deepest desire before he could stop it— he grabs a fist full of your breast through your uniform top and whines when he feels the mound give, squish against his palm. you were so fucking soft, just like he always imagined you would be.

Closer.

More.

he needed to feel your skin against his, and the hand steadying your face drops to join the other in gripping the hem of your shirt, tugging it upwards, panting into your mouth and kissing you more fervently. your bra is forced up along with the ruched fabric, bunched up under your chin. breasts jiggling from his roughness now that they’re free, he sucks on your tongue, both palms kneading your chest. he wanted to grind into you, the sensation of your silken flesh against his hands for the first time hardening his manhood against his thigh, but he was in the wrong position for that. he grunts, instead, shifting on his knees to get as close to you as possible.

I wish you could feel me, too. I want you to feel me.

Toge’s mouth travels down, past your sagging couplet, and over your chin. his breath is raspy and desperate when he latches on to your throat. his teeth and lips create a seal, and he suckles on your skin until he draws it up into a thick welt, the shape of his teeth wet with saliva when he moves to another, fresh section of flesh to do the same. but he’s not uniform— he’s too hasty, too needy, and the marks are scattered. he wasn’t thinking clearly; not about what you might think happened when you finally woke up to find your neck and chest littered with lovebites. he didn’t care if you knew it was him, not right now. his open mouth drags the edge of his teeth over the pleats in your shirt and bra, inhaling the smell of your perfume that clings to the fabric until they reach your breasts. his hands are reluctant to let go, but his lips are too greedy, and nudge them away, one falling to grab your wrist, whilst the other delves deep beneath the waistband of your shorts to press his first, two fingers against the cotton of your panties.

I need you to touch…

he brings your hand up, shoving it into his own waistband, shaping your delicate fingers around the shape of his hard on. he swoons; his knees would buckle if they weren’t already dug into the dirt. holding your fist together, steady at the base of his cock, Toge rocks his hips, falling into a greedy rhythm of fucking your hand.

Your hands are the softest. Touch me. Yes… Yes… Yes!

his teeth clamp down on your nipple, sucking to muffle his own pathetic moans, and the fingers between your legs rub the ever growing damp patch in your panties hard enough to coax a gurgled moan from your swollen lips. your lids contain your rolling eyes, his command too strong to allow you to wake up just yet, even with his uncouth treatment. still, your muscles jump, back trying to arch. Toge keeps his eyes trained on your face, even though they demand to close. it feels so good, but he wants to watch you.

You’re so… wet… fuck, I can’t stop… I need more!

digits curling around your panties, he jerks them to one side, stuffing his fingers all-too greedy inside. he wasn’t expecting the way your walls greeted his invasion, spasming around his fingers, clenching them tight, and he moans out loud, unable to muffle himself, tongue dragging along your engorged nipple.

It’s tight. It’s so damn tight!

you felt like a virgin, and there was something about the idea of being the first man to feel you like this sent him spiraling. he’d always fantasized about this— touching you in ways that no one else could. his hips buck violently, fucking your fist, longing to feel the squeeze of your cunt stretched over his cock instead of just his fingers. those digits curl, the lithe and searching for that sweet spot, pumping deep into you; if he could only think, maybe he’d try to be gentler, knowing that you might be sore when you finally woke, but his mind was a clean slate. you shift against his movements, pulsing around his fingers, and he knows he’s found it.

I need to see you cum. Need you to… before… before I…

but Toge couldn’t slow his pistoning hips, he couldn’t take the softness of your warm palm kissing every inch of his veiny girth, the tip already oozing sticky precum on to your fingers. his mouth searches, frantically, for yours, and his lips devour them. inaudible, he breathes the syllables of your name into your mouth, forming each one while sealed to your lips. he couldn’t speak it, he knew that, but he wanted so badly to cry out for you. a soft whimper dies at the threshold of your lips, your core quivers on instinct alone, and his eyes slit, gripping your hand around him tighter, pounding into your palm as his orgasm hits.

Cumming! I— I’m cumming! Please… yes… please…!!

his mind was screaming your name on repeat, his whimpers nothing more than mindless babble, forcing his tongue behind your teeth again. the fingers buried deep inside you stall, as do his hips, when he utterly falls apart, violet gems rolling back in his skull. his cum glazes your hand and his own, before bleeding a wet patch through his trousers, and he’s panting on your face, kissing you sloppy, his lips smearing saliva over your mouth, cheeks and chin. a shudder runs through his whole body as he slumps forward, laying against you long enough to try and catch his breath. his head rests against your exposed chest, and he listens to the steady thumping of your heart— his own like a ferocious drum.

when he finally pulls his fingers from between your thighs, he’s delighted to feel how you’ve soaked them, leaving webs of your desire wrapped around the digits that he stares at for a moment before bringing them to his mouth, sucking your taste off them.

