#show me actual dark skin pls | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

valleyofheartz · 2 months

Text

I Love You, I’m Sorry

University AU

Pairing: Volleyball player!Sakusa Kiyoomi x Artist!F!Reader

angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, FWB to lovers, angst with a happy ending

WC: 9.7k

Synopsis: Falling in love with the pretty volleyball player in your first year of University wasn’t something you intended to happen; it just did. And then, two years later, the line between lust and love blurs. You want him beyond his body, but does he want every side of you? A part of you liked to think so, but Sakusa Kiyoomi is known for crushing hearts, and make no mistake, you were no exception.

Content/Warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, FWB relationship, graphic descriptions of blood/knives/wounds/organs (nothing actually happens), subtle hints of depression/anxiety, jealousy, curse words, one scene with a creep but its vague, pls lmk if I missed anything!

two August’s ago, you fell in love.

you remember laughing till tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks, face hurting from smiling so much. you remember soft touches; on your hand as you reached for the same item, on your waist when you squeezed by, on the corner of your mouth when you don’t seem to notice the crumbs that coat your lips. you remember a gentle smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit as your heart stutters in your chest. you remember dark curly hair, mole kissed skin and eyes brimming with affection.

you remember everything.

bright, giddy, and curious, you entered university with dreams larger than the sun. your passion for art made you yearn. you wanted to draw everything beautiful. you’d sit by the tree near your campus library and draw for hours, music blaring through your headphones as you sketched pretty items, pretty scenery, and pretty people in your book.

it was under the tree you found your muse.

you recall forgetting to bring something to tie your hair with, leaving it to fall in your face when the the wind hit a little too hard. you squinted, frowning as you moved the strands out of your sight.

and then, as if entranced, you see the prettiest student walk towards the library. it’s like everything is suddenly moving slower. he’s clad in a- sports jacket? with your school logo, and black shorts to match. he has a gym bag hung on his right shoulder, but you find yourself more focused on the thick locks on his head and soft slope of his nose. his lips are full, pretty and pink. the slight chill from the air must be the reason why his cheeks are tinted as well, and your hands itch with the urge to draw this mythical being.

(first-year you was a little dramatic, but present you still understands her.)

you draw a rough sketch of him the moment he leaves, but you know had you had more time to look, you would’ve done a much better job.

✾

the second time you see him is at a party.

you had forgotten about the pretty boy as the days went on, more focused with school and handing in assignments. exams arrived, and then you were on break. your friends had begged you to show up, with promises of it being a fun experience even if all you wanted to do was curl up under the covers and sleep all day.

you end up wearing a cute outfit, somewhat revealing yet covering the parts you wanted to. your hair is styled with shiny clips that match your makeup. you feel pretty, and even though you initially did not want to go out, you think this might be a good idea.

“Y/n, let me know if you want to leave early, okay? And don’t drink anything random people offer you.” Kuroo grabs your arm, tone serious. you want to laugh at the usually silly guy being so protective of you.

you smile, “I know, father. No need to worry about me, it’s just my first party.”

Akaashi beside you ruffles your hair, “He has a reason to be worried, you’re a little too sweet for your own good.”

you scrunch up your nose, mentally disagreeing. you could certainly be mean. but they had yet to see you at your worst, so this made sense. you decide to let them keep this image of you.

Bokuto barrels forward, knocking into your back as you stumble into Kuroo’s arms. he catches you with ease, sending a glare towards his friend.

“Watch it, are you drunk already?”

Bokuto grins, “Pre-gamed a little too hard! My bad, bro.” he pauses, looking at you, “And the lady-bro.”

you stifle a giggle at his words, focusing on the warmth that emits from Kuroo. you suddenly regret wearing something that showed more skin, knowing you got cold easily.

“Tetsu, can we get drinks?” you grab his bicep gently as he looks down.

“Yeah, yeah. Let me just say hi to some of the guys and we’ll go.” he waits for Akaashi to come to your other side before walking, with you squashed between them.

you roll your eyes, what was up with them? it was your first time attending a university party, not your first time at a club.

you greet people mindlessly, and they all seem nice enough. you get restless after twenty minutes though, really wanting a drink. you tug Kuroo’s shirt gently, waiting for him to turn to you.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?”

he frowns, “I’ll come, give me a sec.” he doesn’t wait for a response before excusing himself from his friends. they all wave him off as he guides you to another room in the house, which is more secluded.

you find the table, filled with all sorts of stuff you were unfamiliar with. one of Kuroo’s friends stands by, and you assume he’s keeping an eye on the beverages to ensure nobody spikes them with anything.

Kuroo gives him a quick nod before reaching for a bottle. he must know what he’s doing, however, as he pours you a mixture of two drinks before handing it to you. you take it with narrowed eyes, lifting it to your nose and oh, it smells fruity enough.

you down it in one go, looking back at Kuroo’s slackened jaw. you bark out a loud laugh, before covering it with your hand. “What?”

he shakes his head, “Nothing, nothing. Didn’t know you were so thirsty.”

you shrug in response, mindlessly scanning the room as Kuroo pours himself a drink.

despite the room being half empty, it is still fairly large. you can see a group playing beer pong on the left side, while the ones on the right are laughing loudly as they seemingly discuss something funny.

and then, your eyes land on him.

he’s standing with who you assume is his friend, with their back towards you. he’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and the position allows his navy blue shirt to stretch with the muscle. you swallow when your eyes trail down to his slim waist.

broad shoulders and a small waist? surely that had to be illegal.

his black pants are loose, but fit his thighs nicely.

when your eyes go back to his face, you’re once again filled with the urge to pick up your pencil and draw. he’s not smiling, and you have a feeling he doesn’t smile very often, but it doesn’t take away from his beauty. his cheekbones are pretty and prominent, and you wonder how they would feel beneath your palms.

you bite on your bottom lip at the thought, feeling foolish for thinking about a stranger like that.

“Oh? Does my little Y/n have a crush?” a voice croons next to your ear.

you whip your head back with a glare, “Tetsu, no.”

he laughs loudly, head throwing back as he cackles. you frown, scrunching your nose at him even if he’s too busy laughing to see.

“Oh, c’mon cutie, I’m just teasing. Nothing wrong with a little crush, I would just recommend someone a little… nicer.” he says, out of breath as a grin stretches on his face.

you tilt your head, “Huh? You know him?“

Kuroo ruffles your hair gently, with you moving to fix it immediately.

“We aren’t close, but I do know him since he’s on the same team as me,” Kuroo smiles at the wide eyed look you give him. “i’d say i’m closer with his friend over there.”

when you glance back to the pair, you find that the pretty boy has his eyes on you.

your heart jumps, your body shivering as you snap your eyes back to Kuroo.

what the fuck? maybe you hallucinated that.

“Oh, your man is looking here.”

maybe not.

“Hey, want me to introduce you? Who knows, you might be able to defrost his heart.” he smirks, with you shaking your head to disagree. “No, thank you. I’m not going to defrost his heart like he’s some piece of frozen raw meat.”

he huffs out a laugh, turning into a cough when his eyes partially widen. “Well, you should prepare yourself, they’re both coming here right now.”

you look at Kuroo with an incredulous expression, “You’re fucking lying.”

“Such a foul mouth, cutie.” he lifts his hand up and looks beside you, “Hey, man.” he waves. he nods at the pretty boy next, who you assume nods back.

you finally allow yourself to look away from Kuroo and at the two new men in front of you. they’re both tall, but thankfully you’re used to being surrounded by tall men due to your friends.

you smile at the friend and glance at the pretty boy for a second, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” you’re thankful you manage to sound stable.

“I’m Adriah.” his friend says with a half grin. it’s boyish and charming, but you’re more concerned with the curly-haired guy beside him. your eyes dart to his next, anticipating an introduction.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

his voice is deep, it’s almost alluring. it reminds you of the dark chocolate you often pick up from the convenience store beside your dorm; bitter but comforting.

you always loved dark chocolate.

the thought makes your heart do a funny thing and your chest seize up.

✾

a year and a half later, you kiss Sakusa Kiyoomi for the first time.

you’re close friends by now, perhaps even best friends. you know him like the back of your hand; no, you know better than you know yourself.

you know his arms are covered in beauty marks, ones you’d like to trace with your lips. you know how his hair looks when he first awakens, eyes swollen and lips puffed out in a pout. you know his favorite food, and how he likes his coffee in the morning. you know he sighs through his nose when he’s feeling overstimulated, you know his lips press together when he’s about to say something mean. you know he crosses his arms when he feels like he needs to protect himself, you even know the brand of disinfecting wipes he prefers to buy.

you know he has a dimple on his left cheek when he smiles, you know how his lips stretch out all pretty when he’s caught off guard. you know the low timbre in his chest when he laughs, his thick steel walls suddenly nowhere to be seen as he allows himself to relax.

“Kiyo, please? I really want to go, and nobody else wants to come!” you beg, voice sad as you sit on the edge of his bed.

it’s 12:00PM, and Kiyoomi is still laying in bed. you understand, it is a Saturday, but you wanted to go out and visit the cat cafe with supposedly amazing tiramisu.

the lump on the bed barley moves, “Oh great, so I’m your last choice. I’ll pass.”

you smile, giggling. “No, you were my first choice, but you said no so I asked other people and they also refused, so now I came back to you!”

he lifts the covers, sitting up. he’s shirtless, and the sight of his bare body covered in pretty beauty marks makes your brain short-circuit. you turn away, huffing. “Put on a shirt you… perv.”

you hear a pretty laugh then, your head immediately turning back to catch the rare sight. he shakes his head, small grin still on his face, “I’m the perv? Not the one who’s red in the face and can’t even look me in the eye?”

you blink harshly, “I can look at you! I’m just… respecting your boundaries.”

you turn away again, crossing your arms. you hear the covers on the bed shuffle, and when you slowly turn around, you find yourself much closer to Kiyoomi than you thought.

you blink, moving to give him space and tumbling off the bed in the process with a yelp. he grabs you with wide eyes, moving so he takes the brunt of the fall.

you land on top of him, watching as he groans in pain below you. your hands are resting on his broad shoulders, and they feel smooth beneath your hands.

he sighs, laying his head on the floor. he looks up at you through lidded eyes. “So what now, genius? You made us fall.”

you shoot him a dirty look, “Well nobody told you to fall with me.”

“This is the ‘thank you’ I get? Next time I’ll let you get hurt, brat.” he rolls his eyes with a scoff.

you pout, bottom lip pushing out. “You’d let me fall and get hurt?”

he stares at you intently, not answering. you take the time to observe his face, wanting to burn the memory into your brain. you like the small bump on his nose. you like the way his bottom lip is slightly bigger than the top. you like the way his skin turns red easily, his cheeks often sporting a pretty blush even from the slightest chilly air. you like his thick curly hair, wondering how it would feel in your hands. you like his eyes too, dark and swirling with emotions you’ve yet to unravel and discover.

suddenly realizing your proximity, your eyes dart to his lips. plush and full, they look so inviting. you subconsciously lick your bottom lip, glancing up to find his eyes are also on your mouth. and when he finally looks you in the eye, you know if you don’t make a move now, you never will.

you lean in, slowly, and with a gentle exhale, you press your lips to his.

✾

a month later, you have sex with Kiyoomi.

it comes naturally, you think. soft kisses shared with hushed whispers were no longer enough. it led to heated touches and lust-filled eyes.

so when the two of you end up going further, you have no complaints.

he treats you exactly how you’d like, gentle in some ways and rough in others. you like the feel of his calloused hands caressing your skin, the rough bumps making him more attractive than you already thought he was.

and then you’re laying in bed, sweaty and covered in fluid. but his mattress is so comfortable, and your eyelids feel heavy.

“Y/n, we need to shower.”

“One minute.” you mumble quietly.

you feel a hand gently move hair out of your face, subconsciously leaning into the warmth of his palm. it’s gone before you can speak, and you have to force the whine down your throat.

you hear a sigh, and then feel a strong arm slide underneath your knees with the other behind your back as you are lifted into the air.

you squeak, hands scrambling to latch onto his neck. you look up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes, “Seriously, Kiyo? I can still walk, you jackass.”

he shakes his head with a small grin, and your hands itch to grab his face and kiss him senseless. “Are you sure you can walk? I’m not sure you can after all that.”

you change your mind, you want to slap him senseless.

“Ha-ha. So. Funny.” you deadpan, unable to help yourself and breaking into a smile when you feel his shoulders shake as he chuckles.

when the two of you are in bed, freshly washed and ready to sleep, Kiyoomi breaks your heart for the first time.

you’re laying your head on his chest, heartbeat steady and comforting as it almost lulls you to sleep.

his voice pulls you back, “Y/n,”

you hum in response.

“I don’t want you to misunderstand, I care about you, but I’m not looking for anything serious right now.” the words are spoken softly, but they cut through your heart nonetheless.

your body freezes, and you have to force yourself to relax when you realize he can feel it.

so what if Kiyoomi isn’t ready to date? you’re okay with kissing him, going out with him, and sleeping with him. you’re okay with that and not having a label. you’re okay with not being exclusive.

you’re okay with having him to this extent.

you’re okay.

“I understand. Don’t worry, Kiyoomi.”

✾

five months later, everything is the same.

and yet, nothing is the same.

“I don’t like this, Y/n. I think you should break things off with him.” Kuroo frowns, leaning into Akaashi’s side as he hogs the blanket to himself in the freezing cold apartment.

you pull your own fluffy throw closer, “There’s nothing to break off, Tetsu. There’s no label.”

Bokuto walks in, clad in a black tank top and volleyball shorts. “You can break off this unlabeled arrangement you have, Y/n! Just call it exactly that!” he smiles, hands on his hips standing proudly.

Akaashi coughs, “Bo, please put your air conditioning lower. We’re all going to get sick at this rate.”

Bokuto frowns, hands dropping to his sides. he walks to the thermostat, “Seriously? I think the temperature is fine.”

“That’s because you’re not human, you beast.” Kuroo snorts.

Bokuto turns around, looking scandalized. “I’m not a beast! You two are just weenies!”

you giggle, “Thank you for not including me with them, Kou.”

he salutes you with a cute little grin.

so maybe your friends were against your… situation with Kiyoomi. but you knew what you were doing, and while he might not want a relationship right now, you’re sure you can change his mind over time.

naive, perhaps, but you’ve always been a romantic at heart.

✾

everything comes to a head at one of their volleyball games.

you’re invited, of course. being friends with a few of the boys had allowed you to show up earlier and get seats in the front row.

it’s not your first game, but you’re excited nonetheless.

until you see Kiyoomi with someone unfamiliar.

she’s pretty, almost unearthly pretty. her hair is long, and cascades down her back like those magical waterfalls one would find deep in the forest. her smile is perfect, not crooked in the slightest. and when she greets him, her dainty hand smoothes over the skin of his arm; you walk faster.

Kuroo greets you first, with Akaashi and Bokuto coming behind him. you give them all your best wishes, but you can’t stop the uneasy feeling in your stomach at the sight of Sakusa with that girl.

when Akaashi sees your line of sight, he grimaces sympathetically. “Ah, that’s one of his friends from high school.”

your eyes shoot to his, and you wonder what expression you’re showing, because he comes closer and wraps you in a hug. you release a breath at the touch, letting yourself relax as he pats your back.

when you go to greet Sakusa, the girl is still there.

she’s sticking to him like a leech.

you try to get rid of the rude thoughts as you approach. she didn’t deserve your jealousy, nobody did. because you did this to yourself.

“Hi, Kiyo.” you smile.

he smiles back at you, and though it is small, it’s there. something in you settles when you think about how far the two of you have gotten.

the girl beside him is looking at the two of you curiously, but all you do is give her an awkward grin and turn back to Kiyoomi.

“Um, I just wanted to say good luck. I have a surprise for you, i’ll give it to you after the game.”

he raises a brow, intrigued. “You can’t give it to me now?”

you huff out a laugh. “No, silly. It’s a reward for you playing today. I know you’ll do well regardless of the outcome.”

his face smoothes out as he nods, “Okay, I’ll be waiting then.”

without another word you wave and turn around, walking to the seats and taking one in the front. you feel odd being the first to leave, but it was clear that the girl was not going to her seat until the game started. and while you’d like to talk to Kiyoomi more, you know you have to control yourself before you do something stupid like show him your jealousy.

the game goes by quickly, with your university winning the match. you cheer loudly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. it’s times like these that you truly cherish the joy in life. even though you hadn’t played in the game yourself, you can practically feel the positive energy radiating off of the players, and it fills you with excitement.

you run down and across the court, moving to hug your friends as you congratulate them.

“Y/n are you going to come with us to get dinner? Please say yes!” Bokuto widens his eyes, bottom lip curling into a pout.

you smile, happy to be included but knowing you have to decline. “Sorry, Kou. I already have plans with Kiyoomi. Can we raincheck?”

he nods sadly, and Akaashi pats him on the back in consolation.

“Have fun at dinner! I’m going to find Kiyoomi.” you wait till they exit the gymnasium before turning around and looking for the tall dark-haired man you were enamored with.

you can’t seem to find him through the crowd and the thought has you frowning anxiously. you stumble inside the group of people, breathing out when you finally see the end of the mob. with another exhale, you look up.

you see red.

because there is Kiyoomi, with the small pretty girl in his arms as she wraps her own around his neck. their faces lean in together, and if you didn’t know any better you’d assume they were about to kiss.

without even knowing what you’re doing, you march right up and grab his arm, tugging him into you with as much force as you can muster.

he looks down at you with wide eyes, and even though his hair is damp with sweat and his shirt is sticking to his skin, you find him to be the prettiest in the room.

suddenly realizing how this looked, you let go of his arm and step back. “What were you two doing?” you ask, voice soft yet loud enough for him to hear. the crowd has begun to disperse, leaving only the team and their friends in the gymnasium.

the girl looks awkward, glancing between you and Kiyoomi before taking a step back. “Uh, I’m gonna get going now. I’ll text you later, ‘Omi.”

your eye twitches at the nickname, and when Kiyoomi simply nods at her, you feel like you’re losing your mind.

he says nothing to you as he moves to pack his things, stuffing his towel in his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. he doesn’t even glance at you as he walks out, with you trailing after him like a lost puppy.

the walk to his apartment is short, but because of the silence it feels much longer; much more painful, like every step is with your bare foot onto glass.

when you finally arrive at his place, he shuts the door and tosses his gym bag to the side before turning to you.

“Want to explain what that was?” his face is cold, and the uncaring way he speaks to you makes you nervous.

you swallow, “Shouldn’t you explain? Why were her arms… Why did it look like you two were dating, or something? Why did you let her touch you like that?”

he chuckles, though it has none of the sweetness that it is normally laced with. “Why the fuck does it matter? You’re not my girlfriend.”

surprisingly, the words don’t hurt as much as you thought they would. no, you knew that already. what really makes your skin burn is the way he looks at you.

you feel dread creep up on you, goosebumps arising on your skin as you shiver. the look in his eyes is unforgiving, a stark contrast to the normally fond gaze you are granted with.

maybe that’s why it twists the metaphorical knife that is lodged in your stomach, scarlet blood seeping out as the squelch rings in your ears. it feels far too real, you can almost see him holding the knife as it digs deeper into your flesh.

“I never liked that about you.”

it's vague, but you feel like you understand what he means regardless. you ask him to clarify despite yourself. “Never liked what?” you whisper. your hands are shaking; you hold them behind your back to conceal it.

“The way you act around me. Like we’re in a loving relationship when really, we’re just friends who sleep together sometimes.” the words spoken are firm, leaving no room for you to even question whether he means them or not.

“I’m sorry?” you sound breathless, asking him to confirm what he had already said.

his eyes darken further, and you swallow harshly at the sight.

“You need me to say more to get it through your thick skull?” he scoffs, furious, and the sound cuts into your already wounded heart.

“I don’t like the way you coddle me. I don’t appreciate when you give me your opinions on things you know nothing about.” he pauses. you wait with bated breath, wondering how much more your heart could take.

“And, god, I really fucking hate when you show up at my games and smother me in front of everyone. It’s uncomfortable, and then you put me on the spot and act like you’re my fucking girlfriend.”

it feels like someone has plunged their hand through your chest, tearing you apart as they grasp onto your beating heart; you can almost picture it, the way the mangled organ thumps erratically as crimson liquid seeps out between their fingers.

you inhale shakily, “I just… I love you, I’m sorry.”

you look up, to see who’s holding your heart hostage.

“I don’t love you. I never have, and I never will.”

it’s him.

and fuck, it’s always him.

✾

two summers from now, Sakusa knows he’ll be playing volleyball professionally, for the first time.

he’ll have finished his fourth year of university, and he will be happy.

happiness.

Sakusa doesn’t exactly understand the emotion. sure, he’s felt anxiety, rage, and satisfaction, but happiness? what did that even entail?

he sits silently, trying to drone out the professors talks of another essay, and suddenly regrets taking a psychology class. because the amount of writing it required was a bit too much, even for him.

and then his thoughts go back to happiness.

oftentimes, Sakusa is told he looks mean; grouchy. and yet, he remembers an old conversation with Atsumu.

“So… you and Y/n?” Atsumu drawled.

Sakusa sighs, moving to pack up his things in the locker room. “It’s not like that, don’t go spreading anything.”

the blond raises his hands in mock surrender, wet hair sticking to his forehead. “Hey! I would never!”

and then he grins, though not as obnoxious as usual. it’s more kind, if anything, and Sakusa doesn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m just saying, ya seem a lot less grumpy these days. Happier.”

Sakusa pauses, staring at the chipped paint on the wall.

Atsumu sighs, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he moves to exit. “She’s good for ya, ‘Omi.” he pats his shoulder twice on his way out. “Don’t fuck it up, man.”

Sakusa stiffens; not at the action, but at his words. he quickly places everything in his bag before zipping it up and heading home.

if he’s a bit dazed at practice the next day, no one says anything.

when Sakusa lays in bed, he recounts the last time he spoke to you.

it’s been two weeks, and even though time has passed, it feels like just yesterday you were standing in his kitchen with your heart on your sleeve, letting him use it however he wished.

he remembers feeling furious at you, for so obviously disrespecting one of his good high school friends. and then you hadn’t even apologized, you’d instead pushed at him even more.

and then… he ruined everything.

he remembers the look on your face, the pure heartbreak in your irises as he carelessly spewed words he knew would hurt you.

it was not surprising when he walked into practice two days later to see glares of contempt by some of his teammates, who he knew were your friends. even Atsumu had looked at him and shook his head, and some part of him burned with shame. his mistakes were on display for everyone to see, and although he wanted to pull his walls even higher, he felt too distraught at the potential loss of you to bother.

he remembers laying in bed that night, finally deciding to break the silence between the two of you. but with a simple, ‘I’m sorry. Can we talk?’ he was able to find out that he was blocked.

he felt ice run through his veins, pausing at the vibrant red letters, spelling Not Delivered. he quickly opened Instagram and Twitter and found you had him removed and blocked there as well.

fuck.

he had really done it now, hadn’t he? he so naively believed that you simply needed space, and once he gave you a sincere apology the two of you could go back to the way things were; that you two could explore whatever non-platonic feelings he was beginning to develop for you.

but once he realizes the gravity of the situation, he wonders what the point is of experiencing love for the first time if it ends here.

it can’t end here.

he makes it his mission to try to meet you.

first he showed up to your Thursday class, knowing it ended at noon and you had a two-hour gap between your next one. he has a coffee in one hand and a freshly baked donut in the other. he drove across town to grab it, knowing it was your favourite. he knows a mere donut cannot make up for what he said to you, but it felt wrong coming empty handed to reconcile with you. not when you deserved everything and more.

except when you see him, you immediately turn and walk in the opposite direction.

the action stings, and he sighs once you are out of view. the bag with the donut in his hand feels heavy, his hand tingling with the rejection. he knew you wouldn’t forgive him so easily, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

I deserve this, he acknowledges.

I deserve this and worse.

it’s the next week when he has the chance to see you again; he knows you’re working, often meeting you at the cafe to pick you up and take you to his place home.

so with a deep breath, he walks in. the door bell chimes loudly, and he curses mentally when he realizes how deserted the place is at the moment. there’s only a few people inside; a man sitting in the corner as he types furiously on his laptop. a woman and two others sitting on the side as they sip on what he assumes is coffee or tea.

and then he looks to the front, where you stand, and your eyes are on him.

the moment he takes a step forward, you stumble back, as if burned. he stops, unsure if he should keep walking or simply say something as he stands ten feet away from you.

unfortunately for him, you seem to come back to reality and swiftly open the door where it explicitly states STAFF. a moment later, one of your coworkers walks out with their customer service smile, and he deflates.

third time’s a charm, he says to comfort himself. but even he knows it won’t be that easy.

it’s friday, and even though he had no idea if you’d be home, he figured it was worth a shot. so that’s how he finds himself at your door, with a bouquet of white Tulips in his arms.

“Hi! Is there anything I can help you with?”

he jumps slightly when he hears a high-pitched voice coming from behind him, turning around and smoothing out his face.

“I’m not sure.” he states quietly.

“That’s okay! Is there anything in specific you’re looking for? A colour, or a meaning, perhaps?”

he frowns; it feels like all he’s been doing is frowning lately. “Uh, maybe something bright? Or… something that symbolizes forgiveness?”

she smiles sympathetically, and he wonders what expression he must be showing to warrant such a response from a stranger.

and that’s how he finds himself here. he shuffles on his feet, clutching the flowers to his chest protectively. with a soft inhale, he raises his fist and knocks.

silence.

he rings the doorbell this time, and still nothing.

he exhales quietly, his head dropping as he stares at the old carpet that covered the hallways in your apartment building. he’s been here so many times with you, but now he sees nothing but the back of your door and he has nobody but himself to blame.

he stands in front of your place for an hour, mindlessly staring at the wall as he recalls his words to you. how you’d handed your heart to him with your bare hands, only for him to treat it as though it meant nothing to him.

so on Sunday, he lays in bed and recounts the last two weeks.

he wants to wallow in self-pity, but then he hears banging on his door and wonders which unlucky soul will encounter his wrath.

he swings the door open, face emotionless and mouth ready to open and hurl insults at the other, until he sees his one and only cousin, Komori.

“Hey man!” his cousin smiles, innocent and happy.

Sakusa hates it.

his shoulders slump as all anger vanishes, exhaustion left in its wake. “What are you doing here, Moyota,”

he walks back to his room as Komori closes the door. “because if you can’t tell, i’m busy.”

Komori snorts, “Busy doing what? Moping?”

Sakusa glares at him, but in his disheveled state he merely looks like a feral wounded puppy. he crawls back under his covers, face smushed inside his pillow as he feels the other side of the bed dip.

“Get your outside clothes off my bed, Moyota.”

he hears a huff before the pressure is gone, and wills himself to sleep.

“Listen, I know you’re upset about what happened with Y/n, but sitting in your sadness won’t get you anywhere.”

Sakusa continues to lay there. “Mhm.”

Komori ignores the dry response, “There’s a party on Friday. You should go.”

“Why should I go to a party? You want me to drink my sorrows away?” his voice comes out muffled but he’s sure Komori can hear him regardless.

“Y/n will be there.”

that gets his attention. he sits up, the covers pooling at his waist as he crosses his arms. “How do you know?” his eyes narrow.

Komori rolls his eyes, “Because, I overheard Kuroo asking her to come on the phone. Something about him finding her someone new to replace you.”

he clenches his fists, feeling the burn of jealousy take over. replace him? he knew you were well-liked in your program, often waving at people whenever the two of you walked together on campus. he was not ignorant of the stares you’d get from fellow students. but it didn’t matter then because he knew his eyes were on you, and yours were on him.

but now everything’s different.

now, your eyes are not solely on him. the thought has his chest hurting in a way that he can only describe as a stabbing pain.

“I’ll go.”

