#i should stop torturing myself with romantic thoughts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seijorhi · 2 years

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Scion

yakuza arranged marriage anyone??

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

wc 8.5k

tw dubcon, noncon, drug use, mentions of murder, torture, minor character death, implied infidelity, human trafficking, blood, general yandere themes, smut, nsfw

“You know we’re not actually in a relationship, right?”

Oikawa grins, “The big, sparkly diamond ring I’ve got in my back pocket begs to differ.”

You fix him with an unimpressed look, which only serves to make his grin widen. He really can’t help himself when you get all worked up like this.

“I’m serious, Oikawa. Ring or no ring. Contract or no contract, I think it’s better for the both of us to just act like–”

“Act like this isn’t happening?”

“That’s not– you’re being difficult,” you huff. “I just meant that we don’t need to pretend to be all… coupley in the meantime. You’re free to see and do whatever you want, and… and so am I.”

It’s not a question exactly, there’s something distinctly uncertain in your tone. Are you seeking his permission or trying to reaffirm to yourself that you still have some semblance of freedom – romantic or otherwise – until the moment you walk down the aisle to bind yourself to him?

Neither thought sits particularly well with him, though before Oikawa can open his mouth to deliver a retort, you’re cutting him off. “And I’m not wearing the ring.”

“No? But I haven’t even shown it to you yet. I picked it out myself, and you know I have excellent taste.”

Your scowl deepens. “Would it kill you to take this seriously?”

“Like you are?” he parries. “You understand that you’re essentially giving me a free pass to fuck whoever I want while we’re engaged.”

He doesn’t miss the flicker of distaste that you try (and fail miserably) to hide. You’ve always been like that; wearing your emotions on your face, bare as the light of day. And while that’s an admirable trait in somebody else – one he admittedly finds more endearing than he should as far as you’re concerned – it won’t do you any favours in this world of his. The world you were born into, loathe as you seem to be to accept your part in it.

Admittedly, it does make it so very entertaining whenever he decides to push those delightful buttons of yours.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself perhaps, and lift your gaze to meet his.

“I don’t know why you even agreed to marry me, and honestly I don’t care. I'm doing this for my family, but if this whole thing falls apart before I ever make it down the aisle, I’ll sleep just fine. So by all means, fuck whoever you want, whenever you want, I promise you I won’t stop you – so long as you hold up your end of the bargain.”

Though you never raise your voice, there’s a fire that burns in your eyes, unwavering. Unflinching. And far from being put off by it, Oikawa’s thrilled.

“Fine,” he purrs, “but you’ll be wearing the ring.”

—

You’d asked for a year, and graciously, he’d agreed.

Oikawa’s waited a long, long time for this, another twelve months will hardly make a difference. Besides, there’s nothing stopping him from stealing you away every now and then; there’s meetings with the wedding planner, picking out a venue, organising caterers, going over the guest lists – all responsibilities he could technically pass off to someone else, but why deny himself the pleasure of your sparkling company when he has the chance?

And of course, there’s special occasions that people would traditionally want to celebrate with their soon to be spouses. Days like today; his 30th birthday.

He doesn’t bother informing you of this, because then he’d miss out on seeing your bright, sunny grin when you open the door, and how it falters when you realise that it’s him.

“Oh, Oikawa…”

Though it’s an admittedly poor effort, he’ll give you credit for trying to pretend that it’s not blatant disappointment leaching from your tone as you grip the edge of the door, your gaze darting over his shoulder quickly.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Ah. His eyes drift downwards, taking in the short, summery dress, the light sweep of makeup across your pretty face. Spies the ‘fuck me’ heels sitting by the door, ready for you to slip on before you leave.

Date night, then. And on his birthday no less.

“Did you have plans?” he asks, plastering an innocent smile across his face. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

The answer is obviously yes, even if it weren’t clear from your outfit, he can see it written all over your expression.

Your fingers tighten a fraction on the door, “I assumed– I thought tonight you’d be out with your… friends.” Friends, bodyguards, lieutenants, brothers. His family, soon to be yours. “To celebrate, I mean. Today’s your birthday, right?”

Oikawa’s touched that you remember. Then again, perhaps he shouldn’t be – ever since he was a teenager, your father had essentially enforced your presence (yours and your brother’s) at any of their events, birthday celebrations no exception.

Another glance risked over his shoulder.

He shrugs easily, “We will be, later. For now I want you all to myself.”

You open your mouth, only to abruptly snap it shut, suddenly hesitant. Not without cause, he supposes. One thing to insist that your engagement with him doesn’t construe a proper relationship, another to openly admit you’re seeing somebody else while it’s his ring that glitters on your finger.

His smile widens. “Unless you have somewhere else to be?”

“… Not at all.”

Good girl.

He takes you to his favourite restaurant in the city. Wraps an arm low around your back and lets his thumb rub slowly – posessively – at your hip when the staff bow deeply and address him by name, ushering you both to a private room, his usual, out the back.

You’re quiet through dinner, picking at the food on your plate.

Normally it’d irritate him, push him to poke and prod until you came alive and played with him, however tonight he finds it oddly satisfying. Delightful, if only because he knows he’s the cause of your discomfort.

Did you manage to message your jilted lover before he swept you away for the night, or does the poor bastard think you’ve stood him up, he wonders.

“You know,” he begins, idly gazing down at his glass as he swirls the last dregs of whiskey, “I’ve been thinking that we need to amend our contract.”

You glance up sharply, and he only barely resists snickering. “What?”

“I think we should add a fidelity clause.” He pauses, lets the words sink in as he drains his glass in a single mouthful, “You seemed convinced I’d be fucking other people after we married, well, now you don’t have to worry.”

You blink. “But… I told you I didn’t care–”

“This way, if you catch me being unfaithful, both our marriage and the contract become null and void, and you can go on your merry way.”

Setting the now empty glass back on the table, Oikawa rests an arm on the back of his chair. For all your naivety, you’ve never been stupid. He can tell from the sudden tight, apprehensiveness in your features that you understand the subtle threat, yet it never hurts to hammer the point home, “Of course, that goes both ways, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” you echo back, your voice unsteady, and knock back the last of your wine.

Oikawa grins, “Another round?”

—

“Her brother’s outside,” Matsukawa informs him. “Demanding to see you.”

The night before his wedding, Oikawa stands at the sink of his bathroom, a damp face cloth in hand, wiping at the blood splattered along his face and neck. He’s already shed his shirt, dumped it on the floor – it’s likely beyond salvaging, the blood already in the process of drying. Another casualty to this lifestyle, though considering how much of a colossal fuck up this night’s already been, he can’t find it within himself to give a shit about one measely shirt.

Mattsun meets his gaze in the mirror, “Want me to get rid of him?” he asks.

Oikawa exhales, dropping the towel into the sink. His tattoos, the vibrant bursts of colour inked between swirling blacks and greys, stand stark against the pale skin of his torso, rising and falling with each measured breath. There’s a temptation for him to tell Mattsun to simply get rid of him. An even bigger temptation to march out there himself and soothe the monster raging beneath his skin with more blood.

Instead, he holds out a hand, to which Hanamaki quickly passes him a clean shirt to shrug on.

“No. Let him in.”

In truth, he’d been somewhat expecting a visit tonight, sending your brother to grovel for last minute clemency, though? Oikawa’s almost disappointed, he expected more from you.

Your glowering brother isn’t nearly as pretty to look at.

A few minutes later, dressed and clean, Oikawa makes his way into his study, ignoring the man already seated while he settles himself into the leather backed chair behind his desk. His right hand, Iwaizumi, lingers by the door, arms folded across his chest, scowling silently at their guest.

“Oikawa,” he grits out, his head inclining just a fraction – all the respect he can seem to muster for the man marrying his sister. His soon to be Oyabun, considering that after tomorrow, all that he was poised to inherit becomes Oikawa’s.

His answering smirk is practically vulpine. “Come to play white knight? Leaving it a bit late, don’t you think?”

“She doesn’t know I’m here,” he spits, eyes narrowing. “Tell me what I need to do to end this.”

“And what makes you think I’d be interested in that?”

And Oikawa has to give him credit; he doesn’t waste a beat, “Because you’re a greedy little fuck who enjoys manipulating people. Stop playing games and tell me what it is you want in exchange for breaking this engagement, and I’ll go.”

He laughs, lazily drumming his fingers along the edge of the ornate, wooden desk. “Always a charmer, Eita. I’m curious, though, are you here begging for her sake, or your own? Because you know as well as I do what’ll happen to you and your father if this wedding doesn’t go ahead.” There’s nothing kind in his expression as his lips curl upwards, “Is the price worth it?”

“God, you’re an asshole.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Eita’s eyes narrow. “You know she hates this, right? Wants absolutely nothing to do with any of it. She had to beg our father for months just to be allowed to attend a normal school, and flat out refused to have any part in the business, to even be in the same room when it was being discussed – which was fine because he had me to do all that.”

“The prodigal son,” Oikawa mocks, earning himself a sneer in response.

“She wanted out, and we were so close to convincing him when he had to go fuck everything up. And because he’d spent years making bad decision after bad decision, running our family into the ground and then decided to screw over the wrong syndicate, he comes crawling to you, begging for help.”

“Such gratitude, as always.”

Eita scoffs, “Am I supposed to be grateful? It wasn’t enough to take over our territory and operations, was it? You had to take her too, and because she for some fucking reason loves the old bastard, she’s going along with it. I don’t give a shit about losing any of it, but she’s not gonna throw her life away for his sake, or mine. So I’ll ask you again, Oikawa; what do you want in exchange for letting her out of this?”

Interesting. Nothing he didn’t technically already know, or at least suspect, nevertheless… interesting. And with glittering eyes he leans in close. Smirks.

“As tempting an offer as that may be, I have everything I want.”

—

As the head of one of the largest Yakuza syndicates in the country, a small wedding was never an option. Hundreds of guests pour into the estate, all with the sole purpose of witnessing the two of you tying the knot in a beautiful, lavish ceremony. And it is a beautiful, lavish ceremony. Champagne towers and endless floral garlands falling between the glittering chandeliers, a string quartet plays as the wedding procession begins.

Your dress was technically the only thing he hadn’t had a hand in. He’d wondered earlier, staring at his reflection as he fixed the cuffs of his tuxedo jacket, what kind of wedding gown you’d chosen for yourself. After all, despite you agreeing to this marriage, you’d made no secret of your ambivalence towards the entire day, only giving input when Oikawa prodded.

There was always a possibility you’d choose something plain and dull, simply because you didn’t care enough to pick otherwise. As you walk down the aisle on your father’s arm, however, he realises he needn't have worried.

You’re perfect.

Heart-stoppingly beautiful in ivory lace and tulle, and though Iwa leans over, claps him on the shoulder and says something in his ear, Oikawa can’t hear a word of it. Can’t focus on anything – anyone – but you.

And your eyes are shining for all the wrong reasons, and yet he can’t bring himself to care when the elder Semi places your trembling hand in his. A perfect fit.

From there, the rest of the ceremony passes in a blur. Vows are spoken, yours somewhat apprehensively, and rings exchanged, and when the time comes to kiss his lovely bride, Oikawa obliges, his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you flush against him, dipping you to a flurry of raucous cheers and clapping.