Sweet. So sweet.

his cock twitches— the mere taste of your cunt enough to urge it back to attention, but he simply sighs, and sits up again, pulling your shiny hand from his pants. he stares at his cum on your fingers and his own, and sinks his teeth into his lower lip, before his eyes drift to your mouth. your tiers are swollen from how hard he’d kissed you, and wet with his spit.

Would you want to taste me, too?

Toge swallows hard, his fingers reaching for your couple. he drags the knuckle over your lower lip, smearing his release in a thin, milky ribbon over it, before slipping the finger inside to do the same on your tastebuds. another shudder.

Will the taste still be there when you wake up?

he hoped it would, because he couldn’t stay.

carefully, he pulls your bra back into place, followed by your top, and adjusts the skewed waistband of your shorts. the shame of what he did, and just how much he liked it, was starting to seep in. Toge pulls your jacket from each arm, folds it carefully, and lifts your neck at the nape so he’s able to slide the makeshift cushion beneath it, before he tucks your arms and legs in to the most comfortable position he could. you expel a quiet sigh that causes him to hesitate, and stare at your face.

Things should be different. I wish things were different.

but, Toge wasn’t stupid. he knew that you’d made your choices, and you were too proud to backtrack. he sighs, too, and plants a soft, loving peck to your forehead. then, he pulls himself to his feet, that seem to protest the idea of leaving you there alone, and pulls the zipper on his collar up, securing his mouth behind the barrier of fabric. he takes one last look back to make sure you’re okay as he nears the tree line.

If you ever decide to come back, run fast into my arms. Otherwise, please be safe from now on.

#inumaki toge #toge inumaki #toge x reader #toge x you #toge smut #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki smut #toge inumaki x you #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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seresinsbabe · 1 year

Note

Late to the party with writers block blurb request but…

Hangman getting cold feet at his wedding. He leaves only to find reader has gotten cold feet also. Seeing the other has walked out leads to angry semi public sexy times and the realisation that the wedding itself got out of hand, not that they don’t want forever together. They elope outside the venue 👰🏻‍♀️🤵🏼

there's no such thing as late to my parties <3

Warnings: discussion of weddings, discussion of cold feet, smut, PinV, unprotected sex, daddy kink, fluff

"Can't believe you were-ungh- going to run out on me." Jake huffed as he thrust into you. Your dress was bunched up at your waist, shrouding you a poof of material that was a little too white for you to be wearing.

Only minutes ago you had been deep in a whisper fight with your soon-to-be husband after catching him trying to escape the wedding. Had you been doing the same thing? Yeah, but that didn't give him the right to do that same.

"D-don-fuuuck daddy...act lik-" you words were cut off by another moan. Keeping quiet was proving to be far more difficult than it should be. "You weren't doing the same." You whined breathlessly.

Jake's bowtie was undone and his dress shirt unbuttoned just enough for you to run your nails down his chest. Angry red scratches and teeth marks decorated his tits.

He changed the angle of his thrusts. His cock hitting the the spot that made you see stars and before you knew it you were hitting that high. Jake's mouth came crashing down on yours, swallowing each cry. No reason for anyone to find you two in a compromising position such as this in the church office.

His hips started to jutting erratically as he hit his own high. Coating your walls with thick roped of cum. He pulled away, pressing soft kisses along your jawline and cheeks.

"I love you," you whimpered. Your arms had snaked around his shoulders and pulled him to you tightly. "So, so much and I want to marry you but I can't do this wedding." You buried your heavily dolled up face into the crook of his neck.

"Sweets, I was only going along with this because I thought you wanted a big to do. I don't care if discount Elvis marries us. I just want you." Jake pulled the veil out of your hair and tossed it haphazardly somewhere.

A strangled laugh found its way out of your throat at the image of some overweight and less than sober Elvis impersonator sending the two of you into marital bliss.

From the hall you could hear your mother calling out for you and sent your feet freezing again. A big wedding had been her idea and in your attempt to constantly seek your approval you went along with it.

"Let's run." You whispered, pulling Jake's gaze towards you. "Let's go do this our way." That cocky grin you loved oh so much pulled at his lips.

You waited for the sound of your mother's voice to disappear and then you were both making a run for it. Dashing out the back door of the church and over to Jake's truck.

Cold feet now red hot.

