#and i just finally idk felt comfortable enough to start demanding why. why he doesn’t rlly value me like that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

duskamethyst · 3 years

Text

mistakes.

a/n: totally for self indulgence... don’t know how is this gonna do though since i’m not sure if a lot of people has caught up with the manga but i’m pretty sure the fandom has seen him at least once and instantly thirst for him. so, idk what colour his eyes are (i can see blue but fanwiki says green so i stuck with that and in between). this comes with a package of me pointing out how big and buff he is and idc if you’ll get annoyed over it.

word count: 6.1k

genre: AU, nsfw, smut, angst if you squint

warnings: DARK – NONCON, coercion, corruption kink, daddy kink, size kink, choking, mind break, breeding, face fucking, slight dacryphilia, spitting, age gap, degradation, virgin reader, dilf toji manhandling reader

pairing: toji x f!reader

languages available: vietnamese.

summary: you want to surprise your bestie, megumi upon his arrival home from college but things take a terrible turn.

one.

heavy rain starts pouring as soon as you’ve reached the front doorstep of the fushiguro’s household. it was a dumb idea to not bring an umbrella with you despite the sky already starting to get dark when you left home earlier, but you were willing to push your luck and started sprinting once you felt prickles of droplets landing on your skin. with a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the heavy downpour from soaking your clothes.

drawing a deep and relieved sigh, you take a moment to regain control over your breathing before knocking the big front door. aware of the aftermath of the run, you fix your hair with your hands as you wait for megumi to come and greet you.

college made you and the male to part ways until phones were the only thing that kept you both up to date with each other’s lives. ironically enough, that’s the thing you forgot to bring when you left home in a rush and excitement to surprise your dear friend since he’s coming home today. you can vividly remember the last text you read; he was at the train station and you had to estimate the time of his arrival and the time he would be at home instead of asking him.

however, you’re caught slightly off guard when a different man opens the door for you instead. nonetheless, your lips curl to a sweet smile and there’s a brief of awkward silence before he speaks. you know him, but he doesn’t seem to remember you at all.

“you’re..?” with a tilt of his head, he looks down at you with a curious brow.

“it’s me, mr. fushiguro!” you offer your name, scrutinizing the expression on his face as his forehead crinkles while he jogs through his memories. then he glances at you and away in thought and back at you again with wide eyes when he finally recalls.

“oh, it’s you!” he ruffles your hair, a bit too enthusiastic in spite of his usual character that you were always familiar with. “i haven’t seen you in a while.”

you let out a little laugh, “yeah. i think i was fourteen the last time i saw you, mr. fushiguro. but it’s nice to see you again.”

“ah, yes. i had to go out of town and overseas for business a lot.” toji explains, rubbing the back of his neck, slightly bashful that he didn’t recognize the girl– no, woman before him even when you both have met plenty of times back when you often came to play with his son since you both were still little.

but can anyone blame him? time works wonders and now the little girl he used to know has grown to be much more mature and gorgeous and so... demure.

“yeah, megumi told me. speaking of him, is he home?” you finally inquire, bringing up the reason why you’re here in the first place.

two.

“why don’t you come in first? it’s cold outside.” he says before immediately turning around without answering your question. you close the door behind you and follow him closely, also somewhat intimidated when you realize how tall and huge he is– the tight fitting shirt stretches over his wide back and accentuating his physique even more. his arms are toned and popping with veins, not the way you used to remember at least, but you’ve never cared to notice. you’re not certain of his age either, but you’re pretty sure you’d be surprised if you find out.

“do you want coffee or tea?” toji suddenly breaks the silence as you nervously stand in the middle of the room to take a glimpse around the kitchen like it’s your first time being there, completely heedless over his gaze lingering up and down your curves, observing the figure of a girl who just freshly went through her womanhood and your lascivious beauty before he quickly turns around to grab two mugs from the cabinet.

“anything is fine.” you politely reply, fear of sounding somewhat demanding if you choose your preference despite being offered with choices.

“come on, you’re giving a man a hard time.” he jokes. “and sit down.”

he’s trying to extend his invitation though intentionally sounding assertive, but when he sees that you are quick to comply and scramble to your seat, he finds it to be... stimulating. at least he knows that you’re docile and he wonders if he could put it to the test. well, doesn’t matter. he will.

“coffee is good.” you smile, interrupting his train of thoughts and he pours the coffee from the pot before walking over to hand you your mug.

“unfortunately,” he sits down on the chair next to you. “megumi isn’t home right now.” toji puts his lips between the warm mug and softly blows before sipping his coffee. “he wanted to take a short trip to the store but i think he’s going to be stuck there for a while.” he looks out the window to only see pitch black staring back at him along with roaring thunder from the skies.

“oh.” you mutter, taking a careful sip of the hot brew. a little disappointed that you couldn’t see megumi yet, but his dad is right– it’s nearly a disaster outside but you find no point hanging around any longer either.

“is it too bitter? you don’t like it?” his voice laces with concern when he notices your face involuntarily scrunches up at the bitter taste.

you quickly shake your head, “no, no. it’s fine!” you reassure, afraid that he’ll take offense from the coffee he personally made. “besides, if megumi isn’t here, i–”

three.

“oh, it’s fine if you wait here for him.” he cuts you off. “unfortunately, we don’t have an extra umbrella.” the corners of his lips tug into a comforting smile and you are quick to relax into it.

you’ve always found toji to be quite frightening when you were young. he seemed like someone who never smiled, always had a sombre and intense vibe to him that no child would be too fond of. there was no exchange of words between you two, except for your constant brief hello and a smile that you did out of courtesy whenever you bump into him inside his house, even though he never replied anything back. not even a crack on the lips to return the smile.

but today is different. probably because he finds it easier for him to talk to an adult than a child and you’re relieved that you’re able to humor him in some way.

“so, are you and megumi a thing?” he abruptly asks and glances at you as he sips his coffee.

“no, we’re not!” you titter, waving a hand in dismissal as you bring up the mug to hide your face from embarrassment.

“oh?” a glint of amusement and surprise shines in his green eyes. “are you sure?”

you blink at the question as heat warms your cheeks from the thought of dating your best friend. “yes, megumi and i are just friends. really.”

“why? because you have a boyfriend?” toji pries, uncaring if he sounds intrusive to you and you only assume that he’s trying to strike up a conversation in some old fashioned way.

you just shake your head and laugh, “it’s not that, either.”

“hmm,” he props his elbow on the table leisurely, head resting on his fist as he looks at you intently, as if in search of something. “you’re pretty hard to figure out.”

“what do you mean? i don’t think so.” you smile, bringing up the mug to cover your face again so you can shy away from his intense gaze yet he thinks that it’s endearing and he finds himself grinning unwillingly.

toji notices how you always try to look away when you get so shy over some simple questions. you’re just oozing with purity and innocence of a maiden and something dark and twisted inside him is craving to violate every part of it.

“for a start, i can’t figure out why you don’t have one.” he says, tapping his fingertips on the table as his mind is running with sinful thoughts.

“hmm, maybe because i haven’t found anyone interesting yet.” you finally lock your eyes with his as you answer, not wanting to come off as rude if you keep on talking without looking directly at the man.

“isn’t my son good for you?” he couldn’t care less to be honest; he only plans to test the waters and is even more aroused to learn that you’ve never been touched by a man before and he feels like a wolf that’s just ready to pounce on a lost, little lamb.

“oh, no, no!” why do you have to get so bashful? he’ll fuck you on this table if you don’t stop. “we just don’t see each other that way.”

he’s so lost in his thoughts and carnal desires that whatever you’re babbling seems to go in one ear and out the other.

“then, what do you think of me?” he asks nonchalantly with a smirk plastered across his face.

you blink at him once, twice. “uhh, what?” is he suddenly getting self-conscious?

“you heard me. what do you think of me?” yet he doesn’t seem like it either.

“umm,” you ponder for a moment as you think of every adjective you can find in your head that wouldn’t come out offensive if you’re going to be honest with him. why would he even ask you such a thing anyways? and why would it matter to him? there’s nothing nice about him that you could exactly pinpoint from the past except for ‘scary’, ‘serious’ and some other things revolving around those.

“i thought that you were kinda... scary?” you blurt unsurely, mentally slapping yourself for even daring to say such a thing to him. unless it’s a vibe that he was going for, then you’d be relieved.

it isn’t exactly what toji wants to hear but he laughs heartily, “really?” a shiver runs down your spine when he looks at you again, his eyes glimmering with daunt. “but are you still scared of me?”

“uh, no.” you laugh. “you’re actually really nice, mr. fushiguro.”

“oh, that makes me feel better.” another grin etches on his scarred lips as he draws his gaze to your hands that are tensing and fiddling with your sleeves and your leg is bouncing; a perfect depiction of a trembling lamb cornered in his den– and he’s fucking starving.

has he got you on edge? are you nervous? good. “but i think you should.”

a lump catches in your throat and your heart drops, “i- what?”

the chair emits a screeching sound and it stumbles backwards as toji abruptly stands up from his seat. sheer panic causes you to rise on your feet too, and your eyes dart to the chair, and the male, back and forth as your mind tries to get a grasp on the situation.

“mr. fushiguro..?” you whisper meekly, taking a step away and around the table as you notice him taking a careful yet threatening inch closer.

“no, no. i’m not gonna hurt you.” toji (barely) reassures you as he continues creeping on his feet. but the sinister smile on his lips takes out every last bit of faith you had in him and the loud voice in your head keeps telling you to run for the door and never look back– fuck the rain.

as if he can read through your thoughts, he warns. “but i will, if you run.”

the smile on toji’s face turns smug when he sees you freeze in place upon his threat. being trapped under the unpleasant situation triggers your fight or flight responses and rapid heartbeat drums in your ears as you stand in trance and trepidation.

“that’s a good girl.” he coos, taking another step forward before you decide to throw a mug at him and dash towards the door as fast as you can. you assume that toji has pushed the table to the floor when you hear a loud thud, followed by his hasty footsteps as he catches up quickly behind you.

the door that is finally within arm’s reach suddenly changes into a mirage when a strong pair of arms grabs you by the waist and your body floats as it lifts onto his shoulder. the huge contrast between the size of your body and his should let you know; no matter how much you try to resist, he will never budge. yet, your arms and legs still flail around in an attempt to punch and kick him and you’re screaming for him to let you down and just hope that anyone is able to hear your cries in spite of the thunderstorm.

well, so much for luck.

“ah, ah. you don’t wanna do that.” there’s a mocking and amusing tone in his voice as he advises you. “you should save that energy later. juuust in a bit.”

“mr. fushiguro– stop–!” you sob, watching your only escape slowly disappears out of sight when he turns to a corner and into a dark room. your body bounces onto a mattress before toji’s huge, ripped figure swiftly looms above yours and ties your hands together with a belt and onto the headboard. at this point, the illuminating lights through the windows are the only thing that aids your vision and you have to rely more on your senses.

“shh,” he shushes you with a finger against your trembling lips. “the neighbors will hear. and if they do, i want it to be because you’re getting fucked so good. so be a good little girl for daddy, okay?”

regardless of being terrified, you find yourself cringing over the nickname he refers to himself. hopefully, he won’t ask you to call him that either. “mr. fushiguro– i– please don’t do this. i- i won’t tell anyone.”

toji tsks, taking his sweet time to admire your smaller body underneath his– the exposed, soft skin on your neck waiting to be bruised, chest heaving as your breath comes deep and short, and legs pressing together to secure your modesty; though will prove to be futile later.

“i know you won’t.” his thumb grazes against your lips, mesmerized by its plushness as he imagines it wrapped prettily around his throbbing cock. “are you a virgin?”

you only nod your head, eyes wavering as you look at his darker ones before catching it shine with interest.

“never had anything inside here?” he asks again, pressing your cunt against the fabric of your pants with his fingers. the dark room makes it hard to see, but your cheeks are turning red from humiliation and you look away before shaking your head no.

“are you sure?” toji’s thumb presses down on your clit and causes your body to shudder apprehensively.

“o-only my finger.” you audibly whisper through the white noise outside.

oh, how exhilarating. guess the innocent looking ones can be lewd too. don’t you know that a cock would make you feel better? a big cock like his is definitely what you need. just a finger wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you! poor little thing.

“then i got to teach you a few things, right? it’ll come handy later. boys love girls with experiences.” he promptly strips you off from your pants before carelessly throws it to the ground and kneels between your legs to keep you wide and open for him.

“you like to be touched here?” his finger reaches down to ghost over your clothed clit, observing you with lust filled eyes while you turn away from his gaze and remain unresponsive. “daddy is a very impatient person so i suggest you answer me.”

toji pinches your clit, and your body squirms with an elicited yelp. you can only guess (and hope) that he wasn’t referring to him touching you there but you answer anyway, “y-yes.”

he hums in satisfaction, moving down until his head stops between your thighs and in front of your sex. toji grabs your thigh and spreads them apart before flattening his warm tongue against your clothed bud, causing a shiver to run down your spine and it quickly draws your attention to him.

your face heats up in embarrassment when you see toji’s head dipped in front of your pussy, but he’s only calm and teasing as his jade eyes stare up to lock with yours to look for a reaction.

“you’ve never felt a tongue over here either, hm?” he sneers, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and you mentally curse yourself for feeling slightly aroused over his ministrations.

“just let me go, please.” you try to close your legs, but to no avail when his rough hands push them away.

“you know, if you keep asking for ridiculous things,” toji tuts and grasps your supple thighs hard, nails digging painfully on your skin. “i might have to get rough on you. but you’re a smart girl and you wouldn’t like that, right?”

“n-no.” you choke and fidget.

“good. because i only want you to feel good.” he offers a gentle smile and kisses the dented mark on your thigh. “so, let’s start over. you haven’t answered me.”

you nibble your lip hesitantly and look anywhere but him, “no.”

“see? all the more reason for me to show you what you’ve been missing out.” he chuckles, tugging your underwear to the side impatiently.

“fuck. such a pretty pussy.” he growls at the sight of your bare cunt. there isn’t a lot of slick yet, but it’s fine, he’ll make you get there. that’s the point of this whole ordeal, right?

your body quivers naturally once you feel the foreign sensation; wet, warm muscle prodding your puffy folds up to your clit and circling on it with the tip of his tongue teasingly as he observes you from below.

your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are caught between your teeth as you try to restrict your whines from the undeniable pleasure rushing in your veins and he doesn’t stop– your pathetic attempt to deny him and your sentiments only drives him to push you over the edge even more.

with a harsh suck on your clit, he manages to get you to squeal and you can feel him smirking underneath you. toji flattens his tongue and laps off your juices again before he takes you by surprise when he suddenly slides a finger inside your tight, wet cunt.

“shh. it’ll feel good, baby girl.” he comforts when he hears you whimper at the pain inflicted and true enough, it soon begins to feel good. you’ve fingered yourself plenty of times before, but it feels different when he does it for you– his finger is thick and long that it reaches deeper than you’ve ever been able to.

toji notices you start to become quiet so he slides in another digit, eliciting yet another sob from you. the warm and moist cunny makes his cock twitch and he finds himself getting eager. your back arches from the bed when toji curls his fingers to stroke the bumpy tissues of your g-spot with every drag.

“feels good, yeah?” he grins arrogantly as your legs tremble under his hold. your breathing has turned erratic and your toes are curling as your mouth gapes in pitiful, broken cries that are just music to his ears.

“answer me, sweetheart.” he presses down a thumb on your neglected clit, reminding you that he is not keen on being ignored and disputed.

“y-yes.” you finally choke through pants and shame. though the answer comes out in hesitance, your body is more honest– pussy sopping and eliciting obscene squelches and it’s enough to satisfy him for now.

your head thrashes side to side as you feel yourself about to tip over but you still refuse to beg toji for a release.

“hah– fuck!” you whimper loudly when toji oh-so-generously sucks your clit again, fingers pumping faster inside your cunt, making your body feel even more tense with overbearing stimulation before finally pushing you over the edge and you break into a silent scream.

toji laps off your slick before he pulls out his finger into his mouth and licks them clean.

“that’s a good girl. why don’t you taste yourself?” he climbs on top of you while you gasp for air from the intense orgasm and he easily pulls you into a fervour, sloppy kiss. you can feel the wet slick on his chin and you can taste yourself at the same time as he intertwines his tongue with yours.

four.

out of spite and vexation, you found courage to bite his tongue hard and toji instantly pushes himself from you, his dark eyes express astonishment and agitation.

“fucking bitch.” he curses as his eyes narrow at you displeasingly before he takes off his pants and briefs to release his cock from its confinements. his cock is throbbing and thick, and you can almost see a trickle of precum on its head. you crumple at the sight as regret and anxiety washes over you.

“don’t worry, it’ll fit.” he says cockily upon the worrisome look on your face. “but since you like it rough, i’m sure you want to choke on it first.”

“no– i’m sorry!” you shake your head but toji only lets out a scornful laugh as he disregards your pleas and props himself on the knees and over your neck.

toji slaps the tip of his cock on your lips, gesturing you to open your mouth but you purse them into a flat, thin line and refuse to obey.

“open up. it’s a part of your lesson after all.” he snaps before squeezing your cheeks together. “it’ll get worse if you don’t listen to me.”

“d-don’t wa-ant to– flea-shh.” you whimper and toji emits a long, deep sigh as he releases his grip.

“i don’t like repeating myself.” his voice is laced with malice and chills crawls up your spine as his eyes look down at you demeaningly before you slowly open your mouth trepidatiously and wait for his next order.

“no teeth. i think you’d know that much.” he patronizes before sliding his cock inside your mouth and he hisses as the warmth engulfs his throbbing cock. “that’s it. now, suck.”

and you have no choice but to obey submissively. you slightly lift your head and struggle to take his length as much as you can before running your tongue around to feel each prominent vein.

“i said suck, whore.” he commands through gritted teeth. you hollow your cheeks, compressing his fat cock tight between them as you bop your head up and down.

“fuuuck, just like that.” toji groans as his hand reaches the top of your head and caresses you softly. you start to pick up the pace, slobbering his dick with so much saliva that it begins to seep from the corners of your mouth and it’s so wet and obscene– just the way he likes it.

“it almost makes me think that this isn’t your first time.” his head falls back and hips begin to jerk until the tip hits the back of your throat, forcing you to take more than you could. you choke as tears start to well up in your eyes and the bedhead shakes when you try to tug your wrists.

“what’s wrong? can’t take my fat cock?” he scoffs arrogantly. “you gotta work on your gag reflex, sweetheart.”

the muffles from your throat vibrate against his dick and toji groans in pleasure that he subconsciously rocks his hips, slapping your chin with his balls. your vision has become blurry and breathing becomes harder as you let him abuse your throat and your jaws ache before he abruptly pulls out and you can finally gasp for precious air.

“look at you,” his cock twitches with excitement when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks from your doe eyes and he wipes them away with his thumb, making you flinch slightly, “are you sorry for making daddy mad?”

toji always tries to articulate each word with appease. it’s never soothing per se when you can sense the threat entwining in his voice and it’s fucking you psychologically.

and it deems to be successful when you’re already trembling in fear underneath him.

you’re uncertain whether he prefers you to speak or not, but your throat is sore so you meekly nod your head in response. it’s better than nothing, to be honest.

“good. open your mouth.”

your mouth is already parted for air but you assume that he wants to put his cock in again. submissively, yet dreadfully, you open your mouth wider and await for him to shove his cock back in but you’re surprised when toji spits in your mouth instead.

it’s warm and disgusting; you’re just left gaping and repelled, and you want to spit it out but toji squeezes your cheeks together.

“swallow.” he orders. you quickly brace yourself and close your eyes before cringing as you gulp down the mix of saliva in your mouth and toji releases his grip once he’s certain that you’ve ingested.

“i could’ve made you swallow my cum but i’d feel bad,” he chuckles sardonically. “what do you have to say?”

“t-thank you.” you whisper vaguely and he accustoms his face to a simper.

“good girl.” toji smashes his lips onto yours, yet his eyes are locked with yours ominously for a brief second– a telltale that he expects you not to pull up another stunt before they close as he deepens the kiss.

obviously, nothing would benefit you whether you comply or defy, not until you’ve catered for his insatiable lechery. but you’ve learned your lesson and although you’re compelled, you finally relent as every ounce of resistance begins to drift from you.

toji breaks the kiss and shifts lower, peppering greedy kisses on your neck before he catches the soft, chaste skin between his teeth to suck and form purplish bruising marks. he lifts up your shirt over your head and hastily unclasps your bra, causing you to shudder once the cold air hits your exposed breasts.

large, calloused hands press your mounds before his mouth latches on one perky tit, while the other is tweaked with his fingers. experienced tongue draws circles and sucks punishingly, alternating with the other nipple. the headboard rattles as you keen over the stimulation and your eyes open in dismay when you feel something hard prodding your clit.

he moves lower and spits on your cunt before propping on his knees to take off his tight shirt– through subdued glow, you can make out the outline of his toned abs and broad chest as his large build towers menacingly in front of you; even when he’s not standing on his feet.

“listen. daddy is going to release the binds, but do you promise to be good?” he asks, smearing the saliva with his cockhead and against your slit.

“yes. i- i promise.” you murmur appallingly; as if you have a choice in the matter.

toji leans over to unrestrain you then he observes you, expecting you to put up a fight but instead, you just remain still underneath him.

he grins in satisfaction, getting off to the fact that you’ve fallen into submission before he shifts back into his prior position and bends your knees up to line his cock with your hole. a feeling of triumph stirs inside him when he’s reminded that he’s the ‘chosen’ one to defile your innocence.

“stop! it hurts–!” you wail and your hands clench the sheets when you feel toji’s thick cock stretching your virgin cunt slowly, but he ignores you, groaning at the warmth that engulfs him and the tight walls that clenches him as he selfishly pushes through.

it burns. so bad. your chest heaves rapidly and you screw your eyes shut as your face twists to express pain and uncomfort. “please, please–! i can’t–”

“yes, you can.” his tone is indifferent as he holds you down since your body keeps on wincing until he finally fills you to the brim and he can see a bulge poking on your tummy.

“fuck. haven’t been inside a virgin cunt for a while.” he mutters under his breath. “now, i know it hurts but i promise you’ll enjoy it. it’s just too bad that you get to have a big cock as your first.” he snickers nonchalantly and leans down closer to your face, making you jolt when you feel it inching deeper.

“if it makes you feel better– you’re fucking tight. just the way daddy likes it.” toji whispers in your ear but you can only freeze in fear and agony.

toji hovers above you, his hands firmly grip the headboard in front of him and he begins to move his hips; thrusting in and out of your pussy.

your fists clench the sheets harder as a loud cry rips from your throat, “no! it hurts! please!”

but toji doesn’t seem to mind, his cyan orbs stare down at you coldly yet in focus as he relishes over the plush walls clamping down on his cock.

“stop! stop– i- i don’t want–!” you continuously wail as you writhe in anguish before he suddenly stops pounding and he wraps his hand around your neck instead, instantly drawing your attention to him as he applies pressure in his hold.

“if you don’t stop whining like a bitch in heat, i will fucking breed you like one.” he warns through gritted teeth, clearly agitated over your act of defiance.

“you want this. you’re going to love this.” his words are sick endeavours to coerce you into another round of complete submission.

but what else can you do? toji’s hand is so large that his middle finger and thumb almost reach each other as it clasps around your frail neck and you know he can easily crush your windpipes if he wants to.

“say it. you. want. this.” he seethes.

“i. want. this.” you barely croak each word and they’re slowly influencing your cloudy mind. as soon as he releases you, you soothe the pain around your throat with your hand as you gasp for air.

“fuck. don’t think i didn’t feel you clenching around my cock just now.” he sneers and situates himself again before ruthlessly and steadily continuing where he left off.

you only close your eyes and bite your lips hard to stop whimpering as you mentally comfort yourself and dissolve every inch of your sanity; i’m going to enjoy it, it’s going to feel good soon, i want this, i want this.

soon enough, toji notices that your muscles have relaxed– suggesting that you’ve finally caved in as pleasure overtakes you so he fucks you deeper and faster before he falls on his elbows and you can feel his bangs tickling your face.

“that’s it, baby. you make daddy feel so fucking good.” he praises between grunts. you can feel the veins on his cock dragging against your walls and he’s right, it feels so good and your lips open in breathless pants.

you find your arms to loosely wrap around his neck and your legs around his waist as if clinging onto him for dear life as toji ruts into your cunny like a feral beast.

“you like it, yeah? this is what you want, isn’t it?”

through hazy mind, you can only manage to whimper an audible ‘yes’ as you feel an odd, yet almost familiar knot twisting in your lower stomach begging to snap and your nails dig into the skin of his broad back upon the intense sensation shooting through your body.

a low, deep guttural sound leaves his throat when he feels your nails sinking and scratching his back– it prompts him to quicken his pace and you can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix over and over, causing your back to arch simultaneously.

“i’m– i’m gonna–!” you keen as your body trembles in anticipation and your sopping cunt is clenching on his throbbing cock like a vice.

“fuck yeah. cum on daddy’s cock.” toji urges and nips on the sensitive skin of your neck to tip you over the edge and your pupils blow wide as you break into a scream. despite being your second orgasm for the night, an overwhelming euphoria washes over you for the first time of your life; is this what it feels like? you don’t know, you’ve never had one (at least not from a cock) and your pussy is just fluttering, pulsing and creaming around his cock.

“hah– fuck. good girl.”

toji remains to snap his hips, fucking you through your high as you’re left in daze from your orgasm. toji can feel his balls tensing and his thrusts are turning sporadic as he inches closer to his climax. your whines and nonsense babbles are drowned by the feeling of pleasure that’s enveloping him and he doesn’t even have the resolution to listen to you gibbering when your cunny is just milking him, sucking him in like it doesn’t want to let go and he just wants to give what your greedy pussy asks for; to fill it up with his thick load until it’s full and leaking out of you.

and daddy knows best, after all.

“shit– i won’t be able to hold it any longer. say you want daddy’s cum.” he grunts.

you’ve partly snapped out of your daze when you hear his voice again, and though you can’t see his face that’s already buried next to your head, you’re petrified and it’s making you feel dizzy and suffocated.

“i– n-no. please not–” you sob through your raw throat.

but toji doesn’t listen and you don’t know if you’re relieved or not because if he does, you know that it’ll tick him off and it’s going to do you more harm than good– but you’re scared and it hurts, that you unwillingly start to snivel again.

“shut up. you’re gonna take it like a good cumslut.” he shoves two long fingers in your mouth, causing you to choke on them.

“daddy’s gonna cum in this pretty pussy and you’re gonna fucking take it.”

toji’s grunts ring in your ears and you’re able to feel his cock twitching inside you before he finally releases hot ropes of cum– filling up and defiling your womb.

“y-you came inside..” you mumble once he takes out his fingers as you’re left entirely devastated and stupefied.

“fucking did.” he pants, lifting his body up from you and pulls out his cock to shove back the dribbling cum that’s leaking from your abused cunny with his finger. you would wince but your mind is already numb and your body is sore that you can do nothing but burn holes through the ceiling above.

“don’t look so sad.” the room resonates with his chuckles and he gets off the bed to put back on his pants. toji walks over to the nightstand where a pack of cigarettes await him and he puts one between his lips and you can hear the flicking sounds of a lighter as he tries to burn the tip.

“i can promise you that other guys wouldn’t be rough as me but one thing’s for sure,” he inhales the tobacco and exhales in a gratifying manner, “that will stay as the best fuck of your life.”

fat tears stream down your cheeks and you curl on your side, protecting your now-ruined-body as you quietly sob and your mind takes you back from how the ordeal even started and causes you to end up where you are right now– and it only makes you cry harder.

toji only lets out an exasperated sigh. he grabs his shirt from the floor and throws it on his shoulder before reaching the door.