You stand dutifully at his side as the hoard of well wishers come to congratulate him – the both of you, technically – and pay their respects, saying little beyond the expected pleasantries. All the while his thumb strokes along the back of the hand you have placed in his.

Cocktails. Dinner. Toasts. The cutting of the cake. Tossing your bouquet. Necessary traditions expected of you both, Oikawa suffers patiently through each of them until finally, it comes time for the two of you to leave.

The moment he has you alone, in the backseat of the wedding car, the last frayed tether of his self control snaps, and he’s on you.

Leaning across the seat, one hand cups the back of your neck, anchoring you in place as his parted lips crash greedily against your own, the other pulls at your skirt, blindly seeking the what awaits him beneath.

Oikawa can taste the notes of champagne on your lips, the sweet tartness of the chocolate dipped strawberries he watched you swipe from the dessert table before you left. Will your cunt taste as sweet, he wonders, his tongue sliding into your mouth in search of more.

“Tooru,” you gasp when he eventually draws back, a thin strand of spit connecting your mouths as you struggle to catch your breath. “Wait, just–”

“No,” he growls, tightening his grip and dragging you back in.

The force of it, his kiss, the weight of him bearing down on you has you sliding awkwardly back in the seat ‘til you’re almost horizontal. Despite that, you make no further attempts to dissuade him, letting him kiss you senseless.

Letting him ruck up your skirt and run his fingers along the seat of your lace panties.

Maybe because you know it’s pointless to fight when Oikawa’s made it clear has no interest in stopping or slowing down, maybe because you knocked back one too many glasses of champagne at the reception, or because you’re getting swept up along with it too – he doesn’t care for the reasons.

He’s been waiting all day to finally have you, and for years before that, and now that you’re irrevocably his, Oikawa fully intends on taking – and enjoying – what he’s owed.

The drive is fifteen minutes from the reception to the hotel, and by the time the driver pulls to a stop out front, Oikawa’s sliding those same panties off your smooth legs, pocketing them with a wicked grin. “Ready, sweetheart?” he purrs.

A little dazed, a little drunk, you only manage an unsteady nod, taking your husband’s proffered hand to step from the car and hastily adjust your dress, smoothing out any wrinkles. A waste of time, in his opinion, considering what he has planned for you, still, sort of cute, in its own way.

The clerk behind the counter is friendly enough, smiling politely and congratulating the two of you as he passes across the keys to the honeymoon suite. The second the doors to the elevator slide closed, Oikawa’s on you again, shoving you back against the mirrored wall, latching onto your neck, sucking and nibbling on the delicate flesh and palming at your tits as you throw your head back and heave a breathy sigh.

Your wedding dress, beautiful as it is, doesn’t make it much further than the front door, Oikawa’s fingers scrabbling to rip open the fastenings at the back, buttons scattering across the floor as it yields to him. And he’s enough of a gentleman to help you out of the wreckage of your dress, though he makes no effort to hide the way he stares hungrily, eyes darkening as you’re bared completely before him.

The curve of your breast, nipples peaking from arousal, those lovely, soft thighs he’s been waiting to dig his fingers into, the pretty little pussy you shyly try to hide from him, glistening from his earlier attention–

His cock twitches in anticipation.

Fuck.

“No bra?” he teases, as if his voice hasn’t dropped an octave at the sight of you. “And here I was looking forward to unwrapping my pretty bride on our wedding night.”

He watches your brow furrow as the soft dig works its way through your tipsy haze, and before you can let yourself get upset by it, Oikawa grabs you again. Kisses your lips fleetingly and grings, tugging you towards the bed covered in rose petals, shrugging off his tuxedo jacket and tossing it aside as he does so.

“Lie down for me,” he commands, working on the buttons of his shirt, his bow tie already lost somewhere in the fray. “On your back.”

Obediently you settle on the mattress, propped up on your elbows as he sheds that too. Through glazed eyes you stare at him. At his bared chest–

No, he realises belatedly. You’re staring at his tattoos, your eyes trailing from his forearm to his bicep, rounding his shoulder and down his pectoral, following the snarling red dragon that curls up his right arm, the oni and the twin snakes baring their fangs on the left.

This is the first time you’ve seen them, yes, but they shouldn’t come as a surprise. Both your brother and father have their own, it’s the mark of the Yakuza, and yet you seem entranced by his, staring at them with something akin to wonder.

“See something you like?” he asks, chuckling when you pointedly ignore him.

His ego stroked, he settles down on his knees at the foot of the bed. Holding you by your hips, Oikawa hauls you forward, ignoring your startled squeak, and nudges your thighs further apart. Licks his lips and lifts his lust darkened eyes to meet your own.

He watches you inhale, a flutter of trepidation teasing at the edges of your expression.

All you can seem to manage is a shaky, “Please.”

And he doesn’t know if you’re asking him to stop, or slow down or if it’s a plea for him to hurry up and get on with it. Again, it hardly matters – he has no intention of letting up tonight.

Leaning in, his nose skims along your inner thigh before he comes face to face with your pussy. Warm and glistening, clit nice and puffy, he’s waited long enough to taste you.

His mouth descends, tongue dragging along your pussy with broad strokes that have you gasping, jerking in his hold. It’s not the sweetness of your lips, still, there’s something heavenly about the taste of your cunt, the soft, feminine musk that envelops him. He moans against your sex, the vibrations drawing another whimpering breath as your hips arc up, gently rolling against his face in search of more friction.

Fuck that’s hot.

Oikawa teases at your clit, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth, sucking gently, letting the very tip of his tongue flick at it, before returning to lap at your folds.

“T-Tooru–”

A moan slips from you, your hips bucking as his tongue delves deeper, pushing between your slick folds, sucking and slurping, waggling his tongue back and forth to drive you to the point of madness. Your hands fist at the white sheets, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to try and stifle all of your pretty noises while he eats you out, tits heaving with every stuttered breath.

Now that just won’t do.

Adjusting his grip, Oikawa breaks away and instead brings his fingers to your cunt, teasing at your lower lips, before finally sliding two fingers inside of you with a smirk.

And your pussy’s so wet, so fucking needy, clinging to the digits as they slowly stretch your tight little hole out. It’s not enough. He knows it’s not enough, sees the frustration pinching at your face every time you chase his fingers when they withdraw. He can’t resist holding out just a little while longer, though.

Call it male pride, the twisted satisfaction that coils deep in his guts at the sight of you desperate and fighting against yourself to beg him for what you truly want– and he hasn’t even started fucking you yet.

“You wanna cum, don’t you baby?” he croons softly, “Just tell me what my pretty little wife needs.”

It takes a minute or two of that slow, agonising pace, but as you writhe and whine and jerk against his hold, finally your pride gives way. “Please!” you pant. “Please Tooru, more. I-I need more. Just hurry up and fuck me!”

He chuckles darkly, curling his fingers inside of you to rub at your g-spot as he leans down and resumes sucking at your neglected clit.

Whatever his wife wants.

—

Oikawa takes a slow drag of his cigarette, the tip glowing cherry red in the dark, and exhales into the cool night air.

“Whose?” he asks.

Iwa shrugs, “Dunno yet. Mattsun reckons one of the Osaka assholes trying to cut into our territory. So far they aren’t talking.”

Oikawa’s attention shifts for a moment. Sure enough, the last two gang members have been dragged off to have a chat with Makki and Matsukawa. The latter of the two currently straddling one of them, beating him into the ground, Makki tightly gripping the other’s face forcing him to watch.

There’s nothing but cold certainty in his voice when he simply says, “They will.”

He drops the cigarette to the ground and grinds the smoldering embers beneath the heel of his shoe. Without another word he strides into the warehouse – a makeshift den.

The bodies haven’t been touched yet, lying where they fell in pools of congealing blood, scattered bullet casings littering the ground around them. Oikawa pays them no mind. Instead he glances at the pallets strewn across the warehouse floor, brick upon brick of drugs, cocaine, meth, bundled baggies of non-descript little pills. More than he can count, at any rate.

And there’s cases of weapons too. Nothing flash or fancy, but guns are guns, and Oikawa’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Iwa’s silent beside him, gazing around the room with a shrewd look in his eye, likely trying to calculate the street value of it all.

Ever the businessman.

Oikawa smirks.

Drugs will sell no matter what they’re cut with. It’s impossible to tell the quality by sight alone – retrieving his switchblade from his jacket pocket, he slices one of the bricks open, dips a finger in and swipes it along his gums.

It takes only a second for that familiar rush of euphoria to wash over him, a pleasant shiver rolling down his spine. He grins. “It’s good. Pure.” A glance to Iwa, watching at his side, “How much?”

“Gotta be more than 300 pounds here.”

And fuck if he doesn’t like the sound of that. Oikawa whistles, unable to hide the smug satisfaction on his face.

“There’s girls too,” Yahaba, one of his men, says, stalking in from the back. “Mad Dog’s with ‘em.”

Five of them, he counts when he follows his lieutenant, huddled up out by the rear entrance, cringing away from the scowling blond who looks as if he’d love nothing more than to tear them apart, one after the other.

Part of the shipment, or merely entertainment, he wonders.

He steps closer, grabs one of the girl’s faces and forces it upwards, tilting it this way and that, studying her like a prize mare at auction. Clear eyes. Clean hair. No sign of bruising under the thickly applied – now smudged – makeup. Girls fresh off the proverbial boat tended to be drugged to high heaven to keep them compliant.

Even their clothes, the scraps they still have on at least, point towards a more established lifestyle.

Escorts, no doubt, brought along by the men for some entertainment while they guarded their stash before transport.

Shoving her away, Oikawa exhales, bringing his hand to his chin as he ponders the options.

Nobody will miss the girls if he orders Kyoutani and Yahaba to kill them. Either they’re owned by the same people who shipped in the drugs and the weapons, in which case their deaths’ll be chalked up to being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or they have a pimp, who beyond the loss of income, won’t give a shit.

No one kicks up a fuss over a few dead whores.

And even if they did, Oikawa owns the working girls in this city, this is his fucking turf. They should know better than to send their girls out here.

Yahaba and Kyoutani are both watching him carefully, awaiting the order. They wouldn’t so much as blink if he told them to cut the girls down right where they stood.

If he were feeling particularly generous, he could let them go, run on back home to whatever brothel they crawled out of. Unfortunately for them, he’s all too aware that the only things girls like them are quicker to open than their legs are their mouths, and that just won’t do.

At the end of the day, though, a whore’s a whore; they’ll make money one way or another. Even the ugly ones.

“Take them back to Hirama’s, she’ll find work for them. Who knows, Mad Dog,” he says, throwing his enforcer a wry grin and a wink, “If you’re lucky, she might even let you fuck one of them first.”

The blond scowls, even under the flickering lights he can’t hide the pink flush that stains his cheeks.

Iwa raises an eyebrow, snickering at Kyoutani’s expense, “You think so? I thought she was still pissed at him for breaking the last one.”

“Mad Dog just likes to play rough, that’s all,” he smirks. “Hirama knows that, and besides, she owes me a favour.”

The girls are already out of his mind as he turns to leave, carrying on his conversation with Iwa. Tonight’s endeavours have been surprisingly fruitful – enough that he can’t justify being pissed off at getting called away in the middle of fucking his wife.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t itching to return.

