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thehighladywrites · 6 months

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— “You were flirting with me?”

pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

summary: You leave Azriel mid-makeout to debrief with your girls

warnings: suggestiveness, the ic being nosey, miscommunication, rhys and cassian knowingly riling az up, the girls get drunk and interrogate reader, the boys get drunk and interrogate az,

amara’s note: this might be the funniest thing i’ve ever written. also sorry for my absence i’m posting more soon💗💗

You’ve had a massive crush on Azriel since the day you met him. He didn’t really notice you and was somewhat nice to you.

Really, you had no idea how you started crushing on him, I mean he paid you no special attention or anything. Maybe it was because he was quiet, handsome, tall, dark, mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He also cracked jokes and flashed grins that made your heart flutter. The Mother knows how much it grated your nerves whenever a male tried to hit or talk to you when you clearly had no desire to.

Azriel was the complete opposite and you started worrying that you were the one who grated on his nerves everytime you tried speaking to him.

“Hi Azriel, how are you doing?” you noticed him sitting at the dining table, collected yourself and asked him.

“Good,” he said staring straight into your soul before he realized his answer wasn’t really socially appropriate so asked you, “How are you?”

You just smiled awkwardly and nodded, “I’m fine, thanks.”

And that was how 90% of your conversations went. There was no further comments or extra questions and fuck if it wasn’t awkward. You really wanted to get to know him but you also knew how impossible it was since even the people he had been friends with for half a millennium often considered him a mystery.

Sensing the weird energy in the room, you just swiftly said goodbye, not bothering to stay to hear his goodbye.

He wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to do something, perhaps eat brunch at the restaurant you talked about to Cassian but you were moving before he had the chance. Azriel got extremely annoyed with himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t ask you out like a normal person.

With determination, he promised himself to try the next time.

—

The girls all knew about your very obvious crush on Azriel and encouraged you to approach him often. They were all mated and happy and you wish it was you, you that had a mate, you who got loved and kissed and hugged and fucked.

But you just had to be obsessed with a man that paid you no attention… Maybe that’s why you wanted him, you viewed him as a challenge, and you loved challenges. Despite wanting his attention and wanting to get to know him, you still had self-respect and didn’t act like a pathetic, desperate, love-sick puppy infront of him.

So you went from always greeting him and smiling at him, trying to initiate conversations to flat out ignoring him. I mean, he never talked to you first so maybe it was time to accept it and just admire him from afar.

—

Azriel began to sense a dullness in his days, a void he couldn't really pinpoint. He realized he hadn’t talked to you, or rather, you hadn't talked to him while he played it cool, trying not to make his beating heart obvious. He noticed the absence of your chatter, questions and lovely voice, realizing that his days grew more mundane and boring without someone asking about his shadows, what his plans were, where he got Truth-Teller.

Azriel observed during dinner that you didn't glance at him once; your attention was solely on the girls or his brothers. You chose to stand up, walk across the dining room and grab the bowl of potatoes beside him instead of asking him for it, and it really irked him. Was he not worthy of passing a simple bowl of fucking potatoes?

He wondered if he had done something to make you avoid talking to him. Despite not being the most talkative person, he paid very close attention to everything you said, even if it seemed unnoticed. Azriel loved your presence and he thought he made his interest in you very clear when he looked at you.

Cassian had said girls like eye contact, still everytime he stared into your soul, you only looked weirded out. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he wasn’t keeping eye contact long enough.

He had grown extremely fond of your talking and felt empty without it. Finding you alone in the kitchen while you prepared a quick breakfast, Azriel decided it was time to talk. The others had already headed to the training grounds as you had slept in. You were cooking your breakfast, not noticing Azriel.

“Hey.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as you slowly looked up at him. Was he really talking to you? But why?

“Yeah?”

He stayed quiet for a bit, just staring at you in that weird way he always did. Even though he wasn't sure if you liked him back and was afraid of rejection, he still wanted to talk to you.

“How have you been?”

You fight the urge to furrow your brows in confusion. Since when the hell did Azriel care? You were truly baffled and tried to act normal.

“Uh, I’ve been good, you?”

Azriel didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Usually, you'd spontaneously share every detail of your morning routine, even without him asking. He fucking loved to listen as you talked about your broken hairbrush, the struggle of choosing clothes, the snug fit of your leathers due to gained muscles, and the morning hassle with your hair, prompting you to wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual.

“I’m okay. Have you done anything else today? How is your hairbrush?”

A stupid question really, but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to see that familiar spark in your eyes as you talked about anything and everything. No way would he ever forgive himself if he ruined something between you.

Your face heated at the fact that he remembered such a minuscule detail about something you said weeks ago.

”Oh, the hairbrush? It broke so I got an enchanted one. Heard it's like a hair miracle, tried it, and it really worked. By the way, your hair looks good. Did you cut it lately?”

Azriel couldn't help but warm up at your rambling. His eyes widened at first, and then he threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound was familiar, yet it never failed to feel like the first time. It was a beautiful and joyful melody that always managed to make you melt on the inside.

"I really missed you," he admitted, feeling your heart pound in your chest, unable to meet his gaze.

"You did?" Azriel's soft smile warmed your heart, the one you'd nearly missed.

"I did. I enjoy being around you and hearing your voice," he confessed.

"Oh, I always thought you didn’t." You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief.

Stepping closer, Azriel's presence loomed over you, his hand gently lifting your chin.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m sorry that my silence ever gave you that impression. I thought I was making my interest clear, to be honest,” he murmured, sincerity gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Okay, I promise I won’t misunderstand again. But why did you think you made yourself clear?” you whispered, feeling a rush of energy as you locked eyes with him.

“Because I made a point of holding prolonged eye contact, thinking it was a clear signal of my interest,” he explained matter-of-factly.

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. “So, all those times you were staring at me, you were actually flirting?”

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, yes. I thought you knew.”

Suppressing a giggle, you bit your lip and glanced away, not wanting to offend him.

“Ah, not exactly crystal clear, but I understand now. Let’s go for a walk and chat some more,” you suggested, linking your arm through his.

"Sounds perfect. Now, tell me about those new leathers you got," he said, his playful demeanor easing the tension, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.

—

Over the next few months, the bond between you and Azriel deepened. He trusted you with secrets of his life that remained hidden from everyone else. These private conversations became the pillars of your connection, sweet moments for you only.

As the months went by, an unspoken desire for more lingered between you and Azriel. Yet, despite the magnetic pull, something kept you from going the final step.

You've had countless close moments where you almost kissed, where just a tip-toe closer would have sealed the deal. But it never happened. So close, yet so frustratingly far away.

—

Mor's question disrupted the laughter and gossiping of the girls' night, the clinking of wine glasses punctuating the anticipation in the air.

"Remind me again why you and Azriel aren’t a couple?”

Mor's curiosity hung palpably, shifting the mood from gossiping to an interrogation.

“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you replied, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts.

“We have a great connection, but there's this unspoken understanding between us. It’s like there's a boundary we're afraid to cross.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes observing you closely. “Unspoken understanding? Fancy fucking excuse”

Elain giggled and nodded in agreement.

You chuckled, “Maybe it is, but it’s like we're both tiptoeing around something, afraid to ruin what we have. I mean, do I want to be with him? Yeah, I do. But we might fuck something up and I think we have too good of a relationship to throw it all away.”

Nesta leaned back with a smirk, “Sounds like a case of unresolved sexual tension. Maybe the only cure would be to finally get a good dicking.”

You shot her a look, “You make it sound like a medical condition. Also that has got to be some plot from your smutty books.”

Feyre chimed in, “Maybe it is. Maybe it's time you took a bold step to see what happens. Who knows, it might get you laid.”

The group erupted into laughter, but underneath it, you couldn’t ignore the truth in their words. You liked him, there was no denying it. But did he like you as much?

—

“Is she dating anyone?” Rhysand’s casual question caught Azriel off guard as he browsed his big wine selections with Cassian while the girls where out of the house.

Azriel feigned ignorance. “Who?”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a knowing look. “Y/N. Is she dating anyone?”

Something about the question irked Azriel. “Why the hell do you care?”

Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. I might set her up with someone.”

Azriel's jaw clenched as he fought to mask his frustration. Rhysand's casual tone grated on his nerves, igniting a simmering jealousy he hadn't realized he harbored. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to respond evenly,

“She's a grown female, Rhys. She doesn't need you playing matchmaker for her.”

Cassian chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. “Easy, Az. No need to get defensive. I think little Y/N might want a lover of her own, no?”

Azriel's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I'm not being defensive. I just don't appreciate your implication. And no, she doesn’t need some lover.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk bordering on mischief. “Interesting. And why is that?”

Before Azriel could formulate a response, you had returned with the girls, your laughter echoing through the room, shifting the focus away from the questions. Azriel sighed, silently cursing Rhysand's annoying questions and the unresolved feelings stirring within him.

—

You turned off the tap and brought the glass of water to your mouth, much needed after the amounts of wine you and the girls had downed. It was honestly a miracle Mor had the energy to winnow you to the house of wind.

As the girls walked to the library for more drinking, you snuck into the kitchen for some water.

You put down the tall glass of water, swallowing the refreshing and cool drink before your body tingle.

Your stomach flipped, blood heating as your skin broke out in goosebumps.

His presence was undeniable.

Azriel was here.

Turning around to leave the sink, you saw him standing there behind the island, looking at you with a soft look that made your stomach flutter and cheeks heat.

"Hi," Azriel greeted softly as you approached him.

"Hi, Az." you replied, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of him.

"Did you have fun with the girls?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I did," you answered with a smile as you looked down.

Azriel's lips twitched, and he gently lifted your chin with his pointer and thumb. He looked down at your midnight blue dress and raised his brows

"You look absolutely breathtaking."

Your heart beat faster and faster and you were damn sure your friends upstairs could hear how hard it drummed against your chest.

You leaned into his touch, the move careful and intentional. Azriel’s thumb rubbed against your jaw, your eyes glistening in awe at his handsome self.

”Thank you. It’s nothing special, I just like the color.”

Azriel's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "It's not just the color," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you. You’re beautiful."

A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip nervously, unsure how to respond to such sincerity. But damn, he looked good, and the alcohol in your system made you feel bold enough to speak your mind.

"You look really good," you said, your voice a little breathless. "This shirt suits you."

Stepping closer, you let your hand rest on his sturdy chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension between you palpable. Slowly, your hand traveled down to the planes of his stomach, each movement filled with anticipation.

As you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you played with his belt, the air crackling with the electric energy of the moment. His reaction was immediate, his gaze flickering with desire as the tension between you reached its peak.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. The sudden proximity caught you off guard, making you gasp softly.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with desire. "Let's not do things we can't handle."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his proximity sent electric sparks coursing through you. “That sounds like a challenge, Azriel,” you taunted, your voice barely a whisper.

Azriel’s smirk widened, his gaze burning with intensity. “Consider it an invitation.”

You looked at each other, breathing shallowly. Azriel’s intense gaze softened gradually as his eyes traveled further down to your lips. He swallowed, pupils wide with lust.

"May I-"

"Yes."

It was a tender, sweet kiss that caught you off guard in the best way possible. You didn't expect him to be so gentle, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

His touch was tender yet reassuring. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You melted into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness. Your hands found their way to his neck, clinging to him as if you never wanted to let go.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around you lazily, one trailing up your calf and causing you to twitch in surprise. Pulling back, you were met with his clouded, lustful eyes. A mixture of concern and confusion cleared up his hazy gaze.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Here you were, in the kitchen, making out with Azriel—the very male you'd had a crush on for what felt like an eternity. Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine, just give me one second,” you managed to stammer out before turning on your heel and practically stumbling out of the kitchen.

With your heart racing and your mind in a whirlwind, you burst into the library where the girls were lounging, each with a glass of wine in hand. Feyre perked up at your arrival, offering a lazy smile.

“There you are, was wondering where you went,” she mused, clearly already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Without thought, you blurted out the bombshell news. “Guys, Azriel and I kissed.”

The revelation seemed to sober up the entire room, and suddenly, you were bombarded with questions and reactions from your friends.

“Oh my gods, finally,” Mor exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat

“Is he a good kisser? Was it rough or soft? How did he hold you?” Nesta fired off questions, her curiosity piqued.

”All of you owe me 10 cold coins each. I’m always right,” Feyre slumped back in her seat, sipping the wine as she nodded happily.

“I knew you were up to something while we were in here,” Amren chimed in with a knowing smirk.

You grinned widely as you shared all the details with the girls, who were just as excited as you were. They leaned in, eager to hear every bit of the story.

As the questions swirled around you, Elain’s confused expression brought the conversation to a halt.

“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be kissing right now?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

You froze, the weight of her words sinking in. “Well, yes, we were just... making out, and I had to come here. I panicked.”

In response, your friends practically shoved you back outside, Nesta taking the lead. “And don’t you dare come back until your legs are shaking and you have a big smile on your face,” she declared with a mischievous grin.

You took a deep breath, suppressing your smile as you made your way back to the kitchen. Azriel stood there, leaning against the kitchen island with his feet crossed and arms over his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

You softened at his words, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him down slightly, you gave him a loud kiss that ended with an audible "mwah."

"I really couldn't be more comfortable. I love you, Az. Like a whole lot," you confessed, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Azriel's eyes softened at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can put into words."

You felt a rush of warmth flood through you at his admission, your heart fluttering with happiness. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him again, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers down your spine.

Azriel grabbed your hips and slowly backed you into the kitchen island. You yelped when he picked you up and put you on the counter, deeping the kiss.

“Let me take you on a date. I want to do this properly,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You put your hands on his chest lovingly as you nod, smiling up at him. “I’d love that.”

—

extra scene where rhys and cassian visit azriel in the kitchen:

Azriel stood frozen as you left, his mind going into overdrive, worrying if he had done something wrong. Just as he was about to follow you, Rhys and Cassian popped their heads into the kitchen.

"Yo. Where did she go?" Cassian asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the pair, or rather their heads.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Go before she comes back," he urged, shooing them away with his hand.

Rhys leaned against the kitchen island, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's about damn time."

Cassian nodded in agreement. "Fuck yeah, took him long enough. But hey, better late than never."

Azriel frowned, feeling the weight of their words. "You guys make it sound like it was some kind of mission."

Rhys chuckled. "In a way, it was. And you finally completed it."

Azriel sighed, "Stop talking like that, you sound fucking ancient.”

Cassian smirked at him, arms over his chest as he said “Y’all kissed?”

Azriel's cheeks flushed slightly at Cassian's question, but he maintained his composure. "Yeah, we did."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And?"

Azriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "And it was... nice."

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. "Nice? Come on, tongue?”

"Yeah, tongue,” he said trying and failing to suppress a smile.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I knew it, you little freak. What else?”

Azriel's expression turned guarded. “Okay, that's all you dickheads need to know. Now, get the fuck out before she comes back.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up, a finger wagging in Azriel’s face. “You better not fuck in my kitchen, I swear to the Mother, I’ll make you both scrub every inch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and ushered them out, leaning against the kitchen island, waiting for you.

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bitternanami · 7 months

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something i think is really interesting about dungeon meshi is the cast's respective views on food as the story progresses. the way many adventurers get through the dungeon is to eat when they Must, but mostly rely on healing magic to keep going when they're tired or beaten down. death is something you can buy your way out of, here.

having these lower stakes when it comes to running yourself too hard has made a lot of people in this setting kind of devalue food and what it does for you.

im not all the way through the manga yet, but so far i really like how it goes about debunking that mindset.

long post under the cut, cw explicit discussion of disordered eating. textual depiction of unhealthy methods of dealing with it. please be cautious!

it seems like to most folks, food is either a decadent luxury, like when the governor offers mr tance a feast as a show of power and wealth, (although he is the only one who actually eats in that scene as he talks about his ambitions);

[id: the governor and mr. tance talk politics and hierarchies, while the governor eats from a bowl. mr. tance's meal is not visible behind a speech bubble.

"so you believe the sorceror is an elf?" he asks.

"i can't say with absolute certainty," mr. tance replies, "but the spells are not ones dwarves and humans typically use." /end id]

like the painted-royal feasts laios tries to partake in that never actually nourish him...

[id: laios, fresh out of the living painting feast, surprisedly holding his grumbling stomach /end id]

or, to the working class, it's pretty much exclusively fuel. i'm thinking about the scene where kabru's party, ostensibly intended to be our view into how adventuring Typically goes for most people, is shown preparing to go to the dungeon by like. walking up to someone and ordering 'a weeks' worth of rations.' purely functional.

[id: kabru enters a store, and the merchant says "welcome!"

kabru says "i need a week's worth of rations for six, and two days' worth of water."

"sure thing." the merchant then reaches behind him and grabs a large cube-shaped package, wrapped in nondescript cloth and tied in place. it thumps onto the counter in front of them both. /end id]

when kabru hands mickbell his food for the trip, he complains about how heavy it is on his back. it's a necessary liability.

we also see chilchuck, in an early chapter where there isn't much food to go around, grumbling about how he used to be better at not noticing when he was hungry. he's frustrated that he's more attuned to his bodily needs, now that he's starting to fill them with regularity.

[id: chilchuck, the only one awake, sits in his bedroll and glares at the timekeeping-candle burning down in front of him while he listens to his stomach growl. moving to find his canteen and fill himself with water instead, he thinks to himself, "my stomach has gotten weaker. i used to be able to go two days without food." /end id]

(like im not even gonna lie this is a big mood. the healing process is really really annoying)

even laios, early on, working out the logistics of going back for falin, considers his expenses and ultimately the thing he decides to save money on is their food supply. like, even the guy most invested in eating as an experience kind of just assumes he will Figure It Out. its what hes eating, not how hes eating it that matters to him at that point.

[id: marcille looks down at the ingredients they've gathered, the walking mushroom and the scorpion in an unappetizing heap on the ground, and asks laios "so how exactly do we eat them?"

he responds "let's just cook them, like normal." /end id]

but its here that senshi introduces the idea of food as art and as healing. its exciting and its fascinating for laios, getting to taste the creatures hes been reading about and fighting, but i dont think it would ever really help him feel full if not for this.

[id: three panels of laios tasting the scorpion hotpot, looking stunned, and then excitedly telling senshi "delicious!"

senshi matches his energy, asking "isn't it? isn't it?" /end id]

pictured: guy who had resigned himself to kind of just doing his best rediscovers the joy in something tasting really fucking good

what they did last time isnt going to work. falin is gone, and constantly anesthetizing their pain and healing through their weakness is no longer a realistic option for the party. in order to make it through they must all relearn how to eat well, one by one and as a group over and over again, because its either that or nothing.

one of my favorite depictions of this idea thus far is when marcille is seriously low on health and mana, and both of these problems are mitigated by taking care of herself, and trying to get iron and protein

[id: marcille, looking sickly, wakes to laios saying, "marcille, marcille, can you sit up? we've got something nice for you."

she watches senshi grill pieces of kelpie liver on a low fire, while laios ties a bib around her neck. /end id]

and drinking a bunch of dead water spirits. she gets the idea, she's supposed to get in nutrients and it'll help her feel better, but in aiming for the quick, inefficient fix, namely chugging that shit down like she heard it was good to Stay Hydrated and decided that would be the thing that fixes her,

[id: marcille throws back a cup of boiled undine-water, her face red. laios asks, "do you really need to drink it that fast?"

she gasps out "...the magical energy stored in nature spirits is actually quite hard to absorb. even if you drink a lot, the majority of it is excreted without being absorbed," and takes another drink. "that's why i need to drink as much as i can."

laios says weakly "you'll get water poisoning," but marcille only stops when senshi puts a hand on her shoulder and says,

"it's easier to absorb nutrients if ye digest them with food. that's a fundamental rule of nutrition."

marcille says, "senshi..." contemplative

and he holds out a bowl of tentuclus and a thumbs up. "let's get cooking!" /end id]

she doesn't immediately realize the answer is that she needs more than that. she's been working hard. she needs care, and she needs nourishment.

once she gets that, though, she makes her boiled water into a stew, and she works to make that stew as good as she can, and everyone can have some.

because in dungeon meshi, to feed yourself or allow yourself to be fed is treated as performing a kindness for yourself. food is what propels you, but there is also an art and a joy inherent to the process of making it; in the way you feel when you've had enough to eat.

[id: senshi watches as chilchuck and marcille eat and excitedly hash out plans.

"i've got a good feeling about this! maybe it'll work out!" chilchuck says

marcille responds, "well it's easier to feel optimistic on a full stomach!"

senshi smiles, proud. /end id]

^^^ i want to put this image on my wall

when you're working through disordered eating habits, you really do have to keep learning this shit. (in my experience, learning about cooking is one of the best ways to do so.)

i'll have to see if my thesis holds up as i continue, but i think one of the reasons the portrayal here resonates with me so hard is that ryoko kui puts most of her characters at eye level with me on this. they're all working at it, too. the text and i are both commiserating, and encouraging each other, 'have some more, you'll feel better.'