“megumi won’t be coming home ‘til tomorrow. he said something about the train and the weather, so you can leave when you’re done. you know your way out.”

you hear the door close shut behind him and you’re left in the dark with nothing but the smell of his tobacco and the sounds of the drizzling rain accompanying you as you drown in your thoughts and griefs.

how many mistakes have you made today? four? five? or more?

you’ve lost count and you question yourself over again until you’re no longer able to care.

what’s done is done.

enjoyed this work? wanna buy me coffee? :)

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realcube · 3 years

Text

haikyuu!! boys with a s/o that becomes clingy/affectionate while drunk

characters: kyōtani, kenma, iwaizumi, matsukawa and bokuto

thank you anon for this marvellous request mwah

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP!

tw// drinking, suggestive themes, sexual references, swearing

Kentarō Kyōtani

kyōtani was used to having a cool, laid-back s/o who was just as awkward about physical touch as he was

i mean, that’s kinda a part of the reason he liked you so much - so y’all could get over your awkwardness together

so imagine his surprise when his usually level-headed, calm s/o came stumbling out of the club, a blubbering mess and threw themselves into his arms, wailing something about a maths test

THE AMOUNT OF EMOTIONS THAT FLOODED HIS MIND IN THAT ONE MOMENT OMFG ADFGHJKL

he was like ‘omg why are they touching me? i kinda like it- wait are they crying? tf? i ain’t ever seen them cry before- should i help them? lord everyone is looking at us now. so what the fuck do i do- AYE DON’T TOUCH ME THERE’

so he had no choice but to dip with you flung over his shoulder lol

he took you back to your shared apartment and forced you to drink some water and instead of ordering a take-out, he just gave you his leftover burrito which he took to the club smh

it was probably cold

but that was the best he could think of at the time bc he simply needed to shut you up with food bc the alcohol in your system was causing you to become especially touchy, hence resulting in kyōtani getting especially aroused

but the last thing he’d do is fuck you while you’re drunk and i firmly believe that despite the fact kyōtani is a bit of a lout - he still has like a basic moral compass

but i mean if you kept being so damn suggestive then it was gonna be a lot harder for him to resist his urges

you were rubbing him up and shit, calling him every pet name in the book so ofc he just stuck a burrito in your mouth and went ‘stfu 😡’

the painful part was that he was silently enjoying it too (┬┬﹏┬┬)

(though, he was red from blushing lol, not anger)

and he wasn’t used to it either so obviously he was gonna get flustered, i mean, everything was happening all at once

oh and you told him ‘i love you’ and he literally combusted like lord have mercy on this man

just that morning you were calling him your ‘annoying rat boyfriend’ (jokingly, ofc) and now you love him?-

that wasn’t the first time you told him that you loved him but he was still blushing none the less

and he stammered out a ‘love you too’ PRAYING that you wouldn’t remember any of this the following day

anyway, he cuddled you to sleep and railed you as soon as you sobered up - the end ❤

Kenma Kozume

pov: you’re kenma happily being a wallflower in the club then your s/o approaches you, demanding for you to fuck them

- ok, end of POV -

anyway, your speech was slurred so kenma wasn’t really sure if that was what you were asking him to do but if it was, he would’ve happily obliged if it wasn’t for the fact you were clearly drunk

mans was blushing though

bc y’all hardly ever do it but now - all of a sudden - you were tightly wrapped around him, garbling erotic threats into his ear

kenma was worried at first but you were like..really weak

so it wasn’t hard to get you off his torso, usher you out of the club and grip your hand as he ordered a taxi

also kenma had read enough wattpad fanfictions to know how to deal with someone while they’re drunk

but none of those fanfictions ever mentioned a single thing about how to deal with yourself while your partner is drunk

like seriously..he was in pain

both from the throbbing erection he had and the aching embarrassment he felt - both stemming from the fact you tried to give him a lap dance in taxi ✋ please oml

anyway, he took you back to his apartment and insisted that you have a few slices of the left-over pizza in the fridge along with a glass of water

after you changed into your pyjamas, you had clearly sobered up slightly as you could now compose coherent sentences

but that wasn’t any better for him bc now you were draped over him, whimpering into his ear about how much you love him

‘i’m so lucky to have you, kenma. i love you so much. you remind me of my first cat - you’re such a cat- i mean, blessing..you’re such a blessing.’

ngl, at that point he would be at a loss for words, just deciding to hug you until you fall asleep

like he finds it so cute that you’re finally opening up to him about how you feel as you’re usually quite composed and restrained

but also- what does he do now?

you eventually fell asleep in his arms and the next day, you woke up to kenma having made breakfast and telling you how much he adores you which was..confusing, to say the least

he told you about how you acted when you were drunk and to say you were embarrassed would be an understatement

also, he’ll tease you about it for the rest of your life ;)

Hajime Iwaizumi

literally all you had to do was send him a text like ‘iwa...,,.,...ily so mycj ❤’’ and he’s already waiting in the line to get into the club lol

he marches in there, finds you, grabs your hand and drags you home

let’s hope that your friends know what iwaizumi looks like so they don’t have to just watch a random guy haul you out the club-

and tries to act all like angry iwaizumi >:( but when you are trailing behind him, muttering about how amazing he is, he becomes more like angy iwa grrr (* ￣︿￣)

by that, i mean that angry iwaizumi would bring you home and lecture on how irresponsible it is to get so intoxicated

but angy iwa just takes care of you but with a disapproving scowl

and angry iwaizumi would make nasty, bitchy remarks about how inappropriate your outfit is

while angy iwa would be like ‘babe, your outfit is lovely but maybe wear something different next time, idk....’

either way, he takes good care of you

he makes sure you eat (and he cooks good food btw - he doesn’t make you eat leftovers lmao)

he lets you change into more comfortable clothes

he ensures that you don’t die in the shower

and he forces you to go to bed

but all of that is rather difficult when you’re clinging to him like your life depends on it, raving on about how sweet of a boyfriend he is and covering his face sloppy kisses

his original plan was to go train some more in his gym (yes, there is a gym in y’alls house-) but when you were peppering his cheek in kisses, begging him to stay with you for whatever reason, of course he didn’t have the balls to leave

so he ended up laying like a log in bed as you cuddled up to him like koala, resting your head in his chest and allowing him to run his hand through your hair as you slept

in that moment - as he stared down at your tranquil figure - he realised how grateful he was for moments like these, as he finally got see a side of you that he knew you’d almost never exhibit when you’re sober

like yeah, you often tell him how much you love him but he can always tell that it’s as if you’re setting aside your pride to say such a thing but now, you’re gushing on about it with the most genuine look in your eyes, he can tell that you’re being completely sincere

and to say that he adores it would be an understatement

so yeah, you were kind of a pain while drunk but you were also the most adorable thing that iwaizumi had ever laid his eyes on (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Issei Matsukawa

ok so the only reason matsukawa wasn’t getting drunk with you was bc the first time y’all got drunk together he got fined for public indecency and you got done for public intoxication

so you decided that it was best (for your wallets) if you took turns getting tipsy

emphasis on ‘tipsy’ bc you both went to the bar together (along with a few friends) and you promised matsukawa that you’d only have a few drinks

so please explain to him why he is now having to carry you bridal style out of the bar because you are too hammered to walk properly

and he was kinda grumpy bc he had to leave his friends mid-conversation bc not only were you pestering him but also, the erotic things you were whispering in his ear caused him to get a boner

and he was getting weird looks from people as he carried you home but that was the least of his problems tbh- he didn’t even notice lol

the biggest issue on his mind rn was the fact that you made him hard yet you can’t help him bc you’re drunk smh

like he was tempted at first bc you seemed down to do it but he quickly came back to reality and realised how morally incorrect that’d be

so he was mumbling curses the whole way home just to tune you out bc if he paid any more attention to the racy promises you were muttering in his ear- he’d explode

he’s alright at taking care of you like he isn’t iwaizumi’s level of caring but he’s a close second, i mean he’s gotten drunk plenty of times so he knows the basics

he was like ‘drink water idk lol ’

anyway, once he handled himself he wasn’t too fazed by your lustful advances

and he was so smug about it too deadass like ‘keep talkin’ me up, (y/n), you ain’t getting shit until you’re sober.’

smh ANYWAY he thinks you’re so charming when you’re like lovey-dovey drunk but SO annoying when you’re horny drunk bc like- he can’t get some (T_T)

Kōtarō Bokuto

best for last 👌

ok anyway he’s an athlete and he doesn’t need alcohol to have a good time- he’s forever drunk tbh- drunk on life :)

so while you’re getting hammered with your pals, he’s doing stupid shit while sober lol

once you both rendezvous outside the club to head home and you’re absolutely steamin- he’s just like ‘hi, babe! how’s your night been?’

SO OBLIVIOUS OML

anyway, he drives back to y’alls house and since you’re fatigued at first, you spent 90% of the car ride sleeping

but when you get home, more awake, you’re all up on him

but you’re not like sensual drunk- more like..emotional drunk but with love 🥺

so basically you are sobbing into his chest about whatever and bc he is an such empath he will start crying too, or at least get a bit emotional

you could say something like, ‘omg, bo. i hardly get to see you because you’re at work so often- i wish i could spend more time with you. i miss you so much’ ╯︿╰

and he would deadass reply whole-heartedly while weeping into your shoulder, ‘I’M QUITTING VOLLEYBALL, (Y/N)!!’

(ok, so maybe he was a bit tipsy too- but like..definitely not has drunk as you)

he has no idea where to start when it comes to taking care of you but he tries (´◡` ‘)

at the very least, he ensures that you don’t having any more alcohol and that you don’t die somehow

he’s v overprotective though

you could be getting a fork to eat your instant-noodles with and he’ll be like

‘apologies ✋ but i cannot allow you to handle such a dangerous weapon while intoxicated. maybe eat with a spoon instead, idk.’ /h

other than that, he just cuddles you to sleep and deals with you in your badly hungover state the next day

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aetherarf · 3 years

Note

Hi hello i saw your requests are open!! And i dont know if this is allowed but can you do genshin boys caught cheating and they played it off and later on they started to regret what they did and when they found the reader, the reader is now happy or disappeared or idk ITS UP TO YOU TO DEICIDE HEHEHEHE IM SORRY I LOVE READING ANGST SM SO ITS OKAY IF YOU WONT TAKE IT !! YOUR WORKS ARE REALLY GREAT BTW!!! (more than great i mean *chefs kiss*)

Yes I've finally gotten to this one! I hope it's angsty enough for you 😘

[[ WARNING: CHEATING, NON-LETHAL INJURY, ALCOHOL ]]

[[ Summary: Kaeya, Childe, and Diluc end up cheating on their partner... They get caught, not by their partner, but someone else. As the days pass, they begin to regret it... only for their little secret to get back to their lover...

Note, Kaeya's is longest/wordiest cuz I didn't realize I should probably be a bit more brief... Kaeya favouritism lol.

Overall Word Count: 3'602 [rip me]

Kaeya Word Count: 1'841

Childe Word Count: 950

Diluc Word Count: 811 ]]

Kaeya

Distantly, he remembers an old saying from Crepus, in response to his question-- "Why do people drink so much?"

"Well... Alcohol doesn't solve anything, but it can make you forget questions you'd rather not think about."

He understood that as he got older. Why stress, and think about things he could not control? ... Well, maybe he should deal with them, but that's easier said than done when his entire life was on the line. Every night, in the tavern, he drank to forget. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.

And, somehow, he had forgotten more than he'd like to admit. On his lap, a beautiful woman, and he was tugged to a back closet of the Angel's Share. She tasted sweet, like wine and sugar. If it wasn't for an intruder, ( despite the fact that he was the one intruding into staff-only area ) he likely would have had a far better time, to completely lose himself in his inebriation.

"K-Kaeya!" Uh oh, as his vision focused, he could see Diluc's unmistakable silhouette, with that fluffy red hair and broad shoulders. "You," he pointed to the woman, "Out." The woman, not wanting to envoke the wrath of Sir Ragnvindr, running out immediately. But, Diluc didn't let Kaeya out, not that he was fighting to get out. Instead, he walked closer.

"What have you done?" he asked, voice low and full of rage. However, Kaeya could only smile,

"What do you mean, Master Ragnvindr?" He asked, all sly.

"You cheater," he snapped, "You do know that wasn't your partner? The one you swore yourself to? They were just looking for you, you know." He was nearly yelling, forcing his voice low...

And that, that idea, the realization of everything hit him harder than even the biggest bomb's that Klee had ever made. He... did.

"Look," The world was no longer warm an fuzzy, just a little shift away from his normal reality, everything crashing down. The thoughts that haunted him when you slept so peacefully in his arms, when he would see the knights laughing and smiling together, the ever-haunting knowledge that he was alone amongst them...

The way only you did not have that odd look in your eye, of wonder upon seeing something unique, or of something alien that terrified... You only looked at him as what he wished to be seen-a person.

And here he went, fucking it all up.

"Look," he said again, tears in his eye, "You, you can't tell anyone," He all but snapped at Diluc, who's eyes widened in shock, "I-I wouldn't tell if you did it, you have to do the same for me," he promised, desperately trying to think of what to do...

"Kaeya, this isn't about me, this is about you and-and them," Diluc didn't even need to say the name, "You're better than this, I won't tell, but only if you do."

Kaeya's brows furrowed, he wasn't used to feeling so... betrayed. Normally, it was expected, but this... but this was different! Wasn't it...?

"It has nothing to do with you, I... I can deal with it on my own, 'Luc." He insisted, straightening out his back. He was only a tiny bit taller than Diluc, but he wanted to hold it over him, to prove he wasn't going to let him use him over his... his mistake.

"Kaeya," his voice was... softer. Kaeya didn't want to hear this voice, this consoling voice. Not after everything, not... not like this!

"Fuck off, Diluc," he snapped, pushing him to the wall as he stormed out, "You made it clear you want nothing to do with me, don't try now. Not like this," he demanded, seeing Diluc look at him, eyes wide... shocked.

"Fine. Get out and don't come back." Diluc hissed, voice much lower, his eyes glazed over. Kaeya almost wanted to yell at him, to keep fighting... But, no, no, he didn't. He couldn't do that here, not when he was too desperate to figure out what to do, leaving through the front of Angel's Share, slamming the door behind him.

And he ran. He didn't know why, he wasn't headed home, but he just... he felt like he was running from his mistakes, the wind biting at his face, until he finally skidded into an alleyway, his back against the wall, his hand put up to his mouth, biting at the base of his thumb to stifle the sobs that wanted to burst from his chest. It hurt, oh, it hurt, but it felt... right, it felt like he should hurt, his teeth clasping harder onto his hand, tears rolling from his eye as he roughly breathed through his nostrils, his brain desperately trying to figure out what to do, what to say, what to think... But it all only ended up in a jumbled mess, of black and red and tears and crying.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but by the time he stopped biting his hand, it felt... hot, for some reason, and as he looked at his hand...

Red. Bite marks. His teeth had sunk in so deep, his skin was broken and reddened and bloody. He couldn't even feel the pain, like when the burning fire had turned to grey, dead embers... he felt nothing, his own bodily sensations distant in an odd way.

He doesn't even know why, but upon seeing his blood ooze from his flesh, he swing his fist towards the brick, hearing it clatter against it. He stared at his hand, pulling off his glove to stare, dazed, at his busted knuckles.

Holding his fist close to his chest, he finally walked home.

If I don't tell them, he thought, I can live with it. I've lived with worse. I live with worse.

He didn't want to.

But he did that-he cheated. He cheated on the one person that could make everything feel okay, like he never hurt anyone, like he wasn't from a distant corrupt land, like he wasn't the monster he was told to be.

Should he say it? Tell directly?

...

It wouldn't matter if he told immediately or in a week. He-he trusted you'd understand, he could... He could figure it out. He just, his brain was both sinking and floating, drunk yet sober, he wasn't in his own body right about now. He was somewhere gone, and he couldn't be making any decisions.

Shambling his way home, he opened the front door... And hesitated, listening. Looking. You weren't in eyeshot or earshot, so... He could wrap up his hand before he gave everything away, or at least, his temper tantrum of sorts. He rummaged around before finding that small first aide kit, cleaning the wounds of his own cause, and bandaged up his hand... for a second, he tensed, hearing your footsteps, but he opted to finish wrapping it before you could see.

"Kaeyaaa..." You whined, "You didn't come to bed..." You walked over, hugging him from the side, resting your head on him. How sweet you were, how cuddly... As though nothing happened.

"I'll come to bed in a minute," he said, "I just need to finish this real quick."

You peeked over to look at whatever he was messing with, and woke up in an instant, reaching over to his hand as he was tucking the end of the bandage away, so it wouldn't unravel so easily. "What happened?" You asked, tenderly holding his injured hand with both of yours.

"Nothing to be worried about," he reassured, trying to hide how his voice shook, "Just wanted to patch it up."

With one hand, you gently stroked his, and then lifted it to your mouth to give a loving kiss atop it. "Are you okay to come to bed?" You asked, still tired from the late hour.

"Of course," he wanted to kiss you, badly, but he refrained. You shouldn't, Kaeya, your mouth is dirty.

The two of you walked to bed, he undressing just enough to comfortably lie down...

Feeling how you snuggled up to him, sighing in such comfort now that he was home, and how you soon became a weight upon him as you sunk back into sleep...

However, he did not sleep that night. Or the next, or the next... Or the next.

Days, truly, passed. He did not sleep, he was not sleeping, Jean even scolded him for blacking out more than once, stunned when one second he was standing, and the next he was on the ground, no memory of having fallen, with the knights consoling him.

He started staying later, he had not gone back to the Angel's Share. Many mornings, he was not there when you woke. You knew he was busy, but... this was horrific.

Eventually, two weeks have passed. He steeled his nerves, and he was going to talk to you about it. He didn't want to live like this, with this guilt and agony upon the things he could not fix--but he could fix this. He could-he could make this better.

But, as he walked into your shared home... an eerie silence. As he looked around, it felt like... a lot was missing.

Everything that was missing, from simple objects placed about to pictures on the walls, were all yours. Of you.

Save for a single picture frame, with shattered glass, and a picture of him and you, smiling. It was one of the more coherent pictures the two of you had made.

Beside it, a note.

Dear Kaeya,

A woman came to me recently, telling me of you. Of how you kissed her, and nearly slept with her at the Angel's Share. She was unaware of the fact that you had a partner, and had finally found and confided in me about this.

I don't know what made you cheat on me like this, but worse still you've been avoiding me, and you wouldn't even tell me. If I knew... then we could have talked about it, we could have gotten counseling. We could have fixed this--fixed us. But you were gone.

I don't want to hear you say it, say that you don't love me or you don't want to be with me, so I left. I'm not in Mondstadt, I've gone to live with someone I can actually trust. Please don't look for me, I need time. Your lack of communication was enough to tell me you don't care enough to fix this.

Sincerely, Your former beloved.

Tears truckled down onto the paper, and he nearly crushed it in a single fist... But, no, he couldn't, he couldn't destroy the last connection he had to you, no matter how badly he wanted to rip out his eye, so he never had to look at it ever again. He collapsed the floor, the letter, and the framed picture falling to the ground, a broken, loud laughter rung through the house as tears fells down his face, maniacal in nature...

He wanted to be alone, and gone, for a long... long time.

Childe

Childe didn't understand the meaning of 'exclusive' as well. He loved you, dearly, but to him, love was a thing to be given more freely. Maybe it was just a lack of communication, or maybe he completely misunderstood your words, but with an old friend he slept with time and time again...

When Scaramouche saw him sending off his friend with a goodbye kiss, it being a casual commoditiy in his mind, only then did he get utterly chewed out for this.

"Are you a fucking idiot?" Scaramouche snarled at him, "You're not even shameful about this, you cheater." He snapped, as though he was truly angry for you, instead of just a generally very angry person. Childe shrugged.

"I wouldn't mind if they slept with someone else," he said casually, "Doesn't mean they love me any less, you know?"

Scaramouche tried to response, but he was simply flabberghasted. "Most people don't think that way, you airheaded moron."

Childe just laughed, brushing off the shorter harbinger, before walking off without a care.

But... in the end, the words got to him.

Maybe you didn't think that way? You two had spoken of marriage, a very possible reality that he was looking forward to... But, maybe there was a... culture clash, maybe? A clash of upbringings?

He found himself wondering these things at night, when you were snuggled up to him, unaware of the whirlwind of fear in his mind.

Silently, he resolved to simply stop--It would keep you happy, a little secret he didn't mind keeping. Maybe in many, many years, he'd mention it, but... he thought that was okay. That could be the last time he'd ever do something like that...

But, as he came home... You were sitting, waiting for him.

"Please, come sit down, Ajax," that morose tone, it made his heart ache... so he obeyed without question. You looked at him, face puffy and eyes red... "Tell me the truth," you asked, his heart sinking, "Did you cheat on me?"

He froze, but... "Y-yes, but-"

"I don't need an explanation," you admitted, a small, broken smile on your face, "I knew I wasn't loveable enough."

"Wait, no, no, that's not it at all-"

"No," you interrupted, "I don't need an explanation. I'll be out by tonight," you looked down at your lap, his heart shattering into even smaller pieces,

"Babe... please, please, let me explain, I'll never do it again-"

You stood,

"If you'd do it once, you'd do it again. Don't talk to me," you hesitated, "If you want me to be happy, don't look for me ever again."

He was trying to reach for you... but, he couldn't make himself grab you, not when you so delicately shied away...

Eventually, he gave up. No amount of fighting would stop you, and... and he... he couldn't keep seeing your pain as you cried for him to just leave you alone.

Was this love? The pain of another, the terror not of considering spending the rest of your life with them, but the terror of not spending the rest of your life with them?

Before he knew it, he was staring at a mirror, shards of glass in his fist, more than a few holes in the wall and a broken door, the shattered mirror distorting his expression...

Upon walking through the house, he saw that there was... it felt so empty, without your delicate touch and presence making it a place he lovingly called home.

"No," he whispered, hoping... were you here? Did you see... whatever he blacked out and did, the tantrum he did not remember? Did he, oh gods above, oh gods, he didn't hurt you, did he?

...

But he never got an opportunity to find out.

By the time he had sobered up from his tantrum... you were gone. Only a note, left behind, Don't look for me.

Because, you both knew, if he really wanted to find you, he could. He could capture you, trap you... hurt you.

But he didn't want any of that, as much as it hurt to have you away... to make you hate him anymore than you already did was enough to drive a man to near insanity.

Even after you had been gone, he would sit, whenever he was not forced to work, to fulfil his duties to the Tsaritsa... he would wait. He would cook your favourite dishes, read the books you liked, go to the places you enjoyed...

Only after weeks of this, did it hit him that you truly were never coming home. He knew that, but... but, somehow, his heart, his emotions hadn't caught up.

For a second time, he had destroyed your shared, no... his home.

It just wasn't home without you.

Unable to endure the idea of still being here, of a place where he had held you so many times, kissed you, loved you, and suddenly you were all but gone... He tried to do anything to avoid it, to avoid that demon that desperately tried to crawl out of him, threatening to burst from his chest.

Even the other Harbingers had noticed this, how... awful he had been, how he had lost himself. Even Scaramouche, the one most openly said to be the easiest to hate amongst them all, with an uncanny talent to bring even the most pacificistic souls to pure rage, had done well to stay his tongue, never kind, never sweet, but he would give him the isolation he craved, only speaking as much was necessary.

He didn't know what to do with himself, but whenever that happened... he'd just throw himself to the maws of death and, unluckily, crawl his way back out.

Diluc

Everything felt hot and fuzzy and...

Red.

Was red a feeling? His face was red, his body burned, and he could scarcely breathe, he definitely had accidentally drunk some alcohol, but for once, the effects of inebriation hit him. However, while he couldn't understand why people would devote their lives to this sensation, he could appreciate reality being distant, when he knew if he wasn't drunk, he would have spit up the wine and some extra blood, making it an even richer red color.

A warm feeling around his dick, he saw a pretty, if not distorted, face. It didn't take long for him to explode with sensation, his eyes shot wide... and a kiss pressed to his lips.

He almost chased that pretty face, only to see it disappear, he falling to his knees, rasping for air. Moments later, he felt hands on his shoulder's, shaking him. He shot his head up, seeing Kaeya looking at him in fear, and distantly, he heard his name...

"Diluc. Diluc. Diluc! Say something!"

Diluc stared at him, and opened his mouth to speak, but he only ended up jerking his head down, coughing into his elbow, seeing blood on his black coat... Kaeya noticed, too, frozen in shock.

"What happened?" he asked, his eye wide in shock.

"I..." Diluc rasped out, and his eyes widened in shock.

He realized what he had done.

He. He slept with someone who was most definitely not the one he had sworn himself to. Some-some random woman who was likely enchanted by the prospect of a rich man.

"Diluc!" Kaeya shouted, afraid, "What happened?"

Diluc shoved himself up, his hand on Kaeya's shoulder, already rushing to run out and all the way back to the Winery-but not before Kaeya grabbed him, stopping him, strength near equally matched.

"'Luc, I'm not letting you go anywhere until you-"

"I did," Diluc was still gasping for air, "I did something terrible." He admitted, with no small amount of pain.

"What did you do?" Kaeya asked, "Don't run, don't run, you're going to choke on your own blood-"

"No!" Diluc shouted, throwing Kaeya off his arm, running on pure adrenaline, even as his face was beet red, and his vision blurred.

But he needed to confess his sins, immediately, he needed to... now, now, now!

He heard Kaeya shout, but in the end, as he had to stop just to rasp for air again, the burn of alcohol still in his throat, he heard no shouting, nothing but the sound of his thundering heartbeats in his own ears.

Finally, he got to the Winery. You saw him, shocked, seeing his red face and how distressed he was, his hair nothing short of a fluffy mess.

"Diluc," you run over, he leaning on you, just to not collapse from the lack of air, "Diluc, what's wrong?"

"I-I..." He shuttered out, sucking in a breath, "I cheated on you."

You were reeling, "You-What?"

"I-I accidentally drank wine. I was drunk, I can't..." He was still heaving, "I can't breathe... I don't... I don't know what happened, but... She... a woman, she..."

He couldn't finish, but he didn't need to.

"You cheated on me and the first thing you did was come home and brag about it?" You asked, equal parts anguish and anger,

"No," he rasped, his knees buckling as the world tried to disappear on him, "I can't..." his hand went to his throat, "Wait..."

He didn't know what happened, but he only saw flashes after that--Your tears, his bloodied hands, you leaving.

And he was alone, on the ground, barely able to breathe, to think... to do anything.

You left him.

You were gone.

And, somehow, he wasn't mad at all. Having breathed long enough to move again, he stood... and he found the half-empty bottle of wine left on the table, the wine you adored so.

He grabbed the bottle and drank straight from it, feeling his throat and tongue swell, it crashing to the ground as he fell, unable to rasp even the slightest breaths,

I deserve this, he thought, I deserve this. This is all I deserve.

...

...?

For some reason, despite his better wishes, he woke up. He lay in bed, a cool, wet cloth over his forehead... his flesh burned, and his tongue was still swollen, he unable to wiggle it in his mouth. His breathing, still, was labored, but it seemed that he was still breathing, despite everything.

He watched as Adelinde cautiously walked over, looking down at his face, "... Master Diluc, are you alright?"

No, he wasn't, but he could not even sob and cry, for he could not breathe enough to do so.

A cruel twist of fate, but he was not deserving to cry, he was the one who hurt you. You did nothing but love him.

He didn't deserve anything right now.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #kaeya #diluc #childe #genshin kaeya #genshin diluc #genshin childe #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #childe x reader #bark writes #// also dw anon i've written way more messed up stuff than this #// :)#// also idk why ppl cheat beyond the thrill of it and i wanted to make it more interesting than that #// chlide was the closest to that idea #// i got some shitty news + people who didnt stop bringing it up so this took way more time than i'd like to admit

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rezzyromance · 3 years

Text

Karl Heisenberg x GN! Reader

Summary: You try to calm down Karl from one of his temper tantrums, and he accidentally hurts you.

Tw: cursing, aggressive tones, blood, uuuhhh angst? Idk.

"THAT BITCH! THAT STUPID, OVERSIZED, SELF-RIGHTEOUS BITCH!" you could hear very clearly ringing through the factory like church bells. You were sitting quietly in the bedroom that you and Karl shared, reading a book to pass the time. It was one of the few rooms he felt comfortable with you being in alone. While he never told you that you weren't allowed to roam around the factory freely, he made it clear to you that he'd much rather you stick to the safer areas when he wasn't around.

The angry man had just returned from one of his "family meetings". You had never been to one due to the fact that Karl feared of Miranda finding out about you, but you could easily understand that they must be very frustrating for him as he always returns from them with such an angry energy that it almost felt like static popping around him. This time though, he was noticeably more angry. The stomping of his foot steps were louder and you could hear them approaching closer to the door. "SHE FOLLOWS MIRANDA LIKE A FUCKING DOG! A BRAINLESS FUCKING MUTT!" he yelled as he continued to stomp down the hallway. You could hear by the way his voice faded that he passed the door. "He must be heading to his office..." you think to yourself as you put down your book and make your way to the door. You walk out and follow the sounds of the angry man.