#jake seresin fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun fic #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin blurb

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crusty-chronicles · 8 months

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Not So Bad (Hiei x Apprentice Reader)

Part 1

Synopsis: The gang find a small, frazzled reader after being sent to stop a demon trafficking ring. Upon arriving to the location, they quickly realized everyone was dead, everyone except you. Reader is taken in and becomes attached to a particular demon with three eyes.

An: maybe it's because I've recently watched Nimona, but I absolutely live for the 'Scruffy Hard-ass man going soft and adopting a daughter' trope. Might explain my obsession with Dilfs 💀

*****************

When Yusuke originally took this case on for Koenma, he thought it'd be a little like when they went to rescue Yukina from Terukinae. But he was quickly proven wrong the deeper they all went into the estate.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Stop some rich assholes from trafficking demons in order to keep the peace between Demon World and The World of the Living.

There was just so much blood.

The coppery smell was so strong even Kurama with his advanced senses couldn't pick up on anything else. And the bodies, God the bodies. It seemed like everyone they came across was horribly mutilated.

Like everybody was already dead before they got there.

Hiei used his Jagan to try to find any survivors, but even he struggled to locate any life energy.

Then they all heard a noise.

A small scuttling sound, but it was there, and as they turned a corner they saw a smaller being leaning against the wall.

Said being was caked in a crimson liquid. In their hands was a small dagger. And they looked...scared?

"What the hell happened here?" Yusuke mumbled out, catching the demon's(?) attention.

They immediately tensed up and held their weapon out in front of them.

"Did you do this?" Yusuke tried a little softer and took a step forward.

"Stay back! Just stay away from me!" They were shaking now as they jutted out the dagger a little more. Judging from the sound of their voice, they were pretty young.

A scared demon was never a good sign.

Kurama, the least intimidating looking, thought he'd have a little more success calming them down. He gestured for Yusuke to back away.

"We're not here to hurt you. We just want to know what happened here, if you'd be so willing to tell us?" His words did little to relax the frazzled demon, but at least they didn't make you any more scared.

"We shouldn't be wasting our time with this. We should just kill them since they've clearly shown themselves as a threat," Hiei commented.

Your eyes widened and the stiff pose you had became aggressive.

"Please just go away! I don't wanna hurt anyone else, so please just leave!" You were near tears by this point.

"Way to go Hiei, you made em' worse," Kuwabara grumbled.

"Giving them sympathy will make it easier for them to kill you."

Kurama blocked out their bickering in favor of taking a tentative step towards the now teary-eyed demon.

"So you did do this?"

They pointed their dagger in his direction.

"They did it first! They always-! They always-!" The demon shook their head as if trying to clear it. "They always hurt me first." Their voice lowered, along with their guard.

Kurama took another step forward.

"You were their prisoner, correct? Well, you're safe now. We came here to help by order of Spirit World. Do you know what that is?"

Another step.

The small demon nodded, weapon lowered slightly. But they didn't get aggressive as Kurama neared.

A good sign.

"We promise we won't hurt you. Don't mind what Hiei says, you were just trying to protect yourself, weren't you? It'll be okay, just let us help."

They didn't notice the plant blooming behind them, much less the sleep toxin it produced. But what they did notice was their eyes getting droopy. They struggled to take in the fox demon's words, Kurama's voice lulling them to sleep.

★★★★

You awoke on a surprisingly comfortable surface. Opening your eyes, you found yourself in an unfamiliar room. The last thing you remembered was the red headed demon....

You shot up from the soft surface and scooched back until you were flush against the wall. Sure enough, there was that same demon along with the other ginger haired boy.

Were they going to kill you after all?

You stared with scared eyes at the two of them.

"Did you have a good rest?" The red haired one asked.

You looked around the small room, trying to find the other two from before. They didn't seem to be here. Your frightened eyes met the fox demon's.

You shook slightly as you spoke.

"Where am I?"

The human was the one who decided to answer your question.

"My house. You're lucky my sister doesn't mind letting you stay here for now."

You tilted your head in confusion.

"House?"

He lived here? They brought you to a home. Not a cell.

The human nodded.

"Yeah. Which reminds me, are ya hungry?"

Your guard lowered just a smidge, back moving slightly away from the wall. You were not expecting this. Shelter and food? There had to be a catch. No humans were ever this kind to you.

"Why?"

They both seemed a little caught off guard by your question.

"What do you mean 'why'? Did you think we would just leave you there or something? We're not like those other guys that locked you up, got it!"

You flinched away as the human pointed his finger out. He looked between himself and you, concern etched into his face.

"Geez, what did they do to you?"

You shook your head rapidly. You didn't want to think about that right now. You didn't want to remember everything that happened.