He’s almost at the warehouse door when a clamour breaks out behind him. Yahaba curses, a few of the girls shout, and there’s a gasped “Wait!” called out.

Oikawa whirls to find one of the escorts, a slight blonde with painted red lips and wide doe eyes, ducking out from under Kyoutani’s outstretched arm.

She ignores the snarl from Kyoutani, the pistol Iwaizumi instinctively whips out, focused wholly on him as she grabs at his arm and clings to it, presses her lithe, scantily clad body close, “Wait,” she says, tears glimmering in her eyes even as she tries for a convincing sultry look, “Don’t send me away, I– we could–”

He doesn’t wait to hear what the two of them could do, backhanding her hard enough that she sprawls to the ground with a ugly cry.

“Whores don’t get to touch,” he sneers, spitting on her curled up figure for good measure.

Good mood all but evaporated, he meets Kyoutani’s eye as the blond snaps forward to grab her by the arm and roughly haul her back to her feet.

“If they decide to be difficult, get rid of them.”

—

She made us. She’s pissed.

Oikawa glances up at the approaching sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor. Quick. Agitated. Kunimi wasn’t wrong, it seems.

Mere seconds later, the door to his study is thrown open, and in you stalk; a storm of beautiful fury. “You’re having me followed?!”

Smoothly, he pockets his phone and rises to his feet. “Ah, there you are, sweetheart. I was wondering when you’d be getting back.” He takes a long, lingering look at your outfit; the red knit, halter dress that clings so beautifully to the curves of your body. “Gone for hours at a time, dressed like that… What’s a husband to do?”

The grin on his face is nothing short of a challenge.

“So you think I’m cheating on you, is that it?” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest. “You really think so little of me?”

He comes out from behind his desk and mimics your posture, arms folded as he leans back against the varnished surface and meets your narrowed gaze. “Do I need to remind you, baby, of what’d happen if you were?”

And if he weren’t staring at you so intently, if he didn’t know your expressions and body language inside and out, perhaps he might’ve missed that tiny flicker of fear in your eyes.

Not a confirmation exactly, yet enough for him to know he’s not entirely off the mark, and oh how that makes him burn.

“You’d… divorce me and take away my family’s protection,” you mutter, your tone more petulant now than angry.

Oikawa nods, “On paper, yes.”

“On pa– what do you mean on paper?”

His lips curl into a cruel smile, “That was our deal, wasn’t it? Either one of us cheats, and our contract becomes void.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “That’s what I just–”

“That’s all. The contract becomes void on paper. It means that if I decide I want to get rid of your father myself, no one’ll stop me. No one would fucking dare.” He pushes off the desk and closes in on you – a tiger stalking its prey. “And that brother of yours. Your shining white knight. What do you think I’ll do to him?”

His voice is soft, sweet almost. A loving caress, if not for the terrible words he speaks. But he wants you afraid, wants you terrified. Two fingers gently tilt your chin upwards, and he basks in the way you flinch from him, the alarm you seem so desperate to tamp down bleeding all over your lovely face.

“And me?” you whisper. Would you kill me too, he reads in your eyes.

“You really think so little of me?” he parrots back, sickly satisfied when your stricken expression stutters. “You’re my wife; I love you, you know that. Why would I go to all the trouble of making you mine just to throw you away so heartlessly?”

He sees the flicker of confusion in your eyes, and the moment your lips part he’s kissing you, tamping down any protest. Devouring, though, would probably be a better word. Kissing to bruise, to hurt. To claim. Teeth harshly nipping at your bottom lip, Oikawa moans when he tastes the coppery tang of blood on his tongue.

It’s not enough, though.

You make the mistake of trying to wriggle out of his hold, whining pathetically into the kiss, and the last meagre tether on his composure snaps. The desk is only feet away, but he doesn’t have the patience to drag you over to it when the wall is right fucking there.

Breaking away, he grabs your sides and roughly spins you around, slamming you back against the door hard enough for a pained gasp to leave your lips.

“Tooru– Tooru, wait, please!”

No. He’s never been cruel to you – not how men can truly be cruel – tonight, though, he can’t be bothered caring about the tears spilling from your lashes or the panicked shriek you give when he hikes up the skirt of your dress and yanks your panties aside.

“I haven’t– I wouldn’t–” you keep babbling – he pays it no mind as he hurriedly frees his cock from his pants and lines himself up.

“You’re mine,” he hisses, sheathing himself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust. “My pretty wife.”

Your cries are louder now, agonised and wailing, Oikawa’s long past the point of caring, though. His staff know better than to pry, and his men won’t intercede on matters between their Oyabun and his wife, no matter how loud you get.

This is between you and him.

“You think I don’t know about the texts you hide?” Another thrust. “The calls, late at night? Your disappearing act last week?” His hips clap against your backside, his pace vicious and unrelenting.

The dryness of your cunt makes it an unpleasant start, yet it hardly takes long before your syrupy slick begins to coat his length, easing his passage no matter how violently he pounds into you.

And despite your whimpers and hitched pleas, how you struggle fruitlessly against him, the plush, velvety walls of your heat cling to his cock, sucking him deeper with each fevered stroke. He pushes himself closer to you, buries his face in your hair and breathes deep, relishing how you shake and tremble as he stuffs you full, your poor little pussy moulding to the shape of his dick.

As if he can imprint himself permanently inside of you if he just fucks you well enough.

The door shakes against its stop every time he slams you against it, and that, plus your sweet sobs and the panting breaths you share, is almost enough to drown out the slick, gushing sound coming from your pussy and the rapid paps of his balls hitting your top of your thighs.

Almost, but not quite.

He’ll never tire of fucking you, not when your cunt’s so warm and you feel this good squeezing and fluttering around him. Oikawa’d rather die than ever give this up, and with a fist tangled in your hair, he yanks your head back to whisper as much in your ear. Drags his hungry mouth over your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft, supple flesh for good measure.

You shudder around him, and he groans in pleasure. His wife. His.

“I haven’t… fucked him,” you gasp out, mewling as his cock hits a sweet spot, deep inside of you. “It’s not like that.”

His expression darkens, a scowl twisting at his lips at the mention of your would-be lover. “End it,” he snarls, “or I’ll kill him myself.”

—

Less than two weeks later, Oikawa's being driven to an important meeting when Iwaizumi’s phone suddenly blares to life.

He pays it no mind, content to let his oldest friend handle whatever issue has sprung up while he busies himself with retrieving his cigarette case from the breast pocket of his jacket. Flicking the silver lid open, Oikawa slips one out and mindlessly offers the case to Iwa – who ignores it entirely – as he pats his other pockets in search of his lighter.

“When?”

He knows that flat tone all too well, and glances up sharply to find Iwa staring ahead, his jaw set, face grim. Whoever’s on the other end of the line speaks for a moment more, the volume too low for him to discern what they’re saying. Whatever it is seemingly does little to set Iwa at ease.

“Fuck… Alright, get back to the house. Tell Makki and whoever else is there not to let her out of their sight ‘til we get back.”

“What is it?”

Iwa sighs, pocketing his phone and pressing the button to lower the partition between them and the driver, “There was a drive-by downtown fifteen minutes ago. Semi Takuma’s dead.”

—

For a man who once helmed one of Tokyo’s most formidable syndicates, your father’s funeral draws a pitifully small turnout.

Oikawa could blame the weather, the dreary grey sky and the rain clouds that show no sign of letting up for keeping mourners away. The truth of the matter, however, is simply that by the end of his life, Semi Takuma’s friends were few and far between. He recognises all bar a few of the faces in the crowd, most of them from his own family, there not to pay respect to the dead – the elder Semi inspired little of that – but in support of you, the beloved wife of their Oyabun.

Clinging to his side under the awning, your face wet with fresh tears and eyes puffy and rimmed red from the countless that had come before. Perhaps the only true mourner in attendance. Not even your brother, standing stone faced at the temple doors, greeting those who’ve bothered to turn up, seems to be able to muster much grief for the man he called a father.

Briefly, it occurred to him that you might’ve been the one behind the hit. A cold hearted, calculating move to be sure, still, even you must recognise what you’d stand to gain in removing a bargaining chip from the board.

Could you do it? Kill the man who raised you? Who loved you, and sold you like cattle to save his own skin despite it? You’re not like Oikawa, you’re not even like your brother; you’ve never had the heart for their kind of corruption. He’d never peg you as a killer, even via proxy, but… maybe he’d pushed you too far that night in his study.

Desperate people do desperate things.

And yet Oikawa hadn’t come home that day to crocodile tears or smirking pride, only pain and heartbreak and clenched fists beating at his chest as you sobbed yourself hoarse and broke against him.

‘You promised! You promised you’d protect him!’

He’d taken the blows, held you tight until the tears subsided. Kissed you so tenderly as your fingers curled into his shirt and you buried your face above his beating heart.

It’d be a lie to say that he cares one way or another about your father’s death beyond the implication of trouble brewing, but this – your sweet dependency, how desperate you’ve become for any semblance of comfort in his arms (however temporarily) – Oikawa wouldn’t trade this for the world.

He sighs heavily, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. “We gotta go in. It’s almost time.”

Finally, you lift your face, lips parting to say something, only to fall silent instead, your expression morphing into one of shock as you spy something over his shoulder.

Oikawa turns sharply, following your gaze. Sure enough, standing under an umbrella near the old, wooden pillars by the temple gates is a dark haired man dressed in a black suit. Familiar, though when he racks his brain to try and place from where, he comes up with a blank. That in itself is enough to unsettle him.

And while there’s nothing threatening in his stance, no obvious bump or crease in the line of his suit to suggest a concealed weapon, he knows better than to assume this stranger isn’t carrying, much less that he isn’t a possible threat.

Oikawa hasn’t gotten to where he is today by ignoring his gut.

“Tooru,” your voice is quiet. Hoarse. And though you clutch at his larger hand, tugging at it with insistence, he doesn’t budge. “Let’s go inside. Please, Tooru, I can’t– I can’t do this without you.”

Your father was not a well loved man, and they’ve yet to find any solid leads as to who’s responsible for the hit against him. If the man by the gate had so much as a hand in it–

He makes a snap decision. “Stay with Iwa,” he orders, prying his hand from your grip with what little gentleness he can muster. “If he tells you to do something, you do it.” Even as he spits the words, hears the sharp hitch in your breath as your fingers scrabble to keep their grip on him, his attention remains firmly fixed on the dark haired figure.

Yet the stranger makes no move to enter the temple grounds, seemingly content standing in the rain under the cover of his umbrella, staring right back at Oikawa.

… No. Not at him, he realises after a beat. He’s staring at you.

“Tooru, don’t!” you cry.

Two words.

With a painful slowness, he turns back to look at you. Narrowed eyes sweeping across your face, studying it with a frightening intensity. You’ve never been able to hide your feelings from him; he can read you like a book, knows you like the back of his hand.

Your expression is twisted. Agonised, but not with the raw, aching grief you’ve succumbed to over the past few days.

It’s fear that shines in those beautiful eyes of yours.

Panic.

Two words, a tightening grip, and Oikawa understands.

“Please,” you beg, clutching at him desperately. “We’ll go inside and just forget all about this, okay? I told him not to come, I swear! I-I told him–”

You’re starting to hyperventilate, short, squeaking breaths shaking your frame. Like a bunny, cornered and frightened, cowering from the jaws of the big, bad wolf.