As you made your way to his office, muffled sounds of him bickering got louder and louder. They were accompanied by loud, thudding noises. You grab the doorknob and make your way slowly into his office. The room had been trashed during his fit of rage. Papers were covering the floor along with clutter from his desk. He was standing in the midst of it all, shoulders and chest rising and falling with each ravenous pant he let out.

"...get out" he says with his back facing you. You could tell that he had spoken through gritted teeth. "Karl, please calm down. Do you need to tal-" "I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!" he interrupted you and turned to face you. His face twitched in anger. You had never seen him this angry before, and you didn't want to leave him like this. "Was it something Alcina did? Do you want to talk about it?" You step further into the room. "Oh why the fuck do you care?! What the fuck do you know about that big bitch and the shit I have to endure whenever I have to sit in a room with her for fucking hours on end?! Don't act like you give a good god damn!" He continued to scream. His words were harsh and his tone was harsher. His mind was so clouded with rage that he wasn't even paying attention to how it may affect you.

You hated seeing him like this. Despite his demands that you leave him alone, you persisted. "But I do care! Come on baby take a deep breath and settle down." He turned away from you and started anxiously running his gloved hand through his hair, knocking his hat to the ground. Metal objects from all around the room began to rise slowly. "I understand you're upset bu-" you continue to try and comfort him but he interrupts again. "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND SHIT! STOP ACTING LIKE YOU UNDERSTAND ANYTHING THAT I GO THROUGH! AND STOP PRETENDING THAT YOU CARE!" He yells with all his chest as metal goes flying in all direction. Many of these sharp objects fly past you and soon enough you feel a hot sting on your right shoulder.

You would normally scream or even gasp at this, but you were so shocked at the pure rage coming from the man standing before you that all you could do is stand there and clutch your bleeding arm. Your shirt soon began to grow wet around the area. With a single glance you could tell it was deep. Your legs began to tremble and your breathing became unsteady. The room was completely silent as you stared at the back of Heisenberg. The burst of energy exhausted him slightly and he stared at the ground, trying to gather his thoughts. "What now?" He thought. "Look... I know you're trying to help but-" he turns to face you and is met with a sight that causes his stomach to drop.

Your eyes were as wide as a deer in headlights. You were frozen in place and the only movement coming from your body was your shaky breath and fearful trembling. He looked to where your hand was clutching your arm and saw a large red spot, growing in size fast. "Oh shit", he whispers as he runs over to you. You flinch slightly and take step back, worried of what he might do next. You knew he didn't mean to hurt you, you were just in shock. "Fuck (Y/N) I'm so sorry. I'm sososo fucking sorry." He apologizes and throws his glasses off so he can examine your wound better. He takes your hand and moves it aside and soon more blood begins to leak from the large cut.

He quickly picks you up and places you the chair by his desk. He's had to patch himself up many times before, so he felt confident about closing your wound. What worried him was how you must feel about him now. His heart was in his stomach as he gathered all the supplies necessary for a quick surgery.

"I'm so sorry.." he continues to say as the needle goes in and out of your skin, closing the wound. You could tell by his worried eyes that he didn't mean to hurt you. He was crouching beside you, making sure to be eye-level with your shoulder. With the hand on your unwounded arm, you reach over and cup his cheek. He doesn't melt into your touch like he usually does due to how focused he was on stitching you up, but it did provide him with some comfort. Finally with a deep sigh from the both of you, the mediocre surgery was done.

He began to stand up, but you stop him by placing a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you and makes eye contact for only a second. He felt too guilty to look for too long. You then wrap both arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. He wraps his around around you slowly, unsure if he deserves it. He felt like a monster for hurting you. "I love you", you say. These words hurt him and heal him at the same time. "I don't know how." He says with a broken smile.

That night, he held you a little tighter, kissed you a little more, and slept a little less.

#karl hesienberg #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg angst #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg fanfic

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honeytae · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests or not, but I was hoping I could request something along the lines of where you’re in love with your best friend, taehyung, but he doesn’t know and he’s getting married soon. you don’t tell him how you feel until the night of his wedding when you’re a bit tipsy from drinking your feelings away. you can decide the ending! thank you in advance if you end up writing this! hope you’re doing well and staying safe. Xx

hi darling! i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write. i couldn’t get it to a point where i was satisfied with it for a really long time, i still don’t feel that good about it honestly but hopefully it’s okay for you!!! i tried to make it angsty (yikes) so hopefully it’s not horrible lmao

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters

genre: angst

word count: 1.6k

warnings: um so much heartbreak, oc is a little (very) in denial about the situation and comes off a little toxic tbh, requited love but nothing they can do about it now, mentions of tae going into a panic attack

You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the ‘congratulations to the happy couple,’ nor the Mr. and Mrs. Kim sign practically floating over their heads. You couldn’t handle the copious bouquets and all the preparations that went into this.

And you felt like a complete asshole about it.

Which is precisely why you decided to prematurely exit the event, doing yourself and everyone else a favor by leaving for the night to go sulk in your hotel by your lonesome.

The elevator ride up to your floor was miserable, your own battles within your mind coupled with the fact that your floor was the top one, making the ride excruciatingly long on top of everything else.

Rustling with the hotel key in your bag seemed to take forever as well, finally barging into your half unpacked space with a sigh. You quickly shut the door behind you, hoping you’d been able to sneak away from the hotel lobby without any guests noticing.

Shuffling further into the room, you sat on the edge of the king bed in the center of the room, placing your head in your hands at the mere prospect of this weekend.

Taehyung was getting married. Kim Taehyung, your best friend, the one person you’d been pining for since middle school, would be legally bound to someone else in less than twenty four hours.

Maybe you just shouldn’t have come. Despite sending red flags to Tae, you couldn’t think of a better solution than fleeing at this exact moment. Why did you think you could handle this?

Two knocks against the locked door had your head raising from its resting place, cursing under your breath at someone coming after you.

You didn’t feel well. That would be your excuse.

“Hey, you okay?” Immediately upon opening the door, Taehyung spoke the question out into the air, dark eyebrows knit in concern and kind eyes imploring yours for an answer.

“Hi. I’m fine, just a little tired, Tae.” You pressed your lips together in a hopefully believable smile, the man frowning before nodding at you.

“Me too. Can I come in?” He asked, the question completely innocent however making your heart rate a bit faster at the what if. What if things had gone differently? What if it was still a possibility for things to escalate between you two?

Cut it out. He’s about to be a married man.

You raised your eyebrows at him for a moment, then stepped back to allow him in, putting all your concentration on shutting the wood for a moment as you took a steadying breath.

“What about your party?” You wondered aloud, the man humming as he took a seat on your fully made bed.

“I’m tired of the parties. They’re exhausting.” He chuckled, covering his face with his hands as he reclined back on your bed.

Your heart skipped another beat at the vision, his tight pants leaving little to the imagination and buttons from his dress shirt stretched to new limits with his strained position. Diverting your eyes, you walked over to the desk chair in the corner of your room, reaching for a water bottle out of your mini fridge. Get a fucking grip.

Tossing one over to the bed beside Taehyung, you sat down in the plush seat, grateful that the man didn’t seem to notice your distance from him as you glanced out the window.

Until….

“Are you really okay? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

At his sudden words, you froze, gripping your water a bit tighter as you brought your eyes back to his face. He was closer now than before, having scooted to the edge of your bed to lean toward you, eyes showing concern for you as you shuffled in your seat.

Taehyung was never one to beat around the bush, and at times like this, you really wish he would just brush some things under the rug as easy as you could.

“I’m good, Tae. Just have a lot going on, I guess. I’m sorry I made you feel like that.” You said, hoping to clear the air and dismiss the topic as soon as you possibly could. The man’s stare wasn’t helping your state any.

“No apologies. Just wanted to check in on you.” He sighed, seemingly disappointed with your lack of response before a hideous painting across the room caught his eye.

“What the fuck is that?” He griped, making you chuckle as he sat up to lean toward the art piece, squinting with his lip curled in amusement.

“It’s not so bad.” You shrugged, smirking when he turned back to you in bewilderment. Realizing you were teasing him, his eyes went back to normal size, a smile meeting his own lips at the return of your familiar banter.

“How can you sleep in a room with that shit? I feel like asking for a refund.” He shook his head, making you laugh before taking a swig from your water.

“Somehow I manage.” You replied, twisting the cap back on the bottle with a sigh.

It’s times like these that you feel as though nothing is wrong. Times like these that transport you back to periods of your life when Taehyung was just a call away, and you thought maybe, just maybe, you two had a chance. But that was over now. Those days were no more.

Because Taehyung informing you about a blind date then turned into him in a full blown relationship, a serious one at that, and soon enough they were taking big steps such as meeting the parents, moving in together, and yes, getting engaged.

Your friends had been just as shocked as you were, pitying you with deep sympathetic looks over Taehyungs shoulder as you hugged him in confused congratulations. It had all happened so fast...how did you manage to lose him forever?

Waking up the next day, you felt a particular heaviness on your chest. It was the day before the wedding, the rehearsal dinner turned into an entire day of partying for their guests. A celebratory day, if anything.

But waking up and getting all dolled up for this occasion was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, today or ever. You had always thought that you’d have much more of a starring role in Kim Taehyung’s life. Shaking your head to dismiss those kinds of thoughts, you cursed as you left your hotel room, wondering how the hell you’d be getting through this day.

Four martinis. Four martinis was how you’d be getting through today. The bartender had become one of your closest acquaintances over the past few hours, eyeballing you silently as he poured you yet another cocktail, your demands obvious that you were not drinking out of celebration.

Sitting at the bar, you contemplated everything. From the time you’d met Tae, you had been so sure that you two completed each other. Were you that naive? And fuck, why are you still thinking about this now? It’s over. You and Tae will never be.

Nearly jumping off your stool at a hand suddenly clapping your back, you shifted your gaze over to the arm belonging to Jungkook, one of Taehyung’s youngest yet wisest friends.

“You’re sulking.” He said plainly, dark eyes tracing over your faded features, briefly examining the drink in your hand before shooting the bartender a knowing look.

“You shouldn’t be out here.” You sighed, nearly breaking into a sob when his hand laid over yours, fingers fitting between your own in a comforting gesture. With one glance at the man, you gained all the information you didn’t want.

He knew.

You wondered how long he’d known. Jungkook, being the quiet and relatively introverted person he was, was an observer. He knew everything about everyone it seemed, by not speaking to them at all. He noticed everything.

You just hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes started blinking rapidly, and that he’d instead just go back into the party without another word.

“Neither should you.” He replied to you, his tone holding nothing but concern as he tried to catch your eyes.

You just couldn’t hold it in.

“Well maybe if I wasn’t in love with him I’d be having a better time.” You mumbled, leaning your head down on your hands, elbows pressed to the tops of your thighs, sad and tired as Jungkook froze beside you.

Unbeknownst to you, a concerned Taehyung had also come to find you, stumbling upon that very scene as Jungkook tried to console you.

Meeting eyes with his older friend, Jungkook’s mouth gaped open for a moment, opening and closing like a fish out of water as you cluelessly rambled under your breath about how stupid you were to ever let yourself come here.

With a shaky exhale, Taehyung silently began to put it all together. The way you’d been working constantly lately, picking up every shift you could to decline his repeated attempts at getting together with you, the way you’d ran off last night and brushed it off as you being too tired. It was all adding up.

You were struggling with this as much as he was. Maybe more.

But what Taehyung could do about this years ago was no longer an option, his hands shaking at his sides as he spun on his heel and walked out of the lobby. He could briefly hear Jungkook call for him but ignored it, breathing heavily as he rounded one of the hallways leading to the restrooms.

Unshed tears misted over his eyes as he hugged a corner of the wall, feeling rather unsteady as he leaned his forehead against the cool surface. The burning pain in his chest had him sinking down to the floor in an instant, sobs wracking his shoulders with heightening emotions rising in his throat.

You’d finally given him the green light. And it was too fucking late.

#bts fanfiction #bts member x reader #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts angst #bts reader insert #kim taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung angst #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagines #taehyung angst #writing #fanfiction #angst #x reader #reader insert

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beforeoursunsets · 3 years

Note

aud. i'm so obsessed with literally EVERYTHING on your masterlist. ugh chefs kiss af. as for the request: since i haven't seen this trope on your account yet, what about some good ole amnesia? like one day draco gets wiped OUT by a bludger, wakes up, and forgets being in love with the reader. i just know you'd do this justice ILY

Amnesia - d.m

a/n: hiiii anon! tysm for the love you are so kind and i hope i didn't totally butcher this request!!! also im too tired to come up with an original title,, lol enjoy <33

house: slytherin

word count: 1.7k

warnings: just amnesia but idk if that counts, oh and a sorta open ending dont kill me

-----

You almost fell out of your seat, a cry escaping you as Draco plummeted nearly fifteen meters to the grass below. The astounding crack and thud sent the entire stadium quiet, Madam Hooch and her surrounding professors racing to the unconscious blond.

“Is he…” Pansy breathed, “...alive?”

Concern, etched on both of your faces, felt like a complete understatement compared to how you actually felt about the incident. Grabbing the coat you’d almost left behind, Parkinson followed along as you went straight for the infirmary.

Minutes later she had to slow down, unable to keep up with your running pace. Once she was finally able to catch up, Pansy found you bickering with Madam Pomfrey, begging her to let you inside the hospital wing.

“No you listen,” The matron scowled, “you can visit him tomorrow morning. Mr. Malfoy needs ample time to rest.” She said with finality.

You gave up, irritably walking towards your panting friend while dragging her back in the direction she had just come from. Tears stained your cheeks, but the weeping was gone momentarily, replaced with newfound disdain for Madam Pompfrey.

“She won’t tell me anything.” You complained, pacing in the Slytherin common room. “From what I know they could be embalming him right now!”

“Y/N, I think we both just need to relax right now. I don’t think Draco’s dead,” Pansy reassured you. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

After a long night of restless tossing and turning, you were out of bed the minute the sun rose. Thankfully it was a Saturday, and with no classes to attend you could spend the entire day in the hospital wing. Once you were inside, she would have to drag you out of there herself.

You pulled one of your boyfriend’s sweaters, holding it close to you as the cold morning air nipped your skin. With your best friend at your side, you pushed open the infirmary door, eyes searching for the injured boy.

Madam Pomfrey motioned for you to stay quiet, narrowing in her eyes as she did so.

You found Draco quickly, as he was the only other student in the room. His arm and left leg were bandaged up, his neck in a brace to hold it steady. The mere sight of him made your knees grow heavy, threatening to send you to the ground if you weren’t clutching onto his bed.

Pansy put a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, “Hey, look, he’s waking up.” She whispered.

Slowly, his eyes opened, grimacing at the room’s lighting. Draco looked down at his hand entwined with yours, hesitantly recoiling it.

“Pansy? What’s going on?” He asked, his voice raspy.

You were almost taken aback. Never had you been insecure about his friendship with Parkinson, but it was like he didn’t even see you standing beside him. She looked almost uncomfortable, dealt with his awkward inquiry.

“One of the Ravenclaw beaters took you down with a bludger…” She prompted, trying to kickstart his recollection of last night’s quidditch game.

“Oh.” He responded simply.

“Are you serious?” You cut in, “You almost died and that’s the best you can say?”

Draco had finally made eye contact, looking back at you incredulously, “Why are you wearing my sweater?”

“And why is L/N even here?” He asked Pansy, turning away from you.

The matron picked up on the conversation, now concerned herself. “Miss L/N, I think it’s best for you to leave.”

“Of course I’m here, I’m your girlf--”

“I said, I think it’s best for you to leave.” She reiterated.

You were utterly confused, sending Pansy a look of near despair. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Leave. Now.”

After you had begrudgingly left the hospital wing, Pansy stayed behind as requested by Madam Pomfrey. Draco had seemed to recognize his friend, unlike you, who had only befuddled him.

She pulled your friend to the side, beginning to explain Draco’s condition now that you were out of sight. “I’m starting to believe that Mr. Malfoy here has suffered a brain injury after his fall. For how long have he and Miss L/N been together?” She inquired.

“Over a year,” She responded quickly.

Returning to his bedside, Madam Pomfrey began asking Draco a series of questions, trying to pinpoint how far his memory had recoiled. “What year are you in?”

“Fourth, obviously.” He drawled, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“And what was the last thing you remember?” She prodded.

“The goblet of fire,” Draco responded, “bloody Potter managed to cheat the damn thing.” He spat.

Pansy looked at Madam Pomfrey with concern, that had happened two years ago.

“Would anyone care to explain what bludger you’ve been blabbering about? And why has L/N stolen my jumper? Can someone tell me what’s going on!” Draco quickly grew frustrated by the women’s secretive conversations, demanding answers at once.

“Draco,” She began, “you’re a sixth year--and Y/N--she’s your girlfriend.”

-----

“What do you mean he doesn’t remember me?” You cried out in exasperation.

“He knows who you are,” Pansy explained, “he just has no memory of your relationship. It’s like he’s still a fifteen year old.”

Never had you imagined Draco could forget you so suddenly, so entirely. It was like one of your worst nightmares had sprung to life. “I need to talk to him.” You responded, getting off your bed.

He had been released from the hospital a few hours prior, now on strict bedrest. You knew he’d be in his room, and luckily, you had a key.

Unlocking his bedroom door, you knocked on the oak wood as it slowly creaked open, signalling that someone was there. “Draco?”

He was laying on top of his comforter, nose buried in his journal. Clearly he was trying to piece together the last two years of his life, your life together. You had hoped that something in there could possibly trigger his memory, a hope that would only set you up for disappointment.

“You can come in,” He spoke gruffly, his eyes still trained on the ivory pages littered with his handwriting.

You sat at the edge of his bed, the distance between him and you feeling so foreign. “I write about you a lot.” He almost chuckles, scanning one last entry.

“You really don’t remember?”

He shook his head regretfully, “No, I don’t.” He apologized, “But I really wish I did, honest. From what it looks like, I was seriously in love with you.”

I was, his voice repeated in your head. Who would’ve thought that one sentence could pierce your heart so deeply. “If it helps--” Draco piped up.

“I still fancy you, even now--or back then--I don’t really know how to talk about it.” He rambled, somehow eliciting a small laugh from you.

“Well I’m just happy to hear you confirm it, I’ve always had my suspicions about our timeline.” You smiled softly, the air filled with a bittersweet tension.

“You know, I can come back.” Getting back on your feet, you went for the door, suddenly feeling like an intruder.

Draco held a hand out to stop you, softly closing the journal to his left. “No, don’t go.” He pleaded, “I have so many questions.”

You sighed, tentatively sitting back down a few feet away. He cleared his throat, and by the look on his face Draco was actively trying to pull back a memory, any sort of recollection of you he could muster.

“How did it, you know, happen? Us, I mean.” He asked after a moment.

Fighting a smile, you replied with “Well, you and I both know we had fought since the moment you stepped foot in the common room, it wasn’t just two years ago.”

“How could I forget?”

“At the end of our fifth year you got into a bit of a tussle with Cormac again, something about how you were the only one allowed to bully me.” You laughed, “After that, I had my own personal bodyguard--on the rare occasions you were being decent.”

“People were messing with you? Why?” He asked, suddenly concerned.

“There were a lot of rumors going ‘round back then, most of them about my romantic affairs.” Rolling your eyes, you added “All about you, of course.”

Draco’s fallen smile was back and brighter than before, “Nice to know I’ve always been a nuance.”

“It wasn’t always that way.” You clarified, “We had some really good times, and no one--not even Pansy or Blaise--expected you to be such a romantic.”

He sighed, “I just wish I could remember it. It’s all there, I know it is, but no matter how hard I try the memories stay locked up somewhere.”

You moved closer, placing a hand over his, “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure they’ll come back sooner than later. Besides, I won your heart once, I have full confidence that I can do it again.”

“Did the part where I mentioned my current massive crush on you just fly right over your head?”

“How could I forget?” You mimicked, “I’m just glad you’re okay, Draco, your fall had us all freaked out.”

“Is it weird?” He asked out of the blue, “Talking to me?”

You thought about his question for a moment, as there aren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe exactly how it all felt. “It is weird, I suppose. Honestly, if anything I’m scared, scared that your feelings for me won’t be the same after the accident. I have all these memories of the last year with you and the only thing left of them is that journal of yours.”

“Believe me, I’ve read it.” He assured you, “The moment Madam Pomfrey released me I was practically glued to it.” Draco finally pulled you into a hug, the long awaited embrace feeling like a weight being lifted off your chest.

“It's awful to say, but I feel so lucky right now.” He mumbled into your hair, “I’m experiencing you all over again.”

taglist (link in my bio/nav if you want to be added): @gwlvr @thatsassyhufflepuff @dracoswhore007 @eunoniaa @darlingmalfoy @dracoscene

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stickynotestoletters · 3 years

Text

Yandere BNHA Boys pt 2

Okay, this is a continuation of the first yandere ones I did because I wrote that in basically a night and was too tired to do more, I'm probably gonna post some after for the pro heroes and villains if I have time, I might finish those on the weekend then post it.

This is just a bunch of headcanons I have about the boys in BNHA and what they’d be like as yanderes. Only the really fluffy or good things about them listed here. Neither of these works are a good depictions of a real yandere and make sure to be careful to identify yandere traits in real people around you. It’s a very dangerous world and stay safe!

sorry if you were waiting for me to come out with these and I literally took forever lol, link to the first one is here. It's basically just me comforting myself with the sweet things that I think they would do as yanderes.

Warnings: Brainwashing, blood, gore, death, trans headcanons, body dysmorphia, nonbinary they/he Sero, they/them pronouns + nonbinary headcanons for Tokoyami, he/they nonbinary headcanons with Shinsou, a little NSFW because if I don't specify then they are aged up (around 20-25 is where I imagine the timeline that they actually captured you and have a hero carrier going for them already), manipulation, regular yandere things, kinda just turns into dumbass horknee headcanons at some point after Shinsou (sorry lmfao), objectification

Sero Hanata

so basically the first time they saw you they immediately wanted to come up to you

they love to give you back hugs because once you stop trying to fight them he's gonna be so honored you finally trust him

Big time slut [non-derogetory] for you

Likes to have an apartment that's high up, probably a secured penthouse with lots of windows

If you're afraid of heights they will get a ground bed for you two, they would also vibe with a low hanging hammock if you allow it

they really really like just putting you on a custom made leash, not inherently in a sexual way just in general likes to have it look like that with their tape on you at all times

they really really like it when you come to them for hugs and comfort

If you're a trans reader, if you want a binder he will get you one as soon as you ask, cried when you told him about it.

they cried way more than you though...

Was very accepting as an nb person as well

they custom made you a tape binder of his

Kinda as a joke but high key felt like they were gonna combust at the thought of you wearing that for them

Takes you to pride but you cannot speak

only takes you to pride after they are 1000% sure that you're not gonna speak to anyone but them

Takes you to it as a part of their float because they'd been invited onto the Hero Float

You are in a costume that's exactly like his, helmet and everything, you aren't allowed to be looked at

After that though, it's gonna be your choice to go or not to go

they trust you a little more after you run away from some assholes though and after that sometimes lets you take your helmet off during pride, you have to give them a lot of kisses though

When/if you ever consider any type of surgery he is 110% on board

they demand that you have to have it performed by someone who has done this a million times before, trusts no one else

If there's a way for you to go through it without the surgery they're excited but he's more excited if there is surgery because they love the idea of you being so cuddly and clinging to them for their comfort

Tokoyami Fumikage

haha they're in love with you

like, intensely in love with you the moment they first meet you

Dark shadow thinks you're adorable but says nothing more about their obsession with you

when you met them before UA they absolutely cannot handle being around you in a 10-foot radius

Eventually, though they do try and become a friend of yours

After that, it's a hop on the manipulation train, my dude

they basically make you see them as your savior from a mean uncaring world

they love talking to you about things that make you happy and loving you in little ways

hugs, hand holding, a lot of time it's just a little peck (haha) on the cheek

they love living with you though, like really love it

they like baking and making dinner for you

but especially baking

like really, baking

the manipulation they use makes it seem like everything is okay when you only talk to them so that's what you do and to you, it seems so much better than anything you could do

they haven't come out to you by the time you come out to them so your trans journey really helps them figure things like that out as well

The first time you explain that gender is a made-up construct they're like "yeah......isn't that how everyone feels? Like, not a gender????" we love this for them

you both kind of heal each other through this process

they like seeing you when you're most comfortable so they get you as many binders as you need

also gets you a custom binder like Sero but with feather designs, not like stupid printable patterns but something that is soft and the softness isn't feathers it's regular fluffy cloth

idk I'm not a designer that's why I gave up and became a writer lmao

they also get you a compression corset because they're emo

if there is surgery it takes a lot of time to convince them

they don't ever want you to regret anything they helped you with so it takes a lot of long-winded conversations about it

there was a lot of nervousness on their part because (this is just my headcanon) they were almost convinced to get surgery to construct their face to look human-like

they had a lot of their family tell them that, because of the way they looked, they had less of a chance to become a hero, they were immensely traumatized by this and thus wants to make absolutely sure you were okay with this

but when they finally find themself comforted by you about it it happens quickly and in the safest way you could possibly imagine

Shinso Hitoshi

Shinsou didn't want to approach you at all, he was so scared you'd run away or tell him he's a villain

they always thought that they weren't good enough for you

he loved you but you needed to say hi first

and you did

so he whisked you away

they like to just brainwash you into tasting certain types of food when you're craving them instead of just getting you food

he likes to talk to you in a voice like he would talk to a kitten, not like husky or anything sexy, but something cute and adorable

especially when you're brainwashed and can't say anything to him

He likes to give you lots of soft stuff like I'm talking pillows upon pillows and squishmallows

once he gets his own house they get it in a place that's more comforting in the dark than in the light

they really like the dark and outdoorsy vibe anyway so if they choose a place somewhere in the forest to keep you what's the added bonus if no one can hear you scream?

a little bit of spice; he has this whole a/b/o fantasy (idk it's his vibes that he'd read that fanfic and stuff lmao) and kinda treats you like you were an omega

sometimes if you guys do have sex they'll brainwash you to act like an omega or once he's more experienced with bodily manipulation involving their quirk they'll make you do all of the......omega things

when you come out to them, if you're trans, they're definitely gonna not care

like if you need comfort and stuff about it they will not make a big deal about it

he legit is like "okay .....can I still fuck you or?????"

HE JUST GIVES OFF REALLY HORKNEE VIBES OKAY?????

definitely brainwashes you into not feeling dysphoric anymore though

like loves it when you come up all sad to him and uncomfy just to ask them to brainwash you

he melts over you cuddling them after those times though

if you want surgery they're gonna make sure that it's between him and the doctors that y'all are there

like no one knows you're there, completely off radius, in and out like nothing (he's basically a cryptid in the woods by the time you guys have the surgery, so they wanna make sure no one questions it)

Monoma Neito

bold of you to assume that man can express literally anything when he wants to just sit you on his lap and look at your pretty face

love at first sight taken literally but not in a shallow way

he loves just having you around him

kinda treats you as an accessory at times, talks like you're a purse or something and people don't really comment but it's really freaking them out sometimes when you don't speak up on it

likes to say he's the only one to understand you cause he's afraid you'd leave him

a hardcore fan of collars though

definitely has lots of jewelry that represents him even though you don't go out he still loves the idea of it

big time cook

loves providing for you, never lets you do a damn thing other than watching pre-approved cartoons and hobbies

absolute fucking disaster about hugging you

always has to be touching you

he thinks you're so fucking gorgeous and body worships you even out of the bedroom

if you're trans he will definitely be weird about it at first

he's just diet transphobic

he's not denying it but sometimes he's like "Are you sure???" and stuff

he clears this up with the help of you being pissed enough to not eat or talk to him until he apologizes

he then educates himself on it and comes to the conclusion that he was in fact being an asshole

talks to you about binders and stuff like that

doesn't really believe in surgery, he would never allow you to do that just because it would be too painful for him to see you go through

he instead literally searches the whole fucking globe for a person with a body-altering quirk to make sure you don't get hurt

he seeks out homophobes, transphobes, and other dumbasses on the regular just to kill them like literally it just started out for your approval but now it's just for fun

Anyway, the villain one (if I do it) will probably become just horknee brain rot cause I am a slut. Request some stuff and I'll try to put up some works if y'all want ig.