"Perhaps we should give them some time before we question them." Kurama could see your discomfort start to rise. It was best to let you relax and take your time adjusting. Whatever had set you off before they found you, he wanted to make sure never happened again.

Spirit World would not be so lenient if you happened to act out again.

"Now then, how about we get you fed and cleaned up, little one?"

★★★★

With a little more coaxing, you had completely lowered your guard and followed the duo deeper into the house.

True to their word, you were sat at a table with a plate of something placed in front of you. The scent coming from it was sweet and it's shape a circle.

How bizarre

You lifted one of them up to get a better sniff. You couldn't smell any poison. At least, none of which you were familiar with.

Carefully, you took a bite.

This....

This was heavenly.

The next few seconds were of you stuffing your face with the remainder of the food on your plate. It was a funny sight to see.

You ate using purely your hands, the utensils left out going untouched. You also didn't chew after your first bite. Each pancake practically being swallowed whole. They only stopped you when you went to eat the plate because 'they're both circles, so they should both taste the same.'

"Hey! You'll die if you eat that!" The human scolded. He yoinked the plate out of your hands before you could bite down.

You frowned up at him and made grabby gestures with your hands. His resolve broke almost immediately.

"Okay, okay! I'll make you some more. Don't cry."

And a part of you softened at his unintentional words.

Don't cry

They didn't want you to be upset.

Maybe they didn't want to hurt you after all.

You felt something soft being wiped across your face. Looking to your left, you saw the fox demon with a piece of white cloth.

"You're a messy one, aren't you?" There was something teasing in his tone. Despite that, his eyes showed nothing but kindness.

You let him wipe your face once more before speaking.

"Where are the other two?"

You weren't too scared of the greasy one, but the other demon.... He made you weary. He did say they should've killed you.

"Yusuke went to inform the ruler of Spirit World about what happened. And Hiei," there was a slight pause as if the fox were thinking of something.

"Hiei returned back to Demon World since he has no obligation to stay anymore."

You were back to frowning. Maybe a small part of you thought it was unfair you couldn't return home too.

"He was the one who wanted me dead." Your voice was quiet.

"Don't mind him, he's just a big jerk!" The human shouted from his place at the stove. Your mood lightened slightly.

He was just a jerk. Yeah. He wasn't evil, just mean. And if all four of them weren't like the others, then you supposed you could trust them.

At least for now.

"I remember my name from before." You mumbled.

"Do you mind telling us then? I'd be nice to have something to call you while we wait for further orders." The fox encouraged.

You decided then you liked these two. They were nice. They didn't hurt you. And now that you thought about it, your previous wounds were all healed.

"I'm Y/n."

★★★★

After a lengthy discussion with Koenma, (which was really Yusuke making the case that you were just a kid who had probably been tortured beyond belief) it was decided that you'd be under the group's care to ensure no further harm was caused.

They were to make sure you never killed another human, lest you risk the wrath of King Yamma.

You would be swapped around between the four of them to enforce this policy. And even though the threat of what you did was still very much fresh in their minds, they just couldn't believe that you'd do it again.

When Yusuke watched you, you were always laughing at his stupid jokes. Always smiling when he'd pick you up onto his shoulders to carry you wherever he went. Always embarrassed when he would brag to the moms at the park.

"My kid's better than yours. They don't bite and pick their nose." Followed by offended gasp from the mothers.

When Kurama watched you, you would tell him everything that happened that day or the day before. You'd seek him out for comfort if you had nightmares and woke up crying. You would hold his hand when something startled you.

"It's okay little one, nothing will ever harm you again."

When Kuwabara was with you, you were babied and spoiled. Always out shopping for new clothes and shoes because 'You've grown an inch since the last time. We can't have you wearing clothes that are too small for you.' Always feeding you and watching your eyes light up when he slipped you a piece of candy. You'd always let him ruffle your hair and beam when he praised you.

"Look at you! You're all skin and bones, Did Yusuke even bother to feed you!?! You're lucky you have an awesome brother like me to take care of ya!"

And Hiei...

When Hiei would watch you, he would simply observe you from the trees. He'd watch you sit in silence and pluck the grass. He'd watch you startle at any noise that was too loud. You never talked to him, never asked anything, never looked him directly in the eye.

You were always silent and scared.

"What a pathetic excuse of a demon."

The conclusion drawn by all four: you weren't a threat to anybody. You'd had a slip up, but it was out of fear rather than aggression. You were completely harmless.

★★★★

Out of the four of them, Hiei couldn't give a damn about you at all. He didn't understand the other's softness. He understood their sympathy, but not why they bothered keeping you around. The mission was over and the observation was complete.