#its late -_- idk if this fullly gets across what i mean but ive been thinking about this for weeks #dungeon meshi #recovery #cooking tag #disordered eating cw #im on chp 31 atm but im like. squinting and steepling my fingers looking for this theme as i go now #meta

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flokali · 8 months

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Hi!! I am brainrotting and cannot get it out of my mind, so I thought to share. A very simple thought.

Accolyte Zhongli. Very willing to please et cetera. But biting him? Like come on, biting a Dragon? Is it ownership? Is it playful bite? You know, the sudden urge to bite someone (or is it just me?). So biting a very willing Zhongli.

Sobbing. This will haunt me for a while.

Slight NSF_W

Thinking so many thoughts... happy belated valentines day every1 ><

Warnings: NB! Reader, yandere!Zhongli, SAGAU, implied Dom!Reader/Sub!Zhongli, unhealthy relationship dynamics, biting, soft-violence (?), possessive behavior, jealousy, ask to tag!

Dragons in Liyue are known to be loyal, fierce, and elegant; the stories always describe them as powerful beasts who are to be respected, with sincere hearts and wisdom beyond a mere mortal’s understanding.

In a way, such behaviors did translate to your acolyte, Zhongli. He was one of your oldest followers, not just in age but time serving you, over six millenia he has existed and can proudly state he’s worshiped you for most of it. You would think that the years would have mellowed him out, polished up the edges of his devotion, soothe the tempest in his heart into a much milder dribble, and yet – you knew very few of your acolytes who could rival the passion he seemed to hold towards you.

The relationship between you and all of your followers was strange, at least to you — going from a normal person to being worshiped as a God was not an easy process, much less in a world as different from your own as Teyvat was to Earth — however none were perhaps as strange as the relationship between you and Zhongli.

He is always at your side, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. At first, his insistence on being your attendant had been met with heavy resistance from the others but his stubbornness greatly overpowered their annoyance; no matter what rotation you were in, Zhongli was always by your side.

You knew of his vessel, Morax, the large dragon that he’d used to fake his death, and you knew that “Zhongli” wasn’t his true form – you just hadn’t guessed some traits would have seeped into the other form or maybe it was simply part of his personality.

He was possessive and overprotective over you, it was like an internal struggle between submission and the need to monopolize you was constantly going on in his head, yet he refused to outwardly admit it.

“I am simply concerned for you, Your Grace.” He’d say whenever you’d bring up his overbearing nature, considering that he and the rest viewed you as an all-powerful being, you’d think he’d have more trust in your ability to protect yourself. And yet, whenever he’s allowed, he’ll always attempt to deter you from leaving his side. At some point you realized it was probably for his sake rather than your own, but by then you had grown endeared to the man and decided to allow it anyway.

Even as your most loyal follower who you spent most of your days with, Zhongli had his quirks and habits about him that simply baffled you – no matter how many days you’d spent with the former Archon, there were just things he’d do and say that’d leave you questioning all you knew about him prior.

All you really knew about him before was reduced to what had been revealed in game, from the Traveler’s perspective and the NPC’s who’d speak about him. Meeting him and interacting with him quickly let you know that his personality, at least when directed towards you, was quite different from what you had assumed from your previous observations.

An example of such discrepancies was his obsessive need to please you.

The traditional Liyue clothes you once complimented him on? Most of his wardrobe has changed to include such attires more frequently. The hair accessory you bought him once when you traveled to Fontaine? You don’t think you’ve seen him without it since. That one time you complimented him when he wore warmer tones? It seems his closet has been rid of any other color.

It was unsettling if not a bit cute, who wouldn’t be a little bit flattered to know their opinion held such weight to a man such as Morax; but it was only a matter of time before it all escalated

Somewhere, at some point, your relationship with Zhongli changed – morphing into something more complex than you would have expected. You would soon wonder if he was classified more so as a lover or some sort of concubinus than a mere helper, his role as an attendant seeming more like a guise so he could spend his time with you each day.

Fleeting touches now lasted longer, the feeling of his hot gaze on you burned stronger with every passing moment, it was a natural escalation; kisses now were no longer restrained to the hand, they now landed on your lips, your cheeks, your neck, wandering hands found their home in your waist and the small of your back.

When he told you he loved you, you knew not if he spoke as a devotee or a lover.

It was during a heated make out session that you found out his weakness to being marked and claimed, much to your surprise. He’d been quite insistent on not leaving a single mark on your person, not a hickey or bite, you guessed it must have been a preference but never asked about it either. You decided that, for the time being, you would avoid the topic until it naturally came up - and up did it come.

You had been on top of him, sitting on his lap and caressing his hair as your lips danced with one another’s, his golden eyes were shut tight in pleasure as he let you use his lips and body as you wished. His hands rested on your waist, tightly gripping at your robes and skin as he desperately clung onto your body. Soft whines left his lips periodically, his breathing was quick and you could feel his heart beating where your chests met.

You playfully decided to trail kisses across his face, at first he whined when he felt the loss of your lips on his but he soon fell quiet – other than a few moans and whimpers – as you left open mouthed kisses into his skin and down his neck.

It’s there that, in the heat of the moment, you decide to bite his neck, leaving a small hickey on his flushed skin. His reaction is immediate; his head falls backwards, his whole body heats up and you feel something stiffen below you, his face burns a bright red as a loud moan escapes his lips. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin to a point you are certain it’ll leave a mark, and his heartbeat quickens; pleasure basically radiates off of his body the minute your teeth nib at his neck.

You stop, teeth sunken into his skin and hand tangled in his hair, his reaction so lewd and surprising you become flustered and stop dead in your tracks.

Zhongli, however, only pulls you tighter into his body, using a hand to press your face deeper into his neck, as if urging you to use more force in your bite – timidly you give in and nibble into his flesh, further deepening the imprint of your teeth in his skin. His whole body feels hot to the touch, his mind feels hazy, your soft bites into his skin send shockwaves through him.

You had no idea what you were doing to him, did you? Or else you wouldn’t have been so careless when picking the spot, but it doesn’t matter, in this moment of intense pleasure, the former Archon decides to give into delusion and believe you knew the meaning behind biting a draconic being such as himself — and in the neck of all places as well.

Old traditions dictate that a bite mark, especially in the jugular or neck, was a sign of ownership. It was often that mates would mark each other in the neck with enough force to leave scars, sinking sharp teeth into one another with ironic tenderness. It showed trust and care for the other, both to be marked and leave a mark, as it required vulnerability and care from both parties. It was a deeply intimate act, one that would be reserved to life-long partners and mates, it was a gesture of possessiveness and devotion tinted with love.

If he were to be honest, Zhongli would have thought himself to be the one to mark you instead of the other way around, it’d been something he’d often fantasized at night before your arrival, and yet, as he felt your — significantly duller teeth — bite into him he could feel his admiration and love for you grow as he became yours; even if you may not have known.

He’d always imagined himself on top of you, your naked form beneath him, as he sunk his canines into your flesh until he tasted your holy blood. He’d imagined himself cradling your pleasure stricken body while you moaned his name, a sinful sound coming from a divine being. Instead, it is himself that lays within your grasp, panting in ecstasy as he holds himself back from coming completely undone and showing a depraved side of himself even he did not know of.

If he was honest, he almost wishes you’d draw blood, sink your teeth so deep into his skin it breaks layers of flesh and leaves a deep scar that could never heal – a sign of your favoritism and ownership, one that he could proudly say was unique to him. If only you weren’t so careful with him, so scared of hurting him; he means no offense, but your current form is significantly weaker than his and he’s survived wars most have not heard of; even if you wanted to sink your nails into his skin and carve your name into his body, he thinks his strength and shear devotion to you alone would prove the pain to be nonexistent.

A gasp of your name leaves his parted lips, it’s erotic - the way his pink lips let a symphony of pleasured sounds - a wave of hormones rushing through his body, sending his brain into overdrive.

You look up at him, not having expected such a lewd reaction, but the sight of his half-lidded eyes as they burn into your own sends a hot-buzz down your spine. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bloodied as he bites them, his bare chest is heaving up and down; the expression on his face is orgasmic. His loose hair sticks to his forehead as sweat runs down his temples, clearly your gesture had taken quite an effect on him.

You slowly remove your lips from their spot, about to question his reaction - wondering if you’d perhaps crossed a line, but he stops you with a crooked smile and warm hands against the back of your head.

“It is okay, Your Grace,” he whispers, tongue darting to wet his drying lips, he guides your head back into his neck, “bite me all you want, my neck is yours for the taking.”

You giggle a bit at his eagerness, feeling his hard-on press against your ass. You playfully adjust yourself in his lap, softly nipping at his neck before biting down in a new spot.

“Ha-ah,” he moans once more, you feel him startle beneath you, “don’t be afraid to draw out blood, either… in fact, please, feel free to do so.”

He can only hope you take on the challenge, eager to flaunt your lovely bites to Neuvillette and any poor soul that even so much as thinks of questioning his position in your life.

#๋࣭. ancient scrolls #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #male yandere #yandere zhongli #yandere sagau #yandere sagau zhongli #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #sagau #yandere morax #yandere rex lapis #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin zhongli x reader

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sgt-tombstone · 28 days

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civilian au where Ghost is a drummer who regularly plays with his band at a small club; it’s dark and small and loud and he loves it. Being on drums lets him stay out of the spotlight while still working as a team, acting as the beating heart of the band. He occasionally has solos, but he’s perfectly happy as the underlying pulse. He keeps his signature mask on during performances, adding to his mystery and, unbeknownst to him, his allure.

Johnny works as a bartender and drink runner at the bar at the back of the club, affording him a perfect view of the stage and, coincidentally, the hot drummer that plays every other weekend. He stays too busy to really gawk, but he spares every glance he can, often catching the drummer’s eye as he weaves through the room with a drink tray held high or a shaker in his hands. His fellow bartender, Gaz, makes fun of him ceaselessly, but he couldn’t care less.

The club has a lot of regulars, to the point where Johnny knows a lot of orders by heart, knows what “the regular” means to a lot of patrons, which is how he instantly clocks the newcomer. He’s tall and broad and blond, with a deeply scarred face and dark brown eyes that are almost hard to see in the dark room. Johnny’s favorite band isn’t playing that night, so he has some attention to spare for the stranger, who seems to zero in on him immediately. Normally, it’d be creepy, but he’s respectful and polite and incredibly attractive, so Johnny plays into it, throwing out a flirty wink with every drink order.

And so it goes; Johnny eyes Ghost from afar and flirts with the stranger—Simon, he learns—whenever he drops by. He never notices the pattern, that Simon never attends the shows that Ghost plays, and a part of him feels guilty for his split attractions, but he never sees either of them ever actually going anywhere, so there’s no harm, right?

And then he watches Ghost step off the stage at the end of one of his performances and make a bee-line for the bar, evidently parched after spending several hours under the hot lights. It’s something he’s never done before; normally, the lead singer or bassist orders drinks for the whole band after their sets. He watches in anticipation as Ghost approaches, only for his jaw to drop and eyes to widen as Ghost pulls off his mask to reveal… Simon. It’s his worlds colliding and he feels like he’s seeing double, but his internal panic lasts only a second before Simon is laughing, obviously deeply enjoying Johnny’s floundering, and then Johnny starts laughing too, because what else can he do?

A lot, as it turns out, because he asks Simon out that night, and they spend the rest of the weekend wandering the city and wrapped in each other’s beds. After that, Ghost’s shows are still Johnny’s favorite, but for a completely different reason. Simon still comes to watch whenever Johnny’s working and he’s not playing, and Johnny’s boss, Price, can never really get too mad when Johnny pays for attention to Simon than the rest of their patrons, especially when Ghost proposes on stage after one of his performances a year later

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #kyle gaz garrick #john price #tombstone's epitaphs #tombstone's ficlets

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leth-writes · 1 month

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yandere batfam x reader who's scared of them

BRUCE

If you don’t know he’s batman, he’s absolutely confused. He doesn’t really understand how you could be terrified of his civilian identity, who is notably soft and ditzy. It’s hard for you to explain how scary it is, looking at his smiling face in the middle of a gala and feeling this ice running down your spine, the deepest, basest part of you just screaming at you that there’s something wrong with him. It’s the way his emotions don’t reach his eyes, those cold, calculating eyes… It feels to you that he’s, at any given time, calculating how likely he is to get away with you murder.

That isn’t what he’s thinking. He’s thinking about how angry he is that everyone’s not treating you with the respect you deserve; he’s seen more consideration given to a coatrack! He’s contemplating yelling at your parent(s) to get them to realize how uncomfortable you are. That paternal sense just jumps right out and he’s wishing violence on anyone who would dare to so much as breathe at you wrong. You can see the promise of violence brewing on his face, you just mistake who it’s targeted at. He promises he would never hurt you.

Being frightened of batman is a lot more understandable, he is quite creepy. He tends to blend in with the shadows, and having a vigilante running around beating people senseless can be pretty terrifying. If he catches you being robbed, for example, Dick’s going to have to pull him off of whoever hurt you before he sends them into a coma. Seeing all that blood flying is definitely pretty scary.

However, Batman also serves as a protector for the city, especially children, and he does view you as a child, no matter your age. You’re his child, and he’d never want to scare you, so he exaggerates his movements and puts a bit of noise in his step so he’s less likely to scare you

He also gets Damian to approach you; while Damian may not be the typical child, he’s more than capable of acting young and vulnerable and that brings down your guard, allowing Bruce to ingratiate himself with you. Damian’s just excited to be close to you, he doesn’t even care you’re babying him and giving him stickers. He wears them with pride and shows every one to Alfred and his various animals.

DICK

Everyone is so confused as to how you could find Dick, smiley, jokey Dick, so scary. He’s so kind and gentle, perfect with children… maybe it’s the way you can see right through that facade into the intelligent seething rage boiling away within him. People often forget that Dick, as a young child, was more than willing to commit murder. He’s grown a lot since then, but sometimes that rage peaks through, terrifying you. You can also tell the bruises aren’t from sex or gymnastics like he says when the paparazzi ask, but from fights. You haven’t heard anything about the people he got into a fight in, which leads you to believe they never got up again. You’re wrong, but you can definitely feel the violence pulsing just underneath his skin. Every vigilante has it, you’re just able to sense it.

As Nightwing, he’s used to people asking him for selfies or yelling at him to do a backflip. He isn’t used to people trembling, terrified, in a corner as he approaches. You seem to view him as a dangerous vigilante, an extension of the Bat, first and foremost. Dick has to work hard to get you to trust him; he purposefully messes up some of his fights just so you think he isn’t as dangerous as he is, and he doesn’t let you in on the fact that the escrima have electricity. It puts you at ease if you think he would have a hard time taking you down. He relies on that goofy aspect of himself, pulling it up more than he normally would, almost tapping into that little circus performer who he buried deep down so many years ago.

JASON

Yeah, he gets it. His reputation, while useful, does preceed him. He’s heard the rumours; that he’s a zombie, a vampire, a ghoul, some creature back from the dead to kickstart some apocalyptic event. He usually finds it laughable, but seeing how terrifying you are does hit him hard.

He’s done so much to bury who he used to be, but for you, he taps into that side of him. He reads Jane Austen in public, volunteers at homeless shelters that he normally only donates to, anything to give himself a softer image. He even lets his hair keep its natural curls, letting them grow out slightly, to give him a softer silhouette. He also starts dressing more like Bruce; soft sweaters tucked into his pants, accentuating the pretty streak of white in his hair.

He’s also more than aware of how scary his scars can be, and tries his best to distract you away from them; for a little while, you rarely see him fully face-on, he turns his head just slightly so you can’t see them as clearly.

The Red Hood is terrifying. He’s aware, he knows, he’s dealing with it for you. He stops with the killing almost entirely and spends more time just patrolling your neighborhood, trying to get you used to the positives his presence is associated with. He lets Clark finally publish those positive stories about him saving a kitten or something, all to rehabilitate his image. He doesn’t care that his reputation is taking a hit, he only cares about you not being terrified of him.

TIM

???

Tim isn’t used to people being scared of him. Plenty of people are intimidated by his ruthless businessman act, but he never uses that around you. He tends to play up that scrawny, dorky nerd side of him; most view him like a little vulnerable puppy, not a threat!

You can probably sense that analytical presence behind his eyes. Tim, while technically being the most hands-off, is also the one who does the most meddling behind the scenes. He’s working to get rid of those shitty friends, blackmailing them away from you, and making sure to surround you with people he trusts, particularly Cass, Kon, and Steph. They talk him up, but more importantly, he knows they’ll keep you safe if he can’t.

You can probably tell your new friends are hiding something, and you sense that Tim is at the center. You’re not entirely wrong. Like Jason, he dresses in soft, cozy clothing and spends hours practicing his soft, gentle smiles, all in the hopes of you thinking him too weak and exhausted to be a threat.

He’s had criminals dislike him as Red Robin, but most civilians either appreciate him or ignore him. Most opinions are actually quite lukewarm, as while he does play a role in policing crime, he works more in the background solving cases and using his computer and photography skills. He makes sure to be seen being soft to children and animals more, maybe even volunteers in suit at an animal shelter, all in the hopes you’ll see that caring heart shining through.

CASS

Cass is so soft in public no one could ever be scared of that side of her unless they’ve already been kidnapped, in which case she slowly wears them down by having her family talk her up and by being the one to bring in gifts and food, creating a strong association between her and those good feelings of stress relief. Works like a charm, especially because you learn to read her; then, you learn to read the softness in her smile and her posture, showing that kind heart.

in stark contrast, plenty of people are scared of Black Bat, including civilians. Her normal silent presence and lack of facial expression can come across quite creepy. There’s no way around that, so she only introduces you to her secret identity after you’ve been kidnapped.

#yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere Cassandra Cain #yandere Dick Grayson #yandere Bruce Wayne #yandere Jason Todd #yandere Tim Drake #lethwrites

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beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year

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I ❤️ DILFS / GOOD GIRL (18+)

pairing: student!brother's bff!seokmin x student!good girl!reader

genre: college au, brother's best friend au, smut (MDNI), bit of crack, a small bit of angst but not nearly as much as most of my fics

description: when you head out for college, you incidentally end up at the one your bother's best friend has disappeared to 2 years prior. now, seokmin has promised your brother, vernon, to teach you and take care of you while you're away from home. unfortunately, it seems vernon should have been a bit more specific about what exactly seokmin was supposed to be teaching you.

warnings: vernon is ur overprotective brother, seokmin is not a dilf unfortunately, dirty talk, masturbation (male and female), fingering, slight restraint?, praise (f. receiving), pet names (good girl is so overused), teaching, innocence kink, corruption kink, oral (m. receiving), tiddie play, alcohol consumption, a bit of pining, shame on the readers part, she feels a bit like a slut for a moment, kinda brief mention of miscarriage? for like a metaphor lol, jeonghan is hot in this, giselle is ur bff and i almost gave up my mission and made this whole fic ab her shes so hot, ok i think thats it

quotes my creative director (@joshibambi): "just admit u wanna bang son", "o is for orgasm", "the urge to be the younger sibling for once"

wordcount: 15.9k

a/n: the way this fic took me years to write. i hav been busy :( thank u 2 every1 who liked girl code uve made my whole year :D hope u like this one 2!!

You preferred to remember Seokmin for how he was.

How he was small and young, how he had a swanky bowlcut and how he looked in his school uniform. How he and your big brother, Vernon, had bonded and watched movies together in your living room, and the countless dinners he’d stayed over for, always so respectful to your parents and you. He wasn’t your best friend, he was Vernon’s, and yet he made it so easy to feel comfortable, so easy to feel like you were the one he came over for.

You crushed on him back then, wrote countless diary entries about him and his stupid, beautiful smile. But it had been so forbidden, you remembered feeling that, because of how Vernon had groaned at you to leave every time you peaked your head through the living room door, masking your insistent eyes on Seokmin with simply wanting to “watch a grown up movie”. Sighing, you’d turn back to your princess pink room, and the boundary - the Vernon shaped boundary - that stood between you and Seokmin grew farther.

It had almost been a relief when Seokmin left for college. That was the most terrible thing, the relief you felt while your brother was grieving the sudden separation with his best friend. But your heart simply couldn’t help but let out a long sigh - years of yearning for him when he was so close by. You felt that cool wash of repose when that border between you and him had disappeared from your view. Years of watching it, wondering whether to pad closer or turn away from it, became a distant memory. For two years you were almost a normal girl and a good baby sister.

Then it was your turn to head off for college. The nearest, big college to you accepted your application and you still distinctly remember dinner with your parents and your brother, how’d they’d cheered and clinked glasses and looked at you adoringly, because you were growing up right before their eyes. Then under the faint light of the restaurant chandelier, your mom had said something that immediately sent you hurdling back to that old, distant boundary: “Maybe you’ll see Seokmin there!”

How had you forgotten? You supposed in that time you’d let yourself be more taken with the relief. It was the thought that he would be gone that had distracted you from exactly where to. And there you were with all your moving plans and your packed backs, and your glass raised and frozen in the air and your eyes wide.

Then came the reasoning: surely, you could avoid him? It was a big college, there were plenty of people. There was no logical reason you’d really have to see him. Except for Vernon, of course. Ever so oblivious, your brother had called up Seokmin to tell him the good news, and to tell him to take care of you and protect you. And Seokmin was so sweet, of course, he’d take care of his best friend’s baby sister.