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haikyunicorn · 4 years

Text

kuroo with s/o who’s being followed

anon asked: “Good morning/evening!! Can I request a scenario with Oikawa and Kuroo (separately) where they aren’t with their fem!s/o but she calls them for help because she’s walking home alone late at night? Like maybe it’s a little angsty at first because it’s a little scary or they didn’t answer her call at first, and they’re far away from her but they wanna run out to protect/take care of her ? Kinda angsty but maybe it can end in fluff if you want, :) Please and thank you so much! Have a great day”

pairing(s): kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre: angst-ish, comfort, fluffy ending

warning(s): mentions of being followed

word count: 1.47k

[oikawa’s version]

Kuroo is an independent lover. Independent meaning he doesn’t feel the need to constantly be around you 24/7. He likes having his own ‘me time’ sometimes and doesn’t mind you doing the same. After all, he trusts you with his whole heart. (Though, that doesn’t mean he isn’t a clingy boy asking for hugs whenever you’re with him.)

Today was no different than the usual. It was a Tuesday, meaning the Nekoma volleyball club’s practice would run longer than normal and end after the sun had set. You poked your head into the gym after your last class, looking left and right for the roosterhead captain.

“Looking for someone?”

A sly voice coming from behind you startled you, making you gasp and turn around only to come face to face with Kuroo, a cheeky smirk plastered on his face.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I was gonna kiss my boyfriend goodbye before I leave, but seems like he’s not here today,” you teased, pretending to step around him and walk away.

“Aww, kitten, don’t be like that,” Kuroo cooed as he gently grabbed your arm and pulled you into a hug from behind.

You laughed lightly, wiggling out of his grasp to face him again. “Good luck in practice today,” you said, beaming up at him.

Kuroo felt his heart swell in his chest. “Thanks, babe,” he replied, mirroring your smile, “you going home right away today?”

“No, I’m meeting up with some friends to check out a new cafe,” you said.

“Ah, I see. Have fun, kitten.” Kuroo brought a hand to your head, messing up your hair and amusing himself as he watched you try to swat his hand away. “By the way,” he added, leaning closer to you, “where’s my kiss?”

For a second, you considered withholding his kisses to tease him some more, but you thought you had been stopping him from practice long enough when you heard the whistle from inside the gym. So you indulged him, leaving a short but sweet peck on his lips that was enough to make your breath hitch.

Kuroo, satisfied, was full on grinning now. “Thank you! I feel much more refreshed,” he exclaimed. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder as he started to walk towards the gym. “I’ll text you after practice, okay?”

You nodded and waved to him, watching as he disappeared behind the doors, before you started your own walk towards the cafe.

Your hang out with your friends lasted much longer than planned, with all of you losing track of time, and by the time you paid and stepped out of the cafe, the sun was almost completely set and the streetlamps became the main source of light. You bid your friends goodbye as they walked off to one way, leaving you to walk home alone as your house was in the opposite direction. You looked down at your phone to check the time, noting that Kuroo’s practice would be over in a few minutes.

Pocketing your phone, you made your way back home. You’ve rarely had to walk home alone after dark ever since you started dating Kuroo. Being the gentleman he was, he would always insist on walking you home whenever he could, especially after the late night dates you two shared, and this would be the first time in a while that you had to walk home without his company. Though, you currently weren’t too worried; you weren’t in an unfamiliar neighbourhood and there were still some people going about around you as well.

You were halfway home when you felt something wrong. You weren’t sure what it was, just a gut feeling, but it was making you uncomfortable. Nevertheless, you braved yourself to turn around and scan your surroundings.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. There were less people in the area now, but that was understandable. However, as you continued on your way, you were unable to shake away the strange sensation.

You decided to pull out your phone, checking for any messages from Kuroo to help ease your mind. To your delight, a notification from said person was already waiting, prompting you to reply back immediately and distracting yourself from your previous thoughts.

Tetsu😻: hey babe, just finished practice. R u home yet?

Y/N: nope, still on my way back

Tetsu😻: aww, it’s getting late, be careful :(

Tetsu😻: do u need me to come get you?

Y/N: no, it’s ok!

Y/N: i’m almost home anyway

Tetsu😻: alright then

Tetsu😻: i’m gonna go back to cleaning up the gym now, call if you need anything, ok?

Y/N: 🥺 the way i’d do anything for you

Y/N: will do! <3

Kuroo could feel his muscles beginning to ache as he cleared up the gym with the rest of the team. He paid it little mind, choosing to converse with Kenma and Yaku about their upcoming practice matches while the rest of the team -yell- talk amongst themselves. He was just about to reply to Kenma when his ringtone rang through the gym. Seeing as they were almost done cleaning up, he excused himself and walked to the benches where his phone was, the sight of your contact making him swipe the screen to answer the call.

“Hey-”

“Tetsu, are you still at the gym?”

Stunned by your urgent interruption, he blinked in confusion. “Yeah, we’re just about done here. Why, is everything okay?”

Your shaky breaths over the phone made him frown in concern, waiting for your answer.

“No, I think someone’s following me.”

Your hushed answer drove a chill up Kuroo’s spine and made his heart drop.

“Following you? Where are you?” he asked, almost demanded.

“I’m almost at the intersection near the school, can you come get me?”

Kuroo’s chest tightened at your pleading tone and his mind was immediately made.

“I’m coming, stay on the phone.”

He all but sprinted out of the gym, yelling back to his team to finish cleaning up without him. The intersection you were at wasn’t too far, he could make it in 5 minutes if he kept up his current pace. He just hoped it wasn’t 5 minutes too late.

All Kuroo could focus on at that moment was the slight voices of you he could hear through the phone, telling him you’re waiting at the intersection. He paid no mind to how erratic his breathing was, how rapid his heart was beating, how his muscles burned as he forced himself to keep running. He just needed to get to you as fast as possible, because the thought of any harm coming your way when he could’ve done something - anything - to prevent it scared him out of his mind.

Not long after, Kuroo could see where the street forked off into a 4-way junction, the streetlights illuminating it. For a second, he felt the panic increase when he couldn’t see anyone there. Nonetheless, he pushed himself forward.

To his relief, slowly, his eyes could make out an outline of a figure as he neared his destination. A figure he could unmistakably recognise anywhere, briskly walking towards his direction to meet him halfway.

Kuroo could barely contain himself as he barreled straight towards you, arms immediately grasping onto you.

The force of his impact, barely stopping himself, caused the both of you to stumble before regaining your balance. With your head buried in his shirt, you could feel his rapid heartbeat and hear him gasping to catch his breath along with the rise and fall of his chest. Warm and safe in your boyfriend’s arms, you felt yourself gradually calm down and both of your breathing even out.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you could hear Kuroo murmur quietly, sighing into your hair.

You lifted your head to face him, resting your chin on his chest instead. “Thank you for coming.”

Kuroo let out a soft tsk at your words. “I’ll always come for you, kitten. Anytime you need, I’ll be there. Also, you’re never walking home alone again in the dark,” he declared, bringing one of his hands to your head and running his fingers through your hair.

You could only smile back in reply, your heart fluttering. The both of you stayed that way for a little while longer before reluctantly letting go of each other, though Kuroo replaced the hug by interlocking your fingers together.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home now,” he said, as upbeat as he could to lighten the mood for you.

As the two of you headed in the direction of your home hand in hand, Kuroo suddenly stopped in his steps. “Uh, we need to go back to the gym for a while,” he said sheepishly.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Why? Haven’t you locked up the gym?”

“I left all my stuff there.”

here it is! finally the part 2 to the previous request :’) tbh idk how i feel about this because i had to pause several times while writing and wonder if this was too cringy in a way SDLKFJ

anyways i hope you enjoy this!

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu!! imagines #hq #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu #haikyuu!!

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vanserraseris · 3 years

Note

END - There’s the apology azris oneshot. It doesn’t really have a title, Flames and Shadows is basic but it’s all I’ve got. I think Eris and Az would be great enemies to reluctant friends to lovers idk. Also, Eris at this point has sort of just been dragged into the ic friend group but still remains an asshole. It is what it is. Hope you enjoy it!!!

YOU HAVE NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE but this was INCREDIBLE.

Also i LOVE the idea of eris reluctantly being dragged into the ic

Anyway. Here it is in full:

Azriel had been working with Eris for months, he’d trusted the spoiled prince to get them safely out of harm’s way, to take them to a secure location. He’d been expecting Eris to winnow them to his personal home, but as they materialized in the unfamiliar space, Azriel realized it was the first time he was seeing the other male’s room. With a small growl, Eris let go of Azriel leathers, shoving past him but not touching his wings.

Eris barely lifted a finger, the stunning, stone fireplace to his right roaring to life along with the bronze sconces that lined the walls. All of Eris’s cottage was elegant, the furniture in it made of expensive carved mahogany that matched the gleaming hardwood floors and sideboards, everything organized, orderly, and tasteful. Eris’s bedroom was much the same.

Two comfortable-looking cushioned chairs were placed near the fireplace, a low table between them was covered in multiple neat piles of thick books. His bed was huge, pushed up against the opposite wall, big enough for multiple people to lie in it. The carved pattern on the dresser, mirror, and nightstands was intricate - beautiful. Not knowing what to do with himself, Azriel merely stood where Eris had left him - right in the middle of the bedroom.

Azriel took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, livid that they’d been caught by surprise but the anger not showing on his face. Some of Azriel’s shadows skittered around him, the rest trailed after Eris as he stumbled to the dresser, knocking into it with his knees so that it hit the wall with an ugly thud. Azriel watched as Eris leaned toward the mirror, wincing as Eris wiped at his mouth with the dark brown sleeve of his well-tailored jacket.

“What the fuck?” Blood nearly the same colour of Eris’s hair dripped from his nose, leaking down his face, staining the collar of the offwhite shirt that peaked out of Eris’s jacket. Eris tugged open the dresser’s top drawer, all his shirts neatly folded inside, taking one out and holding it up against his face. He turned to face Azriel, his newly cut hair in disarray as he gestured wildly in Azriel’s direction, “Some fucking spymaster.”

His voice was muffled by the shirt, but it did nothing to hide his angry tone, “I thought those shadows were useful.”

Azriel clenched his jaw. For the most part, Eris had been treating Azriel’s shadows like he treated his hounds: with an unexpected softness. The shadows liked brushing up against Eris’s hands as he wrote, or curling up over his shoulders as he read. Azriel had apologized the first few times it had happened, but Eris had assured him that he didn’t mind.

He didn’t like the way Eris was talking about them now, though. “They are useful.”

“They are not.”

“They were distracted,” Azriel snapped, defending them.

Eris moved the shirt away from his face, the bleeding seemed to have slowed. He snorted, the sound watery, “By what?” He turned back to the mirror.

Azriel was moments away from retorting “by you,” but he stopped himself. There must have been a reason his shadows monitored the Autumn Court Heir’s every move. Azriel assumed it was because they didn’t trust Eris Vanserra, and he didn’t want to offend one of the Night Court’s most important allies by telling him as much.

“Give me that pitcher,” Eris demanded.

Azriel would have ignored him had he not felt slightly responsible for Eris’s current state. It wasn’t that Eris hadn’t been a decent enough fighter, but they both hadn’t been expecting an ambush, and as the more experienced one, Azriel should have kept an eye on him. Azriel handed Eris the pitcher that had been sitting on the nightstand, watching as water sloshed over the edges and onto the dresser as Eris shoved a clean part of the shirt into it before he brought the wet fabric to his face.

Eris leaned closer to the mirror, nearly knocking over the pitcher, and made a funny noise deep in his throat before he spoke. “Cauldron fucking boil me,” he bemoaned, one of his fingers gingerly touching the tip of his nose. “I think it’s crooked.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. His nose looked fine, perfect, even. “It is not.”

Azriel was debating whether or not to sit in one of the chairs when Eris turned an accusatory gaze in his direction, “I blame you for this complete and utter disaster.”

Azriel blamed himself too. That night was supposed to be nothing more than a routine lookout. If he’d known that Koschei was going to send others after them, he wouldn’t have taken Eris with him in the first place. Azriel would have thought about what it might have meant that he’d wanted to take Eris with him, but Azriel was too focused on the way his shadows seemed to be trying to warn Eris that he’d probably end up making his injuries a lot worse if he didn’t calm down.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Azriel suggested, his voice smooth.

Eris paid him no mind, scrubbing a little too aggressively at the blood on his face. Most of it had come off, and his nose had finally stopped bleeding. “Don’t tell me what to do,” Eris muttered, wiping at some of the blood on his neck.

Azriel regretted that Eris had gotten hit in the face with the pommel of a sword, not really knowing why.

He’d spent years fantasizing about doing the very same thing, but spending so much time with Eris had Azriel - and he could barely believe it - liking him. “Vanserra, get on the bed,” Eris straightened, raising his brows, “Let me have a look.”

“First Cassian, now you. I don’t like being ordered around by overgrown bats.” Despite the statement, Eris made his way to the bed, leaning up against the headboard, boot clad feet on the dark red covers.

Eris was still scowling as Azriel tipped his head back just a bit, cradling Eris’s jaw in one hand, taking in every feature of his face. He was beautiful in an undeniable sort of way, and now that he’d cut his hair, Azriel thought he looked even better. Eris’s strange friendship with Nesta had led to the change; he'd let her, Feyre, and Elain cut it for no apparent reason and still managed to look ridiculously stunning.

Azriel gently wiped at any remaining blood that stained the other male’s skin. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, Azriel could feel the sharp planes of Eris’s face and was reminded of the first time he’d ever seen the Autumn Court prince. He’d thought Eris was classically beautiful in a way that reminded Azriel of broken shards of stained glass. Lovely, yet dangerous.

Azriel put the ruined shirt on the bed, using the hand that wasn’t holding Eris’s chin to move some of the hair that had fallen over Eris’s brow. His nose wasn’t bleeding anymore, a small cut underneath his eye was already starting to heal, and the bruise on his jaw seemed to be fading. His nose definitely wasn’t crooked, but Azriel ran the tip of his scarred finger along the sloped bridge of it just to make sure.

Azriel hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to Eris. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he murmured.

Azriel watched as Eris’s eyes fluttered. “I heard the crunch,” he breathed.

Azriel didn’t know what came over him, in the moment he thought it might have been madness. Eris was one of his oldest enemies, he was cruel, and ruthless, and he deserved only the worst. That was what he’d believed for centuries.

He didn’t know what might have possessed him to press his lips to the mean line of Eris’s mouth, but he knew that it felt… right. Eris parted his lips in a shocked gasp, golden flames bright in his wide eyes. Azriel was completely out of his mind. He’d never, not once in his entire life, done something without thinking it through. The panic seized him quite suddenly, his wings flaring just a bit as he made to move back, to move away.

Azriel was more than just a little surprised when Eris lifted his hand, threading his slender fingers into the dark hair at the base of Azriel’s scalp, pulling him closer in another kiss. Azriel kissed Eris harder this time, grabbing the other male’s face in both hands, thumbs sliding against sharp cheekbones, lips moving with the force of weeks’ worth of wanting. Eris’s bottom lip was caught between Azriel’s teeth, his other hand coming up to fist in Azriel’s leathers.

Weeks upon weeks of working with Eris, talking to him, trusting him. A helpless sound escaped Eris’s lips when Azriel slowly moved his hands so that his thumbs traced the shape of the smooth, pale, column of Eris’s throat. Azriel had more than a million things to do, but as Azriel opened his mouth, Eris’s tongue pushing against his in a savage claiming, Azriel leaned into him, all those things forgotten.

Azriel wanted to move so that he was right between Eris’s thighs, to press the other male into the bed, to watch a prince of Autumn come undone. Their kisses were messy, urgent, desperate. Eris pulled him closer, and Azriel thought he could drown in the feel of him, the taste of him. The taste of crackling embers, of rich cognac, of Autumn mornings.

Azriel’s hands slid down to Eris’s chest, undoing the golden buttons of his jacket, pulling it wide. Eris tugged on the roots of Azriel’s hair in a way that nearly had him forgetting his own name. Azriel couldn’t deny that he was drawn to Eris like a moth was drawn to a flame, he just hoped he didn’t get burned. The tips of Azriel’s fingers found the laces of Eris’s bloodied, ruined shirt. He wanted the shirt to come off, he’d never wanted anything more.

Never in his wildest dreams did Azriel think he’d want - need - Eris Vanserra. A prince born into the most savage of courts, born of blood, and ash, and fire.

Azriel was playing with fire.

Azriel didn’t like fire.

With only half a thought, Azriel roughly shoved Eris away from him.

Eris had red embers dancing in the deep amber of his eyes, his cheeks were flushed and his lips slightly swollen. They were staring at each other, no one speaking for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds in the room their ragged breaths and the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

Eris ran a hand through his hair, flashing Azriel the pale skin of his wrist as the sleeve lifted. “Well,” Eris started, “That was unexpected.” He huffed a breathless, awkward laugh.

Azriel guessed that it might have also been unwelcome.

“That was…” Azriel paused. He didn’t know what to say. That was nice? That was entirely unplanned? That was something they should do again? He couldn’t read the expression on Eris’s face and his shadows weren’t being very helpful. “That was a mistake.”

Azriel knew he’d chipped away at Eris all these weeks. They’d gotten past Azriel’s one-word answers and Eris’s cruel remarks. They’d researched, and spied, and fought together. They talked to one another, trusted one another, but as soon as Azriel finished his sentence, he thought that perhaps he’d taken any progress they’d made and thrown it into roaring flames.

Watching Eris flip from open and vulnerable to cold and aloof, was like watching the last rays of sun disappear over the horizon - blink and you’d miss it. Eris nodded once, his eyes cold, lifting his chin just a bit. Eris’s voice as he spoke was smooth, arrogant, not a hint of the warmth Azriel had gotten used to. “Usually, males and females alike wait until the morning after to say something along those lines.”

Azriel stiffened, well aware that he’d managed to hurt Eris. He didn’t know what to say to make this whole thing better, but was saved from having to speak when the door to Eris’s bedroom slammed against the wall as it flew open.

“I think I’ve found those—” Eris’s younger brother faltered, stopping suddenly, almost as if he’d hit some sort of ward.

Azriel nearly tripped over himself as he abruptly stood, him and Eris weren’t even that close to each other anymore but he felt like he desperately needed the space. Shadows frantically swirled around his feet, some skittering towards the Vanserra by the door. They hadn’t warned him for the second time that night of someone else’s presence, and Azriel was starting to think they were playing some sort of cruel joke on him.

Azriel had spoken to Rufus many times in their combined efforts to stop Koschei, and the young male almost always had something to say. Rendering him speechless wasn’t something that Azriel would have thought possible, but there he was, multiple ancient looking scrolls in his arms, his jaw slack as his russett eyes looked between the Autumn Court’s Heir and the Night Court’s Spymaster.

Azriel was certain that alarm was evident all over the features of his usually blank face, his shadows dancing around him as he waited for someone else to speak. - Rufus angled his head, amusement glittering in his all-too clever eyes. He looked very much like Lucien as he drawled, “Am I interrupting something?”

Eris’s sharp response nearly had Azriel flinching. “No.”

Rufus smiled, elegant auburn brows raised as he adjusted the scrolls in his arms, “I have many questions.”

Eris’s smile in return was more of a bare of teeth, “And you will ask none of them.”

“I’ll ask them later,” Rufus didn’t even look in Azriel’s direction as he threw himself onto one of the cushioned chairs by the fire. “I got those maps you asked for.”

Azriel had forgotten that they’d asked Rufus to look for some older maps of the continent. Eris had been sure that they would be able to find some in the library of the Forest House, and Rufus had been the one who offered to look for them.

“Are you going to look over these with us, Shadowsinger, or are you going to stay by the foot of Eris’s bed the whole night?”

Rufus spoke to Azriel, but Eris answered for him. “Azriel was just leaving.”

Azriel turned his head sharply to face Eris. He was still leaning against the headboard of his bed, his hair messier than Azriel had ever seen it, his mouth set in a way that suggested he wasn’t very pleased.

“Eris…” Azriel made to take a step towards him.

The Autumn prince just waved a hand dismissively, “Have a goodnight.”

Azriel barely heard him, the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. He couldn’t help but feel as though leaving Eris’s cottage might be an even bigger mistake than the kiss. Azriel nodded once at Eris, deciding he’d winnow straight to the House of Wind as shadows swarmed him; he wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone right now. Eris’s flame bright eyes was the last thing Azriel saw as he was engulfed in darkness.

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imaginethathaikyuu · 3 years

Text

tis the damn season

atsumu miya x fem reader

the first fic in a series i like to call “Me Writing Whatever The Hell I Want” (a working title) hope u like it or dont idk im not ur boss!!!!!!!!!!

synopsis: Running away was easy when you were chasing hazy dreams of a big city that was destined to be yours, when your rear-view mirror showed nothing but your hole in the wall hometown. But now it’s all waiting tables and failing auditions. You were still running, but somehow, these winding roads always lead you back to Miya Atsumu - a man you’ve loved and left, until you return home for the holidays.

tags: friends to lovers, exes to lovers, angst without a happy ending, established pre-relationship, friends with benefits, reader lives in Undisclosed Big City lmao who has celebrity dreams, atsumu is ur good ole southern boy (sort of), canon divergent, not edited, light nsfw, beginnings of sex but isn’t very detailed

word count: 4220

song inspo (tis the damn season by taylor swift)

i won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay…

. . .

The soundtrack of this early morning replayed in your head as you made a hazy drive to the neighborhood’s hardware store, cutting left onto the correct street and forcing the car’s back tire over the curb you couldn’t miss.

The replay of events looping in your mind? A whirring, then a splashing, then your father’s booming voice shouting curse words at anyone who could hear them. Your name was laced in there somewhere with demands for you to get to the kitchen, and you couldn’t tumble down the stairs fast enough to see what in the hell was going on.

It was your first day home for the holidays, and already it was a catastrophe.

Somehow your dad had busted a pipe underneath the kitchen sink and a strong stream of water was spraying halfway across the room because of it - your feet landed in a shallow pool when you finally reached the first floor. You didn’t have time to think of any questions before the man at fault, who was on his knees with his head hidden under the sink relentlessly trying to turn the water off, sent you out the door with more shouts, telling you to go to Miya’s Hardware and buy… something.

“A connector?” You were talking to yourself, thinking out loud as you finally parked, but it didn’t help you remember. All you could do was walk inside the store and hope someone knew what you needed.

It’d been years since you had been in this shop, but it looked just the same as when you were following your dad through its isles. You didn’t even bother browsing now, though - you went straight to the back of the store to the counter, expecting to see a familiar, perhaps older, face eager to help you.

That isn’t what you found.

“Well, hey stranger.”

That voice rang in your ears like you’d just heard it through a megaphone pointed directly at you. Something about it was so warm, but it left you with a shiver down your spine and goosebump ridden skin. You could feel the hair on the back of your neck standing up, and you hadn’t even turned in the direction the words came from.

But you didn’t have to look in order to know just who it was. “Atsumu.”

“What in the hell are you doing back in town?” His voice rang with excited confusion; it carried the same inflection as anyone who’s happy to see you. Like nearly forgotten family members at a reunion before it all goes to hell, or the way the tone of your father’s voice changes when you tell him you’re doing well and mean it. People don’t speak that way often.

He pulled you in for a hug and you gladly reciprocated, already forgetting that you were supposed to be in a hurry.

“Home for the holidays. How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright,” he replied. “I’ve missed you.”

His voice felt more like home than your four bedroom walls did, the charming drawl and depth in his words immediately reeling you in. It was familiar. You had spent a long time trying to forget about that familiarity; too long learning how to straighten out your words and lose any hint of the small town you came from. But Atsumu - he sounded like the epitome of this place.

He didn’t give you time to reply, for one reason or another; instead he decided to push you back by your shoulders and get a good look at you. Up and down and up again, likely noticing every change you had made to your appearance in your time away.

“Are you still wearing your pajamas, or is this a new… trend?”

You looked down at yourself, “Shit,” and closed your jacket tight over the old graphic t-shirt you wore, but nothing could cover your pink polka-dotted pants. And you’d have been hit in the face with embarrassment if the image of your dad and the broken sink and a flooded kitchen didn’t smack you first. “Shit, no, um… I need something to fix a broken sink. Are you… do you work here now?”

“I do - and you’re gonna need to be more specific.”

“I don’t know, Atsumu,” you laughed, slowly realizing the bizarreness of what you were about to tell him. “I woke up to my dad shouting and water shooting out from under the sink, literally flooding the kitchen. He told me to get a part for the pipe… a connector, or a couple, or something - I don’t know.”

“...A coupler?”

“Yes!”

“...He didn’t happen to tell you what size to get, did he?”

The look on your face must have been a good enough answer for him, because he took off into a random aisle and left you wondering just how many sizes of couplers there could be.

“This one will probably do the job,” he said as his path rounded the counter. “If it doesn’t, then, I can ignore the return policy for you. Just this once, though.”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu.” You made your payment and he slid your product over the counter as his elbows landed on it, leaning down to make himself comfortable. Like he thought he’d be there awhile.

“How long are you gonna be in town?”

“Two weeks. Why do you ask?” You knew why - you just wanted to hear him say it.

“We should catch up.”

He was grinning and shrugging and fidgeting with his fingers, just like he always did, and you would never turn down any offer he made you.

“We should. I’ve got to get home, but are you free tonight?”

“We close at six,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you said, meaning every word. You wondered if he knew that.

“So will I,” he replied, and then you made your way out before you convinced yourself to stay.

It’d been three years since you last spoke to Atsumu. In that time, you had done a lot that felt like nothing, living in a different city that felt worlds bigger than this town - that city was a place you had once convinced yourself was all yours. You had pulled off running away effortlessly.

But it didn’t matter how much time goes by between your meetings with Atsumu. There was something there that you could never shake, the hold you had on each other was anchor tight. Ten years could pass and you would speak to each other like it had only been one day. You’d have world ending fights and one of you would always come crawling back, letting the other win as long as it meant things would go back to normal.

You couldn’t describe it. You never tried, you didn’t need to. The unspoken acts between the two of you didn’t need to be explained. It was something akin to a best friend with all the benefits included and most of the strings attached - confusing and nerve wracking but still so comforting.

Atsumu was the closest thing to home you had in this town, and somehow every road always leads back to him. With a few detours on your part, of course, because you just couldn’t stay away too long. Even moving across the country didn’t change that - not like you thought it would.

You just barely missed the turn into your driveway, being so distracted by your thoughts. So much was rushing back, so much that shouldn’t be - it isn’t a big deal, it’s just Atsumu, but it felt grand, like this was some massive reunion.

But it wasn’t. You were only here to celebrate Christmas with your family. You weren’t even planning on seeing Atsumu, let alone meeting up with him or rekindling any kind of flame that was once there.

And it was such a rush that you couldn’t even question why he was working at his father’s store - or why he was even in this town at all. What happened to the dreams he was chasing?

For what felt like the first time in your life, you had questions for him. But you’d have to wait all day to ask them.

. . .

You were thankful to come home to a dry floor and a calmer father - he finally figured out how to turn the water off and decided to fix the pipe later. You knew he’d inevitably be paying someone more qualified to repair it, but your mind had no space for that problem.

You were still trying to figure out how you’d meander the night with Atsumu by the time he was picking you up, and when the two of you arrived at his home you still hadn’t found your answer.

Easing into this would be best, and once alcohol was introduced to the equation it would turn into a slippery slope.

Nothing was hard with Atsumu. You knew that - that’s why you couldn’t figure out why you were having such a hard time talking to him.

A lot had changed. Not between the two of you, not exactly. You were right back where you were three years ago: on his couch, sitting too close to him, laughing at something he had said that was only funny because he said it.

But your lives had changed. Your worlds had changed. His mind had very obviously changed, and because of it all, you couldn’t keep pretending that the two of you were teenagers again.

You had to bite the bullet and ask the question that was on your mind, completely knowing that he could throw a hard hitting question back at you.

It came out more effortlessly and lighthearted than you expected. “So… what happened to playing volleyball?”