You were weak and skiddish. Afraid of your own shadow and any new faces. Too pathetic to even be called a demon. Too frail to ever lift a weapon and strike.

You were no longer their responsibility.

Just a burden. One that he would not worry about anymore.

Or at least that was what he told himself until the responsibility was once again forced upon him.

Yusuke had a special mission for Spirit World that he just couldn't get out of.

Kurama was having family over that would surely be suspicious of the smaller being attached to his hip.

Kuwabara was being forced to attend some out of state event with his sister.

All of these events would take a week at the least, and a month at worst.

Which left Hiei....

The demon who momentarily thought to dump you off at Genkai's.

It was thanks to that damn Detective's taunt that he hadn't.

"What's wrong three-eyes? Can't look after a kid for a few days? Scared because they're stronger than you?"

And damn his pride for falling for it. But even though he was forced to care for you, he would not be forced to stay in the human world when he did it.

You would come to Demon World with him so he could fulfill his proper duties.

★★★★

He half listened to Kuwabara's rant of what you could and couldn't eat. That oaf was too attached to you.

He didn't pay any attention when Yusuke told him what would make you smile and laugh. What possible reason did he have for remembering that?

But he did listen when Kurama pulled him aside to talk before he left.

"Their safety is the first priority. Do not let anything happen to them." There was a flicker of gold in his eyes. You had too much importance in their lives.

He took off with you the day after. But not without giving a warning of 'If you're too weak to keep up, I won't come back for you.'

You nodded, but kept silent. At least he wouldn't have to worry about listening to any idiotic ramblings.

The journey to Demon World was quiet. Too quiet, with the occasional sound of your missteps behind the three eyed demon. Not a word was spoken. If he hadn't felt your presence besides him, he would have assumed you weren't there.

Good.

You wouldn't be snot nosed brat and give him trouble.

But as the two of you reached the entrance, the lingering silence was disrupted.

"I haven't been home in a long time...Do you think my friends will remember me?"

It might've been the first words you ever spoke directly to Hiei. They were soft but hopeful. And if he had been anyone else, he would've assured you. Would've let you carry on the conversation and engaged.

But he wasn't.

And truthfully, your question irked him. Didn't you know it was survival of the fittest here? And friends? Demons didn't have friends. You were a naive dope who wouldn't make it five seconds by yourself.

"They're probably all dead if they're anything like you." Weak like you.

You didn't speak anymore after that.

You looked upset, but didn't cry. You just continued to follow Hiei to Mukuro's territory.

★★★★

You'd forgotten how thick the air was here. How tense it felt with the spirit energies clashing for dominance. You wished you'd stayed behind at the strong old lady's house now. Home didn't really feel like home anymore with the amount of time you spent in the world of the living.

Not only that, but you were in a foreign place with a demon who you were also unfamiliar with.

It wasn't exactly your fault. Hiei had never really been welcoming to you. He'd never really been nice either. You figured it was best to stay out of his way and vice versa. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't want to kill you anymore.

Maybe he'd be a little nicer.

But it just felt like he hated you even more for sticking around.

You looked up at the makeshift building he led you in. It was huge with walls that seemed to stretch forever. It made sense, you supposed, for a former Demon King to still be so well off. And while a compound like this housed many demons, you never felt more alone with your own kind.

One familiar face that belonged to a stranger.

You didn't like it here.

But you couldn't voice that opinion. You didn't want Hiei to think any less of you than he already did. Because then, the others might start to hate you too. So you sucked it up and persevered.

You stood right next to the three eyed demon as he conversed with Mukuro. Both of them catching up on the current events surrounding the Maki Barrier, and how to decrease the amount of humans trickling in. You'd never seen him this friendly before. The scowl that you thought was permanent had practically vanished.

He really did hate you, didn't he?

"So who's this little one? A new recruit?" Mukuro lightly jested.

There was a scoff before Hiei answered.

"A nuisance that I'm unfortunately stuck with. They're of no help here, so try to ignore them."

"Don't be so crass. I'd expect you to be kinder considering you have a little sister of your own." The former ruler scolded.

You hardly registered she kneeled down in front of you until she started talking. She most likely wanted to address you eye to eye.

"What is your name, if you don't mind me asking?"

You almost answered, but you thought against it. You'd only be here for a few days. After that you were never coming back here. You'd jump into the arms of whoever was back first and let them comfort you. Be able to feel safe and content again.

"Don't feel like talking? Well that's alright. Can you fight?"

You shook your head.