And there you were at college. All grown up.

In your defense, you had avoided him skillfully. You’d turned down his request to help you with unpacking, turned down his tour of the school (that you’d actually desperately needed - why is room 240 not with all the other 40’s?!), and most of all, you’d turned down every single message inviting you to a party.

I guess to him that was a perk; partying with the older kids. He knew you after all. He knew that you were a quiet girl and you stayed within your neatly laid brick walls, and he knew you were shy, and he knew you needed help letting loose. He knew you were a good girl.

Which is why it wasn’t surprising at all that you turned down his offers - wanting to stay focused on school. At least, that’s what you told him. Truth was even being in his vicinity had put you much closer to that boundary you’d never dared cross. You were afraid even just seeing him would send you hurdling back, like a leaf in the wind. So you didn’t go.

For a while, at least.

“This is, like, a once in a lifetime opportunity!” Giselle whined and you shook your head adamantly. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, maybe not for you, but for me!” she argued. “I can’t believe you’re consistently being invited to parties with hot, sexy men, and you’re turning it down because of one guy!”

You were currently sitting in the library with your roommate, Giselle, and you’d made the unfortunate mistake of telling her about your predicament after receiving yet another invitation to a party tomorrow. Giselle was throwing a temper tantrum because she had never ever had anything as ridiculous.

You liked Giselle a lot. She was very different from you - she was hot. You weren’t - you were cute. Giselle held boys on leashes and made them do homework for her. She liked partying and sexy, black dresses. You were a fucking nerd, and cute was the highest compliment you had ever received for your looks. Even though you were different, Giselle had immediately taken a liking to you. You had initially feared she would think you were lame, but she was so nice - except for right now.

“Come on, Y/n, there are, like, no cute guys in our year!” she said pleadingly, clasping her hands together and pouting, but you shook your head.

“You don’t understand, Giselle,” you murmured solemnly, trying to regain your focus on the science textbook in front of you.

“I understand perfectly well,” she said and you eyed her suspiciously. “I understand that you’re a bitch!”

“Alright, that’s unnecessary,” you said, closing your book. You pinched the bridge of your nose, when she went on. “No, honestly, Y/n. You’re a virgin, right?”

You snapped your head towards her in shock. Your eyes darted around frantically, before you leaned over the table to whisper to her: “How do you know that?”

“Don’t embarrass yourself, honey,” she grinned, holding back laughter and you rolled your eyes, sighing. “And what about it, Giselle?”

“How are you ever gonna get yourself out there if you’re constantly caught up on this guy and trying to keep away your feelings for him? You’ll stay a virgin forever, girl. You need to look him in the eyes and realize you’re above that childish crush!”

You stayed quiet, slumped in on yourself with your book in your lap. Why was she making sense?

You’d never thought about it that way. That your infatuation with your brother’s best friend was somehow holding you back from exploring and evolving as a woman. That maybe having him in the back of your mind every time you’d shyly made out with guys in high school, had been the thing that stopped you in your tracks.

“I can see it on your face, you know I’m right,” Giselle smiled smugly from behind the screen of her laptop. “Unless you’re asexual. In that case, fierce, but if you’re not, like, get out there, queen. Sometimes you need to realize that you have to leave one dick for another dick because the other dick is so good.”

You furrowed your brows. “Is.. Is this still about me?”

“No,” Giselle shook her head.

“Okay, yeah, ‘cause- ‘cause that didn’t..”

“Yeah, I know. I was more so, uh, angling-”

“Right-”

“Angling the story to- to my current situation.”

“I get it, yep.”

There was a moment of silence. You pursed your lips and looked at the message on your phone. Then you started typing.

“Are you telling him you’re coming with your super sexy, hot friend?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N, I LOVE YOU.” _____________________________

Regret was a nasty, old demon on your back and it had twisted and tugged at your guts, while you let Giselle get you party-ready. You’d sat on her bed, in her dress, and having her put her makeup on you, you’d sulked and tried to shrug off your back.

“You look so hot when you actually try,” she’d giggled, using a fluffy brush to spread the bake underneath your eyes.

“Thanks,” you’d mumbled, and she’d paused her movements, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked, sitting back on her knees. You had sighed, reaching a hand up to run it through your hair, but pausing midway when you realized you would ruin the styling Giselle had worked so hard on. You lowered your hand again.

“I’m not sure about this,” you’d murmured and she frowned genuinely. “Y/n, I meant what I said. I know I talk a lot about boys and stuff, but you really shouldn’t let yourself be held back by him!”

Before you could speak again, Giselle had tugged you off the floor to stand in front of her mirror.

“Look at you,” she’d cooed, clapping your shoulders. “You look so pretty!”

You’d smiled a little shyly, looking at your form in the mirror abashedly. You were pretty. Not cute, not nerdy; pretty. Curves hugged tight by a sleek, black dress from Giselle’s closet, this was a version of you that could actually see having sex - seducing men, gaining from her looks.

“I guess you’re right,” you’d said sheepishly, and Giselle had smiled sincerely and you’d let her take you to the party down the streets in a nearby frat house, and you’d almost not wavered when you stood right in front of it, music blasting out of every crevice.

But then you were inside and he was right there. For the first time in two years, he was there, and he was so hot. He was wearing a white tee and a fucking silver chain, and, God, when did he start working out, because his arms were so big and so toned. And his hair was fluffy and dark brown, and his face was slim, and the tops of his cheekbones were shining under the kitchen lamp, where he was talking to some other guy, arm flexed, as he leaned against it on the counter.

If there was one thing about Seokmin that had stayed the same it was that smile. He wore it now, laughing, as he talked to some blonde guy about something, and you wanted to scream because, there it was. The boundary, the ledge, the line, whatever, it was right before you again, right there with him. And all the feelings that came with it, your heart, wet and red in your throat, a brew of anxiety in your stomach.

Without sparing even a second, you’d clasped onto Giselle’s wrist, tugging her into a herd of anonymous people, and just walking. Walking, walking, pulling her along (she countered only with a “hey!”) only for you to hit a wall or something, just as long as you were far, far away from him.

“What the hell?” she said, when you finally stopped walking because you’d entered the living room, which was apparently more exclusive, as only a few people populated it, including a couple that was making out on the far end of the couch.

“He was there,” you gasped dramatically, as if you’d seen a ghost. “I-I can’t do this, Giselle.”

“Relax, babe, it’ll be fine. You’re away from him now, aren’t you?” Although she was trying to be supportive, you could tell she was growing a little tired of your theatrics. You couldn’t care less though, you were panting, and peering over her shoulder to see if he was somehow coming towards; and, God forbid, smile at you with that angel grin.

Giselle followed your gaze and sighed, brows furrowing. “How about I get us some drinks? Then you can let loose a little.”

You nodded absently, following her lead when she pulled you to sit down on the couch. You clambered to the couch rest, when she walked away, swaying her hips to the music.

You might’ve looked different, but you were still you. The entire scene had you uncomfortable, and you were still the shy, unconfident and nerdy girl. You cursed yourself for letting Giselle’s reassurances fool you - you would never be this type of person, and you would surely never get over Seokmin. She’d been wrong about everything.

“You okay, darling?”

You jumped at the voice, eyes darting up to see who it was.

You didn’t know him. He was handsome, though, but you’re not even sure you’d call it that. He was pretty, and he had long, black hair and big eyes and he was giving you this teasing smile, that was doing nothing to ease your nerves.

“I’m good,” you squeaked, gaze moving to a nearby pair of shoes in the corner of the room. You heard him chuckle, before he dropped into a squat before you. One lean hand came up to your knee, giving it a squeeze. “You just look so nervous, pretty,” he sat down an anonymous cup of liquor. “I don’t think I know you. Can you tell me your name?”

The hand on your knee burned into you, thumb brushing back and forth over the skin and he was looking at you so intently, it had you sputtering. “Uhm, uh, Y/n.”

His thumb froze. You looked over at him curiously to find this dumbfounded expression on his face, devious grin spreading on his pretty features. He chuckled and cleared his throat, face dropping down before he moved it back to look at you again.

“You’re the girl Seokmin’s always inviting over here?”

You nodded shyly and he smiled at you. “I’m Jeonghan.”

“Hi.”

A pause. Jeonghan squeezed your thigh, watching in delight at the way you screwed your eyes shut.

“You know, I just didn’t expect you to look like this,” he said finally and, sensing your confusion, he teasingly added: “The girl who’s always turning down parties to study.”

You blush deepened, cheeks furiously rosy, as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap. “I borrowed my friend's clothes,” you breathed, pursing your lips. “Ah!” Jeonghan gently patted the top of your thigh, nodding along exaggeratedly, “You borrowed your friend’s clothes! I see!”

He studied you while you giggled at his antics, still refusing to look him in the eye, really. He was almost suffocating, his hand on your thigh and his eyes boring into your face, and his cologne in a constant stream in and out of your nostrils. But suffocation, you decided, was almost better than being around Seokmin and having him parade his kind heart and his thick arms and his sweet smile, and just how off-limits he was.

Ripping you from your thoughts, Jeonghan stood up, placing both hands on the tops of your thighs and bending down to your face, so his nose was buried in your cheek.

“Look at me, darling,” he whispered, then pulled his face away from yours, just enough so you could gaze into his brown eyes. His hands were much higher now, squeezing hard at the plush of your thighs, dangerously close to your center and only separated by the thin fabric of Giselle’s dress.

“There she is,” Jeonghan smiled, voice a whisper. His lashes came over his eyes, when they flitted down to your lips. “Don’t you wanna come with me upstairs, and I can make you feel really, really goo-”

“JEONGHAN! GET OFF OF HER, THAT IS MY BEST FRIEND’S BABY SISTER!”

There’s a voice you know.

From across the room, Seokmin had burst through the mass of people, now power-posing with an extended finger in the direction of where Jeonghan was tilting over you, rubbing your thighs, as you sat innocently before him.

Jeonghan stood up, taking all of his heat and his suffocation and cologne with him, groaning and throwing his head back. “Seokmin!” he whined and he was suddenly no longer so suave and seductive.

“No, I won’t hear it, Jeonghan,” Seokmin said and, as much as you knew Seokmin to be sweet and tender and lovely, there was this crystal-clear anger in his voice. He walked over, one large hand pushing at Jeonghan. “Go get any other girl and sleep with her, just not her. Get your sorry ass out of here.”

Apparently Jeonghan sensed the same thing you did - a rare anger in Seokmin - because he didn’t put up much of a fight at all, only smiled at you apologetically (and then, when he was behind Seokmin, gave you a small, devious wink - he just couldn’t help himself).

You couldn’t focus much on Jeonghan at all though. Because Seokmin was standing in front of you, all muscle and huge fucking thighs by your head, and when you dared to tilt your gaze up to him, you saw how all that anger simply melted away.

“Hey,” he breathed, smiling softly.

“Hey.”

Then his eyes darkened, if only for a moment, as they traveled over your figure, gift-wrapped in that tight, black dress. His jaw clenched and he looked around for a moment. When he looked at you once more, he was giving you that smile - the one you’d fallen in love with - and the chocolate in his eyes was melting.

“Come on,” he ushered gently, one hand carefully guiding you off the couch. “Let’s go to my room where there aren’t any scary, evil, mean men.”

Despite being so on edge, so jittery, as you followed him up some distant staircase, you couldn’t help but laugh at those words. He was talking exactly like he had when you were kids. That was how you preferred to remember him; all small and young and with a swanky bowl cut, and he’s the exact same way with you, hand warm in yours, as he guides you through the house.

“Why’re you laughing?” he smiled, and you suppressed your own, trying not to dwell too much on how fast your heart was beating. “It’s just like before,” you quipped and Seokmin’s hand squeezed yours in understanding.

He lumbered down the hallway and at its very end, preceded by rows of white oak doors, he opened his own with a twist and a turn of the brass-blend knob. When he closed it, the party became muffled around you, as if his room was filled with water, and now the rest of the world was a garbled mess, and you were drowning.

His room was clean. You supposed Seokmin had never been the messy type - not even when infected by the influence of Vernon. He had a half-open closet, where you spotted folded clothes, and a circle rug and purple and green lava-lamp plugged in on his nightstand.

Seokmin apparently did not think it was clean enough, because he swooped down gallantly to grab a tossed sweater, smiling at you sheepishly when he held in between his fingers. You stared at him.

You felt like a kid again. Felt like just a young girl, creeping through the crack in the living room door, and looking at his silhouette, outlined by some grotesque horror movie playing on the TV. His sharp nose, when he turned to Vernon and laughed, his hair, all poofed and tousled and scruffy, and his smile.

And you’d let yourself fall into this trap, maybe to some extent you’d even wanted it. Because now he was right in front of you, and so was that damned barrier, right by your outstretched fingertips, and you could almost envision yourself climbing over it - climbing into his lap and-

“I didn’t think you’d ever come,” Seokmin said gently, a permanent, small smile frozen on his lips. You coughed, unready. “Uh, yeah, my friend- my friend thought I should try and.. You know, get myself out there.”

Seokmin studied you, bemused and fond, fiddling with the baby blue sweater in his hands. You were looking back cautiously, as if assessing a threat, but the threat was the sweetest, kindest boy in the whole wide world.

“Yeah, well,” he cleared his throat suddenly, ripping his gaze from you to fold the sweater onto his desk chair. “I’m sorry about Jeonghan, he’s.. You shouldn’t, uh..” Now neatly folded, you saw him rubbing the sweater between his fingers. “You should stay away from him.”

“Why?” you asked, and it was genuine enough that Seokmin let out a sigh.

“You’re too much of a good girl to be with him. He’s no good.”

A whimper clawed its way up your throat, bubbled from the depths of your belly, but you tamed it and settled on a light hum. You felt your underwear becoming a little sticky, and you wanted to die, because God, this was your brother’s best friend. They still facetimed every Tuesday and still played Fortnite together over Discord every Saturday.

“College going good?” Seokmin asked, retreating from the sweater to sit down on his bed. He looked up at you brightly and patted the spot next to him. It felt like another trap, where the folds in the blanket curved down under his weight, and would eventually lead you into him. You sat down hesitantly.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, folding your hands and in your lap and tensing your shoulders. Seokmin, fully relaxed and slumped, noted your posture and slid his hand over the exposed skin of your back. “Hey,” he whispered, so intimate it hurt your heart, “hey, hey, relax, Y/n. It’s just me.”

His eyes were soft and full of concern when he spoke quietly again, his voice almost a backdrop to the muffled sounds of dancing college students: “You know, Vernon was really concerned about how you would do away from home.”

“I’m not doing bad!” you said quickly, dismissing it immediately. Seokmin stared at you. “I just- this isn’t really my scene.”

His hand felt searing hot on your back, where it slid up and down, almost coaxing you further into him. He hummed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

Then: “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to come. Just figured you might want that street cred of being friends with the upperclassmen.”

You snorted and, cheeks rosy as ever, started giggling, eyes still cemented to the floor. Your hair was falling gently over your face, wisps of baby hair tickling your forehead.

“It’s okay,” you sighed away the laughter, “You were just trying to get me out of my shell. I appreciate it.”

Seokmin smiled at that. His hand dropped from your back and you both stared into the expanse of his room. A small window to let in the rain, the moonlight separated by the grid, and the curtain blowing in a solemn breeze. You and Seokmin sat, both very small suddenly, like kids, on the edge of the bed and became speckled in starlight, in diamond-dust.

Then Seokmin was doing it. He was letting you be comfortable, letting you slip into a dazed joy, intoxicated from his presence. He was asking about your teachers, exams, friends, experiences, and you were both laughing together, and once again you were forgetting that Seokmin was your brother’s best friend, and he was not with you for you, but he was simply talking to you out of courtesy to your brother. He let you forget.

“You going home for the break?” he asked then, room quieted down from all the laughter. The fall break, starting tomorrow, you remembered. You’d thought about going home, but had opted to text your parents that you were staying, wanting honestly to stay in your dorm room and work on assignments and organization and just lull in bed, instead of being taken up, down and everywhere in your hometown. You shook your head.

“Really? Me neither,” he said, brows raised. “Won’t you get lonely?”

You giggled shyly. “Maybe a little.”

“We could hang out,” he breathed, and at that you tasted the boundary between you, felt it firm under your fingertips, because you couldn’t discern whether he was protecting his friend’s baby sister or if he actually liked talking to you, and your heart beat and yearned and hoped for the latter.

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded, melting when you saw his smile reach his eyes.

“Didn’t you always like, uh, Mario Kart? You always wanted to play with me and Vern,” Seokmin said, but he was looking distantly into the window. You almost wanted to cry because he remembered you, remembered things that you liked. “I got it on my Playstation, we can play tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” you said.

Then Seokmin was loaning you his hoodie, and, bathed in his warm, tender smell, he followed you home under the moon, glaring at Jeonghan on his way out.

“Keep the hoodie,” he’d said, smiling sheepishly when you stood in front of your dorm door. “It’s cute.”

He patted your head and left, thankfully before he could see how red your face was, and how you were absolutely about to blow up from unfiltered joy. You shuffled into your dorm room and tried to soothe the basking butterflies in your stomach and your burning heart.

Was he standing right across from you on that line, waiting to cross? _____________________________

Giselle woke up just early enough to catch you switching between different button-up dresses, throwing one on, looking in the mirror, and deciding to try another. She was groggy and tired and somewhat hungover, and needed to catch a train, so she could get back home.

“What are you doing?” she cried, rubbing her eyes. You scurried back and forth trying on another dress, considering white tights, then white socks, then adjusting the tone and volume of your blush.

“I’m-” you gasped in between your hard labor, “I’m seeing a boy!”

This caught Giselle’s attention. She shot straight up in her bed and looked at you with huge eyes. “No way!”

“Yeah way!” you giggled deviously. You turned around to face her. “What do you think of this outfit?”

“You look cute!” Giselle praised, nodding to your red strawberry dress and your knee-highs. You slumped. There it was again - cute. Not hot, not pretty, but cute. That was what you were; like a child, like the kid Seokmin knew years ago, like his best friend’s baby sister. Nothing more.

“Who is this mystery guy?” Apparently Giselle was too busy rubbing sleep out of her eyes to see how her compliment had deflated you.

“It’s Seokmin. My-”

“Your brother’s best friend?!” She gasped. It was one shock after another from you that morning. “I wanna say I’m disappointed in you, but.. If you pull this off you’re way freakier than me.”

“We’re not gonna have sex!” you groaned, pouting as you hastily shoved on your shoes. “We’re gonna play Mario Kart.”

“Right, this cute guy just invited you over for Mario Kart and nothing else, I get it,” Giselle said sarcastically.

“You don’t know him,” you mumbled defensively, shoes on and now staring at yourself in the mirror once more. “Cute,” the mirror spat at you.

“All men are the same,” Giselle rolled her eyes and threw herself back on the bed. You snorted and began to walk out the door.

“Y/n, wait!”

“Hm?”

Halfway out the door, a tote bag slung over your shoulder and ready to step into the sunlight, you peered back into the room. Giselle, in her sweats and hair fussed, stumbled blindly towards the door. She reached into her pocket and produced a-

“A condom?!” you shrieked, outraged. And not just any condom: a condom in white packaging with the lettering “I ❤️ DILFS”. You truly did not understand how Giselle managed to be a caricature of herself time after time.

“You need to wear protection, he’s in a frat, right?” she shrugged. You glared at her. “I’m not bringing a condom.”

“Alright, I guess,-” Giselle pretended to think, “I guess, you’ll just have to get chlamydia.”

You stared at her for a moment, bristling. Then you snatched it out of her outstretched hand.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re a prude.”

“Goodbye, Giselle!”

The condom slipped into your tote with ease to lay snug with all your other items and then you were out the door and heading towards Seokmin’s frat house. The sun was dulled by a few clouds, but it was still shining. Leaves were turning brown and red and yellow and were falling from trees to crunch underfoot - everything was lovely.

But the expanse, in your head, was much different. In your head you were traveling the soft dunes of a desert, spotting in the brown and red and yellow horizon a cleft in the sand. When you reached it, wide and long, seemingly endless to each side of you, you were standing right in front of Seokmin’s house.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, knuckles white where you grasped your tote, and eyes big and heart pounding. What if Giselle was right? Did you want her to be right? Would you even be able to please him if she was? Half-heartedly you tried to push away the images of Seokmin pushing into you, arms flexing on either side of your head, that spawned alongside the thought. Maybe you straddling him, his hands on your ass, his head buried in your chest, or-

“Y/N!”

You jumped, clutching your bag tight, when you snapped your head up to the voice. It was Seokmin and he was waving at you from his upstairs-window, smiling so brightly you swore the sun reflected off of his teeth.

“What are you standing there for, come inside! Door’s unlocked!” he yelled, body disappearing in the window. You stared at the window for a moment, his presence now absent, before you nodded to yourself in reassurance. You could do this, right? Just Mario Kart and small talk.