Atsumu scoffed. “You still remember that pipe dream? Nothing happened, it was just childish.”

You didn’t like his answer, so you pressed him. You worked up the courage to start this conversation, so you were going to get to the bottom of things. “You said you wanted to catch up - I know you, Atsumu. You get what you want and you wanted to play volleyball. You were going to be a pro, you were good.”

“I know you know me,” he said, and the smirk on his lips didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I wanted to get drunk and chat, not start up a fucking therapy session.”

You sat patient and waiting, eyes on him, refusing to go without the answer to your question. You were teasing, really, eyeing him up and grinning as you watched him struggle. The problem was: you didn’t expect the answer you’d get.

“I - I had the chance.” There was a scratch in his throat that wasn’t caused by the whiskey he’d just swallowed. “I was being scouted and playing my ass off and there were talks of being on an Olympic team one day, but… shit happens, and that’s it.”

“What shit, Atsumu? You didn’t just give up, did you? Were you scared or something?”

You didn’t realize how close you were to him until his hand came down to rest on your knee, and both of you focused on that touch as his next thoughts became words. “Dad got sick. And ‘Samu had just opened the restaurant, and… there were bills to pay and the store to run. Even though I wasn’t his preference, Dad had no choice and left the legacy of Miya’s Hardware to me, so - that’s where I am.”

“Oh. I… I had no idea - I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. You were already long gone by then - don’t say sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you hugged him without thinking, but he hugged you back all the same. “I’m sorry, ‘Tsumu.”

“It’s okay,” he told you, but you didn’t feel okay. You were sure he didn’t, either. “It’s not your fault.”

You pulled away from him just enough to look at his face, and you hadn’t noticed the distance in his eyes until just then. As you looked at him, you realized it was only familiar to now. It wasn’t there years ago, when you got to look into those eyes every day.

“I should’ve been there for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, but his words were dangling on an edge. He didn’t quite mean them. “You were off in your own dream. I got through it.”

You only nodded. You weren’t sure what else to say after that.

As Atsumu sat back against the couch, he brought you with him, tucking you under his arm against his chest. His lips on your forehead made you close your eyes and for a second, it was like you were both nineteen again. You could’ve been, if time would only slow down or freeze or go back - what wouldn’t you give for that?

“I’m done talking about me,” he mumbled. “I wanna hear about your life now.”

You laughed, but quiet, “My life’s been fine.”

“Only fine?”

“You don’t see me on the big screen, do you?”

He laughed this time. “Not yet. One day, though. Have you gotten used to the city yet?”

“Oh… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, but… it does feel like home now. It’s so different from living here.”

“I bet.”

“I try not to romanticize it, but - I don’t know. It feels good, even if it’s not what I thought it’d be. The lights are pretty bright. Blinding compared to here.”

His response was a nod, and that was it. If he had any questions or comments, he held them back.

A break in the silence came soon, though. “You know,” he said, quiet, with a small laugh that was humorless, “I’m not as good at getting what I want as you think I am.”

“That’s not true,” you replied, and you were setting up an argument you weren’t ready to make. “You got me.”

“Did I?”

“What do you mean?”

Silence lingered, and after too long you sat up and looked at him, and that got him to talk.

“Nothing,” he insisted. He pulled you closer with two fingers holding your chin, and you didn’t resist. “Nothing, baby. Let’s just… just be quiet for a while.”

There wasn’t time for you to say anything else. His lips were on yours the moment he got his last word out. And even though you expected him to kiss you, it still made you gasp.

You couldn’t describe how much you missed kissing someone you wanted to, and Astumu’s kiss was like finding home. His lips were like candy, sweeter than sugar; his bite was a freezing shock that always pulled a giggle and a whisper of his name out of you. He knew how to kiss you, slow and deep with a hand on your jaw to keep you there, never leaving you wanting more because he gave everything you could ever need.

It didn’t take long for his kisses to trail down your neck, or for his shirt to come off, or for your back to land on the couch. You had already reached euphoria just seeing him hovering over you, eyes soft and hair askew; you didn’t need anything but this. You’d never want anything but this.

You did what you always did - trailed your hand down his torso, over his golden skin, stopping just after every freckle or scar or mark. This time, you were looking for something new. You didn’t find anything. You didn’t stop until your hand landed on his waist, and there, you squeezed -

“Stop, you little shit,” and he laughed, right along with you. A real and genuine laugh - you hadn’t heard that song in a long time. “Why do you always do that?”

Finally he moved down to press his chest against yours, his hips locking in place between your legs. A perfect combination.

“Why do you always give me the chance?” You were still laughing, not able to get over the cute sight. Atsumu was always so ticklish there, right on his waist, and when you made that discovery you swore you’d never forget it. And he sure as hell wished you would have. “You’re so cute. I’ve missed that smile.”

“I’ve missed you,” he replied. Somehow you just knew that he meant it.

“Don’t. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” he repeated. Like he was reassuring himself.

You took the initiative to unbutton your shirt yourself, so that there was no way for him to think that you wanted this to stop there. It couldn’t, not when you had him this close. And his eyes followed the popping buttons like stalking prey.

“And you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Fucking hell.”

You cringed - you couldn’t help the feeling in your gut when he gave you those sweet words. You knew he meant them in some way; you knew Atsumu wouldn’t lie to you. He’s never told you anything just for the sake of it. But how many times, in the last three years, had someone done just that? Told you just what you wanted to hear so they could get inside you? It was vile the first time. The second, it made you ache. But now, you’re used to it. Nobody means what they say. You’re used to it.

And Atsumu could snatch up any girl he wanted. A girl who’s used to blinding lights and expensive wine and lying - or a girl who would stay with him, who wouldn’t push his buttons, who would be effortless in her charm and wit and beauty.

You couldn’t put yourself in either category.

“You haven’t seen many, then.”

“Why would I even need to when I’ve got you? You’re a fucking dream. All I ever think about.”

You shook your head, not even noticing you were doing it. Atsumu wouldn’t have it.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Not when you know what you do to me. You’ve got my heart beating out of my chest, for fuck’s sake - it has been since you walked into the store.”

You never knew him to be so open with his feelings, or maybe you had just gotten used to being lied to. You weren’t sure and you didn’t care - all you could think about was kissing him, so you pulled him in, and you were sure he would devour you. You’d have no problem with that.

It was desperate when you said, “I need you.”

And reassuring when he replied, “I’m right here.”

He wasn’t close enough. You didn’t think he ever could be. And it was right then, when you were swimming in desperation, that you realized you shouldn’t have been doing this. It would only make leaving even harder. Doing it the first time was hell, letting him watch you leave and be okay with it. You hated yourself for wishing he wasn’t. And you were drowning.

You hated yourself for leaving.

You hated yourself more for coming back.

And you didn’t want to be there, all of a sudden, despite the ache in between your thighs and the addicting warmth he had you trapped in. You didn’t want to be there and you didn’t want to leave, either - you only wanted something easy, but you’d never have it. Not here, and not in the city, and not with Atsumu.

You felt him freeze, felt things shift. You hadn’t even noticed the way your energy had completely dropped.

“Something wrong?” He moved up to hold your face. He noticed the tears in your eyes before you did.

It was hard to look at him but you held his gaze, and his touch hurt more than it healed but you yearned for it. The concern on his face was genuine, the gentle strokes of his thumb on your cheek weren’t forced, and it all was making your stomach turn.

He cared for you - obviously he did - but not enough to ask you to stay. Not enough to find trouble in letting you leave him. So maybe you shouldn’t have a problem with it, either.

“No,” you said through a sore throat and a locked jaw. “Sorry, just…”

“We don’t have to do this,” he told you. “We can just talk - I want to talk. If it’s too much -”

“It’s okay,” you said. You tried to mean it as much as, “I miss you, Atsumu. I want you - touch me, I miss you.”

“I know,” and he was wiping the tears off of your cheeks as he kissed your lips, “I’ll take care of you, baby, just let me. Stop thinking so much. Let me take care of you like I always do, yeah? You want me to help you feel good?”

You always had a problem with that - thinking too much. He never hesitated to call you out on it. You nodded your head, strong and fast, like you were trying to knock the thoughts right out of it.

“Please, ‘Tsumu.” You were crying for him, pulling him closer. “Need you. Make it better, please.”

“I’d do anything,” he said. “You gotta quit crying, baby. You’re acting like our first time again.”

You laughed at that, wiping your own tears and knocking his hands away. “God, that was so embarrassing.”

“It was cute.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It was kinda hot, too.”

“Atsumu!”

It was his deep grin that made you relax again, and so did another blissful kiss that took your breath in a way that you enjoyed.

“You can cry, baby,” he said, popping buttons on both of your pants, “as long as it’s because of how good I’m making you feel. That’s what you need, pretty girl. Let me show you how much I’ve been missing you - get these pants off, baby, let me see you.”

He didn’t give you the chance to cry any more, at least not in an emotional sense. Your mind was stripped with your body, filled with nothing but him, no space between the two of you left for insecurities or questions.

It wasn’t until he coaxed you into his bedroom that those things had the chance to creep back.

Atsumu was out cold, cuddled into your chest and holding on tight to your waist, after smothering you in soft kisses and sweet sleepy words. You were comfortable there, warm and safe and content, but the pit in your stomach only grew. You watched him sleep, his mouth slightly open and eyes softly closed, and you wanted to reach down and kiss him but you resisted.

It was late and you should be asleep but you couldn’t rest. You couldn’t stop loathing yourself long enough to close your eyes, and the more you thought, the harder it got to breathe. Your throat was sore again. Your eyes were watering again. And every word you wanted to say to Atsumu was tumbling out of your mouth and falling onto sleeping ears.

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

He didn’t stir. It was still rumbling breaths and the whir of the air conditioner filling the silence.

“Everyone else did. But you. Why… You of all people should know I’m just as worthless there as I am here - I’ll never make it - I’ve changed everything and still…”

You sucked a hard breath into your lungs to stop a wracking sob, just barely holding it in.

“I just ended up here again. With you. I’m so alone without you but I can’t - fuck.”

It didn’t even matter what you were trying to say anymore, because you had no clue. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stay with him regardless of his choice to let you go, but something in you made you run. Maybe it was worthless pride or a childish desire to be something more - you didn’t know.

You didn’t belong in any industry you dreamed of working in. You weren’t born to be a star. You should know by now - should accept your failure and come back home for more than just one night.

But you couldn’t.

There was still a chance, wasn’t there?

A chance to belong somewhere.

A chance to be led home.

A chance to make it. Would you die trying?

You would leave in the morning. And you wouldn’t ask Atsumu to wait for you as he started getting ready for the day. And Atsumu wouldn’t ask you to ditch your own plotted destiny just to stay with him.

But this would happen again. Every time you would swear it off and every time, you would travel roads that take you right back to this town, this bed, these arms.

Running away would never get easier, but this is all it would ever be with him. He would never stop you leaving - and you would never ask him to.

. . .

...so i’ll go back to LA

#i researched how to fix pipes for this #by research i mean i went to hope depot dot com and looked at Pipes #my friend actually busted his sink pipe the other day exactly like i wrote and our other friend (who works at lowes) said he needs a Coupler #in conclusion i dont know how sinks or pipes work. do not perceive me or my writing.#miya atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #i forget what other tags i need to use lmao

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Note

You're asked to choose one and only one or DC's future stops existing immediately. your choices:

1. Jason Todd the anti-hero who seldom works with only a couple of the bats he doesn't hate, for example Dick and Cass VS. Jason Todd who came back with healed body but broken spirit, folded back into the Gotham gang and learns to be part of the society again.

2. Tim Drake who makes all of his mistakes as canon but realizes he's been wrong and apologizes to people VS. Tim Drake back in his first iteration, a cute little brother character who is a reader insert and a fun teenager.

3. JayKyle VS DickKyle.

4. Jason Todd with a sword VS. Damian Wayne with a sword.

5. Chris Kent VS. Jon kent.

Okay but which DC future? Its omniversal future? Its hypertime future? Its multiversal future? Its Elseworlds future? Its dark multiverse future? Mwahahaha your threat is useless because the sheer wtf of DC's continuities, timelines and conflicting declarations of what to even call their multiomnihyperverse makes it impossible to target simply A future! DC's overly unnecessarily complicated nature renders it functionally immortal and impossible to ever truly destroy, take that Darkseid.

I mean. But anyway. Whatevs:

1) I honestly do prefer the idea of Jason someday fully reuniting/reintigrating into the Batfam as a whole, because fuck it, the found family I'm here for is the one where they actually act like a family....I just think it takes actual work to get to that point and I get irey when people are like we're here! We found it! And its like meanwhile, abusive dynamics still abound. Mmm. No thank you. But even though I've been on a huge Jason and Dick and Cass kick for like, forever, I do still aim for him having a dynamic of his own with the rest of the family.

Like the thing is, I hate playing the favorites card in families, and I think the emphasis on so and so being Bruce's favorite child or so and so being this kid's favorite sibling, etc, like it really does feel like to the detriment of the whole family, because once you start validating the idea of favorites, ESPECIALLY in a found family that is CONTINUOUSLY growing....I think you're kinda shooting yourself in the foot because you're kinda creating a situation where either no future new additions to the family can EVER be Bruce or one of the kids' 'favorite' or else you're innately positing that said fave status is conditional and even a current fave of Bruce or a sibling can be bumped down the ladder by the addition of a later arrival....

Which is LITERALLY the entire essence of the eternal conflict between Dick and Damian and Tim fans. Its not even that Damian is Dick's favorite, allegedly, its that prior to Damian's very EXISTENCE, fans felt comfortable declaring Tim unilaterally to be Dick's 'favorite'.....and then all it took was the addition of a single family member who had specific NEEDS in regards to Dick's attention and focus, largely because of his age and needing a legal guardian while Tim was old enough to literally jet set around the world on his own.....and like, everything went up in flames in large corners of fandom.

So I'm just like, death to the fave family member myth, its just incredibly counter productive to the idea of found family as a whole especially when it usually only exists to prop up a preferred character as better than others via the proof of see, these other characters say he's their fave or whatever...but also like, its not even necessary?

Because the thing is, you can have Jason reintegrated into the whole family overall, and still prioritize your personal narrative FOCUS on characters you like more than others, like say Dick and Cass.....because of course its natural for even people in the same family to have entirely different DYNAMICS with different family members....and these dynamics don't have to come with a ranking system in order to prioritize which ones you just focus on more in a story. Because its not necessarily that Dick has to be Jason's fave brother, y'know, just for Jason to prefer spending time with Dick simply because he's more comfortable with him due to knowing him longer or being more secure in the idea that Dick doesn't judge him based on their greater shared history.

This doesn't mean that Jason doesn't care for his other siblings, that he can't have strong dynamics with them as well, its just about finding a reason for why these two specifically might be in a story without the others that doesn't demand putting a definitive ranking on which one Jason considers his FAVE. Just like Damian doesn't have to be Dick's FAVE just for them to have the super close canon relationship they have, even relative to the other siblings, because there's everything needed in canon already to establish that the mere fact of Dick essentially RAISING Damian for a year, and being the first one in the family to really take a chance on Damian, like, this lends itself naturally to them maybe more naturally gravitating towards each other than other siblings due to comfort level and familiarity, etc, but it doesn't have to be like....oh but yeah, I just like Damian more than you, Tim, y'know?

So my answer on this one is a total cop out of both, both is good. Jason totally reintegrated back into the family, but with dynamics that still lend themselves fairly easily towards story lineups where its just him running missions with Dick or Duke or any other one or two specific family members even if for no other reason than they gel together best in the field, y'know?

2) Hmm. I honestly really do love and miss 90s Tim Drake and just....don't see him in a lot of what I read these days. I'm like no, why did he have to go, he was doing so well! BUT I'm also on a big accountability kick, and like, I'm so steeped in fics where Dick GROVELS for forgiveness for every little slight he's ever done real or imagined, with every character but Tim in particular, so its like.....I'm not gonna lie, I really have a preference these days for seeing stuff where its literally anyone actually owning up to shit they've done to Dick and apologizing or groveling or making it to HIM, like, completely unconditionally. In the same manner we usually see Dick apologizing, glossing over any reasons he might have had for doing what he did or feeling the way he did, and saying oh it doesn't matter, putting the entirety of his focus on what HE did and why it was wrong no matter what and he's sorry.....that's what I would kill to see from more fics, just in reverse.

Because so often even in the all too rare fics where we DO see other characters apologizing to Dick for shit, its watered down with Dick volunteering that oh he messed up too, it was a two way street, and its like no! This is Pettiness Hours! I want the unconditional apologies! Give me the groveling! From anyone, I don't care at this point, lol, just show me characters actually PUTTING IN THE WORK to make it up to Dick for harm they've caused him, even if completely unintentionally or via neglecting his feelings or considering the repercussions their actions or words would have on him. Aaaaaaand, frankly, Tim's a good place to start there, because of how one sided all the takes on their conflicts have been for so many years. I mean, if people need a place to start, Batman and Robin Eternal gets enough praise it can't be pretended that people in fandom don't know that story exists, so how about some stories where Tim says he's fucking sorry for punching Dick in issue #4 or #5 of that one, and it was uncalled for and he was clearly just looking for an excuse to unleash some more of his resentment and upset for the Spyral/Forever Evil stuff, and family deciding that its totally okay to punch Dick whenever they're mad at him and need to work off some aggression so they can then finally forgive him (for now) is a trend that needs to die in a fire post-haste? I mean just as an example.

But the thing that kills me about fanfic trends is like....the sameness of so much of it. There's SO much room for variety and diverse takes, and like....I don't actually hate Tim! I'm just cranky because of the imbalanced nature of most content out there for literal years at this point. Push the pendulum BACK in the other direction, create some balance by showing the flip side of things.....and that leaves a lot more room for me and others of like minds to then be more amenable to - and even interested in - other stories that don't scratch this particular itch, but don't need to, because other stories are doing the scratching by then, y'know?

And THEN like, at that point, I would be ALL FOR more stories that are just callbacks to classic 90s Tim who I adore, with his skateboarding and his EARNESTNESS and his go-get-em spirit and also the gumption. All the gumption. I like that Tim. I do miss that Tim. But like, for the moment, like, I want accountable Tim because I am tiiiiiiiired of groveling Dick and tbh at this point its not enough for me to just see people move past putting Dick in that position and just have mutually respective and doting brothers Dick and Tim having adventures together......nah, first I want some reciprocation. Ngl. Gimme the apologies for actual mistakes actually made.

3) DickKyle. Easy question, c'mon, you gotta know that. LOL. ;)

But yeah, I've been shipping these two off their like, two shared pages from way back in the Obsidian Age story years before Jason even returned, let alone was in Countdown together with Kyle, so like, its no contest. I don't mind JayKyle, I certainly prefer it to JayRoy tbh, but there's not a ton of appeal in it for me, particularly in how its usually depicted, because like....the entire basis of JayKyle is that they DO have stories together and spent a whole year worth of weekly issues traveling the multiverse together in Countdown.....but there's like, practically no trace of their actual dynamics from that series or any specifics of literally any issue from that entire comic in most fics I’ve read, so its like.....idk, it tends to come across as more generic, not in the sense that it cant still be interesting, but more in the sense that it feels like just someone paired with Jason just because history between them EXISTS without any interest in exploring what that history actually IS....and at that point, its like, well there's no reason TO prioritize that ship over DickKyle for me personally, when like, I have a shit ton of headcanon reasons for why those two in a pairing specifically. *Shrugs* My logic. Its not for everyone, but it works for me.

4) Jason with a sword or Damian with a sword? I don't understand the question. Both. Both is good. All the characters should have swords. Swords are awesome.

5) Chris Kent vs Jon Kent - oof. I adore Jon, I really do. I love his dynamic with Damian, I love a lot of their specific stories, the parallels between them as friends and Bruce and Clark as friends....its all very bien. But I gotta give this one to Chris, because I'm always gonna have a soft spot for him because I'm a sucker for all abused kid heroes, and I just miss that funky little dude so much. There's so many stories we didn't get with him and were just ripe for the picking, but nooooo, DC's like lol you can't have nice things, here we just rebooted the entire multiverse and now Clark and Lois never adopted the son of Clark's worst Kryptonian rival and raised him with tender love and care awww does that make you sad, were you invested in him, WELL TOO BAD, HE'S GONE NOW AND BASICALLY NEVER EXISTED, NOW GIVE US YOUR MONEY ANYWAY MWAHAHAHAHAH.

Yeah. I'm still not over that. Probably will never be tbh, so I with great grudge-bearing do affirm that I'm gonna go with Chris on this one and like, he is a Priority for me and I'm still very keen on the idea of him and Duke being besties for random reasons that might not make sense to anyone but me, but eh, whatever.

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impaladolan · 3 years

Note

I have an idea for capture (smut) hehe. So maybe y/n gets curious about who G is and goes snooping in his office before she can find anything or maybe she sees a pic of her from when they knew each other to add some spice?? Idk but then he strips her naked (I see him wearing like his work suite) and spanks her over his knee, maybe she wets herself and he starts mocking her and then sits her up so she’s straddling him and fingers her for being a good girl 🥰

Capture - Grayson Dolan [6/-]

summary: mischievously snooping around the house when “capturer” is gone, y/n’s on a mission to find out his true name, but bad behavior deserves consequences, right..?

warnings: smut, degrading + daddy kink, & of course swearing.

a/n: i’m in love with this prompt, it’s too good not to use. ty sweetie! 😊😚

The loud shutting of a door that reverberated through the entire house had quickly awoken you from your light slumber. You blinked a couple times to gain your surroundings, as one usually does when they first wake up. The sound of an engine starting had made it to your ears, the slide of a garage door following. It seemed to be an early hour, not even the sun was awake and shining quite yet. You weren't sure why, but you felt the urge to get up and look out at who was leaving. You knew almost for sure that it was just you and your capturer, but there could always be someone else that you didn't even know of.

This house is pretty large, it wouldn't be doubtful.

You get up from laying comfortably across the covers, hurrying your legs towards the huge window.You slowly pull away the drapes, the view of headlights clouding your already blurry vision. After quickly rubbing your eyes, attempting to rid the morning crusts from them, you're able to focus your eyes back out the window and watch as an expensive looking car entered the driveway. You couldn't tell what color or even type of vehicle it was, but the cab lights were on and the familiar silhouette was visible enough to know that it was him.

The vehicle continues to slowly drive through his driveway, only stopping when he comes in close contact of the oversized gate. It looked like he rolled his window down, reaching his arm out to tap something, you weren't exactly sure, but when the gates opened and closed, and he was out of view; you smiled.

You knew exactly what to do while he was away...

Something that's been bothering you for awhile, other than being forceful abducted and cooped up in a beautiful home, was the loss of not even knowing his name. Now, no one in their right mind would go snooping around in a strangers home, but no one in their right mind would steal someone either. So, it was a pretty good exchange.

You giddily rushed over to your bedroom door, twisting the knob and it opening without any trouble. It's quite weird he trusts you enough to keep all the doors unlocked and accessible.You close the door behind you as you exit, the extremely freezing floors bothering your feet the moment you stepped foot on them. It still appalled you as to why he kept it so damn cold around here, it doesn't make sense.

You run your hand along the wall, noting where his room is and training your eye on a certain door handle at the very end of the hallway. It could be just a closet, but it looked odd compared to the rest of the hallway's doors.

You find yourself finally in reach of the knob, not a second thought coming to you as you freely twist it open, yet another unlocked room. It's like he wants you to go around snooping.

You widen the double-doors to get an entire view of the room, a very cluttered yet clean looking office is what you've been opened to. It was a pretty spacious room, bookshelves decorating the walls leading up to his large desk. The entire room had a very dark and intimidating aura, almost ominous if you think about it too much.

You continue your tiptoeing walk towards the large desk, planting your hand upon the oak-finish and letting it travel around the curve. You plop down in his comfy office chair, softly giggling as you swivel around, eyeing the small picture frames set up around his computer. They were all innocent little family pictures until one of them caught your eye;

A picture of you.

Your breath became caught in your throat and you mind began to race, but you couldn't think too much of it. You were in a mission and you'd be damned if you never figured out his name.

Brushing the odd picture aside, which was luckily one of your better photographs, oddly from high school, you decide to tap on his computer. Swirling the mouse around, it comes to life in an instant and you can't help but notice that it doesn't have a password either.

"What the hell is up with this guy?" You mutter to yourself, furrowing your brows in confusion as you click open the browser page. The confused look upon your face morphs into an annoyed one as you're met with the home screen of the one and only PornHub website.

You didn't expect anything less at least.

You click away and into a new tab, looking for some sort of an email address or identification, anything that could help you find what his name is. Just about as you were about to press on something labeled with G, the door slams open, and your heart falls to a crash on the floor.

Fuck.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He storms in, his dark and booming voice frightens the life out of you. Your eye quickly widen, your mouth falling agape and trembling. He stuck his large hands into his pockets, and did a painfully slow stride towards you. Even in immediate shock, you couldn't help but roam your eyes upon his sturdy physique. The tight fitting clothes wrapped around him and exposed his menacing frame, what looked to be a standard white dress shirt and dark colored slacks. His sleeves were halfway rolled up and his hair looked so soft and touchable, something you wouldn't mind rested between your legs..

But you soon jump back into reality when he's become only a few feet in distance from you, his towering, sculpted body looking down upon you. You shrink under his gaze, unable to move or get up from his chair.

He takes a few steps closer to you, an unnerving smirk rising on his lips. "Think you're cute, going through my things darling?" He daringly asks, but you're focused on the visible veins stretching from his pocketed hands and up his forearm, essentially leading towards his bicep that you could still see, even through his shirt.

"I asked you a question." His tone snapped even further down, shaking your core like a rattle. "Uhm, I-I-" You were speechless, unable to even create any words and speak them through your mouth. You knew you were in for it, and deep. There's no talking him out of anything, especially with his tempered demeanor.

"Up." He demands, suggesting the motion with his hand. You quickly oblige, standing up from his chair and nervously crossing your arms across your body with wide eyes. He moves out of the way, letting you walk past him and hurry to the door. You could feel the burning hole in the back of your head as he watched you.

"Take it all off, right fucking now." He abruptly orders, making you turn and give him a bewildered look. He lowers his eyes, examining your small, shuttering frame. Before you would be under the fearful wrath of him, you decide to follow his orders and strip.

You firstly pull your oversized shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest to his darkened eyes. He was sat in the chair you were initially in, his elbow sat upon the desk and his chin rested between his fingers.You refrain from meeting his glare, but just the thought of him watching you in such a vulnerable state made you excited, needing for his touch already.

Your body shutters from the cool air around you as you slowly slide off the warm sweatpants, leaving you in only a black, sleek thong that surely kept his eyes trained on you.

You finally look up, shielding your breast from his view as you notice the tightening of his firm jawline. He lifts his chin, inaudibly asking you to walk over to him, and you do. You take slow strides around the oak desk as he turns his seat to face you. He pats his lap, keeping his sinister stare on you.

You come in close contact with him, almost sitting yourself upon his lap until his hands grab your thighs, pulling you over him with your abdomen over his knees and your ass high in the air. "Think you were getting away so soon?" He chuckles, connecting his warm hand to your freezing backside and roughly ripping the only garment shielding you from him. You shook your head just as his hand firmly planted itself against your ass, an alarmed cry emptying from your mouth.

"You don't stop counting until I say so, understand princess?" He softly rubs at the red mark he had just given you, sending sparks up your spine to make your mind foggy.

"One-"

"Two-"

"Eleven!"

"F-Fourteen-"

"Twenty-y.."

Twenty different times he spanked you over his knees, and you fucking enjoyed every single one. Your wetness dwindled from your aching heat and down your inner thigh, while your ass remained dark red like a cherry.

"You're fucking soaked, darling." He seemingly mocks, running his hand down towards your drenched pussy, slipping his long fingers flush against your folds. You reach your hand behind you, wrapping it around his forearm and steadfastly grasping it. "Please.." You beg, turning you head to give him a weary look of plea.

Taking initiative, he pulls you upright in a straddling formation. "Needy fucking slut for Daddy, yeah?" He seethes, entering two of his long, sleek fingers and swiftly thrusting them upwards. You slam your eyes shut, grinding your teeth against your bottom lip."Yes-ss!" He curls his submerged digits, grinning like a maniac at your needing state. Your legs began to tremble from beneath you, and you ran your hands up his arms, holding onto his flexed biceps for support.