He grins. Takes both of your trembling hands in his, lifts them to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of each. Kisses the glittering diamond atop your ring finger last of all. “Baby,” he purrs, silk over a razor’s edge, “Do what I tell you. Stay with Iwaizumi.”

His second is already there. Has been since the moment he clocked the interloper, maybe even before Oikawa did. Without a word he takes you from Oikawa, sweeps you back with a strong arm curled around your waist and holds you there, struggling pitifully against him. Mere feet away your brother watches on, jaw set, hands clenched into fists by his side, glaring at the both of them as you beg and cry softly in Iwa’s arms.

Oikawa doesn’t even bother acknowledging his presence. Eita can glower and sneer all he likes, they both know he won’t interject. Not with this. Not against them.

Not even for you.

Pulling his umbrella from the stand, Oikawa opens it with a flourish, spares you one last grin, and steps out into the lashing rain.

“Relax, pretty girl. He and I are just gonna have a friendly chat, that’s all!”

The sound of your sweet begging follows him until distance and the rain drown them out.

Closer now, he gets a better look at the man who fancies himself in love with you (and he’d have to be to risk coming here, knowing who your husband is).

His face is pretty enough, he supposes, fine, delicate features with eyes a piercing, gunmetal blue. His hair’s short, dark – messy and windswept – and yet the rest of his appearance; the well tailored suit, polished black oxfords, even the watch that pokes out from under his sleeve; they give the impression of someone put together. Methodical, even.

He can’t be much older than Oikawa, if he’s older at all, and he stands a few inches shorter, his build perhaps a fraction slighter. And if the man has tattoos – if he’s from another syndicate – they’re covered as his are, hidden beneath his clothes.

Unlike Oikawa, though, he isn’t smiling.

“You know who I am.”

It’s not a question, he doesn’t phrase it as such, however the dark haired stranger nods anyway; a short, sharp jerk of his chin. “Oikawa Tooru. I know plenty,” he replies bluntly.

“Good,” he says. “Now, I have a funeral to get to, a grieving wife to comfort, so I’ll make this quick. Showing your face here today was a ballsy move, I’ll give you that, it was also incredibly stupid. See, the thing is; I love my wife. More than some little shit like you could possibly begin to understand, but I’d sooner chain her to our bed and break every bone in her fucking body than let her touch another man, much less leave with one.

“If I were you, I’d tuck tail and run. Find some other city, some other man’s wife to pant after, because if you don’t…” he trails off, finally dropping his charming smile, “I’m gonna take my time killing you, and I’ll make her sit through every last second.”

The stranger says nothing, expression carefully blank, save for the slight narrowing of his eyes. They shift, sliding past Oikawa to gaze at the temple – or more accurately, at you, watching the interaction unfold from the safety of Iwa’s grasp.

After a moment, he looks back at Oikawa. “My condolences,” he says, and without another word, walks away.

—

Weeks ago, you’d stormed into his office, claws out and itching for a fight after finding out he was having you followed.

When he brings you back in the days following the funeral and tells you that you’re not allowed to leave the comfort of the sprawling estate without him by your side, you simply stare at the rug by his feet and in a tight, controlled voice, ask why.

Sighing, as if your refusal to meet his gaze physically wounds him, Oikawa takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently – lovingly – and leads you across the room to sit. Or, more accurately, he sits, and you somewhat reluctantly allow yourself to be tugged down onto his lap. “We still don’t know who killed your father, it’s not safe for you to be out there without me,” he murmurs, his palm grazing along your thigh in a false show of comfort.

Not a lie per se.

“Can you blame me for being overly cautious, baby?” he asks, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. The scent of you – jasmine and vanilla, the faintest hint of citrus – has his blood stirring, sends a pang of heady want straight to his cock. God, he’d fucking lick it off of your skin if he could. “I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt,” his fingers creep up under your skirt, his lips littering the curve of your throat with soft little kisses, “I like knowing my beautiful, lovely wife is safe and sound at home, right where I left her.”

…Until one day, you aren’t.

Divorce papers, signed in your name lay atop the mahogany desk in his study. Your wedding and engagement rings carefully placed next to your signature; impossible for him to miss.

Not a spur of the moment scramble for freedom, then.

The estate is eerily quiet. Not the calm before the storm. The blood on the gravel of his driveway, a stolen wife, Makki riddled with bullets – the storm’s already begun. Ripped its way through his home and family. This, this is the eye of it.

“How?” his voice is ice.

Kindaichi scowls, glaring at nothing in particular. He knows as well as Oikawa does; keeping an eye on you today was his responsibility, and in the wake of your disappearance–

“Bedroom window,” he admits with a frustrated huff. “She said she was tired and wanted to lie down for a bit. What was I supposed to do, follow her in there?”

Oikawa’s eyes flash, and Kindaichi’s jaw snaps shut. “And Makki?” he presses.

“Makki wasn’t supposed to be here. I dunno know why he showed up when he did. I guess he saw her running and tried to stop her and–” he breaks off abruptly, suddenly interested in looking anywhere except at the steaming Oyabun.

“… And?” Oikawa hisses, dropping the papers and rounding on his subordinate. “And what?”

“It was him. The guy Iwa says you’re looking for, the one you ran into at the funeral. Her–” he stumbles over the word, and changes tactics. “… He shot him. Came outta fucking nowhere.”

Fury rises up, choking at him as his blood roars, and for a moment, he can’t speak. Of course you hadn’t been the one to shoot Makki. You, who’d never so much as held a gun. You, who abhorred the more violent aspects of his life. You, who ran off with a fucking–

“Get out.”

He waits until the door shuts before fishing his phone from his pocket. Scours through his contacts until he finds the one he’s looking for.

It rings once. Twice. Three ti–

“Oikawa,” Eita greets, and there’s something in that tone, beyond the irritating arrogance and barely concealed disdain he usually holds for his brother in law that has him narrowing his eyes. He sounds almost… pleased.

“… You knew,” he surmises after a beat. “You fucking knew?!”

Eita snorts.

“Are you honestly surprised, Oikawa? Not so easy to keep your wife in line when your leverage gets gunned down in broad daylight, is it?”

Oikawa’s grip on his phone tightens, and he draws a sharp breath in through clenched teeth. “You think I won’t come after you?” he seethes.

“You’re more than welcome to try, asshole. I watched you hold me and him over her head for too fucking long, watched you hurt her, try and break her. I’ve been waiting for this a long, long time.”

“Tell me where she is, Eita.”

Silence greets him, and when he pulls the phone from his ear, the call’s been disconnected. He swears viciously, tossing it aside. Planting both of his hands against his desk, Oikawa hunches over and breathes raggedly, waiting for the white haze of pulsing anger to abate.

You left him. You left him. You left him. You left him. You left him.

The rings you left behind stare mockingly back at him, and he makes his decision. Snatching them both up, he shoves them in his pocket and rounds the desk, yanking open the right hand drawer to grab the pistol he keeps stashed away in there.

With a cold focus, he slips out the magazine, checks the rounds and jams it back into position, cocking the slide to load it before tucking it in the back of his waistband.

He told you once what he’d do if you ever laid a finger on another man, the lengths he’d go to to keep you his. Told your trigger happy lover, too.

What happens next; well, you can’t say he didn’t warn you.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

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butterflydm · 7 months

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wot rewatch (book spoilers edition): 2x6

First, it looks like tumblr refused to actually let my non-spoiler post be in the tags so here is the link: deeper dive 2x6: eyes without pity; hopefully this post will show up in the tags!

Not only is this one going to have spoilers for all the aired episodes plus any teasers (including the trailer for episode 7), it will also have book spoilers through book 14: A Memory of Light

"A few weeks ago I considered hitting Renna over the head with that pitcher, and I could not pour wash water for three days. Once I’d thought of it that way, I not only had to stop thinking about hitting her with it, I had to convince myself I would never, under any circumstances, hit her with it before I could touch it again. She knew what had happened, told me what I had to do, and would not let me wash anywhere except with that pitcher and bowl."

It is a little stunning how the show was able to take that paragraph and make this heartbreaking episode using it as the spine. And by changing it from a wash bowl into a water pitcher, they made it even more of a fundamental torture because Egwene is literally being dehydrated until she gives in to her abuser's demands.

Which, her mention of 'weeks ago' (Egwene is damane for roughly two or three months in the books) is making me wonder about the timeline in the show. Because we were visually shown the brutality of the 'training' process already, I wonder if the timeline is going to be shortened, or if we're going to get a timeskip of some kind next episode. Because Rand is definitely not interested in waiting around for weeks now that he knows Egwene is in captivity, even if he doesn't know the full extend of what's happened to her.

Also, double-checking the books, Egwene hits Renna in the stomach with the pitcher and doesn't hit her over the head like I had remembered; hitting her over the head was what she had thought about but never did. Maybe she'll get to brain her in the show.

2. Note: Renna may be wrong when she says that any pain a sul'dam feels, her damane feels twice-over even to the death, because in the last book when Min comes to rescue Mat and (ugh) Tuon, there is a damane attached to a dead sul'dam. And Min just... leaves her to die in a fire instead of saving her because book!Min kinda sucks but, yeah (she actually screams at the damane to help even though she should know it's impossible for her to help while she's still leashed). Though I wonder if Renna is actually correct but the implication is wrong -- which is that the damane does feel the full pain of the sul'dam's death (twice-over) but just doesn't necessarily die as a result of it.

3. The show is really really evoking book!Tuon in both the characters of Renna and Suroth in this episode, I have to say. Renna makes a point of saying she's a ~kinder softer~ sul'dam because she believes in cultivating a ~friendship~ with her damane and that's basically exactly how Tuon presents herself and her relationships with her ~well-behaved~ damane. And then later in the episode, we get Suroth's scene where she purposefully mocks and degrades Loial for her own amusement, evoking... well, Tuon in many moments tbh -- she laughs at Mat like this frequently in CoT & KoD, because she sees him as her own personal court jester -- but definitely the moment when Tuon steals Egeanin's name from her.

It's... it's an interesting thing because I also feel like the show has deliberately evoked book!Min in some of Lanfear's characterization changes, mostly when she was playing Selene -- pretending that she doesn't want a romantic relationship with Rand but desperately wanting one; pretending that she's not jealous about the other people he cares about but actually being incredibly jealous; trying to make herself his emotional anchor and the one person that he depends on; using their connection to get him to do things for her that he doesn't want to do (in Min's case, it's about using sex to get Rand to take her into dangerous situations, like the fake!DotNM meeting that ends up with Rand losing his hand while trying to protect Min). And taking characteristics that belonged to 'love interest' characters in the books and giving them to villains is... an interesting choice.

4. Is Lanfear questioning Rand near Shayol Ghul in TAR (that large blasted area) or is she just dramatic?

5. Turak's room of curiosities... I really wonder if we're going to sub in the Stone of Tear's storage room from TSR to Turak's room of curiosities and if there is a twisted stone doorway in there. That would give us a chance to do (some parts of) the beginning of TSR in 3x1 next season by having Mat, Rand, and Moiraine potentially all going into the doorway.