Truth was, you couldn’t do this. Not even in the slightest. You and Seokmin sat cross-legged on his bed, TV on the wall before it, drinking soda and crunching on chips. Seokmin was drenched in a green, fuzzy sweater, collarbones peeking over the rounded neck, and fingers peeking through the sleeves, where he held his controller, and God forbid, his hair was all soft and fluffy, and he was wearing fucking puppy socks.

And he was competitive, too. He was leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he sped through the course. You huffed when he blue-shelled you, and you tried to refocus.

“I thought you said you were good?” he teased, eyes leaving the screen for only a second to look at you - you, dress bunched up to your thighs and tongue peeking through your pretty, subtly red lips. A second was all that was necessary.

Suddenly, his character (baby Daisy) swerved off-course, falling into the pit below and he screeched, seemingly genuinely sad, as your character (Toadette) overtook him, the little gold badge popping up in the corner to tell you that you were number one.

“What were you saying?” you giggled cockily when you finished the last round, Seokmin unable to quite catch up to you in the last stretch. He threw himself back on the bed in defeat, groaning into his hand.

“I can’t believe I let you win,” he cried.

“Let me?” you repeated in disbelief. You scoffed and put down the controller, pretending that Seokmin lying all angelic on his bed sheets wasn’t making your stomach pinch with static. “Pretty sure that was just pure skill on my part. Don’t blame me because you’re bad at Mario Kart.”

A blow to his talents in Mario Kart was a blow to him. He snapped his head up to look at you, playfully angry. “Oh, oh wow, really? I’m bad at Mario Kart now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, smiling cheekily at him. Seokmin studied you for a moment, before he shuffled into a sitting position. His gaze almost made you shy. Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him?

Seokmin shuffled closer to you and you almost stopped breathing: “Don’t I remember you being ticklish?”

You were almost so caught up in your fantasy to realize what he said. Your eyes widened in realization and you most immediately tried to twist your body away: a punishment was upon you.

“No- NO!-” You cried out but it was too late. Seokmin wrestled his body into yours, fingers dancing and prodding into your sides. Drowning in laughter, your face twisted into tortured pleasure, as you tried to bat his hands away. Your attempts were futile - each time you shuffled away, he followed right with you, fingers unrelenting as your torso twisted and turned.

"Hehehehehehe- NO, PLEASE!- hehehehehehe!”

Your knees pushed with all their might and you were almost able to drag yourself to the edge of the bed. There, you could gain distance and talk him down from beyond his desk. But Seokmin was smart. He sensed your escape plan when you squirmed away, and without much thought, he pulled his body on top of yours, weight pinning you down.

You were still giggling and squirming, when his fingers finally let up. You were both panting from the excitement, Seokmin smiling down at you adoringly. Then, both of your smiles dropped.

It was like it took a few moments to realize; he was straddling you. Hips pushed into yours, all his weight rested on your crotch - your crotch, which was now pulsating. To make matters worse, the skirt of your dress had ridden up and most of your plush thighs were now visible to him, and your chest was halfway out of your dress, and your cheeks were flushed and your hair was spread out on the sheets beneath you. Seokmin seemed unsure of where to put his hands, while you both stared at each other, breathing in the thick, heavy silence.

“I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay, I-”

“I really- I don’t know what-”

“Don’t worry-”

You were pulling down your dress again, cheeks literally flaming red and bottom lip caught between your teeth. Silence swallowed you both whole.

You wanted him back on your hips so bad. It hurt. You were aching in quick pulses, but you couldn’t even look at him. Surely, you thought, surely, he’d seen that look on your face, how your eyes clouded over with lust. Maybe he felt disgusted.

“I better-” you hiccupped, voice small, “I better go.”

Seokmin, eyes peeking at you through his lashes, feared he made you uncomfortable.

“Yeah, of course,” he mumbled.

You gathered your things and ran out of there, wetness gushing out of you. You tried to run, tried to create distance, but this time, in your mind’s eye, you ran in place, staying completely still by the cleft separating you and Seokmin. You fiddled with the edge, sand cascading into the empty, endless dark.

There was no way you could make that jump.

That night you wished Giselle was by your side. You wrote an assignment, trying to ward off the embarrassment that stormed in your brain, when you got a message, that plunged you into rock bottom:

Lee Seokmin: hey you forgot smth at my house lol

Lee Seokmin: *Image Attached*

This was it. You were going to jump off a bridge (or a cleft in a dry, sandy wasteland).

As if your life couldn’t get anymore embarrassing: it was the condom. The white condom with “I ❤️ DILFS” on it. You damned that woman for ever making you bring it. What must he have thought of you? His best friend’s little sister trying to get in his pants? Your cheeks were burning and you threw your head into your pillow and screeched. Your life was over. It had simply ended now. There was no coming back from this. You huffed and removed yourself from its plushness.

Maybe you could salvage it? Thinking on your feet, you replied:

You: OMG i’m so sorry!!!! i think that’s my roommate’s, she must’ve put it in my bag… :/

You: I’ll come pick it up ASAP :((((

You stared at your phone at the blatant. It was not a far stretch from the truth, but being caught with your hand in the cookie jar - or maybe more so the I ❤️ DILFS condom in your tote bag - it seemed like an irrationally shitty cover up.

You gnawed at your lip when the three dots popped up next to his picture, and bit it to pieces waiting for his reply. You almost jumped when your phone buzzed:

Lee Seokmin: hahahahaha

Lee Seokmin: you can come pick it up tomorrow if u want? theres no rush

You glared at the message. Laughter? Surely he hadn’t bought it. He was just trying to be nice, just trying to avoid you any embarrassment. The thought made you wanna throw up, how he felt this obligation to be nice to you when you had permanently scarred him (were you being dramatic?).

You: ok. im rlly sorry again!! i’ll pick it up tomorrow _____________________________

Tomorrow came much faster than you had hoped. No amount of tossing and turning could slow down the passage of time, and by the time you received Seokmin’s promised “I’m awake”-message, the embarrassment hadn’t faded one bit.

Every discouraged moment of getting ready was haunted by your current situation, and you stopped to cringe every five seconds, causing an honest and diligent self-hatred to bubble within you. When you knocked on Seokmin’s door, you’d honestly never felt less confident in your life.

“Y/n!” he said enthusiastically.

“Seokmin,” you said, less enthusiastic.

He smiled at you sweetly, almost as sympathetically, before stepping aside. You furrowed your brow, not really understanding why he couldn’t just hand it to you at the door, but stepping inside nonetheless. “It’s in my room,” he offered, but could he not just have brought it with him? Did he have to prolong the shame even further? You followed him to his room.

In that moment you hated Seokmin for being who he was; for being sweet, gentle, caring, and gentlemanly. You would feel less pathetic if he yelled at you, if he was genuinely disgusted and wanted nothing to do with you. But there he was all smiling and supportive, and he wasn’t touching you at all, but he still felt like pillars on your back, soothing you and holding you up.

“It was your roommate’s?” he asked absently as you traversed the halls. “Uh, yeah,” you answered sheepishly.

“I can tell,” he threw his head back to you, and there was a huge grin on his face. A little bit of hope blossomed in your chest. “Yeah, I saw her at that party, you know? I think she slept with, uh, my friend, Minghao.”

“That’ll be her,” you were smiling now too, and a huge wave of relief washed over you, as he at least let you believe that he thought it wasn’t your perversion bringing along that condom.

Finally stumbling into his room, he did indeed pick it up from his desk, handing it back to you. You looked at it in his outstretched hand and blushed sheepishly. “Thanks,” you squeaked.

Seokmin nodded in response. For a moment the two of you stood, uncertain of what to do and caught in the web of a terribly awkward silence. Seokmin’s eyes darted to the window and yours to the floor.

“Hey, uh,” he giggled a little, scratching the back of his head. “I feel really bad for losing that Mario Kart game-”

You scoffed in response, but the facade of being peeved was falling apart, as you beamed up at him.

“Maybe we could do, like, a quick rematch?”

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant with an ever-heavy flush in your cheeks: “I don’t back away from a challenge.”

Seokmin won the rematch. This only spurred on another rematch, and suddenly there was no end to the madness. This time there was no awkwardness, no lingering silences. You were just giggling and strategizing, and throwing heat in the direction of your opponents.

That uncomfortable, clamoring feeling left you, slowly. It became easy to forget it. That feeling that he was only there with you because of Vernon, that there was always some sort of demand, a twisting hand, forcing him upon you, and that you became a sort of burden on him. That was the thing about Seokmin, though, his ability to make you feel like his best friend; his ability to make him feel like he was there for you, even when he wasn’t.

It was only after an hour and a half or so, when Seokmin paused the game.

“What the hell, Lee? I was just about to beat you!” you whined, crossing your arms. He nodded along, pushing himself off the bed. “Yes, I agree, which is why I’ve assessed that I need a refreshment.”

“Oh, you’ve assessed?”

“Yeah, I’ve assessed that I need a fresh, cooling drink in my gullet.”

You both laughed a little and slumped back, dropping the controller. Seokmin smiled at you, eyes twinkling. “You want one?”

“What are you getting?”

“A beer,” Seokmin said. Rationally, you knew you shouldn’t accept. You were bad with alcohol, and everytime you drank just a little, a little easily became a lot. That was why you took yourself by surprise when your voice left your mouth, chipper and grand: “Sure!”

One beer turned into another, and Mario Kart turned into talking on his bed, slumped into his fortress of pillows and giggling at his stories. You were a little tipsy, halfway into your second beer and your face was flushed and Seokmin was lying on his side, hand propped up under his head, as he made you laugh again.

“Your kind of partying sounds… Extreme,” you murmured, rim of the bottle pushed against your lips where your words slightly slurred. Mario Kart and alcohol had gotten you a little out of your shell, and now you and Seomin were talking like friends - as if your brother didn’t even exist. You basked in the alcoholic buzz and in this reality, this hideout, where your lovely brother didn’t exist and the faint ache in your legs at Seokmin’s godly face in the bedside lamp wasn’t so utterly misplaced.

“I think anything’s more extreme than your partying,” Seokmin mused teasingly. You huffed, putting down your beer and smoothing over your skirt. Everything was so lovely and artificially yellow and his body beside yours radiated pleasant heat. He was beautiful, you thought, looking at how the sweaters pooled on his torso and how his brown hair looked so soft and messy. You almost felt the absence of ground beneath you, when you imagined yourself at the cleft again.

“You don’t know about my kind of partying,” you joked and he chuckled softly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t make assumptions.”

You looked at him and he was suddenly serious. The smiley, gooey Seokmin was gone and his eyes, although not threatening at all, were prodding at you. Your smile fell. The alcohol at this time felt misplaced and wrong, the lightness felt wrong.

“Were you gonna, you know, go with Jeonghan at the party?” he whispered. The world was suddenly very quiet, as if it were following Seokmin’s tact. You grimaced a little. “No. No, not really.”

He studied you. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, opting to look at your hands in your lap. “Why not?”

A pause.

You began to pick at your own fingertips, nails digging into the cuticles. Seokmin’s eyes dragged from your face to your hands, and he scooted closer to you, only to cover your hand with his, stopping your movements immediately. Suddenly so close, his voice was whispered right in your ear, so soft and so gentle, it felt like a kiss: “Don’t do that.”

You sucked in a breath, hands ripping to your sides to lay stiff. “I’m, uh, I’m not that experienced, so I..”

Your eyes flicked up to gauge his reaction. In your worst nightmares, you imagined a laugh breaking onto his face, maybe disgust, but you felt yourself melting. He looked at you so softly, like you were the most precious, fragile thing and his hand had stilled in the air after you pushed it off, as if, like the most enchanting artwork at a museum, he fought desperately not to reach out and touch you.

It was unbearable - how still the air had become, how heavy you felt, how your chest struggled to expand. You talked again, if only to fill the air with your babbling: “I’ve not had.. I mean, I can hardly get myself off… So. I probably. Couldn’t. Get him off.”

You realized about halfway through your sentence that you should not have said that. That last half of your sentence was a breathy mess, as your voice became shaky with humiliation. His gaze, a delicate constant, was not helping either. You felt tears welling up in your eyes suddenly and maybe that was the worst part.

“You have trouble getting yourself off?” he repeated, as if to make sure. “Like masturba-”

“Yeah, that,” you squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn’t tell if you wanted him to shut up forever, so you’d never have to know his reaction, or if you wanted him to talk and be able to sense how this information changed his perception of you. His voice came, in spite of whatever you had hoped.

“I figured you were a virgin,” he mumbled, voice half muted by the palm of his hand, “but I thought you at least masturbated-”

“I do!” you defended yourself, voice much louder than his and brows furrowing and tears threatening to spill over your eyes. “I’m just- I’m not that good at it.”

“Hey,” he said softly, hand landing on your arm. You immediately shut up, lip trembling when you struggled to meet his eyes. “Relax, Y/n. It’s okay. I’m not judging you.”

You nodded half-heartedly, still incredibly uneasy.

“If you want…” Seokmin’s voice trailed off. His eyes ventured over your form briefly, licking his lips. “You know, if you want, I could teach you.”

You looked at him silently. He seemed to snap out of whatever loopy trance he had been sucked into, because he was suddenly very jittery and scrambling through the bedsheets. “Uh, I mean- you don’t- God, I’m sorry- it was only if-”

“Yes,” you said. His scrambling stilled immediately. His eyes were teacups.

“You sure?”

You nodded, not trusting your own voice.

Seokmin squeezed his eyes shut, gulping as he sat back against the bed. His legs spread apart. “Come here,” he patted his thighs.

You felt terribly sober. All that buzz and butterflies and blaze and blossom was gone and you felt like a doll, moving each limb individually, as you climbed into his lap, back to him. You were unable to think, unable to truly process what was happening, what it meant, as you felt his form engulf yours.

His hands found purchase on your hips and his breath was warm on your neck, as you felt every ridge of his abdomen on your back. His thumbs rubbed against your hip bone.

“Okay, now show me how you usually do it,” his voice was a warm hum, a twinge of nervousness laced in it. Your face was lit ablaze and you squirmed in his hold, when one hand left your hip to gently push your legs apart. You sat, all open and held against him, dress keeping you covered.

“It’s embarrassing,” you huffed, being very serious, but Seokmin smiled and nosed your hair gently.

“We can stop whenever you want, seriously, if you get uncomfortable, we stop” he reassured.

“It’s just me.”

It was. It was just Seokmin, your brothers best friend, the sweetest boy in the world, who used to have a swanky bowl cut and dorky school uniform and who was always Vernon’s most respectful friend, but he was hot and whispering into your ear and one hand was massaging the outside of your thigh.

“Should I take my dress off?” you breathed, face turned halfway back to him. His hands squeezed at you in response and you could faintly make out his tongue sliding over his lips.

“Only if you want, angel,” he whispered back, rubbing your sides tenderly. “We’re not doing anything you don’t want. Whatever makes you feel good. ‘M just here to help.”

You nodded, and although the answer was maybe made to make you keep your dress on - a reassurance that there was no need to discard it - you removed yourself from his grasp, hands coming to tug your dress off. You felt a small boost of confidence when you heard Seokmin breathe out: “Shit.”

Only in your bra and panties (terribly mismatched, your bra was black and your panties were pink), you leaned back into his hold, and you noted how Seokmin’s warm hands were much more careful now, splaying out on your bare skin.

“Are you comfortable now?” he asked quietly. You nodded. He propped his head up on your shoulder, eyes cast down your almost-nude body, chest rising and falling. Your legs were closed again, he noticed, and his veiny hand reached down to open them again. “Show me how you do it, baby, so I can help you improve.”

You gummed your lip, breathing in one last time, before your nervous fingers began dancing their way to your panties. They disappeared under the fabric for only a moment, before Seokmin spoke again.

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, hand wrapping around your wrist to stop its track. “Don’t just dive right in, you need to get yourself all hot first.”

Your brows furrowed and some of the embarrassment you felt from being this exposed and pressed into Seokmin evaporated into genuine confusion.

“What? What do you mean?” you said, somewhat outraged, and Seokmin couldn’t help the laughter blooming in his chest at that. He vibrated against your back, hands smoothing down your arm. You pouted: “Don’t laugh at me, Minnie.”

He stopped, still smiling as he nosed your temple. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your head, that had your heart beating out of your chest. “You’re just so cute.”

Cute. You remembered your disdain for that word, but somehow, when it came from his lips, it made you beam. Everywhere he touched left behind a hot, burning ghost on your skin.

“You just have to touch your body, sweetheart,” he said sweetly. You thrashed in defiance, crying out quietly with red cheeks. Wiggling your body angrily, you felt his dick half-hard in his pants against your lower back.

“Can’t you do it?” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to take over and make you feel good. He sucked in a harsh breath behind you, fingers wrapping around your hands to soothe you still. He seemed to debate your proposal, but eventually he kissed your shoulder and spoke: “Okay, baby, but you have to show me you understand, alright?” you nodded feverishly. “We’re trying to get you to learn.”

The whole thing had you dizzy, warm and gooey in his hands, and grounding yourself on his solid torso. You had tunnel vision, unable to focus on anything but his warm hands and sweet voice, and how fucking hard he was. You leaned your head up to look at him pleadingly. Even upside-down he was pretty. He giggled at your starstruck expression.

“Look at my hands, pretty,” he tapped your nose and you scrunched it, turning down to your own body, where he sat his hands on your waist. “You do it like this.”

His hands started dragging over your skin, creating constellations of ghosts on your skin. One dragged across your stomach and down your leg, squeezing it along the way, and the other brushed over your bra-covered chest, landing on your shoulder and collarbones. Then they moved oppositely, then diverged from their chosen paths, and you started breathing heavily. Pressure built up in your stomach and your panties, and you felt how slick started leaking out of you.

“Feel good?” Seokmin grinned against your neck, listening to the melody of your panted gasps. You nodded earnestly, moaning softly. Seokmin furrowed his brows at that noise, pressing kisses to your neck appreciatively. “Good girl. Such pretty sounds.”

Both of Seokmin’s hands dragged up to your ribs. There, they paused. “Can I touch your chest, baby?”

“Please,” you whimpered, and earned another sloppy kiss to the cheek. His hands immediately grabbed ahold of your chest, softly rubbing it over your bra.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered. You hesitated for a moment. “Um, I don’t feel much, honestly.”

You’d expect him to be a little angry or defensive, but Seokmin only hummed and nustled himself into your hair. “Good girl. Good girl, being so honest with me. So pretty.”

You whined at his praise and Seokmin smiled smugly, taking notice of how heated you got from his words.

“The- the fabric is in the way..” you whimpered meekly, and Seokmin nodded in understanding, stroking your sides soothingly.

“You want to take off your bra?” he hummed, truly as if it would not expose you to him, as if it weren’t a lewd and depraved scenario, but something as simple as the weather. You nodded, removing yourself from the harbor of his arms once more to remove it. You unclipped it and threw it God knows where, before settling back into him. Seokmin peeked over your shoulder at your now bare breasts, groaning a little and covering it up with a cough. This was about you.

Seokmin placed his hands on your tits again, massaging and rubbing the soft skin, before he brushed his thumbs over your hardened nipples.

You moaned - for the first time it was a clear moan, seething from your throat and puffing into the air. “Sound so pretty,” he muttered in your ear. “You really like that, hm?”

He pinched your nipples between his fingers, your back arching into his warm hands. Then, as soon as the pleasure had begun, it stopped, when his hands came to rest on the bed. You whined, twisting your head towards his, only to be stopped by fingers on your chin, turning you back forward. “Show me you can do it now, baby. You’re learning,” he reminded you.

“But, Minnie, I want your hands,” you whined and he tutted softly in your ear. “I know, baby, but I need to know that you’re understanding this in that pretty little head of yours. Need to know you’re focusing. Come on, show me now.”

Huffing, you placed your own hands (they somehow felt more foreign than his now) on your stomach and began to mimic his movements. You smoothed them up and down on your body, squeezing, then placed them on your chest, rubbing and pinching your nipples.

“There you go,” he praised, and his hands had traveled to your shoulders, massaging them gently. You whimpered and turned your head to him again.

“Can you teach me how to touch my…” you trailed off.

“Your pussy?” he offered, as if it was nothing, as if it wasn’t vulgar or lewd. You nodded vigorously. Feeling him gulp a little, his hands became a little unsteady as they came to hold your waist again. “Can I hear you say it? Baby?” he asked and suddenly his voice was a little shaky, a little breathless.

“Can you touch my pussy now, Minnie?” you asked, and any shame had been clouded over with lust. You’d never been this burningly bothered in your life, you needed him to touch you. He groaned, and this time he was unable to cover it up. You felt how his hard cock strained against his sweatpants, how it pressed into your back, and you wanted to touch it so bad.

“Alright, baby, want your panties off?” His sharp nose was pressed into your hair. You shook your head. “Want them on.”

He nodded. “Alright, jus’ tell me if you wanna stop, okay? I’m gonna touch you now.”

His hand slipped under the waistband of your panties, disappearing under the pink fabric. As if they were always meant to be there, his fingers slipped through your folds, coming down to circle your slit in impossibly light figurations.

“Shit,” he panted, grip on your waist suddenly bruising, as he tried to steady himself. “You’re so wet, baby, you like Seokminnie that much?”