✾

the week passes by too slow for Sakusa, but he knows it’s only because he’s missing you. when friday arrives, he’s feeling somewhat optimistic about meeting you and hopefully reconciling.

he scrunches the products in his hair, freshly washed from the shower. he’s wearing black slacks and a matching button-up. he places a few rings on his hands and moves to dry his hair with a cotton t-shirt once more before exiting his room.

“About time, dude. Why is your hair routine so complicated?” his cousin complains from his place on the couch, looking at him expectantly.

Sakusa grabs his keys on the counter, “My hair isn’t pin-straight, that’s why. Why are you still sitting down, let’s go.”

Komori rises with a shake of his head as he walks to the front door and slips on his shoes. Sakusa waits for him to leave before locking the door and following him to his car.

the drive seems unreasonably fast, and his palms feel sweaty as he wipes them on his pants. he’s suddenly thankful he chose to wear black bottoms.

when he walks inside the house, he’s immediately hit with the smell of alcohol and sweat. it’s absolutely disgusting, and he has to remind himself why he’s there as he takes another step forward.

“Let’s go to the back! It’ll be less busy there!” Komori raises his voice, but Sakusa can just barely hear his words. he nods and follows his cousin to another room, breathing out in relief when he notices there are fewer people.

Sakusa subtly shuffles towards an empty corner, knowing Komori is following him. he turns around, leaning on the wall, “These people are revolting. When is Y/n getting here?”

Komori scratches his head, tapping at his phone with one hand. “Not sure, let me check with my friends. I’ll ask where Kuroo is.”

he scowls, “Why would that matter?”

“Because he wouldn’t leave her alone at a party.” Komori shrugs. “They’re real close.”

something in his chest feels tight at his cousins words. you and Sakusa were once close; and if you forgave him, he’d let you be even closer. he just has to apologize and hopefully smooth everything over.

a part of him itches to go and search for you himself. he feels on edge, knowing you are so close yet so far away. it unsettles him, the thought that if you don’t forgive him he’ll have to watch you from afar, and accept that someone will love and care for you all the ways he didn’t.

but - does he love you? he cares for you, immensely at that. but does he love you?

he thinks about your pretty eyes, always filled with affection. he thinks about your ability to make people feel comfortable around you within minutes. he thinks about your small hands, your shy smile, the feeling of your hair when he twirls a lock around his finger as you lay in his bed. he thinks about how you look with the sun seeping through the crack in the curtains, skin glowing and lips slightly parted as you exhale softly.

his heart beat echos in his ears. he feels a flush take over his face and places the back of his hand on his forehead. he suddenly feels hot.

maybe he has a fever? but so suddenly? he swallows, the sound echoing in his head.

and then he finally sees you, drink in hand as you throw your head back and laugh.

his heart beats loudly in his chest.

he places a hand above it, feeling the erratic thumps beneath his palm.

ah.

so he loves you.

Sakusa waits.

he waits in the corner, a drink in his hand, courtesy of Komori as he subtly stares at you from across the room.

it’s been about an hour, and you’ve yet to notice him. he cherishes the time, observing you from afar. he watches you giggle and wrap your arms around your friends, the gaping hole you’d left in his heart the moment you walked out of his life grows by the minute.

he’s contemplating what to do when you finally lock eyes with him.

he watches the smile slowly slip off your face, something akin to agony colouring your eyes.

he begins to walk towards you, not breaking eye contact for a second. it's like he's entranced. and when he’s right in front of you, he feels breathless; like your existence has left him at a loss for words.

“Hey.”

his voice comes out rough, and he clears his throat when your lips tug downwards.

your friends are looking at him with distaste, even Bokuto who normally sports a happy grin seems fairly upset. it makes him realize what a huge fuck-up he is.

he shifts on his feet, “Can we talk?”

Kuroo answers for you. “No, you can’t. You’ve said enough to her.” he steps in front of you, shoulders pushed back.

Sakusa feels irritation bubble in his chest, but pushes it down, knowing that Kuroo has a reason to be protective over you.

“I just want to apologize. And, confess something.” his voice comes out more desperate than he thought it would. it sounds fragile, even to his own ears.

Kuroo deflates, if only slightly. “It’s still a no. Find someone else to mess around with.”

“I'm not messing around. I just, I need to talk to her. Please.” the cup in his hand is beginning to bend, the cheap plastic cracking as the drink sloshes around.

Kuroo opens his mouth to what he assumes refuse him again, until a small hand grabs onto his arm and steps in front of him.

he watches as you let go of Kuroo, looking more composed than you had been before.

“It’s okay, Tetsu. I can handle this.” your voice makes his skin tingle. he realizes how much he’s missed it.

Sakusa’s shoulders drop in relief. he feels so happy that you decided to talk to him, he doesn’t even care that your friends are glaring him down.

“But-”

you cut Kuroo off, “Really, it’s fine. I’ll text you if I need anything.”

Kuroo looks like he wants to argue, but you give him a look that has him backing down.

he huffs, “Fine. Just be careful. Call me if he does anything.”

Sakusa stops himself from scoffing, annoyed with Kuroo’s words. what would he do at this point? what could he possibly do to make things worse than they already are?

you pat Kuroo on the arm and walk past Sakusa, turning back. “Let’s go.” you don’t wait for a response before continuing, and he follows you without a glance at your friends.

he tries to control his breathing, attempting to keep it steady as you enter the backyard. it’s empty, the chilly night air keeping everyone inside.

you turn around, crossing your arms. “So? You wanted to talk?”

he licks his lips, rubbing his forearm with his hand. he’s thankful that he threw his drink out at the garbage can near the back door. he can feel his hands shaking, and hopes you don’t notice.

“Yeah.” he exhales, “How have you been?”

you shrug, expression guarded. “Fine.”

he nods, expecting the dry answer but still feeling a bit dejected.

“I miss you.”

the words come out so abruptly. the two of you stare at each other in shock, and he almost raises a hand to cover his mouth.

god, why did he just say that?

you laugh, but it comes out less genuine than he’s ever seen. “You should be happy you don’t have someone pretending to be your girlfriend, right?”

his face drops, and he knows whatever expression he’s showing is not as stoic as he thought. because with one glance at his face you look like you almost regret your words.

“I was.. I was so fucking stupid that night. I know you have no obligation to forgive me, but please let me apologize.”

you stare at him silently, before nodding.

Sakusa breathes out, “I’m sorry. Nothing I said was true. I was just… angry. Not at you, at myself. I had been denying how I felt for so long and when you asked me who that girl was, I just lost it.”

he stares at the grass rather than your face, not wanting to know if you look at him with an unforgiving gaze. “I realized that I had unintentionally entered a sort of- relationship with you. I was scared. I still am.”

he lifts his gaze finding your wide eyes. “It was an unintentional relationship, but I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

he pauses, “Of course, except when I ruined everything. I’ve stayed up every night since it happened thinking about how I could have responded differently.” his lips tug up, the expression bitter.

“Because it was after that I realized my feelings for you.”

your brows furrow, your eyes darting around his face in pure confusion. “What are you saying, Sakusa?”

he ignores the ache of you using his last name, “That I have feelings for you.”

the silence is deafening as crickets chirp in the silent night.

“I love you, Y/n.”

you stagger back, as if wounded. you shake your head, “No, no. You don’t love me, Sakusa.”

he doesn’t understand your response. sure, you wouldn’t be elated. he knew you were still upset. but you look like you genuinely don’t believe him, like you refuse to believe him. he feels like he’s going to collapse if you walk away without acknowledging his feelings.

“What? I’m serious, Y/n. I love you.” he reaches a hand out, drawing back when you flinch.

“I’m in love with you.” he whispers.

you look at him, as though he has caused you immense pain, before turning away and running back into the house.

Sakusa stands there, alone in the dark.

he wonders if love is supposed to be so painful; if he will always be the one to inflict the pain, cause the heartache, and leave everything in ruins.

✾

"Shit." you curse as you stare at the empty fridge in front of you. an old bar of havarti cheese and two stale apples stare mockingly at you.

so perhaps you haven't gone grocery shopping in quite a while, but you've been busy! with assignments, your friends, and... Sakusa, you have had too much on your head to worry about things like restocking your fridge.

but now it's nearly midnight, and you have yet to eat dinner. your stomach rumbles at you, and you press a hand to it in annoyance.

you can skip a meal, it's not the end of the world.

but then your stomach rumbles again, and it's starting to feel extremely uncomfortable.

you check your phone, just to see if you can order in. but with one glance at the delivery price, you click your phone off. you stare at the sad-looking apples and cheese once more, making up your mind.

the convenience store is about a ten-minute walk, five if you run.

without another thought, you grab a hoodie from the coat rack and put it on. you pick up your apartment keys and slip into your shoes, bracing yourself for the cold air.

the walk ends up being somewhat soothing, the normally lively city is quieter. you use the time to think about your relationship - or lack thereof, with Sakusa. you still remember when he professed his love for you two weeks ago.

you remember rushing back into the party and telling your friends you had to leave. Kuroo drove you home, and you spent the night eating leftover icecream and binging Jujutsu Kaisen.

why couldn't you date someone like Gojo?

but then you think someone calmer, more steady would suit your personality well. someone who you could rely on and with a bit of sarcasm perhaps. someone who has dark hair; you always liked curly hair on men.

someone like him.

Sakusa Kiyoomi.

your thoughts are cut off when you finally get to the store. the lights are bright underneath the dark sky, the bell chiming when you open the door. you quickly grab a few rice balls, and walk to the cashier. it takes you a total of three minutes to get what you want, before you're walking back out with a plastic bag in hand.

you look up as you walk, the stars twinkling prettily. they remind you of his eyes.

you really wish you could stop thinking about him.

Sakusa makes you feel like you've caught a never-ending sickness. like you will wake up each day with your chest in pain, with your eyes swollen from crying paired with your unstable emotions.

its exhausting, you think; caring about people to a point where they cannot understand or reciprocrate your feelings. and then you always end up like this. alone. you wonder how long it will take for the other people you cherish to leave you too.

your thoughts come to a halt when you hear footsteps behind you.

its dark outside, the streetlights only providing a dim yellow glow as you walk. when you turn your head, you notice a man in a hood. your heart immediately plummets.

fuck, what had you been thinking? you should have ordered delivery, screw the price! the money wasn't worth your life.

you walk faster, noticing the person speeding up their steps. your breathing is becoming heavier, and you can feel your legs trembling as you continue to walk. you know you can't go home, otherwise he will know where you live.

you make a detour to head to a park you've been to many times. it was about a five-minute walk from your place, and the thought has you walking faster anxiously.

when you hear his footsteps draw closer, you turn your head and see he is much closer than before.

your breath hitches, and you find yourself tearing up in fear.

you are about to resort to an offensive stance, prepared to swing your bag of riceballs at his head when you bump into something.

you gasp loudly, flinching so harshly at the suddenness of the situation. you look up, finding familiar dark eyes. they look at you with bewilderment, but all you can think about is the pure relief that pools in your stomach, the tears building up in your eyes finally falling.

you rush forward and wrap your arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent. your shoulders are trembling, but they calm slightly when you feel an arm wrap around your waist and the other smooth over your upper back.

he looks over your shoulder, and you are unsure what expression he is showing. "Did you need something?" his voice comes out deep and - angry. you wonder if you are hallucinating the protectiveness that coats his tone. his arms tighten around you further, causing you to relax in his embrace.

you wait, body stuck to his. you hear footsteps retreating, and breathe out shakily.

"He's gone." he says, voice low.

you nod, but you stay in your position for a few minutes, content to bury yourself in his embrace after such a terrifying situation.

"Kiyoomi?" you look up, placing your hands on his chest.

he tilts his head downwards, "Are you okay? He didn't do anything, did he?" his brows are furrowed, lips pursed. he looks extremely concerned, and you feel surprised that he seems to care about you so much.

you shake your head slowly, "No, he didn't do anything. I'm - i'm fine." you lick your lips, trying to convince yourself to believe your own words.

Sakusa doesn't answer you, but he does turn his head and glance back before looking down at you. "I'll walk you home. Are you okay to walk? I can carry you."

you don't have much energy left, but you manage to laugh anyway. "I can walk, thank you."

you gently push at his chest, even though you want to continue to stay in his arms. you don't have that privilege any longer, and you shouldn't have assumed you had it in the first place.

you nod, however, and accept his offer to walk you home. you'll let yourself be selfish just this once, and then you'll let him go.

the walk back is silent, but Sakusa sticks close to you. you feel safe with him next to you, regardless of the fact that he hurt you so deeply.

he seems to protect you from others, but never from himself and his words. you sigh tiredly at the thought.

when you get to your apartment, he insists on walking you up. once at your door, you look at him and shuffle on your feet awkwardly.

"Uh, thanks for helping me back there and walking me home. I'll go inside now." you reach for your doorknob but he grabs your hand, pulling you closer. his head dips down, and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

"Please, just talk to me. I can't handle this." his voice makes you shiver, and you curse your body for reacting that way to him.

you lick your lips, "Can't handle what?"

he opens his eyes, tilting his head further down to catch your gaze. "You being mad at me. You ignoring me. Please, tell me what I need to do to fix this."

the two of you are standing so close, your cheeks heat up at the proximity. he still makes you so nervous after two years of knowing him, and the thought has you annoyed with your weak heart.

a shaky breath escapes your lips. "I don't know. You really hurt me, Sakusa."

he looks at you, face pained. like you being upset is causing him pain, and your chest aches to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry, I love you."

the words bring you back to that night, where you bared your heart to him and he trampled on it without a thought. you feel the urge to let more tears slip out, but you are tired of crying over people that do not care for you. you are tired of being the one that loves more.

but he looks different now. his eyes are filled with remorse, and you want to kiss his frown away. maybe, just maybe, this time you wouldn't be the one who loved too much for their own good.

he wipes a thumb underneath your eye, swiping over your cheek. you hadn't even realized you were crying until the concern in his face grew. it makes you feel embarrassed and angry at yourself, but you can’t find it in you to refuse his comfort.

"You don't mean that, Kiyoomi." your voice cracks involuntarily.

he shakes his head pushing your foreheads closer to one another. "I do, I mean it. I'll say it a million times until you believe me."

you huff out a shaky breath. "A million times is a bit dramatic."

"I'd do it for you." he moves his head to the side, pressing a kiss to your temple. the action has butterflies erupting in your stomach, unused to something so innocently romantic.

"You realize we have a lot to talk about? It won't be easy. I can't forgive you so quickly." you lean closer, tilting your head up.

he leans his head downwards. "I know. I'm sorry, just give me a chance and we can talk about it. I'll work hard to make you forgive me." the words are whispered close to your lips, his breath hitting your face. the minty scent is so Kiyoomi, it has your heart fluttering.

you know you have a lot to talk about. you can't just gloss over the month you spent apart, and you would have to talk to your friends about your choice to give him another chance. it would be difficult, and a risk. you were tired of pouring love into people who could not understand its substance.

but perhaps you can hope; you can hope that this time things will be different. that you'll love someone who will love you back all the same.

"Okay." you say softly.

he smiles, and you wonder if you are imagining the glassy look in his eyes. "Okay?"

you nod, whispering once more. "Yeah, okay."

he tilts his head down and captures your lips with his own, one arm sliding around your waist and the other in your hair, tugging you impossibly close.

you gasp into it, not expecting the desperation that leaks from his lips. he pushes you against the wall, with you wrapping your arms around his neck.

tomorrow, you'd have a lot to think about. you'll have to talk to him and figure out what's in store for the two of you. you will also have to face people who will surely disagree with your decision.

but that was a problem for the future.

for now, you're content to focus on the warm lips on your own.

EXTRA:

"So, what happened with that girl anyway?" your cheek is smushed on Kiyoomi's chest as the two of you lay in bed. you had come over to his place after his practice, and you were enjoying the skinship and cuddles.

he shifts underneath you, "Which girl?" his voice is drowsy, and you know he's falling asleep. you can't help yourself though, you've been curious.

you lift your head, smiling at his tired eyes. "The one from the game. She kept touching you."

you watch recognition fill his eyes as he hums, "She asked me to grab a coffee a few days after the game. Haven't responded though."

you nod, satisfied. "Are you going to? Respond, that is."

he turns, large arm wrapping around you. "Why would I do that when I have you? I'd rather the both of us get coffee sometime."

you laugh, "Are you asking me out on a date, Sakusa Kiyoomi?"

he smiles sleepily, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Yes. Let's get coffee soon."

you giggle, snuggling closer. "Okay, sounds good to me."

the surprise you had wanted to give to him after the game sits on his wall, framed and beside his bed. the drawing is one of your best, filled with the overwhelming love you know you could only ever offer to Kiyoomi.

love has always been something daunting for you. to love so wholeheartedly meant the likelihood of someone hurting you was greater. but you don't regret anything, not the slightest bit.

because you know how much love you have to offer, and as long as its to the right person, you know he'll keep your heart safe.

you love him, and you're not sorry.

a/n: 9.7k words later i refuse to read this again:’)

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa fluff #sakusa angst #haikyuu angst to fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu angst #sakusa x y/n #sakusa imagines

653 notes · View notes

baelabong · 15 days

Text

ᴄʟᴜᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ

ʀɪᴄʜɢɪʀʟ! ʏ/ɴ x ᴏʟᴅᴇʀꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀꜱʙꜱꜰʀ!ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ

Plot: Y/N lives a life of luxury, lounging by the pool in her mansion, completely at ease. But when her sister’s best friend, Karina, shows up, everything changes. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act like the perfect spoiled princess, she finds herself struggling with feelings she doesn’t want to admit.

Warnings: no, fluff, lowkey angst, y/ns a bitch lowkey

wc/rq: 7.5 k words/no, i was just watching clueless again Notes: guys pls teach me ho tochange the colour of the text in tumblr also this took me FIVE DAYS OMG

it’s another perfect day as you lounge around your mansion, well…. your dads but whatever, and you’re in your element. lounging by the pool is practically a full-time job for you, and honestly? no one does it better. your designer sunglasses sit perched on your nose, your iced drink sits on the little table next to you, condensation sliding down the glass, while your phone is buzzing nonstop with notifications. friends asking about plans, people wanting your attention—it’s exhausting, really. but you couldn’t care less at the moment. the world is yours, and you’re revelling in it.

you stretch out on your lounger, flipping through your phone without much interest, skimming texts, and rolling your eyes at half of them. you don’t feel like replying. it’s one of those lazy afternoons where you can just exist in your little bubble, and everything is going your way.

until you hear her voice.

karina.

the sound of her laughing from inside the house catches you completely off guard, and suddenly your perfect little world feels a bit too small. her voice cuts through the air, light and casual, like she owns the place—and you already know she’s probably leaning against the kitchen counter, looking effortlessly cool, as she does.

god, she’s so irritating.

you sit up a bit, tugging your sunglasses down your nose, the slightest frown creasing your brow. you try to ignore the flutter in your chest, that annoying little skip your heart does whenever you know she’s nearby. it’s stupid, really. she’s your sister’s best friend. she’s here for her, not for you. but for some reason, your body never seems to get that memo.

you roll your eyes at yourself, huffing as you grab your phone again, pretending to be engrossed in something important. but it’s useless. you scroll without really looking, your mind racing ahead of itself. the thought of karina, her presence this close, makes your skin tingle in the most frustrating way. it’s like she invades your space, even when she’s not physically next to you.

snap out of it, y/n, you think, shaking your head. but the moment’s already ruined, and lounging by the pool doesn’t feel as serene as it did five minutes ago.

you sigh dramatically, slipping your sunglasses back up and fixing your hair, running your fingers through it like you’re preparing for battle. because, honestly, that’s what it feels like whenever karina’s around—a constant need to look your best, act your best, even though she’s never actually paying attention to you. at least, not in the way you wish she would.

so you push yourself up, deciding it’s better to face whatever weird feelings are bubbling up rather than sitting here, stewing in your own frustration. you stand and slip on your sandals, adjusting your swimsuit just so—because even if you’re annoyed, you’re still going to look flawless. that’s just who you are.

as you stroll into the house, your head held high, your heart’s racing, but you force yourself to look as unbothered as possible. you walk with purpose, sunglasses still on, acting like nothing could possibly faze you.

and then you see her.

karina’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, her black cropped top showing just enough of her toned waist to make your throat go dry. her jeans hug her in all the right places, and her dark hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders, making her look like she just stepped out of a photoshoot without even trying. of course she looks that good. she always does.

and what’s worse? she’s laughing at something your sister just said, completely relaxed, as if the world hasn’t just tilted on its axis now that you’ve entered the room. ugh.

you can feel your stomach flip, but you swallow it down, refusing to let it show. you are y/n, after all. you’re always in control.

"y/n, finally. we’re going shopping," your sister, ningning announces, not even bothering to look up from her phone. she says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if she hasn’t dragged you along on three separate shopping trips already this week.

you roll your eyes dramatically, making sure everyone in the room feels it. shopping? again? it’s like your sister has no sense of boundaries, always assuming you’ll drop everything to go out with her. you love her, obviously, but sometimes she just doesn’t get it.

"ugh, shopping? again?" you groan, exaggerating every syllable. you throw yourself into your usual bratty mode because it’s easy, it’s safe. and more than that—it’s your way of keeping karina at arm’s length. you know if you act like a spoiled little princess, you can keep the attention off how much she messes with your head.

karina glances at you, and you can feel her eyes on you before you even meet them. when you finally do, she’s got that smile on her lips—that tiny, knowing smile that drives you insane. like she can see right through you. like she knows exactly why you’re acting this way.

god, she’s so frustrating.

"you’re coming whether you like it or not," your sister chirps, still absorbed in whatever text she’s typing, oblivious to the tension bubbling under the surface.

you huff, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a sharp toss. "fine. but we better not spend all day in some tacky boutique."

you strut past karina, making sure to give her the cold shoulder as you do, acting like her presence doesn’t bother you in the slightest. like the fact that you’ll be stuck with her for the next few hours isn’t making your brain short-circuit. you feel her eyes linger on you as you walk away, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to turn around and meet them again.

you know what she’s thinking—that you’re being a brat, like usual. that you’re throwing a tantrum because things aren’t going your way. and maybe she’s right.

the drive to the shops feels like it drags on forever, but you manage to keep your cool. you’re in the backseat, legs crossed, uour white crop top hugs you perfectly, and your leather skirt shows just enough skin to catch attention without begging for it. it's the kind of look that makes you feel in control, like the world bends to you.

your phone buzzes again, and you glance at it with a small smile. some boy you barely care about has been texting you for days, throwing compliments like they’re going out of style. he’s sweet, but he’s not who’s really on your mind. you’re only half paying attention to the conversation, lazily scrolling through his messages, while your eyes flick towards the front of the car.

karina’s sitting there, chatting with your sister, her voice low and calm, like she has all the time in the world. she laughs at something your sister says, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes your heart skip for a moment—annoyingly effortless, just like the rest of her. her dark hair is pulled back, showing off that ridiculously sharp jawline, and she’s dressed in this casual, almost too-perfect outfit that only adds to her coolness. you hate how much it affects you, but you’d never show it.

instead, you lean back, subtly watching her from behind your sunglasses, acting like you’re completely disinterested. every now and then, you catch her looking at you through the rear-view mirror, her gaze flickering over you just long enough for you to notice. she’s not obvious about it, but you know. she’s watching you, and it sends a little thrill through your veins, though you’d never admit that either.

as the car slows to a stop at the shopping centre, you apply a quick swipe of lip gloss, making sure your lips are shiny and perfect. you don’t even look at karina when you do it, but you know she’s paying attention. her gaze lingers again, longer this time, before she quickly looks away, focusing back on whatever your sister is babbling about.

you step out of the car with a smooth, practised ease, swinging your small designer bag over your shoulder as your sister immediately grabs your arm and pulls you into the first boutique she sees. you roll your eyes, but follow her, because it’s easier than making a fuss.

inside the shop, your sister flits around like a kid in a candy store, grabbing clothes left and right, already talking a mile a minute about some guy she’s obsessed with. you’re only half listening, the same way you do with the boy who’s been texting you. instead, your attention keeps drifting back to karina, who’s moving between racks with her usual calm and collected grace.

you can’t help but watch her, even when you pretend you’re not. everything about her is so annoyingly perfect. you find yourself bristling at it, at how unbothered she looks, while you’re stuck in your head, trying not to let her get to you.

as if on autopilot, you grab a bright pink dress from a nearby rack and hold it up, not even thinking about it. it’s not your style at all—too loud, too flashy, too... obvious. but you’re not really shopping for yourself at this moment. you’re trying to pull karina’s focus, to force her to engage with you, to get her to stop being so damn aloof.

"what do you think of this?" you ask, holding the dress up in front of her, your tone casual, like you couldn’t care less what she says. but your heart is already beating a little faster, and you hate that she has this effect on you.

karina looks up, her eyes flicking to the dress, then to you. she takes a moment, her lips curling into a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. "it’s cute," she says with that maddening calmness. "but... i think you’d look better in something less... obvious."

you blink, momentarily thrown off. "less obvious?" you scoff, tossing the dress back on the rack with a little more force than necessary. "i think i know what works for me."

"i’m sure you do," karina replies, moving to the next rack like your little outburst didn’t even faze her. she’s so damn unbothered, and it’s infuriating.

you huff, crossing your arms, watching as she walks ahead. she’s already browsing something else, her attention completely shifted away from you, leaving you stewing in your own frustration. who does she think she is, telling you what looks good on you? it’s not like she’s some kind of fashion expert. she’s just... karina. your sister’s best friend. and yet, here you are, letting her opinion mess with your head.

deep down, you know you’re overreacting. it’s not really about the dress. it’s about how karina makes you feel, like she’s always two steps ahead, always so calm and cool, while you’re over here, constantly putting on a show. and the worst part? you care what she thinks. way too much.

you glance at her again, catching the way she moves, so confident, so sure of herself. and for just a moment, you wish you could be that unbothered. but then, you shake the thought away, smoothing down your outfit as if it’ll somehow fix the mess in your head.

"ugh, whatever," you mutter under your breath, striding past her like you’re completely over it. but even as you move to the next rack, you can feel her eyes on you, and it makes your heart race all over again.

you move to the next rack, pretending to focus on a row of dresses that all blur together in your head. your sister is off somewhere, chattering away to some salesgirl, and you’re left alone in this silent tension with karina. you know she’s watching you, even if she’s not making it obvious. but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of looking back. not yet.

after a few more minutes of awkward browsing, your sister finally appears, holding up two completely over-the-top outfits. “which one do you think i should get? i have a party this weekend, and i need to look amazing,” she says, thrusting the clothes at you and karina for judgement.

you raise an eyebrow, barely glancing at the dresses. “does it really matter? you’ll look fine in anything,” you say, a little dismissively, still annoyed at the whole situation.

karina, on the other hand, takes the time to actually consider the options, glancing from one dress to the other with her signature calm. “i like the red one. it’s bold,” she says, giving your sister a genuine smile.

and just like that, your sister beams at karina, completely smitten with her opinion. “ugh, i knew you’d get it!” she squeals, already grabbing the red dress and skipping off to try it on, leaving the two of you alone again.

you roll your eyes at the whole interaction, crossing your arms as you turn back to the rack. “she acts like she’s going to prom or something. it’s just a party,” you mutter, but there’s no real bite in your voice. you’re more distracted by how casual karina is, how her attention shifts so easily from one thing to the next, while you’re stuck here, hyper aware of every little thing she does.

and then, out of nowhere, she’s beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. “you didn’t answer me earlier,” she says softly, her voice low enough that it makes your skin tingle.

you glance up at her, confused. “about what?”