@markantonys was talking about how it was interesting that Min's romance viewing didn't come up in her scenes this season and speculated that the show is hedging its bets somewhat with regards to how much time they'll get to play out the storylines. And wondering that if that's the case for Rand's Situation, then it might end up being the case for Mat as well, and the show might hold back on the marriage prophecy (because if s4 or s5 ends up being the final season, they might not want to have to deal with squishing in Mat marrying some random slaver that we just met a handful of episodes ago). Definitely interesting to think about!

I personally love the idea that Avirandlayne could all get together without the viewers actually having heard about Min's viewing (besides the little hint of it we got in s1).

I do wonder sometimes if Jordan regretting sowing Mat's marriage prophecy in so early once the book series really started to stretch out, because it really handcuffed him to a very specific Mat plotline and some of the authorial choices that Jordan made to shackle Mat to that plotline were... very weird and involved characters behaving very strangely to their normal behavior (I have an entire post at the end of my WH reread where I go over how WTF some of Jordan's writing choices were to 'justify' Mat going on his road trip with Tuon).

6. I know that some people take issue with Alanna, Maksim, and Ihvon confronting Lan over potentially being a Darkfriend but... as Pevara says in A Crown of Swords, “You were very brave coming to me, Seaine. I’ve known Darkfriends to kill brothers, sisters, parents, to try hiding who they are and what they’ve done. I love you for it, but you were very brave indeed.”

Holding Lan above suspicion because of his background seems like it would have been foolish for Alanna & co to do, after having found that poem in his belongings. After he and Moiraine have been doing secretive journeys together for twenty years, very soon after Moiraine herself changed to be much colder and much more isolated from her fellow Sisters (especially since she and Siuan likely 'broke up' at that time).

I do think that book readers were potentially so distracted by wondering whether or not Alanna was going to get Lan's bond that they didn't necessarily realize that he was being covertly interrogated all of episode 4 by her and her two Warders, trying to figure out what Moiraine is doing and why she dumped Lan this way. I didn't look at the storyline like that on my first viewing because I was looking at it as a Lan plotline, but on my rewatch, it was actually very clear that Alanna, Maksim, and Ihvon were all trying to get information from Lan in various ways to try to figure out what's up with him and Moiraine. Alanna doesn't want Lan's bond; she wants his secrets.

7. More eye trauma for Mat in Rand's dream here. Both Nynaeve and Rand give Mat eye trauma foreshadowing in their visions, which does imply to me that the show wants to do the 'Finn plotline.

8. "You can travel too, see the world as it really is." hmm, I almost wonder if Rand is going to do what Egwene did in LoC, and use TAR to get to Falme quickly? (but then how do Moiraine, Lan, & Mat all come too? hmm. Might just be set up for a later season)

9. My constant emotional surprise when Randgwene keeps being a thing even though we haven't gotten to the part in the books where they break up For Real: my own personal toxic book reader trait, lol.

10. We once again have it kinda being hammered into Rand that going off entirely on his own and abandoning the people that he loves is a bad thing, actually. It's very very difficult to see the show ending in the same place that the books did, because "Rand off on his own and emotionally isolated" is definitely being shown as a negative.

(of course, it was mostly treated as a bad thing in the books too, until it's suddenly Rand's happy ending. but the show has the advantage of already knowing the journey they need to take to the ending, so I feel like they wouldn't be pressing this button so hard if they planned to end it the same way -- plus, this Rand doesn't even smoke pipes, which was really just Jordan, known pipe-smoker, stapling that trait onto every single male character in the series, no matter what their culture)

11. I really hope that the show is able to find some excuses to let more character reunions happen in the show than happened in the books because the idea of Mat and Rand splitting up in s4 for their respective narratives and then not seeing each other until they get one single scene in s8 is absolutely excruciating. My biggest disappointment with the Sanderson books...

...okay, no the biggest disappointment was Mat magically teleporting to Ebou Dar with zero explanation in the text of how it happened or why he changed his entire set of character motivations in between ToM & AMoL.

One of my disappointments was how... hollow the Mat & Rand reunion was. It happened on enemy territory, while Mat was still in full 'fawn over the slaver' mode and hadn't yet gotten his spine back, and it ends in this weird bro-out one-up competition that didn't really match their previous relationship in the books at all. So if the show could just... do all that differently... that would be great.

12. I wonder if Rafe & co noticed the same thing about Rand and Mat that I noticed in my last reread -- which is that their lives kinda drastically go downhill once the plot forces them to separate for the rest of the book series. Because we really see them being a source of comfort and support for each other here. Which is also very true in portions of the book series -- I think especially of moments like Mat quietly sitting with Rand after Rhuidean, which is literally exactly what Rand needs at that moment in time.

13. So, my current theory re: Mat and the dagger viewing is that he is going to essentially be the 'proof' for show-onlys that Min's viewings are unavoidable. Because Mat does not want to stab Rand and he even knows now that there's (essentially) a prophecy that he's going to do just that. And Mat stabbing Rand anyway, even though he actively does not want to and does his best to avoid it, would serve as a harsh lesson for the viewers and for Mat himself that prophecy cannot be avoided (my money is still on compulsion from Ishy, but we will see!).

Which is relevant to Mat's arc in a lot of ways. In the books, it was really frustrating how he thinks about how he'll run away from the DotNM if he finds out who she is but then once he's face to face with her, he basically rolls over and caves to fate pretty much instantly.

He didn't have to take Tuon with him when he escaped Ebou Dar. He didn't have to stay with the circus once he'd left the city; he literally could have just walked away from her and yet he inexplicably actively courts someone that he never, at any point, wants to marry (even after the final vows are said, Tuon's slave Karede notes how Mat looks miserably resigned to his awful fate), and fawns over her despite her being basically the lovechild of Suroth and Renna, in terms of characterization (Suroth's Mean Girl (TM) behavior towards Loial in this episode vividly reminded me of Tuon's Mean Girl (TM) behavior towards Egeanin; show!Suroth and book!Tuon both have the most fun in life when they have someone to mock and look down on and treat like shit).

If, in the show, he's already learned the hard way that some fates cannot be avoided, then we might get into a more interesting situation where Mat tries to find a way to make the prophecy come true in a way that still helps his friends, and tries to manipulate fate for the better. It's also a way to make the relationship somewhat more palatable for the viewers

Just... the whole way that Jordan played their relationship in CoT & KoD will eternally leave a bad taste in my mouth. Especially since WH set Mat up to challenge Tuon's beliefs. (though probably the worst part is running across that certain variety of 'Mat fans' who either don't notice or don't care that he threw away his morals in between WH & CoT and did a near-complete 180 turn on his attitude about slavery). It's just wild how much shit Jordan makes Mat swallow with a smile for the sake of this terrible prophecy marriage -- and other characters get covered in Tuon's shit too, because of Mat's choice to bring her along in the escape. Joline, Teslyn, and Edesina get tortured because of Mat's choice. Yeah. Pretty much any decision that Rafe & co make about this storyline is guaranteed to be better than the original version.

14. So Siuan coming here is basically the show's version of the scene from Fal Dara, given what we have of the set-up -- fourteen Aes Sedai making a traveling journey to a major city. But that is definitely worrisome news for Moiraine, given the differences in the show vs books.

15. I don't think that Alanna will bond Rand next week (it feels way too early for it) but I do think that the seeds of why she believes that he should be bound might be planted. It depends on if Rand gets publicly outed as a man who can channel & who believes that he's the Dragon Reborn. Because we do have those fires and potentially a riot going on in the Foregate in the next episode, based on the trailers. Rand may do something that 'proves' to Alanna that the White Tower needs to control him so that he doesn't destroy the world. Especially if he disappears from the city after the riot, with them having no idea where he disappeared to.

16. ...I am really looking forward to Egwene putting that damn collar around Renna's throat.

#butterfly watches wot #wot #wheel of time #wot on prime #wot show spoilers #wot prime spoilers #wot s2 spoilers #wheel of time s2 spoilers #wot 2x6 spoilers #wot book spoilers #a memory of light #cauthor

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dilucsflame33 · 2 years

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Donnie's Birthday Special! (Pt. 2) 🔥

Hello, everyone, and welcome back to part 2! Lovelies, I hope you like spice because it definitely have some heat! Like I said earlier, if you wanna be tagged, tell me and I will add you to future updates. Here's your Donatello's Mocha Cocktail!

🔞Warning🔞: NSFW 18+ Only!

Master & sub dynamic, pet play, collar & leash, slight breeding kink and feral Donnie.

Aurora handed Donnie his next gift from Tabitha and Raph, but the southerner stopped her. Both of them are confused. "It's for later." Was all she said as she laid back against Raph. Donnie was confused but soon brushed it off.

He'll think about it later.

"All right! I think the last gift is from my wife?" Donnie smiled. Whenever he referred to Aurora, it would be 'my wife' or any other romantic nickname. If he really wanna get into it, he would speak in a different language and that definitely rubbed some buttons.

Aurora handed her husband his gift. "I hope you like it, my love."

"Anything you get me, I will love." Donnie says as he tore open the purple paper. His eyes widened as he looked back at her. "Honey, was this the reason why you didn't want me to build one?"

The red-head soon laughed as she watched him get excited over a type of machinery. "And it's the new model. It even comes with extra blades."

"Mon chéri," Donnie says as he kisses her forehead. "Is it possible to have a crush on you?"

Aurora hid her blushing face against his bicep. No matter how many times Donnie would flirt with her, she would always be flustered at his antics. Just a simple touch from him sends shivers down her spine, and he wasn't even trying to seduce her.

Whenever he's working with his hands, his biceps flex when he has to move certain equipment. Donnie would stick his tongue out whenever he's thinking or super focused.

Oh, how she wants him.

To answer his question: yes. If it's him, if it's Donatello, she will continue to fall for him.

"Death do us part, my darling. Forever and always."

"Goodnight, guys!" Donnie says as he and Aurora waltz out the elevator, heading to their apartment suite. It was now the middle of the night and everyone was calling it a night. Well, mainly Splinter.

"This old rat is ready for bed." He claims. In turn, no one complained. The guys have an important mission the next night and they have to be prepared.

Aurora unlocked the apartment door and they walked in. "Did you enjoy your birthday, my love?" She asked as she locked the door.

"Oh, yes! I really enjoyed myself!" He says as they headed towards their bedroom. Without him knowing, she bit her lip out of anticipation. She has felt it before, but the waiting game was killing her. It's almost like he knew what she was feeling and continued to torture her!

Bloody hell, she just wants to jump his bones already!

Was that too much to ask?

"Now, let's see what my hothead-of-a-brother got me." The purple clad turtle says as he moved some tissue paper aside, took a peak, then closed it with wide open eyes. "No, he did not."

With that said, Aurora was curious as to what in the world Raph did this time. Donnie was having millions of thoughts going haywired. He remembers him and the other brothers hanging out, then the topic of intimacy came along and it went downhill from there. The red clad turtle always tease Donnie non-stop about his sex life. Donnie, being the utter romantic, wants to keep the intimate moments only between him and Aurora. But what Raph said struck a chord in Donnie's overworking brain.

"Women love dominant men. You have to take control, bro! They dig for that stuff! Give her the stare and walk slowly towards her, she's all yours for the takin'!"

But would Aurora enjoy something like that?

They never really discussed anything like that before. Plus, it's a lot safer if they discuss it anyways. It should be fine.