“Yeah, I do,” you nodded blindly, your own hands coming to grip onto his thighs. His middle finger danced upwards and pressed against your clit, and you immediately squeaked and shut your legs around his hand.

“No, no, baby, don’t do that,” he frowned, hand that wasn’t buried in your pussy spreading your legs again. You felt how his legs, pressed against you, came to hook onto yours, forcing your legs apart with his own strength. He hummed in content.

His finger pressed onto your clit again, and he felt how your legs tensed, straining against his to close. Your back arched and you moaned, eyes squeezed shut. He began rubbing it, and it was so intimate, how close you were to him, how his hand navigated your sopping wet pussy, fingers just rubbing you gently, and how bare you were, his eyes training over your bouncing tits when you thrashed.

His fingers moved downwards again, gathering the wetness that was gushing out of you. Then, one long middle finger pushed into you. Canting into his hand, you moaned loudly and turned your head into his neck. Nosing the tan skin and inhaling his faint cologne, you began mindlessly kitten-licking the skin. His Adam's apple bopped under your tongue.

“You’re so tight,” he rasped, beginning to slowly push his finger in and out of you. His other hand had come to wrap around your waist in an attempt to calm the sudden bucking of your hips against his hand.

His hand moved faster, obscene, wet sounds coming from your ruined underwear, where he worked diligently into your pussy. He slipped another finger in, and you cried from the stretch. It was becoming hard to contain you, thrashing and writhing against his hold, stuck between wanting to move closer and to move away entirely. His fingers tied a knot in your stomach.

“That’s right, pretty, tell me how good Minnie’s fingers feel,” he whispered hoarsely above your ear. You could almost only whine and moan, nipping at his neck a little. “Tell me or I’ll stop,” he warned.

“Feels so good!” you whined immediately, because if he stopped now, you figured you might start crying. “Feel so, so, so good, fuck, Seokmin, I’m-”

“I know, baby, I know, but I’m teaching you, right?”

Though your mind was fuzzy, you sensed what these words meant and panicked, hand coming down to grip his wrist in an attempt to hold him in place. “Please, please, please, Seokmin, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!”

“Don’t talk back to me, sweetheart. I won’t stop, just talk to me. Tell me what you feel me doing,” pushing your head up again, Seokmin pressed his face against your cheek, so hard, you felt his humid pants against it.

Your mind was so hazy, so transfixed on the feeling in your stomach and his finger in your pussy, you could hardly respond.

“Tell me or I’ll stop, baby,” he reminded you again, and you scrambled frantically to focus.

“Nngh! You’re- pushing in and out-” your voice broke, hips stuttering against his hand, that was continuing its remorseless pace.

“Yeah, and?”

You furrowed your brows, lips trembling. “You’re- you’re curling them- A-ah!”

“That’s right. Such a good girl. So smart and clever for me,” Seokmin whispered happily, his other hand slipping down your stomach to circle your clit. Both his hands working pleasure into your pussy, you cried out loudly, head pushed back into his chest.

“Just let go, baby, I can feel you clenching on me so hard. Wan’ me to stay in your pussy forever, hm? Just let go, cum whenever you want, wanna see your pretty face so bad,” somehow Seokmin was just as intoxicated off of lust as you, despite staying, hard and untouched, in his pants. But he babbled mindless praise to you, and you came to his sweet voice whispering in your ear.

Your orgasm sent you hurdling over the edge - the edge, the one you’d been standing at hopelessly for years. You flew across it and landed on Seokmin’s territory; in his arms.

“Seokmin, a-ah!” you cried, releasing all over his fingers, coating them in your cum. Your entire body arched upwards, as you moaned into the night. Seokmin rode you through your high, pressing sweet kisses into your hair.

You fell limp against his body, worn out, when he finally retracted his fingers from your pussy. You snuggled into his sweater with a content hum.

Seokmin smiled down at you, eyes brimming with fondness, as his cum-slicked hands wrapped around your torso in a hug, holding you into him. “You did so well,” he whispered genuinely.

You looked up at him with a tired smile. “Thank you, Seokmin.”

He held himself back from saying he would do that a thousand times over, in fact, he wouldn’t mind never pulling out - he could live with only one hand. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered: “Of course, darling.”

Your brows furrowed and you pulled yourself away from him a little, eyeing the tent in his pants worriedly. “Do you want me to-”

“No,” he shook his head decidedly. “No, I’ll take care of it.”

You looked at him with big, innocent eyes, that only furthered the throbbing of his cock. Partially, he wanted to give in so badly. The thought of your hand around his cock, all pouty and innocent and confused, and how heavy it would be in your small hand, had made him cum more times than he’d like to admit. But, he reminded himself, this was about you. This was a favor. “Are you sure?” you asked softly.

“Yes, baby, go to bed. I’m gonna go get you some fresh clothes.”

You snuggled into bed while Seokmin scurried away to fetch a shirt and some boxers, and when he came back you cooperated limply in taking off your panties, and putting on what he’d given you. You fell asleep in his bed, cuddling his duvet, and surrounded by his scent.

Seokmin watched you in adoration. How peaceful you looked, chest rising and falling, and a little pout on your lips.

He wandered through the house, trying simultaneously to get as far from you as possible, and also trying to decide which of his housemates he currently hated the most. He landed on Jeonghan, slipping into his empty room and settling himself on the bed.

There, he fisted his solid fucking cock and bucked into his own hand, eyes squeezed shut to remember how you looked under his hands, how you begged for him, how well you listened, what a good girl you were for him. His moans were trembling and muffled by his own hand, and when he came, he felt momentarily smug, looking at how it dripped over Jeonghan’s sheets (served him right). Then, post-nut clarity sank in, as he reentered his own room and cuddled into you on the bed.

He felt almost despicable. He felt gross and evil and perverted and lewd, not because of you, but because, as if it were his first time realizing it, he remembered that you were Vernon’s sister. He remembered that he had promised to protect you from manipulative guys and always watch over you, and help you if you needed help, and report to Vernon if you were acting weird. Yet here he was, letting you cum on his hand and groping your tits, as if he was still that teenage boy with that swanky bowl cut.

After an hour of chewing on his lips and frowning, Seokmin let your sweet perfume lull him to sleep. He dreamt of you. _____________________________

There’s a blissful instant that morning when you wake up, curled into Seokmin’s arms, head nuzzled in his chest. There’s a blissful instant when you tilt your head, staring at his sleeping face, and he’s so beautiful, features all soft and breathing rhythmically. There’s a blissful instant where you see him, and your heart weeps in your chest because he’s so gorgeous.

Then it’s gone.

A panic button is pressed in your head, and your nerve-endings, each one resting on him, begin burning. What had you done? Yesterday feels like a faraway dream, but he’s still wearing that sweater and it grounds you in the reality of what had happened.

You’re lost. What did this mean for the two of you? Was Seokmin just lusting after you? But that couldn’t be right, you thought, because he’d insisted on only helping you, refused your offers to help him, which now was making you rot in his arms with guilt. Was this genuinely an attempt to help you? To be diligently by your side at the request of your brother? But surely this had been outside of the realm of what was acceptable to help your best friend’s baby sister with? Did that mean he liked you?

Seokmin awakened from your sudden squirming, as if, with enough shaking and turning, that feelings and thoughts would just fall out of you. They didn’t, they stayed right where they were, and all you were given in return was Seokmin’s eyes fluttering open.

You watched him go through that same process; the bliss came first and then the panic. Seokmin’s eyes went from adoring to wide and grave and suddenly he was shuffling away from you on the bed, creating a cool distance between you on the landscape of his mattress. You didn’t miss the pink dusting his cheeks.

“Uh- good morning,” he mumbled, and he could only look at his hands. Your throat was unbelievably dry. “Morning.”

You’re not sure how you both managed, but you went through that morning without mentioning the previous night even once. The air was thick with tension, fleeting glances, and shaky hands, while Seokmin made you both bowls of oatmeal. You stood on the other side of the counter in his shirt and his boxers.

You ate in his bed. It was silent and heavy and each clink of spoons against the bowl-rims had you both wincing. He put on a TV-show and you sat across from one another, chewing wordlessly to some drama in the background. Your belly was pooling with tension and light cascaded onto you, revealing your pores and flaws. Were you a bad person?

Finally, finally, Seokmin put down his spoon with yet another clink, fingers catching the bridge of his nose and eyes squeezing shut. He huffed into the palm of his hand, swallowing the oatmeal hard.

“Uh-” he began and his voice cracked, “Y/n. About last night-”

But you cut him off, and he couldn’t ever, even in his wildest dreams, have imagined that these words would come out of your mouth:

“I want to return the favor.”

The words were almost spat and discarded, as if they’d been sitting on the tip of your tongue all morning with a foul taste, and you’d only now been able to rid yourself of it. Seokmin snapped his head towards you, a genuine surprise on his face, but he soon wished he hadn’t looked at all.

You were so pretty, sitting cross legged in his shirt and a blush creeping up your neck and cheeks all shiny in the morning sun. And there was this innocence to your eyes, big lashes shadowing it only a little; this earnestness that told him you really, really wanted to do this for him.

“I-” he chuckled a little, heart clenching at your sweetness, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, it’s good that I’m asking you then,” you said, and though the comment was witty, when Seokmin looked at you again, he saw how careful you looked, and how unsure you were of yourself.

“Listen, N/n,” he reached out to grab your hand, and it was burning into yours, each area of adjoined skin screaming at you with reminders of last night. “You don’t have to do that. I just wanted to make you feel good, I was happy to just be of service to you-”

“But I want to make you feel good,” you pouted, almost brattily. Seokmin’s gentle expression and tone faded into something darker, as his eyes flitted down to your exposed legs and your heaving chest. He swallowed, putting away his bowl of oatmeal and collecting himself.

“Are you sure? You need to be absolutely 100% sure-”

“I’m sure, Minnie. I want to-” you broke off your own words with a squeak, face becoming bright red. You leaned in self-consciously, as if to tell him a secret: “I want to suck your dick.”

Your whispered admittance had him groaning, groaning at how sweet and innocent your voice was, how you couldn’t even say it loudly, you had to whisper the dirty word to him. He wanted you so badly, wanted to be the one to take away your innocence, to make you all dirty and beg for him, to make you thrash and whine and to teach you how to really feel good. He wanted you.

It’s like a switch had flipped, when Seokmin put his hand on the back of your head, and suddenly you were kissing again. The tension from before was replaced with something wholly different, something hot, something laced in the eye contact he gave you, before he leaned it again.

And Seokmin was kissing you with a fervor that you recognized from yourself - you both wanted to forget. Wanted to forget Vernon, who, although a great brother and friend, had become a heavy strain on your relationship with Seokmin. So you kissed him and let his tongue in your mouth when it swiped over your bottom lip, and you sucked on it, and you let him and yourself get lost in each other.

The sound of smacking lips and saliva was so lewd too, especially when Seokmin’s hand pulled you from your spot on the bed and into his lap, hands roaming your body, while you tangled into his hair. He was half-moaning into your mouth by the time he pulled away, face flushed and eyes darker and lower and lips swollen red.

“You gonna let me use that pretty mouth, baby?” he whispered against your lips, one hand palming over his cock through his boxers. You nodded, almost desperately, one hand reaching out to his in his lap. “Can I touch it?”

Seokmin smiled fondly, looking down at where your small hand was outstretched towards his cock. “Yeah, baby, go ahead.”

You were a bit clumsy at first, but soon enough you found its outline in his black boxers and you squeezed it a little. Seokmin crooked over, groaning into your shoulder. You felt him get harder and harder against your palm, a small smile at the desperate noises he was making.

Seokmin had laid his cheek on your shoulder, neck twisting to stare up at you, while you focused solely on touching him, and he hated himself for getting even harder because it was you - you, who he had wanted for so long, who he was hugged into and lying on, while you touched his warm cock.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, breathing heavily, and then smiling brightly when you became all sheepish, smiling and looking away, so that you had to pause your actions. He nosed into your neck, regaining some semblance of control over the situation, now that you weren’t touching him, and his breath was warm and humid on your skin. He pressed small kisses up to your jawline, nose flattening against you.

“So, so pretty. Fuck, imagining you with my cock in your mouth, all drooling and shit. Fuck, baby, you gonna let me fuck your mouth?” he rambled, hands finding home on your tits again. You whined and nodded, trying to pry him off of you. Immediately (forever struggling with a little concern that you might’ve changed your mind) he pulls away, looking up at you worriedly.

“Don’t- don’t touch me, I don’t wanna get.. All hot,” you whispered those words that he had said last night, biting your lip in worry. “I want to do it now.”

Seokmin melted completely, and in a complete inability to contain his adoration, brushed hair out of your face and pressed a million kisses to your cheeks and your nose. “Okay,” he said in between kisses, and you felt his smile on your skin, “okay, baby. But if it gets too much, tap my thigh three times, okay? If you need anything, if you feel uncomfortable.”

“Yes, yes,” you huffed, pushing yourself away from him and hopping onto the floor, sinking to your knees before the bed.

It felt completely unreal - to both of you. How you were suddenly on your knees and how he settled in front of you, bare, thick thighs on either side of your head. Everything was all light and all the places he’d kissed and touched had become holy and glowing on your body. He shimmed his boxers off and you gaped at the sudden exposure of his dick.

He was hard. Apparently the kissing and groping had been enough, because it slapped against his sweater, leaking silky white liquid from the tip. And he was big - you didn’t exactly have a good point of reference, but you vaguely sensed from Giselle’s words that this was quite a feat.

And actually seeing it brought a wave of uncertainty on you, not as to whether or not you wanted to do it, but how. So, you blinked up at him with a small frown, voice small when you spoke: “Seokmin.. How- how do I do it?”

Seokmin practically glowed with adoration, when he petted your head and rubbed your cheek, seemingly so comfortable despite being totally bare. “You just put your lips around it and suck, baby, it’s easy,” he said softly, then added, a little panicked: “And be mindful of your teeth.”

“But it’s so big,” you marveled, eyes trained on it, and he almost groaned at it, because you sounded so genuinely amazed, so disbelieving.

“Just put your hands around the parts you can’t reach. I’ll be gentle, baby, don’t worry,” he said. You nodded hesitantly, leaning forward towards it, but his hand in your hair suddenly clenched and pulled you back. You looked up at him and saw his eyes brimming with worry. “You do want this, right?”

“Yes, please, stop being so- so gentle with me and let me suck your dick!” You whined, fed up with being treated like glass, and tugged his hand out of your hair. Seokmin visibly relaxed at your insistence, nodding.

Finally, fingers grabbing the base of it, you wrapped your mouth around the tip. You were met immediately with the taste of his pre-cum, licking over where it leaked curiously. Seokmin’s hand found your hair again, gripping it tight to steady himself, as he groaned loudly. You slowly sank down, basking in the whimpers you ripped from his mouth.

“Fuck- you’re- you’re doing so good, baby,” he cried, face twisted in pleasure and head thrown back. You looked up at him and he was so pretty and glowing, panting into the air.

You sank down as far as you could, feeling the tip sit snug against the back of your mouth, and your hands wrapped around the base of his dick. You looked up at him, experimentally squeezing, and pursing your lips around his dick to suck it carefully.

“A-ah! Fuck!” Seokmin cried, hand that wasn’t in your hair squeezing the edge of his mattress. His thighs were flexing on either side of your head. “You’re- you’re so good at this, sweetheart. Good girl, fuck, such a pretty girl for me, letting me use you like this.”

You whined at his words, squeezing your thighs together. Seokmin’s hips bucked upwards at the vibrations, hitting the back of your throat. The sudden intrusion was unexpected and you let out a garbled moan around his cock. He panted regretfully: “S-Sorry, baby, d-didn’t mean to do that, you just feel so good. Can- can you bob your head up and down it for me?”

You did, started moving your head up and down his shaft, and breathing hard through your nose, while your hands squeezed the base of his cock. Looking up at Seokmin, you felt confidence that you were doing something right. He was in heaven, face all scrunched up and breathing as if he’d just ran a marathon.

And when he peeked his down to you, he could’ve cum immediately. Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, head bopping with tears in your eyes from the pressure in your throat, and how curious and sparkling they were, gauging his reaction. The groan that clawed its way up from his heart, through his throat and out into his room quickly turned to a whimper.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum, sweet pea, can I-” he swallowed hard, because even the thought had him close to release. “Can I cum down your throat, pretty?”

You nodded, a little too preoccupied to answer, but Seokmin got it, and with just a couple more bobs, and the feeling of your wet tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, he spurted into your mouth in long ropes of white, whining at the top of his lungs, and pulling hair from the roots.

It was, admittedly, a little gross and sticky in your mouth, but it was also hot and you felt proud you’d made him feel good. He was panting, trying to recover, when you pulled off his dick, a satisfied smile on your face. His hand wandered to your face, caressing your cheekbone, before moving down to your puffy lips.

“Can I-” he was almost embarrassed, “Can I see baby? Can you open your mouth for me?”

A little confused, you did as told and opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue that was still covered in his sticky release.

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself not to get hard again. “C-Can you swallow it for me, beautiful?”

Still confused, you nodded and gulped it down, trying not to look like it felt as gross as it did. If Seokmin noticed, he didn’t remark it, because he only groaned again, and pulled you by your face into a sloppy, heated kiss.

“So, so, so good for me,” he whispered, not letting you out of the kiss, even when saliva dripped down your chin. “Such a good girl, letting me use her mouth, such an obedient, good girl.”

You whined into his mouth at those words, bothered by the aching in your core that his moans and his blissed out face had caused, and now those words repeated over and over: Good girl.

He grinned into your mouth. “Yeah? You like being my good girl, right? Like doing your best for Seokminnie?”

“Yes,” you murmured breathlessly, too lost in the feeling of his mouth and his hands rubbing your waist to come up with anything better.

Seokmin pulled away with a warm smile, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “You did well,” was all he said, and you could genuinely cry, because that was it - you just wanted to know you did well.

“I’m gonna go clean up, okay?” he said, waiting for you to nod in response before he pushed himself off the bed, snatching a new pair of boxers from a drawer on his way out of the door.

You threw yourself on the bed, closing your eyes contentedly.

He liked you. You were sure of it now, when you thought back to how his eyes had balked at you so wonderfully, how careful and attentive he’d been. You were certain, and your heart smiled and you smiled and your hair was sprawled out on his sheets and for the first time, that desert wasteland in your head welcomed you and took you in, and you were right where you were supposed to be.

Until your phone started buzzing.

It was dancing across the sheets violently at someone's call and you peeked open one eye tiredly to pick it up. And when you did, the desert turned on you. Caught in a sandstorm, you held your phone between your fingers and felt your heart drop, lowered into the acid bath of your stomach.

It was Vernon.

Vernon, who was Seokmin’s best friend. Vernon, who was your brother. Vernon, who had always yelled at you to leave his room whenever he had Seokmin over. Vernon, who didn’t like when you talked to any guys at all, who had recruited his best friend to watch over you and take care of you. Vernon, whose best friend had just had his dick in your mouth.

You heard the shower running distantly when you clicked accept, hoping to God that you didn’t look too disheveled.

“Hi, N/n!” Vernon cheered immediately on the other end. His face popped up on your screen, a bright smile on his face. You smiled too - you missed your brother - but it was half faded, and Vernon noticed immediately.

“Hi, Vern,” you said softly. His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Of course, he could read you like a book. Of course, he knew that you were distant and nervous. You sighed heavily, trying desperately to collect yourself, to remember how you usually behaved, but for some reason, that you was far gone, and you had to be splayed on his screen, like a person replaced by something peregrine.

“I’m a little stressed out,” you mumbled. “Got a lot of papers and stuff, that’s why I’m not home.”

“Come home next break, okay? We miss you and you need to get out of that place every once in a while.”

You nodded.

Vernon’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and you saw him lean closer to the screen (which would have been funny, were you not suddenly wondering if there was leftover cum on your face). “Hey, where are you right now?”

“My friend,” you said quickly - too quickly. “Her name’s Yunjin, we’re working together in chem.”

Vernon hummed, seemingly content with your answer. “Your friend has the same bed sheets as Seokmin.”

Shit, yeah, they facetimed every week, you remembered, cringing at yourself for not thinking of it earlier. You tried to play it cool, shrugging: “Weird.”

“Yeah, anyway-”

Vernon rambled on and on about something or other, but you were unable to focus, watching the door to Seokmin’s room with a worried frown.

Moreover, you felt like a whore. Realistically, you hadn’t even lost your virginity. But sleeping with your brother’s best friend suddenly felt way more real now that you were talking to said brother, now that you were lying to his face, and you felt dirty and gross and you wished you could stand before Vernon, as the same baby sister that you had been before. But you weren’t. You were disgusting.

“Vernon, I gotta go,” you cut him off, and you hadn’t heard a word. Vernon’s excited expression dropped and he furrowed his brows.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you thanked the pixels for concealing at least a bit of the worry on his face.

“Yeah, I just- I really need to get going,” you said. “Bye, Vernon!”

“By-”

You disconnected the call and gathered your things, put your own clothes back on. Throwing Seokmin’s clothes onto his floor felt like shedding a second skin - a skin that had made you ugly and greedy and lustful. You only kept his boxers on, lumping the dress over your shoulders to drape over you in an unsightly and unorganized way.

