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winged-self-indulgence · 11 months ago

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Why Do People Like Yanderes?

Hi everyone, my name is Diya, and this was going to be a YT video-essay-type-thing but I'm too poor to afford a mic and too busy with college to learn how to edit videos, so here's my vague exploration of the psychology behind why people like yanderes so much through the lens of my favourite Visual Novels.

TW for uh. yandere content. Mentions of sex, gore, and non-con, particularly in the last topic. This is more like the first draft of an academic paper so while it's not explicit, I do go into some detail.

Introduction

If you’re a fan of anime or visual novels, then you’re probably already aware of what a yandere is, or at the very least you’ve seen that one picture of Yuno Gasai. Still, for the sake of thoroughness, let’s take it from the tippy top. The term ‘yandere’ is a Japanese portmanteau of ‘yanderu’ – the progressive form of ‘yami’ – meaning ‘sick’, and ‘deredere’ which roughly translates to ‘loving’. Together, the word refers to someone who is – in short – extremely lovesick. Obsessive to the extreme, and with little morality to spare, the standard yandere is characterized by a dangerous fixation on a chosen target, often appearing shy and caring at first only to flip the script and become violently aggressive towards perceived threats (Kroon, 2010).

It should be noted that yanderes are not a strictly romantic or sexual trope. The Ancient Greeks classified at least six forms of love, from familial (storge) to guests (xenia). Modern psychologists may distinguish love as either Companionate or Passionate (Kim & Hatfield, 2004) or consisting of three dimensions of Intimacy, Passion, and Commitment (Sternberg & Sternberg, 2018). Realistically, possessiveness shows up in a variety of relationships. However, people are generally primed to view certain dynamics as inherently amorous. Societal norms tend to encourage the idea that romantic bonds ought to rank above all others, and therefore if Person A is bizarrely fixated on Person B, then clearly there must be an element of sexual interest involved regardless of the actual relationship between the individuals in question.

Regardless, yanderes remain quite popular in fiction. Many dismiss it as a fetish, which it can be, but that isn’t the case for everyone. While there is nothing wrong with indulging in kinky fiction, not all of us get horny at the thought of being chained up in someone’s basement, no matter how hot our captor may be. So why is it so pervasive? Why is this trope so appealing that most writers cannot help but include at least a single line of dialogue implying that – if circumstances had been ever so slightly different – my wholesome shoujo romcom might have turned into a psychological horror?

Hybristophilia

‘Hybristophilia’, also known as Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome after the titular criminal couple, is a word is derived from the Greek word ‘hybridzein’ meaning ‘to commit an outrage against someone’ and ‘philo’ which means ‘a strong preference for’. Sexologist John Money reportedly defined it as a paraphilia in which an individual is sexually aroused by a partner who has a predatory history of hurting other people (Money, 1986, as cited in Matuszak, 2017). In his book, Serial Killer Groupies, true crime and crime fiction author RJ Parker distinguished two forms of hybristophilia: passive and aggressive. The former is when an individual contacts a criminal with the intention of striking up a relationship with them, allowing themselves to be seduced and manipulated but having no interest in committing a crime themselves. The latter are far more dangerous, as the individual not only derives sexual pleasure from their partner’s atrocities but are active participants in carrying out or covering up the crime. To quote Griffiths (2013, as cited in Pettigrew, 2019):

“[They] help out their lovers with their criminal agenda by luring victims, hiding bodies, covering crimes, or even committing crimes. They are attracted to their lovers because of their violent actions and want to receive love yet are unable to understand that their lovers are psychopaths who are manipulating them.”

In some ways, hybristophilia is the nearest thing we have to a realistic understanding of why people love yanderes. I mean, much of the fantasy surrounding such characters and their media tend to be filled with posts begging to be spat on or calling the rightfully terrified main character ungrateful for being a teeny bit upset about finding surveillance cameras in their ceiling. However, enjoying fictitious immoral activity does not predict real perpetration, so what does? There exists little consensus amongst psychologists as to what sparks this particular predilection, and that was strange to me. You would think there would be more studies into this topic, in spite of or perhaps because of its controversial nature. Heck, that one dude wouldn’t shut up about white women’s obsession with Bundy and Dahmer, and I assumed he had gotten that information from somewhere, but it turns out that was just him using modifiers to justify sexism.

However, I believe that we can hedge a few guesses, and over the course of my research, I’ve organized the main rationalizations under four umbrellas which I will explore through the lens of my favourite yandere-themed Visual Novels. Please keep in mind that most of these games are rated as mature due to sexual scenes and/or gore. Additionally, in the spirit of transparency, this ramble will be focused exclusively on male or masculine yanderes. So, without further ado:

Call Me Bob the Builder Because I Can Fix Them

If you’re familiar with DC Comic’s Batman, or just happen to have attended any costume event held over the span of the last 20+ years, you may be familiar with the character of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, better known as Harley Quinn. Initially created as the Joker’s one-off sidekick in Batman The Animated Series, she was so well-received by audiences that she became a recurring character in the cartoon and was eventually given a proper origin story in the form of a one-shot titled Mad Love.

Harley’s origin story has seen some alterations over the past decades, but the core aspects remain largely untouched. In the beginning, Harleen Quinzel was a promising young woman who wanted was a degree from the university’s prestigious psychology department, which she gained through…less than scrupulous means.

(Listen, I’m not sure if the authors were leaning on the Dumb Blonde stereotype, or if they simply thought that casting her as a genuinely bad student would make her later actions more believable. Either way, the idea of Harley as someone with a legitimate PhD came later)

After landing an internship at Arkham Asylum – a half-hospital and half-prison straight out of the 1870s that might as well be built out of one-ply tissue-paper soaked with gasoline and left next to a crate of fireworks – Harleen set her sights on the then incarcerated Joker. At the start, her fixation on the criminal wasn’t remotely sympathetic. She didn’t want to help him, she wanted to use him. Harleen Quinzel wanted piggyback off his infamy and write a tell-all tale detailing what sort of messed up childhood resulted in Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime. Yet the more she interacted with him, the more the Joker took advantage of her empathy. By the end of their sessions, Harley no longer saw him as a violent serial killer with a clown schtick, but as a “lost, injured child looking to make the world laugh at his antics.”

But Diya, you may be asking, what does this have to do with the video? The Joker never loved Harley, and it could even be argued – as Shehadeh did in a 2017 essay – that her obsession with the pasty-faced clown is more akin to Histrionic Personality Disorder. While that may be the case, I believe that Harley’s story provides one of the reasons yanderes are so popular: their backstory.

Whether they were abandoned by their family, bullied by their peers, experimented on by evil scientists, starved on the streets, died under mysterious circumstances and then trapped in a haunted VCR tape for decades, or are simply so impossibly inhuman that they frankly do not understand why it isn’t socially acceptable to imprison their crush in a pocket dimension made of meat and non-Euclidean geometry, yanderes often have fairly sympathetic or at least understandable explanations for why they are Like That. Your mileage may vary significantly depending on how much you sympathize with these motives, but the point is that yanderes always make sense to some degree. Their morality and priorities may be twisted or even completely incomprehensible, but the audience almost always knows the reason, and that can be comforting. In the real world, other people aren’t always straightforward, and we never really know what they’re thinking, but narrative coherence demands a semblance of internal consistency lest the audience end up frustrated and confused. So yanderes are not only easy to sympathize with, but also fairly predictable. In-universe they may be unhinged freaks with a blood fetish, but to you watching from behind the safety of the screen they’re just acting out the script written for them based on a prototype. And if you understand the why behind their loose gears, then you might just be able to put them back together again.

The concept of rescue romances or “I Can Fix Them” has been around in our stories for thousands of years. The Epic of Gilgamesh detailed how Shamhat essentially ‘civilized’ wild man Enkidu through ritual lovemaking, and a concerning number of religions push the idea that women are dutybound to save men from the follies of sin. Yet men are not exempt either, with one notable example being the German fairytale, King Thrushbeard. Call it what you will regardless: Knights in Shining Armour, the Florence Nightingale Effect, or a plain old case of Because You Were Nice to Me, studies have shown that human beings generally like helping [DA2] others, even when the reason doesn’t necessarily stem from pure altruism. I will delve deeper into this later, but care and compassion are deeply ingrained in human nature, and arising from those roots is the appeal of this mentality: You can save them. You can change them. You can make them better. You are special, and the way you treat this person carries a weight that has not and will never be matched by anyone else for the rest of their mortal or immortal existence.

The illusion is a delicious one, especially if the person you’ve helped turns out to be a billionaire CEO with cash to burn, a super powerful ghost king willing to raze continents to dust for you, a demon having fun on a Friday night, or just your average hot creep with a knife. Moreover, different people have different ideas of what ‘fixing’ even means. Maybe you want to single-handedly rehabilitate your yandere into a functional member of society. Maybe you’re cool with the incessant stalking but would like them to stop slaughtering your friends, family, and local service workers. Maybe you want to make them much, much worse.

Not only do yanderes provide immediate proof that your actions have a tangible impact on the lives of others, but the fantasy also includes the desire of being seen as special. Of being admired and adored by someone whose life you inexplicably made better by virtue of simply being yourself, or an idealized version of yourself. In this fictional world, in this imaginary setting, the person you are is so uniquely, impossibly irreplaceable to someone. And if that’s the case then they can’t risk losing you, can they?

The Allure of Obsession, or ‘Til Death Do Us Part (Literally)

It shouldn’t be necessary, but here is my obligatory disclaimer anyway. Ahem: obsession is not a good thing in real life. Fixating on another human to the detriment of your own wellbeing and that of those around you is dangerous, as is encouraging someone else to obsess over you. You might think you are being worshiped, but real life is not a visual novel. The outside world doesn’t come with an age rating, the author’s guiding pen, and a convenient fade to credits sequence once you’ve reached an ending. The consequences will still be there in the morning, so don’t do it. Just don’t.

PSA out of the way, it’s natural to want to be wanted. Maslow’s Hierarchy places it just above physical safety, but I’d argue that it could easily be compared to baser drives. According to many psychological and anthropological studies, much of humanity’s continued survival and environmental dominance is largely attributed to our ability to form groups, cooperate with one another, and maintain complex interpersonal networks. Social support, intimacy, and a sense of belonging are linked to emotional and physical benefits, such as more optimistic health perceptions, higher subjective well-being, increased creativity and innovation, and greater self-efficacy (DeWall & Bushman, 2011; Harandi et al., 2017; Wang & Sha, 2018). Therefore, it’s perfectly understandable that rejection of any sort would be construed as a threat.

But if someone is obsessed with you, then you have no reason to worry about that, right? No more nights spent agonizing over how they feel about you, asking yourself whether your last text made you sound too desperate, or if you’re boring them because you spent the past hour info-dumping about Stardew Valley farm layouts. With a yandere, there will never be any doubt that they care about you. Sure, they might go about it in weird, manipulative, and insidious ways that violate your physical and mental autonomy, but you can’t deny their loyalty. They do love you in their own bizarre way. You are the sun around which they orbit. When you’re in the room, no one else exists. Every single messy flaw is just another bullet point on the mile-long list of why they adore you.

In essence, yanderes are not only attentive, but their love can be virtually unconditional. A yandere might know everything about you, and still revere you. It’s unhealthy as hell and you might genuinely question their taste, but it can be tempting to pretend that all of you, right down to the ugliest parts of yourself – the traits and choices that you would never share with another living soul even at gunpoint – are worthy of understanding, if not open praise and affection.

Attractiveness, or Okay but Have You Considered That They’re Hot Though?

I mean what am I supposed to say here? They’re hot, what do you want from me?

No, but in all seriousness, fictional media paints an idealized version of the world, and most yanderes are hot because they have the freedom of existing purely behind that screen; artfully arranged and edited to forever appear compelling to anyone who happens to enjoy their particular style. And there are a lot of styles to choose from. Whether you want them pretty faced and disarmingly cute, or scarred up and big enough to pin you like a butterfly, yanderes come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes that are meant to pique your interest and draw you in like a naïve little fish being lured towards the mouth of an angler fish, unwilling to believe that anything bad might happen to us when the bait is this pretty.

This is often referred to as the Halo Effect, a form of cognitive bias referring to the tendency for people to assume that a single obvious positive trait must be associated with other positive traits. The go-to characteristic is typically physical attractiveness, but a nice voice, good humour, and cooking skills are also factors which serve to influence our perceptions.

So, conventional physical attractiveness is one thing, but that’s only skin deep. What about beyond that? After all, the yandere still has to talk to you before they enact their master plan of tying you up in their basement until Stockholm Syndrome kicks in.

When I showed my friend a picture of John Doe from the game John Doe, she told me that he looked like a creepy slob, and she’s far from the only person who’s ever thought so. Look at them. I feel like if I tried to comb that hair it would simply eat me, and some of the CGs really put the scopophobia in Scopophobia Studios. I love Doe, but he is not hot, and he doesn’t behave in a normally appealing way either. If the player chooses not to take a bath, Doe will immediately comment that you “smell good” before following you home, breaking into your house, and leaving a bloody organ on the floor for the player to trip over. Many yanderes can at least fake a veneer of normalcy, but from the get-go Doe doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s anything less than an otherworldly creature stuffed into a vaguely person-shaped meatsuit. In an effort to find out why so many people had latched on to Doe – including me – I shopped around social media and YouTube for answers, and what I found was a widely unanimous sentiment.

While some were drawn to his fun design and goofy personality, most simply thought that he wasn’t inherently malevolent, just very confused. In addition to being a supernatural being with a completely alien axis of morality, Doe’s meta-awareness and unbridled attempts at winning the player’s affection lends him quite a bit of support from the audience, especially if you yourself also happen to struggle with social cues and relate to his pure earnestness. In Ending 7 of the extended version, the player character has the option to tell Doe – who has altered himself to pass as more ‘normal’ – that they prefer who he truly is, at which point he grows visibly flustered and sports an adorable pair of literal heart-shaped pupils.

Whether they’re charismatic, seductive, cute, sweet, funny, nurturing, or generous, the best yanderes have engaging personalities. Even while they’re committing truly heinous crimes against God, man, and your guts, you still kinda want to hang out with them, and you want them to acknowledge you as being just as interesting. And this is all fine in fiction because you’re the one in charge, and if you ever get bored or uncomfortable or busy with something else, then you can simply close the tab or window with zero consequences, which brings us to the final and most important reason.

Power Dynamics and Consent in Fantasy (I Couldn’t Think of a Joke Here Guys, This Is Kinda Serious)

Once again, I feel that I must preface this section just for the sake of my own peace of mind: sexual coercion and assault are vile and disgusting crimes that should never be emulated or tolerated in the real world. We are speaking purely of fictional media, specifically adult-oriented media in this case, so please be mindful.

In 2009, Bivoni and Critelli conducted a study on 355 undergraduate women with the goal of assessing the reasons behind fantasies of non-consent. At the time, there were two leading explanations of this phenomenon. One stated that women with high libidos but repressed views of sex used these imaginary scenarios to alleviate the guilt they had grown to associate with sex. Because the simulation was a purely mental exercise and they themselves were cast as helpless victims in the scenario, they were able to remain blameless while still finding sexual gratification. The second stated that these fantasies were an expression of liberation by women who were adventurous and comfortable enough with their own sexuality to engage with taboo ideas that they weren’t at all interested in performing in real life. Which do you think was more common?

If you guessed the second option, you’d be right. The study found that of the 220 women who had experienced such fantasies, 45% found theirs erotic, 46% were mixed, and only 9% reported pure aversion. One justification for this outcome relies on psycho-biological theories, for example masochistic preferences or the unintended activation of the sympathetic nervous system and subsequent mis-attribution of arousal. Other reasons have to do with higher order thinking and are tied to the power dynamics within such fantasies. On the surface is the appeal of being so desirable to someone that they simply cannot control themselves, but then there is a deeper impulse, which the researchers referred to as Adversary Transformation. To quote the article: “[fantasies] involve a struggle between an assailant and a potential victim in which it is relevant to consider who is the winner and who is the loser. At one level, it is a struggle over sex, but the woman's non-consent may be feigned or token. At another level, the woman may be seeking a victory that is not about whether sex occurs, but about what happens emotionally between the protagonists.”

Basically, the imaginary perpetrator may have ‘won’, but the self-character need not have ‘lost’.

Media provides an extra layer to the illusion, one that you as the viewer have absolute control over. If you are choosing to engage with a piece of media that explicitly labels itself as including R18+ yandere content, then you clearly have some expectations, and that background awareness goes a long way in reducing long-term discomfort and allowing audiences to make informed decisions. If you don’t like the plot, you can simply turn it off it with the click of a button, and when the screen goes dark it’s not like the yandere is going to punish you for saying no. Strade isn’t going to break into your house with a drill, there are no homicidal clown ghosts hiding in your TV, and no suspicious pink-haired hackers watching your webcam. They aren’t real, and the consequences aren’t real either. You have all the power here.

Conclusion

In summary, Yanderes are appealing for a variety of reasons. Whether you want to save them, think they’re attractive, wish to indulge in a dream of being utterly coveted, or simply enjoy a bit of spice in your me-time, it’s obvious why the trope has persisted for so long and will likely continue to do so. If you enjoy yanderes but are worried that having a taste for the less wholesome side of things might imply something about who you are as a person, don’t be. The notion that fantasies and media preferences directly reflect subconscious desires is not only painfully out of date debunked nonsense but also indicative of restrictive ideologies wherein bad thoughts = sin. This isn’t 1984. You haven’t committed a thought-crime by having a weird kink. You aren't going to superhell for fantasizing. The human mind is hardly ever so mathematically rational, and the point of fiction is to allow us to safely engage with and explore various ideas, provided the everyone involved is mentally, chronologically, and emotionally mature enough to do so.

Thank you all for listening to me. If you learned something or were just a little bit entertained. If you're curious about knowing more, I've listed my sources below

REFERENCES

Bivona, J. M., & Critelli, J. W. (2009). The Nature of Women’s Rape Fantasies: An analysis of prevalence, frequency, and contents. Journal of Sex Research, 46(1), 33–45. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490802624406

Critelli, J. W., & Bivona, J. M. (2008). Women’s Erotic Rape Fantasies: An Evaluation of Theory and research. Journal of Sex Research, 45(1), 57–70. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490701808191

DeWall, C. N., & Bushman, B. J. (2011). Social acceptance and rejection. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20(4), 256–260. https://doi.org/10.1177/0963721411417545

Flynn, F. J., Reagans, R., Amanatullah, E. T., & Ames, D. R. (2006). Helping one’s way to the top: Self-monitors achieve status by helping others and knowing who helps whom. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 91(6), 1123–1137. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.91.6.1123

Harandi, T. F., Taghinasab, M. M., & Nayeri, T. D. (2017). The correlation of social support with mental health: A meta-analysis. Electronic Physician, 9(9), 5212–5222. https://doi.org/10.19082/5212

Hazen, H. (1983). Endless rapture: rape, romance, and the female imagination. https://openlibrary.org/books/OL3161300M/Endless_rapture

Kroon, R. W. (2010). A/V A to z: An Encyclopedic Dictionary of Media, Entertainment and Other Audiovisual Terms. McFarland.

Matuszak, M. (2017). Hybristophilia White Paper. https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55dfd21ee4b0718764fb34cc/t/5cb7cabee5e5f00ab13be58b/1555548863275/Hybristophilia+White+Paper.pdf

Oarga, C., Stavrova, O., & Fetchenhauer, D. (2015). When and why is helping others good for well-being? The role of belief in reciprocity and conformity to society’s expectations. European Journal of Social Psychology, 45(2), 242–254. https://doi.org/10.1002/ejsp.2092

Parker, R. (2014). Serial killer groupies. RJ PARKER PUBLISHING, INC.