“about why you’re really upset. it’s not the shopping, is it?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, studying your face with those dark eyes that seem to see through you.

your stomach flips, and for a second, you can’t think of anything to say. because she’s right. it’s not the shopping. it’s not even the dress. it’s... her. the way she gets under your skin, the way she knows how to push your buttons without even trying.

you bristle, putting up your usual front. “i’m not upset,” you say, but your voice wavers slightly. “and i’m definitely not interested in whatever psychoanalysis you’re trying to pull.”

karina’s lips curl into that infuriating smirk again, like she knows you better than you know yourself. “sure, y/n. whatever you say.”

and with that, she steps away, her attention shifting back to the clothes, leaving you standing there, heart racing, your mind spinning. you hate how easily she can mess with you. how, with just a few words, she can throw your whole mood off balance.

you let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing a random dress from the rack and heading toward the fitting rooms. you need a minute to collect yourself, to get away from karina’s stupidly perfect calmness, and figure out why she’s making you feel so rattled.

but as you walk away, you can feel her eyes on you again. watching, waiting. and it only makes your pulse quicken even more.

as you step out of the fitting room, tugging at the hem of the shirt you just tried on, your sister's voice cuts through the air. “you should just tell her how you feel, y/n!”

your eyes widen, and you freeze on the spot, glaring at your sister as if that would make her shut up. she says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, but your heart is practically pounding out of your chest. what the hell is she thinking, dropping that in front of karina?

you sneak a glance at karina, who’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest. she’s leaning against the wall, her black leather jacket making her look effortlessly cool as usual. her expression doesn’t give much away, but there’s a small quirk of her eyebrow that tells you she’s definitely heard what your sister just said.

“what the hell are you talking about?” you snap, rolling your eyes and giving your sister a hard shove. “you sound ridiculous.”

your sister just shrugs, clearly not picking up on the tension between you and karina. “i’m just saying! it’s obvious.”

you scoff, crossing your arms and glancing at karina again, trying to read her. her jaw is clenched, and she’s staring right at you, not saying a word, but that stupid smirk she always has is creeping up.

“let’s just go. i’m hungry,” you mutter, eager to change the subject. you brush past your sister and head toward the exit, not even waiting for karina to follow. but of course, she does, her boots thudding against the floor behind you.

outside the store, you try to ignore how close she’s walking next to you, her presence making you feel both irritated and flustered at the same time. why does she have to be so... calm? like she knows something you don’t.

“you’re acting real bratty today,” karina finally says, her deep voice low, like she’s amused by your attitude.

you stop in your tracks and glare at her. “i’m not acting bratty. i’m just not in the mood for this,” you snap back, refusing to let her get under your skin any more than she already has.

karina’s smirk grows wider, and she steps closer, towering over you just enough to make your breath catch. she reaches out and flicks your forehead lightly, like she’s teasing you. “sure, whatever you say, princess.”

your cheeks flush with both embarrassment and frustration. “don’t call me that,” you mutter, though your voice lacks the bite you want it to have.

karina just chuckles, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets as she keeps walking, clearly unfazed by your attitude. you bite your lip, feeling even more annoyed that she’s so good at getting a reaction out of you.

by the time you all pile into the car to head home, the tension between you and karina is palpable. you slide into the backseat, crossing your arms and staring out the window, pretending like you’re not bothered by her.

but every now and then, you catch her eyes flicking to you through the rearview mirror. she doesn’t say anything, but you can feel her watching you, and it drives you insane.

later that day, while you're lounging on your bed, phone in hand, you scroll through your social media feed without much thought, until a particular post makes you stop. it's from the new girl at school—a blonde who's been turning heads since she arrived. what catches your eye, though, is the company she’s keeping. in a series of photos, she’s with karina. they're both laughing, standing way too close, and sharing what looks like an inside joke. karina’s usual cool demeanour is softened, and it rubs you the wrong way.

your stomach churns as you swipe through more pictures. the blonde has tagged karina in a couple of them. in one, their shoulders are pressed together, and in another, karina’s hand is casually resting on the back of her chair, almost possessively. the knot in your chest tightens, and you toss your phone aside, sitting up as if that will shake the irritation building inside you.

why does she look so comfortable around her? you wonder, pacing your room as your thoughts spiral. you try to brush it off—karina’s popular, after all, people gravitate towards her. but this feels different. the thought of this girl spending more time with her than you makes your chest ache in a way that catches you off guard. you hate that it's bothering you this much. i don’t even care that much... right? but deep down, you know that’s a lie.

the next day at school, the nagging jealousy follows you around like a shadow. during lunch, you find yourself sitting across from karina, your eyes scanning her face as she casually eats, scrolling through her phone like nothing's on her mind. but it’s all you can think about.

you take a deep breath, trying to sound casual as you speak up. “so… who’s that new girl? the blonde.” you fiddle with the fork in your hand, poking at your food without really eating.

karina glances up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. “new girl?” she echoes, almost like she’s oblivious. she’s toying with you. you know she remembers.

you clear your throat, trying to sound nonchalant as you add, “you two seemed pretty chummy on her post.”

karina’s lips curl into a small, amused smirk. “oh, her? she’s in my biology class. we worked on a project together. no big deal.”

“no big deal?” you echo, feigning indifference, but you can’t stop the edge from creeping into your voice. “she seems pretty into you.”

karina’s smirk only grows. “what? are you jealous?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “me? jealous? please. i just thought it was interesting, that’s all.”

karina sets her phone down and leans in closer, resting her elbows on the table, her gaze never leaving yours. “you’re cute when you’re jealous, y/n.”

your cheeks flush instantly at her words, but you refuse to let her see how much she’s getting to you. “i’m not jealous,” you grumble, though even you can tell it sounds unconvincing. “i just don’t like the idea of you being so... friendly with random girls.”

karina tilts her head, her gaze softening slightly. “random girls? she’s just a friend, y/n. we worked on a project together, nothing more.” she sounds sincere, but her playful smirk never fully disappears. it’s like she’s reveling in how worked up you’re getting.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, playing with the edge of your sleeve, “she looked pretty cozy for ‘just a friend.’”

karina leans even closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. “you know,” she says, eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “if you want my attention, all you have to do is ask.”

your breath catches in your throat. you’re not used to karina being this direct. she’s always been confident, sure, but this—this teasing, almost predatory energy—is making your heart race in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“who said i wanted your attention?” you try to snap back, but your voice is quieter, weaker, and you can tell karina’s picking up on it.

karina leans back, her smirk widening as if she’s won some silent battle. “oh, trust me, y/n. i can tell.”

you huff, crossing your arms tighter over your chest, but you don’t argue further. the truth is, you *do* want her attention—have wanted it for a while now. but admitting that feels too much like giving her the upper hand, and you’re not about to hand that over so easily.

karina watches you for a moment, her eyes twinkling with amusement. she knows exactly how to push your buttons, and she’s enjoying every second of it. “don’t worry,” she says, voice softer but still teasing. “you don’t have to be jealous of anyone else. i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, trying to keep the blush from creeping up your neck. “i’m not jealous,” you insist, but even you can hear how weak it sounds now.

karina just chuckles, shaking her head as she goes back to her phone, but not before giving you a knowing look that makes your heart skip a beat.

“sure, y/n,” she murmurs. “sure.”

the sound of the door dings again, the cheery chime contrasting sharply with the heavy sigh you can’t help but let escape your lips as you settle back into your chair, stirring your iced latte without any real interest. the hum of the coffee shop, alive with the chatter of customers and the clinking of dishes, fades into a dull background noise as your attention drifts elsewhere. your sister, ningning, somehow managed to drag you into this little outing with her friends—definitely not the most thrilling way to spend your weekend. sure, the place is cute enough, but after an hour of listening to them ramble on about the latest trends and drama, you feel like you might just slip into a coma.

“thanks again for dragging me here, ning,” you mutter under your breath, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “really doing wonders for my social calendar.”

ningning, ever the optimist, just rolls her eyes playfully, busy laughing with her friends as they chat animatedly about something you couldn’t care less about. you zone out, drumming your fingers against the table as the door dings again, signalling yet another group of people entering.

your gaze drifts lazily across the table to where karina is sitting, completely engrossed in conversation with the new girl—some blonde transfer student who’s been soaking up attention like it’s her job since she showed up. karina, for her part, seems to be enjoying it far too much. she leans in a little closer, her expression relaxed, laughing at something the blonde said.

you can’t stop the eye roll that follows. typical.

karina’s never like this around you, but here she is, laughing like she’s never had more fun in her life. you shift in your seat, your annoyance simmering as you watch the two of them. they’re sitting just a little too close, and karina’s smile is just a little too bright. you tap your fingers impatiently on the table, waiting for the conversation to shift back to something even remotely interesting, but no one else seems to notice the elephant in the room—you.

with every joke exchanged between them, your patience wears thinner, until you just can’t hold back anymore. the sarcasm slips out before you can stop yourself.

“wow, karina,” you say, your voice dripping with faux enthusiasm. “you and your new bestie seem to be having such a great time. should we give you two some space? maybe you’d prefer to continue this riveting conversation alone?”

the table falls silent instantly. ningning’s eyes widen, and the other girls glance at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to react. karina, though, barely blinks. she turns her head toward you, raising an eyebrow, and the corner of her lips twitch as if she’s more amused than annoyed.

“what’s your deal?” she asks, her tone as casual as ever, like your little outburst barely registered. she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as if to match your stance.

“my deal?” you echo, letting out a scoff as you lean forward, resting your chin in your hand. “oh, nothing. just admiring how fast you make friends. must be nice, really.”

karina’s eyes flicker with amusement as she glances between you and the blonde, who’s now awkwardly fiddling with her coffee cup. “oh, come on, y/n,” she says, her voice smooth, almost teasing. “are you really that bothered?”

you tilt your head, giving her a saccharine smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “bothered? no, not at all. just enjoying the show.” you gesture loosely to the two of them, adding, “it’s like a cute little rom-com, right in front of me. really, I’m thrilled for you.”

karina narrows her eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. “you’re jealous,” she states plainly, not a question—more like she’s calling you out, the way she always does. and it infuriates you.

you scoff again, louder this time, and toss your hair over your shoulder with dramatic flair. “me? jealous? of that?” you glance at the blonde, who’s now clearly uncomfortable but doing her best to pretend she’s not. “please. I just think it’s cute, that’s all. watching you two pretend you’re starring in some hallmark movie.”

karina just chuckles, leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table as she fixes you with an infuriatingly calm stare. “yeah? well, from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you’re the one starring in a soap opera. all that drama for nothing, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, pushing your chair back slightly, but you can’t help the way your heart races as karina’s gaze stays locked on yours. she’s always been able to get under your skin, and you hate it. hate how she can stay so calm and collected while you’re practically fuming.

“right. because you know me so well,” you fire back, crossing your arms again, this time more defensively.

karina shrugs, that lazy smirk still on her lips. “i do know you,” she says, her tone annoyingly confident. “better than you think.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to snap again. you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s right. the truth is, you are jealous. but admitting that would feel like handing her a win, and you’re not about to do that.

before you can come up with a witty retort, karina glances over at the blonde, who’s now pretending to check her phone. “look, y/n, we’re just talking. it’s really not that deep.”

“right,” you say, drawing out the word. “just talking. and all that laughing and flirting? just casual, right?”

karina chuckles, shaking her head slightly. “flirting? really, y/n?” she leans forward a little more, her voice dropping, making your pulse quicken. “if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it.”

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat as her words hang in the air between you. she’s toying with you, and you hate how easily she can make your heart skip a beat.

“oh, please,” you finally manage, but your voice is a little quieter now, a little less confident. “you’re full of it.”

karina’s smirk only widens. “maybe,” she admits, leaning back in her chair, looking way too pleased with herself. “but it’s fun watching you get all worked up.”

you open your mouth to fire back, but nothing comes out. you’re too caught off guard by how effortlessly she’s turned the tables on you.

arriving back at the estate, you rush off the jeep, leaving ningning in the driver’s seat, and stomp towards your room, heart thudding in your chest. your heels click angrily against the marble floor, and the second you reach your bedroom, you throw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the plush pillows. a muffled scream escapes your lips as you let out all the pent-up frustration.

how dare she? how could karina just... dismiss your feelings like that, in front of everyone, no less? it’s not like you even wanted her attention in the first place—at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself all this time. but seeing her with the blonde girl, laughing and leaning in like that, had struck a nerve you didn’t know was so raw.

you flip over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as you replay the entire café scene over in your head. "if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it." you mocked the girl in a baby voice

god, why did she have to say that? why did she have to be so smug about it? it’s infuriating how easily she gets under your skin, how she knows exactly which buttons to press.

staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in your head like a bad movie. karina had been laughing, smiling, totally caught up in her conversation with the blonde—leaning in, listening like whatever that girl had to say was the most interesting thing in the world. it was infuriating.

she never paid attention to you like that. at least, not lately.

you grab a pillow and smother your face with it, trying to block out the feelings that have been gnawing at you ever since you stormed off and practically slammed your bedroom door behind you. karina had a way of getting under your skin, but today? today, it had hit differently. you weren’t just annoyed—you were jealous. though admitting that, even to yourself, felt like swallowing glass.

your phone buzzes on your nightstand, and for a moment, you think about ignoring it. probably just ningning wondering where you went off to, or one of her friends in the group chat. but something nags at you, and before you can stop yourself, you reach for it.

karina’s name lights up your screen.

karina: open the door. i’m outside.

your heart skips a beat. you scramble out of bed, peeking through the curtains, and there she is. leaning against her car, hands shoved in her pockets, looking like she just stepped out of some cheesy rom-com.

you hesitate for a second, debating whether to leave her out there or actually let her in. your stubborn side screams to make her wait, but you know you can’t. not when she’s standing there like that, looking all casual and unbothered, the way she always does.

with a huff, you stomp downstairs and swing open the door, crossing your arms defensively. “what are you doing here?”

karina glances up, her cool gaze locking onto yours as she pushes off the car and steps closer, hands still buried in her jacket pockets. “we need to talk.”

“talk about what? you had plenty to say earlier with your new bestie,” you snap, immediately feeling childish, but unable to stop yourself.

karina doesn’t flinch. instead, she steps up onto the porch, her tall frame making her presence even more commanding. “y/n, cut the crap. you’ve been acting weird all day. i’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“nothing’s going on,” you lie, turning your back to her, but you don’t close the door. “i just don’t want to deal with it.”

“deal with what?” she presses, her voice dropping lower, firmer, in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “you were practically fuming back there. don’t act like everything’s fine.”

you bite your lip, annoyed that she can see through you so easily. “i said it’s nothing, karina. you’re making it a bigger deal than it is.”

“y/n, stop,” she says, her tone now leaving no room for argument. she steps inside, her boots making soft thuds on the hardwood as she closes the door behind her. “tell me what’s really going on.”

you glare at her, your defences still up, but you can’t help feeling cornered. her calm, unwavering stare makes your heart race, and you hate how easily she can unsettle you.

“fine,” you snap, folding your arms tighter across your chest. “you wanna know? you ignored me all day for that blonde, and it pissed me off. happy now?”

karina raises an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as she steps even closer. “that’s what this is about? you’re jealous?”

you scoff, turning away from her. “no, i’m not jealous,” you mutter, but even you don’t believe your own words. “i just... i don’t get why you were all over her. it was annoying.”

“i wasn’t all over her,” she says, her voice calm but firm as she steps around to face you again. “we were just talking.”

“right,” you mumble, still refusing to meet her eyes. “just talking. whatever.”

karina sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “y/n, why won’t you just admit it? you’re upset because you like me.”

your breath catches in your throat, and you freeze. her words hang in the air between you, and for a second, you wonder if you heard her wrong.

“what?” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

karina steps closer, her hand lifting to gently tilt your chin up so you’re forced to look at her. her dark eyes are intense, and for once, there’s no teasing smirk on her lips. she looks serious—dead serious. “you heard me.”

your heart pounds in your chest as her fingers brush against your jaw, sending a wave of heat rushing through you. this is not how you expected the conversation to go. you try to come up with a retort, something sarcastic to throw back at her, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting.

“karina, i...” you start, but the words die on your lips.

she’s so close now, her presence almost overwhelming as she looks down at you, waiting for your response. you swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze pressing down on you.

“you don’t have to say anything,” karina says softly, her hand sliding down from your chin to rest on your shoulder, grounding you. “but you need to stop pretending. i know how you feel. i’ve known for a while.”

you blink up at her, stunned. “what?”

karina smiles, just a little, but it’s softer than her usual smirk. “i’m not blind, y/n. and i’m not stupid. you’ve been acting like this for months.”

“acting like what?” you ask, your voice sounding small even to yourself.

“like you’re trying to push me away,” she says, her hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “but i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, feeling tears of frustration welling up in your eyes. “i’m not trying to push you away,” you mumble. “i just... i don’t know how to deal with this.”

karina sighs softly, stepping even closer so there’s barely any space between the two of you. “then let me help you deal with it,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“i don’t want to seem needy,” you mutter, still refusing to look her in the eye.

karina lets out a soft laugh, her thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “you’re not needy. you’re just... you. and that’s enough.”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble bit by bit. her touch is so gentle, so warm, and it makes your heart ache in a way that scares you. “yeah, well... maybe i didn’t want to be needy.”

karina’s lips curve into a smirk, but it’s full of affection rather than amusement. “you’re not needy. but even if you were, i wouldn’t care.”

you scoff lightly, but the sound comes out weaker than you intend. “you say that now...”

“i mean it,” she says, her voice low as she leans in slightly. “y/n, i like you. i’ve liked you for a long time.”

your breath catches again, and this time, you can’t hide the way your pulse quickens. “what?”

karina chuckles softly, shaking her head. “god, you’re so dense sometimes,” she teases, though her tone is filled with fondness. “i’m saying i like you. more than just friends. more than anything else.”

you stare at her, your mind racing to catch up with what she’s just said. “you... like me?”

karina nods, her expression softening as she leans in closer, her forehead resting gently against yours. “yeah, y/n. i like you. so stop pushing me away, okay?”

you blink rapidly, trying to process everything. your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to pass out. “but... what about that blonde?”

karina pulls back slightly, looking at you with an amused smile. “the blonde? you seriously think i’d be interested in her?”

“i don’t know!” you blurt out, feeling flustered. “you seemed pretty into her.”

karina laughs, shaking her head. “god, y/n, you’re something else.” she cups your face in her hands again, her thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. “i was just being polite. i didn’t even remember her name half the time.”

you feel your face heat up, embarrassed by your own jealousy. “oh.”

karina chuckles softly, her gaze softening as she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to worry about anyone else,” she murmurs against your skin. “you’re the one i want. always have been.”

you bite your lip, feeling a mixture of relief and nervousness flood through you. “you mean that?”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble just a little more. without thinking, you lean in, pressing your forehead against her chest and letting out a frustrated groan. “ugh, why do you have to be so nice to me?”

karina just laughs softly, running her fingers through your hair. “because someone has to take care of you,” she teases, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “you’re such a brat sometimes.”

you scoff, but the warmth in her voice makes it impossible to stay mad. “i’m not a brat. you just make me act like one.”

“oh, i make you act like that?” she teases again, her voice full of affection as she hugs you tighter. “come on, let’s go inside before ningning sees us and starts asking questions.”

with a reluctant nod, you let her guide you back into the house, her arm draped protectively over your shoulders as the two of you walk upstairs together. the frustration and jealousy from earlier seem to melt away with every step, and by the time you reach your room, you feel lighter, like maybe—just maybe—it’s okay to let someone in, to let someone take care of you for once.

the days after karina’s confession are a blur of stolen glances, secret smiles, and moments that feel like something out of a dream. you still can’t quite believe it, but here you are—walking through the school hallways with karina’s arm slung casually over your shoulders, her presence as grounding as it is exciting.

and it doesn’t take long for people to notice.

whispers follow you both as you navigate the halls, and it’s not hard to tell what everyone’s talking about. the once-rumored, now-confirmed it couple—you and karina. some people stare in disbelief, others in envy, but you don’t care. karina, as always, seems unfazed, her usual calm, confident demeanor only heightened when she’s with you.

you find yourself tucked under her arm more often than not, her protective hold over you almost possessive but in a way that makes your heart flutter. she’s always close—walking you to class, waiting by your locker, her eyes softening whenever they land on you.

at lunch, you sit with ningning and the others, but now it’s different. karina’s hand rests casually on your thigh under the table, her thumb drawing lazy circles against your skin as she chats with the group. ningning teases you endlessly, of course, but even she can’t deny that you and karina just fit.

"you two are disgusting," ningning jokes, rolling her eyes when she catches karina whisper something in your ear that makes you giggle. "i can’t believe my best friend and my sister are the couple of the year."

karina just smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “get used to it,” she says simply, and you can’t help but blush.

the entire school knows about you now—karina’s arm around you is proof enough—but neither of you care. as long as she’s by your side, you don’t mind the attention.

421 notes · View notes

osarina · 25 days

Text

ᡣ𐭩 OFFER ME MY DEATHLESS DEATH

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: one drunken encounter with dazai sends everything spiraling. suddenly, all of your problems are catching up to you at once and you're lost as to how you should proceed... or that's not entirely true—you know how you're going to proceed but it's impossible for you to come to terms with how far you've let this go.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: sorry that i haven't really been active this week </3 i've been so busy. ill try to get to asks and everything soon. forgive me</3 i hope you guys enjoy part 5, i rlly had fun writing this chapter. as always, comments and reblogs appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. reader and dazai argue, reader is a bit intoxicated, dazai heavily implied suicide attempt (not outright said/described bc he can't remember, but he assumes that's what happened) & he dissociates, dazai is in a pretty bad mental state the first half of the chapter, i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

You stopped seeking him out after that night.

Dazai sits in his apartment, knees curled to his chest and back pressed against the wall. He has to forcibly keep his breath steady—his homework for his engineering class is discarded somewhere to his left, he’d been working on it for class tomorrow before he made the mistake of checking his phone and seeing that you’d once again stopped reading his messages.

Two days straight now of silence on your end. He could go to your apartment like he’s been doing for the past two weeks but every time he tries to push himself to his feet with the intention of going to you, he finds himself rooted to the ground. Your words ring damningly and persistently through his head—how you told Nakahara Chuuya that you’re only doing this because he found the proof of your occupation, how you told him that you tried to cut him off.

Dazai knew what he was doing by using the video as leverage over you. He knew he was forcing you into indulging him, that he was backing you into a corner, but he’d allowed himself to be blinded by your treatment of him.

Even if it was coerced, no one has ever treated him the way you do—you remember the things he tells you off-handedly like he matters and you buy him the things he wants without him having to say anything like you care. You’re gentle with him—Dazai has only ever experienced bruising touches; Oda and Ango weren’t physical people and he can hardly remember his mother. He remembers the way his aunt dragged him out of the car kicking and screaming, tossing him to the ground in Suribachi before driving away. He remembers all of the nights he would get drunk at bars, ending up in strangers’ beds and waking up with a body that ached painfully and dark marks littered across his bandaged skin.

It’s hard to remember that you don’t actually want him when you treat him the same way he’s dreamed someone would treat him one day. It’s hard to remember that you turn your head away when he leans in to kiss you, that you ignore his lingering touches and change the subject whenever he almost gathers the nerve to bring the topic up to you.

You don’t want him.

He’s forcing you to do this by using the video as leverage.

You don’t want him.

He rests his forehead on his knees. That gaping hole in his chest that had started to return that night after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment is all consuming now. His entire body feels numb and prickly, he feels uncomfortable in his own skin.

He needs to put a stop to this.

His gaze draws from his knees to the floorboard he’s hiding the flash drive under. He could just… get rid of it. Get rid of it and disappear—you probably wouldn’t even notice. Maybe you would, he remembers how you came to his apartment when you hadn’t heard from him after sending the couch. Then again, you might’ve only shown up because you wanted to lie about why you were cutting him off. Dazai just doesn’t know with you.

Maybe he should just go to talk to you.

But if he talks to you… and the thought of leaving his apartment right now…

Dazai sighs, leaning back against the wall, tilting his head to look up at the ceiling, weighing both options carefully before coming to a heavy decision.

You’re not in your apartment when he gets there.

Dazai would usually wander around and find something to make himself busy with while he waits for you. You have a piano on the opposite side of the room that he sometimes likes to fiddle with—he’s taught himself a few basic songs while waiting for you to get back from work the past few weeks. He ordered a gaming console and a few games to go along with it when you made the mistake of leaving your laptop open last week, but he doesn’t even have the energy to go look for one; not that any are even particularly standing out to him. Sometimes, he just snoops around, but his legs feel like lead, like they’re bolted to the ground, so he just sits on your couch and stares at the black television screen as the minutes tick by.

He doesn’t even know how long he’s been sitting there—too long, it was still light out when he walked his way over to your building in Naka-ku and the sun had set a long time ago. He’s never felt lonely in your apartment before; in fact, he usually seeks out your apartment because he feels lonely and whether you’re here or not, it eases the void that grows in his chest.

But now? Each passing second, he feels colder and colder. A part of him thinks that he should take this as a sign and just leave, but his body is uncooperative, keeping him rooted to your couch as he awaits your return.

He’s planned out what he’s going to say to you; he’s rehearsed it in his head so many times that he thinks he could say the dreadful words while sleeping. Now, he just-

Dazai’s head snaps to the side when he hears the fateful ding of the elevator arriving at your floor. His eyes widen and his tongue swells with anxiety as he stares at the doors, his breath slows and his fingers bite into his pants as he waits to see you step into the room but when the doors finally start to slide open, he freezes when he hears laughter.

“I can’t stand you,” an unfamiliar male voice snorts and Dazai’s mouth dries as his gaze darts around, trying to figure out what to do. The last thing he wants is for a repeat of the other night—if this is another one of your mafia friends, Dazai has to move, but he doesn’t know where to go.

His gaze settles on a nearby hall leading to the bathroom and an unused room—it’s closer to him than the kitchen, he’d never make it to the kitchen because he’d have to go right past the elevator. His legs feel so heavy that it’s an effort for him to push himself to his feet. He almost stumbles right over them as he rushes into the spare room, keeping the door cracked open so he can hear and see what’s going on.

He peeks carefully through the crack, watching as two men enter your apartment—you’re with them and Dazai’s chest tightens painfully at the sight of you. You’re smiling as you lean against one of the men—Dazai recognizes him as the man who had come with you to his apartment complex the first time, he’d been waiting by the car for you—and you’re dressed prettily in a short black dress. You’re so dazzling to him that Dazai nearly tumbles right out of the room he’s hiding in, but luckily, he’s drawn out of his dazed state by another unfortunately familiar face: Nakahara Chuuya, the executive who had been at your apartment the other night.

Dazai quickly leans back into the room when the ginger’s eyes snap down the hall as if he could sense someone watching him. He lets out a puff of air as he looks around the empty room—he’d looked in here before when he first started coming to your apartment, but had been sorely disappointed by the fact that there was nothing in the room for him to snoop around in.

Now, he blinks because while the room is still mostly empty, there are some tools in here as if you’d had someone come in to take measurements to start building something in there. His gaze slides from the far wall to the one nearest to him, dragging his feet against the wood floors to slide his fingers against the lines drawn on the wall in pencil, realizing that it’s about the same size as the piano in the other room.

His throat tightens as he remembers your offer from the other day, wondering if you’d gone ahead and started having it done even after the argument with Chuuya and Dazai not showing up for two days.

God, he doesn’t understand you—he doesn’t understand you at all. He starts to doubt every conclusion he’s come to the past two days because why would you go to these lengths for someone you don’t care about? For someone who’s forcing you into indulging him through blackmail? It doesn’t make sense, Dazai has never had so much trouble reading someone before you.

He leans against the wall, lashes lowering as he looks down at the floor. He doesn’t know what to think and now his well-rehearsed speech starts crumbling in his head. Distantly, he can hear the conversation between you and the other two mafiosos—you’re talking about something happening in Tokyo and Dazai wonders if it has anything to do with that argument from the other night.