You spared a glance at the wrapped condom on his bedside table, long lost and forgotten by now. You could leave it. You could leave it and have a reason to come back, a reason to slip across that ledge again and fall into his arms and his mouth and his warmth. You almost did. Almost left it right there, where it begged to belong. But you snatched it off the counter, ignoring the way your heart clenched when you did, and slipped it into your tote bag. And you left, jumping across the border that separated you and back into your own wasteland. And it was so cold and so empty. You were alone again.

Seokmin came out of the shower, expecting to see you cuddled up in his bed, all soft and beautiful. But you weren’t there. Seokmin understood immediately. The condom was gone and so were you, only the perfume in his sheets remained, willing him to remember. And he cried. He sobbed into his own hands, because what had he done?

You did not see each other the rest of that day. Or the next day. _____________________________

Seokmin wanted to let you disappear. He wanted you to slip away and he wanted to forget it had even happened - like a burning star dies out and leaves only a faint warmth behind, lasting years. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you go, couldn’t bear knowing he’d never hold you in his arms again, never see you laugh again, never see you cum again. And he couldn’t bear knowing that maybe he’d read it wrong; maybe he’d made you uncomfortable, maybe you’d felt obligated.

So he texted you. For two days his texts came in sporadically and unsuccessfully. Questioning and pleading, he wanted to know it wasn’t true.

Lee Seokmin: why’d you leave?

Lee Seokmin: can we talk??

Lee Seokmin: i miss u

Lee Seokmin: i need to know i didnt hurt you

Lee Seokmin: can you please answer?

Each text came more painful than the last. Each text came more pleading. You sat alone in your room, in the dark, having only his one sided chats to light up your tear-streaked face.

Eventually they stopped coming. You thought they would. You thought, you knew, eventually he’d give up. But what hurt the most was knowing he wanted you too; knowing he liked you as much as you liked him. You’d seen it in his eyes, when his hand slipped between your legs, and you’d seen it when he came staring down at you.

But you preferred to remember Seokmin for how he was.

How he was small and young, how he had a swanky bowlcut and how he looked in his school uniform. How he and your big brother, Vernon, had bonded and watched movies together in your living room, and the countless dinners he’d stayed over for, always so respectful to your parents and you. You preferred to remember when he didn’t love you back.

The pain that had been tethered to your youth and to him, back when he was unreachable, just a figure you could marvel at, was so much duller compared to this pain, the one pulsed in your heart now: the pain of him loving you back, but still being off-limits. Something that could be, but was destined to die out. And it did, when he stopped texting you, you felt that unborn child’s soul leave your own. Alone again.

And then suddenly, you weren’t.

A stern knock on your door. You flinched at the sound, fearing the worst. You were in your bed, in your sweatpants and your sweater and that condom was on the bedside table, watching the door with you.

Another knock.

“Y/n, I know you’re in there!”

Seokmin. Of course, it was Seokmin. No one else would come for you. But it was all too painful. You feared the worst - feared that seeing him, you would collapse into him again, and that this time you wouldn’t be able to find your way back.

“Open the door, Y/n,” his voice was serious.

“Go away, Seokmin!” you yelled, voice breaking halfway.

A pause. When Seokmin spoke again, he was not angry anymore; he was vulnerable.

“Y/n. I-I know you don’t want to talk to me, but-” he paused, wincing at himself and you knew there was tears in his eyes. “But I need to know that I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

You thought that you could handle the self-blame Seokmin omitted - maybe that’s just because it was words on a screen. But hearing him crying outside your door, and how real he was when his hand knocked vigorously, it tore down each and every one of your last defenses.

“I need- I need to hear that you’re okay and that I-”

“I’m opening the door,” you interrupted him, and sure enough you padded to the door and swiftly unlocked it.

And then you were standing before one another. It was like time stopped, how the air stilled around you, and how the world quieted down. He was all crumpled paper hearts, all deflated and broken, and his hair was messy and his eyes were dark, but they sparkled again, just at the sight of you, and yours at him.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, breaking the enchantment cast upon you. The real world came crashing down, the people in the streets and birds in the trees and wind coursing through the leaves. The light that you’d shut out with a firm tug to the curtains was dancing on your linoleum floor. “It’s my fault. It’s- I talked to Vernon and I- I feel like shit, Seokmin. I feel like a slut.”

“You’re a virgin!” Seokmin scoffed, but it did nothing to calm you.

“It felt wrong! Because I- because you’re Vernon’s friend. Because Vernon never likes when I date guys, and because now I’ve been fooling around with his best friend,” you defended yourself, biting your lip when tears stung your eyes. Seokmin softened. “I just felt guilty. And gross.”

“You’re not gross, you’re in love,” he said softly, and your eyes locked. Everything about him was pleading - he was just short of literally falling to his knees, begging for you to hear him out. “And- and with me, of all people!”

“Seokmin-”

“And I’m in love with you too,” his voice was an urgent whisper, not daring to let you speak again, to let you try and steer him away.

“Of all people,” you mumbled, a small smile finding your lips. Seokmin smiled too.

“So.. I’m tired of hearing you talk about yourself like this. I’m tired of Vernon being the one keeping us apart. I want- I want you to know that Vernon would understand.”

You shook your head dismissively. He wouldn’t.

“I know him too! You know? Maybe better than you,” he pouted a little, and it made you laugh, and everything was becoming lighter, and for better or worse you really did want to jump into his arms again. “He shouldn’t be the thing stopping you from dating me- or- or anyone, really. But especially me.”

You giggled again, and Seokmin’s heart palpitated in his chest at that sound - and at being the source of it. Then the laughter trailed off and your smile tightened and your heart tightened: “I just don’t want to sneak around-”

“Okay! Say no more!” Seokmin interrupted, hand held out as if to calm a mighty beast. He casually pulled out his phone, tongue in his cheek, as he called your brother. Vernon.

It rang for a few seconds, put on speaker. You couldn’t help the nervousness. Couldn’t help the pinch in your nerves, building up from your stomach and into your heart. Then he answered.

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Vernon’s voice glitched on the other end of the line, utterly oblivious (as always). Seokmin spoke, hand on his hip: “Hey, just curious, how would you feel if me and your sister started dating?”

There was a moment of silence. On Vernon’s end, you imagined it was simply puzzled, but on your end, you stood with your heart all big and floaty, like a balloon in your hand, waiting for him to say that he’d hate it, that he’d kill him, and pop your heart with a simple word to prick. That wasn’t what he said though. Vernon said:

“I mean, yeah, man, I’d prefer you over any of those other college douchebags. I at least know you’d take care of her for real, man, not like that Jeonghan guy you were going on about.”

Your heart balloon took off, and the boundary between you and Seokmin filled itself with sand. Had it been imaginary? This whole time? You couldn’t help the wheeze you left you, overwhelmed with relief and joy.

“I know, man, Jeonghan’s the worst,” Seokmin said casually, but he was grinning from ear to ear at your reaction. You’d buckled over in silent laughter, unable to contain the glee. It seemed to dramatic now

“The worst,” Vernon repeated. Then he pursed his lips and spoke again: “So you’re dating my sister?”

“Uh, you know, I think we’re making it official in a second, yeah,” Seokmin said and even Vernon could hear the smile in his voice.

“Cool, man, yeah, I kind of figured, she facetimed me with your ugly ass bed sheets in the background, and I thought, no way, a girl would buy those bed sheets.”

“Lay off my sheets, man.”

Both of the men laughed and you did too, crying laughing and covering your mouth to contain. Your chest was fluttering with butterflies and light and love.

“Hey, man, for real, if you hurt her, I know where you live, bro,” Vernon was suddenly serious.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, man,” Seokmin responded, equally as serious now. He eyed you, then spoke into the phone again: “Hey, I gotta go make sweet love to your sister.”

“Ew, dude, don’t say tha-”

And the phone was hung up and Seokmin was laughing with you, eyes crescent and smile wide and toothy, and cheeks all red and shiny, he doubled over and took your hands in his. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“Shut up, Lee,” you said, pulling him by the hand and letting him kiss you. Letting yourself kiss him. Letting yourself back into his arms, and this time Seokmin had crossed the border, and had fallen into you, and you stood there together and you were in love.

So, so in love, your lips entangled and danced together, and your hands dragged up the back of his neck and his up your waist.

And you realized, his tongue in your mouth, this was how you preferred to remember Seokmin; completely and utterly in love with you, and dancing with you in your room, and smiling into the kiss, and hands running up your body. You preferred to remember him as yours, and yourself as his.

Seokmin guided you to your bed, pulling your body into his lap. Then he pulled away, completely out of breath, and smiling at you like a twinkling star.

“Think we can finally break open that condom now?”

“Fuck yes,” you said.

And then you did.

#dk x reader #svt dk x reader #lee dokyeom x reader #lee seokmin x reader #seokmin x reader #dk smut #seokmin smut #dokyeom smut #lee seokmin smut #lee dokyeom smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt angst #seventeen angst

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depravitycentral · 9 months

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Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku NSFW Profile

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, dub-con, breeding, non-consensual touching, dry humping, masturbation, panty sniffing, a brief mention about virginity being sacred but no explicit mention of whether reader is a virgin or not, Kyojuro is a virgin tho so corruption kink kind of, pillow humping, coercion, allusions to lactation kink and pregnancy kink, choking, spitting, Kyo gets sex advice from Tengen, Kyo picks you up at one point but remember he's literally a Hashira and could pick anyone up no matter their weight, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS:

In general, Kyojuro isn’t an incessantly horny man. Not only does he hold women in a high respect and doesn’t inherently sexualize them, but to be quite honest he simply doesn’t have time to be regularly indulging in sex or even masturbation. He’s a busy man, and when others are settled under their covers, either sleeping or moaning in another’s ear, he’s out in the dark, dangerous night hunting demons.

And so despite being in the sexual prime of his life, Kyojuro doesn’t have a huge amount of experience. He’s never considered actually touching a woman before, mostly because he didn’t feel the urge to and because he firmly believes in the idea of saving himself for his wife and life partner.

And even once you step into his life he doesn’t magically become some sex-crazed monster – eventually he is, sure, but it’s gradual. It takes a while to reach that stage, for him to both desire you enough and desire sex enough to be wasting his time fantasizing about you and your body.

Little seeds will be planted in his mind as the weeks and month pass, his obsession slowly developing and leaving him floundering when small, inappropriate thoughts begin seeping into the edges of his mind.

He’s noticing the way your kimono dips down just a bit one day – your collarbones are pretty, and he can’t help but have a fleeting thought of how soft the skin of your neck and shoulders must be.

(He’ll return home that night and try to forget that thought, going through an even more extensive training regime than normal, but even by the end of the some four hour session, he’s still imagining how the skin of your collarbones must taste.)

He’s suddenly noticing that your voice gets higher when you get flustered, the pitch raising just slightly, enough for him to notice and mentally file away for future reference.

(Would your voice get higher if he were to fluster you? How would you sound when he’s just kissed you, your lips swollen and your eyes dazed? How would you sound when he’s touching you, his hands settling at your waist or cupping your breasts, or perhaps even slowly, carefully dipping his fingers inside of you, feeling you tighten up and clench down and gasp and writhe and moan his name - )

He becomes acutely aware of the way you always seem to bend over to pick things up, your clumsiness coming into play as he finds himself unconsciously moving to stand so that he has an unobstructed view as you bend over, his eyes blatantly fixed on the curve of your ass, his lips slightly parted.

(He’s definitely thinking of that image later that night, one of his rare nights off, with his hand wrapped deathly tight around his cock as he imagines you bending over for him - perhaps over his dining table, or maybe even over his knee as he gropes and squeezes and plays with you.)

The thoughts feel largely out of place initially, more often than not leaving him slightly dazed and confused because he’s never thought about how soft and smooth a woman’s thighs must be, nor about how your hands feel so small in comparison to his: less calloused and rough and warmer.

It’s strange, but as his delusions grow deeper and his feelings for you only intensify, Kyojuro finds himself rationalizing that it isn’t so disrespectful to be thinking this way – you’re practically already courting, and while you may not yet possess the Rengoku name, you will soon enough.

And once you’re wed?

Well, surely you must know what married couples do – pleasuring one another, loving one another, spending hours tangled in the sheets with gasps and cries ringing through their ears, sweat and kisses and cum covering every inch of their bodies. And if that’s your future – which he’s positive it is – then what’s the harm in imagining it?

He imagines all sorts of domestic scenarios with you, so why should it matter if the clothing is removed and your pretty smile is replaced with a pretty moan?

It’s fine – and so, while he still doesn’t wring himself dry to you every day, he’s sure to settle down and explicitly imagine being with you in an intimate way at least three times a week – even if that means unzipping the pants of his uniform with a demon’s blood still staining his hands, freshly killed and sending adrenaline through his veins.

(Adrenaline that then gets channeled into imagining the way you’d be so proud of him for outsmarting the demon and successfully eliminating it – perhaps you’d be so proud that you’d be willing to get on your knees for him, your soft lips wrapping around him and sucking, your little moans making his head spin and your nimble fingers kneading and groping at his balls. Ah yes, what a lovely thought…)

So while he’s not the most horny yandere of his comrades, he’s certainly no saint. But really, how could he be when you’re so damn alluring?

When it comes to actually touching himself, Kyojuro finds that his pleasure comes easiest when he’s actually doing the work, actually putting effort into getting himself off. It feels okay to simply pump his fist up and down, but it’s not enough – because being with you would be so much more overwhelming, even just your body heat alone making the experience ten times more powerful, more intense, more enjoyable.

He wants to immerse himself in the fantasy of actually having your soft body to kiss and touch and love, and he finds the best way to really achieve this is to fuck something rather than fucking his fist. But he’s a loyal man, and would sooner end his life than fall into the arms of another woman, even if only for a night.

And so, he compromises by fashioning a pillow – one with a covering of your favorite color, of course – into a substitute for yourself.

And while it feels good to have the pillow at all, Kyojuro finds that even just the simple pillow isn’t enough – it needs more, to be more representative of you, to just be better at convincing him that it’s really your wet, warm cunt he’s sinking into with every thrust rather than the dense plush of the pillow.

And so, with dark ink, he musters up every bit of artistic talent he possesses and carefully, oh so carefully draws in your features as much as he’s able to. He’s certainly no artist, but he’s slow and methodical with bringing to life this poor stand in for your own body – paying attention to every small detail, wanting everything to be as life-like as possible.

Your eyes are drawn on, correct down to the shape, even going so far as to try and ink on every eyelash, the flecks of color in your irises, any eye bags or wrinkles you may have.

He’s drawing your nose, the outline of jaw and neck, and, of course, your lips. He’s drawn them so that they’re permanently parted, leaving you looking like you’re gasping in pleasure, even going so far as to try and shade them so that they appear to be wet.

(Presumably with spit, or perhaps something a bit thicker, a bit hotter – it depends on the fantasy.)

The drawings continue down your body, making sure to outline your neck and shoulders, even down to your hands and fingers. (One hand is drawn with all your fingers curled and your thumb touching your index finger, so that a circular hole is made.)

He’s drawn your breasts, nipples, the swell of your tummy, your hips and thighs, even your calves and the arch of your ankles.

(He’s drawn you so that your thighs are spread slightly, giving him a view into what lies between – he’s not entirely sure of the technicalities of female anatomy, so he’s negating drawing any specifics and instead simply leaving the area blank, not willing to misrepresent your lovely, gorgeous figure – that’d feel disrespectful to you, as if the fact that he’s essentially created a sex doll in your image isn’t. He’s seen enough mothers breastfeeding children to have an idea of the upper half of a woman’s body, but he still shivers in excitement at learning how your upper body looks – though he thinks he has a good idea based upon how your clothing fits you, his eyes greedily observing the way the material is taut around your chest.)

Once everything is drawn, it’s easy to tear holes in the pillow – one between your legs, one in the curled circle of your hand, one between your pretty, parted lips.

Once he’s completed his work he'll eagerly, gingerly bring the pillow to his bed, gulping excitedly and immediately stripping off his clothing. His cock is already rock hard, swollen and pressing against his lower stomach, the tip a bright red and shining in the firelight of the room, precum soaking the skin.

He’d managed to get a guaranteed night off-duty this evening, which means there won’t be a single interruption. He’ll set the pillow down flat, excitement already licking at his every muscle, the room feeling incredibly hot already. He’s quick to settle himself above the pillow, his weight resting on both knees and his forearm that’s pressed against the ground. His free hand comes up to lightly trace at the drawn-on curve of your jaw, his face mere inches from where he imagines yours to be.

My flame, you are so beautiful… He’ll tell you, tongue flicking out to lick at his lips.

His cock twitches as he leans down to softly press his lips against your drawn ones, the kiss soft and slow and meaningful, the Hashira pouring every ounce of affection he feels for you into the action.

He imagines you kissing back; would you be hesitant, embarrassed and shy? Or would you be just as eager, perhaps wrapping your arms around his neck and running your hands through his hair, maybe even pulling on it, biting his lip and letting him know how badly you need him?

He groans, his eyes closed, lips working harder against the pillow, his tongue coming out to dart against the hole cut out, imagining your own tongue tangling with his. His hand wanders down from your jaw to your breast, fingers groping and squeezing at nothing but cotton, but the motion alone has his hips bucking, cock brushing slightly against the pillow. It makes him hiss, pulling back from the kiss and licking his lips, his eyes already half lidded and dazed.

Forgive me, I can’t wait any longer, I must be inside you.

His voice is breathless, and as he shimmeys upwards slightly, he’s spreading his legs a bit, thighs flexing as he leans back, audible inhaling as he nudges his tip against the hole between your drawn on legs, already smearing precum against the material from just a bit of contact.

His fingers are trembling slightly as he pushes in inch by inch, going slowly just like he would if it was really you, wanting to make sure you adjust to him and he feels good, so that you’ll be ready for him to absolutely ravish you.

He’s groaning as he bottoms out, balls pressed tightly against the pillow, his chest heaving as he stares wildly at your drawn on face. You feel – you feel amazing, my flame, oh –

He presses his forehead against yours as he slowly pulls back, the muscles of his ass and lower back going taut, before sinking in slowly again, an uneven sigh of your name slipping past his lips.

You feel so tight around me, does it feel good? Does it feel good to have me inside you?

Just the phrasing of that makes his head spin, the idea that he’s inside of you (even if he’s really not) making his hips snap to life, his previously slow pace picking up quickly.

He’s panting already, all the breathing control he’s mastered flying out the window because this is different – it’s your body underneath him, your pretty pussy sucking him in over and over and over, your moans ringing in his ears as you cry out his name again and again.

Kyojuro Kyojuro Kyojuro, please it feels so good!

He’s imagining the way you’d moan his name, how your voice would get so breathy, your fingers raking down his back, your legs wrapping around his hips.

He groans your name again, hips snapping into yours hard enough to push the pillow up with every thrust, his mind running wild as he imagines how your breasts would bounce at the force, practically begging to be squeezed and sucked at. A hand comes up and begins groping at nothing again, his thumb brushing over where he’s drawn on your nipple, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as the pleasure begins mounting.

It just feels too damn good – it’s so easy to imagine you below him, crying out his name as he fucks you hard enough to leave you utterly destroyed, your perfect little cunt massaging him in just the right ways.

He’s chanting your name under his breath, his eyes wide and staring down at your inked face, his voice getting faster and more strained as his muscles start clenching, his balls tightening and his hips stuttering and his heart racing because oh god oh fuck oh fuck –

He’s pulling out at the last minute, cum spurting all over the pillowcase, his moans of your name filling the room as his hand quickly tugs, wrist twisting and moving so fast it’s nearly a blur. The pleasure is immense, leaving his toes curling and every hair on his body standing up straight, feeling as if fire is running through his veins.

After the last few sad spurts dribble from his oversensitive, swollen tip, he’s left gasping, swallowing hard and letting a broad grin slip across his face. With still heavy breaths, he pushes back any stray hair from his forehead, the bit of sweat gathered there leaving him sighing. He’s quick to lean down, pressing a soft, long kiss against your drawn-on lips, a whispered I love you murmured against the pillow.

He has to swallow hard as he pulls back, euphoria still swimming in his veins at the intensity of his orgasm. Pleasuring himself to the thought of you is nearly too much - it leaves him breathless, feeling a high that doesn’t fade for hours after, and as he lays down beside the pillow, still stained with cum as he pulls it against his chest, imagining spooning you, he can’t help but shiver.

Because if it feels this good to simply imagine, how would the real you feel?

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your thighs

In general, Kyojuro thinks you’re absolutely beautiful.

He finds you to be the single most attractive woman on Earth, and even if he’s never seen your body in anything more form fitting than a kimono or a slayer uniform, he’s absolutely sure that whatever awaits him beneath the cloth will be heaven, the thing of wet dreams.

And the moment he finally, finally has you bare below him, your pretty skin on display and waiting to be kissed, fondled, marked as his, he finds that he’s not disappointed in any way.