If he has courage to say something.

"What's in the bag?" Aurora says as she went to look inside, but he took it away before she could. "What's going on?"

"I-It's nothing, really, my darling rose. Just my brother wants to tease me, like usual." Whenever Donnie refers to her as 'darling rose', she knew he was beyond flustered.

Aurora raised a brow as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Donatello Moretti," He tensed as he used his name with her last name. "If you do not tell me what's going on I will walk out of this apartment, head down to Raphael's place, and I will confront him until he tells me everything."

He should have remembered a long time ago not to tick off red-heads, but it's worse when they used to live in London and flew all the way to New York City. But, man, does he love this woman.

"Raph was teasing me that I'm not dominant enough and I was overthinking, like usual, that I wasn't satisfying you like how I was supposed to. So," he drawled as he slowly reached in and pulled out a book, "he got me this book. I mean, I could easily look up anything on my own but I like to have more resources."

Donnie continued to explain himself but Aurora wasn't having it. She stared at the book and she's contemplating if she should be angry, or be blessed. Not the teasing though, she's definitely mad at that. But the book title intrigued her.

The Heart of Dominance.

She took the book out of his hand and soon looked through the pages, shocking Donnie to the core. His thoughts going a million miles a minute, he watched Aurora read. Page to page, then she closed it.

"I have a surprise for you." Was all she said. Aurora gently rubbed his arms as she raised his hand, placing a kiss to his knuckles. "I want you to take a shower, take a breather, and we'll discuss this further. If you don't want to, that's fine. But I do want to try something that has been on my mind, only if you want to try."

Donnie swallowed his saliva and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I can do that."

Aurora got up on her tippy-toes, but Donnie leaned down the rest of the way as she kissed his cheek. "You always satisfy me, my love. Don't take Raph's words seriously. You do what is right for you and me. He's not in this marriage and you are the only one that can touch me that way. Nobody else but you."

With those words, the man thought he was floating. He satisfies her! Aurora knew her words meant a lot to him as she smiled once again. "Get in the shower, my handsome genius. I'll be waiting."

And Donnie knows she does not like to wait.

With that being said, he kissed her passionately. The moan that left her almost made him not want to leave her. But he must. His lovely wife has another surprise for him and he has to be patient.

He pulled away from her with a smirk as he headed towards the shared bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Aurora swore he knew what he was doing!

She was literally screaming in head as she heard the shower turn on. Donnie doesn't take long showers, so she needs to hurry. Quickly heading towards the closet once again, she sighed as she found the white box. She pulled the top open and she bit her lip.

Donnie will break if he sees her in this.

Having the thought in her head, she quickly got to work.

Aurora sighs as she looks at herself in the full body mirror that was across from the bed. She has a purple lace mesh garter bustier set with thigh highs, also with a lacy skirt. On the bottoms of her feet as cat paws, add in the purple cat ears that's placed on her head.

She placed a leather collar on her neck that has a jingling bell and on the bed was a leash that comes with it.

What brought her towards this idea was she wanted to have a real cat. Donnie snickered and said, "Why would I need a real kitten when I have you?"

My, oh, my. . .

She was gone.

That scenario lived rent free in her mind for weeks, and she's going to live it one way or another.

When she heard the shower turn off, she went on the bed and posed. On her knees, spread and have her arms out. She made her palms look like "paws" and it made her bust pressed together.

Donnie turned off the light as he wrapped a towel around his waist, completely oblivious to the sight before him. "All right, my love, what's my-" His sentence stopped as looked up, mouth wide and hazel eyes trailing her attire. It's like the man stopped breathing!

With a wicked grin, she slowly licked her lips as she slowly crawled off the bed. "Happy birthday, master. I hope you like the outfit."

Oh, how her voice was smooth as silk when she spoke. It took every ounce of his being to not walk towards her, rip those lacy garments and just take her right then. But he didn't. He wants her to beg for it. Yearn for it.

His chuckle was deep, deeper than she ever heard from him. It made her heart race as he watched her continue her way towards him, hips swaying as she did so. Her small palms made patterns on his chest, then slowly reached his biceps.

Aurora gasped as she felt her hair being tugged, and she can't help but to moan. Her brown eyes looked at hazel and she could see the fire burning within them. His pupils dilated as he leaned closer to her ear.

"Did I give you permission to touch me?"

"No, mast-"

Her hair was tugged again, but with more warning.

"And did I give you permission to speak?" She shook her head. "Looks like I need to teach my pet a lesson, hm?"

With that, he pulled away from her and left her breathless. Aurora could feel her knees getting weak with anticipation and arousal as she slowly turned around to face him. He sat on the bed, his legs spread, leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Sit."

It was a command and she dared not to disobey, even if she wanted to.

She got down on her knees and sat. His smirk of approval was all she received, until his finger made a 'come hither' motion.

"Come."

His words are short and to the point, but it got the job done. She crawled towards him, almost eagerly and he 'tsked' at her urgency. "Already eager to have me, aren't you, my pet." He says as he took hold of the leash, latched it on the ring and tugged her forward. He heard her gasp of surprise and it drove him mad. Their lips barely touch, breathes mingling with each other. The anticipation was driving them both on.

"Tell me, my pet," Donnie says as he traced her bottom lip with his thumb. "What do you want from me?" When she didn't reply, he smirked. "Good girl, you may speak."

"M-Master, please! It's been so long since I felt you inside me. I need you!" Aurora whimpered out as he chuckled, making her squeeze her thighs together.

"Is that so?"

With that, he slid his thumb inside her mouth as she moaned around it and soon made her gag. "Suck it like you would with my dick. If you do well, you get a reward."

Oh, how she sucked it. It's not his cock, but Donnie swore he felt her mouth on him. His cock twitched as he watched his lovely wife suck his thumb like it was.

Her cheeks hollowed out, sucking noises were heard, and he could smell her arousal through her lacy panties.

"Stop." He ordered and she did so with much restraint. Donnie chuckled at the realization. "Are you seriously getting off with just sucking on my thumb?"

Aurora whimpered as she looked up at him. Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. "Oh, my pet. You're thirsty, aren't you?" When she nodded, he smirked as he slid the towel off from his waist.

Her eyes went towards her prize as she watched him take himself in his hand and stroked it, earning him a deep groan. "Gosh, Aurora, what have you done to me?" He calls her name as their eyes meet. The thumb she sucked on gave him some lubricant, mixed with pre from the tip, and wet noises were heard in his palm.

Her whimpering broke him as he reached for her and claimed her lips to his. Tongues, moans and growls were the only sounds in the room as Donnie picked her up and placed her on the bed.

Aurora never saw her husband so feral. Kisses, licks and bite marks are scattered across her neck as he quickly takes off her lingerie set.

Her head was thrown back as he went in between her thighs and completely devoured her. He drank from her like a man in a dessert with no water. Aurora was his only water source, and he's gonna drink every last drop.

"D-Donnie, please!" She begged as she reached for the sheets below her, grinding her hips on his face. His tongue explored her wet canal, then soon went to her clit. His finger entered her with ease and she screamed as he hit the one spot she craved to be touched.

"Come for me, my pet." He growled as he sucked on her clit and she came hard. He drank from her until there was nothing left. Aurora could feel her legs shaking, but whimpered as her legs spread even more.

His hazel eyes took in her pleasure-drunken form, putting the memory in his mind. He will forever remember this day.

"You did so well, my pet." He says with love and care as he kisses her lips once again. Aurora could taste herself on his lips and tongue as they passionately kissed.

He pulled away from her to retrieve the lube from the bedside drawer. No matter how many times they have sex, she will never get used to his size. No matter how many times Donnie prepped her.

Donnie added lube to his cock and the extra towards her entrance. She's already wet, but he added more to make sure. "Ready?"

She nodded as he swirled his tip on her clit, teasing her, then they both moaned as he slowly eased inside of her. Goodness, she's so tight, Donnie thought as he let her get used to his size but he didn't wait long before she moved her hips.

"Don't hold back on me, Donatello!"

She doesn't have to tell him twice as he pulled out then slammed back in, making the woman moan out to the heavens. Skin slapping, moans and groans littered the room. Both lost in the waves of ecstasy as Aurora held on to him for dear life as Donnie let his animal instincts take hold of him, the woman had her eyes rolled to the back of her head when he just pounded into her.

His hands were on her hips in a tight grip that would leave bruises in the morning as sweat glistened on them both as they screwed each other.

"Tell me who gives you this much pleasure." He growled.

"You, master, only you can!" Aurora wailed as he hit every spot inside of her dead on. "Bloody hell, you better not stop!"

"Wasn't planning on it."

They continued until they both came hard together. Donnie growled deep in his throat as his essence flowed into her womb and exited out of her. He never gets tired of seeing such a sight.

When he pulled away, Aurora groaned as she felt so empty without him inside her. She moaned once again as his finger entered her, like he wanted his essence to stay inside.

"Happy birthday." Her voice was hoarse from all the screaming, and all he could give her was a devilish smirk.

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dadddybangtan · 11 months

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Suck Torture | 18+

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cw: smut(!), cvm play, overstim, unprotected s3x, mentions of s3x toys, mentions of self h^rm

word count: 3k

I felt his cold lips peck my forehead through my hair and I shivered even more than I did before. I felt so weak, but I wanted nothing more than to disappear underneath his protection.

"I promise." He said with brooding strength in his voice.

He cradled my head in his chest as my tears failed to stop. My life had been threatened more times than I was comfortable admitting at the time. Falling from that window made me believe that it was truly the end. And the only one who could save me actually did. He was right there, holding my almost-naked body.

"Hyunjin," Taehyun whispered, "I think you should take Beomgyu home tonight while Yeonjun and I fix the room."

"Are you sure?" Hyunjin asked.

I was asking the same thing as I didn't understand why I couldn't be there.

"Yeah, I think it's better for him to be with you right now... Sure you sent Felix away, but there's no guarantee that he's actually gone."

That line put an anxious thought in my head. Felix will always be lurking. Perhaps one is likely to try harder when there's nothing to lose (not even a life) and everything to gain.

"You're right," Hyunjin squeezed my arm, "Are you sure you're okay?"

I lifted my head up to look at Taehyun. He silently nodded.

"I'll take care of him."

Taehyun was entirely right about sending me to Hyunjin's house. I felt so safe in Hyunjin's dark, candlelit room and big soft bed. I lied down immediately and Hyunjin joined. We were facing each other and he looked at me with only kindness in his eyes. For once, he didn't seem so distracted or preoccupied. He was completely focused on me.

"You're so intense." I said quietly.

"I don't mean to be. Intensity is in my DNA."

I chuckled at his charming joke. Despite that, I knew he was serious. He only ever cracked a few jokes around me and they were sandwiched between some of the most traumatic moments we've shared together. He was twisted. That's why I liked him so much.

"I wish I could know what's going on inside that head of yours. I can only get words and scattered phrases, never a full thought."

"Well, I was diagnosed with ADHD at a young age. I've been off my meds since I ran away," I admitted, "So honestly, I wish I could read my mind too... And I wish..."

I trailed off as my eyes fell from his eyes to his lips. They were full, pink and alluring.

"You wish?"

"I wish I knew why you liked me."

And his lips spread into the most comforting and endearing smile, hiding his deep red eyes from view a tad.