But regardless of the topic of discussion, what matters more is that you sound happy. Your voice is light and airy, and you seem entirely unbothered by the fact that you hadn’t seen Dazai in days. Dazai doesn’t think you’ve ever sounded so happy with him before and why would you when he’s blackmailing you? Your laughter rings bright and pretty like a chime and Dazai feels sick to his stomach at the thought of you laughing like that for someone else; he imagines the way your laughter will fizzle when you see him, all of the liveliness in your face dying at his unanticipated appearance.

It feels like an eternity and all too soon at the same time when Dazai finally hears the two leave. He takes one deep breath, preparing to force himself out from where he’s hiding but then freezes at the sound of you raising your voice.

“Dazai, you can come out now.”

He blanches, staring at the partially closed door in front of him, half-debating on not even coming out because how did you know he was here? He thought he’d been careful, there’s-

“I know you’re somewhere in here, the cushion was warm where you were sitting.”

Dazai has half a mind to throw himself out of the window.

He takes in a deep breath as he pushes the door open, stepping out into the hallway that’s suddenly too cold and all too short. He swears it was twice as long when he was stumbling from the couch to hide in the spare room. His feet scuffle against the ground as he walks forward, not coming any closer than where the hallway meets your living room.

You’re laying on the couch he’d been sitting on, head resting back against the pillows and a curious expression on your face as you watch him. He can’t read it—if he didn’t know any better, he’d almost say it was fond, but he refuses to let that hope bubble up into his chest only for it to be crushed again. He thinks he should say something, tossing around a few options in his head, but he doesn’t get the chance to.

You hold out your hand to him. “Come here,” you say.

Dazai hesitates, eyes lingering on your extended hand before flitting back up to your face. He shouldn’t—he knows he shouldn’t—but he finds his feet moving forward before he can stop himself. He stands in front of you awkwardly for a moment, not sure what you want from him, but then his eyes shoot open when you reach out and grab his wrist, tugging him forward onto the couch with you.

He pretends he doesn’t yelp when he lands on top of you, face flaming up when he shifts himself into a sitting position so that he’s straddling your waist, trying not to drop all of his weight onto you. He also pretends that he’s not entirely thrown off by the way your hands rest on his thighs, absently running them up and down the sides of them.

“Where have you been the past few days?” you ask him quietly.

Dazai’s blood pressure spikes at the curious look you give him, as if he hadn’t been texting you for days with no response. He can smell the alcohol on you now that he’s closer and he wonders how much you drank—he thinks that’s probably why you looked so fond before and that’s probably why you’re suddenly being so touchy with him, it has nothing to do with him. That empty feeling in his chest starts to return.

He should have just left, should have just destroyed the flash drive and disappeared.

“I texted you,” he replies tightly, feeling wildly uncomfortable as he’s unable to get a hold on the way he’s spiraling internally. “I can see you’ve been busy though.”

You tilt your head to the side as if you’re unsure of what he means and Dazai almost wants to get up and leave but the feeling of your hands on him, his lower body pressed to yours, it leaves him dizzy and slow. His breath catches as your hands slip beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing out against his bandaged sides, thumb drawing slow circles over the covered skin as if trying to calm him down.

Dazai thinks he might hate you.

He thinks he might hate himself more because it works. His heartbeat slows and relaxes into you a bit more. He wants to take you by the shoulders and shake you, wants to demand answers, wants to know if you actually care about him or if this is all just some big show for the flash drive.

“I haven’t looked at my phone,” you finally say. “I’ve been the one dealing with the issues in Tokyo. It’s just been meeting after meeting the past few days. I thought you’d be here when I got back but you weren’t.”

Were you waiting for him? He wants to ask. Expecting him? Or are you just saying that because you can tell he’s unhappy and don’t want to deal with his attitude? Dazai just doesn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate with your hands on his body.

“Can we talk?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments.

“What about?”

About the flash drive. About you. About him. Dazai doesn’t know—about everything. So, instead he just says: “About this.”

Instantly, you turn your head away from him and Dazai’s frustration rises at your attempt at blatantly ignoring him. He reaches out to grab your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him and Dazai’s breath catches when your lidded stare lands on him.

“I’m drunk,” you tell him flatly. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Bullshit,” Dazai immediately snaps, the pads of his fingers digging a bit too hard into your cheeks but you’re unfazed by it, staring up at him with an unreadable expression. “I think-”

Dazai doesn’t even have the chance to finish his sentence because you’re pushing yourself up from your laying position, one hand slipping out from his sweatshirt to cup the back of his head, the other still firm on his hip as you drag him down against you. Dazai’s breath catches when you press your lips against his, lashes fluttering shut. The hand on his hip slides around to his back, holding his body flush to yours—he lets out a low moan into your mouth when you nip at his bottom lip.

No, he thinks hazily, trying to push himself off of you but instead, his hands cup your cheeks and he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. Your tongues dance in a way that leaves him dazed, it feels almost intimately familiar to him, somehow so in tune with one another that it’s like you’ve kissed hundreds of times before.

He shouldn’t be doing this, he knows this. You said it yourself that you’re drunk, he knows you only kissed him to get him to stop talking but…Dazai sighs into your mouth when he feels the tips of your finger card through his hair, feeling you shift beneath him to let his hips slot between your legs.

But isn’t this what he’s wanted this whole time?

Aren’t you finally giving him what you’ve denied him for weeks?

Your lips are intoxicating against his, and not because of the gin staining your tongue, he can hardly focus on anything with the way your tongue traces the back of his teeth, dragging against the roof of his mouth. He groans when you shift beneath him, one leg hooking around his waist. He separates his lips from yours to gasp for breath.

Shit, he thinks, lips parting when you kiss his jaw, trailing your lips to his ear to suck gently on the skin there before kissing slowly down his neck. He swears his entire body is on fire, breaths quick and shuddered; his mind feels so muddled and hazy that he has to actively tell himself to put a stop to this and even that is almost not enough.

It takes all of his willpower to push himself off of you, still breathing heavy, lips wet and swollen, his whole body tingling everywhere your lips and hands had touched. You stare up at him and Dazai’s body aches with need when he sees you’re nearly as breathless as he is, your own lips wet from his, eyes a bit glazed over. Heat burns in his lower abdomen but he can’t, not when he knows you’re drunk and not when he knows you’re only doing this to get him to stop talking.

Before Dazai can say anything, you look away from him again and he knows that it’s over.

“I’m tired,” you say. “Help me get to bed. We can talk in the morning.”

Dazai’s lashes lower as he nods, leaning down to help you to your feet. Even with your heels kicked off, you wobble on your feet, so he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady. The silence is almost foreboding as Dazai guides you up the stairs to your bedroom; you don’t make any move to break it, so Dazai does.

“We’re not going to talk about it in the morning, are we?” he asks quietly, looking down at you. You don’t look up at him and Dazai just wants you to at least look at him so when he gets you to the door of your bedroom, he stops and looks at you. You still don’t look at him. “Can you at least look at me?”

Dazai thinks he might be sick from the way you have to seemingly force yourself to look at him. Even drunk, he can see the displeasure plain on your face and it makes him want to curl in on himself again.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Dazai,” you finally say, your voice is tight. “I want to go to bed.”

“I want to talk about it,” Dazai stresses. “I-”

Frustration flies across your face, emotions loosened in your intoxicated state. You turn away from him and slam open your bedroom door and Dazai winces, taking half a step back.

“It’s always what you want, Dazai,” you hiss.

Dazai’s heart sinks, shaking his head because he doesn’t want to hear where you’re going with this. “Stop.”

“For weeks, I have been catering to what you want and now I don’t want one thing and you throw a fucking tantrum over it. I don’t want to talk about this—I don’t want to talk about it now, I don’t want to talk about it in the morning, I don’t want to talk about it. Can you just leave it be?”

Dazai takes another step back, staring at you silently. His ears ring as your words echo through them and though he can watch your face shift from frustration to guilt, it doesn’t process in his head—not really, not when all he can hear are your words on repeat over and over again.

You reach out for him, fingers curling around his wrist but Dazai pulls his hand back, taking a step away from you, closer to the stairs. All of his fight or flight instincts are triggered, his body itches to run, to flee downstairs and get out of your apartment, but his legs are uncooperative, feet rooted to the ground as he stares at you blankly.

“I didn’t mean that,” you say after a few moments. “I didn’t-I just-”

“It’s okay,” Dazai replies, voice a bit distant even to his own ears. “I’ll drop it.”

“Dazai-”

“Let me help you get into bed,” Dazai interrupts, forcing a smile onto his face as he pushes himself forward. His movements feel weird and clunky, unnatural almost, but he successfully leads you into your room, pulling back the sheets to help you into bed. “C’mon.”

He helps you slip into the bed and pulls the sheets over you, there’s still that hazy look in your eyes as you look up at him and Dazai tries his best to make sure that the smile on his face doesn’t look strained. He’s pretty sure you can see through it even while drunk. You reach out to grab his wrist again and this time, Dazai doesn’t pull away.

“Stay here tonight,” you say quietly. “Lay down with me.”

“I have class in the morning.” Dazai shakes his head, as much as he might ache to stay in your presence, he thinks if he stays in it a moment longer, he might actually break down—he can’t get your words to stop echoing. Only a steadily crumbling dam is holding back the torrent of emotions ripping apart his chest. “I can’t.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“I have to get all of my books, and finish my homework,” he tells you. “I can’t.”

“We’ll leave early,” you press, leaning up on your elbows. “C-”

“I can’t,” Dazai stresses, taking a step back and shaking his head. “I can’t. I have to go.”

You look conflicted, but to his relief and distress, you finally let go of his wrist. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. After your classes. You finish at three, right? There’s a restaurant in Minami-ku I’ve been meaning to take you to.”

Dazai’s throat spasms as he swallows, shaking his head again. “I’m busy after class tomorrow. I have meetings for group projects.”

“When are they over? I’ll pick you up after.”

He feels a bit sick to his stomach as he looks up at your ceiling, in turmoil and unsure as to what to do. He knows you’re not doing this because you feel bad—not really—he knows it has to do with the flashdrive. He knows it. He thought it would be easier having someone to talk to, someone to hang out with, even if it was only because of blackmail because at least he would have someone, but he was wrong because this is a type of torture that Dazai just can’t endure any longer.

“I’m not going to want to do anything after, I’ll be drained.”

“Then we don’t have to do anything.” God, you won’t stop trying. You won’t stop trying and Dazai knows that if it wasn’t for that stupid flash drive, you’d have laughed in his face and told him to get out. He thinks he might actually throw up. “I’ll pick up the food before going to get you. We’ll stay in. Watch a movie.”

“No,” Dazai says, raising his voice now. “No. I’m just going to go back to my place. I have to go.”

Though his legs feel like lead and his body still yearns to be near yours, he forces himself to leave your room. Doesn’t look back when you call his name. Doesn’t hesitate at the top of the stairs when you tell him to wait. He nearly stumbles as he makes his way down the stairs and when he gets to the bottom instead of rushing toward the elevator, he sits on the arm of your couch, resting his head in his hands as he tries to gather his thoughts.

You’re so frustrating. So impossible to read that it’s beginning to take a toll on Dazai. He doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant on not having a conversation about all of this. He thought you would’ve wanted to have a conversation about it for the chance of getting the flash drive away from him.

You’ve done everything in your power to avoid any physical contact with him until now; only finally giving it to him when there’s an issue you really don’t want to talk about to try to distract him. Hell, you’d prefer to even talk to him about mafia business—you vented all about the issues with the Shimazaki-kai to him, and Dazai would think that’s the last thing you’d want to talk to him about.

It doesn’t make any sense.

He’s drawn from his thoughts at the sound of something buzzing against the ground a few feet away, frowning as he looks around and spots your phone on the ground, probably lost in your drunken attempts to get to the couch. He hesitates before pushing himself off the arm of the couch, taking a few steps toward it before kneeling down to pick it up.

He chews at the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the home screen of your phone, staring at Nakahara Chuuya’s name in the text notification. He knows that he shouldn’t go snooping. He knows it.

He does it anyway.

He spares one last glance up the stairs before unlocking your phone with the code he’s seen you put in hundreds of times by now, clicks on your message app and lets out a puff of air when he realizes that no, you hadn’t been lying. You have at least twenty unread message threads—Dazai’s is pinned at the top with Chuuya’s and someone called Mori, who you’ve never mentioned to him. There’s only one message thread you’ve evidently been reading the past few days considering there’s no dot next to it: Tolstoy, the last message being from a few hours ago.

He shouldn’t look. He knows he shouldn’t look.

He clicks on it anyway.

He bites down hard on his bottom lip as he scrolls to the top of the conversation—only a few message exchanges between the two of you, but they’re decently long.

Tolstoy: Do you still want Ilya? I can have him there by the end of next week, I just need him to finish up some business in Moscow first. You: Haven’t decided. You haven’t even given me the rundown on the side effects of his ability. I’m not going to use it if it’s going to fuck up his head—stop playing salesman and tell me what’s actually up with him. No ability comes without consequences. You know that. I know that. So stop fucking around.

Dazai suddenly has a sick feeling in his stomach, vision tunneling on the ‘him’ you’re speaking of in the messages. A foreboding air settles over him, dark and oppressive, he has to physically force himself to keep reading.

Tolstoy: We don’t know of any side effects. Haven’t used it enough to figure it out. You: So, you want me to use him as a lab rat? Be real, Tolstoy. Thought you had more respect for me than that. Tolstoy: I’m trying to help you. You want that kid’s memory wiped, I can have it done for you, it’s just a matter of how badly you want it done.

Dazai doesn’t read anymore than that. He drops your phone onto the couch, takes a step back, a step away. His mind spins, ears ringing as he stares down at—he doesn’t even know what he’s staring at. His vision is swimming and blurring—with tears, maybe? Or just from exhaustion? From panic? He can’t tell but he knows he’s not breathing properly and he knows he needs to leave, everything suddenly feels too suffocating, too enclosed.

He stumbles over to the elevator, slapping the button and leaning against the wall as he waits for it to come up to your floor. It takes long—too long, each second that passes feels like an eternity and he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

There’s only one “him” that your texts could be referring to. And it makes sense—it makes sense, doesn’t it? It makes sense why you’re so willing to divulge confidential information if you don’t intend for him to keep the knowledge of it. Makes sense why you’ve been notably careless with leaving files around your apartment. Makes sense why you told him about your ability. He’d thought you were finally letting him in, letting him know you, but-but of course, you weren’t.

Of course, you weren’t.

You were just…you were just trying to keep him placated, feed him bits of information to keep him happy because you knew you weren’t going to let him keep the knowledge of it. That you were gonna wipe his memory of it, of you, and send him back into that cold, dark void that’s been following him around his entire life and-

The bing of the elevator startles him, he flinches and still, he can’t breathe. His skin feels numb and prickly, his bandages are scratching uncomfortably at the scars hidden beneath them and he can hardly see straight.

Dazai needs to go.

He needs to go.

You wake up with a dry mouth, a pounding headache and an oddly foreboding feeling hanging about you. You push yourself into a sitting position, grimacing at the sun blinding you through the window—you don’t remember much of the night. You vaguely recall leaving the club last night with Albatross and Chuuya, the two of them incessantly bitching about dealing with you while you were drunk but in your defense, you think you deserved it after three days straight of meetings with the Shimazaki-kai on behalf of the Sun and Steel.

Everything after leaving the club is a blur. You grimace as you push yourself out of bed, glancing around to see if you’d dropped your phone anywhere near the bed only to come up empty-handed. You don’t even bother to go to the bathroom and brush your teeth, anxious to find your phone and figure out what happened once you left the club.

You pray to god that it’s downstairs and you hadn’t left it at the club, making your way out of the bedroom with a sigh. You doubt Chuuya or Albatross would’ve been dumb enough to leave it there, but you’re pretty sure they were both drunk too and neither of them are functioning drunks.

You’re not even halfway through the door frame when pain shoots through your head, sharp and uncomfortable and then-

“It’s always what you want, Dazai.”

Suddenly, that foreboding feeling you awoke with makes sense. You stare ahead blankly as you remember who exactly was waiting for you at your apartment after you got back from the club. You remember the argument, you remember the crushed expression that crossed his face when you snapped at him, you remember pleading with him to stay or to at least let you take him out today and you remember him refusing, his voice pitched and cracking, wobbly, on the verge of collapse because-

Because of you.

Fuck.

It’s with increasingly more urgency now that you rush yourself down the stairs, a small lingering hope remaining that maybe Dazai had stayed in one of the guest rooms or on the couch, that you could do something to fix this before it escalates even more.

You don’t even know why you said that—it’s not like you mind giving Dazai what he wants, in fact, you enjoy it. You enjoy it a lot. You like seeing his face light up when you do nice things for him, you like when he tries to hide the way he gets all flustered, you like that he’s allowed himself to have hope with you—something he’s clearly denied himself for too long—and you what?

You ruined it because you got scared?

You ruined it because you didn’t want to talk about… whatever you have going on with him?

You ruined it because you were terrified he was going to force you to come to terms with the fact that you’re using his stupid flash drive as an excuse to indulge yourself in him. That it would take minimal effort to have it destroyed but you’re putting it off because you want to be able to rationalize what you’re doing.

You feel sick to your stomach when you realize that your apartment is empty, eyes darting around to try to find your phone. You need to call him—he told you that he wanted to be alone today, or maybe he didn’t say exactly that but he implied it, but you need to at least talk to him now that you’re sober and can think straight.

A distant part of you, a cold and logical part of you, tells you to just use this as the excuse to cut him off—you don’t need to get Ilya to fuck with his mind if he just hates you, you don’t want Ilya to fuck with Dazai’s mind. The thought of it makes your chest feel tight with guilt, so maybe you should take this opportunity for what it is, no matter how shitty it might make you feel, but-

But you won’t.

Finally spotting your phone on the couch, you snatch it up and unlock it, grimacing at the low battery percentage and then grimacing even more when there’s not a single message from Dazai lighting up your home screen. There’s seven from Chuuya, three from Albatross, and two from Mori, but you’re more concerned by the missed call from an unknown number and the unread voice message.

The foreboding feeling that has been looming only grows more intense when you click on the message for it to play out loud.

“This is Doctor Okamoto of Keiyu Hospital calling on behalf of a recently admitted patient… listed you as his emergency contact when he was brought in last night… unable to disclose any information regarding his injuries over the phone… suggest that you get here soon…”

At once, your vision tunnels and everything around you becomes white noise, your gaze is pinned on the ground, a smudge on the tiled floors as you try to keep yourself grounded because what? Dazai is in the-he’s in the hospital?

Because of you?

You hadn’t been subtle approaching him that day in the library, it’s been a lingering thought since then, wondering if unsavory eyes had caught sight of you talking to him. The bar and the cafe were different, he had approached you—if any of your enemies had happened to see it, they wouldn’t think twice about it. But you approaching him had been dangerous.

It had been a mistake.

Had it been a mistake to cost him his life?

And it’s not just that—you’ve taken him out to dinners. Picked him up at his apartment building. Places that you or your trusted affiliates own but there’s always the chance… and if he left the Port Mafia building last night in a rush, upset and not thinking straight…

Oh, you might throw up.

You’re not dressed properly. You’re still wearing your dress from last night and you fumble to put on the heels you must’ve kicked off in your drunken state. You don’t even care to get dressed, more intent on getting to the hospital and figuring out if—nausea builds in the back of your throat—if Dazai is alive, if he’s okay. You need to re-listen to the voicemail because your hearing had been unfocused and you’d only been able to catch bits and pieces of the doctor’s message.

And-

And you don’t even get into the elevator because your phone is ringing again as soon as you click the button. You don’t even look at the number before picking up, fearing that it’s the hospital again—it’s not, it’s Chuuya, and you immediately regret your decision because you aren’t even able to bark out a ‘what’ before he’s speaking.

“Where the hell have you been?” Chuuya snaps on the other side of the line. “We’ve been trying to get ahold of you for hours, we-”

“I’m busy,” you hiss right back, interrupting him. “I can’t talk-”

“You can talk,” Chuuya says harshly. “Get to headquarters. The Guild is in Yokohama now. We don’t have time to fuck around anymore.”

You don’t respond to Chuuya, heart sinking to your feet at his words, distress clawing at your chest so painfully that you think it might be easier if you just carve out your heart and toss it out the window. You hang up the phone without another word just as the elevator makes it to your floor, but instead of going inside, you make your way back up to your room, numbly changing into one of your suits so you could at least look somewhat presentable.

You hardly even recognize yourself in the mirror as you wipe off your smudged makeup from your night out. Your eyes are vacant and your expression so empty that you think you could almost be looking at a statue.

War with the Guild. Dazai in the hospital.

Everything is catching up to you at the same time and your mind is fraying at its seams, collapsing in on itself as the weight of everything bears down on you. You do your best to compartmentalize, focus on one thing at a time but you can’t even concentrate on one issue.

You try to figure out what to do about the upcoming conflict, try to determine what exactly Fitzgerald might be planning so you can figure out what the Port Mafia will retaliate with, and your mind drifts to Dazai, you wonder if he’s okay, if he’s in critical condition, if it was one of your enemies that got to him or if it was something else.

You think about Dazai, all of the fear and guilt and anxiety tearing you apart, and your mind shoots straight to the Guild. Because if Fitzgerald knows about Dazai—if he knows about Dazai—then it’s over. It’s all over. If the Guild gets their hands on him, they’ll kill him when you don’t give them what they want because you can’t give them what they want. They want Yokohama and you can’t give them that.

You can’t, not even for Dazai.

You don’t even register that you’re standing in front of the elevator again until it bings, startling you right out of your thoughts. You can’t leave the building while you’re spiraling like this—you need to get a grip on yourself, you don’t even know where you’re going yet. You need to figure out if you’re going to go meet with Mori and the other executives or if you’re going to go find Dazai.

As you step into the elevator, it takes all but five seconds for you to make a decision.

Dazai wakes up to the familiar scent of antiseptic and a citrus-scented floor cleaning solution, the air is too stale and the air-conditioning is cranked up too high. He forces his eyes open, lids heavy and uncooperative, but he immediately lets them fall shut again briefly when he’s met with too white walls and the steady beeping of the heart monitor next to him.

His throat feels swollen as he stares up at the ceiling—the last time he was here in the hospital he was seventeen and had nearly bled out in the bathtub in Odasaku’s house. The only reason he hadn’t was because Ango happened to stop by the house to pick up papers that Odasaku had left for him, finding Dazai unconscious and face half-submerged in the water. He woke up here to find both of them hovering over him, Ango concerned and Odasaku visibly upset for the first time since Dazai met him.

He wakes up alone now because Odasaku is dead and he hasn’t spoken to Ango in four years—doesn’t even know where the man is anymore, doesn’t even know if he’s alive, doesn’t want to know either.

“Dazai-sama.” He hears a nurse say from the door to his room. “You’re awake, how are you…”

The nurse’s voice becomes white noise with the beeping of the heart monitor and the vents blowing above. Dazai retreats back into his own mind—a dangerous place, but right now it’s safer than the white walls that surround him, knowing he’s going to be badgered with questions that he doesn’t want to have to answer.

How are you feeling, Dazai-sama?

What happened, Dazai-sama?

We need to ask you a few questions, Dazai-sama.

Dazai feels defeated.

His head falls to the side as he stares out the nearby window, watching as a bird swoops down in view before taking off into the sky.

He doesn’t even remember what happened. He remembers leaving your apartment, he remembers… he remembers seeing your texts, your plans to wipe his memory. And… that’s about it? He vaguely remembers the familiar feeling of his lungs burning, remembers being tossed around by the rough currents of Tsurumi River. He doesn’t remember how he got there but it’s not exactly hard for him to piece together—even now, Dazai thinks he would rather be dead than have his memories forcibly erased.

“… to know what exactly hap…”

A dark and familiar cloud settles over him. His eyes feel heavy and his chest hurts. Dazai—he doesn’t even know what to think anymore. He’s so tired that his bones ache and his muscles feel so weak that he just sinks into the stiff mattress of the hospital bed.

He doesn’t know what he expected—he thinks that to some extent he expected you to leave him. Everyone has left him. His mother, his aunt, all of the brief friends he’d made over the years before they see him for what he is, Odasaku and Ango—everyone has left him, so he knew that you would too but… in this manner? Using an ability to wipe his memory of you?

Dazai has considered it before. He’s wondered if maybe his life would be easier if he could just… forget. If he could live without the memory of everyone who has left him hanging over him. Some days, on really bad days, he thinks it might be easier. To try to make himself feel better, he thinks that maybe he isn’t the issue, maybe it’s all just a self-fulfilling prophecy, that it’s his past experiences cursing him to make the same mistakes over and over again; that without them, he might stand a chance.

But then when he thinks about it—when he really thinks about it—he knows in his heart that it’s not true, and he knows that without the memory of them all, Dazai will only feel more empty. And to think that you were trying to take his memories of you from him… without even asking, without giving him a choice in the matter… it almost makes Dazai-

“Dazai.”

His gaze snaps to the side when he hears your familiar voice come from the door leading into his room. Instantly, he’s shaking his head and looking away again, he can’t even bear to look at you but you’re walking over to him, you’re coming to his bedside, you’re sitting next to him on the hospital bed and you’re reaching out to cup his cheek, forcibly turning his face to make him look at you. You look worried, something sharp and concerned in your eyes that makes his throat swell and he wants to spit at you and call you a liar but he can only sink into your touch.

“Why are you here?” he asks. His voice is hoarse, almost painful for him to use.

“What happened?” you ask him quietly instead of answering his question—you never answer his questions, you always deflect, always maneuver around them. The ones you do answer, it’s only because you plan to- “Dazai, what happened? Are you okay?”

Dazai doesn’t know how you can look at him like this all the while planning the most diabolical betrayal that he could ever imagine. You’re either an actress deserving of international recognition or… or Dazai doesn’t even know.

“I’m fine,” he says, voice clipped. “Why are you here?”

“The hospital called me-”

“But why are you here?” Dazai cuts you off, grateful that his voice is firmer than the turmoil wreaking havoc through him. He must’ve given them your number while he was half-delirious when he was brought in—he figured that out already—but that doesn’t explain why you actually came. “Why did you come?”

“Because you’re hurt,” you say as if Dazai should believe you.

And he wants to believe you. Wants to believe that you’d come running just at the mere idea of him being hurt, wants to believe that you would care enough to come for him. He wants to believe you so bad, but he knows what he saw.

“Don’t lie to me,” Dazai tells you, finally gathering the willpower to pull his face away from where it’s resting in the palm of your hand. You don’t even let him shift away, hand slipping behind him to cradle the back of his head, fingers entwined with his hair. “Stop.”

“I’m not lying to you,” you say like a liar. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

You sigh heavily and Dazai hates the way you’re absently drawing circles against the nape of his neck with your thumb, hates how it makes him feel at ease and especially hates the way his lashes instinctually flutter shut.

“I didn’t mean what I said last night, Dazai,” you say so quietly that Dazai almost believes you. Almost. “I was drunk, I didn’t… I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care about that,” Dazai says, proud of the way his voice stays sharp and cold. “I saw the messages between you and Tolstoy. I know what you’re planning. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t even want to look at you, just leave me alone.”

You draw back at his words, concerned expression melting into a blank slate as you pull your hand away to sit back straight. Dazai misses your touch instantly, longs for the warmth to return but he forces himself to ignore it all, keeping his gaze pinned on you, watching the way your mind races behind your eyes. He wonders if you’re trying to figure out if you can salvage this, wonders if you’re going to lie.

Instead, a heavy look settles over your face as you frown, glancing back at the way you came and for a moment, Dazai thinks you’re just going to leave. You rise to your feet and words lodge in the back of his throat, preparing to spit insults at you: he wants to call you a coward, a liar, wants to tell you that you’re cruel and vile and he can hardly even stand to look at you.

But then you look back at him and hold out your hand to him. “Come on,” you tell him. “Let’s sneak you out of here… I’ll explain everything when we get out of the hospital.”