Wang, T., & Sha, H. (2018). The influence of social rejection on cognitive control. Psychology, 09(7), 1707–1719. https://doi.org/10.4236/psych.2018.97101

#reference list is completed!#yandere #sunny day jack #my dear hatchet man #mdhm #stnaf #ddlc #john doe #boyfriend to death #tpof #degrees of lewdity #your boyfriend #14dwy #br<3ken colors #camp willowpeak #br0ken colors #obey me #binary star hero #favor vn

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pin-k-ink · 5 months ago

Note

kind of a weird request but can you write something about kageyama having a nursing kink ? kinda like an oral fixation but not really.

like, him having the need to just have his mouth on the reader’s boob in a non sexual way, you know ??

feel free to ignore this if it’s too weird 😭🙏

quintessence // kageyama tobio

tw ⇢ clingy and needy!kageyama, mentions of anxiety, it’s fucking fluffy, biting/marking, non sexual intimacy, nursing kink, implied lactation but it’s not explicitly stated

wc ⇢ 2k

a/n: i hope i did it right 💀

You stirred awake to the now-familiar sensation of Kageyama nuzzling into your cleavage, his strong arms banded around your waist as he pulled you flush against his muscular frame. Blinking blearily, you glanced at the clock. 3:14 AM. Right on schedule.

Over the past week, your boyfriend had developed a new nighttime ritual - one that involved using your breasts as his own personal pillows. He refused to settle down to sleep unless his face was firmly planted in your chest, nose nestled snugly between the soft mounds.

Not that you were complaining. There was something undeniably cute about the way he sought comfort in your embrace, his usually stern features relaxing ever so slightly as he burrowed into your warmth.

But even as Kageyama's breath fanned across your skin in deep, even puffs, you couldn't help but notice the furrow between his brows, the downward pull of his lips. He looked like a petulant child who'd been denied his favorite toy, even as he motorboated your chest in his sleep.

Stifling a fond snort, you gently combed your fingers through his dark hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp in the way you knew he secretly loved.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Tobio?" you murmured softly. "You've been extra grumpy lately, even with the deluxe boob pillow treatment."

Kageyama grumbled something unintelligible into your cleavage, his arms tightening fractionally around your waist. Tilting his head, he shot you a bleary-eyed scowl.

"'M not grumpy," he mumbled petulantly. As if to illustrate his point, he promptly shoved his face back into your chest, rubbing his cheek against the soft swell of your breast in a move that was somehow both adorable and bratty.

You bit back a smile, knowing better than to push the issue when he got like this. Kageyama had never been one for talking about his feelings - getting him to open up was like trying to pry open a particularly stubborn clam.

"Alright, Mr. Not Grumpy," you teased lightly. "But you know you can always talk to me if something's bothering you, right? I'm here for you, no matter what."

Kageyama's only response was a muffled "Mmpf" as he burrowed impossibly deeper into your cleavage. Within moments, his breathing had evened out once more, the tension slowly leaching from his muscles as sleep reclaimed him.

You sighed softly, continuing your gentle ministrations through his hair as you let your own eyes drift shut. Kageyama might be a prickly, emotionally constipated handful at times, but he was your handful. And if motorboating your tits was what he needed to navigate whatever was bothering him, well...

There were certainly worse ways to spend your nights.

With that thought, you let yourself slip back into slumber, content to be your grumpy boyfriend's oversized teddy bear for the foreseeable future. He'd talk to you when he was ready.

Over the next few nights, Kageyama's restlessness seemed to intensify. He tossed and turned in his sleep, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched even as he clung to you like a lifeline. And his nightly nuzzling sessions were becoming increasingly...aggressive.

It started with little nips along the swell of your breasts - barely-there grazes of teeth that could almost be mistaken for accidental. But then you'd woken one morning to find a smattering of faint red marks blooming across your chest, telltale evidence of Kageyama's midnight mouthing.

At first, you'd written it off as an unconscious quirk, a manifestation of whatever stress was plaguing him. But as the love bites grew darker and more frequent, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to his fixation.

"Tobio," you murmured one night, hissing softly as he latched onto a particularly sensitive spot just above your left nipple. "Easy, baby. That's gonna leave a mark."

Kageyama merely grunted, his arms tightening possessively around your waist as he continued his ministrations. A muffled groan rumbled through his chest as he suckled at your skin, teeth scraping against the tender flesh.

"Hey," you tried again, gently tugging at his hair to get his attention. "Not that I'm not enjoying the enthusiasm, but what's gotten into you lately? You've been extra...bitey."

Kageyama stilled, his face still buried in your cleavage. For a moment, you thought he might have fallen back to sleep. But then he sighed, his breath hot against your dampened skin.

"I just..." he mumbled, his voice muffled and slightly hesitant. "I need...I can't..."

He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the words. You waited patiently, one hand absently stroking his hair while the other rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"I don't know," Kageyama finally bit out, frustration evident in his tone. "I just...need you. Need this." As if to punctuate his point, he nuzzled deeper into your chest, his nose nudging the underside of your breast.

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, the uncharacteristic openness. It wasn't like Kageyama to admit to needing anyone or anything. For him to confess his desire for closeness, for comfort...it spoke volumes.

"Oh, Tobio," you murmured, pressing a tender kiss to his hair. "I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

You felt him shudder against you, his arms tightening fractionally around your waist. "Promise?" he mumbled, the single word laced with a fragility that made your throat tighten.

"I promise," you whispered fiercely. "You've got me, Tobio. Always."

Kageyama made a noise of contentment, the tension slowly draining from his frame as he melted into your embrace. His face tucked back into your cleavage, nose nestled snugly between your breasts as he inhaled deeply.

You held him close, your heartbeat gradually syncing with his as you let the quiet of the night envelop you both. Maybe you didn't have all the answers yet, maybe Kageyama still had some emotional unpacking to do...

But for now, this was enough. You were enough. And you'd happily be his human stress ball for as long as he needed, bite marks and all.

Just as you were drifting off, you felt Kageyama press a soft, almost reverent kiss to the center of your chest - right above your heart.

"Love you," he mumbled sleepily, the words slightly slurred but unmistakable.

A smile tugged at your lips, your own heart swelling with affection for your adorably grumpy boyfriend.

"Love you too, Tobio," you whispered back. "Even when you're using my boobs as a teething ring."

A muffled snort was his only reply, but you could've sworn you felt him smile against your skin.

You were pulled from a dreamless sleep by the sensation of Kageyama shifting restlessly beside you, his nose nudging insistently at the swell of your breast. Blinking blearily, you glanced down at him, taking in the pinched expression on his face even as he nuzzled deeper into your cleavage.

"Tobio?" you murmured, your voice rough with sleep. "What's wrong, baby?"

Kageyama stilled, his face still tucked firmly against your chest. For a long moment, he said nothing, the only sound in the room his slightly uneven breathing. Then, so quietly you almost missed it:

"Can I...can I suck on you?"

Your breath hitched, your sleep-addled brain struggling to process his request. "You...what?"

Kageyama made a small, frustrated noise, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. Even in the darkness, you could make out the dusting of pink across his cheekbones, the bashful set of his mouth.

"I want to...your boobs," he mumbled, his eyes skittering away from yours as he spoke. "Can I..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Please?"

Oh. Oh.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place - the restlessness, the clinginess, the constant nuzzling and nipping at your breasts. Kageyama had been trying to communicate his needs the only way he knew how, through touch and subtle cues.

Your heart melted, a rush of tenderness and understanding washing over you. Reaching out, you cupped his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to yours.

"Of course, Tobio," you murmured, your thumb stroking his cheekbone. "Whatever you need, baby."

Kageyama's eyes widened fractionally, a mix of relief and gratitude flashing across his face. Ducking his head, he pressed a chaste, almost reverent kiss to the center of your chest before slowly trailing his lips down to the swell of your breast.

With a shaky exhale, you arched into his touch, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head as he mouthed at your nipple through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. Kageyama groaned softly, his tongue laving over the sensitive bud as it pebbled beneath his ministrations.

Shifting slightly, you tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. Kageyama made a small, needy noise at the reveal of your bare chest, his hands coming up to cup the soft mounds reverently.

"Go ahead, baby," you encouraged gently, guiding his head back to your breast. "I've got you."

With a shuddering sigh, Kageyama latched onto your nipple, his lips sealing around the sensitive peak as he began to suckle. His eyes fluttered shut, his brow smoothing and shoulders loosening as he lost himself in the soothing, rhythmic pulls.

You cradled him close, your fingers gently carding through his hair as he sucked. There was something profoundly intimate about the moment, a vulnerability and trust that went beyond mere physical pleasure. This was about comfort, connection, a primal need for closeness and reassurance.

As Kageyama continued to suckle, soft, contented sounds rumbling from his chest, you felt your own eyes grow heavy. The steady draw of his mouth, the weight of him in your arms...it was soothing in a way you couldn't quite describe.

From that night forward, nursing became a regular part of your bedtime routine. As soon as the lights went out, Kageyama would curl into you, his head finding its way to your chest like a moth drawn to a flame. He'd nuzzle and mouth at your breasts, his touches soft and reverent, until you guided him to your nipple with a murmured encouragement.

Each night, as he suckled, you'd feel the tension drain from his body, the furrow between his brows smoothing out as he lost himself in the soothing, rhythmic pulls. It was a moment of pure, uncomplicated comfort - a respite from the pressures and expectations of the outside world.

For Kageyama, nursing wasn't about sex or arousal. It was about connection, about grounding himself in the solid reassurance of your presence. It was a way to quiet the noise in his head, to ease the constant thrum of anxiety that came with being a competitive athlete.

And for you...it was a privilege, a sign of the unshakable trust and intimacy you shared. There was something profoundly moving about being able to provide that comfort, that safe space for your partner to simply be.

Of course, it wasn't always easy. There were nights when Kageyama was restless, when the stress of the day clung to him like a second skin. Nights when he'd suckle for hours, his brow pinched and jaw tight even as he clung to your breast like a lifeline.

But you never wavered, never pushed him away. You held him close, your fingers stroking his hair and your heartbeat steady beneath his ear.

Gradually, as the weeks passed, you began to notice a change in Kageyama. His smiles came a little easier, his shoulders sat a little lighter. He laughed more freely, the sound rich and warm in a way that made your heart flutter.

And when he looked at you...god, when he looked at you, it was like staring into the sun. His gaze held a softness, a depth of affection and gratitude that stole your breath and ignited your soul.

You knew that nursing wasn't a magic fix, that Kageyama still had plenty of battles to fight and demons to face. But now...now he had an anchor, a touchstone to come home to at the end of each day.

And that? That made all the difference.

So every night, when Kageyama curled into you, his breath hot against your chest and his lips seeking out your nipple...you simply held him close and let him take what he needed.

Because in the end, that's what love was all about. Giving, receiving, and finding solace in the spaces between.

Even if those spaces happened to be in your cleavage.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #hq smut #hq x reader #hq x reader smut #kageyama tobio x reader smut #kageyama x reader smut #kageyama tobio smut #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama smut #kageyama x reader #tobio smut #tobio x reader

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knavesflames · 1 month ago

Note

chat this contains sh DO NYAT read if uncomfy

putting this in ur ask box cos im desperate for it to be written on my knees screaming

genshin girlies tracting their s/os skin where they see scars while u cuddle naked maybe after a sesh or even just skin to skin cuddling and they speak softly telling you you did a good job and everything and even kissing them AUGH HEHEHRHEHEGRGEGRGRGRGRBDJFJSLANHAHA

Hi <3 sorry this took me so long to get to! I have had a whirlwind of health struggles both mental and physical but I am trying to Lock In again. I’m sorry you went through such tough times :( I understand, and I get the struggle, if you get what I’m implying. Stay safe and healthy fr<3

Word count: 867

Content: sh implied in the past but it’s not graphic, just briefly mentioned, talk of scars, fluff

tw utc

Arlecchino has a rule— as blunt as she may be, she isn’t as cruel as the world likes to make her out to be. Judgemental, though she is, she refuses to comment on something that a person cannot change. She deems it basic decency (it is), but even some of the most polite people she knows don’t hesitate before speaking, or, well, looking. Despite the discomfort she knows you experience when people’s eyes wander and dwell on the exact thing you don’t want them to look at, she herself has never done so. Curious, she has to admit she has been, as would most be if they had a girlfriend with such marks littering her skin. Purely out of concern and care does she wish to know the story of what led you to make such decisions. She does not ask. Arlecchino herself has scars from countless hours of training herself to execute ‘Mother’, ones she keeps hidden under the fabric of her pristine white suit. Ones only you have seen, during moments of intimacy when the night is dark and the air in the room is so suffocatingly warm. You know her story, so you don’t ask.

It seems to be a cycle. She sees them, says nothing, and holds back from doing what she’d really like to do for fear of being insensitive or revealing the softness she keeps hidden. The marks are hidden again, and neither of you say a word. In truth, they shouldn’t be the main focus of the conversation and she understands that, but a part of her yearns to know you, and to understand the parts of you that you’ve refused to reveal.

On the days she catches you staring just a little too longingly at That Drawer in the kitchen, or the days where you seem a little more miserable than usual when you glance at your skin, she’s sure to pull you away from the mirror or the kitchen under the guise of needing you to look over some of the plans for the orphanage, or needing to go shopping. She’s so good at doing so, you don’t even notice she’s done it until hours later.

One particular night, after multiple hours of pleasure and mumbled words of affection, she decides to be bold. Hesitantly, her blackened hand reaches to rest on your thigh. The act itself is nothing new, with you, Arlecchino is a very touchy person, always reminding both her and you that you’re hers. Her thumb however, strokes over one particular scar she’s eyed for a while. It’s a feather light touch, testing the waters, and she’s perfectly prepared to lift her hand away should you indicate as such. You do not. You lean into her touch, almost, like you’ve been waiting for her to get comfortable enough to touch them. You become lost in your own thoughts, and you become unaware of how much time passes before her voice cuts through them, as stern as always, but softer than usual.

“Is this recent?” She hums in slight disapproval as her thumb grazes over it, but she says nothing more, which, if you’re honest, you’re grateful for.

“I had a moment,” you mutter in reply, your head buried into her neck. Her perfume still adorns her skin, and you wonder how expensive said perfume must be if it’s been able to last such a long time, and through such strenuous activity. “I realised and I stopped.”

“Good.” A breath, and her voice lowers until it’s barely louder than a murmur. The sincerity is there though, and her lips move against your hair. “I am proud of you. You have done well.”

“I have not done well, it is—“

“You would not have stopped four years ago. Or two, for that matter. Any progress is better than no progress.” Arlecchino’s voice is gentle, yet unwavering. When you go to protest again, she can practically see the words form before your voice can carry them. “Of course I know how often you were doing it. I am no fool. I said nothing because begging someone to stop doing something when they do not wish to stop is a fruitless endeavour and harmful for both parties in the long run. I just wished you would speak to me if you needed.”

You decide to continue letting her trace every scar she finds on your body. She traces random shapes with the tip of her nail (lucky for you, she filed them a while ago. For.. other reasons). In a moment of affection, she traces little hearts over each one, never missing one, and never giving one more care than another. Both of you stay silent, but the words don’t need to be spoken, and any words that did, have already been said. Arlecchino sees no need in making you uncomfortable when she knows you’ll speak if you need.

Speak you do, eventually, and she remains silent as she listens, giving the occasional nod or ‘mm’ to reassure you that she’s listening. She files all of the information away into her mind, and vows to herself she won’t forget a single word. Arlecchino vows she will love you always.

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yandere-daydreams · 15 days ago

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Felt nostalgic and rewatches HxH after hearing that new manga chapters were coming up and I couldn't not think about Illumi... again. On a scale of 1-10, 10 being the highest, where is he, horny speaking?

He's in there, somewhere, as you mention that his darling does have to deal with 'intimate' affections, but how often does that tend to happen? How many times can they pull the crying card before it won't work and what would usually prompt him to want intimacy? It must feel kinda surreal when he initiates, because Illumi just doesn't look like a guy with base human desires.

You can only imagine the rest of the household (his siblings and the staff) bluescreening when they realize he does, in fact, Fuck. And has *preferences* when it comes to fucking, I bet they all schedule assasinations, gtfo, when he comes back and beelines for his room just to avoid eye contact when he emerges. Milluki finally going out instead of killing people at home remotely with mosquitoes, he caught one (1) glimpse of Illumi's darling and the collar in a camera and had to put away multiple of his precious figures that had chokers/neckwear because he Could Not Unsee It.

tw - implied non/con and very mild gore.

very intellectual question anon,,,, hmmm,,, allow me to extrapolate a bit,,,

honestly i do not think illumi's horniness is quantifiable just because he is getting off on shit too niche in ways too weird to ever be described by a number on a scale. he absolutely did not receive formal sex education and probably failed to ever consider so much as touching his dick prior to meeting you, when he spiraled head-first into sappy romcoms and weird fetish porn with absolutely no ability to differentiate between the two. it's not that he doesn't have those sorts of desires, it's that he has absolutely no ability or motivation to separate which of those desires you might enjoy hearing about and which ones you'd rather not - meaning, in short, that you're going to have to hear about the idyllic, fairytale-esque countryside honeymoon he has planned for when you finally break-down and agree to marry him just as often as he'll remind you of the fact that, if you die before him, he is going to remove one of his lungs and heave it replaced with yours, so you'll never be able to truly get away from him.

i also think that he would, contrary to popular belief, be self-aware not to make fetish gear one of your daily accessories, but that doesn't mean anyone within his estate is escaping psychological damage. there's a very thin line between his possessive instincts and sexual interests, and that line might waver just long enough for him to off-handedly mention that you're going to be in your Cage until you've learned not to be a Bad Puppy to a servant who,,, simply didn't need or want to know that. the flesh may be willing, but his situational willingness is still lacking severely and thus, it might be for the best to have him castrated until those stats start to look a little more even.

#illumi's fucked up sex drive hold such a special place in my heart #mostly because i hc chrollo as pretty staunchly ace and therefore illumi's getting the brunt of my abuse #this is just the way of the world unfortunately #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere illumi

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peachdues · 1 year ago

Text

Phantasmagoria (Part II)

Tell Me to Stop (Sanemi’s Version)

Sanemi x F!Reader • Modern AU • NSFW

A/N: read the fucking warnings before you report.

Massive TW: grief • loss of a parent • canon character death • drug and alcohol abuse • panic attacks • implied attempted sexual assault (not described, happens off-page • non-consensual photos being texted around (very briefly described, and then it’s just a mention of a bite mark) • violence between characters • brief description of Douma getting his face pounded in (deserved)

CW: 14k words. MDNI. explicit sexual content ahead (opens mid-fuck) • creampies • oral (f! and m!receiving) • rough oral • throat fucking • cum eating • ass-smacking • hate(?)fucking • toxic ass FWB • swearing • angst

I promise Part III will have angst BUT also lots of fluff/intimacy/care.

Without further ado!

Three weeks had passed since Sanemi first brought her home with him when Y/N realized she was utterly fucked.

Sure, at that moment, the platinum-haired man had her bent over his kitchen table, arms pinned behind her back as he pounded mercilessly into her, but she realized that she was also fucked because nothing had ever or would ever compare to the way Sanemi made her feel.

It had started only as an occurrence whenever they were out at night, with Y/N tugging Sanemi into Kizuki’s seedy bathroom to bounce against his lap. Sanemi had been forced to muffle his groans by sucking harshly on her breast as he fucked her against the bathroom wall, only for her to succinctly pull off him the moment he finished to return to her friends, Shinobu discretely handing her a napkin to wipe the remnants of his pleasure as it dripped down her thighs.

Then, she started letting him bring her back to his apartment from the various clubs and bars their groups visited. She grew content to let him lay her over the side of his bed to swirl that sinful tongue around her needy, demanding clit as his thick fingers steadily pumped in and out of her aching cunt while he fucked her mouth, his seed spilling down her throat with a force that threatened to obliterate any dwindling part of her that had not been utterly consumed by him.

But that still had not been enough for Y/N — or for Sanemi, apparently.

Because their late-night trysts had quickly evolved into near-daily rendezvouses, both stone-cold sober and texting each other in the middle of the day, in desperate need to feel the other’s body pressed flush against their own. And as wrong as it was, Y/N loved it; she craved it more than any pretty Wisteria pill or sticky fruity drink.