Your breathing began to rapidly increase and that familiar knot began to ravel within you. He adds another finger, leaning forward to wrap his lips around your sharpened nipple, sending your head back in ecstasy. Your grip around him tightens as his other hand travels down your abdomen, sending goosebumps all over your exposed skin. He slips his thumb down to your clit, soothingly massaging it in wide circles, making you gasp for air.

“You think you deserve to cum on my fingers so soon?” It sounded like he was chuckling, watching as you fall apart above him. You nod incoherently, almost letting loose to just his words. You open your eyes, gazing into his own like you were asking permission. He read your mind like a book, nodding his head in a slow yes.

And you finally were able, to let go.

You came upon his fingers like it was your first time ever, a yelp emitting from your throat and echoing around the room. It halted his actions, letting you gain consciousness again.

“Get back to your fucking room before I make you regret ever leaving it, now.”

to be continued...

#dolan twins #dt #dolan twins smut #grayson #ily #capture #graysonbailey #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan gifs #graysondolan #grayson and ethan #grayson!capturer #grayson dolan #dick grayson #grayson x reader #grayson imagine #grayson blurb #smut

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feriferfer · 4 years

Text

IDK what this is, but it is what happens when I relapse into a shipping whore.

So AOS just ended, and even if I stopped watching and then re-watched it and then died when they announced Daniel Sousa was making a guest star, I always loved the show and the characters.

I totally blame Daniel Sousa for making me fall so hard for Dousy (people, make peace with it already).

So here are my head canons (if you finish reading this I’ll give you a cupcake). I basIcally thought and wrote and didn’t much care for grammar or semantics much.

So this is how my brain works.

Also, I wish I had the time to actually make this into a proper fic, but I don’t.

It basically covers the year we didn’t get to see.

Kora stays with Daisy as she recuperates, mainly because she is the only one on the ship who can give her enough warmth for her to regain her temperature when it suddenly starts spiking down.

They talk. Daisy forgives her, because she recognizes the same lost girl she was in her.

Kora is still defensive and questioning a lot of her decisions, but Daisy assures her that she shouldn’t stress about it, but take it one day at a time.

They trade stories regarding their mother. Before they dock back at the Lighthouse they agree that Jiaying was not the best of mothers, but she did try her best to work with what she had been given.

When they arrive back at the lighthouse Daisy is still a little fazed, but she doesn’t let it bother her as she realizes the worry Daniel was in.

It’s a weird feeling, the one where she finds herself glad in knowing there is someone waiting for her specifically.

He is at her side almost instantly. Just as impulsive as he had kissed her, he hugs her, and tells her he’s glad she’s ok.

Daisy breathes him in and realizes the tears she had already dried up begin to fall once more. She allows herself to feel the embrace of this man out of time who has somehow gotten her attention and respect.

Everyone asks about Fitzsimmons’ whereabouts, and they get informed about their little rendezvous regarding their daughter.

Mack orders them to rest, their next mission can wait.

Daisy chooses the bunk next to Sousa’s because she has gotten used to him being by her side and without Fitz or Simmons around she’s sure she’ll be restless.

They only get an hour of sleep before Fitzsimmons arrive back, with Piper, Flint and baby Alya in hand.

Daisy is out like a light, Daniel wakes her up because he knows she needs to see her family, and in that instant, as he is sheepishly explaining to her how he debated whether or not to wake her up for this but ultimately decided to do so, she kisses him again.

He is smiling when they part, and she whispers a thank you as she stands to go and finally see the miracle that is Alya Fitz-Simmons with her own eyes.

Daniel, as always, is trailing behind her, constant and solid and Daisy wonders as she stares at the little girl with blond hair and vivid eyes just how all of this was even possible.

Ok so umm, is this a multichapter bullet point fic?

Jemma has Alya on her lap as she talks to Daisy.

Daisy can’t decide where to fix her eyes, on the gorgeous miracle that is Alya, or on Sousa and Mack who both look tired and strangely content as they share a beer.

The thought sneaks up on her.

She understands why, even if they did have the time stream and could see the timeline play out, she knows why Enoch and Fitz were so sure of this being their last mission as a whole team together.

Because of Alya. She tells Simmons as much and Jemma agrees, a sad smile on her lips which turns blissful as she strokes her daughter’s hair.

They want to give their little girl a normal life, or well, as normal as they can, and they can’t do that while being active agents.

Daisy agrees and claims that if anyone on the team deserved such a life it was them.

Jemma disagrees, because she also deserves some kind of respite in her life.

Daisy only smiles as her eyes drift over to where Sousa still sits, now alone and contemplating his surroundings, probably trying to take in the fact this was where (or well, when) he would probably end up.

Jemma sees this, but does not comment, for she knows how to read her friend and knows there are still things that she needs processing and figuring out all by herself.

So she asks, she asks about Daisy’s plans for the nearby future.

Daisy shrugs, but she knows she’s not done with SHIELD, and she doesn't think everyone else is.

She’s still an agent, she claims, she’ll go wherever she’s needed, with whomever she’s needed by.

Because life is funny, Kora then enters the room, still weary and out of place. Simmons sees her first and tells Daisy.

Daisy realizes then: they had fought for family, so that this family could survive, so that everyone’s families could thrive.

Kora was now part of that family.

Daisy calls out to one sister to properly introduce her to the other.

Daniel watches, amazed at how his life has ended up, and enthralled with the fact it seems someone like Daisy Johnson apparently likes him back enough to turn her eyes towards him and give him a soft and promising smile right before continuing her interaction with her sisters.

Mack chuckles at him and congratulates him on his decision.

Sousa doesn’t much understand things, and he knows he’s about to get confused with just about everything, but he finds he doesn’t mind much of it. These are good people with good hearts and even if there is a feeling of finality to their team, there is also the sizzling feeling of something entirely new and equally amazing starting.

He asks the current director about their next move, about what will happen to the team.

Mack answers with a sigh, but with the truth.

He needs to get out and head to HQ to remind the rest of the organization about his position. He’s been MIA for enough time. He thinks it’s time to take on his role more permanently. More directing, less fighting.

He tells him about Fitzsimmons plans to retire for a while.

And the rest? Daniel asks, because there are still more members of the team and even if there is something brewing there with Daisy, he wants to know how he can be a part of events.

Mack doesn’t really know yet, and states it.

--------------------

What am i doing? Part 123456789

It isn’t until the next morning, when Mack announces he is leaving for HQ when Coulson tells the team about his decision to give himself a year to see what he wants to do with his new life.

May smiles at him, soft and honest and finally coming to terms with the fact that even if the man is all the best parts of Coulson, he isn’t really Coulson. She will always love him, but their time has already passed.

She tells him she approves and it’s like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders as he smiles back.

Daisy’s eyes get watered, but tears do not fall, because it means she still has a year to tease and rely on him. It’s more than she had ever expected to have.

Daniel sits by her side, Kora on the other and Alya can’t seem to get enough of everyone and she’s constantly running from one aunt and uncle trying to get them to tell her stories about their adventures.

Jemma apologizes.

Mack informs Daisy she has a spot on Z1, if she wants it, she can build her own team and will be granted as much vacation time as she desires.

Daisy appreciates it and instantly turns to look at Sousa, noting how his stance relaxes and she comes to the realization he was afraid for his own future. She’s not sure where their relationship is going. She knows they like each other well enough and that there is a feeling of attraction and comfort which she had not felt -ever. But she knows he’s dependable and solid and she owes it to him to give him a fighting chance in this century.

Looking at Kora, she realizes she has two people in care now, two people she will gladly ease into her world and into her time.

Elena is fast to inform she’ll head back to HQ with her boyfriend, claiming she needs some time off as well.

Piper and Flint don’t feel as exhausted, they claim they’re glad to head back to HQ and continue working wherever Mack sends them.

The last to talk is May who surprises everyone by stating she is done.

Daisy asks her SO why, demanding a valid reason for her abandoning her work, reminding her that everything she is as an agent was because of her.

May can feel Daisy’s anguish and her fear for the unknown.

She looks at the young woman she has helped grow and she realizes her feelings are slowly getting there, returning and making her head spin at the same time.

May simply states it is time for the new generation to continue doing what she had done for many years. Looking straight at Daisy, May adds that she is sure her legacy will be well-continued.

It’s not that they are being forced to split up, or that they’ll never see each other again, but it is time and Daisy can feel it. Can feel how even if she will still work under Mack’s direction, she won’t have him as her permanent back up, that role has changed now. There is another solid man who is willing to stand beside her and even though it is still fairly new, she has a feeling it will work.

She’ll be fine, she always is. Her family is not lost, it will still be there. She is not lost, she knows who she is and knows what she wants to do.

---------

The lighthouse is empty, left in her charge while she waits for Mack’s orders from HQ.

Coulson and May were the last to leave, Coulson receiving an order for him to report to HQ.

May had just been sticking around to ensure some more time in his presence and once the old AC had gone, she had followed.

Kora and Daniel roam the place, both amazed by the tech and the stories Daisy shares with them.

She finds him one day, they have barely been there a week, not a lot of time has passed for them to have talked everything out. There was a lot to process. Especially for him.

He’s reading something and she realizes it is his file, she teases him about it and he never fails to surprise her by teasing her back, giving her a piece of newspaper he found where the name Quake is in headlines.

She groans but appreciates his effort of finding out about the world.

She realizes then she hasn’t properly introduced him to the internet.

She thinks he’ll freak and thus proceeds to do just that.

He is in fact amazed and gets the hang of using it way too quickly. She feels strangely proud and fuzzy about it and she shakes the emotion off because sure, they like each other, and Deke did stay behind because he could see it, but they were still waiting on orders and until her life didn’t move forward she would wait to decide what to do with the rest of it.

She gets orders from Mack to build her own team a day later.

She has been training with Kora and she knows her sister is still a little off and not ready for full combat or missions, but she convinces Mack to let her be her sister’s SO and all while she does this she has May’s voice in her head.

Daniel is as solid as ever as she gives him the option of staying at HQ and training up there or joining her. Because well, she does like him a lot, he is constant, and kind and such a square and a dork she can’t believe she feels this attached and attracted to him, but he is quick and witty and he makes her laugh on most days and he actually gets along fairly well with Kora and she doesn’t feel like losing one of the few good things she has gained during the last month.

Of course he takes her offer of being in her team.

She teases him on the day they are departing the base. He hasn’t been out and about in the 21st century, even if he has seen a couple of movies with her now, and he does enjoy going on google maps. But she knows it is different.

He teases back, talking about restaurants and movies and bars and Daisy realizes it is his dorky way of asking her out.

She laughs, says yes and before they know it, there is a Zephyr arriving and their conversation cut short.

Daisy finds herself cursing the ship and her sister who is the one who interrupts them.

The Zephyr brings a whole team of new agents to take over the Lighthouse.

Inside she is met with Mack and Elena who greet her as though it has been years since they last saw each other.

They tell her she is needed back at HQ. So she’ll get to see Coulson for a while. That’s nice.

Sousa stays in the cockpit because he has never seen this world before. Daisy finds him there, the ship flying on autopilot.

This time it is him who thanks her, for allowing him a second chance. Because he has read all about Peggy and SHIELD and HYDRA and he understands that everything had a purpose, even his failed relationship with the famed Agent.

Daisy doesn’t dare push because she thinks she might combust if he continues his line of thought.

Out of everything, liking someone was not something Daisy had been planning on occurring to her in the near future. Maybe in the far off one, but definitely not near.

Life was funny that way.

He is admiring the view. She can’t help it, she leans in and grabs his chin to turn his face gently towards her own. She kisses him, gently and tries to convey the thousand and one thank yous she should be giving him.

He returns the kiss, as he has always done everything time they do this. Because they have done this, a lot of times. Because funnily enough he is a flirt and she is flirt and there is only so much foreplay she can handle.

But this time it’s different, because it feels different, it feels as if she is finally letting him in, finally making her decision regarding him.

He had already chosen to stay with her, now she was choosing to stay with him.

----------

She doesn’t get to actually work with Coulson, Mack has him as his personal confidant and assessor. She feels it was meant to be.

She does get to see him though, and she is glad, because Daniel Sousa is making her head spin and she has no idea how to control it.

Even Kora manages to tease her about it, as they are training one day and the simple mention of Daniel’s name makes Daisy stumble because she is reminded of the previous night and how she had no clue a man could make her feel that way.

Coulson tells her, point blank, to stop fooling herself and give the man a break.

Daisy stops responding to Coulson's calls for a week.

Jemma is always patient and insightful, but way too optimistic.

They are doing fine, their relationship is progressing as normal as one can when you’re an inhuman working for SHIELD, trying to build up a team in order to take them out to space.

She tries to get more information regarding said mission out of Mack at least once a week, her old partner never budges, but does tease her about her boyfriend, because everyone enjoys teasing her about him.

She always wants to scream because of it, but forgets all about it the second she gets to spend time with Daniel and he greets her with the same dorky and loving smile as he talks about his day and she talks about hers and it is so domestic and it suddenly dawns on her. Why her head has been feeling fuzzy.

She has a home, and a pseudo domestic life and she has never had that in her life.

As they finish dinner that night, she grabs Daniel and doesn't let him go for the rest of the night. She prays her sister arrives home late as she usually does.

She tells him she loves him that night and when he answers back she feels her world righting again and everything just becomes easier.

She only tells Jemma about it. Coulson and Mack figure she has figured it out and she ignores them.

It is fitting that she finishes building her team up only a week after that.

The pieces fall in place and she finds herself happy.

It takes her three weeks to notice she hasn’t seen or heard from Coulson or Mack in said time.

She finds she doesn’t mind much.

She then realizes it is because Coulson left to visit May at her new job and she breaks out into a full hearty laugh as Coulson explains what May has chosen to do with her life.

She goes on her first mission with her own team after that. Something pretty straight forward. A test of sorts to see if they truly will work well together.

It feels nice to be back on the Z1.

She almost laughs when she realizes how well she and Daniel work together, and he definitely laughs at her when they all realize Kora is the better pilot of them all -Daisy included.

She visits Fitzsimmons on her own, because Kora still feels awkward around them and she needs to finish some report she promised Coulson and Daniel is in the middle of a solo mission.

It is a quick visit, because her life is still busy and she was actually finishing up on her own sort of mission near Scotland and she can’t help it.

Jemma is glad she took the time, Fitz, as always is great and enthusiastic and is not there much because Alya adores her dad and doesn’t allow him much time to be in the room with the other two adults.

Daisy feels a pang of longing, and quickly shakes it off. She admires her friends for retiring and for having the courage to have a family.

She still has things to do. While she can.

When they reunite both are exhausted for different reasons, but both Daniel and Daisy agree that while they had very successful missions, they prefer to work together.

She claims it is much easier.

He claims it is a lot more fun.

The Z3 is ready, Mack tells her, and Daisy feels a pang of excitement.

She tells her team and they are all equally excited.

SWORD is hers, she has earned it and she revels in the fact she doesn't cower at the prospect of leading. She has a good man by her side who proves to her every single day she can do all these things on her own but she doesn’t have to.

She has a sister who has come such a long way, who now smiles more often and enjoys the little things. Daisy feels proud of her and every time the feeling takes over her she wants to laugh, because Kora is older, yet younger than she is and Daniel is always confusing the fact and she adores that out of everything he’s seen, that is what always gets him rattled up.

She makes him watch as many space films to prep him for it. He is unimpressed by Star Wars but claims ET a favorite.

Kora surprises Daisy by informing her baby sister she has gotten a pilot's license and the stamp of approval from May herself to be able to efficiently fly them on the Z3.

Daisy finds it funny that even if he had managed to welcome the 21st century life-style (sans actual style) with ease, it is atop the Z3 where Daniel feels most comfortable.

He claims it is because it was on a Zephyr where he first caught a glance of his future.

Daisy thinks he’s being sappy about it, and does not push because she is certain she will cry if her suspicions about his chosen wording are correct.

She’s the captain, for god’s sake. Her dork boyfriend should not make her want to cry.

It is different from normal missions. It is both smoother and yet far more exhilarating.

She appreciates the wonders of being able to sleep in between missions and assignments.

She especially appreciates the fact she convinced Daniel (or did he convince her, she’s still a little fuzzy on how that conversation went, she blames him) to share her bunk.

Because their life is chaotic at times and to be able to wake up next to him, well, it is something she got used to pretty quickly -or well, around the time of the 5th loop.

It is Coulson’s idea and she cries a little as she receives the invite.

Daniel simply kisses her head when he finds her, he whispers an ‘I love you’ which only makes her smile even wider and she adds her tears to the list of ‘odd things which should NOT be happening to me’ list.

Simmons wink is almost a confirmation, but she waits patiently for the email.

The first words in the email are unintelligible, which basically confirms the fact to her.

She ponders on what to tell him for three days, but then they get dropped into a mission. There are five of them out there beside her, her sister and Daniel included. She can’t let her guard down now. There is a team that needs her.

Everything turns out to be a misunderstanding in the end. But it doesn’t go by smoothly. The (insert alien name) race is stubborn and it takes a lot of Daisy’s energy to get them to talk.

Daniel will never let her forget it is one of his odd idioms which finally makes the aliens cooperate.

Still, they have earned a day off, and she orders Kora to put the Z3 on autopilot, as close to Earth as she can.

It is that order which makes Daniel know there is something up with her.

He patiently waits for her to tell him. Because he knows her, and he knows she needs to sort out her brain before asking for any kind of input -from anyone. But she always does, at least, she has always done so with him.

She tells him as they both stare at earth, reminiscent of that first trip they took together. Circumstances are entirely different.

He is scared, he has to admit, because there is nothing as scary in life as to be hit with the realization that you're going to be responsible for another human.

And she can’t help it, she teases him about it; because she needs to find humor in this, and because it is no secret that very few things manage to rile Agent Sousa up. It is one of the many reasons he works so well in the field -with her.

Besides his surprise, his reaction is very much like him, and Daisy thinks it a win for her when he doesn’t propose to her right away. Not because she would say no (she’s sure she would say yes), but because it means he truly is a wonderful man who can read her better than anyone and who gets her, all parts of her.

In the end, they agree it is best to take it a day at a time. She is still the captain and he is still her right hand and they are still pretty good at their jobs and they don’t want to stop.

In the end, Kora is the one who steps up, once she notices her sister throwing up almost at the end of the third month.

She volunteers to help in any way she can.

Their daughter is born in space, just like little Alya. Because Daisy truly never took time off until she literally couldn’t stand and because even if she couldn’t go out and explore, she was still the captain and she directed her team with an authority and a smoothness, which reminded Daniel of Agent Coulson, which he knew meant a lot more to her than to him.

True to her word, Kora steps up and helps keep Z3 floating as the couple settles into their new lives.

Daisy knows it is not ideal. But she wouldn’t trade her life for anything.

Daniel still finds himself waking up, even years after, with their daughter already running around the Z3, and can’t believe his life.

Honestly, if you’ve made it this far, my sincere apologies. But I was left with way too many feels and a thousand and one ideas in my head which I just had to get out.

#aos #dousy #daisy x sousa #daisy x daniel #timequake #sousy #otp: people like you #daisy johnson #daniel sousa

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0paperairplane0 · 3 years

Text

Pain

Summary: Loki’s struggling with his mental health and one day, Thor notices his brother’s scars.

Warnings: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts, mental illness, angst

Words: 2259

A/N: I was thinking one day that Loki’s obviously dealt with mental illness before and wanted to write a little bit about it idk. This is very angsty and does have self-harm so if that triggers you, don’t read. I’ve never written angst before so sorry if it’s a bit sloppy! I’m really sorry if you’ve ever had to go through anything like this and I really, really, really hope it gets better.

Speech = Bold

Thoughts = Bold + Italic

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It was hard, but he was used to it. For centuries, all he did was fake. Fake a laugh, fake a task, fake a smile. It was easy for him. It brought him comfort. The thought always made him laugh. Going through stress, anger, pain every day yet, pretending everything was okay and lying, brought him comfort. It was familiar, to lie and pretend, so it helped. Going through his day with perfect posture, everyone thinking he was proud and in love with himself. Often, he found himself saying “I, Loki of Asgard, am burdened with glorious purpose.” Most think he’s just narcissistic and full of himself but, the opposite. He tells himself he’s great because he knows it’s not true. He’s the monster parents tell their children about at night. He hated himself, but it was easier to let everyone believe he loved himself, and maybe one day convince himself of it as well.

This was just another day. He got out of bed, brushed his teeth, made his hair, and changed his clothes. He was ready to leave his room. He reached for the doorknob and walked out. He headed towards the kitchen where no one was to be found. It was predictable considering it was 4:45 am. He’s always been a person who enjoys mornings. They’re calm and quiet with no one awake. He also doesn’t sleep much. He’ll go to bed at 1:00 and wake up at 4:30. It was a schedule and it was enough sleep for him. Nightmares also didn’t help.

He grabbed the kettle and put it on the stove where he made some tea. He put it in a teacup and added some milk but no sugar. He put two fingers against the bottom of the teacup. It was hot and burned. He left his fingers there as he picked up the teacup and headed to the counter, still feeling the pain in his fingers. He sat down and took out a book with his magic and flipped to the page he left off on, occasionally sipping his tea.

He’d finished his drink in about 10 minutes but wasn’t hungry enough to eat anything. He got out of his seat, put the teacup away, and sat back down at the counter, continuing to read in the dark. After what he’d predicted to be about 40 minutes, he started losing interest in reading and sat up. He picked up the book and it disappeared in his hands as he put it away using his magic. He checked the clock, it was 5:20. His teammates would wake up in about an hour. He left to go to the training rooms.

Once he was there, he trained. After he was done with his fitness, he threw some knives and shot some arrows, working on his aim which was still perfect whether he was looking or not. He would fight with Thor later to work on his combat but, for now, he was done.

He headed to his room, walking past a few avengers on his way, giving them a nod. Everyone was awake by now. He undressed and hopped into the shower.

After he put on some clothes, he brushed his hair, then went to leave his room. He reached for his doorknob, but something stopped him. It was like he couldn’t move. He was stuck. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat as he began understanding what was happening. His hand started shaking. It was subtle but noticeable. He began feeling anger towards himself. Why is this happening if nothing has triggered it? He asked himself. It happened often. Sudden bursts when nothing was wrong. His breath became heavy and his whole body felt as if it would drop. He felt heavy like he was drowning. He told himself to breathe and went to his bathroom, trying to keep himself composed.

He went inside and splashed his face with some water. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the mirror, staring daggers at his eyes in the reflection. Why was he like this? He’s always been so… different. There was no reason for it. He left the bathroom and returned to his room. He put his face in his hands and began crumbling to the floor. He backed up against a wall and wanted to cry, but couldn’t. He never cried. Not because he was tough, but because he had no tears left to cry.

He ran his hand through his hair and looked down at his arm. It was covered with his sleeve but he knew what was underneath the leather. His mutilated wrists, the victims of centuries of hate, anger, pain, regret, confusion. He rolled up his sleeve slightly and stared. This was the side of him no one knew of. He’d gone two entire days of not hurting himself, but it was too much. He summoned a small dagger with his magic and just stared. He wanted to do it, but he shouldn’t. It’s not good for me he told himself. He lowered the dagger against his skin and slashed. Pain, but the physical kind. The bearable kind. He slashed again. And again. And again. And again. He watched as his blood rolled down his arm. He moved on to the other arm. I am a monster slash, I hurt people slash, I don’t deserve to live slash, I deserve nothing slash, slash, slash, slash. He stopped. He felt better. It was fine. He put down the dagger and stayed on the floor. He looked around his room and found a place where his eyes stayed. He stared at that spot of his room.

He kept staring, thinking. He didn’t hear the knock on his door. “Brother? May I come in? I have to speak to you of an important matter.” More knocking, but Loki heard nothing. “Brother? I’m coming in.” Thor opened the door and saw Loki, sitting on the floor. A dagger inches away from him and bleeding wounds all over his arms. “Loki?” Thor asked, fear in his voice. That, Loki heard. He looked at his brother and their eyes locked. “Hello, Thor.” Loki said. “What- Are you- Loki? What happened?” Thor asked, concerned as he walked into his brother’s room and closed the door behind him. Loki began laughing. Thor didn’t find any of this humorous.

“Brother, this is no laughing matter. What happened-”

“Do you truly not know what you’ve walked in on?” Loki asked, sarcasm in his voice. Thor didn’t reply and walked closer to his brother. He grabbed his brother’s wrists and Loki didn’t protest. The wounds were clearly fresh but that wasn’t what concerned him. Loki’s wrists had many scars. There was barely any space where there weren’t scars. Some cuts looked like they were maybe a few days old and others were merely scars that looked years old. Something in his mind clicked. “How long have you been doing this to yourself?” Thor said, his voice serious. Loki grabbed his arm back and smiled. “Centuries.” He replied. “Why?” Thor questioned. “Because it helps”, Loki replied, the smile fading from his lips. It was Thor’s turn to laugh. “Help? How could this possibly help, Loki?! You’re hurting yourself!” Thor’s voice was angry yet concerned. “You don’t understand-” “Then make me understand!” Thor cut his brother off and yelled.

“You really want to know?” Loki said, smiling sarcastically. “Yes! I want to know why my brother has been hurting himself! For centuries!!” Thor replied. “Very well”, Loki said, still smiling. He stood up and rolled down his sleeves.

“Think”, Loki said. “What?” Thor replied. “Were you or were you not there when I let go and fell into the void?” Loki asked Thor. “How does this have anything to with-” “Answer the question if you want to know.” Loki cut his brother off. Thor questioned his brother’s methods but listened. “Yes, I was there when you fell into the void.” Thor finally answered his brother’s question. “And why do you think I let go?” “Because you were angry? You found out of your true parentage.” Thor answered again. “Now tell me why you hurt yourself.” Thor demanded. “Fine.” Loki answered, with poison in his voice.

“I hate myself and always have.” Loki blurted out. “I- I was always different from everyone else but never knew why. You would enjoy yourself with friends while I would watch. I tried so hard to fit in with everyone else but it never worked. People have hated me everywhere I’ve ever gone. “He’s the dark prince! D- don’t go near him! He’ll bite your head off!” Everyone always loved you but they hated me. I was the little boy living in the shadow of his big brother. The little prince with no future. Father always preferred you over me and I never knew why! I wasn’t good enough no matter what I did. I was always a failure who could never do anything right! I thought there was something wrong with me and I guess I was right. I’m a monster. I hurt people everywhere I go. I’m a murderer. I’m just a burden to you and everyone who knows me!” Loki poured his feelings. His face was no longer holding a smile and tears were welling up in his eyes. “And to answer your question, I hurt myself because it helps. It’s easier to deal with physical pain than emotional pain. Also, if I don’t do this, I lash out at others, hurt others. It’s effective.” Tears were now running down both Loki and Thor’s faces.

Thor looked shocked. “Loki… I had no idea”, Thor said. The sarcastic smile on Loki’s face reappeared. “Of course not, you never notice anything.” Loki said. He wiped his tears and fixed his hair, checking over himself in the mirror. “Very well, I’ll be on my way then.” He left the room with his perfect posture and Thor did nothing to stop him, still struck by Loki’s words.

<><><><><><>

Loki spent all day worrying about what his brother saw. He was sitting in a chair in the library and reading, or at least he was trying to. He kept on re-reading the exact same paragraph over and over again. He couldn’t focus on the words. What if Thor were to confront me about it? Or tell someone? He was dreading what may happen.

After some time of re-reading the same paragraph, he got up and left the library in search of Thor. He had to be the one to bring up the topic, not Thor. He would not let himself be cornered.

He looked around the headquarters for some time, in search of his brother. Finally, he found him in a common room with Steve Rogers. “Brother?” Loki called and cleared his throat. “May I speak with you?” He asked with a cold voice. He saw as Steve looked at Thor with concerned eyes and his brother did not hesitate to look back at the soldier, equally as concerned. “Yes, of course”, Thor said, getting up. Loki worried that Rogers may know what Thor saw but discarded the thought, not wanting to be distracted. He had to appear unbothered.

They headed to a different room with Loki leading. He walked in and Thor followed. Loki closed the door and turned the lock. “Loki, if this is about what I saw....” Thor said with a look Loki hated. “I want you to forget what you saw.” Loki demanded quickly, keeping his voice steady and his face serious. “Loki, I cannot just forget that. It was-” Thor started. “Scarring?” Loki finished his brother’s sentence with a still face. He feared his brother may reject him after all he saw. Thor lowered his head in shame.