Dazai wants to be spiteful, wants to turn his head away and ignore you, wants to slap your hand and tell you that there’s no explaining what he saw.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he places his hand in yours and lets that treacherous, treacherous spec of hope bloom in his chest again.

Dazai hasn’t spoken a word since leaving the hospital. You’ve tried to make small talk with him, but every time, he just turns his head away to look out the window. You gave up twenty minutes ago and Dazai is already regretting not indulging conversation with you because the silence is agonizing. He knows he should break it, but he doesn't know how to now.

He glances at you from the corner of your eye. You’re leaning back against your seat, one hand on the steering wheel—he can’t see your eyes because they’re masked by sunglasses, but he can see the way your free hand rests on the gear stick, knuckles tense.

“What is this place?” Dazai clears his throat as he leans forward in his seat, peering out the windshield of your car to try to figure out where you’re taking him. He forces his tone to lighten, the smile on his lips strained. “Are you kidnapping me? Oh! Or are you taking me to some remote cabin to kill me? Bella, you truly know the way to a man’s heart.”

You let out a heavy sigh, one that makes Dazai toss a sweet smile in your direction.

Some type of beach house, he recognizes as you pull up a windy road to the top of a cliff looking over the water. He can see to his left a path leading down to the water and to his right a nice view of a distant pier. It’s not a large house, but it’s nice—well-kept and refurbished with a view over Sagami Bay. It’s not too far out from Yokohama, probably only a little over an hour, but considering Dazai’s never left the city in his entire life, this might be the furthest he’s ever been. He can almost feel a bit of excitement bubbling in his chest.

“I wanted to take you here, away from the city for a bit,” you finally say, fingers thrumming against the wheel of the car as you slowly guide the car up the gravel path. “So we can talk in peace.”

Your bland words whittle away his excitement and Dazai’s smile falters. He tries to distract himself with counting the strands hanging off the sleeve of his sweater but keeps losing count.

“Something you couldn’t have talked to me about in Yokohama?” Dazai asks airly as you pull to a stop in front of the beach house.

He doesn’t turn to look at you, doesn’t move until you finally get out of the car, reaching into the back seat to grab two duffle bags, nodding for him to follow you.

Wow, he thinks dryly, you came prepared.

Dazai feels distinctly like he’s walking to his execution as he follows you to the steps leading up to the house, but instead of walking up them, you toss the bags on the porch and then continue up the path.

You’re going to push him off a cliff, Dazai thinks, feet dragging against the gravel as he follows you. This is it, all of the years that he’s longed for death and it’s finally about to find him at your hands.

“I might not die from the fall,” Dazai says, words drawn long as he pouts. “You wouldn’t really leave me to suffer in freezing water, would you?”

“No,” you say, glancing back at him. He lets out a quiet breath of relief that’s quickly snuffed out when you add, “I’m not that sloppy with my kills. I’d kill you before dumping your body over the side of the cliff.”

Dazai blanches, but your lips curl up into an amused smile so he settles down, sighing as he purposely knocks his shoulder with yours.

“My bella is so cruel,” he sighs dramatically. “She hates me.”

You sigh as you reach the edge of the cliff, not turning to look at him. The wind whips around the two of you—it’s a cool, early spring night, the temperature just enough to be uncomfortable but you don’t seem bothered by it as you stare out across the water as the sun starts to set.

You’re beautiful, Dazai thinks, breath catching at the sight of you beneath the setting sun. The golden rays cast an ethereal glow over you, the wind ruffles your clothes and hair, and your expression is solemn in a way that’s become terribly familiar the past few weeks.

“I’m not going to do anything with the video,” Dazai finally says, voice quiet—finally taking the chance to say what he wanted to say last night. “You don’t have to keep… pandering to me because you’re trying to protect yourself. I was never going to do anything with it, I just… wanted you to give me a chance.”

When you look over your shoulder, you give Dazai a small, genuine smile that makes all of the air whoosh from his lungs.

“Dazai, I’ve known you weren’t going to do anything with that video since day one,” you say, amused. “If I thought you were, I would’ve had someone confiscate it from your apartment.”

Dazai’s lips part, mind racing. “But then why-”

Your smile softens at the edges and you sigh as you lower yourself down to the ground, feet dangling off the edge of the cliff. Dazai joins you, thigh brushing yours and shoulders absently knocking together. Your hands rest in your lap and Dazai’s fingers twitch to reach for yours. He only hardly refrains himself.

“I don’t remember a life before this,” you say after a few moments, a distant look in your eyes as you stare ahead. “When I was seven… eight, maybe, I was pulled out of a warzone by the current leader of the Mafia. I don’t even remember my parents—anything about them. Their names. Faces. What they sounded like, what their job was. Mori… he found me in my town sitting in the middle of a whole pile of bodies and I couldn’t even point out which pair of corpses were my parents. I don’t remember anything before him… It’s all just black. Blurred.”

Dazai stares at you, eyes a bit wide as he listens to you speak. His lips part to say something but he decides against it, instead he seals his lips back shut and presses his shoulder against yours. Mori—that was the other name pinned up with Dazai’s message thread and Nakahara Chuuya’s—he must be the Port Mafia boss. His gaze traces your face as you stare ahead, catching the melancholic expression on your face. He itches to reach for your hand.

“I could hardly remember anything about myself. My first name… that’s just about it. My new birthday became the day Mori found me, my new surname—when needed—was his, he… he became my reason to live when I had none. Gave me a purpose,” you tell him faintly. “I spent two years on a warfront trying to figure out what my ability was so I could be the finishing touches of the immortal regiment that he was trying to create. As far as I remember, all I’ve known is… this. Him.”

Dazai wants to say something but every word he tries to push out dies on his tongue. Instead, he finally does reach out to grab your hand, fingers curling around yours tightly. You look down briefly, an unreadable expression on your face before it softens and… and for a split second, Dazai can see you, he can see you: not a hardened executive of a mafia, but an eight-year-old girl, lost and confused and landing in the arms of the wrong man, and it makes him sick.

The traitorous part of him wonders if you’re only telling him this because you still plan on following through with the memory wipe, so Dazai does what he always does when someone threatens to take one of the few things he wants—he digs his claws in and doesn’t let go.

“The war ended before I could figure out how to use my ability and I followed… him to the underground. We ended up with the Port Mafia while the previous boss and his family were still leading. He was…” You trail off, frowning. “Dangerous. Yokohama was a terrible place under his leadership. He slaughtered civilians who spoke poorly about him and the Mafia, killed his own men for looking at him wrong… Mori became his doctor and for the good of the city, he decided to kill him.”

“I remember the old boss—what he did to the city,” Dazai says quietly—how could he not? His aunt was terrified of being in Yokohama because of him, was constantly talking about leaving the city… she finally did after dumping Dazai off in Suribachi and leaving him to fend for himself against the wolves. “It was bad.”

“It was,” you agree absently. “Mori—he wanted it to be as bloodless as possible. He tried every route, but the only way for it to be bloodless was if he had someone to corroborate that the previous boss died in his sleep and left the Port Mafia to him.”

Dazai almost scoffs.

“No one would believe that.”

“We’d hoped maybe one of his grandchildren would step up. Even if it was clearly a lie, people would have to listen because they were his blood,” you say with a wry smile. “They didn’t.”

“So, what happened then?” he presses when you don’t immediately continue. He frowns when he catches the sudden change in your demeanor, like you’re sick to your stomach, unable to push out the next words. He feels a bit dreadful, squeezing your hand gently.

“We had to wipe out the whole family,” you whisper, looking down at your lap, “and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s granddaughter—she was asleep, had a bear tucked in her arm and a nightlight on the right side of her bed. I slit her throat, then both of her older brothers. They were kids.”

Oh.

Dazai’s throat spasm as he swallows, the picture forming in his head cold and chilling, but instead he forces out:

“You were a kid too.”

“No, I wasn’t. Hadn’t been for a long time,” you say, voice flat, leaving no room for argument. “We hunted down the whole bloodline, immediate to extended family. Mori was insistent on it, said we couldn’t risk one of them ever returning and upending everything we’ve built. He’s still searching for some to this day just to make sure.”

That’s… foreboding to say the least. Dazai watches you carefully, the grim expression on your face and the frown on your lips. He pulls your hand into his lap, tracing your fingers gently to try to ease you and he watches from the corner of his eye as your expression softens again when you look at him. It makes his chest feel tight and fluttery.

“I was sixteen when I met Itou.” The cold expression on your face warms at the unfamiliar name. Dazai watches as the corner of your lips curve up into a fond smile, as if you’re reminiscing. “He was seventeen. We were partnered up for years. This was his beach house—or, well, I don’t know whose it was but Itou took it. He was awful, honestly. A terrible fucking person, had more blood on his hands than any other member of the Mafia, found way too much joy in tormenting people. He was awful, but he was the closest thing I had to family. He tried to show me a world beyond just… bloodshed and violence. Took me to amusement parks on days off, snuck me onto school trips with random groups of kids and told me to ‘blend in’ as training for infiltration missions, showed me how to live, not just… survive. He died on a mission a few weeks after I turned eighteen, made me promise him that I wouldn’t go back to how I used to be without him, that I’d at least try to be happy.”

Double oh.

Dazai almost does throw up now, mind drawing back to a face that has been haunting Dazai for four years now, Odasaku’s last words ring through his head painfully—a reminder of his own inadequacy, of his failure to fulfill his friend’s dying wish.

He remembers the way your face shifted when he told you about Odasaku at Kido’s Boutique and he wonders if he’d reminded you of Itou back then when he spoke of the man and his promise, just like how he was reminded now. His grip on your hand tightens unintentionally—as if you can sense his thoughts, you squeeze his fingers gently.

“I didn’t,” you say with a tight smile. “Threw myself into work, accepted that my fate was to live, breathe and die for the Port Mafia. I didn’t see the point of anything—well, not until I met you, at least.”

Dazai’s eyes flicker up to you, breath catching when you meet his gaze this time. And god, you look beautiful—so beautiful that Dazai thinks that if he dies now, he could die happy. He almost wishes that he could die now, fall off the side of the cliff with the image of you burned behind his eyelids. It would be a better death than he deserved.

“You made me happy. Make me happy,,” you tell him quietly and Dazai’s heart leaps into his throat. “So effortlessly that I can’t even understand how you do it, but it’s impossible for me to justify dragging you into this world just because I’m selfish.” Dazai parts his lips to disagree but you don’t even give him a chance to speak. “So when you came to me with your stupid blackmail, it was so… easy to just use it as an excuse for me to indulge in you.”

Dazai doesn’t get it. He still doesn’t get it. You’re sitting here talking to him, explaining everything, and Dazai still doesn’t understand. He makes you happy—he makes you happy and you make him happy, there doesn’t need to be any more complications than that. You don’t have to push him away, you don’t have to cut him off, you don’t have to use that memory wiping ability on him.

“I don’t understand,” Dazai says, voice hoarse. “You make me happy too, so why is…”

“Because Chuuya is right,” you say with a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. “The risks… Dazai, you can’t ask me to put you in danger like this. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair to cut me off because you’re scared,” Dazai counters, voice a bit pitched. “It’s not fair that you want to wipe my memory without my consent. I don’t care about danger, I don’t-”

You look at him sharply, an intense expression on your face that makes Dazai hesitate.

“I never would have done it without talking to you first,” you say tightly. “Do you really think that little of me?”

Dazai looks away, not answering the question. “I never would have agreed to it,” he replies, voice equally tight as yours. “Never. It’d be a waste of your time.”

You sigh and Dazai feels you shift next to him but he pointedly keeps his gaze trained ahead, refusing to look at you. He feels your fingers brush his cheek before the pressure becomes a bit firmer as you turn his face so that he’s looking at you. You’re so close that his nose brushes yours, the pads of your fingers are warm against his skin; if he leans in just a bit, he’d be able to kiss you.

He wants to kiss you.

“You don’t know what’s at stake,” you say softly, breath fanning across his lips as you speak. He can almost taste the mixture of mint and nicotine on your lips—you smoke when you’re nervous, he’s noticed it over the past few weeks with you. The more nervous you are, the more cigarettes you run through; he wonders how many cigarettes you’ve gone through since you’ve gotten the call from the hospital. “The danger-”

“You want me,” Dazai whispers, squeezing your hand, leaning in a bit more. “No one has ever wanted me before. Not like this. Not for me. You want me.”

The last sentence—it doesn’t come out as a statement, it comes out as a plea. He wants you to say it. You didn’t the last time, but he needs to hear it now. Desperately. His nails dig into your hands, he doesn’t even dare to breathe as he waits for you to speak.

“I want you,” you agree, voice so quiet like you don’t even dare to speak the words out loud in fear of the consequences of them. “I want you. I want you so bad that it scares me, Dazai Osamu.”

And Dazai breathes. The breath he lets out is long and shaky, the relief that sweeps over him is almost debilitating. He searches your eyes to make sure you mean it and when he only finds honesty and a type of fear that he’s never seen in you before, Dazai knows.

“You think it doesn’t scare me?” Dazai asks you, voice cracking. “Everything I ever come to want is always lost. Ever since that first day we met, I-I knew that I wanted you more than anything I’ve ever wanted before and I’ve been terrified that one day you’ll leave me. Promise me that you won’t. Promise me.”

You stare at him and for a terrible moment, Dazai thinks that you’re about to shake your head and say you can’t, but then you swallow, nod and say, “I promise.”

Dazai kisses you. And then he kisses you again. And again. And again. Until his lungs burn and he can feel your lips curve up against his and even then, he kisses you still. Kisses you as the sun sets over the bay and the moon rises above the mountains. Kisses you until the wind becomes too bitter for the two of you to stay outside and still, he smiles as he peppers kisses across your face, walking back down the path to the beach house.

He ignores how your phone has been buzzing incessantly all night, praying for at least one day of peace before reality slaps the two of you in the face again.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #dazai osamu x you

404 notes · View notes

mochinomnoms · 7 months

Note

*reads the octa kinks post*

Omg. Mating season Azul got me in his horny tentacle grip.

Like omg. Just.. just... *squeals* the things I would let that man do to me.

Just imagine mating season comes and Azul is just so damn needy. He's taking you wherever and whenever he can. On his desk, over his desk, against his door, in the shower, in the tub. You find out how good his strength actually is when he's got you bent like a pretzel, fingers digging into your hips as he's got you hoisted up and working you over. If only he had this much stamina in his PE class. But you're just a way more fascinating topic I suppose.

Praise him, praise him and tell him how amazing he's making you feel. How much you love when he works his hands on you. He'll have you like putty as he prepared you. He loves it, he also loves it when you're so blissed out that all you can do is moan for him. Call his name. Do it.

Let's not forget he still actually has to attend classes so this mad lad is horny gripping through them. Maybe he gets so wound up that he sneaks you off to a random classroom for a quickie. Has you bent over a desk or you give him a blow job to help. Don't worry. The man knows a good cleanup spell(you can't tell me he doesn't) he's not so cruel to send you off reeking of sex. Although.... Maybe he enjoys sending you off with his scent lingering on your skin. Sends you off with a pretty scarf wrapped around your neck that has his cologne. What a lovely little reminder to the others that you're taken, and maybe it helps hide any little incriminating marks(if you're into that)

That's not even touching on his mer form yet. He has you in a shallow pool, or maybe he's given you a nice long air breathing potion because now you're in a small cove nestled somewhere safe from prying eyes. Maybe it's nice and dark and the only thing you can see is the pale blue of Azul's eyes or maybe you watch as the bioluminescent patterns dance along his skin(I love me bioluminescent octatrio) Don't worry, you've got eight strong limbs working you over, each one truly seems to have a mind of their own as they work you over. This man, he's leaning back and just seems to be enjoying the show until you're begging him to fuck you properly. Who is he to deny your wish, he's such a benevolent mate, now isn't he?

orz Azul just gimme one chance pls I BEG!

Azul's never had good stamina, in the sea or out, and it shows when you're intimate with him. It's why he focuses in on making you come via his hands and mouth so much before actually getting to the main event. Poor Azulito only has one orgasm in him before he tires out, but it's a very yummy one when he's with you, and by the time he's actually fucking you, your bones are all jelly, and you're blissed out.

It's a very pleasant surprise when his mating season first comes around after you two get together. When he was single, Azul would get a bit feverish, hot and bothered, and more irritable than normal. Usually, he'd just manage with some potions and rest, but once he's gotten a mate, it's like a switch flipped in his brain.

Instead of being mildly inconvenienced, his entire body is heated and sensitive to touch, yours specifically. It's as if he's taken a high dosage of an aphrodisiac and the only cure is your gummy insides. If you two never had quickies before, you sure as hell do now. He's using you over and over on any surface in his room, office, even in a nearby empty classroom if the need to breed (ha) hits. It's enough of an issue that you both get a stern talking to by the teachers, who are recommending that you two take a rest of his mating season off as to not distract the other studies. They'll make sure to have someone bring your work over, just please go back to Azul's dorm, the beastmen and fae students are starting to complain about you two and the scent of sex.

Once he's got you in the water after that, you're getting bred over and over again and again until he's positive his seed is taken (even if you can't get pregnant). So, uh, hope you have good stamina at least, or else you're gonna have a tough time.

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto smut #omgggg azul can use me any day and bred me silly #he deserves to let loose once and a while so that he can be feral #!nsfw #!breeding kink

783 notes · View notes

tastelikezweig · 3 months

Text

SFW ALPHABET

⚠️ warnings: not edited, i do NOT feel like reading this over lol so please just point and laugh i don’t care. suggestive language :D (i do use the f word a few times, oopsy.) if anything else needs to be added, pls let me know.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

he’s a huge fan of kissing. he’s gentle. when he sleeps over in your dorm, he’ll wake you up with pecks all over your face and neck. after your matches, he’s waiting right outside the locker room ready to high five you because you’re super sweaty. not that he sees an issue with that. he would love to pick you up and spin you around, chest to chest. he’d drink a bottle of your perspiration if he could. but you don’t allow it because you feel gross when you’re all sweaty and stinky from the match you just played. he loooves to be all over you. physical touch is his love language. it’s one of the things you love most about him. you love how sweet he is to everyone. when he walks you to your afternoon lecture, he holds the door open for every single last one of your classmates. he doesn’t let you lift a finger. he thinks that you deserve to just exist and be pretty and smart and save up your energy for the sweetest make out session he has planned with you after your class is over. he loves PDA, just holding your hand as you walk through the quad, kissing your cheeks and eyelids while you both sit the dining hall. he wishes he could consume you and live in your skin. it’s so cute and teeth rotting that people hate hanging out with either of you if the other is around.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

you had begged tashi duncan to train you for upcoming finals. when your practice came to an end, her boyfriend, patrick and his friend art came to see her. you cracked jokes about being the third and fourth wheel. he told you he felt like this all the time. you joked saying how you should start your own club and leave them out. whenever tashi and patrick would exclude you and art from their plans, you met up with him and just enjoyed each other's company. he’d make sandwiches and bring mini gatorade (your favorite flavor because he remembers the small details) for you both to sit in the quad and just eat and talk all evening until it got dark out. or until tashi or patrick called either of you to hang out after their “date” (which is obviously just them fucking in her dorm).

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

again, his love language is physical touch. he loves to hold you in bed while you read a book or just to fall asleep. you’ll be laying flat on your stomach playing with his new nintendo ds he just bought - he’d just finish showering or something and he’d crawl right on top of you. towel still hanging on his waist and hair dripping water. he’d ask “can we cuddle?” and you don’t think twice about it before rolling over and embracing him. give him a few kisses on the jaw before resting on his chest and breathing him in. your scents like melatonin for each other.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

when you and art hit a year of dating, he wouldn’t shut up about marriage. you’d remind him you’re still so young and he would go, i know, but when we get older! he loves being around you, you go grocery shopping together so you can have snacks; you’d feel like husband and wife. you would both joke about baby names but the ones you actually did like (that he’d suggested) you wrote down on a little sticky note and inserted it into your diary under the page titled: little pieces of art ᥫ᭡

art keeps his dorm clean majority of the time since he’s met you. the most you’ve seen it messy is when patrick is there for the weekend or his week is super busy but he always attempts to at least tidy the room before inviting you over. art cannot cook for shit but neither can you, so your future kids are fucked. but art can make delicious sandwiches if that counts!!

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

art is the most genuine person you know and he hates seeing your eyes tear up even just watching a movie. his heart clenches at the sight. he wouldn’t want to break up with you but things are just getting so crowded in your personal lives between trying to maintain school, work, tennis, and your relationship. you picked up a job at the nearest bookstore to help pay for your school books. you weren’t necessarily as loaded as art was. he offered to help but you just couldn’t accept any handouts. it made you feel weird. you’d be so tired after your shifts or have to go straight from class or practice to work and you never had time for him anymore. a few texts throughout the week but for someone as needy as art, it wasn’t enough. you’d accidentally stand up your dates with him because you’d fall asleep directly after class. he’d be ringing your phone and you’re out like a light. you apologized a million times and he agreed to just reschedule. on your rescheduled date it was a bit of awkward silence and lots of staring into each other's eyes. i feel like we rarely see each other anymore he’d say, tracing circles on the thighs of his jeans. you tried to explain to him how hard you were trying but he just shook his head staring into the distance. attempting to stop his tears from spilling over. the breakup was mutual, with a kiss goodbye. it actually wasn’t a forever goodbye, just for a little while until things made sense again. (You had to be the reason bc he’d NEVER leave you).

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

he wants to get married as soon you both graduate from college. he’s adorable isn’t he? it’s gonna be a no. “okay fine, not yet. but don’t fall in love with anybody else. please.”

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he wouldn’t be rough with you unless you wanted him to be. 9 times out of 10 he’s very soft with you. his hands melting like butter on your shoulders when you ask him to massage them after matches. he’d run his hands up and down your back which makes you fall asleep almost instantly. he’s very kind with his words. when you’re upset about school or anything really he’s always there with a listening ear, very understanding. brushing the hair out of your face when he can tell your homework is frustrating you. suggests taking breaks which almost always just means a mini make out sesh until you remember you’re in the library and people are judging. you care about what outsiders think but he only has eyes for you, prioritizing your happiness above all else. he loves to kiss.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

his hugs are firm. you never want him to let you go. you love being in his grip. you could be standing in the dining hall line and he’ll wrap his arms around your shoulders while you wait for the line to move. when your matches are over and you’re fully showered, he’d hug you, lifting you off of the ground. when you meet up for dates or just to hang out, he’ll grab at your lower waist and sway you side to side.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

3 months in. you were laying in the grass on the quad next to tashi and patrick, enjoying the nice cool breeze and people watching. it was stanford’s 120th anniversary, so they held a firework show. as the finale was going off, art turned to you, staring into your eyes. i love you. surprisingly, you said it first. but he followed immediately after. he fell in love with you weeks ago but he didn’t wanna freak you out. so he was glad you gave him the green light.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he gets jealous, not very easily because he trusts you. it’s very rare he’ll act out but you’ll know something’s wrong when he goes completely mute. you’ll ask him if he’s okay, and he’ll respond ‘yup’ popping the p. he’s so sassy. earlier, he saw the guy you were talking to put his hand on your shoulder to whisper something in your ear. what’s the secret? did he have to put his hands on you? again, he trusted you, he just doesn’t trust them. you reassured him that the next time someone does something similar, you’ll kick them in the balls and he cracks a smile. and just like that, you’re back on his good side. he’s never upset for long.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses are sweet, tender, and so yummy. especially since he quit smoking. he uses a grapefruit flavored chapstick that he found in your desk a while ago and has just been using ever since. did i say you could have that? he just hums in response, sucking your lips in for another kiss.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

he wants two little ones. either a boy and a girl, or two girls. he plans on spoiling them rotten.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

when he spends the night in your room or you sleep in his, he’ll make your bed for you while you shower (or make up his own). it’s actually nice, because he helps pack your bag the night before with your essentials and fills up both of your water bottles. but anyway, he’ll heat up something in the microwave for you both to share until you can make it to the dining hall for breakfast. after about an hour after eating, you both go on a 30 minute run before parting ways for your classes of the day. he misses you all day until he can see your face again :((((

art donaldson: miss u so much already

you: i left 3 mins ago lolll.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

as mentioned before, he’ll help you prepare for the next day. if he sleeps over, he’ll organize your desk while you’re in the shower, you’ll brush your teeth together and do face masks on the weekends. it’s really cute. if he’s not over in your dorm, he’ll send you a cute little text telling you to have a goodnight, or call you while you wind down just to hear your voice before he closes his eyes.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he’s a pretty shy boy. when you’d first met, he kept the dialogue short to avoid coming off as an annoying yapper (which he totally is) so you did most of the talking. when he gets comfortable, during one of your first few hangouts alone - you asked if he could help with your math assignment and he agreed. you got bored instantly and started asking him a fuck ton of questions about himself. he answers everything without thinking twice. he even accidentally let it slip that he once had a crush on his best friends girlfriend (which he scolded himself for almost immediately after). you just smiled and nodded the whole time trying to watch him save his own ass.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

he’ll be waiting for you after your class and it might run over time a little bit, he’ll grab a seat on the floor in the hall or on the bench outside and just wait for you. draw little doodles of you or your favorite flowers in his sketchbook. if you text him in enough time, he’ll bring you your favorite smoothie. he can’t wait til your class is over so he can kiss your pretty face that he’s missed all day.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

art is very attentive. he knows every step in your skincare routine. he has the order memorized. when you’re done with the first step, he’s already handing you step two. he knows the gum flavor you prefer, your class schedule, your practice schedule, etc. what he doesn’t seem to remember is to put the toilet seat down after he’s done. he’d mumble sorry and then proceed to do it again 30 mins later.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

he took you to the state fair and you both stayed at the ring toss for like an hour. you were so determined you were going to win - you spent $50 for 10 tries. you didn’t even win but while you were in the bathroom, he bribed the man $100 to let him have the huge stuffed penguin that you wanted to win so bad. when you came out you screamed “did you win me this?!” he just went along with it because he adored the smile on your face and the joy in your voice, he loved the thought of him making you the happiest girl ever.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

he treats you like you’re accident prone or something like when you squat down to pick up something that fell underneath the table, he covers the sharp edges to make sure you don’t hit your head. he double checks to make sure your laces are tied on the court and you slide your foot back and remind him, you’re not a child and you can tie your own shoes!!! he just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. walks you to your dorm if it’s dark. calls you during your early morning runs without him. if you get into it with one of the girls on the team, he doesn’t intervene because you always tell him to stay out of women’s business, but if it involves a guy, he’s on that immediately. he doesn’t even want you engaging in their weird behavior. he argues for you but you’re definitely in the background ad-libbing.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he tries super hard but tries not to seem suffocating. he fits everything in his life around your schedule. he has a gift for you for any anniversary, 1 month, 1 year, birthdays, etc. he takes you out to celebrate your wins even if that just means getting you a chocolate croissant from your favorite cafe down the street. whatever you want, whenever you want it. anything to keep you happy. he wants to set the bar so high that you’re not looking any other guy's way.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

leaving the toilet seat up, going silent when he’s jealous, stepping out of his clothes in the bathroom and leaving them there in a pile, as much as you love it, he’ll drop everything for you on the spot. you’ll see him with his friends outside and go to greet them. he’ll tell you they’re going to hang out at his friends place and you mention you’re also hanging out, going to the theater with your friend and he’ll say never mind, can I go with you? and you shut it down quickly “no go hang out with your own friends!” and they’d all clown him afterwards.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he’s chill. he doesn’t really have a style, he wears whatever is clean. his closet is full of stanford merch and you tell him he needs to go shopping but he’ll say “what i’m wearing is just fine, thank you.” see. sassy.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

he literally can’t breathe without you it seems like. you’re his heartbeat. he’s feeling whatever emotion you’re feeling.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

he communicates his affection through small gestures, like holding hands during quiet walks or wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders when you’re watching a movie together. words aren't always necessary to convey his feelings.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

hates loud chewing of food, but you argue that he does it too - with his gum. defending people when he’s arguing with them ‘why do you do that?’ you just keep it real. tashi called his ball out and he was arguing that she isn’t valid, but she’s right :( it was definitely out.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

sleeps with his mouth open, so he often gets a sore throat lol, his arm draped across your chest or back. legs tangled with yours. has to be touching you in some way to fall asleep when you’re together.

sorry if this sucks, bye!