"No? Then it's best you stay here for the time being while we're gone. We have important work to do and it'd be a shame to be distracted. Can you fend for yourself, or do you need a guard accompanying you?"

You raised a finger up, signaling the first option. She smiled at you before getting up. And when you looked over towards the other demon, you could see him scowling again.

"We'll be off, let's go." Mukuro ordered.

Hiei let her go for a second before addressing you.

"Stay put. I won't go looking for you if you disappear. And stay out of trouble."

You didn't understand why he had to be so mean all the time. Nevertheless, you nodded. Sitting up against the wall and watching him head off.

Now you truly were alone.

Perhaps if you had one of those rectangular human devices, you'd be able to communicate with Kurama. Ask for advice on what you should do here. Or just convince him to come get you.

Maybe you could've convinced Yusuke to take you with him. At least then you'd be laughing the whole time. You wouldn't feel as small as you did now.

You should've asked Kuwabara to stay with you. He probably would have folded immediately. But you didn't want to do that. He wanted to spend time with his own flesh and blood. Who were you to take that from him?

You shook the thoughts from your head. There was nothing you could do about it now. You'd just have to wait things out.

And wait them out you did.

For hours.

Watching the daylight slowly dwindle down.

Just how long had you been waiting?

Your eyes drifted shut.

"Hey! Hey brat! Wake up!"

They snapped open at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. You were met with the sight of a group of demons. Hostile demons. Who lifted you up by the collar of your shirt.

"You're Hiei's pet, aren't you? One of the ones who saves those filthy humans instead of feasting on them? The disgraceful bastard."

Your first instinct was to call for help. But you knew nobody would hear you here. Nobody would care. So you struggled and kicked your legs.

"Quit it! Why don't we show that traitor what happens when you go against the natural order of things?"

The other surrounding demons laughed and nodded vigorously.

★★★★

A whole day. Hiei spent the whole day out there sending humans back through the barrier. A whole day dealing with those idiots and erasing their memories.

Maybe he should have let you come. It had to be the most irksome and repetitive task he's ever done. Simple and easy.

And maybe he had been a little cruel with you. But you were a demon. You shouldn't be acting like a wimp. You needed to grow up and deal with it. Softness only led to injury here.

Which reminded him....

Where the hell were you?

You weren't at the spot he left you at. Didn't he tell you not to move. Why of all times you chose to be disobedient, he didn't know. You always did what you were told. So why now were you being a brat and hiding.

He undid the bandage on his forehead and opened his Jagan, using it to search the compound for you. Room by room, hallway by hallway.

But he couldn't sense you.

And only then did ice run through his veins. You weren't here. He left you and told you to stay put, and now you were gone.

Did you run away?

No, you loved the others. You'd want a way to go back to them.

Did you leave to find him?

No, you didn't like Hiei as far as he knew.

So what could it be?

What could have possibly explained your disappearance?

Were you taken?

No.

That couldn't be it. Because if it was, he was screwed.

It would be his fault.

Whatever the hell had happened to you...

If you were dead or injured, it was his fault.

And he knew the others would never forgive him for it. Hell, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if your body was found somewhere. He said he would watch over you. He gave his word you would come back unharmed.

You were just a child.

And if you were dead....

He made his way outside and used his Jagan to search for any trace of you. Anything that would give him a clue to where you were. He got wind of a spike of spirit energy.

His body already on the move towards it. And in his third eye, he saw you screaming. He pushed his limits as far as they would go to get there faster.

★★★★

He didn't know what to expect when he got there. But it wasn't this. A sight he never thought he'd see again.

You were splattered with blood, but alive. The demons around you were dead or on the verge of it. You were backed against a tree with your dagger jutted out. Tears streaming down your face while you shook uncontrollably.

He tried to approach you, but you just cried harder and curled in on yourself. Mind so frantic, you didn't recognize him. Or maybe you did and you just didn't want him near you.

He really shouldn't have been that cruel to you.

There was nothing he could do about that now. He needed to bring you back, but as he took another step towards you, you lashed out at him.

Taking a precise swing he barley avoided. A warning to keep back. Just like the one you gave back at that trafficking ring. You were cutthroat like this. Fear making you stronger.

Despite his reluctance, he used his Jagan to put you to sleep. The only other option besides knocking you out. You'd been through enough today. Kurama would deal with the rest. You liked him the best anyways.

He picked you up carefully and quickly made his way back towards the barrier. The sooner you got out of here, the better it was for everyone.

What was it that detective said? Try to make you laugh? He couldn't do that. He doubted you would have listened anyways if he tried.

The oaf! What was it about you and food? You liked the sweet concoctions the humans made. The ones that would turn your teeth to dust. But there was no way you would ever take anything from him.