Because all it took was one taste for Y/N to end up right back in the scarred palm of Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand, begging him to fuck her back to life.

And fuck her he did. The top of her sundress had been pulled down to her waist, and the wooden grain of his kitchen table bit into her bare breasts as Sanemi’s hips slapped roughly against her ass. Y/N was close to sobbing because god, it felt fucking good when he got rough with her like that, when he made her feel anything other than the crippling numbness that seemed to spread through her with each passing day.

He released her arms to lean forward and ghost his lips up her spine, all the way to the back of her neck, and Y/N came hard, just like she did every time they came together because Sanemi knew how to set every nerve in her body on fire with his addicting touch and addicting kiss.

One rough hand made its way under her jaw to twist her head back so he could claim her lips with his, coming as he did so, his groan of pleasure muffled by Y/N sliding her tongue into his mouth.

She hated how much she loved him.

—————————————————————————

They’d been sleeping together for nearly a month when Sanemi decided to test her patience.

“So, are we gonna talk about it?” Y/N cringed, because no, she most certainly did not want to talk about it; not then, not ever, and especially not with him.

“Why would we?” She responded flippantly, twirling the straw in the dregs of her drink. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” Sanemi snapped at her. “You’ve spent the last two years running away from us, and you think there’s nothing to talk about?”

Y/N met his stare hard, her own returning glare cold. “Running implies effort.”

“D’you really think I didn’t try to find you?” Sanemi grabbed her wrist, keeping her from getting up and leaving the bar. “But god forbid you be vulnerable, huh?”

————————————————————————-

“Oh, God forbid you be vulnerable, ‘Nemi,” Y/N gave him an exaggerated eye roll as she leaned her head against Kyojuro’s shoulder.

“You’re sayin’ you would let yourself get that…close with someone?” Sanemi argued, and with a sigh, Kyojuro paused the movie.

They weren’t supposed to be watching a movie with such steamy scenes, but Y/N’s mother had stepped out to cover a shift for a friend, and the trio of teenagers had been left without supervision.

Really, the movie hadn’t been that bad; but the film’s shining sex scene had been several minutes long, each of the teenagers shifting uncomfortably on the couch as the sound of moans filled the basement where they’d gathered to watch.

The scene had passed, but Y/N’s and Sanemi’s argument over a particular detail had not.

“If you’re already having sex, why does it matter what position it’s in?” Y/N half shrieked with laughter as both boys turned scarlet. “Isn’t intimacy the whole point?”

Sanemi turned his face away, embarrassed. “All I’m sayin’ is I don’t think I’d ever let a woman have that much power over me.” Sanemi was referring to the way the female character had climbed atop the love interest and began riding him, her head tipped back as loud, lascivious moans fell from her lips.

It was Kyo’s turn to laugh. “You’d have to get a woman in that position, to begin with, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi made a disgruntled sound. “Bro code says you’re supposed to be on my side, Rengoku,”

Beneath where her cheek lay, Kyojuro vibrated as he laughed heartily. “I’m not saying I’m not! Just that you’ve got a few steps to take before you have to worry about it.”

“Worry about being too vulnerable,” Y/N screwed her eyes up and stuck her tongue out on the last word as she teased him, settling back in against the couch as she grabbed the remote from Kyo’s hand and re-started the movie.

—————————————————————————

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N said frostily, stomping away from the bar and from him.

She didn’t know why she tried to run away from him, not when it was so pointless. Because an hour later, Y/N found herself on the edge of Sanemi’s bed, as he hooked her legs over his muscled shoulders. Face buried deep in her cunt, he lifted her off the mattress, suspending her mid-air and upside down as he ravished her while she sobbed for him to do more, to give her more until she could not possibly take anything else from him.

Perhaps he was punishing her; maybe she deserved it. All Y/N knew, as Sanemi finally tore his mouth away from her weeping core and flipped her onto her knees before slamming her back on his steely length, was that if this was her punishment for loving Sanemi Shinazugawa, she would gladly take it.

The last thing she thought, as Sanemi spilled into her for the second time that evening, thumb swirling her clit and his teeth buried in her neck, was that she was grateful to be on birth control.

—————————————————————————

“Do you like doing that?” Kyojuro’s voice was hesitant over the vibration of the music and laughter of drunken revelers gathered to let loose on the Kizuki dancefloor, and Y/N had to lean closer to hear him at all.

Y/N frowned slightly as she pushed her dissolving Wisteria to her cheek. “It’s just a recreational thing, while we’re out, y’know?”

She didn’t know why she was explaining herself to him, or why she felt like she had to, but Kyojuro had always been one of the few people who could pull the truth out of her with little effort, and in the back of her mind, she knew that made him dangerous. After all, he might get her to confess that she’d missed his smile or missed the blazing heat of Sanemi’s stare whenever she spoke.

Kyojuro reached out and brushed a lock of her hair that had fallen loose from one of her space buns behind her ear. “You were always so straight-edge. I guess I’m just surprised.”

Y/N wanted to smack his hand away but found herself leaning into the steadying warmth of his touch. “Things change, I suppose.”

Kyojuro winced, and his eyes filled with a sadness that was too out of place here in this den of debauchery. “Where did it all go wrong, Y/N? What happened?”

It all went wrong when Sanemi and Genya’s parents were killed in that car crash, making the boys wards of the state who were then bounced around from foster home to foster home. It all went wrong when Genya defended another boy in a fight that wasn’t his to begin with and ended up dead on a sidewalk. It all went wrong when Sanemi lashed out at her and condemned her with a few choice words that seemed grossly disproportionate to what she’d actually said. It all went wrong when Kyojuro decided that being there for Sanemi meant he had to abandon her, too, and then they’d both forgotten about her while she’d lost everything.

But Y/N couldn’t unload all of that right then. “Things change, Kyojuro.” She repeated, though her voice was slightly weaker than it had been, wobbling slightly in a way that Y/N knew meant she would cry if given long enough.

“But you’re our friend, Y/N-” Kyojuro pled, but it was the wrong thing to say, and he cringed as he watched her clam up almost instantly.

—————————————————————————

“She’s our friend!” Kyojuro said hotly, though, with his missing front tooth, it was hard to see him as anything but adorable, even as he glowered at the sneering girl, as he helped Y/N stand up from where she’d been knocked over.

“What a weirdo!” Ume, the small, white-haired girl who always looked like she smelled something unpleasant, reached to yank one of Y/N’s pigtails harshly, causing her to cry out in pain. “And you’re ugly, too!”

Y/N had only been trying to join in on Ume’s tea party that she held with the other girls in their class. But when she’d boldly tried to sit down amongst them, the cruel little girl had shoved her harshly out of the circle they’d formed on the blacktop,

Kyojuro smacked the beastly little girl’s hand away. “Hit her again, and I’ll make you sorry!” He threatened, and for once, the girl had the wits to look slightly intimidated at the blonde who towered over her.

“If you hit me, I’ll tell my brother on you!” The troll hissed, but it did little to cow Kyojuro, who shouldered past her as he steered the softly crying Y/N away from the horrid little group of girls.

“Y/N, are you okay?” The blonde asked worriedly after they were out of sight of Ume, turning her around to look her over.

“I-I just w-wanted to be t-their friend!” Y/N hiccupped, her tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “But they were s-so mean!”

Kyojuro pat her head, just like he did with his baby brother. “You don’t want to be their friend, Y/N,” he said kindly. “Not when they’re so mean. Stick with me and Sanemi! We’ll always look after you!”

Y/N wiped her eyes and tugged at her loose pigtail, all messed from Ume’s harsh grip. “Do you promise?”

Kyojuro smiled as brightly as the sun. “I promise! I will always be here to watch after you – whenever you need me! I’ll be there!”

—————————————————————————

Y/N patted the warm brawn of Kyojuro’s shoulder sympathetically. “I was, Kyo,” her use of his nickname somehow made him hurt more, his mouth wobbling somewhat as his eyes mirrored the resignation in hers. “But it’s just as I said,”

Y/N reached for Mitsuri’s discarded drink on the counter and tipped it back, draining the last dregs of alcohol. “Things change.”

—————————————————————————

Y/N was leaning against the counter of the bar, nursing her beer as she watched her pink friend giggle and murmur sweetly to the black-haired boy dancing with her, the latter’s hands hesitantly gripping her friend’s waist.

“You don’t approve?” A familiar voice rose over the pounding bass of the club music from her side. Y/N didn’t have to turn her head to know who’d sidled up next to her – she would know his blistering heat anywhere.

She tapped her fingers against the sweaty side of her glass. “I just don’t know why he won’t make a move,” Y/N said after a long moment, a frown pulling at the corners of her red-painted lips.

Sanemi followed her line of sight and his mouth pressed into a hard line. “Maybe he wants to, but he thinks it’ll just make things worse.” He said after a moment, voice quiet.

Y/N hummed in disagreement. “He’s making it worse by not doing anything at all – he’s made her think it’s her fault things aren’t working out between them.”

“He doesn’t mean to,” Sanemi offered. “He does care about her. More than she realizes.” He watched as Obanai delicately brushed a strand of Mitsuri’s pink hair from her eyes.

Y/N finally rolled her head to the side to look at him, and idly she wondered if her eyes looked as numb as she felt. “If he did, he wouldn’t keep hurting her; wouldn’t have hurt her to begin with.”

Sanemi stared back at her, and it made her heart squeeze to see the faintest trace of pain in his gaze, even in spite of his small smile. “’S not that simple, though.”

She looked away. “It could’ve been,” Y/N took a long sip of her drink, part of her hoping that he couldn’t catch the jaded edge that crept into her voice. “And now all they know how to do is use one another.”

Sanemi’s gaze upon her was uncomfortable, and not just because it felt like he was stripping down every carefully crafted wall she’d erected around herself during their estrangement. The genuine flash of hurt in his eyes made her feel slick, oily, and so very wrong.

The pair watched as the mismatched couple on the dancefloor swayed together, Obanai’s eyes wide the whole time, as though he could not believe he had the good fortune of holding the beautiful, colorful girl in his arms. Y/N tried to feel happy for her friend, but it was difficult, especially when he knew that the night would inevitably end with Mitsuri in tears, lamenting that her dark-haired lover had yet again insisted he was not good enough for her, and he would leave Y/N to pick up the pieces of her friend’s broken heart.

“They should let themselves try,” Sanemi murmured, bringing Y/N’s attention back to him.

In one smooth gulp, Y/N polished off the rest of her drink, the warm buzz of alcohol loosening her tongue. “Trying is for those who haven’t lost hope.” Y/N squared her shoulders and steeled herself to return to the dancefloor once more. “And Mitsuri is about to learn that lesson.”

Later, just as Y/N predicted, Obanai left but Mitsuri did not go with him. As she wrapped an arm around her crying best friend to steer her out of the club, Y/N looked back to Sanemi, still at the bar, and hoped he could see the I told you so in her eyes.

————————————————————————-

It was July, and Sanemi was getting on her last nerves.

“Y/N, you need to stop,” Sanemi’s voice was gruff as his hand closed over her wrist, restraining her from raising the little violet pill to her lips — her second of the night.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize you were my father,” she tried to turn away from him, but he caught her shoulder, wrenching her back around and swatting at the hand clutching her key to euphoria.

“Cut the shit, Y/N.” He ignored the way she glared at him, as she watched her pill bounced to the floor and disappeared. “You’re destroying yourself; you know that?”

Y/N’s blood turned to ice in her veins. “It’s none of your business, Shinazugawa,” and he flinched at her use of his surname. “Why do you even care?”

Sanemi almost looked menacing as he stares at her under the flashing strobes of the Kizuki. “You’re my friend.”

————————————————————————-

“Because Sanemi,” Y/N sniffed, “You’re my friend.”

Though Sanemi’s bandages covered most of his face, he could just make out the teary sincerity in the young girl’s eyes as she squeezed his good hand where it lay against his hospital bed.

At that moment, Sanemi had felt guilty for snapping at his long-time best friend. He’d known that she hadn’t meant any harm when she asked him if the multitude of lacerations that now covered the right side of his body were permanent. But Sanemi had woken up to the news that he and Genya were now all alone in the world, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself; he couldn’t help his need to wallow in the sadness and misery that threatened to suffocate him.

And so, he’d lashed out.

“Tch, who’d wanna be friends with a scarred freak like me?” He snapped back, though the sourness in his gut intensified as the tears slipped faster down Y/N’s cheeks.

“I do,” she insisted. “We’ve been best friends since we were babies.” Amidst the sniffling desperation in her eyes, the first inklings of anger began to shine through. “You can’t just decide to quit being friends! That’s not fair!”

“I don’t care if you have scars!” Y/N’s voice grew more shrill over the slow, steady beeps of the various machines to which Sanemi found himself attached. “I’ve always thought you were…were… pretty!” She sputtered.

For once, Sanemi had been stumped into silence. The young boy found himself suddenly grateful that most of his face was indeed covered by several layers of thick medical gauze, given the way he felt his cheeks heat at Y/N’s furious declaration.

“And I will always want to be your friend!” Y/N finished dramatically, crossing her arms, and flinging herself back in the plastic chair she’d dragged over by his hospital bed.

“All right,” Sanemi murmured, grateful that he could blame the crack in his voice on his impending puberty. “All right. We’re friends.”

“Best friends,” Y/N corrected, though the sparkle had returned to her eyes.

—————————————————————————

Y/N laughed without humor. “You think, because we fuck when we’re high or drunk, that makes us friends?”

Y/N laughed again, and Sanemi’s grip around her wrist tightened. “As I recall, Shinazugawa, it was you who ended our friendship, well before we ever started—” Y/N grimaced. “Whatever this is that we’re doing.”

“We hook up when we’re under the influence. Nothing more.” She finished, coldly.

A flash of hurt flit across his features, almost obscured by the pulsing lights of the club. “I’ve been sober for the last month, Y/N.”

Sanemi’s answer landed harder than she’d anticipated, in no short part because she hadn’t noticed he’d stopped taking Shinobu’s Wisteria, much less stopped drinking while they were all out together. As he said it, however, Y/N recalled the way it had been more than a month since they’d last hooked up at night, with Sanemi responding to her texts only in the morning or early enough in the evening before she’d had the chance to fall under the Wisteria’s magic spell.

In the back of her mind, Y/N knew she should be concerned with the way the Wisteria was beginning to dull her perception and her memory, but she couldn’t find it within her to care at that moment. She only wanted to make the man before her hurt, hurt the way he’d made her hurt for all these months.

But she couldn’t. There were a million insults on her tongue, waiting to be used, and she knew that he could take whatever it was she threw at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“The sentiment is the same, drunk or sober,” Y/N said, half-heartedly. “We’re not friends. We haven’t been for a long time.”

The pain in Sanemi’s eyes was overshadowed by his own anger, a sure match to her own. “No? So, I’m just a stranger to you, hm?” He took a step closer to her and reached out his hand, gliding it teasingly up her bare arm. “A stranger whom you call and text every day to come and fuck you the way you like it, huh?”

He pulled her close to him, and Y/N let him because he was right, damn him. She craved his touch, his body, more than any tiny purple pill or acidic drink she could spend her money on. She craved him just as surely as she craved air.

But she could not admit that to him, not then, not there. So, Y/N merely breathed, “Yes,” as Sanemi’s hand wrapped under her jaw, his other one tangling in her hair to pull her head back and meet his eyes directly.

Sanemi kissed her, softly, before pulling away to smile ruefully at her. “Then have your pills, Y/N. But you can’t have me, too.”

He released her, and Y/N stepped back, thankful for the dim lighting of the club that concealed her blush. “I don’t need you,” she whispered, though she knew it was a lie. From the look that Sanemi gave her in response, as he retreated towards the bar, she could see he knew it, too.

Y/N sought out Shinobu for another one of her magic pills, but even before she’d allowed it to dissolve on her tongue, Y/N knew something was off. No longer was her world a vibrant array of colors beckoning her to the kaleidoscopic paradise she’d come to love. Instead, the Wisteria crumbled bitterly in her mouth, and no amount of stinging alcohol could chase away its acerbic aftertaste.

She tried to lose herself on the dance floor as she so often did, but it only worsened the sludge that pulsed through her veins.

Beneath the throb of multicolored lights, Y/N felt as though she was suffocating.

Y/N pushed and elbowed her way dizzily through the crush of people on the dance floor, lungs constricting to the point of pain as she struggled to take a breath, her limbs trembling. Her eyes landed on a pair of lilac irises studying her from across the club, and distantly, Y/N noticed how he straightened, his focus lasering in on her as she stumbled towards him.

She couldn’t deny the irony that she was so used to fleeing from him into the sparkling, sweaty array of club-goers, only to find herself desperate to run to him, for safety and comfort, away from the revelers who were suddenly too loud and too close.

He met her halfway, having moved from his place against the bar counter after noticing her distress. With more relief than Y/N knew she should feel, she collapsed against him, grateful for the steely warmth of his arms as they closed protectively around her. In his embrace, she found that she didn’t even mind the way his lips pressed against her damp forehead as he asked whether she was okay.

She wasn’t, and that was his fault to begin with, but he was there, holding her as if she mattered, and Y/N let herself melt.

—————————————————————————

An hour later, she was back in Sanemi’s apartment, crouched over his toilet while the cold tile of his bathroom floor bit into her knees as she heaved up her guts. Sanemi was there, too, seated behind her on the ground while he held her hair in his gentle grip, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into her back.

Between the spasms in her stomach, Y/N wondered if he could see the black sludge of her love for him mixed in with the bile courtesy of Shinobu’s bad Wisteria pill.

————————————————————————-

The next morning, he was yelling at her.

Y/N was confused as to why, exactly, his voice was raised at her, given how gentle he’d been with her the night before; it wasn’t as if she’d been trying to do anything different when he awoke.

She’d just been gathering her things to leave, as she always did. She never stayed after they’d finished, and he knew that — so it wasn’t her fault that he’d woken up and caught her trying to sneak out of his apartment.

“This has gotten out of hand, Y/N. You’re out of control,” Sanemi was blocking his front door, his face hard. If Y/N hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she saw a hint of concern intermingled with the anger that filled his eyes.

“You were lucky last night that you only had a bad trip — but what if it had been mixed with something? What if Kocho’d made a bad batch?”

Y/N’s head was pounding, and the aftereffects from her the previous night were still echoing through her, twisting her world into something dark.

Sanemi’s raised voice wasn’t helping; not in the slightest.

Y/N felt her hands drift to her head as she covered her ears, her breath quickening as her lungs squeezed and spasmed in her chest.

“Stop,” Y/N pled, but her voice was weak and distant, and utterly drowned out by him.

“You’re killing yourself, don’t you see that?” Sanemi continued hotly. “D’you know how gaunt you look? How frail? This shit is killing you, Y/N.”

“For someone who constantly needs to be in control, you’ve completely lost it.”

“Stop, please, stop,”

“What would your mother think?”

“Stop.” Y/N repeated, and she said it again and again until she was half-screaming it, sobbing as she fell back against the hallway wall of Sanemi’s apartment. Distantly, Y/N recognized she was having a panic attack, and she knew it wasn’t really his fault, but his words had stung nonetheless.

Warm, gentle hands closed around her wrists as Sanemi lowered her hands from her ears and pulled her against his chest.

“Breathe,” he said, hoarsely. “Breathe, Y/N.”

It was too difficult to get a breath down as she gasped against him, his chest bare under the shirt he’d thrown on and failed to button in his haste to stop her before she could run. Beneath the warm skin under her cheek, Sanemi’s heart beat strong and sturdy, a lullaby that soothed the roar in her ears.

“Breathe with me,” Sanemi coaxed, peeling back from her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her head as he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He inhaled, deep, for three counts before exhaling, and Y/N found herself falling into sync with him as her erratic heart slowed.

But as the jittery panic beneath her skin eased, a fire ignited in her blood, and suddenly, Y/N found herself boiling with anger.

“How dare you?” She shoved him away harshly, her eyes wild. “Who the fuck gave you the right to bring my mother into this? Don’t act like you suddenly give a shit about her memory.”