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #sfw alphabet #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers movie

219 notes · View notes

ozarkthedog · 3 months

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

summary: a carnival comes to town and the night takes an unexpected turn when you meet a strange man.

warnings: 18+ mdni. vampire!max philips x afab!reader. max being max. smut. biting. blood. memory wipe. reader is abled bodied. reader is not depicted in the moodboard. w.c. 1.6k

author's note: first time writing Max. be nice pls. thank you @ghotifishreads for letting me whine and helping me think through this fic. you’re a treasure.

-> for the summer lovin' challenge ~ carnival #4 - max philips - the quote "are you lost, my dear?" and the attached moodboard

thank you to @pedgito @chaotic-mystery @amanitacowboy for hosting this fun challenge!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬

"Are you lost, my dear?"

You spin on your feet when a smooth, self-assured voice calls your attention as you wait on the sidelines for the traveling circus to begin.

He's devastatingly handsome, with sparkling dark eyes and short brown hair; he looks out of his element in a crisp three-piece black suit with a red tie. He flashes sharp, pearly white teeth and cocks his head with a smirk.

"Not anymore." You quip.

"My name is Max." He extends a hand, and you mirror him, offering your name loud enough to hear over the cheery music blasting across the expansive tent.

"Come to the circus often?" Max asks, trailing his wild eyes shamelessly down your body. Usually, you'd be repulsed, but something about him called to you. If anything, you wanted to get to know him more.

"Actually, this is my first time." You confess.

His face twists with amusement. "Oh, a virgin. I love it."

"I never would've pegged you for a fan of the circus." Your eyes flick up and down his body.

"I actually work for the circus."

He laughs when one of your eyebrows shoots into your hairline. "It's true. Every circus needs a lawyer, just in case any incidents happen. So I travel around with them."

"Wow. I never would've thought."

He sends you yet another coy smirk. "I like keeping people on their toes. Besides, a circus is a great spot to meet new people."

"Oh yeah? Do you find yourself picking up people often?"

His gaze grows tight, and his eyes turn a faint black before he takes a slow, deep breath. "A few."

The lights flash a beat before slowly dimming, signaling the start of the show.

"Come with me. I know the best seat in the house. " He clasps his hand around yours and tugs you along behind him. You instinctively dig your feet into the ground, knowing in your heart it's not safe to wander off with a stranger, but Max turns on his heel and locks eyes with you.

"It's ok. You're safe with me."

Your resolve crumbles without a second thought, and you go willingly.

Energetic circus music blasts through large speakers as guests cheer and yell. Hidden animals roar from beyond the curtains as Max walks you, hand in hand, toward the performers-only section.

He leads you up a set of stairs and down a dimly lit hall before turning into a small, dark room with one wall made entirely of glass. It overlooks the large tent, giving you a bird' s-eye view of the circus stage.

You watch it in awe as the performers move seamlessly in their choreography and tumbling movements.

You're so caught up in all the action you momentarily forget about Max. You turn towards him, swiftly apologizing.

He brushes you off with a smile. "Don't be sorry. Enjoy yourself. I know I am." His gaze slowly travels down to your neck.

You turn back to watch the colorful sights when you feel Max step behind you. He leans his body against your back, pressing the sturdy length of him along your spine.

You suck in a sharp breath as a strong arm curls around your waist, and plush lips find the junction of your shoulder and neck. You shiver from the cold kisses that splay over your sensitive skin.

"M'm you smell good," he murmurs before licking a wet stripe up the curve of your neck. You squirm in his arms, making him hold you tighter as he grinds his growing length against your ass.

"Keep your eyes on the show," he directs, dragging his bottom lip along the curve of your ear. "Don't want you to miss a thing."

As the performers engage the audience with fire eating and

high stakes aerobatics, large hands travel down the length of your body, over your curves, before reaching under your skirt and settling between your legs.

Your belly cramps when he presses against your panties and rubs your folds hidden by the thin fabric.

As Max slips two fingers beneath the elastic and grazes your throbbing core with a brazen touch, a hushed moan slips from your throat. Your body instinctively arches toward his touch, greedy for more.

"Looks like someone enjoys being naughty with a stranger." Max purrs while teasing his fingers through your swollen folds and dragging out the slick that's dripping from your pussy.

You turn your head, desperate to feel his lips on yours, but he asks. "Eyes to the front. Don't make me punish you, Kitten."

The soft threat makes you mewl and grind against his fingers. Your cunt throbs under his touch, soaking his fingers, wishing he'd push them inside.

Suddenly, you feel a strong hand push against your upper back until your face and chest are splayed against the window. The lewd sound of sucking hits your ears, followed by a low, dark moan. "That pretty pussy is absolutely scrumptious." He groans, lapping at his soaked digits.

Your heart pounds under your ribs as you're pressed flush against the glass. Anyone could look up and see Max doing whatever he wanted with you. The thought should horrify you, but instead, your fingers spread wide against the glass, and you push back against Max's growing length.

"'Atta girl." Max purrs. You hear a zipper and a rustling of cloth before he hooks his fingers beneath your panties and pulls them to the side.

The cool glass feels like heaven against your heated cheek as he taps the bulbous tip of his cock against your shiny folds. He feels huge.

"Are you a virgin?" He hesitates, voice hinting slight concern.

"No," You whisper, eyes flicking to the side to watch as he spits lewdly where you're almost connected. Some spittle lands on your cunt, making you jolt.

"Oh, shucks. Virgins always taste so sweet." He laments before his features turn on a dime and kisses his fingers like a chef. "Then again, that pussy did taste fucking delicious."

Just as your mind begins to melt from his words, he slowly tips his hips and sheathes his length inside of you in one long, unending push.

The stretch is tremendous. Your fingers claw at the glass as he molds you around his cock like a hand slipping inside a glove. Max hisses through his teeth at the pressure before slipping a hand around to rub gingerly at your clit.

"Come on, relax for me, Kitten. I want to fuck this pretty pussy. Get 'er meowing for me."

A half-broken laugh and moan tumble from your lips as a wave of arousal blossoms in your belly. Your cunt swallows his length until you feel wiry hairs leading down to his pelvis graze the soft cheeks of your ass.

"atta girl."

Greedy hands encase your hips as he sets a steady pace, sawing his girth in and out, leaving you gasping and choking on your own moans.

Your body writhes under his touch. His balls smack thwap against your clit on every punishing drive as glistening slick drips from your weeping core, staining your inner thighs as you shove against the glass, meeting each demanding thrust.

"I found quite the meal ticket tonight," the shameless moan ends in a growl.

You're too blissed to comprehend whether that's a compliment as he splits you in half, pushing you further up the glass and closer to the impending orgasm you can feel lingering deep inside your cunt.

Max splays his body over yours; his broad shoulders encompass yours so entirely that you can't help but feel an odd sense of dread come over you.

"Oh, I've got that pussy right where I want 'er," He hisses, jaw clenching as your velvet walls quiver, greedily trying to milk his balls. His lips find your neck, slotting hurried kisses along the sensitive column. "Are you gonna come all over my cock, Kitten? Make a mess for me?"

Your head spins as you feel his teeth graze your skin. The pressure of his sharp canines sinking into your flesh sends you plummeting into a deep canyon of ecstasy. Your cunt locks around him like a vice, and a hoarse, depraved moan is pulled from your lips as he keeps a steady rhythm fucking you through the mind-bending pleasure.

Max thrusts faster once your blood touches his tongue. He greedily laps at the metallic crimson that pours freely from the tiny holes in your neck. You never register the pain. All you can sense is his bulbous crown inching further and further into the deepest part of you.

A choked grunt rumbles against the side of your throat. His hips stutter, cock drenched in your sweet cream allowing him to drive straight to the hilt before spilling his spend into your convulsing core.

Your mind goes fuzzy as you try to catch your breath. Fingers grip your chin, and your gaze lands on something from a horror movie.

A dark red stain paints the lower half of Max's jaw. His lips are flush and dripping with your blood. His tongue licks at the corners of his mouth, "Knew you'd taste as good as you looked."

You go to scream when he shakes his head slowly from side to side and tsks once more. His eyes lock on yours, piercing your soul as he speaks calmly.

"You got lost on the way to the bathroom."

You repeat what he says in a lifeless tone.

"A bug bit the side of your neck."

Again, you repeat his words.

"Now, close your eyes, Kitten."

You follow his orders before blinking them open a second later and find yourself seated among fellow circusgoers in the middle of the bleachers.

As the show continues, you rub a tender spot on your neck and spy a large glass window. You notice a handsome man smiling down at you from beyond the glass.

He winks and playfully tongues one of his sharp, pearly white fangs.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

#summerlovin24 #max philips x reader #max philips x you #pedro pascal

229 notes · View notes

officialundertakersmoocher · 2 months

Note

may i pls request a scenario with violet and afab reader where he’s drawing them nude and then smut ensues?

An Artistic Craving

yall i am so sorry for the extended break, and I hope this meets your expectations 😭

Warnings: NSFW, Nudity, +18, Slightly OOC

• • •

"Stay still, okay?"

"But, Vi, it's so embarrassing..." You attempt to cover your assets which have been shamefully exposed to his eyes in the dimly lit study room.

"Don't think of it that way... It's just a study." You tried not to ask many questions, after all, he was more versed in the arts than you were.

It was lucky that you two happened to catch this moment alone, unchaperoned. Vi, actually very uncharacteristically, was the one to insist that he needed you as a model to finish this study to complete a project he was working on for his upcoming art exam.

After all, you two had been seeing each other for a long time now and were not only comfortable enough to do such a thing, but you also just happened to owe him a favor.

This is how you ended up in such a position for your lover, spewn on a dark purple couch in a private study room near the Purple House dorms. You knew that Gregory was too shy to say so, but there are many books on campus filled with similar references free for his use. He just wanted to spend time with you in an intimate setting such as this one.

You caught him stealing glances at you every once in a while, and he could sense your growing discomfort from staying still for so long.

He left his sketchbook behind momentarily to kneel down beside you and suddenly the room felt more quiet. Your eyes locked as he gently adjusts the position of your hand, placing it under your head in a graceful fashion.

He tilts his head and he brushes a strand of hair away from your face as if to get a better view.

He tried to back away to retreat to his seat, but was caught by your hand pulling him back. He sat confused for a moment but could tell your eyes were asking him to stay.

You move yourself upwards to face him and pull him into a kiss. His lips are soft and welcoming and he eventually moves to grab your waist.

You slowly move him onto the couch with you, straddling his waist. He begins to become shy from this now suddenly risqué moment and pulls away from your lips.

"Love, I don't know if we should..." You could feel the deep heat resonating from his cheeks, so you asked him softly, "Would you like me to stop...?"

"Please no..."

You just barely hear him mutter this, but his hot breath on your neck shows you how desperate he has become.

Before you know it, there are clothes being dragged away and thrown about the room, never finding the motivation to tear your lips apart from one another. You both are stuck in an agonizing dance, waiting for the moment that you both can be as close as you desire.

The room has reached a stillness as the dim candlelight bounces off of skin, and hot breath stills in the air. You are both frozen in time, taking in the moment for the first time now, and as you do, you notice that you've never really seen your lover in such a passionate way as this.

In this position, he's kneeling his body over yours and bowing his head in a shy manor. From the silence you hear him speak softly, asking, "Is this what you want, for sure?" And you have seemingly been too caught up in your own thoughts to notice the lingering question prodding in-between your thighs. You suddenly feel a harsh flush invading your cheeks and a needy wetness in the very same place that he finds his attention.

You turn your head to avoid the embarrassment of facing him as you answer his looming question.

Your voice shakes more than you intended it to, more out of anticipation than anything else. "Yes, of course, p-please keep going, my love-"

However, he catches you off guard by lowing his head down to your thighs. His proximity meant you could feel his breath tickle your skin and it invigorated you.

He softly grazed your folds with his fingers, and slowly exploring your body until he reached the most sensitive parts of you. The moment he grazed your clit, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, which is exactly what pushed him to continue despite feeling his own uncertainty.

He follows the sounds of your sweet moans, touching you and exploring your body in ways that neither of you have experienced before. Before long you find yourself growing more in need of his touch, pulling his hands and guiding him to kiss you. You both are grasping for each others touch and cursing into the silence of this empty room when the tension reaches an all-time high. You find yourself guiding his cock lower as a sign that you are ready (or maybe as a sign that you can't wait much longer now).

He follows your lead, pushing himself slowly across your folds, letting out a sigh as he feels the warmth of your pussy against his skin. He has one hand behind your head as a comforting act as he slowly guides himself between your thighs. He watches your expression change to a grimace of pain, almost stopping himself, but instead he caresses your face in an attempt to sooth your pain. You start to adjust yourself and whisper for him to keep going, and after a few moments the pain starts to replace itself with great pleasure.

You can't help the moans that escape your lips as you grasp onto him, likely leaving scratch marks on his upper back.

However, he doesn't mind this one bit. He can only focus on this heavenly feeling that seemed to blur his vision and tingle at his senses. The pleasure became overwhelming before you could comprehend it and it feels like heaven.

The sounds that filled the room should have alerted the others of the acts you both were sharing tonight, and maybe, just maybe, you should have been more worried, but neither of you could have the gut to care. Not tonight, not when it just feels so good and your vision had started bleeding white as your bodies worked in tandem with one another.

It felt like hours before you had found yourselves cuddling under a stray blanket, skin-to-skin and feeling on top of the world. There was peace settled in the air and you held each other and shared this perfect moment.

"Did you enjoy it?" Violet asked timidly while he stroked stray pieces of hair out of your face.

"Oh course, Darling. I've never felt closer to you than how we were tonight." You looked at him so softly and left a soft peck on his lips.

"Well, thats good, because... I didn't really get to finish my painting. We may have to do this again tomorrow night..." He wouldn't meet your eyes, but you knew that if you could see them, they would have a glint of excitement in them that you only see when he looks at you.

"Well, I suppose we would have to then- For your studies, of course."

• Epilogue • Tea Time •

"So, It couldn't have been just me who heard some oddly bizarre noises coming from the art studio on the west end last night..." Edgar mused to the other prefects as he took a mischievous sip.

"Oh, how I wonder what that could have possibly been coming from..." The sound of a breaking pencil could be heard only if he listened so intently.

"Oh, I heard it, alright." Greenhill pipped in, sounding more than mildly annoyed as he completed his afternoon stretch. "Some people really need to be more considerate of the fact that some of us need to study at such late hours."

"Well, maybe some people should consider that not everyone wants to hear the sound of your 2 hour long training routine at 12am either..." Bluewer rolled his eyes, obviously not knowing what the others were exactly referring to.

"Well, In just thinking that maybe when the professors discover a certain pair of undergarments left in said art studio on the west end, they may have to cancel class this morning. If you know what I mean..." Edgar takes an extended sip of his tea and watched as Gregory excuses himself, dropping his sketchbook and seemingly headed towards the west end.

"Well, that answers that." Edgar mutters with a smirk.

164 notes · View notes

snghnlvr · 10 months

Text

6:28 pm. / yang jungwon

yang jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis: jungwon can’t stop kissing you!

extra: this was supposed to be a short drabble but i think i got carried away .. | jungwon is bias wrecking me help me | i can imagine jungwon doing this to his partner and it dreads me | thank you taylor swift for motivating me to do this instead of my homework rn <3 | someone pls agree that jungwon is taylor swift coded - he’s written by a woman!!!

likes, comments and reposts are appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

i want to wear his initials on a chain ‘round my neck not because he owns me cuz he really knows me, which is more than they can say.

“jungwon!” you called out to him, holding a necklace that had his initials in it.

after jungwon fixed his tie, his figure approached to you immediately when you called out to him.

you’ve been trying to put your favorite necklace for the past five minutes and you realized it’s been almost time for prom in your high school.so you were rushing.

jungwon actually decided to match with you, sending you pinterest inspo when texting you, “us?🥰”. he never failed to make you blush in public. you had to immediately hide your phone from your teacher, putting your hand on your mouth to prevent a smile from being noticed.

jungwon picked a dark, emerald green dress on you since green is his favorite color on you, especially his green sweater. you chose a regular suit on him, but his tie would have the same emerald color. he thought it was the best choice, yet you were happy with the results.

when jungwon picked you up from your house with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, you were in awe. he looked really good in a tuxedo that you can’t believe that he’s your boyfriend.

you’re were so mesmerized.

he looked godly charismatic because it emphasized his body well, his golden skin radiating under your door light and his perfect middle part presented to you. you can still see his natural curly hair at the ends but it made you fall in love. jungwon looked so mature that you wonder if this is how he will look like in a couple of years.

after staring at jungwon, you felt your legs getting jelly.

you were starstruck at his appreciation that you felt like crying but before you do so, you hugged him tightly with your arms around his neck.

you heard jungwon chuckling, imagining his whisker dimples appearing as he stumbled at your sudden action. his hands immediately flew to your waist incase you would trip.

when jungwon arrived to your house, he was really nervous. he thought he will be a stuttering mess when he sees you, imagining your beauty in front of him, him only. his heart was beating so fast, that he thought he will get a heart attack. he took a deep breath and rubbed his chest to ease his anxiety. you opened the door and he felt like a mess. you were shining - glowing - twinkling like a jewel.

you greeted him with a smile as usual and he almost fell down like those cartoons when the male lead faints, but thank the heavens you grabbed him before he could do so.

your parents behind you captured the moment with their phones behind the wall of the door entrance. jungwon waved to your parents, shooting them a small smile as they gladly did the same. their hearts were warmed at the sight they were witnessing.

jungwon pressed his head to the crook of your neck, taking a whiff of your body wash; a combination of cherry blossoms and blueberries. he closed his eyes for a moment before pecking your neck. it slightly tickled you.

he removed himself, still holding you by the waist. he looked down at you with a smile, “hi my pretty girlfriend.” his dimple couldn’t help themselves from showing.

you couldn’t stop smiling at his cuteness. “hi my boyfriend.” you replied back with a cheeky grin. jungwon thought you were too gorgeous. he leaned down to steal a peck, maybe three pecks. making you frozen and hoping that your parents didn’t witness that.

now here you are in the hallways, where both of you didn’t show yourself in front of others yet. you can hear the faded music but you weren’t close to the entrance where people could easily spot you; more like both of you were at the exit.

you stood in front of a circular mirror. you wanted to present yourself, jungwon didn’t mind how long you were gonna take. as long as he’s with you, he couldn’t ask for more.

your frustration didn’t help you in putting on your necklace and you felt getting sweaty from the stress, so you called your lovely boyfriend who has been inspecting the decorations all over the halls with his hands in his pockets and his boba-like eyes wandering around. you find the situation very adorable.

jungwon noticed it what you were asking for even if you verbally didn’t say it. he took your necklace, realizing that it had his initials and he smirked at your wise choice.

you looked in the mirror, seeing your boyfriend easily towering behind you and it made your heart shake. you moved your hair to one side so he can easily put it on.

jungwon slowly opened the chain as you eye his every action. you kept getting distracted by him that it was making you insane.

jungwon took a step closer to you, putting the necklace in front of you. you held your breath when the gold touched your skin.

jungwon was so attentive in making sure that the adjustment was making you comfortable. “is that alright?” he suddenly whispered, making your neck get goosebumps not from his breath but his deep voice.

you nodded and whispered, “yeah that’s fine.” you smiled at him. he couldn’t see you across the mirror but he felt it in your tone.

“done.” jungwon smiled proudly with his dimples. you exhaled as you were touching his initials on your neck, proudly displaying.

jungwon swore that you looked extra attractive.

“you’re so beautiful y/n.” jungwon suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly as he kept his head in your neck just like earlier. it felt perfect like a puzzle piece.

you chuckled at his sudden touchiness. “and you are handsome too, jungwon.” you put your hands on where his hands were on your waist, slowly rocking side to side.

“jungwon that tickles!” you pulled away slightly when you felt his kisses on the side of your neck. jungwon pouted when you pulled away.

“awe i can’t kiss my princess anymore?” you rolled your eyes at his childness. “you know what i meant.” you eyed him at the mirror.

jungwon shook his head, making his hair do a little bounce. he pulled you back in which you easily obliged. he continued planting little pecks, sometimes longer on your neck. your stomach was tingling at his lips touching your skin and the noises made your heart flutter.

you love his kisses.

you looked at the mirror at what was happening. you bit your lip at the attractive scene like it’s a manhwa. your breath was getting heavier each second has passed.

“alright you’re having too much fun now.” you removed his hands from your waist and turned around, your back pressed against your mirror. you fiddled with jungwon’s fingers.

you were about to say something, along the lines of, “let’s go” but jungwon kept staring at you with an affectionate face with his head tilted to the side, not caring about what you were saying. he was gonna to continue.

his lips were pressed into yours once again, making your legs feel like jelly. jungwon held your waist to keep you still as your arms slowly made way towards his neck to make the kiss deeper.

kissing before prom wasn’t apart of your bucket list but you didn’t mind it.

jungwon let go, leaning his forehead against you as he stared at you.

you giggled at his lips, it’s now stained in your lipstick. “now your lips are stained.” you tried wiping your lipstick from his lips with your fingers but jungwon didn’t care. he didn’t care how filthy or disgusting comments he would get from getting lipstick stains from you. as long as it was from you, he couldn’t careless. maybe that’s why you love your boyfriend a little too much heh

“you’re so touchy today, i wonder why..” you asked, eyes focused on his lips. you were making sure the lipstick was fully removed but you can’t tell if that’s his natural lip color; being swollen from your kiss or your lipstick.

jungwon tapped his fingers on your hips, slightly gripping them. “because i have the most beautiful girl in front of me.” he smile with a smug that made you laugh lightly. “mhm couldn’t help myself.” he looked proud acting like a prince.

“stop it jungwon, you gonna make me a mess before we take a step inside.” you jokingly pressed your hands against your cheeks, lightly tapping them to indicate your blushing.

jungwon smiled, staring at you with shining eyes as he grabbed your hand from your cheek, intertwining with his and pressed them against his cheek.

your lips were slightly open as it caught you off guard but you smiled from ear to ear when he pecked your hand, staring at you. his eyes were smiling.

“i love you y/n.” jungwon whispered against your lips. “i love you too.” you didn’t hesitant to reply, pecking him one more time before finally fixing yourselves to go inside of your school’s auditorium.

“hey what took so long!?” your classmate heeseung noticed the both of you at the entrance, his voice slightly irritated because both of you said 7:00pm. it was currently 7:30pm.

both of you blushed and looked away.

#enha imagines #enha scenarios #enha x reader #enha smau #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #yang jungwon #jungwon fluff #jungwon oneshot #enha jungwon #enhypen fluff #enhypen x female reader #yang jungwon fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen x yn

759 notes · View notes

fairysluna · 1 year

Text

they're not watching us.

A tiny and innocent mistake led you to this, and Cregan happened to walk in the wrong place at the wrong time.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Alpha!Cregan Stark x Omega!Septa!Reader.

Tags/TW: a/b/o dynamics, smut (fingering, clit play, tit sucking, blood kink(?, creampie, sliiiight dubcon), dilf!cregan, profanity, religious themes. if something is missing pls let me know!!

Author's Note: just so you know, this is my first time writing about omegaverse, and i did some research (yes, i did lmao) so I tried to make it as 'real' as posible including other factors that helped with the story... so yeah, enjoy!!🤍

Word Count: 3.6k

Gen. Taglist: @borikenlove @welcometothelioncage @melsunshine

Whenever it was too cold outside, Cregan always wondered how were you able to handle the heavy snow, for you hardly ever wore a coat to cover your body from the coldness. You would wear your tunic which was way too loose to actually show your silhouette, and the typical veil that septas were forced to wear… specially septas like yourself.

Cregan found you kneeling in front of the Weirwood tree, your eyes closed and your hands pressed together holding the star that represented the Seven above. The Warden of the North frowned upon such an action, being weird out with the devotion you so dearly held for the New Gods, for it was something not so common in the zone. However, he did not mean to interrupt your prayers, so he just stood behind your back as you slowly opened your eyes and the red leaves of the tree invaded your vision with a beautiful sight.

Your eyes filled with innocence were sparkling with a glow that Cregan had never seen before, it was different and there was certainly something odd about them. It wasn't until you turned around to see him that he realized he was staring for too long already, but it was your gentle and kind smile that made him know that you had no problem with it at all.

You stood up almost immediately, and then you swiftly bowed as you got rid of the snowflakes that were sticking to your knees. Cregan looked down at you and nodded as a response for your polite greeting.

"Am I interrupting something?" He asked.

"Of course not, my lord, I was finishing my prayers when you arrived," you explained. Cregan immediately saw the seven point star hanging from your neck.

"It's a beautiful piece," he said as he carefully grabbed it between his long fingers. That action made you smile.

"It was a gift from the Grand Maester, he gave it to me when I visited the Citadel," you looked down at his hand, and inevitably, you bit your lip once you saw how small the star would look in it.

You knew you shouldn't be thinking about these things, but you also knew that your heat would soon begin and that your neediness would increase with just a simple gesture as that one. Your jaw clenched as you looked up and you noticed that his attention had returned to you.

His dark brown eyes suddenly turned darker as if he was trying to perceive something within you. Your cheeks started to feel warm as his fingers began to follow the path of the chain around your neck until his hand was placed on the side of your covered throat. You shifted your position as you squeezed your legs, already feeling the heat growing between them.

A strong scent reached your nose as you did so, it was pleasant, arousal even, and you knew then that you had to get out of there. Your skin would burn under Cregan's touch and your breathing came out shaky. The right thing to do at that moment was to leave before it was too late, so you did.

"It's better if I keep going," you said almost in a whisper. The mere sound of your voice made Cregan close his eyes as he took a deep breath, clenching his sharp jaw.

"Of course," he replied, his tone being raspy and lower than before which caused you to feel a small pressure in your lower belly.

You nodded as a way to say goodbye, and you managed to take two steps before you felt a firm grip tightening around your wrist. You gasped out of shock as you turned around, looking at the tall man in front of you breathing so fast it almost seemed as if he was fuming.

He kept your hand up, close to his nose, and he leaned a bit forward until his face was inches away from it. You saw how he softly brushed his nose against the back of your hand until it reached your wrist, and a barely audible grunt escaped from him. You panicked, knowing that this was not the right thing, so you forced yourself to pull your hand and started to walk away from that place.

The long and loose tunic you were wearing did a perfect job at covering the slick running down your thighs as you went towards the Maester's office for relief. And, also, the thick and long fur coat of Lord Stark did well at hiding his already leaking cock.

For the next few days you forbade yourself to come any close to the Warden of the North. Whenever he would show up in the same space as you, you would pick up your things and leave immediately. You were able to smell his scent, to sense his imposing presence whenever he was close, and that would left your cunt drenching and your face flustered.

At nights the pain between your legs could only be healed by the help of the Maesters, for they were the only ones that were able to do this for Septas like you. But that wasn't enough. Once they leave your chambers the pain would return almost instantly, and you would desperately hump your pillow or hand trying to find the much needed relief.

Cregan would suffer from the same thing. He knew you were avoiding him, which would wake up a side of him that he never knew existed in the first place. Your mere presence was a threat for his righteousness, for just your smell would be enough for him to lose his mind. He had tried to find someone to help him with his aching need, but as it happened to you, they were simply not enough.

The time came when one of the annual feasts the House Stark offered to its bannermen was soon to occur. The preparations for this event were huge, for it was expected to receive more than two hundred guests from the Northern lands, including some men from the Night Watch. Cregan found himself going towards the Maester's office expecting to find him there and ordering him to send some of the invitation letters… but he only found you.