And Kurama? He was incapable of showing the same softness that fox did. Of being that vulnerable. He had a feeling he'd just make it worse.

The only thing he could do now was keep you under until he reached Genkai's little shack. Then he'd be able to get Kurama to deal with you.

The small home was in sight. He pushed himself a little further as the sun peaked over the mountains. Making rapid knocks against the door frame until it slid open.

"What do we have here? I don't suppose you're here to see Yukina?" The old lady greeted.

Then she noticed the frantic state Hiei was in. The stoic demon had lost his composure. And in his arms was a smaller being who looked to be having nightmares.

"Whatever you did, good luck explaining that to the other three boys."

★★★★

Kurama was furious to say the least upon spying Hiei outside. You weren't with him, which meant one thing.

"What happened?" Emerald eyes flashing an eerie golden.

"I'll explain on the way. They aren't harmed physically, but I...I don't know how to handle this."

That was all it took for the fox demon to rush over. Eyes falling on your curled up form when he got there with Hiei following suit.

Puu had you enveloped in his feathers. Making soft cooing sounds at you while you thrashed in your sleep. Trying to calm you down. He was part of Yusuke's soul after all.

The Phoenix hissed as Hiei and Kurama approached.

"It's okay. Let me help them, then they're all yours until Yusuke gets back." Kurama coaxed, inching towards where you were sleeping.

Puu begrudgingly sat still and let him get closer. A type of flower bloomed from Kurama. He held it up to your nose, and all at once your body went limp. Relaxing against the nightmares that plagued your mind.

He lightly moved around your face, checking for any injuries. There were none. He released you and let Puu tuck you back in.

The next few days the process would repeat. Kurama would soothe you whenever you started thrashing around in your sleep. And Hiei would watch from the side, guilt starting to consume him.

You didn't deserve this.

You had never done anything to directly spite him.

And the one time you tried to talk to him, he dismissed you.

He was only hard on you because he wanted you to stop being weak. He wanted you to be strong and stop getting scared by everything. Turns out you were just scared of him.

When you awoke a few more days later, Kurama pushed for him to leave. To give you some space to adjust. And while he physically left the room, he still kept his Jagan on you.

"Are you okay?" Kurama asked.

You shook your head and started crying. You were pulled into a hug by the fox demon. Sobbing into his stomach as you remembered what happened.

"If you want, I can make those bad memories disappear. If you don't want to see them anymore, then you don't have to."

And you shook your head once again.

"I-hiccup- don't wanna forget. I don't like what happened, but forgetting is even worse!" Your words barley comprehensible, but understood nevertheless.

"Okay. Just try to relax for now. Kuwabara and Yusuke will be back soon."

That seemed to calm you down for the time being.

And it was then Hiei realized you were not as weak as he had previously thought. You were bearing the burden of what happened. Something that you didn't even verbalize to Kurama. You'd also managed to defeat all those demons by yourself without being injured. Your power unpredictable than what you'd been showing these past few months.

He doubted you would forgive him, but if you did, then he would train you to protect yourself. Give you better control of your strength so you'd be ready if this ever happened again. It would never happen again.

Maybe then this awful feeling would finally go away. The feeling that had him lingering here instead of attending to his duties in the Demon World. The one that made him feel like scum everytime he caught sight of you.

★★★★

Safe to say, Yusuke and Kuwabara were not happy when they got back. Both fussing over you with the former wrestling you away from his spirit beast.

"What happened? Whose ass do I have to kick?!?!"

You shook your head and looked away from him. It was just like when they had first met you. All that progress of having you come out of your shell gone.

"You don't look so great. How about I take you back to mine and I'll cook you up a big dinner? You can take all the blankets if you want, too."

But despite Kuwabara's encouragement, you still shook your head.

"Wanna stay here. It's safe." You finally responded.

"You sure?"

You nodded this time.

You really didn't feel safe being out in the open again. And you had no doubt Hiei already told them it was all your fault. He was probably waiting to chew you out for not staying put.

"Well in that case, guess I'm sleeping over. What about you?" Kuwabara's question directed at the greasy haired boy.

"My mom won't give a damn either way. I'm good to be here for a few days. Which reminds me...."

He pulled a small penguin plushie from his bag.

"I got this for you, you little squirt. Hug it tight and it'll get rid of all your nightmares."

You took the toy from his hand and immediately squeezed it in a hug. It took all of about five seconds before you started crying.

"Hey! What's wrong!?!?"

"I love it so-hiccup-much!!!"

You were bonked softly on the back of your head.