Sanemi stumbled back under her push, and he looked remorseful, more guilty than Y/N had ever known him to seem. “Y/N, I –“

“No, shut the fuck up,” She snapped. “I don’t believe you for a second, Sanemi. Not for one fucking second do I believe you care about me or about her at all.”

Y/N paced in front of Sanemi, still situated in front of the only entrance to and exit from his apartment. Fine, if he wanted to keep her in there with him, then he could deal with her rage.

“Not one fucking call,” Y/N began. “Not once did you or Kyojuro bother to check-in. ‘Hey, sorry we haven’t spoken in nine months, but we heard your mom got cancer, and she used to feed us when our parents wouldn’t, so we thought we’d check in and see how she was doing.’” She mimicked, cruelly. “Do you see how fucking simple that could have been?”

Sanemi only stared at her, his eyes an unfathomable mixture of sadness, remorse, and pain.

“But you didn’t,” Y/N said coldly. “You two fucked off and continued your merry little friendship together, so spare me the bullshit.”

“Y/N – Kyojuro cares. I care –“ Sanemi tried, but Y/N cut him off once more.

“Shut the fuck up!” She exploded, her hands flailing in front of her as she tried to push him away from her once more. “You don’t care, you never did! I’m just a warm body for you to fuck and that’s it.”

Y/N finally shoved past him, hand reaching for the door. “Don’t you dare pretend like I mean any more to you than that,” She spat.

She flung his door open, but Sanemi’s hand shot past her, slamming it shut once more. Y/N stood there, facing the door, chest heaving as she struggled to control her anger. “Let me go, Sanemi.” She said stiffly, refusing to turn around, to face him.

Sanemi’s hand found her shoulder and turned her around instead, and before she could blink, his mouth slammed down angrily over hers, his hands gripping her waist tight as his teeth nipped her bottom lip, demanding entry that Y/N couldn’t help but give him.

He was her weakness; always had been, always would be.

Sanemi pressed her against his doorway, a strangled groan tearing from his throat as Y/N palmed him through the sweatpants he’d haphazardly thrown on.

“Y/N,” he groaned as she increased the pressure of her hand slightly, her lips moving to his neck as she licked one of the small scars that lay near his jaw.

“I need you, Sanemi,” She murmured, and Sanemi’s eyes blew wide as he growled, arms locking around her middle as he heaved her up against his door.

Their lips met in a fiery exchange of tongue and teeth, biting, and sucking at the other possessively as they tore each other’s clothes from their body. Y/N ground down against Sanemi’s thick, bare length as it bounced against the underside of her thigh, the slick wet of her heat grazing him and causing him to moan in her ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Sanemi growled as he spun them away from the door, guiding them towards his kitchen as he laid her out over his counter, an arm only leaving its position at her waist to clear the assorted mail and spare keys he’d had organized there, letting it all fall to the linoleum floor.

Sanemi’s fingers worked their way between her legs as his lips wrapped around the peak of her breast and sucked, causing Y/N’s back to arch gracefully off the surface of his counter. His thumb stroked her aching bundle of nerves as his index finger swirled around her entrance, teasingly gathering her wetness around the calloused digit, before he sunk it into her, curling it so that he brushed against that sensitive spot on her front wall.

“Sanemi – ah,” she panted as he added yet another finger, her eyes nearly crossing at the sensation of his hand scissoring in and out of her, while his thumb continued to play with her clit. “I can’t wait – please,”

He hesitated for a moment, no doubt fighting every urge to sheathe himself within her heat in a single stroke, but he withdrew his fingers, nodding. With a surprising softness, Sanemi flipped Y/N over, pressing her down against the cool top of his kitchen counter, and used his knee to knock her thighs apart. One hand braced on her hip, the other gripped him at his base as he nudged her opening from behind, Y/N nearly drooled as she felt the hot, flared tip of his cock pressing flush against her entrance, and she rapaciously ground against him, eager to feel him inside of her.

Sanemi gradually eased himself into her wet, aching heat, no doubt taking his time because she’d demanded he take her before properly preparing her. Y/N whimpered at the stretch of her walls around him, as Sanemi groaned, loud and unrestrained, as he sank into her warmth, his chest heaving behind her.

One broad hand slid down the side of her leg, lifting it up to rest on the counter. With one long draw of his hips backwards, nearly withdrawing from her waiting cunt, Sanemi slammed back into her with a force that had her choking for her breath.

Sanemi began to fuck her, and she swore she saw the gates of Heaven.

With every sharp push and pull of his steely length, Y/N felt her eyes roll further back into her skull, as a stream of cries and whimpers poured from her mouth. She was helpless to do anything but push herself back against him as he pounded into her, slamming her back onto his cock over and over, as he moaned and cursed under his breath.

“Fuck,” Sanemi panted in her ear. “Y/N – just stay. With me. Please.”

But Y/N did not answer him; could not, due to the incessant roll of his hips into hers, as Sanemi increased the force with which he thrust into her with every passing second, threatening to snatch every sane thought from her head.

Sanemi pushed her leg further up on his kitchen counter, a hand coming to rest against a cupboard to steady himself as he thrust deeper into her velvet heat.

His lips danced down the back of her neck, biting and sucking. The drive of his hips forced hers to bounce against the counter, the cheap plywood and plaster biting into her hipbones with every impassioned thrust of Sanemi’s cock as he withdrew from her glistening core, only to slam himself back into her.

“Ngh, Sanemi,” Y/N moaned, pushing herself back against him, needing him to go faster, harder, to make her forget all the ways he’d made her feel lonely and unwanted.

He bit down on her shoulder blade as his thrusts grew sloppy. “God, you feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

Y/N was too enthralled by the hurried drag of Sanemi’s length in and out of her desperate cunt to care that he’d referred to her as “baby.” He could call her anything, anything at all, as long as he kept fucking her the way he was, against his kitchen counter.

Sanemi angled his hips and began hammering at the spot deep inside her that had her vision nearly whitening out.

“Fuck, S-Sanemi,” She whined. “I’m gonna cum—.” The ache in her belly flared the way it always did whenever Sanemi brought her close to her end.

“Not yet,” Sanemi groaned, though he found it difficult to keep holding himself back. “Stay with me a little longer, sweetheart.” One hand left its bruising grip on her hip in favor of reaching around her to squeeze at her breasts, as he rolled one of her nipples between his expert fingers.

“I can’t,” Y/N cried, begging. “Sanemi, please, oh please-,”

Sanemi removed his arms from her and brought them to the front of her knees, straightening her legs so they stuck out behind her, one braced on either side of his hips as he increased his rhythm, the loud clap of Y/N’s skin against the counter as he pounded harder into her threatening to drown out her moans.

Once he was sure she would not lower her legs, Sanemi’s hand came down against her backside, smacking her as he bounced her against him.

Y/N cried out in pleasure, beseeching Sanemi to do it again, and he obliged, bringing his hand down against her other cheek as she sobbed. Sanemi hissed as he felt the eager walls of her cunt squeeze him to the point of pain, keeping his bruising length locked within her as he chased his release.

The slight sting of his hand against the sensitive skin of her ass was too much for her to bear; with a keening howl, Y/N shattered around him, Sanemi following suit as his cum shot into her with a force that made him see white, her name the only mantra on his lips.

She was still in the thick of her orgasm when Sanemi abruptly pulled out, his cum dripping from her spasming core and onto the floor beneath them. She didn’t have time to protest, however, as Sanemi dropped to his knees behind her, where she was still spread wide for him, and began to feast upon her, his teeth and lips wrapping around her clit and sucking so hard, she nearly levitated off the counter, her thighs clamping tight around his head.

Y/N could not find it within herself to feel sorry for his neighbors as she screamed his name, her throat burning with the effort as Sanemi hauled her back to her peak and sent her tumbling over it once more, this time stronger than she’d ever felt.

He did not stop; he continued to suck at her through the prolonged waves of her climax, his warm fingers coming to slide into her opening and massage his cum into her quivering walls, making her see stars as his fingertips brushed the spongy part of her innermost wall, her legs spasming around him.

A gush of fluid sprang forth from her, thoroughly coating Sanemi’s face and he groaned with satisfaction, pressing his mouth even harder against her, as though the mixture of his cum with hers was the most intoxicating elixir ever to pass his lips.

Y/N’s pleasure-delirious sobs were muffled against the counter as the aftershock of her successive orgasms wracked through her, her body quivering from the exertion. As the spasms in her cunt subsided, Sanemi finally stepped away, pressing featherlight kisses against her spine, so gentle in contrast with the delightfully brutal way he’d just reminded her that she’d never be able to run away from this – from him.

Sanemi rocked back on his heels, hands braced against the counter as he caught his breath. “Let me clean you up,” he said after a moment, his voice hoarse.

Y/N’s limbs had been reduced to liquid, so she did not complain as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bathroom.

He sat her gently on the edge of his tub and moved behind her to turn the water on, holding his fingers under the steady stream until it was hot – just the way he knew she liked it.

“I don’t want to take a fucking bath here,” Y/N snapped, turning to glare at him. “Just give me a towel and be done with it.”

Sanemi recoiled slightly, and it made her chest hurt. “Was – was that okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Only in every way a person could be hurt, but not through his actions in the kitchen. She wanted nothing more than to take his face in her hands and kiss him, to assure him that, at the very least, she’d loved every second of the way he’d spread her across his counter. But the love in Y/N’s heart had turned it into a black, decaying lump, and so, her response only matched her rotten core.

“It was fine – we’re not a fucking couple,” She snatched a washcloth from his hand and shoved it under the faucet, dampening it and then moving to wipe it between her legs. “So, stop trying to act like we are.”

Sanemi stood back, his arms folding across his chest and his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled after a moment. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It was the gentleness with which he spoke to her that enraged her even more, even though she knew she was being irrational. “It’s whatever,” she muttered, folding the used washcloth back up and laying it neatly over the edge of the bathtub. “I’ve gotta go.”

Sanemi nodded and left the bathroom, still naked himself, and returned with her discarded clothes and underwear. Once he’d passed them to her, he retreated back to his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Y/N tried to ignore the guilt in her stomach when he did not emerge to say goodbye, as she opened his front door and disappeared into the mid-day sun.

—————————————————————————

All of her friends were traitors.

Not one of them was in the mood to venture out with her, not even Mitsuri, who was newly in a relationship with Obanai, the moody, awkward boy having finally plucked up the courage to confess his feelings for the bubbly pinkette.

Thus, Mitsuri no longer needed Wisteria or sticky drinks to feel high; she had love.

Y/N was happy for her – really; but she wasn’t happy to lose her reliable going-out friend.

So Y/N was on her own at the Kizuki lounge, though she didn’t really mind all that much. She’d become such a regular in that dark den of iniquity that a few other lost souls recognized her as their own and were only happy to dance with her. Unfortunately, however, Shinobu was nowhere in sight, and thus, Y/N was left utterly without the comforting lull of her friend’s Wisteria.

As Y/N pounded back another round of shots, wincing at the burn of the green apple liquor which slid down her throat, a sultry voice spoke.

“Well, it’s rare to see such a beautiful thing like you alone in a place like this,” Y/N turned and saw a familiar yet unnerving pair of eyes – the same she’d seen a few weeks earlier at the club, the first night she’d danced with Sanemi – blinking at her.

He was familiar – she’d seen him around on campus and knew him to be relatively involved with student life. Y/N scoured her brain, trying to place a name on the white-haired man smiling at her like she was something to be devoured.

“Douma, right?” Y/N recalled, and the man nodded, his smile widening revealing a set of too-sharp canines.

“I’m flattered you know my name,” his voice was almost flirty, if not for the sickeningly sweet edge in it that set the hair on her arms standing. “Though, I only know you as Shinobu’s friend,” he pouted.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You know Shinobu?”

The man with the jewel-colored eyes nodded, smiling dreamily. “Shinobu and I are old friends – business partners, even. And me and her sister go way back.” Douma reached out and toyed with a loose strand of Y/N’s hair, and she fought the urge to shudder. “Tell me your name, gorgeous? I’ve seen you around, though Shinobu always barks before I ever have the chance to talk to you.”

Y/N laughed, softly. “Shinobu’s bark is always worse than her bite, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Douma leaned in close, and his cologne was strong and sensual in a way that made Y/N’s head feel fogged. “And what about your bite? Surely, someone who hangs around with Shinobu is bound to pack a bit of a punch.”

He knew how to flatter, she’d give him that. “I’m afraid I’m all bark, Douma.” And, because she felt lonely, and because she felt a little desperate, she added, “Though I might be inclined to bite if given the right incentive.”

Douma tipped his head back and laughed, deeply, and it made Y/N’s heart flutter. “You are something, aren’t you, Y/N? I can’t believe your friends would let you wander out by yourself.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and helped herself to the smiling man’s drink, his grin only widening as she polished off its contents. “I need no babysitter, unfortunately for them.”

“No you do not,” Douma purred. “Well, since you’re a free agent tonight, how about you come by my place? My roommate and I are throwing a huge party – I’d bet nearly half the campus is there already.”

Y/N didn’t doubt it; Douma’s parties were something of a campus legend.

“And, I believe I have something that might make it worth your while,” Douma smirked, pulling a small plastic baggie from his pocket. Within it, sat three of those coveted lilac pills, and Y/N’s mouth watered.

“I think that’s exactly the kind of incentive a girl looks for,” Y/N teased, standing with Douma to leave the Kizuki, the latter’s hand coming to rest on the small of her back. Y/N and Douma chatted animatedly as he led her to his car, and Y/N could almost ignore the unease tugging incessantly in her stomach.

She shook off the feeling. After all, if she squinted hard enough, Douma could almost pass as Sanemi.

—————————————————————————

Kyojuro answered his phone with a noncommittal grunt.

“Akaza?” He said, surprise coloring his features. Sanemi perked up at the name of the boy from their hometown but was filled with unease at the way Kyojuro’s face darkened.

“We’re on our way.” Kyojuro clicked his phone off and met Sanemi’s questioning look.

“You know that party on 52nd? We need to go — now.” Kyojuro was already rising, his wallet and keys in hand.

Sanemi didn’t question his best friend, but his phone dinged in time with Kyojuro’s, and both paled at the text image they’d received from an unknown number, sent to each person in their friend group.

It was an image of Y/N, though only half her face was visible — but it was clear she was crying and she looked fucking terrified. Mascara streaked down her cheeks as she held her arms up protectively in front of her. But those too-thin arms could not obscure the blooded, crescent-shaped bite mark just above her breast.

Shinobuuuu your friend is lovely! The message below the image read.

A second, follow-up message dinged. Next time, fucking pay me, hm?

Kyojuro looked back in horror at his best friend but broke into a cold sweat as he beheld the murderous rage that caused his friend to tremble.

“Let’s go.” It was all the white-haired man said as the pair slammed Kyojuro’s apartment door behind them and head for his car.

—————————————————————————

“There you go, Y/N – you should be safe here until we can get you out, yeah?” The pink-haired man opened a door to a hidden closet behind the stairwell in his private room, one he knew with certainty that Douma knew nothing about. “I called you a ride already.”

Y/N sniffled, wiping at her cheeks as she brushed by the man to sit on a trunk sitting in the closet. “Thank you, Hakuji. I owe you one.”

Akaza smiled and shook his head. He’d always liked Y/N – she was always kind to him growing up, and she was one of the few people to call him by his actual name, rather than that abhorrent nickname that he couldn’t seem to shake.

“Nah, I can’t stand that fucker,” Akaza grimaced, checking behind him to ensure no one had snuck in and found them hiding. “Douma always takes things too far. I try to help when I can, but I don’t have eyes everywhere.” He frowned as he considered her. “I’m just glad I saw him bring you in.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, instead only nodding. Akaza sighed. “I’d better get back to the party. Douma’ll go snooping if he can’t find me and I really don’t want to risk him finding you again.” He began to push the door shut. “This locks from the inside. Don’t open it for anyone else – I’ll come get you when your ride is here.”

Y/N nodded. “Thanks again, Hakuji. Say hi to Koyuki for me the next time you see her.”

Akaza smiled warmly and closed the closet door, sealing Y/N safely within.

————————————————————————-

For Y/N, sitting alone in that cramped, dark closet, it felt like hours had passed since Hakuji had locked her away, out of sight from Douma’s unnerving eyes. Y/N was getting antsy, until the sound of gasps and screams from below set her stomach twisting with panic. She began to hyperventilate when she heard footsteps – two pairs, one heavier than the other – rapidly approaching the closet door as the knob began to twist.

Tears were leaking down her face, hot and fast, as a knock sounded against the door.

“Y/N!” Someone hissed. “It’s me – open the door.” It was not Akaza on the other side, but a much warmer, much more familiar voice that had her nearly sobbing with relief.

With a shaking hand, Y/N flipped the lock and the door swung open, revealing the most comforting presence she’d ever known.

Kyojuro stared at her, a mess on the floor of Hakuji’s closet, his expression unreadable. Leaning towards her, he closed a warm hand gently around her wrist and hauled her to her feet, his eyes running over her as those scanning for injury. His nostrils flared at the small dab of blood that had dried on her shirt, concealing the bruising bite mark below.

Kyojuro’s burning grip remained on her as he led her out of Hakuji’s room – the pink-haired man nodding reassuringly at her as she passed him by. Kyojuro halted at the top of the small staircase to the main floor, an eerie silence interrupted only by an occasional gasp below.

He turned back to Y/N, his face stony. “Don’t look,” he warned. “Keep your eyes forward until we get out of here, no matter what.”

A lump formed in Y/N’s throat as the pair descended the stairs, slowly. They almost made it to the front door, where Y/N could see Kyojuro’s car pulled half-onto the lawn outside, still running, when a strange wet thump snapped Y/N’s attention to the adjacent room where party attendees had been dancing only moments before.

Y/N froze as she took in the crowd, gathered, and parted around two men, hunched on the floor, as they all looked on in stunned horror.

It was Sanemi, with Douma pinned beneath his knees, as he mercilessly pounded his fist into her would-be assailant’s face.

Douma was covered in scarlet, and the swollen features of his face were nearly unrecognizable as Sanemi slammed his knuckles into him, over and over. Douma only wheezed out a laugh, apparently egging Sanemi on.

Y/N parted her mouth in horror, ready to call out for Sanemi to stop, but Kyojuro tugged her sharply through the front door and away from the grisly scene.

“Don’t,” he said, softly. “Let him get it out.”

Kyojuro hauled her to his car, pausing only to open his passenger door before gently pushing her to sit down in the worn seat. Y/N didn’t challenge him as he reached over her and buckled her seatbelt, noting the fire raging in his eyes.

Her friend rejoined her on the driver’s side and pulled roughly out of the yard of Douma’s party house, speeding off down the street. Y/N opened her mouth to speak – to say anything, when Kyojuro held up his hand as his other pulled his phone free from his pocket. He read something on the screen, before clicking it off, returning his eyes to the road.

“It’s Tengen – cops have been called.” He explained, his voice low and face hard.

Y/N swallowed thickly. “Sanemi’s going to get arrested.”

Kyojuro snorted. “If Tengen shows up first, Sanemi will be fine. The cops have been looking to bust Douma for months.” Kyojuro slowed at a stoplight and cut his eyes over to where Y/N sat, curled on his seat, looking so small and so vulnerable.

“Y/N,” his voice possessed a gentleness she didn’t deserve, and it only made her mash her lips together in an effort to keep the tears in her eyes. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

She flinched, folding her arms tight across her chest, the spot where Douma bit her aching. Slowly, the memory of a phone camera flashing in her face, mere seconds before Hakuji had exploded into the room, cursing up a storm at Douma as he’d covered her with a blanket, blitzed out of her mind.

“The photos,” she whispered, hands covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, god –,”

Kyojuro’s hands tightened on his steering wheel, his knuckles white. “Y/N,” his voice cracked, just like her heart. “If you’d rather me call one of the girls, I will --,”

Y/N shook her head, urgently. “No, no, Kyo, he didn’t – he only bit me.”