As soon as you heard the door being open you turned around, widening your eyes before they were able to see the big silhouette of the man that your body was aching for. His scent was enough for you to identify him.

It was the first time he saw you without the headpiece covering your hair, or your neck. You were still wearing the same attire you used earlier that day, but for some reason, your veil was not on you anymore, and thanks to that he was now able to fully sense you; your sweet and tempting scent that made him drop the letters onto the floor. You stood shocked in the room, your legs shaking as you noticed the predatory look on his darkened eyes. At the very same time, you felt your cunt drenching with his presence.

Cregan looked at a chair, where your veil was hanging, and he took a deep breath. That piece of clothing had a spell which prevents –or at least tries to prevent– your pheromones from being perceived by people as Lord Stark whenever you were in heat. Now that you were without it, he was fully able to smell the arousal dripping down your thighs.

"My lord…" you spoke in a whiny and needy voice that made Cregan growl, getting hard with just hearing you speak, "you need to leave now."

Cregan did not answer, he stayed in his position as he clenched his jaw. His heart beating a hundred per hour while he saw the despair and neediness of your eyes staring back at him. His cock pulsing inside his pants, begging for release. You took a step back, trying to be as far as possible because you knew the consequences of this. You were fool enough to let yourself be seen in a space where you knew you might get caught.

But the Maester was the one who helped you in your times of need, and you were waiting for him when Cregan made his sudden appearance.

"My lord, please, leave right now," you repeated, begging him because you knew you couldn't hold it any longer.

The ache between your soaked thighs was starting to hurt so much that it brought tears to your eyes. Your breathing became uneven at the same time you started to clench around nothingness, feeling the despair of needing something to help you.

You heard Cregan grunting on the low as his hand began to palm his hardening knot. Your bodies feeling like magnets, trying to be far from each other but being unable to do so, because you both knew you were fighting against the feeling of ripping your clothes off and listening to what your bodies were pleading to do. However, you both know you couldn't do it… it was not right.

But then, a soft wind entered the room from the opened window behind you, grabbing the particles of your sweet scent and taking them towards Cregan's nostrils. He closed his eyes, taking a deep, long breath as he clenched his fist and tried to remain calm. You were deadly silent, scared to provoke any feeling on him that would make him lose the last bit of willpower that was left on him. But you knew it was too late once his brown eyes were opened once again; two dark orbs staring at your shaky frame with a hunger you've never seen in anyone before.

And then, you lost it too.

You whined as Cregan walked towards you, smacking your body against the wall behind you and claiming your lips as he desperately rubbed his aching cock against your thigh. His tongue wandered inside your mouth as he devoured you, touching and squeezing your breasts on top of your holy gown, feeling your hardened nipples against the fabric.

Soon enough you started to cry out against his lips, the heat inside your body washing over you and making you feel numb and dizzy. Your cunt aching and begging for attention, but at the same time the guilt was eating you alive. You weren't supposed to be doing this. Not with him. But your body was longing for his touch, to feel him deep inside of you.

"This is wrong…" you muttered as his hand reached your throat and the kiss became messy, "we- we shouldn't…"

"I know," he growled, biting your lip as he lifted your skirts with his free hand.

His fingers touched your thigh, and you felt the burning trace they left behind as they were getting closer to your core. Your whines were silenced by his possessive kiss, his tongue tasting you as he moaned desperate against your lips.

Soon, his digits found your already swollen clit, and he started to play with it. Two of his fingers spreaded your soaking folds as his middle one was circling in your pearl. You became a moaning mess, so needy for his touch and whining as he provided it to you, not being scared of being too loud.

Suddenly his whole palm was rubbing against your nub as you opened your legs for him to touch you as he pleased. He would brush your clit, spreading the big amounts of slick that were coming out of you.

You were already sweating, your hips moving against his palm as he devoured you. His hand around your throat only tightened as he felt your arousal falling down your thighs and coating his long fingers. You were out of breath while his tongue kept lurking around your mouth, licking yours as he whimpered.

"I can't fucking help it," he muttered, breaking the kiss and rubbing his nose against the skin of your face. He took deep breaths at the same time he used two of his fingers to pinch your clit and make your legs shake, "you smell so good, so fucking good."

"My lord, I-" you cried, a choked voice and gulp followed your words, "Gods, p-please…"

"I need to fuck you so bad, darling," he whined, his lips finding the access to your neck at the same time he humped your clothed thigh, "I've been- I've been trying to get you out of my mind but I can't. It's so fucking frustrating… knowing that your so close but so out of my reach."

His fingertips teased your entrance, making you moan while you held onto his broad shoulders, trying desperately to have something to grip in case your trembling legs would give in. The sound of your wetness echoing in the room, increasing the heat between you two.

"And now here you are," he said between grunts and heavy breathes, "coating my fingers with your sweetness. I bet you taste so fucking good…"

He removed his hand from your core and he raised it, showing you his glistening fingers before he put them in his mouth. The sweetness of your taste made him whine as soon as he felt it, and an expression of pain was shown on his face. He couldn't wait any longer, his body was craving for you.

In a sudden movement, his big and strong hands ripped your gown, leaving it shattered in the floor as your whole body was now exposed to his hungry eyes. His eyes scanned every inch of you before he leaned towards your breasts in order to also have a taste of them. His wide tongue engulfing your sensitive nipples made you squirm, and his hands surrounded your waist in an attempt to keep you still. He would violently suck on them, almost making you cry out of pure pleasure, feeling so high in ecstasy that you barely could stand on your feet.

You tried to push him away as his teeth started to softly bite your nubs, but he would only press his face harder against your tit. You felt scratches in your back produced by the raspy stone of the walls as you writhe and move. Your whines and cries were getting a bit too loud but Cregan did not seem to care at all, he was too busy having his own personal feast.

"Gods! My lord, it's- I'm going to… Oh!" you moaned, Cregan grunting against your soft skin.

He hummed against you, and then softly said, "fucking cum in my hand, love."

When you thought you couldn't get any more pleasure, you felt one of his hands leaving your waist and reaching for your clit once again. Two of his fingers spreaded your swollen lips while a third one went into your pussy. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your whole body shook with pleasure, and you ended up coming undone between his arms.

He didn't give you a break. As soon as he noticed you had reached your first orgasm, he couldn't bare with the need of fucking you anymore. He turned your body and your hands held your weight against the wall. You felt his big hands grabbing your hips to lean them backwards and a few seconds later you heard a soft stump against the floor, which were his pants falling down his long legs.

Your mouth opened as you felt his thick and wet head spreading your slick all over your cunt, even reaching your arse. You cried out loud, sobbing out of pleasure while you started to clench around nothing.

"Please!" You begged. Tears already soaking your flushed cheeks, "it hurts so much!"

Cregan's eyes widened as he buried himself in you. Your tight walls receiving his cock in a warm grip that made him whimper and his legs shake. A trembling sigh escaped him while his fingertips dug in your skin.

"Fucking- I'm going to fucking lose my mind with this tight cunt of yours," he growled in your ear.

He started to slowly bury himself in you, stretching you open as you gulped and cried, so desperate for him to fuck you senseless. Your hands and your whole body was shaking as the pleasure started to consume you. He was so big, and the way you could feel his cock twitching inside of you was completely intoxicating.

With a single push he fully entered you. His hips smacking against yours and pressing your entire body against the wall. He let out a needy moan that made you feel butterflies in your belly. You felt so full, squeezing him firmly as you inevitably clenched around it.

His hands went to your lower abdomen and your eyes followed the trace. You were able to see a bump in your belly which he pressed; that gesture made you roll your eyes as you leaned your head back into his shoulder.

"Did you see that, love?" He asked, fighting against the urge to snap his hips against yours, "see how good I fill you up? how deep I am?"

No matter how deep his voice would sound, it would still come out as whines and shaky whimpers.

"Yes…" you managed to say. He pulled out slowly, only leaving his thick head inside of you.

"Your cunt now belongs to me," He finished his words with a harsh movement that allowed him to be fully inside of you again. You squinted as you closed your legs at the sudden pleasure, screaming his name. "I won't let anyone else fuck you. ever. again." After each word he would repeat that action.

Your eyes closed as your mind felt light and dizzy. Of your mouth, only obscene sound would come out, as your skins slapping against each other while Cregan's movements fastened with the need of reaching his orgasm.

"You're gonna be mine, right? You're gonna let me knot this pretty little cunt of yours…"

"Yes! Yes, please! Please!" You blindly said, forgetting about everything and only thinking about how good he was making you feel.

His thrusts were animalistic, his cock going in and out of you, filling you up so well. It wasn't long until Cregan was able to see a ring of cream around his shaft, and the sight would only make him go more feral, completely losing his control as he restlessly pounded against you.

Your cries and pleas were heard all over the castle, but neither of you cared. You finally were satisfying your needs, the need of being with each other in this way.

The sound of your juices would join the sound of your loud moans. Cregan would roll his eyes each time your walls squeezed him, and when you least expected it, he ripped another orgasm out of you.

With a scream, your cunt flattered around his cock and your legs bent. Cregan easily grabbed you between his arms, wrapping them around your sweaty and warm body. He never stopped pounding, abusing your overstimulated hole while you started to see stars. You were exhausted already, and yet you felt the need to have more.

One of his hands grabbed your breast, and the other went to your swollen clit, playing with it as his chest pressed against your back. You let your head fall backwards towards his shoulder, breathing so fast and heavily that your throat dried out.

A yell was stuck in the middle of your throat as you started to feel his knot spreading inside of you. Your cunt felt even tighter as he stretched your walls in such a painful and delicious way.

His lips attacked your neck, kissing it and marking it as he whispered, "I'm gonna cum… and you're gonna take it all like the good, pretty girl you are."

You barely could nod, and when you least expect it, he shot his seed deep inside of you, making the bulge in your belly even bigger.

A guttural sound left his lip and then, suddenly, you felt a sharp pain in the left side of your neck that made you flustered your walls around his swollen knot, and as the blood fell from the bite down your cleavage and onto your abdomen, your third orgasm washed over you. Your juices gushing out of your cunt as your legs shook and your hips twitched. A mixture of your release and Cregan's pooled under your feet, staining the fine wood with filthiness and sin.

Your eyes followed the path of blood from your belly towards your collarbone, where an open wound with the shape of a bite decorated your skin. Then, you noticed the seven point star necklace that was still hanging from your neck, and you saw how the blood would gather in the points and drop to the floor.

As Cregan was still inside of you, panting and still moaning against your ear , you couldn't help but to think of yourself as a filthy sinner. You were now no better than a woman from a brothel; dirty and sullied, a sinful woman that let herself be carried away by the lust of the moment, disappointing the Maiden and the Mother.

Now with the mark on your neck, you had no choice but to obey and satisfy your alpha. You were claimed, and not even the Gods can get you free from this eternal bond that tied you to him. You were now his.

After a few minutes, your legs had just stopped shaking when you felt Cregan hardening cock starting to move once again inside of you. You whimpered out of the overstimulation you were suffering, too wasted to give him another orgasm, and feeling too guilty to fully enjoy a second round.

But your body did not seem to listen to your mind.

"Don't be afraid of what your Gods might say about this," he whispered, before licking the blood from your wound, "if we're lucky enough, they're not watching us right now."

#cregan x reader #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark #cregan stark smut #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #hotd smut #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #hotd fanfic #house stark #house targaryen #house of the dragon #fanfic

2K notes · View notes

kwanisms · 2 years

Text

Kinkuary 26 Minho — angry/hate sex // impact play

➥ hard dom!Minho x sub!Reader summary: Sometimes, Minho gets really annoyed. Sometimes he gets really frustrated. The rest of Stray Kids know he gets frustrated, but what they don’t know is that he channels that anger and frustration in his sex with his girlfriend. wc: 1.7k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, established relationship, sexual content (minors dni!): unprotected sex (pls use protection!), rough sex, angry sex (Minho takes all his frustration out on the reader but the aftercare is top tier), impact play (spanking, face slapping, choking, mention of reader slapping Minho once), use of pet names (mainly baby, honey, angel at the end, etc), reader is a bit of a pain slut, moderate degradation (he calls her slut & whore mainly and bitch one time), spitting, and I think that’s all of them. If I missed anything let me know! a/n: TW: THERE IS MORE THAN SPANKING IN THIS PART. IF THAT BOTHERS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS!!! I couldn’t imagine anyone else in this part other than Minho. I know he’s not a violent person, he just seems the most likely to be into impact play. Thank you for reading, I hope you like it, and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms. Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog @kosmoreads @yourfavoritefreakyhan Stray Kids taglist: @niktwazny303 @g4m3girl @rapmonie2047 @indigo35 @witherednotes @cixrosie @fay-ebrahim @imseungminsgf @yeosayang @leeautumn @katsukis1wife @flowerboykun @beomgyusbabygirl Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. Taglist closed!

════════════════════════════════

“You know I don’t actually hate you, right?” Minho said softly as he ran the warm wet washcloth over your skin, red marks and bruises forming from his tight grip and heavy handedness.

You smiled at him warmly. “I know, babe,” you answered.

True, it wasn’t like Minho to be so rough with you.

At least, he didn’t make a habit out of it.

Sometimes he just needed to let his frustrations out and you were more than willing to let him fuck his frustration out with you.

It didn’t stop him from feeling slightly guilty when bruises showed up the next day from his manhandling, despite you reassuring him that you liked it.

You were truly a masochist.

It started when Minho came home angrier than you’d ever seen him before. Practice had gone extremely poorly and all of the guys were mad. Nothing seemed to be going well for them today.

You knew you were in for a rough time from the moment Minho slammed the front door shut, dropping his bag and making a beeline for you sitting innocently on the sofa, watching TV.

“Min?” You asked, looking up at your boyfriend as he towered over you. “Get up,” he said in a dangerously low voice. It sent shivers up your spin. “W-what?”

Minho grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you up from the cushion and dragged you away from the living room, slamming your back against the wall. Your wide eyes made him hesitate. “I’ve had a… really shitty day,” he started softly, dropping his head so you couldn’t see his eyes.

“I’m just so… fucking angry.”

A warm smile crossed your features as you reached up to cup his cheek tenderly.

“Let it out,” you encouraged softly.

The simple command was enough for Minho to slip into his own form of domspace. One where he almost lost himself entirely. Almost.

You knew from the second he looked up with that unreadable expression and those dark eyes, things were about to get very, very interesting.

It didn’t take much to set Minho off once he was in his domspace, a few shoves and a well timed slap had him dragging you to the bedroom, practically tearing your clothes off before knocking you back onto the bed.

He was on you in seconds, pulling his own shirt off as he knelt between your thighs. The two of you hesitated for just a moment, breathing heavily as you stared at one another. His eyes were dark, pupils blown with lust while yours were shining with excitement for what was to come.

Minho grabbed your leg, rolling your over onto your back before settling on your thighs. You knew better than to ask because sooner or later, he’d act.

And act he did, delivering a quick blow to your ass, making your body jump and a moan to escape your lips. Not giving you a chance to recover, he continued, landing slap after slap to your ass, alternating sides until your ass was red and sore. Not that you were complaining.

You loved the pain almost as much as you loved the pleasure.

By the time he’d finished marking your ass, you were practically dripping, something your boyfriend took notice of.

“Fucking typical,” he growled, untying his pants and pushing them down along with his underwear. “Of course a whore like you gets off on being used and abused.” You whined as he roughly pulled your thong down your thighs.

The tear of fabric had you groaning. ‘Aww and those were my favorite pair.’

Minho tossed your ruined panties away, taking your sore ass cheeks in his hands and spreading them to see your soaked cunt. “I bet I’d slide right in,” he whispered, moving his thumb down to brush over your glistening slit.

“On your back,” he barked suddenly, getting off you and kicking off his pants as you rolled onto your back as ordered. Minho was back on the bed in moments, forcing your legs apart and kneeling between your thighs.

“Look at you, so fucking pathetic,” Minho scoffed. He took his cock in his hand, giving himself a few strokes as he glared down at you. “You know, I really hate sluts like you,” he growled.

You narrowed your eyes up at him. “Oh fuck you,” you answered.

The slap to your cheek wasn’t hard. It was less about strength and more about the shock of it.

Minho didn’t give you a chance to recover as he lined the tip of his cock with your slit and pushed into you quickly, bottoming out almost instantly as he slid in with ease. “Fuck,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut.

“For a whore, you sure have a tight cunt.”

You clenched around him, as if further solidifying his comment.

Minho let out a moan, grabbing your thighs harshly, nails digging into your skin.

“Tell me to fuck off again,” he ordered, opening his eyes to meet your gaze.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you hissed, earning another slap. The pain was a welcomed addition to the pleasure of Minho’s cock splitting you open. You felt his fingers close around your throat.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, insolent bitch,” he growled, hips snapping against yours roughly as he set a slow but intense pace, each thrust driving his cock deep inside your pussy.

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want; fuck you however I want,” he growled, fingers around your throat squeezing lightly. “And you’ll just lay there and take it.”

You moaned as his hips pounded against your ass, ramming his cock into your wet cunt repeatedly. “You’ll take it like the fucking whore you are.”

Every time he used that word, your walls gripped him even tighter, moans tumbling from your lips as he fucked you hard.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight I might blow right now,” he grunted, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, his bangs sticking to his forehead. “Would you like that? Want me to cum all over your stomach?” He asked.

“Or better yet,” he continued with a smirk.

“Cum inside this tight little cunt and make you mine? You want that, baby?” You moaned loudly.

Minho chuckled darkly, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. “Of course you would. You’re my little cumslut, aren’t you? You just love it when I fill you up.”

Another moan and a hard thrust had you tumbling towards the edge but not quite falling over it. “Minho,” you whimpered, voice hoarse from your incessant moaning. Minho leaned over slightly, his thrusts aiming for that soft spongy spot inside your cunt that always managed to drive you over the cliff.

“You must be thirsty,” he commented, looking down at you. “From all that moaning and back talking.” You nodded in response. Your throat was definitely dry.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded.

Not wanting to be told twice, you obeyed him, opening your mouth. Without word or warning, Minho spit into your mouth, using his thumb to push your chin up, closing your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

You obliged, swallowing his spit. “God,” he groaned, hips stuttering for a moment. “You really just do whatever I tell you, don’t you?”

It was enough to push you over the edge, your walls convulsed around your boyfriend's cock as you came, moaning his name and back arching off the bed.

Minho wasn’t far behind, groaning and gasping as his hips stilled, cock buried balls deep as he came inside you, painting your cunt with his hot load. A few more thrusts for good measure and your boyfriend finally pulled out of you, rolling off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom.

You tried to regain control of your breathing as you heard the water running in the other room. A couple minutes later and Minho returned, carefully helping you to your feet and guiding you to the bathroom.

He’d started the bath and helped you into the tub, holding your hands as you slowly lowered yourself into the running water. Once you were situated, Minho disappeared again for a moment, returning with clean towels and a washcloth.

He joined you in the bath tub, turning off the water and dipping the cloth into the hot water before bringing it up to your face and pressing it against your cheek.

The bath was nice. He always took exceptional care of you after a rough session and this time was no different.

“I’m really sorry, angel,” he murmured as he wiped your face gently with the cloth, making sure to get your cheeks, nose, forehead, and chin. Minho wasn't one to get too into his feelings but after sex, it always jumped out and he got a lot more affectionate than usual.

“It’s okay, babe,” you answered as he continued to carefully wipe your body. He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "No, honey, it's not." You smiled at him, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles.

"It is," you insisted. "We go over this every time, Minho. I want you to do this to me. I want you to hurt me."

He shook his head again. "You aren't supposed to hurt the ones you love," he answered, a slight break in his voice. "It only hurts for a little while," you murmured, pressing the back of his hand against your cheek. "But the pleasure overshadows the pain any day."

Minho turned his hand over in yours, cupping your cheek and caressing the skin with his thumb tenderly. "I'll make it up to you," he said softly. "People will think I'm abusive," he added, noticing the red mark on your cheek.

"No more slapping. I don't think I can keep doing it."

You nodded, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm. "Okay," you answered. "But spanking?" You asked, your voice hopeful. Minho nodded. "I can do that," he admitted.

"Sometimes you can be a real brat."

You laughed as Minho gently pulled you forward, turning your body and pressing your back against his chest as you both relaxed in the hot water. He pressed a few short kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear. "So, so much."

You leaned back further, resting your head on his shoulder as your eyes shut, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I love you, too, baby."

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee minho scenarios #lee minho imagines #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader #kwanisms kinkuary #kinkuary 2023

1K notes · View notes

k0droid · 6 months

Text

Savanaclaw Headcanons

A/N: posting some of my ACTUAL headcanons for twst characters cuz🧍🏾‍♀️thank you to all who sent anons and messages for ideas <3

Content Warnings!:

friendly reminder: i am black <3

I headcanon every character here as BLACK. if that threatens you, block and move on. on that topic, these are HEADCANONS, not real so if I mischaracterize your pookie, just leave a comment or reblog

reblog/comment as in "I think leona would do this-" not "ruggie isnt black u racist go fuck urself" cuz I think it shows who the actual racist is...

any black twst fans pls moot me I'm begging on my knees

RUGGIE BUCCHI::

-- y'all know i had to put my boy firsttttt -- FULLY BLACK lightskin (if you don't already know this, lightskin does not equal being mixed. like there are so many fully-black lightskin people out there and you don't have to be mixed to have light skin.) -- 4C hair styled like this -- Also wears his hair in twists -- Trans man -- Fav struggle meal? i think it'd be hotdog in a regular slice of bread -- do yall also think ruggie would be the one adding water in the soap thingy to make the soap stretch? -- has body acne in a similar pattern to a hyena's coat

JACK HOWL::

-- DARK SKIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -- stretch marks on his muscles -- 4B-4C hair but he straightens it because he doesn't like the way his ears stick out of his curls -- tbh I don't see jack as someone who listens to music, even as he works out. just sits there. in silence. if he did, i think it'd be those songs you would have heard in a 2019 youtube intro -- watched those unknown Canadian kids movies/tv shows from the 2000s

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR::

-- ALSO DARK SKINNED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -- out of the trio, I hc that he has the loosest curls -- 3A/3B -- decorates his braids/or locs with beads and gold and small pearls similar to this -- leona has an earthy fashion style, I cannot get the thought out of my head -- the type of person to tell you you've missed the turn AFTER u've missed the turn -- lip and ear piercings

A/N: this lowkey kinda ass but i don't actually have a lot hcs for twst characters so my next post is probably gonna be something like "what they would do at a family reunion"

#k0droid #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland savanaclaw #twst savanaclaw #twst leona #twst jack #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #leona kingscholar #twst headcanons #twst x black reader #black reader #black twst yuu #savanaclaw #black twisted wonderland

159 notes · View notes

comet-forgot-you · 8 months

Text

satisfaction

demon!amber freeman x virgin!reader

summary: you have reoccurring dreams of the same demon and you finally figure out how to get her.

warnings: 18+ pls, smut, fingering, manipulation (??), bath sex, oral, face riding, switch amber, virginity loss, amber’s a little mean. just a little. i think thats all idk i don’t remember.

a/n: hey yallll, long time no see.. finally finished with this, i used google translate so if the latin makes no sense, blame google 😬. it took me like a week to finish but anyways, ITS DONE. ENJOY. do not repost for any reason.

demons used trips to the human world as stress relievers or entertainment. they haunted the dreams of those whole occupied the world and fed off of the fear they felt. it was an activity every demon took part in at some point or another.

amber was amongst those who visited the human world regularly. she found it entertaining, seeing just how easy it was to elicit fear in those who caused it. stumbling into your room was a complete accident, but something about you drew her in, and she couldnt find it in herself to leave.

she knew she was hooked the moment she saw you. calm auras she usually sought to destroy suddenly became something she wanted to preserve.

your dreams soon became tainted with images of a beautiful girl. you longed to meet her, to know her. you fell asleep every night knowing you’d see her, you looked forward to it. only to wake up feeling empty and alone, craving the demon that haunted your dreams. you needed to see her, you needed to feel her, and thats all amber wanted.

amber planned it all out perfectly. months of her manipulating your dreams, showing you how good she could make you feel only to rip it all away at the last minute, forcing you to crave her like she craved you. then she showed you how to get her, and you were quick to follow the ritual she gave you.

steam filled the bathroom, you were wrapped in a towel, watching hot water fill the bathtub. candles littered the dark bathroom, flickering light from the flames painting the walls. worry pooled in the pit of your stomach. you were following a ritual given to you in your dreams, how could you not worry? you could be crazy, all of this, every dream, it could all just be some fucked up fantasy you had curated out of pure loneliness.

despite your worries, you continued to follow the instructions. you turned the water off, slowly dropping your towel. you felt like you were being watched, goosebumps rising on your skin. you glance around the bathroom despite knowing there was no way someone else could be in there without you knowing. you lower yourself into the tub, the hot water burning your skin ever so slightly as you do so. you take a breath, the feeling of eyes on you more prominent than before. you hold onto the edge of the tub in an attempt to ground yourself.

“te quaero, quaere me, te volo, coniunge me. te quaero, quaere me, te volo, coniunge me,” the words fall from your lips, clear and steady despite never saying them before. the candlelights flicker as if a breeze blew through the room. “amber,” the name falls from your lips but its not your voice.

the water level rises, arms snake around your waist and a chin rests on your bare shoulder, firm horns lightly pressing against the side of your head. “finally,” its the same voice that haunts your dream, quiet in your ear. “you want me, baby?” you let out a shaky breath, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

you hesitate, the demon that controlled your dreams was here, holding you. months of the same dreams of her, and she was finally here, actually here. “yes,” the word falls from your lips and amber smiles against your skin. her hand trails up your chest, her thumb tracing your nipple. you arch off of her body at the contact, a shaky breath leaving your lips. her other hand trails down your body, spreading your thighs apart. her middle finger grazes your clit and your quick to grab her wrist.

“i’ve never.. you know..” the words escape your lips in an embarrassed whisper. amber presses a kiss against your neck and your tilt your head ever so slightly to allow her more access.

“i know, baby. i promise i’ll be gentle,” she nibbles your ear gently, voice low. as if on queue, her fingers sink into your cunt. you bucking your hips into her palm, allowing yourself to lean back against her while she worked herself in and out of you.

shadows of the two of you dance on the wall with the flickering of light from the candles. you let your head fall back against her shoulder, eyes closed. “you’re so naughty, baby,” amber whispers, “i saw all of those dreams you had, where i fucked you just like this, what a slut.” the words are quiet. every movement amber makes causes the water to ripple, the noise fills you with embarrassment. you open your eyes, taking in her appearance for the first time outside of your dreams. dark circles rested beneath dark eyes, sharp fangs held her bottom lip captive. she was beautiful. her fingers curl inside of you, her thumb moving to rub gentle circles around your clit. you moan at the added pleasure. finding her free hand with your own, you guide it to your boob, squeezing her hand around it.

“please,” you whimper out, your hand dropping from hers, droplets of water splashing onto your chest. amber smiles, twisting your nipple between her fingers.

“so needy, hmm?” she asks. you nod breathlessly, your orgasm fast approaching. you grip onto her thigh as she works you to your high, fingers working effortlessly to do so. amber litters hickeys across your neck, feeling the vibrations of your moans against her lips.

your orgasm hits fast, and if you weren’t so desperate for the demon, you’d be embarrassed about it. amber eases her fingers out of you, pressing gentle kisses over the marks she made on your neck. “one more?” she asks. your eyes are heavy, cunt still pulsing from your orgasm. you nod quickly, not wanting to lose the opportunity. amber smiles at your eagerness.

you sit up, letting her get out of the bath. she grabs a towel, wrapping it around her body as you let the water drain. amber holds a towel out for you, arms around your waist as she wraps the towel around your body. she litters more kisses against your neck as you guide her out of the bathroom.