"You had me going for a second...Now, give me names and addresses. Somebody needs to pay for making my kid cry."

"I'm with ya, Urameshi! Let's teach em' a lesson!"

You were finally able to crack a smile after that.

★★★★

So it began again. The three of them volunteering to stay with you while you rested at Genkai's. A certain three eyed demon watching from afar. No longer upset by your presence, but worried.

You were okay now, but if something like that happened again, Spirit World would surely do something about it. You were already under enough scrutiny as it was.

Right now, you were currently conversing with Yukina, of all people. Both of you talking in hushed tones.

"It's nice to have another person around. Genkai's nice, but it's not the same."

You nodded at her words.

"Yeah, I like the others but they can be rowdy at times. It's nice talking."

You decided you liked her.

But her eyes looked familiar. Like Hiei's.

But there was no way.

Right?

"Why did you leave the demon world? Don't you miss your family?" You asked.

"I left to find my brother. He was cast into the sea by our people. As for them, well... They were too set in their ways. Hearts as cold and frozen as our land. I didn't want to be apart of that anymore."

You put a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh. I'm sorry for asking."

Yukina smiled at you with a soft expression.

"Don't be. That chapter of my life is closed now. Though I do still hope to come across my brother one day... What about you? Where is your family?"

"I was taken from them by some humans a few decades back. They trapped me and...It wasn't pleasant, what they did to me. But they're gone now. That part of my life is closed too. Now I'm beginning again with people who treat me with so much kindness, it feels like I'm dreaming."

You two had more in common than Hiei would have liked.

He really shouldn't have been so cruel to you.

It was decided. He was going to train you. Maybe swallow his pride and apologize.

It wouldn't be easy convincing the others, but he was going to try. The first obstacle was Kuwabara. That oaf wouldn't let him near you without a fight. And while he understood, it was for your own good.

"N-O! The answer is no. Last time we left you alone with them, they were kidnapped!!!"

"They need to get stronger."

"No they don't! We'll protect them from anything that happens!"

"You weren't there the last time."

It was like arguing with a brick wall. Eventually it circled back to him and Yusuke being the ones that would train you. To which Hiei brought up the point they'd be too soft with you. They'd hold back and go easy.

It was enough.

The next obstacle was Yusuke. Whose first response was to fight at the suggestion. Another troublesome task to deal with.

"You didn't even like them a few weeks ago! Why the hell should we trust you again!!!"

"You can check up on them."

"Like that puts me at ease! You'd be too rough with them! They're just a little kid!"

And Hiei has to bring up the point of your power going unchecked. If spirit world found out about this, you'd probably be executed. But if you learned to control yourself, that possibility would never happen. If you got stronger, you wouldn't get hurt.

It didn't take much convincing after that.

The final obstacle was Kurama, who would be the hardest to convince without consequences.

"Let me train them."

He received a glare in response.

"No."

Flat and simple.

"They need guidance."

"You couldn't guarantee their safety upon arrival. Am I supposed to believe you won't scar them further?"

He offered up the only thing he had left.

"My life. You have my life they'll be safe with me."

"Very well, but it's not me you have to convince."

It was you.

And when he approached you, you looked down and silenced yourself. Tensing up like he was going to yell at you.

"Have you recovered?" It sounded more like a command than question.

But you nodded anyways.

He used to like how quiet you were. Now he despised it.

"For five months you will train nonstop. You will get ahold of your spirit energy. And you will be capable enough to defend yourself without crying. Do you understand?"

But this time you did say something in return. Something unexpected.

"No. I don't want to go."

He had never been nice to you before. Never wanted to spend time with you. So you were suspicious. And maybe you secretly believed he left you on purpose for those other demons to find. That he set you up in the hopes you'd be dead when he got there.

You squeezed the penguin you were given. It really did calm you down.

You didn't want to give him a chance anymore.

"It's for your benefit, not mine." And he internally cringed at what was to come next.

"I apologize for my behavior, let me do what's right."

If anyone besides you heard that, he'd kill them. But for now he was awaiting your response.

You tilted your head as you thought of what to say. This was different. Hiei never apologized for anything. Least of all you. And you were sure this is the most you two have ever talked.

"Are you really sorry?" You still didn't believe him quite yet.

"Yes." And he further swallowed down his pride for your trust.

"And you won't be mean anymore?"

"Yes."

You took a deep breath.

"Okay."

★★★★

#hiei x reader #hiei yu yu hakusho #yu yu hakusho x reader #platonic #little reader #mentor Hiei #father figure hiei????#i doubt his stubborn ass would accept that title #x reader #enemies to family 💀💀💀

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