“You know what? Never mind, this was a bad idea.” Loki turned around and began walking to the door to leave. “Brother”, Thor began. “What”, Loki growled with poison in his voice, quickly turning around. He wanted this to be done with. “Please, please just make me this one promise.” Thor said softly, as if he may break his brother. Loki’s face looked calculating, studying Thor’s expression. “Please just promise me that you will not…. That you will not hurt yourself anymore.” Thor pleaded with desperation in his voice. “And why would I do that?” Loki asked, a sarcastic tone tracing his voice. “Please just”, Thor looked down into the palms of his hands. “If you won’t do that, at least promise me that you’ll come to me if you ever feel the need to hurt yourself.” Thor slowly looked up at Loki with a face full of emotions.

“I don’t want your pity.” Loki spat at Thor and looked away. “And even if I wanted to inform you every time I felt that way, I couldn’t. Sometimes it comes in uncontrollable bursts I cannot anticipate.” Loki said with tears in his eyes. “Then, tell me afterwards? I want to help you brother.” Thor looked at his brother with pleading eyes. Loki looked up at his brother. For a moment, he looked innocent and it made Thor’s heart ache. “Fine. I will try.” Loki said, looking away. “Thank you!” Thor said, crushing his brother into a hug which Loki hesitantly returned. “I love you”, Thor whispered, hesitantly. Loki laughed, pulling away. “That’s enough emotions for today. Goodbye brother.” Loki said, hesitantly patting Thor’s shoulder. He went to walk out of the room and stopped at the door. He turned around. “Thank you brother, truely”, Loki said quietly, giving Thor a small, genuine smile. He left the room with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

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That’s it! This is also my first time writing angst and I hope you enjoyed it!!

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Chapter 6: A Room with a View

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 3,359

Warnings: Swearing, slut shaming, death mention, crying

Author’s Note: So, I already answered this, but just in case anyone missed it: I update this series weekly and I am still editing the vast majority of chapters! Sorry if it’s coming out slower than expected!

Tags: @divinity-deos @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @thecaptainsgingersnap @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa @voidnarnia @anonymousonion23

Steve had no idea what he’d done wrong. Not a clue. But you were ignoring him. You sat farther away from him in English the past two days, and you’d been blowing off plans with him. You’d say that you had other plans, but he’d see you sat on the bleachers after school, watching the girls soccer practise or drawing in that book again. He still didn’t know what you were doing in that book and he was irritated by the fact that he could see you sat in your room some days, caught in a lie without knowing it, your nose caught in the pages in front of you, pencil in between your teeth, focused but unaware of an audience. Steve could see right into your room from his when your curtains were open and you often sat at your desk, working in your pads.

On the day that Mr. Lawrence announced the start for the final essay, Steve had had enough. It had been a week of this behaviour and he felt as though he deserved an answer. And he was sick of watching through the window. Tommy and Carol were busy every damn day chasing Billy Hargrove, Vicki had gone back after him too after their awful date, and Tina wasn’t his friend. Sure, he could bug Dustin, but that made him feel like such a loser. His only friends were a rag tag group of preteens and a weird girl who wouldn’t even talk to him! This was getting pathetic.

The bell rang before Steve could make his move and you were out the door before he could even open his mouth. Tina rolled her eyes as she passed him by, grabbing Tina’s arm to whisper loudly “God, how tragic.” making Vicki cackle loudly.

Steve booked it out the door, scanning the halls for you, but you’d already disappeared from sight. He spotted Samantha, but she was on the retreat. He chose not to chase her down, they’d never even had a conversation before and using her to try to get her to spill on her friend felt a bit shitty. So he decided to just take a walk, no harm in a walk, it was a nice day anyway, out by the field. He wandered out the gym doors by the car park. He shoved his hands into his blue workman’s jacket. The weather was still a bit too chilly to go without a coat, but the sunshine made it easier.

He spotted you and Samantha at the top of the bleachers. You had your hair up that day and your lavender bomber jacket draped around your shoulders. Carol had something similar, or maybe it was Tina, he couldn’t remember which one the pair blurred into one being in his mind.

Samantha caught Steve’s eye before you did. She leaned over to you with a smirk “Lover boy’s watching.” She whispered cheekily, pointing slyly at him.

You turned immediately. Steve was standing in the car park, a few smattering of folks on car hoods, eating packed lunches and watching the scene go down. He waved, taking a step towards you. You turned your attention away.

Samantha was baffled. A week ago, you were telling her all about the weird fun you were having with him, all smiles and laughter, and now you wouldn’t even look at him for more than a second. You wouldn’t admit it, but Samantha knew that he was something more than a friend to you. Nobody was this upset when someone cancelled plans.

Steve turned away without a word. He wanted to scream at you, his mind demanding to know what he had done wrong. He made a plan that afternoon, one he was certain might ruin everything for him.

As soon as the three o’clock bell rang, Steve made a mad dash for his car. He didn’t leave immediately; instead he waited to see an expected sight. Once he saw you huddled and headed for the bleachers, he was sure that the girl’s team was practising. Then he drove off towards home, parking in his own driveway. His mother was home, a shock to him, but he still headed upstairs. The next part was tricky. He’d time out that practise ended at four thirty, but that you usually left at four since the walk was so long. At four twenty, he headed across the street. As always, the yellow Volkswagen sat in the driveway. He’d rarely ever seen it leave the driveway, but it gave him hope that someone was inside the house. You couldn’t be living alone as a senior. He bounded up the front steps, knocking on the door twice. He was nervous, switching his weight from his toes to his heels in a rocking motion forward and back, forward and back.

An older man opened the door. He had to be in his eighties, with age spots speckling him around his eyes like a second pair of wide frames behind his tortoise shell glasses. He seemed suspicious of Steve, although that was probably because he was staring.

“Hello,” he stuck out his hand for the man to shake “I’m Steve Harrington, I’m a friend of Y/N.” the man didn’t take his hand, staying silent as he looked him over.

Steve pressed on “I was wondering if she was home, we were supposed to study together today and she said that she’d call when she got home but I haven’t heard from her.” He chuckled awkwardly.

From behind the old man, a woman’s voice called “Harold, who’s there?”

“One of Y/N’s friends, she home yet?” he called back, opening the door wider. Steve could see the pale yellow walls, sun stained from the large three panel window at the front of their house.

Steve watched as an older woman hobbled into the scene, back hunched and skin thin. She looked frail, her hair dyed to what Steve assumed was its original shade, her grey roots visible from the top of her head. She greeted Steve with a warm smile. Steve was quick to offer his hand to shake, which she took carefully. “Hi, Steve Harrington, it’s nice to meet you both.” He said quickly, smiling brightly at the pair.

“Well hello there, I’m Maude and this is Y/N’s grandfather Harold, it’s lovely to meet you.” She said sweetly. “Why don’t you come inside, Y/N should be home any minute.”

Maude hit Harold’s arm roughly and he let go of the door, letting Steve into the house. He quickly kicked off his shoes, noting the pair’s socked feet. He looked around the house. Every house on the street was one of three standard box deals, with specified details. His parents hadn’t paid for the window seat like your family had, but you didn’t have the open kitchen that his did; an extra yellow wall separated the space. He looked to the fireplace, an exact copy of his family’s before their renovation last august. He missed the grey brick they used to have. You had a large family portrait on the mantle. You were sat in the centre in your Sunday best, your grandparents flanking the outside, two other adults stood closest to you. Steve assumed they were your parents. You looked like your father.

“You have a lovely home,” he said, turning his attention to the pair who were watching him intently.

“Thank you.” Maude smiled “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Sure.” Steve wasn’t much for tea, but he was taught not to refuse something offered by his host. Maude hurried off, leaving him and grumpy old Harold alone.

“Y/N doesn’t bring boys around.” Harold announced when his wife was out of the room. Steve didn’t really know what to say to that, luckily he continued “So what’re you trying to do with my girl?”

“Study,” Steve said with a shrug. The man scoffed, but Steve pressed on. “She’s my partner for our English final, we’re supposed to be working on it today, it’s due soon.”

Harold nodded gruffly “Alright…” he took a seat on the couch, turning the volume back on. The Love Boat was on, a rerun of the episode with guest stars the Captain and Tennille, and Steve was certain that they’d both seen it before.

Maude came in with a tray, handing her husband a mug. It was hand painted, thick script reading ‘Happy Father’s Day’ on the front, the year 1974 written in smaller script underneath in blue paint. She handed him a plain white mug.

“Well, Steve, you’re free to go and wait for Y/N upstairs, her room is two doors to the right of the stairs, you can’t miss it.” She said, gesturing to the stairwell. Steve bid his thanks and headed up the wide carpeted stairwell.

Harold mumbled something to his wife that Steve couldn’t hear, only catching her response. “He’s young, he doesn’t want to sit with us old folks.” She laughed at her own joke and Steve smiled at their friendly banter. They reminded him of his aunt and uncle, they always joked in that sort of way, laughing at themselves before anyone else. It made him feel as if he were at home in the house; he was comforted by the casualness of existence.

Maude was right that the room was impossible to miss. The door was covered in childlike butterflies painted in purple puffy paint. When he opened the bedroom door, he was transported into a small, private art gallery. The room was covered wall to wall in fabric canvases, canvas boards, and paper sketches. Your desk was covered in paint splotches and doodles carved into the wood, there were glow in the dark stars and moons on the blades of your ceiling fan. You’d painted your ceiling into a buttery sunset. It was as if for the first time, Steve was seeing all of you. And you were absolutely incandescent.

His hands went to roam your shelves, filled with sketchbooks and art books and worn copies of the classics. Greedily, he grabbed the first black sketchbook he found its pages heavy and curled. A piece of masking tape on the cover read ‘Still Life, 1980’ in black Sharpie. He flipped over the cover. Every page was the same bowl of fruit, some plain sketches, some painted in acrylics or water colours, but the fruit changed in shape and structure with every flip, rotting more with each sketch until the image switched to a vase of sunflowers, a prim and proper version of the Van Gogh he’d seen a print of in his freshman year art class. He wondered if you’d been there, silently making your own master pieces. He wondered how many masterpieces you had hidden away in your big black book.

The door opened behind him before he could put the sketch book away. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” you snapped, bounding towards him. When your grandmother told you that your friend from school was upstairs waiting for you, you had a sinking feeling that you knew who it was. And seeing him rifling through your things made your blood boil.

Steve turned slowly, unsure what to say. You snatched the pad out of his hands “And who the fuck gave you permission to look at my stuff, you pervert!” You knew that he hadn’t done anything actually perverted, but you still felt violated.

“I can’t get you to talk to me, I figured coming here would at least make you see me.” Steve laughed a bit, unable to even process what was happening. In the back of his mind, he thought that this would be an effortlessly cool way to go about a solution. Like you’d see him in your room and think ‘wow…what an effort that was…’ Instead, you were furious.

“So, you thought that coming into my house without telling me, lying to my grandparents, and touching my stuff would make it better.” You raised an eyebrow, shoving your sketchbook onto the shelf.

“What was I supposed to do? You won’t answer my calls, you won’t talk to me, I can’t get you to look at me for more than a second and all I want to know is what I did wrong so I can fix it!” Steve cried, words tumbling out of his mouth. You both stared at each other for a moment, surprised by each other, your mouth hanging silently ajar.

You closed it fast, swallowing before speaking “You…you hurt my feelings.” You said softly, pushing past him to put distance between you, standing next to your desk and the window.

“How did I hurt your feelings?” Steve asked quietly, watching you carefully even as you stared defiantly out the window.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest “You cancelled our plans. For Vicki.”

“So?” Steve asked.

“So, I don’t cancel on you. I never cancel on you, especially not the day of. It hurt my feelings.” You explained, picking at a bit of lint on your sweater.

“Yeah, but I…” he tried to catch himself before he said something terrible, but you already knew what filled in the blank.

“What? You have more friends than me? Is that it?” you snapped. It was Steve’s turn to look away, but you pressed on. “You’re right, you do have more friends than me. But don’t act like I don’t have a social life without you. I do. Do you know how many games of Samantha’s I’ve skipped out on to help you study? How many practises she’s asked me to come and watch that I’ve said no to because I already had plans with you?”

“I don’t know…” Steve muttered. Embarrassment crept up his face. He felt like such a dick. In truth he had forgotten about your plans that day in the excitement of a date with Vicki. With hindsight in full effect he could see that he would’ve had twice as much fun with you eating greasy burgers then he did with Vicki driving around Hawkins.

“Well, it’s been a lot. And it’s not the fact that you went out with Vicki that upset me, you are free to date whoever you want. But can you please at least tell me if you’re cancelling a little sooner than mere minutes before?” you asked, your voice cracking on the end.

“Sure, yeah of course. I should’ve been doing that before.” Steve stumbled over his words to apologize.

“Okay.” You nodded “Now, why are you going through my shit?”

“I wanted to see more. This whole room is incredible.” Steve breathed, plopping down on your mattress.

“You think?” you asked quietly. In truth, you didn’t think that you were that good of an artist. You loved art, but you didn’t think you were exactly talented.

“It’s so cool!” you couldn’t help but laugh, or else you’d cry. Nobody ever talked about your art with such enthusiasm. Teachers only criticized mistakes and your mother and grandparents saw it as clutter. Samantha liked some stuff but she didn’t talk about it much. Even a simple compliment from Steve made you want to cry. You covered your mouth to avoid the tears.

Steve didn’t seem to notice, wandering the room to point out pieces he thought were interesting. He pointed to a canvas depicting the quarry. You’d camped out there one night in the summer; drawing until the sun fades out of the sky and then painting it out once you had it exactly right. “This one is just insane I mean it looks like it’s going to eat you whole, like it has teeth or something.” He exclaimed.

“You can have it.” You replied quickly.

Steve shook his head “No, I couldn’t I mean don’t you want it? For college apps or something?” he couldn’t take it, he’d feel too guilty.

You shrugged “I have enough stuff for at least three portfolios, you should have that one if you like it so much. It’ll make your room cooler.”

“Hey, my room is cool.” Steve pouted, making you laugh harder. He liked your laugh, it split your whole face open into a smile. And your smile looked as if it sat on a bed of clouds. He wanted to float along with it forever.

“Oh yeah, your pee wee t-ball participation trophy is real slick, it gets you all the chicks.” You drawling, bouncing on your mattress.

“Hey, you didn’t run when you saw it.” Steve shrugged, sitting down next to you.

“Eh, your baby sports escapades don’t frighten me. It adds character to know that you suck at something.” You replied. Steve thought briefly of the bat in his trunk and the weight of it mid-swing, connecting with a heavy skull. Better with a bat now then he was as an elementary schooler.

You both lay back on the mattress, staring up at the slowly turning fan. Steve turned to you “What’d you think of Vicki anyway?” he asked.

“Honestly?” Steve nodded “I think she’s a bitch.” Steve laughed loudly but you pressed on “She is! She’s so mean for no reason!”

“Yeah, she’s not cool. She spent our whole date bitching about people, saying a lot of shit about you.” Steve murmured.

“What’d you…” you didn’t know if you could ask how he responded. You bit your tongue before finishing the sentence.

Steve understood anyway “I told her the truth. That you’re a really cool chick and that she shouldn’t be such a bitch about people she doesn’t know.” He said simply, turning his attention back to the slowly moving stars.

You didn’t necessarily believe that he actually defended you. Still, you didn’t feel like arguing. Steve continued on in your silence. “So, do you live with your grandparents’ full time? Or do your parents just work?” he asked.

“Both,” you sighed softly “My mom’s not home very much so they take care of me. She’s a fashion photographer, travels all over the world for different magazines.”

“What about your dad?” Steve asked. He’d seen a younger man in the photo; he assumed that it was some kind of father figure.

“He died.” You muttered.

“Oh…” Steve didn’t know how to react to that. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize.

“She killed him.” You couldn’t help yourself from saying that. Anger still stewed into your bones whenever you thought about your parents.

“What?” Steve to fully look at you, flabbergasted.

“She worked him to death. She always wanted more and farther away from us. Trips to Europe, designer things, this stupid house. She killed him.” You wiped hard at your face, trying to keep the hot tears from streaming down your face. Steve didn’t say anything, he simply pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly into him and letting you cry. He patted your hair gently, trying to soothe you as best he could. He didn’t think he was very good at helping people in their pain. But you grabbed onto his middle and clung to him like a life raft.

“My parents aren’t that great either.” He muttered, unsure if he was helping at all. “They ignore me.”

“I-I’m sorry they do that…” you muttered, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes. Steve melted. He absolutely melted. He was filled with the sudden urge to kiss you, which surprised him. He didn’t follow through with the urge; he didn’t know how you’d take it.

“I’m sorry he’s not here for you…” he replied, petting your hair softly. He stayed with you like that for what felt like hours, letting you cling to him and ruin his shirt with tears. He didn’t care. He needed to be there for you. He promised himself that he wouldn’t hurt you again. That he’d be more careful and pay more attention. He couldn’t bear to see you in this much pain again. He knew that you weren’t crying because of him, but if he could keep you from feeling even an ounce of this sort of pain again, he would.

He cared about you too much to ever let you suffer alone again.

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astralsweetness · 4 years

Text

I can’t be honest (but neither can you) || Changkyun/Reader (m)

➣ I cannot believe this is my first contribution to Monsta X, this is really how I’m entering the writing side of this fandom OTL Also hello idk how to write short summaries?? I proof-read this at 4:30 AM so please tell me if I missed something lol. Fair warning I switch P.O.V.’s often in this and with absolutely no regard to any writing rules

➣ Changkyun/Reader | Angst[?] with a surprisingly happy ending that I didn’t mean to write | Showcases some bad coping mechanisms from both he and the reader | Mentioned Wonho/Reader, but it’s purely platonic in a sexual way | Smut warnings include: mentions of choking, pegging, fingering, mentions of a ruined sexual scene, sort of self-imposed edging if you squint, hair-pulling, facesitting

➣ It’s been almost a year since he called off the relationship and your name still tastes like a mixture between sugar and ash on his tongue when he says it, your picture is still saved in his camera roll, and he’s taken the plunge these last few months to reach out to you to be friends again. His hyungs tell him it’s a bad idea, and he tells them he knows, because he does, really, he swears he does. It’s just that his heart soars when he gets to talk to you and he can’t remember why he was ever scared of letting you in past that last wall he’d put up, and he’s going to your place and he hates himself because instead of “I love you” he says “please fuck me” and even now he can’t be honest to you about his feelings.

“I want you to fuck me.” He’s standing at your door, speaking in English with that deep voice of his, and you just blink blankly at him - he hadn’t called or texted to say he was coming over, and to be completely honest you hadn’t seen him in over a week. The silence is uncomfortable, but his eyes are intense, and he refuses to shift shyly under your blank stare.

“..well, come in I guess.” You invite him in with raised eyebrows - he goes easily, knowing your apartment like his own home. It’s been almost a year since you two broke up, but he hasn’t forgotten anything. That same stupid plant he hated was still on your table. He had no idea how it was still alive.

“So.. we aren’t together anymore, we haven’t hung out in a while, but you decided I’m the person you want to fuck you. Suddenly.” Your tone of voice conveys your lack of belief - this sort of feels like some very strange joke, but you have no idea who’d ever come up with one like this.

“You fuck Wonho-hyung all the time, and you aren’t dating him, so why can’t you fuck me?” His words are said in a rush, the first sign of nervousness, and you cross your arms and cock a hip. It’s your default power-pose, lets you feel like you’re in control when you have no idea what’s going on.

‘Is that really all it is?’ you want to ask, but you stay silent. He doesn’t seem aware that when you’re with Hoseok it’s more for the other man’s emotional well-being than it was just to get laid. Sometimes people needed to be broken apart and pieced back together lovingly just to feel okay. For Hoseok, you were a friend he trusted enough to let break him and then take care of the pieces that remained shattered on the floor.

“If you tell me why then maybe.”

“I’m not doing shit for a maybe.” He fires back instantly, gaze narrowing. His shoulders have tensed and he’s widened his stance, an unconscious reaction to the way your own body language had changed. Whether he actually felt it or not, at a subconscious level he believed he was being threatened.

You step forward and snag him by the forearm - the fight goes out of him instantly, replaced by pure innocent confusion as you lead him to your bed. He notices dully that you’ve redecorated your bedroom - though it makes sense considering he was the one who had helped you liven it up before.

“Sit - and try to relax. All the muscles in your shoulders are tensing up.” Your words have the opposite affect you wanted them to have - he tenses more, seemingly thrown off by your care, your notice of his minute actions.

You watch the way his gaze drifts over your room – it catches and lingers on a group picture of you and the rest of his group, tucked safely into the frame of your vanity mirror.

It’s a nice picture, though you really don’t remember taking it. You’re fairly certain everyone was drunk though, since you’ve got your arm thrown around Minhyuk’s shoulders in it, pressing your cheek against his.

It’s cute, even if looking at it is bittersweet. You can see the question on his face, the ‘why did you keep this?’.

“It’s not like I stopped being friends with them just because we broke up.” You feel defensive over your choice, face heating – you weren’t even near him in the picture, on completely opposite sides in it. He just murmurs a soft “oh” that sounds dejected, and you desperately don’t want to think about it.

“Anyway –“ You’re desperate to move on at this point, and he seems to feel the same because his attention snaps back to you. “You’re not really in a position here to argue and make demands, but fine -“ It was just sex, right? For you, anyway. “I can’t literally right now, I have a class in 30 minutes, but if you tell me why then we can negotiate.” You feel like some sort of fucking dealer.

He seems vaguely surprised you’ve agreed so easily, but he works his jaw and tries to figure out how to explain his reasoning to you - whatever it may be. You let him think and go in search of your computer bag. Online classes were a pain, especially those that required attendance in the form of a webcam. The bag has been thrown into a corner of your room, and you sigh and bend down to begin your annoying search.

“Well, we’re not together anymore, so..” You crane your neck to look at him, even as you continue to rummage through your backpack for your computer cord. Damn thing was in there somewhere, you knew. “I don’t have to worry about what you think of me anymore?”

He finishes his statement with an accidental upwards inflection that turns it into a question, and your hands pause before you turn back around and continue searching, mulling over your word choice carefully. ‘You never had to worry’ sits on your tongue, something that is desperate to be said, but you swallow it back down. He wouldn’t believe you and it’d cool the current mood.

“I see.” You finally settle on, standing and popping your vertebrae back into place as your prize - the fucking charging cord - dangles from your hands. Your two words could convey many meanings, and you can see from your peripheral that his brow has furrowed. It’s not the answer he was expecting, though you think he probably didn’t know what he’d been expecting in the first place. “Then - what is it you want?”

“For you to fuck me.” He answers again, and then swallows as he notices your blank stare has returned.

“I know that, you said that. I meant what specifically are you looking to get out of this?”

“I want it to hurt.” His words make your breath catch in your throat, emotions swinging between vaguely turned on and worried. Sure, he’d had some masochistic tendencies in bed before, but - “I mean - I don’t – not physically -“ He’s switched to Korean in the wake of your silence, a comfort language, and you wonder if he even realizes he’s done it.

“Okay.” You respond simply in Korean back and he stops his rambling, just blinks at you. You see the tension finally start to drain out of his shoulders and switch back to English purely for your own sake, because it was easier, definitely not because you wanted to be able to hear his voice speaking your native language. “So long as you promise to use safewords, I won’t ask. I’m not your therapist and I’m not -“

“My girlfriend.” He finishes your sentence quietly, back to English as well, and your mouth goes dry.

“And I’m not here to judge you.” You remedy - you weren’t going to mention anything about your past relationship, and he looks away quickly at that realization. “You mentioned Hoseok -“ His hand twitches at his side when you call his hyung by his real name, but you mercifully don’t call him on this. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you’ve gone this long purely on the denial that he regrets breaking up with you, and it’s too late to stop that now. “- so I’m going to treat this situation exactly like that.”

“Okay?” Changkyun has no idea what that means, his fingers curling into your bedspread. You check the time - 20 minutes until class.

“I’m your friend, and I want to help you. This doesn’t change anything between us, this doesn’t add some extra dynamic, some extra layer.” Your voice has gone business mode and he’s stiffened his back at it, an ingrained response from being in the music industry for so long. “I’m not doing this just because I want sex - if you are, that’s fine, but I’m just doing this to help you out. Is that clear?” He nods once, eyes wide. You think he’s cute. You’ve always thought he was cute, and it reminds you of how cute turned into smitten and smitten turned into perfection and perfection turned into love and love - well, he ended love. “Changkyun - do you promise this is just about sex or release of some kind and nothing else?”

Your tone had softened, and he’d been let out of whatever thrall your no-nonsense voice had put him into. The question hangs in the air heavily, dripping of a nectar so sweet it’s sickening.

“Yes. I promise.” His voice is hoarse, cracking and quiet - and you think he’s lying.

But you’ve held on to your denial for so long. He had said before that the spark was just gone - and what were you supposed to say to that? It wasn’t his fault; people fell out of love all the time. You could barely believe he’d ever been interested in you from the beginning and you refused to believe you were worth falling in love with for a second time. The fact that you had managed to remain friends is more than you could have ever hoped for.

“Okay.” You repeat his assurance, more for your own benefit than his. The room is quiet, and thunder rolls in the distance. Fuck - a storm meant spotty WiFi for your class.

You check the time again - 15 minutes.

“We can use the stoplight system -“ His gaze has blanked so you take the time to roughly translate it into Korean, explaining until his brow smooths out, and then you’re back to English. “Aside from that, though, I need to know what you’re interested in, what you want to happen or don’t want to happen. You can hang out here if you want during my class, or leave, I don’t care - but take the time to think over what it is you want in this session.” Your words are too clinical, you know this, but you can’t keep yourself from doing it that way. You know most of the things he’s into and not into, but if you don’t take this route then it all feels too intimate. Besides, he’d always kept a very careful hold of how much control he’d let go around you before, never wanting to slip too far into subspace, always wanting to seem in command, even when subbing for you. You wonder if that’s changed. You certainly don’t remember him ever blatantly asking outright to have something done to him before.

Memories flash across your mind eye, his back covered in your scratch marks, the way he moaned brokenly when you pulled on his hair, the way he came when you pressed your fingers to his throat. But he never asked for any of it - you had to ask if it was okay to do to him, and he always brushed off any of your attempts of aftercare.

You swallow again, feeling vaguely sick. Things had been broken in your relationship long before he called it off, but neither one of you wanted to admit it. Your heart hurts for multiple reasons, but when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye you know the biggest one: ‘I hope I didn’t hurt him by not talking about it’.

But he didn’t talk about it either. Did he care about whether it hurt you?

“Is that okay?” He’s been talking to you, and you startle out of your thoughts - a half-formed little smirk dances at the corners of his lips, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. He knows you well enough to know when you’ve been drifting. “I said, I’ll stay here if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, it’s fine - sorry, was just.. thinking.” It doesn’t really surprise you that he’s decided to stay - he’s confident to a fault, it’s true, but there’s a slash of shyness that strikes through his character, and you know that if he left he might not be able to come back. The thunder rumbles in agreement.

You half-watch him as you set up your computer on the coffee table – he’s looking around your apartment with thinly veiled curiosity, though you don’t really blame him. It didn’t really look anything like when you two had been together, and yet.. you felt it still had his subtle touch all over it. You wondered if he noticed that.

The class is boring, as it usually is – you’re watching the screen but your mind is far away, listening to your admittedly enthusiastic professor talk about the hyoid bone and articulations while your focus is on Changkyun. He lingers around you with a nervous type of energy, clearly not feeling allowed to roam around your apartment (it’d be kind of weird if he had, you admit) but also not feeling comfortable enough to sit on the couch next to you, even if he would have been off camera.

It’s almost like it was before, and you half expect him to sit down next to you anyway and throw his arm around your shoulder, always just off-screen, sitting next to you during your classes while he amused himself with his phone, just so he could be near you.

You’re just about to be able to feel the phantom warmth from the memory of his arm around you before he coughs and you startle, eyes snapping to him – he looks back wide-eyed, not understanding your surprise but murmuring a quiet apology anyway.

God you were so fucked.

.｡..｡.

“So?” The instant your class had ended you’d snapped the computer lid shut – you hadn’t retained a single thing said, what a complete waste. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d skipped and focused on Changkyun in the end after all. “Did you decide on what you wanted?”