You’re gorgeous – and, naturally, the most gorgeous part of you is your thighs. There’s something about the sight of them that gets him swallowing hard, his eyes growing a bit brighter and wider.

His palms get a bit sweatier when he sees the way they splay out when you sit down, the fat jiggling with every step you take, the way they just look so touchable and squeezable. He nearly has a full body reaction the moment your thighs are out on display, his body temperature rising to extreme heights and his attention straining to stay on you rather than your pretty legs.

Even in settings where soft, loving affection is occurring, he's still eyeing them, appreciating the way you look in his clothing, the simple overshirt you’d put on that morning stopping mid thigh and leaving very little of your upper legs to the imagination.

(You’ll notice the way his fingers slowly creep down from your waist, moving inch by inch until they’re finally laying over the curve of your thigh, idly rubbing and pressing into the warm flesh, marveling at just how soft you are.)

And when you’re both intimate with one another, his enjoyment of your thighs will be more than apparent – he’s always touching them, his hand coming down to squeeze and stay there, almost latching onto you as he throws your leg over his shoulder, his hips never stopping the brutal pace he’s established.

Every position he fucks you in involves your thighs somehow – he’s forcing you to wrap them around his hips when he's hovering above you and pressing down on you so tightly you’re only able to breath in him.

When he’s folded you into the deepest mating press possible, he’s holding you in position by pressing directly against the back of your thighs rather than your knees, often leaving fingertip shaped bruises there from the sheer force and strength he has to keep at bay every time he slips inside you.

Even when he’s fucking you from behind, your pretty ass on display as he sinks so deeply into you that it drives him crazy, he’s making sure to line his own thighs up to press against yours, relishing in the way his balls clap against your clit and the soft, plush fat of your upper inner thighs.

He’s paying extra attention to nip and tease you when he’s got his head between your legs, sucking hickeys and pressing kisses against your inner thighs as he slowly trails up from the inside of your knees.

He wants you to cage in his head when you’re nearing your orgasm, to squeeze as tightly as possible while he licks and moans and thrusts his tongue into you, the only thing he can see and taste and feel and hear being you you you.

Even when you’ve got your lips wrapped around his cock, his eyes are fixated on the way your thighs look splayed out while you kneel on them, his hips bucking as he zones out slightly, the pleasurable feeling of your mouth making him moan and struggle to maintain his composure.

He just really, really likes that area of your body, and while there’s certainly no part of you that he doesn’t like, his penchant for touching you there and always having a hand on your thigh will be very, very apparent to you.

So if you want to tease him, to see the way his eyes darken a bit and his smile grows a bit sinister, sit down with your legs slightly spread, stare at him with those pretty, pouty eyes of yours, and tell him that you’ve been feeling sore, will you please give me a massage, Kyo? I miss your touch…

You’ll have trouble walking the next day, and the littering of bruises, hickeys, and bite marks against your thighs will serve as proud trophies for Kyojuro, who will insist you not cover them up.

His mouth

In the context of sex, Kyojuro lives to please. He’s being completely honest when he firmly tells you that your pleasure is his, because he really does feel that way.

When you touch him it makes his head spin and his hips involuntarily buck, but when he touches you?

Well, more often than not he’s coming alongside you when he’s fingering you, that telltale groan of o-oh and the wet warmth you’ll feel against your skin letting you know exactly how watching you fall apart is affecting him. And similarly, he gets very, very into it when he’s got his mouth working at you, his talented tongue drawing tight circles over your clit and his hair tickling the inside of your thighs.

Every sexual encounter with Kyojuro will involve him eating you out in some capacity, both because he wants you to feel good, and also because he genuinely enjoys the taste of you and the feel of you against his tongue.

And he’s good at it too – he starts off slow, teasing you with playful nipping and smiles against your skin, his eyes looking up at you the whole time, forcing you to keep eye contact because he wants you to see how he pleasures you, for you to see how right he looks between your legs.

He’ll ghost around where you really need him for a while, making sure to pepper kisses at the juncture between your pelvis and thigh, the area right above your clit, even your lower tummy and hips.

He’ll kitten lick at your folds, humming against your skin and letting the vibrations send shivers up your spine, his tongue dipping just a bit deeper each time, until he’s using his thumbs to physically spread your lips, lewd slurping noises filling your ears as he licks and sucks, pleasure making you sigh his name.

After he’s sufficiently teases you, he’ll press a few more kisses to your thigh, then move upwards, still staring you in the eyes, before licking his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

He’ll tell you that he loves your body, my flame, especially this special spot that always makes you moan my name, before flicking his tongue along it, enjoying the way you jerk at the acute stimulation.

He’s perfected the art of keeping a steady, consistent pattern against you, making sure that the rhythm can let the pleasure build, a dull warmth spreading through your entire lower body.

Meanwhile, he’ll always slip a finger inside of you, curling and pressing against areas he knows you like, feeling the way your thighs twitch and your moans get louder.

He likes when you run your hands through his hair as he uses his mouth on you, especially if you lightly tug or pull; the pleasure tinged with slight pain makes him blindly hump at whatever is closest to him.

And he’ll always, always keep going until you’ve reached your high, even if that means spending hours between your legs; anything to feel the way your cunt flutters against his lips, how you gasp and practically wail his name, your thighs seizing up and your slick coating his chin and lips.

His eyes close as he eagerly laps it up, addicted to your taste – and as he pulls back, his lower face glistening with your arousal and spit, he’ll kiss you, pulling you into a passionate, tongue-heavy kiss.

Even outside of going down on you, Kyojuro finds ways to utilize his mouth in regards to you in every situation he can – he’s always pressing kisses against your lips, cheek, forehead, neck, and knuckles, liking the way that it flusters you and leaves you biting your lip.

He’s taking your hand in his and pressing kisses against your fingertips, singing your praises between presses of his lips, until he’s eventually slipping a finger into his mouth, holding your gaze as he sucks and runs his tongue up and down your skin, the intensity of the moment making you simultaneously aroused and uncomfortable.

He’ll even go so far as to share your toothbrush, just because he likes the idea of a little bit of him being in a little bit of you.

(You’re very aware of this, even without the whole toothbrush misfortune – his penchant for always, always finishing inside of you makes this abundantly clear.)

DRIVE:

Despite Kyojuro’s delusions about your relationship and how you feel for him, even he can’t misread the way you react so negatively to his mentions of being sexual with you. You always freeze up, eyes going wide, your head shaking no and your voice hurried as you tell him please, please no Kyojuro, I’m not – I’m not ready for that, please don’t!

He’ll respect that, firmly nodding and tell you to not worry, my love, I can wait for as long as it takes!

He doesn’t really understand it, however, because in his mind there really shouldn’t be a reason why you aren’t ready – you’re his, and you know it.

You’re living together (even if that wasn’t your choice) and you share a bed together when he’s home. You bath together (something that Kyojuro enjoys very, very much, his hands always wandering, his breath hot in your ear as he tells you that you’re beautiful, something hard pressing against you when he’s washing your hair), share a toothbrush, eat together and wear his clothing – you’re a couple, a partnership between a man and a woman, and wanting to express your love physically is a natural urge.

It’s normal and healthy, and something he wants so, so very badly to do with you. But he understands that perhaps you’re not comfortable with that level of intimacy quite yet – he’s aware of how society views women who’ve lost their virginity (he’d never explicitly asked you if you’ve touched another person, but he assumes you’ve saved yourself for him as he’s saved himself for you), and although you’d be giving it to the man you’ll spend the rest of your life with, he can respect that you might simply be afraid to lose something you’ve learned is cherished.

He’s disappointed by your rejection of sex, but he means it when he says he’ll wait for you to be ready and won’t force it upon you. That does not, however, mean that Kyojuro will completely abstain from interacting with you sexually. He just can’t help himself – sure, he may not be actively fucking you, but he finds other ways to placate the carnal desires practically begging him to rip off your clothing and press you against him while he makes you moan and writhe and fills you with him him him.

It starts small – he’s kissing you every chance he gets, letting them get longer and deeper, lasting sometimes minutes at a time while small moans and groans slip from his mouth into yours. His hand initially starts at your shoulder when he does this, but as time passes he gets bolder – it moves to your waist, your cheek, your hip, even over your ribcage right below your clothed breast, the edges of his fingers brushing against the underside of the pudge fat as moving up slowly, up until he pulls away from the kiss for air.

When kissing you becomes not enough, he moves to hugging you for longer periods of time, getting tighter and purposefully pressing parts of his body against you. He’s always been touchy, and you’ve been getting hugs for nearly as long as you’ve known him (even before his infatuation formed, back when his feelings for you were strictly platonic – now, though, they’re anything but).

But these hugs are different – he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and forcing you flush with his body, smiling at you with those wide, unsettling eyes while his breathing picks up ever so slightly, his pelvis pressed tightly against your own so that you can feel something – something warm, big, almost feeling like it’s moving against you, like it’s throbbing.

He’ll ask you to give him a pair of your panties when he leaves for missions, smiling so brightly and boyishly when you hesitantly deliver the piece of cloth to his outstretched palm, licking his lips and bringing the garment up to inhale deeply before stuffing it away into one of the many pockets of his Demon Corps uniform, telling you with a laugh to choose a pair that’s been used next time please, my flame.

(You never ask why he wants the underwear while he’s gone, simply because you think you know the answer already, but somehow hearing it from him would be worse, like confirming a truth you desperately wished to be false. Plus, you’re sure he’d tell you in extreme detail exactly how he uses them, too, perhaps even giving you a visual demonstration because he’s just so eager to interact with you, to feel your pretty eyes on him.)

It’s disturbing, but it’s a small comfort to know that he may be pushy and make you uncomfortable but he’ll never truly force you into sex. Kyojuro may be many things, but he’s at least a man of his word – even if he very, very badly wishes he wasn’t sometimes.

And so as wonderful as kissing you deeper and hugging you tighter and fucking his fist to your panties is, Kyojuro eventually decides that he needs more. He needs to get as close to actually fucking you as he can without being inside of you, just as he promised.

And so the perfect solution is really just that simple – running through the motions without violating your wishes. Kyojuro is ecstatic just thinking about – which is why, when the mood strikes him, his cock straining against his trousers and his fingers itching to reach out and touch, he’ll strip off his clothing, smiling at you and running his knuckles against your cheek while telling you to take your clothing off please, love, I want to make you feel good.

And really, as much as you don’t want to, it’s easier on both of you if you just do – your options are let him hump you like a dog, or be forced to touch him, your own hand wrapped around his cock as he moans and sighs and thrusts into your hand while telling you how good you look. And so, once your clothing is off, Kyojuro will look at you with those eyes, licking his lips slowly and walking up to you, pressing himself against you again and letting his hands sit firmly at your waist.

My flame, he’ll murmur to you, his voice low and his breath a bit hitched because his cock is pressed up against your thigh and god, even that touch alone is enough to make his knees feel weak. Lay down for me.

He’ll have you lay on your back, your legs spread for him and your arms over your head. He’ll stand for a while, simply staring at you, the sight of you in such a provocative position making his cheeks tinge pink and his throat feel a bit dry. But soon there’s too much precum dribbling from his tip to ignore, and he’ll climb over you, hovering over you and wrapping your leg around his waist, so that his face is mere inches from yours and his cock is pressed against your navel.

He’ll swallow, leaning down a bit to press his lips against yours, relishing in the warmth of your body pressed against his own. Kisses are pressed against the corner of your mouth, then down the length of your jaw, down your neck and finally to your shoulder, the movements slow and meaningful despite the near painful aching between his legs. His hips seem to move on their own, slowly rocking forward and backwards, the friction of his cock rubbing against your skin and against the tufts of hair making him hiss slightly.

His lips find purchase at your ear, deep sighs and heavy pants impossible to ignore as he slowly picks up his pace. The stimulation feels good, but it’s not enough for him - he has to move faster, harder, be better, because this is really a chance for him to show you exactly what you’re missing out on. This is his opportunity to show you that if he were to do this inside of you, it would feel so much better for you – it’s his opportunity to convince you that sex with him would feel good, that you’d be satisfied, that he could please you.

And he commits to that desire – one forearm is pressed against the bed right beside your head supporting his weight while the other wanders from your waist up to grope and squeeze at your breast, deft fingers pinching and rolling your nipple between them. He’ll groan your name, leaning down to lick at your lips and tell you that you’re so very beautiful, his voice strained. He’ll bring the hand down to ghost over your stomach, right above where his cock is grinding and thrusting, moving to bury his nose against your neck while he chants your name. His voice is a bit slurred, the pleasure making his brows draw tightly together, his hips snapping and flexing harder and harder.

He’s close, and he tells you as much – muffled against your neck, his low groan of f-feels too good, you feel so good love…

With his orgasm approaching, he resorts to kissing your neck again, his hair tickling you and the feeling of his cock dragging against your skin over and over making your toes curl involuntarily, because even as humiliating and uncomfortable as this is, isn’t there something oddly sexy about this big, strong man making himself a fool on you, losing him mind from just the feel of you?

He’s desperate for the pleasure he’s right on the brink of as he blindly reaches out to find your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours tightly, the moan that rises in the back of his throat high and uneven and raw. His whole body shakes as something warm and thick spurts against your stomach, a few drops landing on the undersides of your breasts, his breath heavy in your ear as he slowly, oh so slowly thrusts, riding out the last waves of his pleasure.

His hand is still gripping yours, and after a moment he pulls back and kisses you again, his tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and insistent, the red on his cheeks even more pronounced now.

It’s still not ideal, grinding and humping against you like this, but Kyojuro is content to do it as many times as it takes until you finally, finally feel ready to let him love you like you deserve, to let him make you gasp and cry out his name and gush around him until you’re too incoherent to even think.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

Kyojuro is very vocal in bed. He’s constantly talking to you – telling you how good you feel, telling you when something in particular feels best, warning you when his orgasm is dangerously near, just producing a constant stream of commentary as he fucks you. His voice is breathy the whole time, always turned up at the ends of his sentences because the pleasure is too strong, forcing him to slur his words together because fuck you feel good.

A lot of his vocalness stems from the fact that he’s just so excited to be intimate with you – he’s been fantasizing about this for a long time, long nights spent with his eyes closed and his cheeks a bit pink,

imagining the way you’d look underneath the pretty kimonos and clothing you wear.

He’s imagined what your face would look like when he’s cupping your breasts, thumbing at your nipples and making your brows twitch, biting your lip as you tell him to squeeze just a hair harder, pressing yourself against him because having his hands on you feel too good.

He’s imagined how your thighs would tremble when he’s got two fingers buried in your cunt, curling and scissoring and rubbing against your sensitive walls while you curl your toes and whine his name.

He’s even imagined the way your pussy would feel as he’s fucking you, how it would clench down on him hard, practically begging him to stay inside, begging for every last drop of cum he can possibly give.

He’s fantasized and daydreamed and imagined for months on end, each scenario only making him more anxious to finally have his hands on you, the buildup to actual intimacy with you leaving him wildly excited. And so, now that you’re finally with him, your perfect body warm and soft to the touch just as he knew you’d be, Kyojuro can’t help himself from telling you every little thing he’s thinking and feeling. He’s rambling on about how pretty you look when you’re underneath him, your body spread out for him and completely bare.

He’ll smile at you and kiss at every available inch of skin as his hands squeeze and knead at your sides, leaning back to admire the view of a flustered, bashful you underneath him all with a dreamy sigh and a small you’re so perfect, my flame, exactly as I imagined you’d be. And really, it would be sweet if it weren’t for the way he continues on to tell you exactly what he’d imagined, explicit details about how he'd fucked to his fist to the thought of you writhing below him, what pace he’d used, how he’d tightened up his grip to simulate how tight you’d grip him, even going so far as to tell you that this particular fantasy had him producing much more cum than normal when he eventually came.

It’s too much information and will leave you feeling disturbed and a bit scared, but Kyojuro doesn’t seem to notice – he’s too deeply enthralled with the pleasure you’re giving him, the words seeing to slip off his tongue without him even realizing it as he thrusts into you with an almost inhuman speed.

But of course, even as lovely as it is to detail all of the fantasies he’s had of you, what you’ll most often get with him is praise. He generally thinks that you’re enchanting, viewing you as something perfect and lovely and so, so very wonderful, but when he’s intimate with you this perception of you only intensifies.

Every small burst of pleasure you give him only solidifies his infatuation with you, and he can’t stop himself from telling you how beautiful you look on your knees for him, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock and your eyes prickling with tears because he’s too big for you to take down your throat. He’ll just smile, hand cupping the back of your hand and slowly easing you down his length, biting his lip at the sight and sighing out that you’re doing so well, you feel so – so good, yes love oh, suck just like that, it feels amazing when you do that.

He’ll have you perched on his lap, tits bouncing in his face while his hands clutch at your hips and move you up and down his cock, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and a moan of your name falling past his lips, small chants of yes yes yes and gasps of your name filling the air between you.

He’ll lick and suck at your clit with his head buried between your thighs, a lithe finger working in and out of you as he moans appreciatively against you, your taste on his tongue forcing him to pull back a moment to lick a long, flat stripe against your folds, his chin and lips visibly glistening as you tells you that you taste so delicious, I can’t get enough of you, give me more please my flame, I need more of you.

And when you’re gushing around his fingers a few minutes later, desperately grabbing at the pillow under your head and his hair, Kyojuro can only brokenly groan, his own orgasm not far behind yours as he thrusts his hips against the floor. You’re just so pretty and perfect and wonderful, and how can he not tell you?

And after he’s emptied himself inside of you, he’ll curl you into his arms and hold you, breathing into your ear and telling you how good you did, how you did so well and made him feel so good. Kisses are pressed against the crown of your head while he does this, his compliments sounding so genuine and reverent that you’ll be equal parts flattered and uncomfortable because god, he really means it when he says you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, doesn’t he?

Kyojuro of course loves to be praised in turn – any positive comment from you is met with eager and wide eyes, his ministrations and motions only increasing, his desperation to please you and make you feel good nearly palpable. Your moans of his name and cries of yes and right there and please making something smug and warm swell in his chest, his obsession only deepening because you just look so right when you’re falling apart on his cock.

He lives to please you, so please praise him – he’ll return the favor with so much passion and vigor that you’ll almost be embarrassed for him at how high and whiny and lewd the groan he lets out when he spills inside you is.

Almost, because he’ll follow it up with heavy breaths and a stuttered that – that was for you, because of you, because you feel so fucking good.

Oral Fixation

There’s something about the taste of you that he simply can’t get enough of. Even before he stole you away, Kyojuro was quick to snatch any small item of yours that could potentially taste like you.

He managed to snag the small vial of lip balm he’s seen you use – the one that his eyes always get stuck on, watching the way you pucker and pop your lips, the smacking noises obscene and provocative and sexy. You’d left it on the table after a lunch he’d invited you to, and Kyojuro – ever the gentleman – had pocketed it with the intention to return it to you later. Only, he didn’t – it stayed in his pocket until later that night when he’d fished it out, carefully opened it, and pressed the nearly empty balm against his own lips, closing his eyes and sighing because oh, if he licks his lips now he’ll taste you…

He’s got a cloth he keeps in his pocket that’s reserved specifically for you – when you’re eating with him, going on outgoings that are strictly platonic to you but are anything but to him, he’ll use the cloth and wipe off bits of food sitting on your lips, some stray sauce on the corner of your mouth. The cloth is kept in his pocket until later, when his cock is bright red and swollen and drooling precum for you, his lip caught between his teeth as he uses the cloth to tug and twist at his sensitive head, the friction of the cotton against his skin making him shiver and writhe and curl his toes all the while your name falls from his lips.

And once he’s done, he’s quick to bring the cloth up to his mouth, tongue lolling against the material as he tastes his cum and you mixed together, a flavor that gets the last sad little spurt of cum oozing from his swollen tip, the sensation making him groan lowly.

Really, he just likes the taste of you – and once your physical relationship begins, this penchant he has for tasting you only increases.

Now, he doesn’t have to be sneaky – no longer does he have to rely on placing your used utensils in his mouth in order to get even the slightest bit of you on his tongue.

Now he can just wrap an arm around your waist and press you close, mouth dipping down to slot his lips against yours, a moan muffled against your mouth because god, you’re so sweet and warm and he wants to drink in everything you can give him.

(Yes you’ve watched him kiss you and pull back, swallowing and licking his lips, telling you that your spit tastes delicious, my flame, please give me more before diving back in, kissing you and sucking on your tongue so hard you can practically feel his desperation.)

Now he can press kisses against your neck and jawline, tongue lathing up and down your collarbones while he licks and sucks, the dark bruising making his eyes light up and his breathing a bit uneven.

(Normally Kyojuro is strictly against harming you, but there’s something about hickeys that makes him sway ever so slightly on this rule. Perhaps it’s because he’s the cause of the dull pain, or maybe it’s because every time he’s working at your neck and shoulders you always let out these little whines that go straight to his cock, your fingers gripping tighter at his hair. Sometimes, when he’s particularly pent up and desperate for you, he swears he can even feel your cunt throbbing through the layers of clothing separating you, as if you’re just as needy and frantic for him as he is you. Ah, what a lovely thought.)