"I like you because you're good. You're good and pure. You're beautiful," He grabbed my hand and interlocked his cold fingers with mine, "And you give me something I could never give myself in a million years."

"What's that?"

"Your warmth." He said as he kissed the back of my hand.

That was the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. And to make it more romantic, I actually believed him. Even if he was lying, I would've been able to take that and pat myself on the back with it. He's right whether it's true or not.

"Last night, Beomgyu, something happened in the kitchen. It's a bit of a long story, but," He said as he slowly separated his hand from mine and held his palm up to show a rough, reddish mark, "I did this because I was craving your warmth. Craving you."

Sirens and alarms went off in my head. To say he was craving me wasn't the best choice of words considering the events of the last few days. My gaze trailed down his arm to notice that he failed to mention the clear bite mark on his wrist.

"Excuse me?"

"Not like that. I meant I wanted to hold you. Like how I'm doing now."

I stared at his mildly burned palm until he lowered it to a comfortable spot on my chest.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it didn't hurt that badly."

"No, Hyunjin, are you okay," I pressed, "You shouldn't hurt yourself..."

His face fell. He avoided eye contact for a moment while he circled his middle finger around a spot on my chest. He was thinking, calculating. Until he looked back up at me.

"I guess you're right."

"You've saved my life three times, Hyunjin. Don't forget to save yourself sometimes too."

His eyes bounced between mine and my lips. That was until he nuzzled the icy tip of his nose to my nose and flirted his lips onto me. They were soft and pillowy, perfectly pressing into my lips. I closed my eyes and focused only on the sensation of his kiss. I centered my senses on the delicate touch.

Suddenly my body completely surrendered to him. The hand that rested on my chest snuck it's way to my neck and tugged lightly on my hair. Our kisses became deeper as I wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him closer to me. He softly sucked on my bottom lip, but I winced at the feeling of his fangs.

"I-I'm sorry, did that hurt?" He asked.

"Only a little bit... I've never made out with someone like you."

"I've never made out with someone like you either," He swiped a strand of hair from my forehead, "Someone whose mind I couldn't read."

"Does it matter that much?"

"I don't know what you want from me, Beomgyu."

Oh. I was beginning to understand his logic. For centuries, he'd been the perfect partner because of his powers. He was romantically, platonically and even sexually flawless. All of a sudden, he was powerless against me. He was just as clueless as me when it came to the other's pleasure and desires. And honestly, his vulnerability got to me, making my heart beat faster and harder.

"Then just kiss me and let me take the lead."

His face, that was once so shy and unsure, glowed after I said that. He kissed me deeply, fangs muffled by his soft lips. I hummed in satisfaction before turning Hyunjin to his backside and toppling him.

I snuck my hands behind his neck and played with his long, black hair. He hummed into my lips and the soft, seductive sound had butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I sank my body into his even more. That's when I felt the throbbing bulge between his legs.

He put his arms on my back, fingertips pressing threw the fabric of my shirt.

"Do you want me as much as I want you," He asked, sliding his hands down my back and resting at my hips, "Because I really want you, Beomgyu."

"I do." I said as I dragged my hands to the neckline of his sweater.

Before I knew it, his hands were unbuttoning my pants and I was lifting up his sweater. I sat up and looked down at his pale, sculpted abdomen. Tracing my fingers along the grooves of his stomach, I felt my dick harden in my pants. I was silently begging him to remove them faster. So I tore his sweater over his head to reveal his bare chest.

I let my fingers explore his body, the chill heightening my senses. Hyunjin grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips.

"How do you want me, Beomgyu," He asked as he kissed my fingertips, "Something tells me I'm not as flexible as you are."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I think you're a switch," He grabbed my wrist and pulled me down so my face was hovering over his, "And I'm not."

"Maybe you can read my mind."

He smirked as he gently cradled me under him in a seamless move. He kissed me from my lips to my cheek, jaw and neck until he got to the collar of my shirt. All the while he was using one hand to tug my pants off.

"But," I said breathlessly, "It's been a while... So, I just-."

"I'll be gentle."

He successfully pulled my pants off and revealed my hard-on in my underwear. it was a vulnerable place to be in, half naked under him. And there wasn't a hint of regret. When his cold fingers traced up my thighs, I felt my body tense.

"But you have to relax," He whispered, kissing my thighs and inching closer and closer to my cock, "And trust me."

Hyunjin's lips met the hem of my underwear. His skin ship was teasing me so intensely, I thought I was going to explode. Then again, it'd been so long since I'd been touched like that.

"I trust you." My voice shook with anticipation.

He kissed my clothed shaft until he reached the tip before sliding down my underwear. He stared longingly at my dick. I saw his mouth twitch in want. I just said that I trusted him, but I didn't trust him not to hurt me during a blow job.

He slipped my length in his mouth, swallowing me without me feeling any sharpness. All I felt was his lips and tongue. And eventually the back of his throat. I gasped at the feeling.

"Fuck," I moaned, combing my hand through Hyunjin's hair to keep his head steady, "Stay right there."

And he did, letting my tip slide in and out of his throat. My hips bucked up and my grip on him lightened so he could breathe. I was gasping for air myself. His mouth was the most pleasurable organ my sex had felt in so long. I was left whimpering when he finally let up.

"Was that okay?" He asked with a perfect combination of sensual innocence.

"Mhm." I moaned.

"Can you reach under your pillow?" He asked.

I reached my hand up until it ran into a small bottle. It seemed I pulled out a very fancy bottle of lube. It was shaped like a human heart with a dark red tint on the glass. He took it from my hand and popped it open.

"Hyunjin, can I tell you something?" I asked as I watched him lube up his index and middle fingers.

"Of course."

"When I first came over, I opened one of your drawers."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah... And I saw those glass anal beads."

He chuckled lowly, using his dry hand to brush his hair back from his pretty face. God, he's gorgeous.

"So what? Do you wanna use them?" His question was serious and flirtatious.

"Not yet... Right now, I just want you."

He snuck his lubed fingers to my hole and traced the sensitive circle. I was quickly realizing how good it felt for him to touch me and how my body reacted so naturally to that supernatural human. His eyes trailed up my body, taking in my wet, throbbing cock.

"You're practically drooling."

"My apologies, is it not attractive," He asked cutely, slowly sliding his finger tip inside me, "Your body is perfect, I can't help but salivate."

His spit slicked my ass even more, but the praise is what melted me around his finger. I whimpered and whined as he steadily pumped his finger inside me.

"S-say it again. Please." I begged helplessly.

"Say what," He smirked, bringing his free hand to my dick and stroking it confidently, "That your body is so perfect, I think it was made for me? You were made for me to make love to."

"Fuck." My voice shook on the stimulation.

His finger penetrated deep enough to massage the most erogenous spot inside. Paired with his stroking, I was reaching my climax quicker than I had anticipated.

"H-hyunjin," I squirmed a bit, gripping the sheets at my sides, "I'm s-so close."

With that he quickened the pace of his stroking and eased another finger inside me. He fingered me so perfectly, fast enough to get me off yet slow enough not to tear the sensitive skin. Just when my pleasure was at its peak and my moans became more desperate, he wrapped his mouth around the tip of my cock. His tongue licked and sucked on the tip while he hand rubbed the shaft.

Overwhelmed with pleasurable stimulation, my body jerked and twitched uncontrollably. My moans filled the room, my legs were shaking and my vision was blurred from the sensation.

"I'm gonna cum." I muttered between moans.

And I shamelessly let my orgasm fill his mouth. It was the release I needed from all the madness around me. It kind of baffled me that Hyunjin, of all people, was the one to relieve the stress. At that moment, I questioned how we ended up there. How I went from an insufferable human, to the warmth he didn't know he was looking for. Though it happened to me in real time, I couldn't fathom the possibility of us being intimate like that.

He took his hand off of my dick and took down his pants while his other hand occupied my ass. He gently spread his fingers and loosened me up even more. His pants and underwear were finally off and his long, veiny cock got comfortable between my legs. Hyunjin spit the cum from his mouth onto his hand and stroked his dick.

"You don't mind me fucking your cum back into you, do you?" He asked so casually.

"I don't mind," My hoarse voice whispered as I reached my hand to his chest, "I just want you.”

I was ready for him and whatever he had to give me. He used his fingers to guide his dick inside me. I felt my hole stretch to his size and I grabbed onto his arms for leverage.

"Relax, Beomgyu," He said, crimson eyes piercing through his long, black hair, "Let your body get used to me."

With that I did what he said. I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding. It quickly became easier to penetrate deeper. And it felt so fucking good. The slow insertion allowed me to feel every pulsing vein and twitch. He took his time thrusting into me. Every push and every pull fulfilled desires I didn't know I had. It felt right to be full of only him.

After getting to a comfortable heartbeat pace, he lowered his chest to mine and hovered his face over me. He slipped his arm under my neck and held me close. I held him too with my hands on his back. I faintly felt a rough texture line the space of his back. I didn't question it, I just held him as he made love to me.

"You feel so good." He panted, resting his forehead on mine.

"So do you." I moaned.

His pace quickened. My moans got louder and more desperate, but I could tell that he liked it. He growled into my lips. That was the first time I didn't mistake his lust for me with hunger. Even when he let up from my lips, winced at the pleasure and exposed his fangs, I trusted him.

I brushed his hair from his face as he pounded into me. He looked so beautiful. His eyebrows were pulled together in want and he wanted me. He didn't break eye contact with me. He was throbbing inside me, I could tell he was close to climax.

"Beomgyu," He gasped, "Can I finish inside you?"

I nodded. Hyunjin thrusted in me even harder. My hoarse voice only got worse with how vocal he made me. The closer he got, the more desperate he looked. He rested his head in the nape of my neck, clearly letting his dick control his body. He was fucking me relentlessly and it felt so damn good.

"I fucking love you, Beomgyu." He groaned as cum filled my asshole.

My heart was pounding but I couldn't tell of it was a result of having sex or hearing him confess that to me. It was probably both, but the latter worried me. And I was only worried because that was such a loaded thing to say in the heat of the moment.

He pulled out of me and rested on my heaving chest for a moment before laying down beside me. He kissed my shoulder and wrapped his arm over me, still panting.

"Are you alright?" He breathed out.

"You love me?"

"Oh, you heard that?"

"That sounds like a 'no.'"

He grabbed my chin and made me face him. I couldn't resist his gorgeous face that had his hair plastered to his forehead by sweat.

"I do love you, Beomgyu," He said seriously, "I always have. That's not just something I say when I have sex. I mean it... But I am sorry that that was the first time you heard it."

"It's okay. Because I love you too," A sweet, close-lipped smile graced his face, "But I love Taehyun too."

"I know you do. And that's okay. I'm not in love with Taehyun, but I do like him a lot. Especially with you."

"How are you and him so cool about these things? Why am I the only one whose nervous about this kind of relationship?"

"It's okay to be nervous. But, frankly, I don't think you have to be. We love you. Let us love you."

I curled into Hyunjin's body and he held me in his arms. I silently wished that Taehyun was with us, but I knew he was a lot more prudish than Hyunjin and I. But if he had been there to hold me as well, it would've felt even better. Naturally, I just assumed that we would have our time together soon.

"All of this love talk makes me think though."