Kyojuro’s grip on the steering wheel relaxed, though only marginally so. “Only bit you,” he repeated, shaking his head in disgust, that cold rage still pulling at his face, contorting the face she loved into something brutal, violent, and unforgiving.

He looked back at her as she trembled in his passenger seat. “What do you need, Y/N?”

Y/N fought to keep her voice steady. “Can – can you just drive, Kyo? Please?”

He nodded, and the two drove in silence for an hour, her friend randomly getting off and on the interstate as the sights of the city passed them aimlessly by.

Kyojuro abruptly pulled his car over to the side of the road, coming to a stop and slamming it into park, before turning to look at her.

“Y/N,” the sound of his voice was so strangled, so pained, that Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her face, and into her lap. “What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N sobbed quietly into her hands. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, Kyo.” Her vision was completely obscured by the saltwater that would not stop, her breath becoming panicked.

“I don’t even remember fucking it all up. All I know is I was so fucking angry with you two, and now -,” Y/N cut herself off with a hiccup.

“It’s all so fucked,” her breath was choppy as her tears increased, her hands rising to clutch at her chest. “You – you and Sanemi --,”

Kyojuro got out of his car and walked around to her side, opening the door to tug her out of the passenger seat and into his arms, crushing her against his chest.

“Y-you left me,” Y/N sobbed into the thin fabric of his tee shirt. “I needed my friend, and you left me,”

“I know,” Kyojuro’s tears dampened her hair. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“H-how could you do that, to your best friend?” She cried, clutching his shirt in her hands until her knuckles turned white. “You were my brother, Kyojuro.”

“You promised things would be okay, and then they weren’t. And you didn’t even try.” Y/N pushed away from him then, anger burning through the tears in her eyes. “Friends don’t do that; family doesn’t do that.”

Kyojuro looked as broken as she felt. “I broke every promise I made to you, I know,” he said hoarsely. “I swore I wouldn’t let you get too far away --,”

Y/N exploded.

“Get too far away?” She swore at him, hands angrily wiping the salt from her cheeks. “You abandoned me, you left me hung out to dry!”

Y/N’s hands balled to fists at her side, as she shook. “Sanemi at least arguably had an excuse. You had none. Nothing about what I did — what I said — meant I deserved that,” her eyes, angry and broken, met his own teary gaze once more. “I didn’t deserve that.”

“Y/N,” Kyojuro started, but the furious girl cut him off.

“Shut up, Kyojuro,” she snapped, and for once, the flame-haired man looked lost for words. “Do you have any idea what it was like? To watch you and him carry on as though nothing happened – as though I didn’t fucking exist?”

“And when my mom got sick? She used to feed you and your brother, you – you – selfish asshole,” Y/N was nearly hyperventilating in her ire, as twenty-two months of heartache, pain, and rage boiled out of her all at once. “And you couldn’t even check in?”

“I tried,” Kyojuro cut her off, somewhat forcefully, at her last accusation. “I tried to check in, Y/N. During the summer – I saw the ambulance leaving your house, but I couldn’t leave Senjuro by himself.”

“I came by the first thing the next morning, but no one answered. You --,” Kyojuro hesitated. “You must’ve still been at the hospital. I should’ve checked.”

Y/N laughed without humor. “Visiting doesn’t matter. You had a phone. You know how to use it, and you couldn’t send a fucking text.”

The blonde exhaled, and the tiredness on his face softened some part inside of her, made her want to hug him because deep down, she hated that Kyojuro could ever look so worn down.

“Nothing I say is going to make up for it. I know that.” He whispered. “If I could turn back time, I would, Y/N. Please believe me when I say I would.”

Kyojuro dragged a tired hand down his face, smearing the tears across his cheeks as he did so, and he looked toward his old friend, brokenly. “But I’m here now,” He said, pleadingly. “I’m sorry if that’s still not enough; I understand if it isn’t. But please, let me be here for you, now. Even if that means you hate me.”

Y/N did not expect to break so suddenly, but the sight of Kyojuro openly weeping before her, combined with the bruising sincerity of his words, whittled away all of the hardness she’d built up and struck her right in her heart.

“Oh Kyo,” Y/N shuddered a sob, her shoulders shaking under the weight of her tears as Kyojuro stepped forward once more and enveloped her in his arms. “I could never hate you,”

For the first time in nearly two years, Y/N returned Kyojuro’s hug with the same ferocity she once had, and part of her hoped, oh so timidly, that the force with which he embraced her would slowly work to put her back together again – to make her whole.

The two almost siblings melted into one another, each one muttering a litany of I’m sorrys, and I love you‘s. For a long while, the pair stood there, on the side of the road, swaddled in the other’s embrace as they sobbed together, for both the children they once were, and the adults the world had forced them to become.

Eventually, the pair found themselves back in Kyojuro’s car, still driving with no real destination in mind; only this time, the two blasted music from their high school days and loudly sang off-key together, laughing carefree as their broken hearts mended, song by song. They drove until Y/N yawned, and Kyojuro sternly, but teasingly, noted it was well past her bedtime.

“You scare the shit out of him, you know,” Kyojuro said after a long while, eyes still fixed resolutely on the road leading to Y/N’s apartment.

Y/N, who’d been watching the blur of stars in the night sky as they sped down the highway, rolled her head toward him to look at him, her face skeptical. “Sanemi? Sanemi Shinazugawa, scared of me?” She scoffed, turning her attention back to the night sky as it whizzed past her window.

Kyojuro reached for her hand, and Y/N could have cried at how warm and comforting it felt. “He thinks he’s lost you for good. He does regret how things went down, you know; he did from the get-go.”

“I think he’s afraid he’s going to wake up one day and find you’ll just be gone entirely. Completely unreachable.”

Y/N stretched her fingers to play with the series of necklaces Kyojuro had dangling from his rearview mirror, admiring the way they twinkled under the passing streetlights. “He would have to care to be afraid, Kyo, and you and I both know that he doesn’t care about me.” She chewed on her lip. “Not in that way.”

Kyojuro finally pulled to a stop in front of her apartment. He took his time putting his car in park and shutting it off, before turning back to her, his face solemn. “If you can’t see how crazy he is about you, then I don’t know what else I can say.”

The fire in his stare was scorching, and Y/N fidgeted under the intensity of both his gaze and his words. “He barely knows me, Kyo. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Kyojuro said, though not too harshly. “You might want to believe you’re a different person now, but you’re still you. I promise you, you’re still the Y/N we both know – and love.”

Y/N’s tear fell down her cheeks anew, as she’d not realized how badly she needed to hear that she was still herself – that she wasn’t just a shell of the person she once was, never fully present and never fully worth giving a damn about.

“I think you want to believe he doesn’t care because it makes it easier on you to pretend like you’re just using him.” Kyojuro’s words cut through her like a knife.

Y/N winced and opened her mouth to respond, but Kyojuro raised a hand, silencing her.

“I’m not saying you mean to,” Kyojuro’s words stung, but they were earnest. “And I don’t necessarily think you are – but I think you’re running from him, because you are frightened.”

“What would you have me do, Kyo?” Y/N asked, slightly exasperated as her head thudded back against the worn fabric of his car seat.

“Are you still in love with him?” Kyojuro asked, and it took great effort for Y/N not to roll her eyes at him. “Then you must let him in, Y/N. He wants your love – very much so – of that, I’m certain.”

“He has always wanted my love,” Y/N snorted. “He’s like a jealous, possessive dragon that way. The problem is with him returning it.”

Kyojuro sighed, before getting out of his car and rounding to her side, opening her door for her. “As I said before,” he reached a warm hand to muss her hair as she stood, stretching her stiff limbs from the hours they’d spent driving around the city. “If you can’t see how crazy Sanemi is about you, then I can’t help you.”

Kyojuro’s lips pressed against her forehead, warm and steady, and it felt like home. “Give him a chance, Y/N. Let him into your heart, and he will gladly give you his.”

—————————————————————————

After ensuring Y/N was safely inside her apartment, Kyojuro continued to drive for another hour.

The emotions of the night weighed too heavily on his shoulders, and Kyojuro knew going back to his apartment would end in nothing but him tossing for hours in bed, replaying the last conversation with Y/N in his head, over and over.

—————————————————————————

One year earlier

“Where’s your date, Shinazugawa?” Kyojuro chuckled, reaching for a beer. He was disheartened to see that only one was left, Sanemi having finished at least three since arriving at his place.

“Called off,” Sanemi said thickly, his words slightly garbled as he tried to fake his own sobriety – the surest sign he was already drunk off his ass.

Kyojuro clapped his shoulder sympathetically. “You or her?”

Sanemi took another swig of his drink. “Me.” He looked up at his best friend and Kyojuro was shocked to see how forlorn and sad the hothead looked. “None of ‘em are her.”

It was rare that Sanemi brought her up, especially in the wake of everything that had happened after Genya’s death. But Kyojuro hadn’t been foolish enough to think that a substantial part of the chip on Sanemi’s shoulder hadn’t stemmed from his complicated feelings about her – Y/N.

Their best friend, at least, once upon a time.

Though as Kyojuro supposed, it wasn’t as if Sanemi’s feelings about their friend were really all that complicated. He’d known the abrasive loudmouth had longed for the trio’s only girl since any of them had understood what it meant to long for someone.

Kyojuro had seen his friend’s feelings on display countless times since they were teenagers. He saw it in the way Sanemi’s eyes softened every time she smiled at him, or the way Sanemi seemed to always lean into her touch whenever she brushed something from his hair.

Then, there had been that time after Y/N had her braces put in – they’d been around thirteen or so – and she’d refused to smile with her teeth, until Sanemi had snapped at her and said she’d looked constipated.

Y/N’s eyes had filled with tears, and her cheeks had burned with her embarrassment until he’d squatted down in front of her.

“Why’d’ya wanna hide your smile anyways – it’s too pretty.” He’d said, very matter-of-factly, leaning in close to her face as he always did when he teased her. “C’mon, show me! I wanna see your smile!”

Shyly, Y/N had smiled at him, braces and all, and Sanemi had grinned back, nodding in satisfaction. “See? What’d I tell ya? Pretty as a picture.”

Then, there had been their senior prom, when Sanemi had gotten wind of another boy’s plan to ask her to be his date. Though the big dance had still more than six months away, Sanemi had stormed into the cafeteria, plopped down from her as she ate with the Koyuki girl, and demanded she attend with him.

When the night of their prom arrived, Kyojuro thought Sanemi was going to pass out the moment he saw Y/N descend the stars at her mother’s house, dressed in that floor-length emerald dress. Throughout the whole night, Sanemi had treated their best friend as though she were made of glass, his hands for once hesitant and uncertain as he’d found her waist during a slow dance. Kyojuro had truly thought his friends would finally, finally kiss and admit their poorly concealed feelings for one another. But Sanemi had returned Y/N to her mother, the latter only parting with a soft kiss against the flustered boy’s cheek before disappearing inside.

How could they have known that night, just how far they’d all fall? How could they know how Genya’s death would shatter more than his brother, but indelibly fracture their life-long bond and transform them into total strangers?

————————————————————————

Ten months earlier

Kyojuro didn’t mind working for the enrollment center at Ubaya-U.

Sure, the work was a little tedious, if not monotonous, especially at the start of a new semester, but at least that meant his shift passed him by quickly.

That particular day, Kyojuro had been tasked with finalizing the class registers for his year – the juniors – as the add/drop period had finally passed, and thus, schedules were to be finalized for the semester.

He’d spent hours tabbing through page after page of student schedules, entering data and clicking the small arrow at the bottom of his screen to move onto the next student ID number, over and over, until the figures on his computer blurred together. But Kyojuro had finally entered the schedule for the last student, and he was eager to hit “ENTER,” and get the fuck home.

His back aching and wrist cramping, Kyojuro hit the command key that promised release.

ERROR. The screen read. ONE OR MORE ENTRIES MISSING.

“Fuck,” Kyojuro muttered, and he hit the “ENTER” key once more, in hopes that the system had merely hiccupped after having been in use for so long.

The same ERROR message flashed across his screen once more.

Kyojuro exhaled, pinching his nose as his eyes screwed shut in frustration, the beginnings of a headache creeping in around his temples. Shoving himself away from his desk, Kyojuro stood and stalked over to his supervisor, who was just as numbly tabbing through a spreadsheet.

“Murata,” Kyojuro said, trying to keep his growing anger in check. It was a Friday night and he just wanted to go home and do stupid college things, dammit.

The tired shift supervisor grunted in answer, turning in his swivel seat towards the fuming college junior.

“I entered all of the student schedules, but the system is flagging some sort of error.” Kyojuro produced a printed-out spreadsheet of every student ID number and handed it to his manager, who took note of the neat, precise little checkmarks next to every line that signaled Kyojuro had finalized the correlating schedule. “Can you take a look?”

“Sure thing,” even though Kyojuro often thought Murata was, at times, a little inept at his own job, he couldn’t deny the college senior was helpful. Murata pulled up the school’s informatics system and entered his log-in, clicking through various prompts until his screen resembled Kyo’s.

Murata tried to submit the same data that Kyojuro had tried, and the same error message dinged on his screen.

“Huh, that’s odd,” the manager said, unhelpfully. “Let me see if I can use my admin key and find out if there’s anyone you missed.”

Kyojuro resisted the urge to point at his spreadsheet once more; Kyojuro, simply put, never missed an entry when it came to plugging in numbers and codes for work. The same could not be said for Murata.

“Ah, there it is,” to Kyojuro’s surprise, a student profile popped up on Murata’s screen in red, though his supervisor’s head blocked the name. “Number ending in 0851. Let me just –” Murata clicked around the screen and quickly tabbed in a couple of course codes, and hit enter, but the screen erred once more.

“What the – ohhh, I know this number,” Murata said, sitting back in his seat. “Yeah. Okay. You need my code to bypass this one. She got special permission from the university to not finalize her schedule until next week.”

Kyojuro sighed. At least the error hadn’t been on his end.

“Got a pen? You’ll need her name to enter it once the screen prompts you. In the explanation box, just type “special permission/family emergency.”

Kyojuro shook his head. “I’ll remember it. What’s the name?”

“Y/L/N. Y/N.” Murata answered flippantly, though Kyojuro’s stomach lurched. “Yeah, I got an email about her a few weeks ago because she hadn’t returned to campus. The Dean said her mom was in the hospital, and she was the sole caretaker, so her professors all agreed to let her attend online until things mellowed out.”

“Never seen that happen before, she must be one helluva student,” Murata commented as he turned back to Kyojuro. “Hey, in the entry box, put her date of return – I think I remember the email saying it was sometime next month, but let me check.” The supervisor turned back to his screen, blissfully unaware of Kyojuro’s wide eyes or his pounding heart.

“There it is – hm, there’s an update,” Murata remarked, though more to himself than to the pale Junior standing behind him. “Oh my, that’s a shame. Looks like her mom passed away last week, so she’s returning after the funeral, which was --,” Murata squinted. “Yesterday.”

“Yup, seems like she’s due back next week instead. Just put down Monday’s date.” Murata turned back to Kyojuro with a kind smile, but it quickly slipped when he saw the sweat that had broken out across the burly blonde’s forehead and noted the way he shook.

“Rengoku, you good, man?” Murata asked worriedly, though Kyojuro barely heard him over the roaring in his head and the sound of his heart-shattering.

“Y-yeah,” Kyojuro’s voice cracked. “Murata, would you mind entering that information for me? I feel like I’m going to be sick.” Kyojuro did not wait for his supervisor’s answer as he grabbed his backpack and stumbled out of the Student Affairs office, as he fought to keep down the bile that rose in his throat.

Kyojuro did not remember the walk back to his apartment; he remembered only the rush of grief, and crushing sadness, as he recalled the kind woman who’d shown him such love and affection after his own mother died, that he’d thought of her as a second mother.

He thought of Y/N – oh god, Y/N, who now lived in a world in which she had no family left. No home to go back to.

Alone.

He hadn’t known; Sanemi hadn’t known.

Kyojuro stumbled through the front door of his apartment, vaguely noting that Sanemi had already let himself in, and helped himself to whatever was in Kyojuro’s well-stocked refrigerator.

“Man, I’ve had a fuckin day,” Sanemi’s gravelly voice rang over the muted sounds of his television as he chowed down on a helping of sweet potatoes Kyojuro had meal prepped a few days earlier.

“Sanemi,” Kyojuro tried weakly, though Sanemi seemed not to hear him over his own, loud complaining.

“-and four papers, and we’re barely a month into school. I can’t wait to fuckin’ graduate and get the hell out of this place --,”

“Sanemi,” Kyojuro said again, more forcefully that time, cutting his friend’s impassioned rambling off. At the serious, monotonous tone in his best friend’s voice, Sanemi fell silent. “It’s Y/N, she – h-her…”

Kyojuro’s voice wobbled. Sanemi dropped his fork into the plastic container that contained Kyojuro’s food and stared at him, eyes wide, as he sucked his breath through his teeth. Whatever news his friend had to deliver, it would not be good.

“Is – is Y/N okay?” Sanemi asked tentatively, his voice shaking slightly. He felt the color drain from his cheeks as Kyojuro slowly shook his head. As childish as it seemed, Kyojuro wanted to run, because if he did not speak those awful words, then perhaps they would not be real.

“It’s Mrs. Y/L/N – she…she died. Last week. The funeral was yesterday.”

————————————————————————-

Nine months earlier

Sanemi barged into his apartment without knocking, nearly toppling over the coatrack Kyojuro kept in the entryway.

“Shinazugawa,” he’d started to chastise, but fell silent at the look on his best friend’s face, a strange mixture of nausea and despair etched into his features.

“I saw her, Kyo,” Sanemi croaked, pale and shaking as he ripped open Kyojuro’s fridge and grabbed a beer, not bothering to ask as he wrenched the bottle cap off and took a healthy swig.

“Y/N?” Kyojuro’s eyebrows furrowed, as he followed his friend into his sparsely decorated living room, Sanemi shakily sitting on the small sofa, head braced between his hands.

“Did you talk to her? How was she?” Kyojuro pressed, but Sanemi refused to lift his head to meet his eyes.

“I saw her,” Sanemi repeated, his voice trembling almost as badly as his hands. “And I didn’t know it was her.”

Kyojuro shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean -,”

“I didn’t recognize her, Kyojuro. Not at first,” Sanemi finally looked up and Kyojuro’s stomach twisted at the tears pooling in his friend’s eyes. “How could I not recognize our best friend?”

Kyojuro threw an arm around Sanemi’s shoulders. “It’s been a while,” he said, gruffly, “It’s just been a while since we saw her –.”

“You don’t get it,” Sanemi said, wide-eyed and haunted. “Y/N looks different – she’s so fucking thin, Kyojuro, that I couldn’t recognize her.”

————————————————————————

One month earlier

“So you – you and Y/N,” Kyojuro began, and Sanemi nodded, dragging a hand over his face.

“I am never touching that Wisteria shit again,” the lavender-eyed man vowed, darkly. “I fucking lost control.”

Kyojuro frowned, his stomach shifting uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

Sanemi flung himself back against the cushion of his sofa, arm draped over his eyes in an attempt to stifle the tears that gathered there. “I fuckin’ hurt her, man.”

The blonde sighed, settling back against the sofa with his friend, thumbs twiddling with a loose string on his shirt. “You didn’t mean to, you know. Sometimes that just – it just happens.”

Trust Sanemi to be this dramatic being Y/N’s first – the man had practically screamed into the phone at him when he’d discovered the small speckle of blood on his sheets and realized that Y/N was nowhere to be found.

Though, Kyojuro never imagined Sanemi would be this frantic about the ordeal.

Sanemi lowered his arm to stare at his best friend, bewildered. “It doesn’t fucking matter,” he ran an anxious hand through his hair. “I can’t fucking trust myself on that shit, and I’ll be damned if I hurt her again.”

“I’m done with it all, Kyojuro,” Sanemi swore once more. “For her, I’m fuckin’ done with it.”

————————————————————————-

Two weeks earlier

Kyojuro jogged to where his friend stood, smoking a cigarette as his eyes scanned over the various food trucks that had gathered on the street near his apartment, considering the wide variety of choices.