Now he can just gently press you against the wall, getting to his knees and throwing your leg over his shoulder while he pushing the pretty robe he’d bought you up to your hips, exposing the skimpy panties he'd bought for you as a present.

(They’re red, of course, with pretty lace details around the edges and a little bow at the very top, almost as if you’re a present for him to open and play with. He’d bought them for you before he’d stolen you away, gifted them to you with a bright smile and not an ounce of shame, and had insisted you wear them despite your discomfort after noticing an odd stain on them – one that left a dark spot that Kyojuro refused to explain, only laughing and pressing a kiss to your cheek when asked.)

He’ll lick over your clothed cunt, humming against you and chuckling when you squirm at the vibrations. He’s suckling at your clit over the cloth, those eyes of his staring up at you from between your legs, the taste of you strong and making his mind spin even before he’s actually touching you.

But soon, Kyojuro can’t settle for just your phantom taste – he needs more, needs you, and so he’s suddenly standing up, picking you up with no effort and settling you down onto the bed, immediately laying between your legs. He’s spreading your thighs and licking his lips, rolling your panties down and off your legs before absolutely devouring you – he’s licking and sucking loudly enough to make lewd, wet suction noises fill the room.

There’s wet schluck-schluck noises ringing in your ears as he pushes a finger inside, all the way down to his second knuckle and curling them, the pads of his fingers brushing against the spot that gets you moaning and your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. All the while he’s playing with your clit, tongue tracing shapes and spelling his name, humming and moaning and sucking at you like a man starved. His stamina is high, and he’s keeping up the pace until you’re clutching at his hair and moaning his name like a prayer, the pleasure making you writhe and gasp and gush all over his fingers and chin.

But once Kyojuro gets a taste of you, he’s not simply satisfied with just one orgasm – he needs more, to feel you clenching down on his fingers and your clit throbbing as he fucks you through the high.

He’ll simply laugh at your whines of too sensitive, I can’t Kyo please, keeping his steady pace and pressing a kiss against your clit that makes your hips jerk.

You can do it, he’ll tell you, slick and your cum smeared all across his lips, chin and cheeks. You can give me another one, let me make you feel good, my flame.

And even while he’s fucking you his fixation doesn’t decrease – you feel like heaven around his cock, sure, with your warm, soft walls clenching down on him and your slick coating his thighs, but that doesn’t stop his fingers from snaking up and pressing against your lips.

He'll push them inside two at a time, hot breaths against your ear telling you to suck, ngh suck for me, his hips snapping into you with more fervor as he feels your lips close around him, throat tightening and your little gagging noises as he thrusts his fingers in and out.

You’re just so beautiful, and although his fixation mostly manifests as him using his mouth on you, he certainly won’t deny you if you were to flip the script. You get on your knees for him, licking your lips and pawing at his cock over his pants?

The pants are off faster than you can blink, his hand already at the back of your head and guiding you down his length, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lets out a low groan of yes, o-oh, you’re so warm, I’ve been thinking of this all day-!

He won’t deny you when you press kisses against his exposed chest, your tongue tracing around his sensitive nipple and feeling the skin pebble, even grazing your teeth against the sensitive skin just to hear his breath hitch and the audible gulp that follows.

He just thinks the ultimate form of intimacy is to taste each other, and Kyojuro is always eager to get closer to you, and to prove just how much he loves you – and, of course, just how depraved you make him.

Breeding

Kyojuro will get you pregnant. It’s not even a matter of discussion as far as he’s concerned – yes, it’s a sexual fantasy for him to stuff you so full of his cum that you’re literally leaking it, but it’s more than that. He genuinely wants to build a family with you, to have you as his sweet little housewife that he dotes on and provides for and cares for, and to complete the fantasy he needs a few children running around.

He gets this dopey grin and blushing cheeks when he imagines you with a toddler clutching at your leg and a baby nursing at your breast, something inside his chest swelling with pride and happiness. And so, every time he fucks you he will be finishing inside, stuffing you as full as he physically can.

The image of you pregnant gets his breathing shallow; something about seeing you round, your breasts swollen and nipples so sensitive you sharply gasp when he so much as brushes against them making him shift his pants, his skin feeling hot and clammy. He likes the idea of knocking you up so that you’re completely, utterly dependent on him for every little thing – you’ll be so sweet and lovely and incapable, allowing him to attend to your every need. You’ll need him to walk any significant distance, to reach things on high shelves, to help you get up and out of chairs, to help with anything, really, and Kyojuro is more than happy to aid you in your time of need.

But even outside of actually getting you pregnant, the kink also satisfies some of his more shameful needs, some of his more masculine and carnal needs. After all, breeding you means coming inside you, filling you to the brim with his cum, something only he can provide you.

There’s just something about the idea of leaving you full with something so utterly him that gets him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching eagerly because just the thought makes him desperate to get his hands on you. He's not too terribly possessive, all things considered, but something about the idea of his cum settling inside you just feels right in a way he can’t describe, almost as if you were made to take it. As if you were made to take him, really, if the way your perfect little pussy sucks him in so well is any indication.

Besides, every time he finishes inside he’ll pull back and just stare, watching with bright eyes at the way his cum slowly dribbles out of you, white staining against the curve of your ass, his fingers coming up to scoop up the leaking bits and stuff them back inside you.

(And he will finish inside every time he fucks you, and even when your fist is wrapped around his girth or your lips are pressed against his base, tip making you gag at how deep he is in your throat. He’ll warn you with a near-yell of ‘m close before pushing you down and spreading your legs so quickly that it knocks the breath out of you, nestling his tip just inside you and coming, the sheer volume and force of the spurts making you squirm because you can feel it.)

There’s lots of talk about how you mustn’t waste anything he gives you, how you must keep every last drop inside you, his voice strained and breathy as he groans that into your ear, a thrust punctuating each word and making you clutch onto him for dear life because he’s fucking you meanly, every clap of his hips against yours making you physically scoot up until you reach the edge of the bed.

There’s something about the idea of stuffing you full of his cum that makes Kyojuro near feral, his hips seeming to have a mind of their own as they snap and pound against you, his cock pushing deeper and deeper and deeper, tip nestling further inside you with every thrust.

While he’s fucking you, the only thing running through his mind (aside from the constant stream of compliments towards you and the indescribable feeling of how fucking warm you are) is a mantra of needing to get deeper, to go as far inside you as he can, to press right up against your womb so that when his abs flex and his pace stutters, a shallow gasp and low groan rolling past his lips, his cum can shoot directly where it needs to go. It can spurt and splatter and flood your cute little pussy, each twitch of his cock giving you more and more and more, until it’s literally leaking out of you, even while he’s still stuffed inside you.

And Kyojuro, ever the talkative lover, is more than happy to narrate the process – his orgasms always follow a rather wanton groan of your name, his voice strained and uneven as he tells you to take it, o-oh take it take it take it, take every fucking drop ngh yes yes yes!

He’ll press down on your stomach as he finishes, the sensation making you impossibly tighter, the motion forcing his cum to shoot even deeper into you, his eyes wide in wonder and lust as if he can see the way his cock is twitching and throbbing, pushing out everything it can give you.

His voice nearly awed as he asks if you feel that, my love? I’m breeding this lovely pussy, does it feel good? It’s feels likes heaven for me, and soon you’ll be rounded and glowing and carrying my child.

He’ll pause to press a kiss against your nipple, tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin, before cupping it with his hand and squeezing, his own voice turning a bit darker as he tells you that soon your breasts will be so swollen and heavy, you’ll be feeding our child, nursing our baby…

He sucks at your nipple, hard. I’m sure you’ll taste divine – you’ll give me a taste too, I’m sure.

He’ll run his hand along your stomach, sucking in a sharp breath and telling you that you’ll be full soon, that you’ll be swollen and big and his, your body proving to him exactly who you belong to, exactly who kisses you and fucks you and gives you what your body is made for.

He just really, really wants a family with you, so don’t be surprised when he forces you to lay by his side for hours after sex, his cock keeping you stuffed full, not allowing a single drop of cum to leak out, his hand pressed firmly against your stomach as he rambles on and on about baby names and how he’ll be there for the entire birth, how he hopes the baby has his hair and your personality, how he’ll protect the both of you from demons until his dying breath.

It would be sweet, really, if he wasn’t so insistent, if he didn’t have twenty names already picked out for you to choose from, if he wasn’t telling you that according to Shinobu the part of your cycle you’re currently in is your highest window of fertility, if he wasn’t clutching onto you and saying when you’re pregnant instead of if.

And when his cock slowly hardens once more inside of you, you’ll feel the palpable change in the air as he kisses your neck again, his hips slowly starting to move as he tells you that he has to make sure it took, I have to make sure you’re carrying my child… Open your legs for me, my flame, let me give you more of me.

And when he comes with a gasp of your name a few minutes later, even more cum flooding you and sending some dripping down over his cock and onto his pelvis, Kyojuro can only lick his lips, the sight of you with a rounded belly and swollen breasts making him near feral.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Marking

While Kyojuro isn’t the most possessive, there’s something about the idea of physically marking you as his that gets his blood rushing, heat blooming on his cheeks, a wide grin splitting across his face.

Just the thought get him eagerly pulling you closer, nudging his nose against your neck, sighing heavily and letting you feel the way his pants slowly grow tighter, his breathing growing heavier as he groans your name.

There’s just something about the idea of claiming you as his own that makes some primal, animalistic part of him light up, so be prepared to be absolutely covered in marks as your sexual relationship progresses.

Hickeys will cover nearly all of your skin, leaving no area untouched by his lips and teeth. He’ll leave love marks (as he calls them) in the shape of a heart situated on the plane of your chest, nestled right up your breasts. As he’s fucking you he’ll kiss over the area again, his hips never slowing their pace as he starts whispering your name under his breath, nearly chanting it with every clap his balls against the curve of your ass.

A ‘K’ and an ‘R’ are placed on your inner thighs, so that when he sits beside you he can reach over and grip the area, sending you a blinding grin and telling you that even under all the layers of clothing he can feel your love. Once the marks fade he’ll spend hours between your legs again, remaking the hickies so there’s a letter per leg, so that every time he spreads them, excitement bubbling in his chest, he’ll see his letters, a mark of ownership, a reminder that you’re his and his alone, that your pretty skin and plush thighs and that lovely little pussy of yours is completely and utterly his.

It’s just fucking hot to Kyojuro, so when he pins you down, your body nude and bared for his eyes, know that he’ll kiss you, lips working eagerly against your own, tongue coaxing yours in an effort to get you to engage, groans and grunts tumbling into your mouth as his hands wander down to grope at your breasts, squeezing your side, toying with the pubic hair settled on your navel.

He’ll kiss you, then let his lips travel down, dipping to your neck to suck harshly against the skin, then down to your collarbone to lick and suckle, then to your nipples to bruise the area beside your areolas, then down your stomach and to your thighs, mumbling praises and sweet words of affirmation as he goes.

You’ll wince and avoid looking at yourself in mirrors after he’s through with you, but just know that Kyojuro does it all out of love.

He doesn’t enjoy hurting you, but the pleasure and pride that swells in his chest when he sees you with his markings outweighs his small worries at your bruising.

Just let it happen, really, because he’ll be getting his way, one way or the other, and while eventually the dull throb and sting as he works section after section will grow slightly painful, at least his fingers are talented – after all, you can handle the hickies when he’s making you gasp his name, cream on his fingers and beg for more, more, more, right?

Choking

While Kyojuro is generally the more dominant partner in bed (regardless of your personal tastes – he likes to feel like your provider, so even if you want to peg him until he’s a sobbing, begging mess, little mewls of your name and p-please, need to come so bad slipping past his lips, you’ll likely be the one trapped below him), there’s a certain allure to letting you take charge for a night every few weeks, letting you take the reigns for a few minutes.

There’s something oddly sexy about watching the way the power slowly goes to your head, how your eyes grow darker, your actions more passionate as you bounce up and down on top of him, your hands planted against his chest, pinching at his nipples, shoving your tongue down his throat all while he groans and enjoys the view.

He just likes to see the way you use him, his body simply a toy for you to get off on. It’s the ultimate form of caring for you – and seeing the way you’re so unabashedly pleasuring yourself gets his blood pumping so hard he can hear it in his ears, the sight of you so raw and natural and not at all the shy little thing you were when he first spread your legs all those months ago making him lick his lips in anticipation.

And yet, there’s a certain habit you’ve developed in these moments that Kyojuro absolutely cannot get enough of – that is, when your soft fingers wrap around his throat, your skin against his, pressing just hard enough to disrupt the blood flow to his brain, the feeling dizzying and disorienting and wonderful.

His eyes literally roll to the back of his head when you do this, your hips snapping and scooping above him as you tell him to hold it in, be a good boy, don’t come yet.

He’s groaning and wildly bucking his hips, face turning slightly red as you lean down to kiss him, your lips harsh and demanding, the kiss rough and forceful.

It’s heaven, Kyojuro thinks, as you clench around him, your fingers following suit, his cock twitching inside of you, his hands coming up to grope and knead at your ass as he bounces you harder and harder, the desire to come inside you suddenly washing over him.

It’s something he finds himself craving as time goes on, and so while he’ll more often prefer to be the one on top, in charge, calling the shots, be prepared for the nights where he wants to let you do all the work.

But really, once you’re straddling him, sinking down onto his drooling, leaking tip and grinding, your hand wrapped around his throat, he’ll often do most of the ‘work’ – desperate, sad little humps up into you with his heels planted against the futon mat that’ll leave you gasping and going limp, his cock reaching parts of you unexplored by your own fingers.

And when you lean down over him, your pretty face just inches away from his own flushed you’re your fingers wrapped around his neck, Kyojuro will eagerly obey when you tell him to open wide, his cock throbbing inside you as your spit lands against his tongue, your taste and the lewd sight of you spitting in his mouth making his orgasm hurtle towards him. As soon as he eagerly swallows his eyes are going wide, his words rushed and slurred and strained as he tells you that it’s so fucking good, oh here it comes, shit it’s coming, it – it’s-!

He just really, really likes the way it feels to have your pretty fingers around such a vulnerable area, so get used to it – because Kyojuro is a passionate man, and as his lover, you must be just as passionate, too.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

As a general rule, Kyojuro is vocal about every sexual desire he has with you. He doesn’t believe in keeping secrets, especially in the context of sex where you could both be benefitting.

He wants to share every explicit, lewd fantasy he has of you simply because he thinks you might enjoy it – you might have even been dreaming of doing the same thing, you were just too shy to tell him.

(He knows how you are – how you’re so very shy, always seeming to skirt away from him when he nears you, your wide-eyed looks you send him when he’s talking to you, how your hands are clammy and you’re shaking ever so slightly when he pulls you in for a kiss with far too much tongue.)

And so, Kyojuro is open and honest; painfully so, really. He wakes up one morning with you in his arms, your eyes already open as he leans in and kisses the shell of your ear, sighing and pressing his navel against your ass, telling you in that husky morning voice of his that he’d dreamed about tasting you until you cry, my flame, doesn’t that sound nice?

(And of course, you’ll not be leaving that bed for hours after the fantasy is spoken out into the air – Kyojuro is nothing if not determined, and his tongue seems to never tire.) After returning home from a mission, he’s announcing to you that he’d passed by a risqué local shop and saw a drawing of a man and a woman where the woman was on top and oh, why didn’t you tell him that women sometimes enjoyed being the more dominant partner?

You’ll be left to flounder, unsure of how to respond, but it’s too late because Kyojuro is already laying down on his back, his pants pulled down to his knees and his expression eager, the smile across his lips blinding as he tells you to come here, my love, the woman in the drawing looked to be enjoying herself, and I want to see that on you as well!

However, because he has no sexual experience before you, he doesn’t harbor any particularly intense fantasies for you. He’s excited and aroused by the simple, straight-forward sex that he knows produces a child – missionary, mostly, or positions that involve spreading your legs and maintaining eye contact while he slides in, a hand cupping your cheek while he groans and tells you in a strained voice that you’re so beautiful, you feel so – ngh, so good!

And so, after a one-off chat with Tengen about wifely matters (he’s announced to the other Hashira that he has a wife, though none of them have met you or know that you aren’t actually his partner, just the woman he considers to be his wife), Kyojuro asks with complete sincerity if his friend has any advice in the bedroom.

Tengen had just laughed and clapped Kyojuro’s back, telling him that sex should be flashy, so don’t do the same things over and over! Mix things up – women love variety, so try some new positions, or a different method of pleasuring her!

When asked what other positions to try, Tengen had grinned, his eyes widening a bit as he said bend her over, she’ll feel you deeper and the view will drive you crazy.

And so, that night after coming home to you, he’d gulped, his eyes narrowing in on your ass, his voice a bit gruff as he told you to come with me, my love, I want to try something new.

“Are you comfortable?” Kyojuro asks, though he sounds distracted.

Swallowing, you nod, embarrassment clear on your face. This position was beyond humiliating – Kyojuro hadn’t explained much when he approached you earlier in the evening, simply looking at you with those unblinking eyes and telling you to get undressed because he had something new he wanted to try out.

And now, here you are, on your hands and knees on your shared bed, clothing neatly folded in a corner of the room. It’s cold, and the air is making goosebumps prickle along your skin and your nipples stiff.

If Kyojuro notices you shiver, he doesn’t say anything – instead, you hear him gulp, the sound suddenly much closer.

“You’re very beautiful…” He whispers, so quiet and unlike him that it makes you glance back over your shoulder. The sight you’re met with makes your embarrassment deepen, a mixture of shame and bashfulness seeping into your every bone.

He’s standing behind you, those wide eyes of his fixated on your exposed cunt, with his cock in hand. Thick fingers wrap around his base, visibly squeezing, his balls periodically twitching even without being touched. He looks entranced – awed, almost, presumably by the sight of your ass presented on display like this.

“Kyojuro…” You start, anxious to just get started so he’ll stop staring at you like you’re something holy and sacred. Wiggling your hips, you hope he’ll get the message.

Instead, you hear a muffled groan and suddenly feel air brushing against your sensitive folds, the sensation making your arms feel a bit weak. You feel a sudden slimy warmth, and wet noises ring in your ears as Kyojuro presses his tongue against you, dipping in briefly to taste and rub at anything he can reach. Heavy breaths are muffled against your cunt, but the insistent press of his chin against your clit makes it difficult to focus.

“Kyo – oh, Kyo please need you to fuck me, don’t tease me.” Your whines make him pause for a moment, before he slowly pulls back, pressing a single long kiss against your folds that has you biting your lip.

“Very well, you’ll have to tell me how it feels, love. Tell me everything you’re feeling.” He asks, gripping his base again and rubbing the tip through your folds, collecting your slick at the tip. His breathing is still loud, the way he’s sucking in air through clenched teeth making it obvious just how strongly the sight of you bent over and exposed like this is affecting him.

You look gorgeous – he’s intimately familiar with what’s between your legs, of course, but this view feels so lewd. He can see your pretty hole clenching every few moments, tufts of hair decorating the pretty sight, and he can even see your other hole, the one you always tell him not to touch with a squeak and a slap of his hand.

Soon he’s swallowing hard and pressing himself inside, the breath sucked out of his lungs because somehow you feel tighter like this, your cunt seeming to suck him in so tightly that it almost hurts, the sensation making his knees buckle slightly.

And you’re certainly not helping, either – as you’d promised him you’re gasping, telling him in an airy voice, “It’s so big – you’re so big, Kyo, fuck you’ve never felt so big, I can’t – you have to wait a second, please, ‘s too much-!”

And he does, with bared teeth and hands that find purchase at your ass, just as Tengen had told him to do. He’s groping at the soft flesh, grabbing handfuls and pulling them apart to get a full view. A whine slips out of him at the lewd sight of his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, the angle letting him see just how you stretch to accommodate him, even seeing the edges of his balls pressed against your thighs. It’s just too much, and as soon as your shaky ‘okay’ registers, Kyojuro’s immediately thrusting.

And the sight of him moving is even more erotic – pulling out of you and seeing the ring of white coating his base makes him lean more of his weight against you, trying to get more leverage as he thrusts back in so that he can fuck you harder, wanting to get impossibly deeper to feel more and more of you. He’s entranced, watching with wide eyes the way he appears and disappears inside of you again and again, almost lost in a trance.

Your noises have him grunting, the desperate whines and rhythmic gasps every time he sinks back into you making his orgasm come creeping up much too quickly. He’s just too overwhelmed, your pretty moans and cries of his name making his head spin.

Soon he’s bringing a leg up and pressing his foot flat against the ground, gaining better leverage and an angle that makes you scream, your cunt squeezing down on him so tightly that he struggles to pull back to just his tip. He’s seen animals do this in the wild – he’s fucking you like an animal would, mounting you and grasping at your waist to pull you back against him harder, anything and everything to get him deeper inside, to reach a part of you that he’s sure no man or even you have touched.

You’re just too damn pretty, and as he gasps your name and clutches onto you tightly enough to leave bruises while ropes of runny cum fill you, Kyojuro decides that he needs to try out all the other positions Tengen had told him about – perhaps he’ll try something called 69 with you tomorrow.

Maybe that’ll get you to scream his name like this ‘Doggy’ has.

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