You’re so flippant with your question that he feels like he’s being asked about what it is he wants to eat instead of how he wants to have sex – the entire hour of your class he’d been nervous, and those nerves had by now tightened into a very tight ball at the base of his spine that periodically sent white-hot flames licking along his muscles.

“I –“ His mouth is so fucking dry and he hates how small he suddenly feels – he’d never felt like this around you before, but usually it had always been you asking if you could do something to him, hadn’t it? “I said it earlier. I want you to fuck me.”

He watches your reaction with pin-point precision – the small widening of your eyes, the way your gaze darts to the side like it always did when you were thinking something over – it wasn’t like you hadn’t ever fucked him before, but he’d never asked you to do so, and you clearly hadn’t expected him to come out with something like that so easily.

Why the hell could he say something like that and not something as simple as ‘I love you’, or even ‘I miss you’?

“Okay.” You’ve wrested your thoughts back under control – it wasn’t fair of him to say something like that, looking so utterly and effortlessly attractive. “As long as there’s no kissing I’ll fuck you any way you like, Changkyun.” You were over him and he was over you and this was just sex.

If you said it enough you’d start to believe it, right?

Changkyun just nods at your terms, looking a bit despondent – you can’t help the strong surge within you that says to fix it, fix whatever upset him, but you have a feeling you knew already. He’d always been a bit fixated on kissing you, but you knew if you let him this time then it’d all be over.

“I don’t remember you ever falling this far into the ‘submissive’ side of things, Changkyun.” You’re desperate to regain the upper-hand, and he flushes a bright red at your comment, grumbling out a weak “shut up” that has you smiling.

“Have you been experimenting?” You’re still teasing him but he bristles at the insinuation that he would have been with anyone after you – you had no reason to think he hadn’t been but the mere thought of being with anyone other than you makes him ache deep in his chest, in his soul.

“No.” He tries to keep his voice calm, but it wavers still and he digs his fingernails into the soft leather of his belt, pausing. “I haven’t been with anyone since –“

He can’t say it, but you understand regardless – he doesn’t like how surprised you look, ducks his head and lets his hair obscure his view of you as he refocuses on undressing. It’s not that you’d been wrong to be surprised with his decision for today, either – before you, he’d never really definitively considered himself particularly dominant or submissive, happy with having the choice to be either at the drop of a hat. That changed with you though – you had been so uncompromising with your power, beautiful and self-assured, and he knew without a doubt that if you so much as even hinted at it he would be on his knees for you every single time.

Not that he had ever told you that, of course. He’d never told you anything he really wanted to. Even now, with you looking at him softly, trying to see if you’d crossed a line with your little teasing jabs, the words ‘I’m happy being this for you’ get stuck in his throat and all he can do is tug his shirt over his head wordlessly, fingernails clicking nervously at his belt as he undoes it. You pretend not to notice the way your heartrate accelerates as he reveals his body bit by bit to you, slender waist but powerful figure, beautiful skin, beautiful body.

“Well, then – lie down.” You gesture to your bed and he swallows down the stupid fucking butterflies he gets at the gesture – he’d been on your bed before, he’d been in this position before, there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about.

And still, despite his nerves, a pleasurable chill runs down his spine when he hears the cap of the lube being clicked open, and he forces himself to exhale as he shifts and tries to get comfortable on a comforter he no longer recognized, in a room that had no trace of him in it anymore.

You look at him with a level gaze, always so calm, and he ignores the erratic beating of his heart and nods his assent for you to begin, immediately shifting his gaze to your ceiling.

Why the fuck was he so goddamn nervous?

(He tries to forget the way he instantly whimpers when he feels your finger, slick with lube, probing at his rim, tries to forget the way he gets hard in under a minute from your heavy gaze and one finger alone, and god he aches for more, aches for anything you’re willing to give him.)

“You’re taking this awfully well.” The teasing comes out unbidden, spilling past your lips before you can even think about the words – but it’s true, for someone who had claimed to not have been with anyone since you he was taking your fingers incredibly well.

“My own hands – fuck – exist..” His snarky response turns into a shaky moan halfway through when you decide to carefully – but quickly – add a third finger. There’s something erotic (and interesting) to you about that, thinking over the fact that Changkyun had been finger-fucking himself ever since you two broke up.

“You look good like this.” It’s an attempt to make up for the previous teasing but all it does is cause him to groan and throw a forearm over his eyes, legs spreading wider when you hit that spot deep inside.

“Fuck, jesus – fuck..” It’s a broken sob instead of an actual sentence (though he manages to stick with English), a familiar feeling already building deep in his gut. He’s not sure if it’s because it’s been so long since he’d been fingered by someone else or if it’s because it’s you doing it, complimenting him while doing so, or if it’s a combination of everything, but his back arches against his will and he knows he is seconds away from coming undone already.

“Stop – stop, oh my god –“ At his desperate plea you stop moving completely and he wants to sob as the pleasurable feeling slowly ebbs away, an almost painful drag as it settles back into a dull burn. He’s gasping, tiny whimpering sounds as he sucks breath back into his lungs, chest heaving – his eyes are wide, fingers curling into your comforter. He looks frantic, frightened almost, and even if it wasn’t your responsibility you knew you’d be desperate to fix it.

“Changkyun, ar –“

“I’m fine.” He bites it out angrily, doing his absolute best to look like he had been anything but moments away from an orgasm five minutes into.. whatever this was. He’s shutting you out again, before anything even begins, and it fills you with such an irrational anger that you have to suck in a breath of your own to keep from lashing out, taking gentle care to extract your fingers even as your blood boils.

“Stop fucking lying to me.” You can’t keep the ice from your words, even if you manage to control the volume and pitch – his dark eyes snap from the ceiling to you in surprise. There’s a panicked feeling bubbling up in his chest, because he really doesn’t know if he can handle you calling him on his true feelings for you right now, doesn’t want to have to admit he still loves you while he’s naked and so vulnerable.

“I’m not –“

“Stop it.” His mouth shuts with an audible click of his teeth, so sudden is your cut-in. Your brow has smoothed out, no longer angry, instead immensely sad, and he’s not sure this is any better. “You said you wanted to do this because you didn’t have to worry about my opinion. So why are you still doing it?”

He can’t breathe, and the lube is drying sticky on your fingers, and for a moment neither of you are aware of the position you’re in, the way the thunder has become your constant background music – he’s looking at you unblinkingly and you’re staring back, and it’s too intimate, too much, but neither of you look away.

“Please stop.” He speaks and it’s barely a whisper, the sound of someone’s heart breaking louder than his voice. You don’t know what to say but open your mouth anyway.

Lightning flickers outside your bedroom window and then your apartment is shaking from the resounding thunder, the power flickering and then plunging the two of you into darkness. Suddenly you can breathe again, and you’re quickly trying to slide out from in between his legs because he said ‘stop’ and he was fully coherent even if he hadn’t said ‘red’, because he said ‘stop’ and you have only ever wanted him comfortable.

“Wait –“ He is frantic, grabs your forearm with frigid fingers as he leans half off your bed to catch you from retreating too far. It’s hard to see him but you get flashes from the light outside your window, electricity reflecting off his dark eyes in starbursts.

“You said to stop.” Your voice is broken and you feel so powerless, sick inside because while you rarely manage to ruin a scene it still tears you up inside each time, and Changkyun wouldn’t let you try to fix it with aftercare and you don’t know what to do anymore.

“I meant –“ Stop talking, stop laying me bare and open, just fuck me and make me forget everything, stop being you so I can stop loving you. “I just want to be ruined.” He says instead, and his voice is so low but so weak that you barely recognize it.

“I can’t do that if you don’t let me.” Your clean fingers curl around his and gently pry them from your arm – but then you keep holding them, and you want to let go but you can’t remember how to tell your body to do so. “Will you let me, Changkyun?”

The air is still and silent aside from the rain slashing angrily at your windows – there is no thunder, your own heartbeat loud enough (or maybe it was his, you didn’t know anymore).

“I want to.” He answers instead, voice quiet but a bit stronger than before, and your eyes have adjusted so you can see the features of his face vaguely now, follow the line of his brow to his cheek to his lips, and you’re leaning in and you hate yourself because you had promised this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.

“Let me wreck you then, baby.” And oh that nickname was a mistake but you’d said it anyway, a ghost of a whisper against his lips, a proposition and a plea all in one. He moves forward the last centimeter and connects your lips as an answer, a sound that is almost one of pure relief being ripped from his throat.

It’s like he’s been waiting years for this moment, doesn’t even fight as you grip his jaw lightly and angle him into a better position so you can scope out the inside of his mouth with your tongue, relearning things you had known long ago but had thought were forgotten.

There’s a flighty feeling in his chest, one of nervousness and expectation – he doesn’t want to give you control so easily, he doesn’t want to be opened and laid bare in front of you, he doesn’t want you to see something you dislike in him – but more than anything he wants you to touch him and keep kissing him and god he fucking misses you, has missed this. He’d asked you to ruin him, you’d asked to wreck him, but he knew he was already both ruined and wrecked just from being near you again, from having your lips on his own.

You try to slide your hands back down his body but he stops you, continues to kiss you as his fingers curl around your own, and the act is so intimate it almost feels wrong.

“Just – hurry up, I’m ready enough.” He manages to say scattered between four different kisses, never apart from your lips for more than a few seconds. You hate yourself for not even trying to stop him, leaning into them each time.

“You can stretch yourself some more while I get ready.” You have to pull away from him completely to say this, and he follows you like you’ve got some magnetic pull on him before you’re off of the bed and the connection is broken.

Even with your eyes adjusted it’s hard to properly get the harness on, fingers fumbling with the straps but managing in the end. You can hear him breathing harsh, anticipating – you can tell from the sounds alone that he hadn’t taken your advice, but you’re not surprised. Always your little pain slut, even if he had never wanted to admit it.

When you approach him again his eyes are wide, brow furrowing as he notices you’re still fully clothed – he keeps his mouth shut tight though, gaze darting in the dark. The storm still rages on outside but neither of you even notice it anymore.

Your fingers on the inside of his thigh startle him – he jumps, trying to close his legs, but you force them back open again. Something about that simple action makes a moan trickle into his throat, but he swallows it back down stubbornly.

He can’t conceal the next sound he makes when you press the blunt tip of the strap-on to his opening, though, a rasping whine as you push in slowly, so fucking slowly. Even with all the lube he knew you’d slathered over the toy it still takes a bit of work to get it into him, and every slight stretch makes him grit his teeth in a masochistic type of pleasure, feeling so full by the end that it makes him so painfully hard his head spins. It hadn’t taken long to get him worked back up, but he’s not really thinking about that right now.

All he knows is that he wants to be close to you, wants to feel good, wants to make you happy – he wants so much that he doesn’t think he can even begin to put any of it into words. It always ends up at ‘I love you’ and he already knew that was a phrase that lodged in his throat like knives.

“Please.” This he can say – you don’t know what he’s begging for but he’s begging all the same, the word ‘please’ becoming a chant that slowly shifts back into his native tongue when teeth mark his throat, fingertips pressing insistently into his hips as you fuck him hard and rough. He hopes, distantly, that it bruises. He wants to be able to remember this for as long as possible.

If he was present enough in the moment he might have been embarrassed by the sounds he was making – his naturally deep voice has transformed completely into high breathy whines, all trace of his ‘savage rapper’ persona gone when you bite his lip hard enough it throbs before you’re flipping him, pushing his shoulders down into the bed with one hand.

The feeling of your palm, small but blindingly warm on his back, makes him weak enough that his thoughts stutter, head a chaotic mess of fractured thoughts and sensations. His eyes are open but unfocused – it’s dark in the room anyway, but he’s unaware of it, cognizant only of your presence and his, that warm fuzzy feeling in his chest competing with the white-hot fire you were stoking lower in his pelvis.

You want to cry at how beautiful and perfect he is for you, the way he arches his back instinctively, presents himself as your own personal plaything – but he wasn’t yours, you had to remember that, remind yourself over and over that this was just sex. (If you repeated it enough it started to stop sounding like real words, and that was equally as dangerous as forgetting them in the first place.)

The head of the strap-on teases his entrance and he groans, clenching his fists into your pillow – you’d taken it out when you’d flipped him and he was fighting against every fucking urge and want and need his body was screaming at him to just take the plunge and force himself backwards. (But another part of his brain is telling him to wait, to make you happy, to draw this out as long as fucking possible because he has no idea if he’ll ever get to experience it again.)

“Can you tell me what you want?” Your voice is soft as silk, quiet, and a fluttery feeling rises up in his stomach at the sound, at how you’ve modified an order to be a request. He doesn’t know how he feels at the realization that you were taking it ‘easier’ on him verbally, that you had at some point come to understand he was having trouble letting go completely.

“I –“ He tries, he really fucking does, but like always the words get stuck in his throat. He just can’t seem to bring himself to admit what he really wants out loud and it is destroying him. One of your hands smooths down his side, lingering at his hip, and he feels like you’ve left behind a line of pure fire on his skin, almost burning away the shame and hatred he feels at himself for his fucking inability to be vulnerable, his cowardice.

“Just fuck me.” He says instead, defeat coating his words – and he can feel you hesitating, because it was obvious he’d meant to say something else and hadn’t.

He opens his mouth to say something, though he has no idea what, at the same instant you decide to slide the strap-on back into him. Whatever he’d been planning to do is gone from his mind instantly, his world reduced to just the dull burn, the frustratingly slow drag against his innermost walls, the way you manage to somehow brush up against the spot that has him trembling and dropping to his forearms. He curses in a strange mixture of Korean and English and you laugh softly at the sound, even as you slide out and thrust back into him hard enough that he jolts forward.

He feels, in a sense, like he is being broken in all the best ways – all he can focus on is you, all he can feel is the way you’re fucking him, grabbing at his hips. His breath is caught in his throat and he just knows he is going to ache later, bone-deep and satisfying.

But it’s not enough, never enough – you’re not asking to do more to him like you had in the past and he can’t manage to tell you what he desires most (though, at this point, he’s not totally sure he could say anything coherent anyway). He reaches back with one hand, groping – your fingers wrap around his and he drags them up to his hair, a wordless plea. He hopes you understand what he’s asking for.

A broken moan is ripped from his throat when you fist your hand in dark strands and pull backward, forcing him into an arch – his mind has blanked into varying shades of white, electricity on his skin and molten lava running through his veins, your heat against his back overwhelming.

You know it’s a bad idea before you do it, but you lean down and press you lips to his shoulder anyway, teeth scraping over feverish skin – the hoarse whine he gives at the feeling makes wetness pool between your legs, uncomfortable and wrong because this was just sex, this was just supposed to be for him.

The urge to mark him up is so strong it’s almost distracting – your hips falter in the bruising pace you’d set as your mind drifts, Changkyun groaning at the sudden shift in speed.

“Let me –“ He’s gasping, feels like he’s been running a fucking marathon or drowning (and oh, he has, drowning in you, in his expansive and terrifying feelings for you) but he knows your hips have to be sore by now and to be completely honest he is just downright greedy, wanting to feel you deep inside, wanting to –

He just wants so much. He reaches back to press at you gently and you let him move you instantly, trying to figure out what had bothered him – as soon as you realize he just wants a change in position you’re grabbing at his hips again, tugging him over your legs. His cock drags against the fabric of your shorts and he nearly sucks in a breath, trying to focus on lining himself up instead of the way it throbbed (or the way you were looking at him, hair splayed out on the pillow and yet so in command still).

He thinks he should feel more in control like this, on top of you, hands braced on your shoulders – but he doesn’t, not at all, and he knows instantly that he isn’t when you snap your hips up to meet his and he falls onto you, moan vibrating against the skin of your neck. He can feel your fingers in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, can feel the infuriatingly teasing way his cock is rubbing up against your fucking shirt you never took off. It’s gone untouched for so long that it’s absolutely aching by now and he thinks he might actually be able to orgasm like this – but he doesn’t want to, not yet, even with how border-line painful its become. He doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want to have to go back to a world without you in it.

His hips stutter on top of yours when you tug on his hair again, grinding hard against the strap-on, and you lift his face high enough you can press your lips to his, all hot breath and panted moans. He tastes of honey and heartbreak and you want nothing more than to make him cum and fall apart, trembling, on top of you.

“Am I ruining you properly, baby?” Your voice is dark red and sinful, and he trembles at the sound and tries to seek out your lips again, a whine lodged in his throat when you tighten your grip on his hair and keep him in place, rolling your hips languidly up to meet his frantic movements. “Tell me.”

“Fuck..” He responds instead, deep and rough in his chest – it cracks into a high moan when you punish him with a harsh upwards thrust, fingers curling into your shoulders. Your soft laugh, amused or delighted he’s not sure, makes a feeling like electric butterflies break out across his skin. If you had let go of his hair he’d have buried his face into your neck again to hide his expression – but you haven’t, and he knows you can see everything, every part of him, every expression he makes.

He thinks he must look stupid, embarrassing – but all you see is pure beauty. His brow has furrowed and sweat drips down to his collarbones, bruised lips parted slightly, glistening from where you’d kissed him earlier. Hazy eyes try to look anywhere but your face failingly, allowing you to see the foggy galaxy residing in their darkness. You’re not sure if what you’re seeing is his pupil or iris, but you find it gorgeous all the same, intoxicating.

“I’m going to make you cum, Kyunnie.” He shakes at your dangerous words, your knife-sharp gaze. You’re aware he never responded to your last question. “You’ll fall apart up there, ruined, just like you asked to be.”

Your words wrap around him, coiling tightly like chains – he feels caught, trapped, and he wants nothing more than for you to make good on your word, even if it sends a sharp trill of fear through his stomach.

The grip on his hair lets go suddenly and he sags forward, as if your pull on him had been all that was keeping him upright. He’s left a mess of pre-cum on your shirt, flushes a dark red when you drag your fingers through it thoughtfully.

“Messy boy..” You muse, heat spreading through you when you see the way his cock jerks at those two simple words, so red and aching, so fucking beautiful and desperate.

Fuck, you wanted so badly for him to be yours.

One of his hands flies to your wrist when you finally wrap your fingers around him – more of his weight is on you now but you can’t find it in yourself to mind, not with the way he’s breathing hot and wet against your neck, the way he doesn’t stop you when you move your hand, just clings to your arm desperately like he’s not totally sure he wants to be touched yet.

A choked sound leaves his mouth, lips bitten bloody, and you turn your head so you can breathe against his ear, let him press his face further into your neck. “Such a little whore..” You murmur, and he sobs open-mouthed against your skin and thrusts weakly into your fingers and then back onto the strap-on, unsure of which feeling he wanted more of. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

A part of him feels like he’s dying, unsure if he was really okay with being so vulnerable with you – but another part of him, the larger part, feels like he is fucking soaring, like this is all he had ever wanted and more. There are flames licking at his body, coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach, and he’s not sure how much longer he can last like this.

“You can fall, Changkyun.” Your voice is in his ear, like the sound of silk sliding over skin, fingernails tracing lightly along the back of his neck. He hates the way he reacts so viscerally to it, climax surging forward at the sound, at the way your fingers slide wetly over the head of his cock pinned in between the two of you. “It’ll be okay, you can fall to pieces. I’ll catch you.”

He orgasms with a wail that makes him flush a dark red, and he would have been mortified at the sound if every nerve ending in his body wasn’t currently sparking, his muscles spasming as he tries to keep thrusting into your fist even as the lightning bolt sensations turn from overwhelming to painful. He doesn’t even realize tears have slipped from his eyes until he feels your lips kissing them away, and he is hit with such a wave of emotion that he can’t breathe all over again (and it is just pure emotion, he couldn’t identify a single one of them if he tried).

After you slowly pulled out and settle him on the blankets he watches, distractedly, as you slide the straps down over your hips, leaving it on the floor to be dealt with later. Impulsively he reaches out to catch the edge of your shorts when you try to head to the bathroom, tongue sliding over chapped lips when you turn that powerful, beautiful gaze of yours on him. One of your eyebrows has raised, appraising him as he slowly tugs you back to the bed until you’re resting on your knees next to his waist. Sweat is drying sticky on his skin and he’s trying not to feel like he’d done something wrong, reacted in some undesirable way that you’d remember and relate to him for the rest of your life - but above all that, he wants to taste you. It’s the only consistent thought running through his mind, more prevalent than the lingering unease at having bared so much of himself to you.

“Please.” Again, it’s all he can say, eyes so dark and wide, pleading – his fingertips rest lightly on your hip, over the waistband of your shorts, lips parted ever so slightly. It’s so obvious what he’s asking for, and you want to say no. You’re pretty sure you need to say no. “Babe –“

You surge forward to cut him off mid-sentence with a brutal kiss and he gasps – you didn’t want to hear that, and you can tell from the way he’s frozen that he hadn’t meant to say it, even as his body returns the kiss on pure muscle memory alone. This entire experience had been a mess, a mistake, and yet –

“Okay.” It’s more a breath against his mouth than a word, but the way he smiles at your soft agreeance makes your heart hurt. You were in so deep, had fallen so far – how foolish of you to think you had been over him. How fucking stupid you’d been.

He wastes no time, pulling your shorts and underwear down like he’d done it hundreds of times before – because he had, you note dully – fingers wrapping around your thighs. When you sink down onto his face a tension drains out of his body that neither of you had even noticed was still lingering.

All he can smell is you, all he can taste is you – you surround him and this is all he’s ever fucking wanted, to be possessed by you, to be as close to you as possible. He’s not even totally sure what he’s doing aside from the fact that he’s putting his absolute all into it – he’s just trying to taste every inch of you he can, tongue delving as deep as possible before switching to suck on your clit. There’s no rhyme or reason to his method and it has you letting out a quiet sigh that borders on a gasp. He tries to memorize the sound instantly – any sound he could get out of you was a treasure in itself, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to hear them again after this.

There is no particular build-up to your orgasm – it’s at first lingering briefly bone-deep and then suddenly it is upon you in streaks of lightning, hips grinding against his face but mouth stubbornly shut. You can’t let this be any more intimate than it already was. (And yet you instinctively reach down and lace your fingers with his, and his thumb smooths across the back of your hand as he continues to mouth at your cunt, drink up your fluids. You are so utterly and completely stupid, your heart in your throat.)

There is a moment you want to carve out afterwards, a small bubble in time where the two of you could just bask in the afterglow and pretend like nothing had changed from a year ago – but you can’t let yourself do that, pushing yourself up off the bed even as every fiber of you begs to remain beside him for a moment longer. His fingers remain holding yours a moment too long before dropping to your bedspread, defeated.

Your heart suddenly felt like it was three sizes too big for your body, filled to the brim with love for a man you knew you’d have no second chance with, and you clench your teeth tightly to keep it from oozing out between your teeth like bittersweet sugar.

He’s still panting when you return with a damp cloth, reaches for it as if he really expects you to make him clean himself off. You scoff and catch his hand with your own, setting it back down on the bed as you begin to clean off his face first. Whether you wanted to avoid intimacy or not there were things you simply refused to throw to the wayside just because you wanted to remain distant, and one of those was taking care of him after sex. (He’s more receptive this time than he used to be, not fighting you and claiming he was fine, letting you dote on him with a sort of hesitant and soft acceptance. It makes your heart hurt all the more, the pure ache and want almost unbearable.)

“You’re always so messy..” It’s meant to be a light comment but the two of you accidentally lock gazes when you say it, your hand stalling in its motions. He looks like he wants to say something, lips parting – your breath catches in your throat, waiting, but he ultimately just shuts his mouth, gaze darting away from you. Your breath leaves you in a small burst. “Just relax, Kyun, I’ve got you.”

It’s the typical words you say to a sub after an intense session (with an accidental affectionate nickname that you bite the inside of your cheek for), but you mean them, and you don’t want to, but you do, irrevocably. You know that if he needed it, if he asked for it, you would let him stay here for as long as he wanted. You knew that tonight you wouldn’t be asking him to leave. And for that you are so, so incredibly fucked. (You wonder if he is too, judging from the way his eyes widen at the nickname and his breath stutters – but you crush that thought instantly, don’t dare to get your hopes up.)

He’s surprised that you take the time to clean him up, bring him water and a change in clothes – they aren’t his but they’re clearly a man’s, and he wonders if they belong to Hoseok considering the size. Something deep in his chest hurts at that thought. He’s even more surprised when you pull on an oversized shirt instead of telling him to leave – he faintly realizes that he recognizes it, a soft violet that hung down to your lower thighs and always felt soft against his chest when he’d hold you – crawling into bed next to him after changing into it, though he’s automatically moving to accommodate you, perfectly content to throw the thick comforter to the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Is.. this okay?” Your voice is quiet, so tentative and soft and hesitant, and all he wants to do is tell you yes, this was more than okay, this was everything he had ever wanted.

“Yeah – I mean, it’s your bed, so..” He hates himself for the way he responds, swallowing hard but taking the initiative to slide his arm over your side, nose in your hair. He can feel the way you tense, but you don’t say anything against it or try to pull away. “And.. this? It’s okay too?”

“…it’s okay.” It’s a small response but he inhales deeply in relief, drinking in your scent half by accident. It’s the same smell he had missed for so long, the one he’d dream of and wake up thinking there was a chance it still lingered on his pillow, heart dropping through his ribcage when he realized it wasn’t.

Despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach you fall asleep fast, mentally drained and physically exhausted - his fingers trace the line of your shoulder, head pillowed on his own arm as he watches you sleep. There is a purely warm and happy feeling trying to spread through his body, but it doesn’t make it very far before the remembrance that you still weren’t his and he still wasn’t yours freezes it in its tracks. He feels like his heart is melting, dripping through his ribs and oozing into his stomach and making him sick.

He’s shaking your shoulder before he even knows what he’s doing, and you’re half-awake and groggy but so fucking beautiful and every single one of his nerves feels like a live wire underneath his skin, buzzing and loud and painful, and he is so scared, but he is also tired. Tired of hurting, tired of missing you, tired of the way Kihyun will be talking about you but stop awkwardly when he notices Changkyun listening, tired of the way he smiles so big his cheeks hurt when the two of you talk on the phone, tired of how he swallows down the words “love you” every time you hang up – and he’s fucking tired of being scared most of all.

“Changkyun, you better be fucking dying..” You’re angry, always angry when woken suddenly, and he just wants to kiss you.

‘I love you, I’m stupid, I was scared, I always loved you, I never fucking stopped, did you know I would dream of you? Did you know that you were the only thing on my mind? On plane rides, in the vans, backstage, all I could think about was you and my hyungs all told me I was just hurting myself and I knew that but I still hoped that somehow you and I would end up happy together.’

Like always he can’t say any of it. It sits on his tongue and he just utters a quiet ‘fuck’ instead, throat tight. Why couldn’t he fucking do this?

“..Kyun?” He’s sitting up now, and you are too, side by side – your expression is open, sleepy but worried, and he has a sudden urge to take your face in his hands and kiss your eyelids.

The scariest part of telling the truth, of laying yourself bare for someone, of letting them in, was that they could take one look and never come back. And maybe he’s not afraid of loving you – maybe he’s never been afraid of loving you, with your eyes that hold the only stars he ever wants to look at. Maybe he’s been afraid of not being loved back.

He swallows hard, reaches for every bit of confidence and courage performing has ever given him, forces himself to be brave the way the industry has taught him to be. Moonlight filters in through the window and he thinks your eyes might actually house the milky way in them somehow.

“I love you, still – always. I never stopped.”

He can’t breathe because you’re just looking at him, stunned and disbelieving, tears collecting on your lash-line but not falling, never falling, and he feels like the fucking worst for telling you now, this way, this bluntly – but he knows if he didn’t say anything he would have never said anything, and he’s not sure he could have survived that, so the words had fallen from his lips hard and heavy and desperate to be said. (And a part of him is still surprised he even managed to say them at all, rushed and frantic as they were.)

“I –“ Your brow is furrowed and your voice is thick, but when he reaches to brush your tears away you let him and his lungs start to tentatively fill themselves with oxygen again.

When you smile it is watery and weak but it is there, and he feels like sunlight has reappeared in the lining of his skin, bright and blinding and warm.

#sub!changkyun #sub!monsta x #changkyun x reader #monsta x reactions #monsta x imagines #monsta x scenarios #i don't usually do happy endings but this one just happened #i'm going straight to hell for this

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