“You’re the only person I know who could make that look somewhat appealing,” Kyojuro grumbled as Sanemi took another drag, grinning. Sanemi had quit both alcohol and Wisteria cold turkey but had become such an irritable bitch as he went through withdrawal that Kyojuro had practically begged him to find something to help him take the edge off.

So, Sanemi had traded one vice for another and had taken to smoking, though he could tell his friend hated it. Sanemi hoped that his shakes would soon subside, and he could kick the nasty habit before it became another problem for him to deal with.

“What are you in the mood for?” Sanemi asked as the pair began to leisurely stroll around the crowded plaza. “And don’t say sweet potatoes – we’ve been eating healthy all goddamn week; I need something greasy.”

Kyojuro chuckled. “I’m quite in the mood for a burger if you’re up for it.” He offered and Sanemi nodded in agreement. The pair joined the relatively lengthy queue outside a food truck grill, the scent of charcoal and meat promising to feed their empty bellies.

The pair made small talk as they waited, Sanemi nearly finishing his cigarette in the time it took them to reach the front of the line. Just before they were set to order, Sanemi’s phone dinged in his pocket, and the white-haired man pulled it free, puffing on the last of his cigarette as he did so.

“Ah, shit,” Sanemi sighed, though he did not look particularly crestfallen as he glanced back to his friend. “Sorry, man – duty calls.”

Kyojuro scoffed at his choice of words. “Duty,” he shook his head. “You mean Y/N?”

“You’d feel that way too if you slept around –”

“Yeah, but it’s not just ‘sleeping around’ to you, is it?” Kyojuro asked pointedly, and Sanemi fell silent. “You don’t sleep with anyone else. Does she?”

His friend shook his head. “Nah, we made an agreement – we’re – well, we don’t use condoms,” at the horrified look on Kyojuro’s face, Sanemi blushed. “She’s on birth control! ‘Sides,” Sanemi swallowed, awkwardly. “With all the weight she’s lost, and all the shit she’s been taking, I don’t think it’s likely she could – well, get pregnant.”

Kyojuro pinched his brow between his fingers. “Pregnancy isn’t the only reason to use condoms, you dolt,”

Sanemi harrumphed at him. “Look, I used protection with the other two girls, and I got tested not long after,” Sanemi quickly drew his cigarette back to his mouth, a sure sign of his growing discomfort with the conversation. “And, as Mitsuri so tactfully pointed out, I was her first, so I know she’s clean.”

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Sanemi snapped at the reproachful look in his friend’s owlish gaze. “It feels better, y’know.”

Kyojuro only shook his head. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Sanemi?”

Sanemi looked away from him, shifting awkwardly back and forth on his feet. “You know why, man,” he said quietly, and Kyojuro’s heart clenched.

“Look, I love and worry after Y/N too, but she’s using you --,”

“So what if she is?” Sanemi croaked, taking a harsh drag of his cigarette. “She can use me as much as she wants. I don’t mind.”

Kyojuro’s eyes softened. “Sanemi –”

“At least it means I can keep an eye on her.” Sanemi flicked the dying butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his boot as he sauntered away, holding his hand up over his shoulder in farewell as he set off back across the lively street.

—————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N dragged herself up the stairs of the apartment she shared with Mitsuri and Shinobu, a tiredness she’d not felt in a long while settling into her weary bones. Her head ached from the strain of the evening, and she knew her eyes were likely red and puffy from the hours of her crying.

Shakily, she slid her key through the lock and opened her front door, quietly relieved at the darkened silence of her apartment, which meant both of her roommates were out.

Closing the door behind her, Y/N slid to the floor in the entryway, and did not move; for a long while, she stared blankly at the dark kitchen before her, her mind replaying her conversation with Kyojuro on a loop, though the mark on her breast, with its pulsing ache, demanded her attention.

With a sigh, Y/N heaved herself up off the kitchen floor and shuffled her way to her room, silently thanking her luck that she’d managed to pull the bedroom with the in-suite bathroom, which meant she could curl up on the floor of her shower for as long as she wanted, without the fear of either of her friends needing the toilet.

Once she’d stripped herself of the evening’s outfit, Y/N inspected the wound on her chest.

It felt worse than it looked. There was a small bit of dried blood around where Douma’s teeth had broken her skin, and the mouth-shaped mark was angry, red, and already a little purple, but from her cursory examination of it, it seemed like the wound was likely to only bruise, and not scar.

It was the unseen wound that concerned her more; the scar that was assuredly left on her heart.

She’d fucked up – badly.

Granted, she knew it wasn’t her fault that Douma had decided to try and do whatever it was he wanted to do with her – she wasn’t going to blame herself for that.

What was her fault was how badly she’d let things spiral out of control; how badly her use of the Wisteria had become. She wasn’t a medical student by any means, but she knew the tell-tale signs of an abuse problem. Y/N would not venture to say she was addicted, but she feared she was well on her way to that path – unless she did something about it right then.

She braced her hands against the cool porcelain of her sink and looked at her reflection, jolting slightly at the face that stared back at her.

She still looked like herself, granted, but there was an unfamiliar hollowness in her cheeks, a vacancy in her slightly over-large eyes that made her uncomfortable. She stretched and winced at the ease with which she could just make out the number of ribs laying beneath her skin.

Sanemi had been right – she’d let things go too far.

As she yanked on the shower nozzle to summon the water to chase away Douma’s sickening touch from her skin, Y/N resolved, right there, that she was done with Wisteria. She thought she should be done with alcohol as well, but she feared the symptoms of withdrawal – especially with how great her dependency on the two substances had grown over the last few months.

So, Y/N decided that she would never again allow those toxic little purple pills pass her lips, and slowly – but surely – wean herself off alcohol. She would not go back to the Kizuki, would not let herself give in to the temptations which flashed underneath the colorful strobe lights of the dance floor.

Her life, it appeared, depended upon it.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer smut #kny smut #sanemi x reader #sanemi x y/n #shinazugawa sanemi #kny sanemi #kny sanemi smut #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #hashira #hashira smut #demon slayer fic #demon slayer fanfic #sanemi smut #sanemi x you

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vxxxxed · 10 days ago

Note

I'd love to talk about Butcher!Simon. >u<

He's my favorite fucked up special boy. I like to think he has a set of Damascus knives that he keeps perfectly sharp.

Maybe he sees the reader coming in, buying the cheap stuff, barely talking to the cashier, scared when the package bleeds at the edges. He watches for them again, sending the cashier on break so he could talk to them finally.

Maybe they hand him a crumpled wad of bills. He notices the bruises on their arms. So what if the cut of meat he gives them is worth more than they paid? Can't have his shy birdie going hungry.

Maybe they come home one day to him sitting on their couch. Their abusive partner is gone. The tub is a little pink, but that's okay.

Maybe he reassures them through their tears that he's nothing like the meat he cuts up.

[TWs for idek how to tag this, brief implied cannibalism and kinda mentions of how you'd butcher your lover to eat them but it ends there and none of that actually happens and no one's intending for it to you're just talking about it?]

I was gonna say I don't have anything to add to this but if I may go off on a tangent (excerpt from a fic I'm working on), Ghost who is in the 141, left his old life behind (not like he had a choice when it was all taken from him anyway), but he retained all the stuff he learned when he was younger. You see a couple YouTube shorts from hunters explaining how to cut up their kills, and get interested about the process. And maybe that turns into some sort of weird form of intimacy between the two of you. (Alternative working title: Autism be Damned, That Boy Can Meat)

..."Bloody 'ell, watch the pet names there, luv. I might start thinkin' you fancy me or somethin'," he teased, his voice a low rumble that was honestly weirdly satisfying to listen to now that your cheek was pressed to his sternum. "If you wanna learn about cuts a' meat, might as well 'ave a quick lesson. You got a pen and paper there?" He asked dryly, his own form of humour as he rubbed circles against the back of your neck with his thumb.

"Start with the basics, yeah? Prime cuts are gonna be the tenderest, 'cause they come from the least-worked muscles. Ribeye, sirloin, that sorta thing. Gotta keep 'em cold to preserve the fat, though. You let that melt, and you lose flavour."

As he spoke, Simon's hands moved almost unconsciously, mimicking the motions of breaking down a side of beef. His slightly chilly fingers traced invisible lines across your back, mapping out different sections, trying to remember. "Then you got your secondary cuts - brisket, short ribs, that sorta thing. Tougher, but full o' flavour if you cook 'em right. Need time and low heat to break down all that connective tissue."

He hesitated, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tried to remember more specifics. "Ah, you got your off-cuts too. Offal, bones, all'at. Nothin' goes to waste in a proper butcher shop. Even got some fancy restaurants that'll pay good money for that stuff nowadays." Another pause, "Well, used to, anyway."

---

"Trying to figure out how you'd butcher me, Simon?" You'd giggled at the feeling of his fingertips tracing your ribs, but there was nothing but trust and love in your eyes.

Like his own perfect little lamb.

#call of duty #current wip #cod #cod mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #butcher!simon #butcher!ghost #this is shitty

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voxisdaddy · 8 months ago

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Sinful Alphabet

Saint Peter NSFW Alphabet

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Saint Peter x Reader

C/TW: NSFW (duh), Adam mentioned, Implied!Switch Peter, He’s mostly subbing, Dom reader, reader mostly written as fem in mind

MDNI

A/N: This is all written with the mindset that Peter is very new to sexual intimacy. I feel like as time went on, the answers would differ. Plus also I really like the idea of a virgin saint Peter so like-💀

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He’s usually in subspace for awhile after sex, so he probably wouldn’t do anything for the first several minutes. But he would love to hold your hand, stay close to you, and use his wings to wrap you both up snuggly together. Maybe ask if you’re hungry and want him to order anything for you.

B = Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also you)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ His favourite part of his body would probably have to be his hands. He loves running them over your body, through your hair, holding and groping you, fingering you, ect,. His hands are soft, delicate and always cold, loves how your body reacts to his touches.

His favourite body part on you is would have to be your mouth/lips. From how they feel against his lips, skin, wrapped around his cock, ect,. Plus the sweet pleasurable noises you make when you guys do it, with his name falling from your lips, gets him all needy.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ If you have a sweet tooth, you’d love the taste of his cum. He loves cumming down your throat the most. Watching you with watery blue eyes as you drink his cum like it’s your favourite milk is enough to get him hard again.

D = Dirty Secret (What’s their dirty secret)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ During a particularly long shift at the golden/pearly gates of Heaven, his mind wondered off to fantasizing about you sitting underneath the podium, milking his cock with your mouth as he works. He got so hard but was so embarrassed and ashamed of it, he couldn’t face you, Sera, and anyone else for the next several days. May or may not have thought about that fantasy the next time you gave him head though.

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ No experience. Not even in masturbation. You’re his first time ever. He’s been around for centuries and never did anything until you and him became a thing.

F = Favourite Position

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Saw @simphornies mention this and I 100% agree; Missionary and Cowgirl. He likes facing you and holding your hips, thighs, tits/chest, waist, ect,. His favourite is holding your hands though—he likes the intimacy and caring nature of it.

G = Goofy (Are they serious or goofy during sex?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Pretty serious. Maybe kind of goofy but in a dorky way? He wouldn’t crack a joke but he would maybe react kind of adorably and dork like since he’s so flustered. You pin him against a wall? “Ah—well—Uh..ha… hello there..” God he’s such a dork.

H = Hair (How well groomed down there are they?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Pretty well groomed. No bush, gets trimmed every now and then.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? Romantically speaking)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He loves being intimate. He definitely prefers making love over sex, any day! He loves whispering praises to you, whether or not he’s topping or bottoming, he will tell you he loves you and how perfect he thinks you are. A big fan of stolen kisses while you do it.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He feels kinda guilty doing it so he doesn’t do it often. Plus he prefers your hand, mouth, and body anyways so like—

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Praise kink (both giving and receiving). He has to let you know how perfect you are, how good you make him feel, and thank you for letting him touch and see your bare skin. When he receives praise though, he gets needy and kind of teary eyed, definitely sends him up to subspace quickly. Also gets really flustered and embarrassed. Oh you say he looks so pretty when he’s edged into oblivion? He’s definitely tearing up and whimpering.

He loves cock warming. He also hates it because come on! You’re being so unfair, sitting on his aching cock and not moving. Oh but he loves how closely intimate it is, how he gets to wrap his arms around you, holding you close, your hands entangling themselves into his hair, ect,. And when you do move? Oh my god he’s so relieved, he’s thanking you and moaning your name like it’s the only thing he knows how to say.

Overstimulation. He’s weak and is usually already a trembling mess just from a handjob, so he cums quickly. When you keep going though, sucking him dry, riding him, and milking him for several more rounds though? You could ask if he wants you to stop but he’s already babbling on incoherently about how he doesn’t want you to stop. Plus he likes how trembly he is when you’re done, cuz that usually means you take care of him and he has every excuse to cling to you as much as possible.

L = Location (Favourite place to do it)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Privacy of the bedroom. Your bedroom, his bedroom, shared room, hotel room, whatever. He just wants a big bed to lay on or to lay you on while you go at it like rabbits—with full privacy of course.

M = Motivation (What turns them on?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Honestly he’s kind of easy to turn on—especially when it comes to you. Whisper a few dirty words to him, pin him against a wall, tease him, bend over in front of him, ect,. It’s easier to just say ‘you’, honestly. You could go out for milkshakes and he’d completely innocently watch you lick the white substance from your lips and his mind goes places. Granted he feels dirty and embarrassed by it so please don’t tease him about it :c

N = No (What will they not do?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Anything where either of you get hurt-even just a lil bit—is off the table. Want him to spank you? No, no, sweetheart! Why would he do that? He just wants to worship you and love you.

Also anything where people could hear or see you. He hopes the bedroom walls are soundproof cause his jealousy side does not like the idea of anyone hearing your noises and seeing your body the way only he should get to see it. He once accidentally walked in on you changing and despite his very flustered state, he lightly scolded you for leaving the door unlocked. What if someone else walked in?! :c

O = Oral (Do they prefer giving or receiving? How skilled are they?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ As mentioned quite a few times already, he loves getting head from you. Your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock sucking, licking, and kissing—it drives him crazy. He’s not selfish though, he loves giving you head as well. Got a pussy he could eat out? He’s already sitting on the floor by the edge of the bed with your legs spread over his shoulders as he eats you out like you’re a delicious last meal.

He’s surprisingly good at it, despite having no experience before you came into his life. It mostly stems from him being kind of unsure of himself and just trying as much as he can so he can please you just as amazing as you please him. It works. Maybe a little too well though but that’s okay! He’ll spread your thighs apart and whisper sweet praises to you as he takes another lick of your sweet juices.

P = Pace (Fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He likes starting slow and getting faster. Slow because of the intimacy and being in the moment with you but as the night wears on, the more needy and desperate you both get and he just can’t get enough of you. He needs either you riding him until he can’t breathe anymore or his cock so balls deep in you that only his name is all you know.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies over proper sex)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He doesn’t…mind them. I mean, they still feel good and since it’s you, of course he’ll do it buuuuuut he prefers proper sex-er, love making. Honestly if you both don’t have enough time, oral is preferred. If you do get a quickie in though, please still hold his hand and make him feel loved when you’re done your little fun together. It’s the love and care that he craves.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, take risks, ect?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Not really. Public fun maybe, but that’s usually reserved for oral and even then, he wants/needs you guys to be somewhere at least 98% private. Want to suck him while spending the day at the beach? Yes, sweetheart, of course you can but please not here—let’s find someplace a lot more secluded, okay?

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go? How long do they last?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He cums quickly and gets hard from a few dirty words and naughty touches from you. In other words he’s sensitive as fuck but please don’t stop, he loves the overstimulation and those pretty noises you make. The most he’ll be able to go is about 4 rounds before it starts feeling so overwhelmingly good that it actually starts to hurt. If you can still go however, he’s more than happy to let you sit on his face. He’ll be so lost in subspace, the only thing on his mind would be you and the taste of your pretty pussy.

T = Toys (Do they have any toys?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Adam gifted him a fleshlight once, just to be a dick and tease him. You guys do use it though sometimes—mainly when you feel particularly cruel and want to tease him. Straddle him, using the fleshlight to jerk him off while he sits there trembling and begging for you to stop teasing him. It feels good but you just feel so much better.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Despite how subby I made him out to be, sometimes he’ll take charge. He’s definitely a switch, leaning more towards bottoming. When he’s topping though, he likes to tease you by eating you out over and over. It’s one of the few times he gets to hear you whine and whimper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, as he drives you so, so close! One of the other reasons he teases you like this, is because he knows he doesn’t really last that long in bed compared to you. So getting you all needy, desperate, and wet for him is basically part of his plan to get you to cum good and all over him when he finally fucks his cock into you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds do they make?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He’s pretty loud. He doesn’t scream but he isn’t like, a quiet fuck either. He whimpers, moans, and begs—doesn’t matter if he’s topping or bottoming. If you peg him-or you got a dick-though, he’s screaming in pleasure. Tries to be quiet, not that successful.

W = Wild Card (random nsfw headcanon)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ LOVES lazy morning sex. You’re both so sleepy, yet so needy, loving, and clinging to each other the entire time. It’s like you can’t keep your lips off of each other. When he’s topping, he loves hovering above you, holding your body close to him, exchanging many loving good morning kisses as he finds a nice steady rhythm to fuck his cock into you nice and deep.

When you’re topping he likes sitting up against the pillows and headboard as you lazily ride and grind against him. His hands he wouldn’t know what to do with as all he wants is to keep touching you and keep you close. Definitely always kissing each other though. He loves it when you eat each other’s moans like this ♥︎

X = X-Ray (What are they packing?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He’s pretty average at about 5 inches. Fully erect though he’s about 6 inches. His cock is decently thick. Like the rest of him, it’s paper white but the head has a golden hue. Surprisingly heavy balls—probably from the literal centuries they’ve gone having not been emptied.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Not high so he wouldn’t really initiate that often. If you initiated though, that’s another story. It just needs to be with you and plus only you can really get him going. If you have a high sex drive, don’t worry, you won’t be flying solo a lot. And when he gets into it, he gets into it. Could and will go hours upon hours because of you.

Z = ZZZ (How quick they fall asleep afterwards?)

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ It takes a lot out of him, especially when he’s bottoming/subbing. So he can easily fall into slumber but he loves the aftercare so he stays up until your both settled. Then he’ll allow himself to drift off to sleep with you right next to him.

A/N: I’ve been wanting to make this for so long and then finally at like 1am I was like, you know what… I’ll do it. And now it’s 4am and my sleep schedules ruined—

Heh, worth it though

Also might’ve went a bit ham on the “Kink’s” portion I’m so sorry 💀💀

#hazbin hotel #saint peter #st peter #hazbin hotel saint peter #hazbin hotel st peter #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alphabet

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writerblue275 · 8 months ago

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Heartsteel!Kayn NSFW Alphabet (18+)

Previous Members: Ezreal

Inspiration: I mean A. feral hours. B. This is for @mysticdelphox97 and everyone else who is absolutely wrecked by Kayn. 😏 Enjoy! (Again used the NSFW alphabet template from @the-coldest-goodbye.)

Champion: Heartsteel Kayn

Genre: Headcanon

Type: HAHAHAHA NSFW. COMPLETELY NSFW. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader

TW: Swearing, discussion of NSFW activities/kinks. Ex: Semi-public sex, mention of BDSM. Smutty as FUCK.

Extra: Implied settled relationship!

LOOK AT THIS SEXY FUCKER!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Fully believe Kayn is better at aftercare than people might think him to be. Yes he can be wild in bed and take a lot, but he also gives a lot. He’s not a selfish lover. He cares deeply about you and wants to make sure you’re fully enjoying yourself with him. He understands that extends to aftercare, especially after an intense session. Will wash you off and help you into a bath/shower and get any snacks/beverage you might need.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Himself: His hands. He loves how you respond when he tugs your hair and moves his hands around your body. His hands can do a lot of good things and he knows it.