“wait the candles,” your eyebrows furrow as you turn around in her hold. amber lets out a quiet laugh at your worried tone,

“don’t worry about them, i’ll deal with them,” she mumbles in your neck, guiding you back until your legs hit the bed. her lips are on yours the second your back hits the bed, desperate whines falling from your lips.

amber opens your towel, lips trailing down the expanse of your body. you’re soaked by the time her lips meet your thighs. sharp fangs scrape the skin and it takes everything in you not to buck your hips into the air.

her warm mouth meets your needy cunt before you know it, lips wrapped around your pulsing clit. a loud moan falls from your lips. it was all so new, so fucking good, it was almost too much. her tongue presses flat against the bud and your hands fly to hold onto the base of her horns. amber groans against your cunt, the vibrations eliciting a whimper to fall from your lips.

amber’s mouth detached from your cunt and she looks up at you with blown eyes, eyebrows furrowed in need. “baby.. you can’t..” you tug her back towards your cunt with her horns and a loud moan falls from her lips, her own hips bucking into the mattress. “baby..” she draws out in a whine, her tongue works messily against your cunt, needy whimpers muffled in your cunt at every tug of her horns.

“please..” you whimper out, amber’s arms wrap around your thighs. she knows you’re close, your clit pulses erratically under her tongue. she tries her best to keep herself under control, but every tug at her horns has her closer and closer to her own orgasm. with one final tug at her horns, you’re coming undone on her tongue. she’s quick to lap up your juices, her tongue soon becoming to over stimulating for you.

you push her head away from your cunt, her lust filled eyes meet yours and you can tell she’s still desperate for more. “let me taste you,” you mumble.

“you don’t need to,” she mutters.

“i want to.” your voice is firm and amber’s quick to position herself above your face, her thighs on either side of your head. your arms wrap loosely around her thighs, bringing her down against your tongue.

you circle her clit with your tongue, her hips bucking at the sudden contact. “fuck,” she moans out. your tongue swipes through her folds, prodding at her entrance. amber grinds down against your face, your nose bumping her clit with every roll of her hips. shes a mess above you, her legs struggling to keep herself up.

your hand trails up her body, taking her nipple between your fingers. amber’s head falls back, a loud moan falling from her lips. “fuckfuckfuck,” she mutters. your pick up your pace, desperate to bring her to her high. “sure you’ve never done this before?” amber asks between shaky breaths, her hips desperately bucking against your face. “so fuckin’.. so fuckin’ good for a first timer,” she mutters. you fight the smile that threatens to break out.

amber lets out a loud moan as her orgasm washes through her, her hips slowing down their pace. amber lifts herself off of you, moving to straddle your hips. she leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

for the first time in months, amber was feeding off of strong emotions, and for the first time in her life, it wasn’t fear, it was satisfaction.

#mikey madison #mikey madison x reader #wlw smut #scream 2022 #scream smut #scream franchise #scream movie #amber freeman is the loml #i want amber #amber freeman smut #amber #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman #scream #save me mikey madison #i want mikey madison #d

331 notes · View notes

samutoru · 7 months

Text

jealous boyfriend!akutagawa who finds out that you're going on a mission with tachihara as a fake couple. he can't help but let his emotions control him (especially when it comes to you with another guy,"

he goes to gin about it and then goes to mori about it, asking him why he chose tachihara instead of him. "she's my girlfriend! y/n is my girlfriend, i don't understand why you chose that bastard tachihara to go with her instead of me! me, her actual boyfriend!" akutagawa yelled.

"akutagawa. you don't know how to control your emotion over y/n. as i predicted, and the way your acting right now, you will toss aside the mission and protect y/n. besides your going as backup so you will watch everything that they are going to be doing."

jealous boyfriend!akutagawa who sitting on your bed watching you get ready for your undercover fake date with tachihara. "i'm sorry ryu, i was going to tell you earlier but mori threatened me- It was something about trying to break you or something if i refused to go so i had no choice but to."

"whatever," Whatever was all akutagawa would say, but he was watching how the silk tight dress was kissing your body and was thinking about the only hands that were going to be all over you were tachihara's. you watched akutagawa get up through your mirror and he grabbed your jaw and attached his lips on your neck, trying to leave a hickey on your neck to show tachihara what's his.

jealous boyfriend! akutagawa who pins you up against the wall as you get back from the mission, you were definitely ready to tell akutagawa that your mission was successful but, he had other plans tonight. he uses rashomoun to take off your dress (most likely to cut your dress) and see what you had planned for him underneath.

— nsfw under the cut! minors pls dni :3 (warnings??: choking, slut shaming, jealousy/rage sex, pet names, bondage, p in v seggs, creampie)

"ry-ryuunosuke!" You stuttered, you were basically in your underwear at this point. You looked up to meet his eyes and there was nothing but more than darkness and lust in them.

"y/n,"

"ryu, why are you looking at me like that?" You asked innocently as you tried to keep your dress cut in half onto your body.

he was standing infront of you and he put his hands on your waist, gripping them before sliding them up and down against your body.

he threw you onto the hotel bed and was hovering over you with his knee pressing firmly, teasing you by putting pressure against your pussy. "f-fuck," you lowly moaned.

"i'll continue only if you want it," he said as he pressed hissed on your cheeks before continuing, he waited for your response and once you finally nodded in response, he continued what he was doing.

"you fucking whore," He groaned as he began to leave kisses and hickeys on your neck. "you were dressed up all pretty for tachihara you slut,"

he pulled out handcuffs from his pocket and cuffed both your arms together. "if you touch me it'll be only worse for not me, but for you," He huffed as he began to undress himself, tossing every piece of clothing to the side of the bed.

he positioned himself below you in between your thighs and slapped your panties that was already leaking of your juices. "i barely touched you and yet your already this wet for me?" He laughed before taking your panties off and began to eat you out.

"ngh~! f-fuck— ryu—" You moaned as you tried not to close your legs on him, he had his hands pressing your thighs down as you struggled to not close them on him.

he positioned his lengthy and thick cock at your enterance and slipped it in without letting you know not giving you enough time to adjust to his size.

"ngph~ ryuu~~!!"

he was now fucking you at a merciless pace. your cries, lewd slapping against skin, and his groans were filling up the sound of the room. your eyes were filled with tears and you couldn't feel nothing but the pleasure he was giving you.

"fuck! ryu!"

akutagawa was basically drilling the shape of his cock into your pussy and that was the only thing you could focus on right now. rashoumon was basically keeping your thighs open for akutagawa as his hands were focused on your throat and your waist.

"you just love making me crazy don't you? you fucking slut," He groaned, thursting in faster in you and his grip around your throat tightened as he felt your pussy throbbing and squeezing against him

"whose pussy is this? whose cum are you taking in tonight?" He loosened his grip on your throat so that you would be able to catch up on your breath and tightened it once again.

"huh? who's pussy is this?" He asked as he made you make eye contact with him, as he fastened his pace and his hand reaching down to play with your clit.

you weren't able to draw out the words out of your mouth. all you knew what to do was to moan out his name.

"fuck! it's yours ryu! yours!" You moaned.

"who's?"

"ngh~! yours!" You moaned again.

"please! please, ryuunosuke, i need your cum, please—" You begged, he licked your neck and fastened his pace.

"that's right you fucking slut, now beg for it." he was basically drilling, pushing, and fucking his cock into you. he was making you remember the shape of his tip and every single vein on his pretty pink cock.

your back arched as you came instantly and you felt akutagawa's seed filling you up. he continued to thrust into you slowly riding out both of your guys' high. he pulled out and uncuffed your hands, his body falling right beside yours.

"you know, you're hot when your jealous—" You paused as you turned to him and cupped his face.

"i might have to do it often." You giggled.

"do it again and you'll see what happens to you. i might not let you cum next time."

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #samu's thoughts #akutagawa bsd #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #bungo straydogs akutagawa #bungo straydogs smut #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa smut #akutagawa ryuunosuke #ryuunosuke akutagawa x reader #bsd fanfics #bsd smut #samu's drabbles

278 notes · View notes

mintmatcha · 11 months

Note

I loved part two so much😭😭

Gib more Obi pls

Draconic works more like a melody than it does a language. It's tonal, drifting high and low as the two dragonborns speak, each word rolling into the next. It lingers in the air, unrushed and growled, pushed from the back of the throat in ways you're not sure your body could ever recreate. Sometimes, the conversation seems to have an edge of anger and it sets your body on guard, but then Obsidian dissolves into laughter and you relax.

You shouldn't be on edge anyway; the dark scaled stranger isn't //actually// a stranger. Jasper Vyke towers over his brother even when seated, but the strong angled spikes and ridges to his face are almost identical. His eyes keep flickering to yours as he talks, no hint of humor present on his stony features.

"You stare." Jasper jerks a chin to you.

"I'm sorry," you say, turning your attention to the campfire. "I didn't expect you two to look so similar."

"Well-" Obi covers his mouth with the back of his hand, but it doesn't hide his smile, "We are twins, my lady."

Meeting Jasper was completely a coincidence. Crossed paths led to a surprise family reunion and now the man sits at your fire, gnawing on the leg of some poor animal he hunted earlier. From stories and your brief interactions, you knew the two would be vastly different people--

You didn't expect that to almost share a face.

"We are, uh-- How do you say in Common?" He can speak Common fairly well, Obi told you once, he just prefers his Mothertongue. It's a point of pride.

"Identical."

"Indentical," Jasper repeats, "Obsidian is the smart one. I am the pretty one."

He flexes a bicep and the muscle coils under the skin. You hate to admit that you do find it attractive-- not as attractive as you find your partner, of course, but it does make you sit a little straighter. If Obi notices, he doesn't seem it mind; he's too busy watching his brother with narrowed eyes.

"I don't think you are identical at all," you say, "Obi's so much--"

"Smaller!" Jasper laughs, leaning in close to nudge you with his elbow. "So much smaller. He is the runt."

"I guess so," You agree with him, but you sense that may hurt your partner's ego, so you keep quiet, "But you are also different colors."

You touch Jasper's arm, running a thumb across a patch of scales. It's no wear near as soft as Obsidian's; there's a dry grit to the texture, closer to shark skin than anything else.

"Obsidian is iridescent-- your scales are matte," you say, "They don't shine in the light at all."

"You like my scales?" Jasper asks, chest puffed and a purr on his voice. He scooches in closer to you, leg pressed against yours, "I will give you one to keep."

Obi snaps his jaws together so forcefully that you jump at the sound. Both of you swivel to face the man. His muzzle is furrowed wildly, so much so that his fangs show to the gums. The air shifts and you can almost see the way magic crackles about him, wild, powerful, and raw. "She has plenty of scales, brother."

An anxiety builds in your chest. You aren't sure where this conflict came from, but you sense you did something wrong.

"Obi, it's fine, I like--"

Obi's attention snaps to you. "If you wish to have a scale to carry I will give you as many as you desire. You do not need anyone else's."

They switch to Draconic again, sharing a low toned conversation. Obsidian may be the smaller brother, but he carries himself with a force that has Jasper quickly backing off.

"Forgive me," The larger brother says to you suddenly.

The apology doesn't make you feel better. The seasick feeling in your chest grows more unsteady and you choose to remain quiet for the rest of the night. It's not until later than night, when Jasper is deep in sleep and snoring like thunder, that Obi approaches you again. He moves his sleeping mat closer to yours, testing your reaction, then moves again.

"Are you cross with me?" he whispers.

"You frightened me a bit," you admit just as softly, "I get unsettled easy after Adam."

Elaboration isn't needed. There's a twitch of a sneer on Obi's face when you mention him, but he mellows out again after.

"I'm truly sorry, my fawn. My anger was not focused at you," he says, "I will take care not to react like that again."

He extends a hand and you take it with a squeeze. The unsteadiness inside you quells just a bit.

"Jasper was trying to court you," Obsidian says after a bit, "And it scared me."

You forget Obi - silver tongued, charismatic Obi- is self conscious about so many things. Did he really think his brother would swoop in so easily and win your heart?

"I didn't realize. I thought he was just being nice."

"Exchanging scales is a dragonborn custom. It's my fault for not explaining it to you," he sighs, "I just..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. You don't need him too. You just squeeze his hand again, stronger this time.

"Why have you never given me a scale?"

"I did not think you would like one, my fawn."

"I want two," you say, quickly, "I shall turn them into earrings so they are always with me."

"They are not jewels," he chuckles, "They will not make very pretty jewelry."

"I disagree."

Obi doesn't respond, but you can hear the soft clicks of his purr, building in his throat.

250 notes · View notes

controlmyfeet · 1 year

Text

i still feel everything when you are near - matty healy

matty healy x ex!reader

angst

warnings: exes, alcohol consumption, insecurities, jealousy (kinda?), pining, kissing, crying (lmk if there’s more i need to add!)

a/n: not sure about this. i think the last time i tried to write fanfiction i was 13, so feedback is appreciated but pls be nice lol. also, english is not my first language!

3570 words

it still hurts.

i didn't think it would hurt as much after 6 months, but seeing him in the flesh makes me realize it does. i thought i was already used to it, thought i was actually doing a good job moving on, if we ignore my slump in the first 3 weeks after the breakup, where i would just leave the house for work and groceries (that i would overbuy because i forgot i'd just cook for myself), i think i was doing pretty okay.

i should've guessed he would be in the city. he can't stay in one place for too long; if he has a few days free in between shows, he's going to look for a studio to work in. usually in london, los angeles, or here. most of the time, he ends up here.

but i never know where he is anymore.

i deleted twitter from my phone after 2 months. maybe because of the questions, perhaps because i didn't care, or maybe i was tired of reading all the tabloids and fearing they were true. maybe i care too much. whatever, right? it just means i haven't seen him in a while, even in pictures.

i'm sitting by the dark wooden bar counter when i first spot him. he's standing with charli and george in the vip section near the dj booth, surrounded by people as always. my friends noticed that he's here too, but they haven't said anything, which i'm grateful for. i'd rather pretend it doesn't affect me.

he looks different, though. his arms are bigger, and his hair is longer; soft curls fall over big brown eyes that crinkle whenever george says something funny. he still has that boyish smile.

lulu and bea went dancing and i said i'd join them in a minute. we go to this club every time we're in the city, but tonight it is more crowded than usual. my secluded spot at the bar being the only place i won't be pushed around. still, i feel bad. it's my best friend's birthday, and we came to new york together to celebrate, but instead, i'm drowning my sorrows with cosmos.

"you won't even say hi now?" i hear matty's voice from behind me and turn around, startled. he stands tall and confident as always, but his eyes no longer hold the same energy. here, up close, i can see that his eyebags look more prominent, and his stubble has grown slightly. he looks tired. i don't think i look any better.

"hi," i say, looking into his brown orbs, phlegmatic, as if the butterflies in my stomach aren't going batshit crazy right now "i didn't see you, sorry."

he grins cheekily, "it's alright, darling."

i don't really know what to say. he should hate me, honestly. it wouldn't be surprising considering how we left things, with all the yelling, name calling. with all the broken picture frames. it started with another rumor while he was on tour, another leaked picture. he was so dismissive and vague about it that i just couldn't find it in myself to trust him, and he could only complain about how childish all of it was.

i guess he doesn't, though. they have free drinks inside the vip section. i remember it from when we came here together. he doesn't need to come all the way to the bar for a drink.

"it-it's good to see you," i stutter, apprehensive now. fearing that maybe he really does hate me, and just walked over to tell me how much so. i mean, i would hate him, too, if i could. but no matter how hard i try, i can't. and believe me, i've tried.

matty is standing so close that the loud music sounds muffled now, and the warm, dim light of the bar reflecting on his silky skin makes me want to melt into his arms. so i try to keep my eyes focused on my feet.

he seems to notice that i'm struggling as i fidget with my empty glass.

"can i get you another one?" he asks amicably. my eyes shift from my feet to the glass in my hands and back to his eyes.

"sure," i reply shyly.

he asks a bartender polishing wine glasses next to us for another cosmopolitan. behind the man, shelves from the same material as the counter hold a collection of glass bottles of different colors with labels sporting french and italian names. matty sits on the barstool beside mine. "so…what are you doing here in new york? i thought you hated the city this time of the year."

and it's true, i hate new york during the summer. the concrete buildings seem to make the temperature much higher, and tourists crowd every corner. it feels claustrophobic. the subway also smells extra bad during these months. but i loved being here with him, no matter the season. i loved being anywhere with him.

"well, yeah. but it's lulu's birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it here, so here we are. the three of us."

"bea is here too?"

"she is, yeah."

him talking about my friends is familiar. many sunday evenings were spent on his couch sharing a bottle of red with my newest candle burning on the side. at the same time, i'd tell him about the most recent gossip in my friend group, and he would listen.

the barman places the new drink before me and takes the empty glass. i thank him and take a sip of the pink liquid. it's sweet and sour, and the vodka calms my nerves a little bit. he's staring at my lips. so i lick them clean.

he shifts, and suddenly, i feel his calloused fingertips brush against my elbow resting comfortably over the counter. much more tender than last time; my skin burns where he touches it.

"how's your writing going?" he asks, looking into my eyes now.

i tell him i'm still at the magazine, it's going alright. not a lot has changed since we broke up. but it's less exciting, more monotonous. i leave that part out. and he asks me about my own stuff, poems and essays hidden in my drafts.

it's just awkward small talk. so awkward. like we're just acquaintances. friends of friends being left alone, being civil to each other.

it's also a conversation we've had before. documents on my computer that weren't fitting enough for the editors or that i just wrote on a whim. he used to tell me to publish them either way, to leave the magazine and find people who actually appreciate my work, or to start my own thing. but it would be useless; they're not good enough.

"well, i don't know, it's been a while since i've written anything out of work." i take another sip, just to calm down a little. "haven't felt very inspired lately."

oh my god, shut up– i can't say this to my ex. it's embarrassing, pitiful.

"it happens." he takes my hand and brushes his thumb over my knuckles. i still shiver "you're really talented, love. you should be proud of yourself. i am."

even his praise hurts now; i miss hearing it daily. it's a stab in my chest, salt on the wound. so i just bite my lip and nod. afraid that if i say something, a choked sob will come out.

there's longing in his eyes, and he gets a look like he wants to say more. but his gaze flickers behind me for a moment, and he drops my hand and gives my left shoulder a squeeze, showing me a soft smile.

"i'll leave you be, then. it was nice seeing you, love."

there's a voice in the back of my head begging me to make him stay, but i know i can't do that, not when i recall why it ended the way it did. still, i want to reach for his hand and pull him back to me, just for a few minutes at least. but someone grips my shoulders.

"there you are!" lulu says excitedly, already a few drinks ahead of me. her dark blonde hair messy and her skin glimmering with sweat from all the dancing. bea follows right behind her. "c'mon, let's do some shots, you need to power up for all the dancing you owe me."

"alright." i force a giggle and down my drink as bea asks the bartender for three tequila shots.

a few minutes and many shots later, the three of us are on the dance floor, swaying wildly to the loud, thumping bass of whatever music the dj's playing. just being around my girls makes me feel less anxious, and the flashing lights, plus all the alcohol already flowing through my body are making my mind a bit hazy, which helps me let loose a little.

as i move, i can feel the beat of the music inside my chest, sweaty bodies pushing against me without a care. i even forget about matty for a minute. i don't think about how his hands used to feel on me when we danced together, not at all.

we dance for maybe 30 minutes. until lulu finds one of her many ex-flings, and, as they catch up, bea asks me to go to the bathroom with her. taking my hand, she leads me out of the crowded area and towards the door labeled "ladies' room".

the contrast from the mostly dark club to the bathroom's white walls makes my eyes squint. it's colder in here, quieter. i can hear the stifled bass from the music and high heels clicking against the floor tiles.

as i wait for bea, i brace myself on the sink in front of me and look into the mirror. everything is happening too fast. talking to matty, downing shots, and being dragged to the dance floor immediately. my head is pounding. i didn't have the time to process what is going on tonight.

my ears are ringing, and it feels like all the alcohol has suddenly lost all its effect. instantly sobering up, i grab a paper towel and dab it on my arms and face to try to get rid of the sweat. turning on the sink, i wet my hands and place them on the back of my neck to cool down and try to help with the dizziness. i hear the toilet flush, and bea comes out of the cubicle, running her hands through her wavy black hair. i reach into my purse and pull out my lipgloss, coating my lips evenly while looking at myself in the mirror.

"i'm going to the back for a bit," i tell bea as she approaches the sink next to me.

"you okay? do you need water?" she asks, concerned

"yea- yes, i just need to breathe a little."

"okay, text me if you need anything." i just nod and leave the bathroom. she knows me, knows i need to be alone.

pushing through crowded bodies, i head to the club's back door, leading to a narrow alleyway where the employees usually store extra liquor bottles. it also doubles as a smoking area, so i shouldn't be surprised when i see him as soon as i open the door. tattooed arms flexing as he lights a cigarette, probably not his first one of the night, and i turn back to try to leave before he sees me.

"leaving so soon?" i turn around again and already feel my cheeks heating up. embarrassed, like a kid caught eating dessert before dinner. "you can stay."

"it's okay, i'll go somewhere else," i wave him off mindlessly. he came here to enjoy his cig on his own, right? he doesn't need his ex-girlfriend plaguing his chill alone time "i don't want to bother you, i just need some air."

"please stay." it's not the first time he says this, but this time i do.

with pink-tinged cheeks and heels clicking loudly, i slowly walk down the three small steps in front of the door and move to stand across him with my back resting against the club's brick wall. the warm summer air hits my skin, and i can hear the rustle of the traffic. "you could never bother me." i pretend i didn't hear him.

"i thought you were quitting," i motion to the burning cigarette between his fingers. the moonlight illuminated the alleyway, making the smoke around him look like some kind of silver aura. he smiles at me.

"i'm trying," he says, taking a drag and blowing it out by the side of his mouth, and i laugh.

"it sure looks like it," i reply, still smiling. i'm not as nervous as i expected i would be in this situation; maybe the alcohol hasn't worn off as much as i thought.

he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "well, you know me".

my eyes follow his every movement, long, calloused fingers holding the rolled paper limply and bringing it up to his red, pouty lips. i start to fidget with the end of my skirt, trying to distract myself by looking at how my fingers twist the fabric. busying myself, so i don't remember how those same lips used to feel against my own or on the curve between my neck and shoulder.

i look up again when i hear matty step on his cigarette– putting it out– and he starts to walk in my direction. my breath hitches. we are face to face now, noses almost touching. closer than we were at the bar. i can see every freckle on his face when he's this close. i can see the chapped corner of his mouth and the grey that's starting to show up on his now tousled hair.

"why did you leave?" he's straight to the point. his voice comes out low, almost a whisper. at our position, there's no need to be louder than that. there's no hatred in his tone; still, he's not smiling. a flash of hurt appears on his face for a moment. "didn't i make you happy?"

"of course you did, matty." i build the courage to look into his eyes, honey pouring out of them. "we've already talked about this."

he lifts his right hand to rest it on the wall beside my head while letting out a scoff. "but i don't get it," his tone is a little bit louder now. he's not aggressive, but he's not whispering anymore. "what happened?"

"it was for the best." i've stopped whispering too. i place my hands on my forehead. as if to avert the impending headache that will follow this conversation. i don't really know what happened either or when it started happening. i feel sweat droplets running down my hairline, not sure if it's from the summer heat, our closeness, or my disquietude.

"for the best of who?" he questions, lifting an eyebrow, "i don't feel any better!"

"we were fighting all the time, you know this!" there's a lump in my throat, and i can already feel the pressure between my eyes, working hard so the tears don't fall. i lower my voice again. "it was only a matter of time until one of us left, i just left first."

his gaze softens– probably after seeing my flooding waterline– and it's a while before he talks again, as if he's gathering his thoughts. thinking before he speaks for once, "i could never leave you" it's a low, gravely whisper, and i probably wouldn't have heard it if we weren't this close. "i wish you'd stayed."

it's a blow to my chest. like a gunshot, blood running down my ribcage. and for a second, i don't think i can breathe.

"i wish you'd done a lot of things, matty." my vision is blurry now, and i feel a single tear roll down my right cheek. i wish he would answer my calls when he stayed late at the studio. i wish he would listen to me when i said i felt neglected. i wish he would give me more security when i felt jealous of the girls partying with him and the boys while i was on the other side of the pond. i wish i stayed. when i can't sleep because i suddenly realize that my bed is too cold, too empty. when i wake up, and there are no kisses on my bare shoulder. when i have to climb over my kitchen counter to reach the can of pasta sauce on the top shelf. when i'm so anxious, and there's no one to hold me… "sometimes i wish i stayed too."

slowly, his hands cup my jaw. long fingers run lightly across my skin and wipe the lonely tear on my face. the hairs on my neck straighten up, and my heart stirs, beating a little faster. he carefully traces his right thumb over my lower lip, giving me time to reject and push him away. and then, his soft lips lock on mine. no warning. i feel his stubble rub against my chin and let out a sigh. there's a flutter on my lower stomach, burning. i should have pushed him away. instead, my fingers trail up his neck, nails brushing against his skin, and finally into his hair as he coaxes his hot tongue into my mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, of course. i can also taste the rum and lime from the mojito he had earlier. one of his hands travels down and he pulls me by the waist, bodies touching fully now. matty groans into my liquored mouth and i preen; it's good to know i still have that effect on him. that i can still make him let out those pretty sounds with just a kiss. it might be selfish, but we both are. because i bet he's proud too, that every touch of his still sends shivers down my spine. i pull out for air first, lungs already starting to burn. my fingers are still buried in his curls as he rests his forehead on mine, both breathing heavily.

"i need you, love," he whispers against my kiss-swollen lips, voice cracking. there's a smudge of lipgloss on the side of his mouth. it was no use reapplying it.

"matty, i can't," my voice comes out weak, just like how i feel.

"why not? you got somebody?" matty frowns, starting to sound a bit agitated.

i shake my head lightly "i don't."

"what is it?"

"i already told you" it's my turn to cup his face now, scuff prickling against my palms. "we already had this fight before, you get annoyed because i can't trust you, and i start yelling because you don't take me seriously!"

"of course i take you seriously!" he defends, already becoming increasingly exasperated. i just shake my head; there's no use going through this all over again. it hurt enough the first time. however, i still close my eyes, knowing that if i keep looking at him, the chances of me believing him are higher.

"i'm not built for this, matty," for being away from him, for time zones and phone calls, for pretty girls throwing themselves all over him "i'm not strong enough."

"look at me, baby." his hands moved from my waist up to cup my face again, thumb brushing lightly over my cheekbones. "please," i open my eyes.

"do you love me?" he asks. i realize his eyes are glossed over now "because i love you. so fucking much."

it will be easier if i say no, break his heart all at once. give him a reason to give up. it takes me a while, but i nod.

"yeah?" there's a glimmer of hope on his wet iris.

"i do, but-"

"then we'll figure it out" it's not that simple; just figuring it out is not enough. we hurt each other.

"we'll just end up in the same place, matty," i explain firmly. at this point, tears stream both of our faces. his chest heaves, and i try to contain another sob. he turns his face slightly to press his lips to my palm, just for a second.

"stay with me, please." our noses touch, and i can no longer distinguish his tears from mine. "i'll do better, i swear."

"it's not going to work."

"just for tonight at least, please," it comes out ragged, and he grazes his lips on mine, leaving a gentle but salty peck. "just for a little bit."

this shouldn't be happening. it's a mess, all of it. no matter how hard or how many times we try, even if we start all over again, we'll just end up in the same place. i know how i am and how he is. our love is tainted, a ticking bomb. so no matter how much i love him, how much i want him, i know we'll just go back to those screaming matches and broken pictures.

but if we keep doing this again and again, maybe then we won't have to say goodbye. at least i won't have to spend an entire lifetime missing him. so maybe just one night won't hurt, right? i've done it a million times. staying for just a little bit won't hurt…i think.

okay, just for a little bit.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty x reader #the 1975 fanfic

306 notes · View notes