His partner: Your lips. Whether wrapped around various parts of him, kissing his neck, moaning his name, when he’s nipping them, etc…Kayn absolutely loves your lips.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His absolute favorite place to cum is your mouth. You on your knees waiting with open lips? One of his very favorite sights.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

As discussed in a previous headcanon (HERE), Kayn has a secret phone with photos and videos of you/you and him which he takes on trips. Obviously you know about it and he only started taking videos and pics once you and him talked about everything extensively and you consented to him doing so. Everything on that phone is for your eyes and his eyes only.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing)

Kayn’s probably the most experienced of Heartsteel. Definitely knows what he’s doing (even better for you).

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy-style. Absolutely doggy-style. Or in general anything where he can hit it from the back. He loves being able to control the pace and being able to pull your hair a little bit (if long enough).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Can’t see Kayn being super goofy, per say. Teasing? Absolutely, but goofy no. He’s pretty serious/focused/in the zone when it comes down to things.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Keeps things pretty tidy. Definitely doesn’t match the drapes though. (Lmao can you imagine?)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ok so in general Kayn’s not super romantic when it comes to sex. Definitely a guy who prefers “fucking” to “making love.” But if you ask him, or he can tell you want him to slow it down and be more on the romantic side, he fully can and he does it well. (A/N: I wish there was a better phrase to describe romantic sex because “making love” just sounds so fucking awkward.)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Oh absolutely he jacks off. No question about it. Probably every day and occasionally multiple times a day. Of course, nothing compares to time with you, but you can’t be around him 24/7 and a guy has to do what a guy has to do.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

HAHAHA It’s easier to say what his kinks aren’t! This sexy motherfucker (affectionate) is kinky as hell.

Some of his big ones though: dirty talk (giving), BDSM, edging/orgasm control (giving), and semi-public sex.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

While he definitely enjoys having you to himself, there really is something about semi-public sex that excites Kayn. The boldness, the risk, the excitement, it all drives him wild.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kayn is a man with a very high sex drive. It really doesn’t take much to turn him on. Give him bedroom eyes and he’s pulling you into a dark corner to at least make out. He sees you wearing something of his at home? Well let’s just say you won’t be wearing it for very much longer 😉.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Age play. As kinky as he is, age play is just something he cannot get into.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He definitely prefers to receive oral. As stated earlier, seeing you on your knees for him is a sight he absolutely loves. But dont get it twisted, Kayn will gladly reciprocate and it’s something he’s extremely talented at.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely a more “fast and rough” sort of lover. Loves when he’s able to get your noises to the point of only gasps and broken attempts of his name. But again, Kayn can occasionally surprise you and go slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fucking fan of quickies. Kayn’s down to have a quickie whenever you are, really. Since he loves semi-public interludes, quickies are a staple for that.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Risk is Kayn’s middle name whether in or out of the bedroom. He’s always down to try something new, especially if it makes things better for you as well. (Again, he’s not selfish as a lover.)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh man Kayn has quite a bit of stamina. In one sitting, he can go like 3-4 rounds as long as there’s a short break in between. His refractory period is remarkably short. If it’s not a quickie he can last around 20 minutes a round, with each following round after the first getting a little shorter.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

This is an interesting thing to consider. Yes Kayn does, but they’re mainly for you. He might have one or two toys for himself, like a cock ring or a plug of some kind, but most toys he has he bought as your physical relationship progressed and he figured out what you enjoy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kayn’s a master at teasing you. He will rile you up in public then pull away. He will lean over and whisper something absolutely filthy into your ear at random and inconvenient times where you can’t slip away. He’ll send you NSFW teasing voice messsges and texts. He loves to make you blush and he loves making sure he’s on your mind.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Definitely louder when not risking something semi-public, but even then he can’t fully silence himself. Low growls, groans, moans, and dirty talk galore, Kayn will audibly express his pleasure.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Will absolutely fuck as Rhaast, mask on and everything, and his intensity is turned up to 14/10. Like those are the truly wild nights, but boy are they fun as hell.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Around 6”. Fairly thick with a little curve to one side at the tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

No question Kayn has the highest sex drive in Heartsteel. He just really enjoys sex and enjoys having it often.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

During nights with you Kayn definitely doesn’t fall asleep immediately. He’s up for a little bit, making sure you’re alright and even cuddling or partaking in some surprisingly intimate and occasionally vulnerable pillow talk. This is the time when his walls are the most down.

#writerblue275 feral hours #Heartsteel #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel x reader #reader insert #headcanon #heartsteel smut #Heartsteel Kayn smut #Also I stand on the hill that he's more dom #And I will die on this hill. You cannot change my mind.

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whotfelsewantedtobelynnyx · 3 months ago

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So I’ve seen a couple posts about the DELIGHTFUL possibility of Zestial/Carmilla/Rosie and although it’s not the most realistic ship I’ve ever seen in this show…something about it just makes my brain go

So have some headcanons!

TW: Some mild implied sexual content and mentions of alcohol. It is Hazbin Hotel 🤷‍♀️

- Zestial and Rosie are both enamored with Carmilla’s hair. Rosie is constantly trying to convince her lover to wear her hair down more often, while Carmilla insists she wears it up because Rosie CANNOT resist playing with it (and really, she can’t). Zestial, on the other hand, just likes being allowed to help her brush and style it. He claims he enjoys the intimacy of the act. Rosie argues that he just ALSO enjoys playing with Carmilla’s hair.

Zestial, gently running a brush through Carmilla’s hair: Mine dearest, what, pray tell, befell thee to put thy locks in such a state?

Carmilla, leaning back in his lap with her eyes closed: Rosie.

Zestial, subtly smacking something away with the brush: Ah.

Rosie, who had been sneakily winding a piece around her finger: >:(

- Her impressively long hair is also why Carmilla has banned showering together in her home (“If you want it so badly, you can pay the water bill.”) It already takes her the better part of an hour to wash, condition, and then restyle it without any…distractions.

- Cannibal Town is significantly further away from Zestial and Carmilla’s territories than either are from each other. Rosie keeps a little box of knickknacks stashed in her vanity (handwritten letters from Zestial, a bottle of Carmilla's perfume, and various jewelry that she's stolen from them both) for when she can't make it to see her lovers for too long.

- Carmilla sleeps in the middle when they share a bed. This isn’t necessarily out of preference (in fact, she’s really not a big cuddler and would probably sleep on her own mattress at least some of the time if given the chance) but because both her partners are INCREDIBLY cold bodied and insist on being curled around her much warmer self when they sleep.

- Carmilla is also CONSTANTLY sleep deprived. It’s mostly her own fault (she takes the phrase “working yourself to death” to a whole new level), but every once in a while she suffers from a bout of actual insomnia, which leaves her miserable to be around the next day. Zestial usually gets sent in at that point to convince her to take a break (and a nap), because she’s least likely to snap at him.

- Zestial is partially nocturnal due to his somewhat spidery traits. He still enjoys staying in the same bed as his partners, but spends at least part of the night simply just watching them sleep. Carmilla took awhile to be comfortable with it (though she warmed up to it eventually) but Rosie found it sweet.

- Rosie and Zestial often bond over classic literature, like a weird little two-demon book club. They’ve tried to include Carmilla in it in the past, but she shuts it down every time (she loves them both, she does, but what little she understands she finds either dull, depressing, or both). She will, however, drop by with a cup of tea and a kiss for each before leaving them to their own devices.

- Both Carmilla’s partners have a good relationship with her daughters. However, Zestial is more like to a second parent to them, whereas Rosie is closer to a fun aunt/godmother (which gets her in trouble sometimes)

Clara: Rosie, will you take us downtown tonight?

Rosie: Hmm. What’d your mama say?

Odette: She said no.

Rosie: Then why’re ya asking me?

Clara: Because she’s not the boss of you.

Rosie: Huh. Well-

Zestial, interjecting with a pointed look at Rosie: In fact, I do believe she is. Of us both, dear one.

Rosie: …yeah, that’s probably right.

(Side note- 90% of the time, Carmilla absolutely is the boss of them both. In more ways than one 😉)

- Zestial is the only person Carmilla will let see her cry.

- Both C and Z have some chronic pains from throughout their lives/afterlives (Carmilla gets horrible migraines, while Zestial has some old wounds in his back and shoulders that never healed properly, as well as some joint pain in his wings that flares up when he sleeps on them awkwardly). When it gets too bad, the other will usually take over their work for the day so that they can go to Rosie’s and rest.

- Rosie, for her part, enjoys fussing over her partners a little too much- while Zestial sort of enjoys the attention, it can be a bit much for Carmilla when her head’s already killing her. She can’t stay too mad though, especially when being cradled in Rosie’s arms like that is so soothing and she can tell Rosie left off her usual perfume and hairspray out of consideration to her headache.

- Rosie has a pretty high alcohol tolerance and can usually function fairly well when she’s been drinking. The only exception is when she goes out with Alastor. Carmilla hates these nights because she then has to go and haul them BOTH home.

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kmt123whatsthetea · 1 year ago

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George weasley NSFW alphabet

Kinktober 2023

My laptop has finally been fixed and the fanfic finished. I haven’t been as active as I would like to have been for kinktober but maybe I’ll do some Christmas stuff closer to the time. Anyway, here’s a horny alphabet, have at it

TW: Kind-dom George (I always imagine him being the softer twin, idk why), Breeding kink, implied marking (through biting and spanking etc), mentions of DDLG, choking, mention of sub George, thigh riding

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

George always holds you tight and gives you a million kisses. He’ll always let you know just how good you were and how much of a good girl you are. He will only get out of bed if you ask for something. He won’t let you lift a finger after sex.

B = Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partners)

He loves your hips. He loves squeezing them when he stands behind you and he loves placing his hand on your hip when you both go out for the night. He also loves holding your hips when he's burying himself inside of you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s either cumming inside or he’s not cumming at all. He absolutely adores the idea of you being pregnant and the thought of you being swollen with milk leaking from your breasts will make him cum in his boxers like a horny teenager (and then he’ll be all pouty because he didnt cum inside you, but he’d definitely try to collect it on his fingers and stuff it inside of you)

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I think his dirty secret would involve him being a bit rougher with you (he gets this idea after seeing you with Fred). He would love to mark you as his, whether it's through bite marks, hand prints, or body writing. If he tries it, he’ll be obsessed with tying you up and writing on your body. He’ll write things like “Dirty whore” “My Bunny” “Cum Dump” “Bite Me” “Breeding Bitch” and anything else that makes his dick hard

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s got quite a bit of experience. Being on the Quidditch team meant that the girls practically threw themselves at him, his brother, and other players. He fucked a few of these girls, picked up a few tricks on how to make a woman very happy. Luckily for you, he puts those tricks to good use every time you both go at it.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

Either missionary or cowgirl. He loves watching your face because he can't imagine a prettier sight, but he also loves when you randomly straddle him and start riding him. He will still be somewhat in control (if you haven’t taken control this time).

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He can be, but it all depends on his mood and your mood. There are times when he tries to be goofy to cheer you up and it leads to sex (it's not the same but it's close). There are times when he will crack a few jokes and make smart quips but he only really does this towards the end of having sex when you’re both coming down from your highs.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I feel like he prefers to keep it trimmed and neat. He won't fully shave but he will like to keep it clean and tidy. The carpet definitely doesn't match the drapes. It seems to be the opposite. His hair is long, his down there hair will be short, almost shaven. His hair is short, his down there hair will be about the same length.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Ginger Don Juan. This man is so romantic that his second job would be a poet. He loves taking you to dinner with rose petals and candles. Sex is the same, for sure. On anniversaries, he will go all out with silk sheets and dimmed lights while he slowly fucks into you. He’ll hold you close and make sure you feel so loved. (it doesn't even have to be an anniversary, just when he's in a romantic mood)

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He doesn't jerk off that much, surprisingly. Maybe twice or three times a week. He just doesn’t get turned on that much. But when he meets you, he stops jerking off all together (why would he need his hand when he has your perfect body to play with as he pleases.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Does a praise kink still count if he gets off on giving praise? If so, then he has a praise kink. He has a little bit of a dumbification kink. He loves making you so cock drunk and dumb. He has an edging and overstimulation kink. He adores the way you writhe from being too sensitive and the way you whine when he stops pleasuring you. Teasing, he loves it. It's more of a condescending teasing, like telling you how greedy your pussy is and that you're too dumb to take care of yourself so he has to do it for you. DDLG. he loves treating you like his innocent little girl while you call him daddy.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He isn't one for risks so he prefers anywhere in your flat. He prefers the bed or the bath or the sofa. Maybe he can be persuaded to fuck you against the window overlooking Diagon Alley (I know its risky, but he secretly casts a disillusionment charm and a silencing charm to make you both invisible and silent) poor guy just doesnt want anyone else seeing your tits with a fucked out look on your face

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

When you give him those innocent little doe eyes and say vulgar and dirty things. Coming back to the ddlg kink, he loves when you randomly walk up to him and call him daddy. So random yet so hot. He will drop everything he's doing and carry you to bed.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He's against overly hurting you. He’ll spank you and overstimulate you but he'd never slap you across the face or pull your hair too hard. I feel like he'd be against choking you too hard. He doesn't mind wrapping his fingers around your throat but he’ll never go as far as making you dizzy or oxygen starved.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s more of a giving man. He loves the sound you make and the way you feel on this tongue. He adores the feeling of your thighs against his ears and how your legs tremble after you cum against his mouth.

He doesn't mind receiving if it means that he gets to look at your teary eyes as you try to take him all. He’ll tease you by telling you that your mouth is just too small for his big cock and that you need him to train your throat.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be either fast or slow but there's always a sensual element to it. No matter what you guys are doing, he always wants you to feel loved by him. Sometimes he’ll make his pace slow and torturous just to tease you and make you beg.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn’t one for quickies. He prefers to take his time making love to you. Even if he has the time for a quickie, he’ll use that time to give you sweet kisses and promises for a passionate evening. He doesn’t like quickies because he doesn’t think that it's enough time to appreciate your beauty.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

No. even when there's a chance to take a risk, he just doesn't like risks. He's happy to experiment as long as it's not too public and stays within both of your comfort zones. Don't think that he’s predictable, he’ll always find new ways to keep things interesting and new.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

This man has stamina for days. He can last a pretty long time but he will adapt to his partner. Although he likes overstimulating you, he will stop immediately if you even let out the faintest pained sound. He’ll apologise and stop for the night.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He owns a vibrator and that's it. He likes using it on you while fucking you because of the way you feel around him and how wet you get. Sometimes he’ll use it to edge you, but only if he's in a playful mood. He doesn't really like using dildos because he likes how tight you are (it doesnt matter that he fucks you nearly every night, you still feel so tight to him).

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

It really depends on his mood. If he’s in a teasing mood, then you better be in for a long night of being edged and tortured by this ginger sweetheart. If he’s in a romantic mood, then it's completely the opposite and he’ll make you cum as much as you can.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Again, it depends. If you persuade him to be submissive, he will be a loud whiny boy. He is definitely the type who begs for you to touch him and pleads to cum. When he’s in charge, he grunts and lets out breathy sighs.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

If you ride his thigh, he will cum in his boxers. He adores the feeling of your thighs squeezing his and the wet feeling of your cunt soaking through the material. Whether his hands are on your hips guiding you or he’s letting you use his thigh, he’s happy and horny. If he’s wearing his work trousers and you ride his thigh before work, he won't change his trousers. He’s wearing the stains like a badge of honour.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Being a twin, his dick is identical to his brothers. But he does have a few defining characteristics (his dick does anyway). He has one vein that becomes prominent when he's being edged. When you give him oral and focus on that vein (trailing it with your tongue or sucking it) he gets loud.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a high yearning but he pretends that he doesn't so that he can tease you. He loves when you come to him all needy and beg him to touch you but he just carries on with what he was doing. Sometimes his sex drive will wane and he’ll be in more of a mood to cuddle than to fuck but apart from that he has a pretty high sex drive.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He falls asleep after you but there are some occasions where he will fall asleep first. If he’s been submissive and you’ve really taken a toll on him then he’ll be out like a light. But the majority of the time, he will only fall asleep after he’s tended to you.

#george weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley x fem #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley smut #george weasley headcanon #kinktober

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malarign · 1 year ago

Text

jay as your boyfriend!

(soft moments with him)

contains: bf!Jay x gn!reader (implied that reader wears a dress but no pronouns were used) | genre: fluff | tw! mention of food, kissing, crowds | wc: 1,4k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreaciated!!!

other members’ versions: LHS - SJY - PSH - KSW - YJW - NRK

➶ wiping food off your face *ೃ༄

Jay and you were truly a match made in heaven. Both of you shared many hobbies, one of them being cooking and trying out new recipes from around the world. What you both enjoyed after cleaning up the kitchen from your activities was eating the meal you prepared. Sharing what you liked and disliked about the dish and discussing what to do next time to perfect the recipe you often got a bit of sauce or some scrumbles in the corner of your lips. They wouldn’t be there for long though, Jay was always quick to wipe it off your face.

“I really like the texture but I think it needs a little bit of lemon juice, don’t you think?” you asked taking another bite of the meal.

You looked at your boyfriend, Jay who sat in front of you. He looked down at his plate, brows furrowing as he munched on his bite.

“You think so? I would say more soy sauce would do,” he suggested looking at you.

“Actually I read somewhere that if something tastes bland it might need some sourness.” You took another bite.

As you were eating you noticed how a smile grew on his face. You were confused at first, but when he reached to your lips and wiped a sauce off them with his thumb you also put a smile on your face.

“Should we try it out now, then?”

➶ zipping up your dress *ೃ༄

Him doing that was a highlight of you getting ready for dates or when you just decided to wear a dress. The way he gently put your hair out of his way, his fingers delicately touching your skin while doing so. Usually, you would stand in front of a mirror while he helped you so he could see how you blushed when his eyes were plastered on yours for this whole time.

Jay turned you around so that he could face you after he was done zipping up your dress. Too mesmerized by the way your eyes held stars within themselves he just leaned in and plastered a passionate kiss, hands wandering on your sides, as you placed yours at the back of his neck, deepening the intimacy.

When you finally pulled out of each other’s arms you looked at him, a serious look suddenly appearing on your face.

“Jay Park, maybe you could tell me how I look? After all, you bought this dress,” you spoke and your confidence made you look even more attractive in his eyes.

He smiled and eyed you up and down, making you regret your question, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Oh my dear Y/n, you look gorgeous,” he said and bent down to kiss your palm making you giggle to yourself at his chivalrous action. “You are gorgeous,” he said, this time putting your hair behind your ear and placing his warm hand on your cheek.

➶ smiling while you’re talking about something you’re passionate about *ೃ༄

Jay is a man of many hobbies. His passions like guitar, dance, singing, music in general, and his never ending curiosity of the world made him much more attractive in your eyes. What you didn’t know was that he had the same feelings when it came to you. He often found himself so immersed in how you’re telling him about what you found out about your fields of interest. Unconsciously he would smile slightly at the way your tone changed, how your gestures became bigger and your eyes shined with passion.

Jay listened carefully to your monologue about your recent obsession which was an ancient history of Rome. At first, he tried to join you in the talk since he also grew an interest in this period during his high school years, but then the pure urge to just listen to you talking avidly about it made him want to listen to your voice and watch how you couldn’t sit at one place from the emotions it brought to you.

The dreamy look on his face made you think for a second if he was truly listening to you.

“Jay? Are you listening to me?” you asked, worried he was bored by your rant.

“Of course, love,” he reassured you. “I love it when you’re talking about things that you’re curious about,” he confessed, helping you realize his true feelings about you.

➶ pulling you closer in his sleep *ೃ༄

For you and Jay nights together looked pretty similar. At first a little bit of talking about your plans for the next day, some soft loving touches, and then laying down to finish the day. You never had any problems with sleeping at night, but still, you couldn’t top how quick Jay was to doze off. And you couldn’t blame him - the amount of work he had during the day often drained him, yet he still tried to not let you know how sleepy he was at the moment. That’s why you were the one to fall asleep much later than him. Whenever you took a little longer to doze off, you felt his arms unconsciously wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to his body.

His hot breath fell on the back of your neck sending waves of shivers down your spine. Knowing he wouldn’t wake up from your movement you turned around to face him, his arms still messily wrapped around your body. Seeing his features in a faint moonlight that poured through your bedroom curtains made you smile to yourself. He looked so peaceful, the pout that formed on his lips made him even cuter than usual.

You raised your hand and gently brushed his short, black hair to the back, leaving a few scratches at the back of his head.

“I love you, my love,” you whispered and soon you also fell into a deep slumber.

➶ kissing your hands and tips of fingers *ೃ༄

When you first started dating Jay you didn’t expect how soft his heart truly was. Full of surprises he never failed to make you melt at his actions that expressed nothing but pure love and affection. What made your heart flutter the most was probably the way he kissed you dearly, especially your hands. Whenever you were getting ready to go to sleep he would take your hand in his and plant soft kisses on its back and tips of your fingers.

“Your hands are so soft,” Jay spoke in a baby voice making you giggle at his cute side.

Soon he started leaving tickling pecks all over your hands, firmly holding you as you tried to seize it from him, but it was all in vain.

“Jay it tickles!” Your laugh and the sensitivity of your fingers just made him want to tease you more. He only stopped when you pulled him into a sweet kiss, finally leaving your hand alone, now busy with your lips.

➶ taking your hand firmly in his when in a crowded place *ೃ༄

Knowing how uncomfortable you got in places where lots of people gathered, Jay took taking care of your comfort as his duty. And he was great at that, either by asking you questions if you wanted to go somewhere else or you were feeling good enough to stay. But in places where those solutions wouldn’t be possible he would simply take your hand firmly in his and forced your way through people that surrounded you. His grip and occasional thumb rubs made you feel a lot better.

You looked at the now pretty much-crowded place you were having your mini-date with Jay. The number of people there doubled or even trebled, making you feel how your heartbeat started to increase. Before it started to race you heard Jay’s soft voice in a room full of noise.

“Love, I think we should go as quickly as it’s possible. Let’s not wait, okay?” Jay suggested, a worried look making you feel at ease.

In response you simply nodded your head and grabbed his hand interlocking your fingers with his. He started guiding you through the crowd and worked your way to the exit. Your gaze was fixated either on your feet or his head, which turned around from time to time to check on you.

In a minute you were out, fresh and cool air hitting your skin helping you relax. In contrast to the inside the night seemed peaceful, just like you almost didn’t have to go through a huge amount of people.

“Are you okay, love?” you heard Jay question and smiled at him.

You climbed on your toes to plant a sweet kiss on his jaw.

“Yes, thank you, Jay.”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

permanent taglist: (send an ask to be added) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @kpopstanmeg, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @edensgardenn (in bold can’t be tagged)

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zoeykallus · 11 months ago

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Hello! 👋

I LOVE your work and the way you capture the personalities of the characters. You're incredibly talented.

I'd like to request an 18+ one shot with Crosshair (fem reader) that's a little different than normal...

Cross is always very cold, rough, and distant, so I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if he started being gentle with the reader. But still in a Crosshair kinda way.

Here's what I was thinking (TW, i briefly mention the reader having past sexual/relationship traumas): The reader and Crosshair have worked together on and off for years. They never really talk about personal things or get emotional because they're both kinda similar. But they have feelings for each other that are on a deeper level than they've experienced before with others. Something happens where they end up being alone and emotionally vulnerable in front of one another (perhaps Cross saves the reader from something and gets all protective and has to calm the reader down from panicking and it gets steamy 😳🤤) and it basically ends in getting laid. But perhaps the reader is afraid of romance and intimacy from past experiences that Crosshair knows a bit about, and he truly loves her so instead of being quick and rough with her, he starts really slow, gentle, and sensual and it gradually gets more intense 🤭.

Take your time and prioritize your mental health!!

And I know that this could potentially encompass some heavy topics, so don't feel obligated to write this! 🫶❤️

Aloha!

🤔 Okay, I needed a while to read through all this and I did it repeatedly because for some reason nothing of it stuck in my head. That's what sleep deprivation does with you, no focus at all.

Now, I don't think Crosshair is always very cold, rough and distant. First of all, he's mostly playing it. I think it's mostly part of a self-defence act. 'Stay professional and don't let anyone get too close.' That stoic pure soldier behavior is kinda like a shield I think. Well, at least in my HC. Anyway, I know what you meant, so never mind 😅

Let's see if I can do this...

Crosshair x Fem!Reader One-Shot - The Unexpected Gentleness

Warnings: Angst/Tension/Protective Crosshair/ Soft Grumpman Crosshair/Suggestive/Described Sexual Intercourse/Spicy Handsy Stuff/ Implied Past Trauma Of Reader/Soft Smut(?)/18+

AC: A hundred years late, I'm finally done with this request. This may, or may not be, the longest One-Shot I've written so far... I don't know anymore by now, it certanly feels like it. I definitely wrote too much stuff to remember 😅 Didn't proofread this yet, because I'm close to keeling over any minute, sorry.

You never thought you would end up in this situation. Crosshair and you have been separated from the rest of the group by a storm. Since you were supposed to explore a cave system anyway, and you are protected from the storm inside, you continue to explore and scan the tunnel system. However, you are not the only ones seeking refuge from the storm in the caves. The group of black market smugglers you are looking for are also there. It all happens very quickly, from one moment to the next you are attacked. Blaster shots fly through the tunnel system and echo off the cave walls. Your flashlights only partially illuminate the cave, many dark corners where the enemy could be, remain lightless, and so two of the men are able to sneak up behind you. Someone jumps into your back and rams you hard to the ground, at first you can't breathe, you feel a knee in your back, your attacker holds you on the ground while he takes off everything you could have used as a weapon.

The impact was hard and painful, you gasp for air in panic as it almost feels as if the oxygen will never return to your lungs. The helpless position you find yourself in stirs up panic in your mind. There it is again, air, frantically you breathe in and out far too quickly. Your eyes are burning, fine stone dust and tears. You can't move, you can't defend yourself, you can't breathe properly, you can't even find your voice to scream. Then you hear a thudding sound, a startled gasp and in the same second the weight is gone from your back. You roll around, crawl to the cave wall and crouch down. You nervously scan the surroundings with your flashlight. Crosshair. He is standing over a man, presumably the one who was kneeling on your back earlier. The man on the ground is no longer moving, Crosshair is standing over him with his blaster. The Sniper looks in your direction, shielding his eyes with his hand against the beam of your flashlight. "Stop blinding me," he growls. "Sorry," you stammer, lowering the flashlight beam. You tremble as Crosshair crouches down in front of you and takes a closer look at you. "Breathe evenly, slowly, in and out. You're hyperventilating."

You blink several times, then force yourself to breathe in and out slowly, feeling your pulse finally calm down. "That's it," Crosshair grumbles, "Keep breathing," and helps you to your feet. He shakes his head and growls to himself, "That's what you get for having to take untrained staff with you"

For a second you want to say something defiant, but you see the look on his face and swollow it down. Usually you can handle his sass and grumble, but you are still shaken from what happened.

You bow your head in shame and silently follow him further along the tunnel system to a junction that looks like a small room. Slightly elevated from the rest of the tunnel, a slightly larger alcove. "We'll camp here for now," says Crosshair, and takes off some of his equipment, including his backpack and its contents. You do the same, and you pile up your blankets so that you can sit and lie reasonably softly. He also sets up a camping light, so you can see each other. Crosshair steps to the edge of the alcove, away from the blankets, and silently, impatiently beckons you towards him. You hastily follow his invitation, still with your head bowed. You hear him sigh, then you feel his hand under your chin. He forces you to look at him and scrutinizes your eyes. "You need to rinse your out your eyes, or they'll get infected. They're already red. You have stone dust in your eyes" He hands you his water bottle, which you take with a shaky hand. But when he sees the trembling in your fingers, he takes the bottle from you again.

"Head to the side and open your eyes," he demands curtly. You comply with this request too. You squint as he begins to clean your eyes. "Pull yourself together," he says quietly, almost gently. After a while, he hands you a clean handkerchief with which you dry your face, then he asks, "How are things looking, do you still feel foreign particles in your eyes?" You blink to test, then shake your head. "No, it's all gone." Crosshair nods and hums, "Good" He sits down on the blankets he spread on the floor earlier and beckons you over. "Sit down" You comply and sit down next to him. When he takes off your jacket, you flinch and stiffen. Crosshair pauses and looks at you questioningly, then says calmly, "I want to see if you've been hurt, bruised or anything, things you might not have noticed under adrenaline" You take off your jacket yourself and say, "My chest hurts a bit, but I don't think anything is broken" He carefully touches you over your T-shirt and applies pressure to your ribs. "Does that hurt?" You shake your head. "No, it's more of a constant, slight pain. It'll just be a few bruises" "Can I have a look?"

You blink uncertainly. You actually trust him, but you're still hesitant. "What's wrong?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. You swallow and say quietly, "I had more than my fair share of unpleasant experiences in the past with letting my guard down with people, physically" He growls softly then says, "You can be sure that won't happen to you with me. I don't cross boundaries I'm not supposed to, you're in control. A simple word is enough." Crosshair sounds unusually gentle, and at first you can only look at him in surprise. But he doesn't push you any further, waiting patiently. Finally, you nod and take a deep breath. You take your shirt off over your head and sit next to him in your bra. He wants to stare, to take a close look at you, but he concentrates decently on your rib area. His fingertips glide carefully over one spot. The touch gives you goose bumps. "Here," he says calmly, "A slightly larger bruise, not too bad" You breathe a sigh of relief and smile nervously. "Turn around," he says gently, "Show me your back."

You do as you're told and feel his fingertips on your skin again. "It looks the same here, a bruise, nothing to worry about" His hand moves to the back of your neck, and you feel a gentle shiver run down your spine. He says a little growling, "That asshole got you pretty good, saw him sweep you off your feet. I was attacked by his buddy at the same moment, otherwise I would have reacted faster" "Thanks for saving me, I would have been lost without you" Crosshair snorts softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, "Indeed" You slowly turn to face him, still half naked, your shirt lying next to you on the blanket. He's not staring at your breasts though, but at your face as you say, "I'm sorry if I'm a liability on this mission" Crosshair rolls his eyes, but his voice sounds soft as he says, "You do your part, I'll take care of the rough stuff, we complement each other well enough" He studies your face in silence for quite a while, and you find it hard to look at him, you're always so nervous around him even though he doesn't really give you a reason to be.

Braver than you feel, you ask him, "What are you thinking about right now?" Crosshair blinks, looks back into your eyes and says, "About how much I'd like to touch you right now. But that's probably not appropriate. Apart from the fact that you probably don't want me to." Your heart starts to race. A mixture of joy, nervousness and a little fear flood your system. Your heart is beating so hard in your chest, you can feel it all the way up into your throat. You fight with yourself while he looks at you calmly, patiently, waiting. You're fascinated by him, you've liked him for a while, maybe you even have a crush on him. But you didn't expect him to say it so directly here and now. "You want to touch me?" you ask, as if you're not quite sure what these words mean. He tilts his head slightly to the side, then nods and says, "I'm thinking about it, yes. But having just seen how nervous my closeness makes you, I'm holding back." You say honestly in a low voice, "I just don't know how to read you. Sometimes you seem so considerate and thoughtful, other times rather harsh and rude" Crosshair raises his eyebrows, then says, "I'm a soldier, I can't always be gentle" You sigh softly and say, "I know that, I meant explicitly when dealing with me"

He frowns critically and asks, "I was rude to you? When?" "Not rude," you say hurriedly, "Just... grumpy" Crosshair rolls his eyes, but a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth. "I'm a bit impatient sometimes, that may be. I'm not used to working with civilian agents, even though we've known each other for a while now and have worked together from time to time. I'm usually surrounded by other soldiers. There's not much room for subtlety, especially in the field" You nod, you can understand that. Nevertheless, he is very different from his brothers, Wrecker or Tech, for example, are much more relaxed, even Hunter, but you keep this observation to yourself. "Quite understandable," you finally concede. His features relax a little, and he asks you, "Are you afraid of me?" You shake your head and answer without hesitation, "No, not at all" He smirks and says, "I think so too. If you were, you'd probably have put your shirt back on by now. Physical nakedness is also a certain form of showing vulnerability. If you didn't trust me, you would have covered up again long ago"

You blink and realize with surprise that he is right, your shirt is still next to you, you had almost forgotten about it. He slowly reaches out to your face and gently places his hand on your cheek. You hold still and look at him, fascinated, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin. His face comes closer, closer and closer. You automatically close your eyes a second before his lips touch yours. It starts with a gentle touch, almost chaste. A few breaths pass before you feel gentle pressure on your lips and return it. You let yourself be pushed backwards, slowly, gently, until you are lying on your back and Crosshair is halfway over you. His lips part from yours, and he lifts his head to look at you. "I had to try it now," he says with a smirk, "How do you feel?" For lack of better words, you say simply, "Warm" He chuckles softly. "Warm is good" You smile too, even though your heart is racing, you're not afraid of him or his touch, you know you're in good hands, you know you can trust him. He would never hurt you, never push you. You know that a simple word will be enough to put him at a distance again, that he will always respect your boundaries. You feel safe, and your hands wander over his arms, on his chest, over the cool material of his armor.

"Maybe I should at least take off the hard parts of my gear?" You nod and say, "That would be better" Crosshair straightens up again, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him remove one piece of armor at a time until he's wearing only the Blacks on his body. He lies half over you again, resting his weight on his arms and knees. Crosshair looks you straight in the eye and says, "You're not forced to do anything and I won't be upset if you'd rather have me at a distance, you can always say something and I'll back off" You smile at him and nod. "I know, I really appreciate that" He shakes his head and says, "That should go without saying, for everyone, you don't have to be grateful for that. But I noticed earlier how insecure you are and when you mentioned that you've had bad experiences, I thought I should mention it. I don't want you to feel forced into anything" You nod again. You automatically want to say thank you again, but you swallow it. "I don't feel any pressure at the moment" He kisses you again, this time more urgently, more sensually. Close to your lips, he whispers, "Tell me if that changes" You want to answer him, but then you feel his tongue gliding over your lower lip, testing, questioning, searching for access. Your lips open automatically and let him in. Your tongues meet in a velvety collision that sends a shiver through your whole body and makes the heat move under your skin, between your thighs. A soft, sweet sigh comes from your throat, a sound that triggers an intense feeling of success, satisfaction in Crosshair. His long arms wrap around you, one of his long legs slips between yours. Immediately you feel the pulse between your thighs, in the intimate heat of your womanhood. His tongue flicks playfully against yours again and again, chasing it with velvety strokes. Every touch of his tongue in your mouth makes your clit pulsate as if he were kissing you in a completely different place.

His long, elegant fingers undo your belt and pants, pull your belt out of the loops and put it to one side. Just the idea and anticipation of every touch makes your pulse race, your nerve endings vibrate and your panties get wet. You imagined it differently, you expected more fear, but you feel completely safe, Crosshair is gentle, considerate, something unfamiliar, unexpected, but very welcome. As his lips part from yours, he lets out a somewhat shaky breath. His muscles are tense, he holds back. You both know he wants more, but he's taking it a lot slower than his body wants right now. "Is everything all right?" you ask softly, your mind still foggy from his kisses. "Of course," Crosshair grumbles and kisses your neck. The touch makes your nipples harden and causes you to wriggle out of your pants automatically, almost of your own accord, and slip them off your body. Another shaky gasp from Crosshair. His fingertips glide over your shoulder, your stomach, your thigh and back up again. They barely touch your skin, just very gently, then they grab, your thigh, then past your thigh to your right bun. His grip is firm, but not hard.

"I've been waiting for what feels like an eternity for us to get closer," he says, lost in thought, you're not even sure if the words are really meant for you.

His hand leaves your bun and moves forward, over the fabric of your panties, gliding gently over them, drawing teasing circles. Your thighs open for him, your mouth slightly open, another sigh comes from your throat. His lips brush gently over your chin and when he looks at you again, he grins. "You seem pretty comfortable around me by now" Your cheeks are warm as you answer him with a grin, "You could say that" You feel his hard length against your thigh through the fabric of his blacks. He presses himself closer to you, kissing his way from your chin to your ear. Once there, he whispers to you, "Feeling good so far?" A shiver runs through your body, only a small hoarse sound comes out of your mouth. Then his face is over yours again, he smiles smugly, he knows exactly what his words have just triggered in you. The moment he kisses you again, his nimble fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, slowly moving further down towards your heated, wet center. He is gentle, teasing, gliding and caressing over your soft folds. You feel a pulse very clearly, Crosshair's gentle touch awakens in you the desire for more. You buck up your hips, the motion causing his fingers to slide further down, to your expectant wet opening, and a fingertip slides in ever so slightly.

"I can see," he says contentedly, in a smoky voice, "I've whetted your appetite for more" And he's right, you want more, so much more, more contact, to feel more of him. You tug on his blacks, try to take them off. He is only too happy to help. At last you are both completely undressed. Your bodies press against each other, naked skin against naked skin. You're both giving off so much heat, you've long since stopped feeling the coolness of the cave. Crosshair's fingers are all over your skin, gliding, caressing, groping, one pleasant shiver after another coursing through your body. Everything blurs in your perception, all you feel is the heat of your bodies, the pulse between your thighs, Crosshair's touch. As soon as he's on top of you, you cling to him, pulling him closer to you, not giving him a chance to wander. You are so unexpectedly hungry for him that even the Sniper is surprised when you reach down between you, grab his cock and guide it to your wet entrance. He pauses, however, the tip barely an inch sunk into your pussy. "Are you sure you want this?" You blink, your face heated, looking up into his face. Your legs hook around his thighs and press him closer to you, making him slowly sink into you.

Crosshair is well-hung, you can clearly feel him stretching you, sliding deeper into your pussy. But he's careful, even bracing himself a little against your leg clamps that push him deeper inside you. "Slow down, kitten, I don't want to hurt you" You realize he's right, it doesn't hurt yet, but his massive cock is clearly making itself felt in your wet heat. You loosen your grip and let out a soft, deep sigh. He looks at you scrutinizingly, then smiles and says, "You're doing very well, kitten" Slowly he sinks deeper, as far as he can go, then he pauses, leans his forehead against yours and has to collect himself. The tightness that surrounds him feels incredibly intense. You see him bite his lip before he slowly begins to move inside you. Your legs cling to him again, your hands move to his shoulder blades, your fingers cling to his shoulders. It feels like his whole body is the perfect fit for you. The stimulation is everywhere you need it as your bodies melt together. You feel every taut muscle in his body, hear his soft, raspy gasps. Your bodies move together in perfect unison, your head sinks back, a smile spreads across your face as Crosshair looks at you mesmerized, you close your eyes and take in the feeling of him filling you completely.

It's not invasive like you feared, not at all. It feels tender, just right, the way his body nestles against and into you. The pulse intensifies, your fingernails press into his shoulders automatically. Spurred on by this, Crosshair moves a little faster. A hoarse moan escapes your lips, louder than expected, followed by a quiet, surprised, "Oh fuck..." You weren't expecting this intensity, this feeling. Your hands automatically move to his ass and claw into it as you feel yourself slithering towards a climax. Crosshair lets out a small, surprised grunt as your nails dig into his buns, but then he lets out a satisfied growl and a grin twitches at the corners of his mouth as he intensifies his thrusts. You don't hold back at all, your moans and gasps, hoarse, expectant, about to explode. It's music to his ears, adding more fire to his own arousal. As your thighs twitch around his body, your pussy around his cock and you drop beneath him with a long, husky sigh, the knot in his abdomen loosens, the tension dissolving into a long, intense, slowly ebbing pulse as he cums inside you.

You laugh, quietly, grinning. You feel so good, so relieved, liberated, safe. He looks at you, one eyebrow raised. "Feeling good, I guess?" You giggle. "Good? No, great." Crosshair smirks, kisses your chin, your nose, your lips, and leans his forehead against yours with a sigh. "Mission accomplished," he murmurs softly.

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