"Think of what, my love?" He asked.

"Don't you think one day you'll get tired of saving me?"

"Oh, Beomgyu, I could never get tired of saving you. As long as I can, I will," He kissed my forehead, "I love you."

#kpop angst #kpop fanfiction #dadddybangtan #boy x boy fanfiction #wattpad #hyunjin fanfic #kpop vampire au #vampire fanfiction #kpop au #kpop smut #beomgyu x hyunjin #txt smut #skz smut #beomgyu fanfic #suck torture

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kahlanmars · 9 months

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BAD FEELING part. 22

Hi! We are back in the cityyy! But I can't stop myself from writing Daymitch so... kisses and cuddles in the chapter too. Thank you thank you thank you!

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taglist: @crimsonincursive

22. Argent Bracelet

You don’t know how to prepare yourself for a mission. It’s silly, but you don’t know if it’s going to be chilly or hot and you figure you have to wear the jumpsuit, but it seems like not safe enough. They will give you some kind of preparation kit, or not? A bulletproof vest, a helmet at least.

You stress yourself in front of the mirror so much that Haymitch comes to hug you from behind, his face burying on your neck to place some kisses on it and bite your flesh. You immediately relax. He is only in his underwear, he must be cold.

«It’s not a beauty contest.» He murmurs, his voice is still rough from the night before and his hands are roaming through your body.

«Certainly not, because I know I could win that.» You sigh, hiding against his chest. «I’m scared.» You whisper.

«You are stronger than you think.» He kisses your shoulder. « But to lift your mood… I’ve got something for you.»

You immediately turn around, a lot happier than a moment before. For certain things you remain a child. Presents are one of these things. Presents from the man you love are certainly better. «A gift?»

«Effie threatened me. She insisted that if I had to chase her away from her room on a daily basis, at least I could make you happy.» He grumbles. Dear heavens if you know he could give you a gift because he wants to.

«I could argue you made me very happy tonight…» You purr before a kiss on his lips. «But I want my gift. And I adore her.»

«Yeah, that’s new.» He has always been a little jealous of you and Effie. Not romantically, just how close you two are. Although he doesn’t know that Effie likes women, or he would be a lot more jealous. You can’t wait for the woman to be out to torture him a little. That’s what he gets from listening to your mother and trying to stay with Marjorie. «Maybe Effie should give you presents instead.»

«My gift, sir.» You remind him. He tosses a little box at you, and you catch it with a glare. That’s not a proper way to give you a present.

When you open it, tho, you squeal in joy. It’s a bracelet. An argent bracelet - because you don’t love gold very much - with a little white daisy charm. It’s classy, it’s simple and beautiful. And it shines. You jump on him to kiss him properly.

«You like it?» He manages to ask you while you are attacking him, as there is not an obvious answer.

«It’s beautiful! I can’t wait to show it to Lora and Perla!» You put it on and watch him from every angolation. You are so proud of your bracelet. You are proud that he thought of a gift for you.

You didn’t talk about the L-word after you spilt it last night. You don’t want to make a fuss about it, because you are aware he can’t say it out loud right now, he probably doesn’t feel it that way about you yet. It’s fair, you’ve had more time to adjust, you like him from before, you’ve been attracted to him for more time, and now he is struggling with an addiction. Definitely not the right time.

«If you behave like this I’ll have to buy you something everyday.» He half-complains, but something tells you he is not at all that annoyed by your reaction.

«Thank you, thank you, thank you!» You repeat, smothering his face with pecks. You can’t say it out loud but he is cute. And a nice, very nice distraction.

«You deserve it.» He winks at you. You’ve been together for a while now, but when he does things like this you feel the crush growing.

«Thank you. I wish you could have something of me too. A token.» You think and think but you don’t have something that he can wear.

«Don’t worry about that.» He dismisses it. «We’re partners, you and I, aren’t we? You come back to me and that’s enough.»

You deepen the kiss and nod when you have to take a breath. “Partners” it’s a good word. This is a good admission. «Of course I’ll come back to you.»

«Keep it for the mission, ok? Don’t take it off.» He warns you, kissing your wrist another time but there is the bracelet now.

You frown. Oh, you thought it was just a nice gesture… of course the great mastermind had a plan, a tracker if you could bet. But the fact he gave you clues does mean he can’t tell you, not that he doesn’t want to …And it shines. And it’s a nice gesture anyway, the gift remains and it’s a daisy, it’s your flower. So he actually chose it for you.

You nod.

«Now kiss me before you go.» He demands. A demand you are so happy to please.

«Bossy.» You whack his hand, but you let him carry to the bed nonetheless. Maybe tomorrow will be a bad day, but you still have a few hours.

«Yeah and you like it.» He comments, so confident, so sure of himself, while he tosses you to the mattress and pinches himself on top of you, ready to make out like teenagers.

«It will be quick, right?» Effie wants to know, again. You love her, you really do, but you are scared enough by yourself, you don’t need her part too. She is frightened for you, for her children, maybe for Perla and Lora too now that she knows them. Must be hard to stay in Thirteen knowing you are in danger.

She is not supposed to be on the roof with the others. She is a political refugee, so she has to stay underground at all costs. Your mother too. You have no idea what Thirteen means with a roof, anyway, because there is still ground on your head, but it’s an isolated place where hovercrafts leave and it’s considered not underground enough. If there’s a good thing in this situation is that you’ll see the sun again.

«Very quick. As quick as I can.» You reassure her, and you smile at your mom. She’s very District and she is probably criticising the prim and proper Euphemia right now because she is making such a fuss, you have to be stoic. You think she’s trying to appreciate that she adores you, anyway. Little progresses. Baby steps.

It’s still weird to see them together, and you are sure they are about to argue on this or that detail.

You give a quick kiss on the lips to your non boyfriend, because you don’t want to embarrass anybody, but he keeps you in his arms, he deepens the kiss and he smirks at you. Oh, he is smug in public, especially since your mother is so against the relationship and he is petty like a child. And also this is a display for the soldiers, that you are his, and he is the Mockingjay’s mentor, so they have to protect you.

«I’ll miss you.» You whisper. Woods and liquor, you have to remember his scent. Remember mom’s baking. Effie’s perfume. You are doing this to free them.

«Yeah, me too. Don’t fuck it up.» You can sense he’s eyeing Peeta while he’s talking to you. Poor mentor, he has so many tributes in one mission. Two children, a non girlfriend and most of his closest friends are here.

«You don’t fuck it up. Behave with Coin.» You stroke your hand in his hair. «Don’t lose your temper too much.»

He nods. More than what you expected. «Do whatever Finnick says. I don’t fucking care it’s Katniss’ mission, she’s a teenager. Do as Finnick says.»

«Finnick?» You turn around to watch the others and you see Finnick coming to your group, dashing in his damn suit (you don’t understand why you look like a potato sack and he is handsome). You can’t resist running for a hug, after he hugs Katniss. It’s her turn to talk to Haymitch anyway.

«What the hell are you doing here? You are supposed to be on your honeymoon!» You scold him, mostly for Annie. Poor Annie. He lifts you up and turns you around, happy enough now because he just got married to the woman of his life.

«Killing Snow comes first.» He raises his eyebrows and that tells you that these are not his words. He didn’t want to leave Annie in Thirteen, not alone. You suppose Johanna and Effie can take care of her until you don’t come back. «What about you? Haymitch nearly trashed the headquarters when they mentioned your name.»

You cringe in embarrassment. You love him, you really love him, but he makes you appear like a coward.

«It wasn’t right.» You shrug. «And it’s not right that you are here.»

«A lot of soldiers in Thirteen have a wife, Dai, not just me.»

«Yeah, but…» But it’s not true. Finnick was the youngest victor ever, and since he was fourteen his life has been hell. He deserves some peace, he deserves at least a honeymoon in peace with his wife.

«Annie is pregnant.» He reveals. You gasp and hug him again. A baby! They are having a baby! A mini Annie. Or a mini Finnick. A mini Annie is better, there’s enough ego in the family. No, a mini Finnick would be perfect. But you could make little dresses for a mini Annie. Twins, you decide. They should have twins.

«Congratulations!» You are overjoyed. Children tend to have that effect on you. You are already planning the Odair’s nunnery, painting the walls will be great! “What walls”, is a question you will ask yourself later.

«Yeah, remember the time when I told you I wasn’t terrified?»

You laugh. «It takes a village. We certainly are.»

Your talking is interrupted by Perla and Lora, who arrive together. Cinna is behind them, maybe to talk about uniforms.

«In a hovercraft? With you? Again?» Perla complains, but she smiles at you.

«It’s nice, isn’t it?» Lora comments, and you can’t help but watch her puzzled. Did they tell her that this was a mission and not a holiday?

«Pardon me?»

«I mean, I would have preferred to stay at home, but at least this time we are allies for good, no reason to kill each other!» Oh, yeah. That is nice. You just forgot she is Lora and Lora is always an optimist. It is so her to find a silver lining.

«Oh, spend two days with Daisy and then tell me again you don’t want to kill her, I might help you.» The blue eyed girl retorts. You want to smack her but you are adjusting your backpack.

«Have you done some exercise since Thirteen?» She asks again.

«I’ve done a lot of cardio.» You point it out, and when they eye you completely done you just shrug your shoulders. «What? It’s true.»

Lora shakes her head. «I can see your point now, Pearl.»

When everybody is in the hovercraft the tension starts to build and the time for jokes is over. Katniss is very serious, you can still see the marks on her neck from Peeta’s attack, and somehow he passed the tests to be in the mission and he is here too. They didn't give you a test, you don't know if it's because they think you are not traumatised or because they want you to participate no matter what.

Finnick is here, Perla and Lora, Peeta and Katniss and Gale Hawthorne, plus the cameramen and a few other soldiers.

You start to see this mission is made of people that can die, the dispensable ones. The District is not very pleased by you, or by victors in general. Victors have demands, they want justice but they want it on their terms. They are reckless, irresponsible and they don't want to be in a cage anymore. Not the kind of hero Coin wants when everything is over, a too strong reminder of how it was before.

This is a little less than a suicide mission.

And when Caius comes in from the hovercraft door you have the confirmation. At first you think this is a mistake, he can’t be him, but he has the same blonde hair, the same eyes, the same kicked puppy expression. Hypocritical. It was already bad enough that he decided to punish you by not letting you go in the bunker but you are sure he saw there was another person with you, one that was limping.

Caius. Caius. They want you to go on a mission with the man who nearly killed you and Marjorie. A wound collector. And on top of that, a guard. Guards usually have guns.

But you didn't tell anyone. You didn't say it to Haymitch because he would have killed him and you didn't want your partner behind bars. You didn't tell Effie because you didn't want to upset her. No one knew except for Plutarch and you don't know if Plutarch did it on purpose or he just relocated him, then President Coin had wanted you in the mission and the rest was fate.

Fate sucks anyway.

«Are you okay?» Finnick asks you. «You are pale as a ghost.»

«Do you remember when I went into the bunker with Marjorie? This is the man who saw us and closed the door.»

You want to be sure somebody knows it, in case Caius decides to try and do something else because you crossed the line.

«Oh.» He brushes your cheek. «Are you sure you want to continue the mission? We can still… I don’t know, you could say you are not feeling well. Johanna is not okay yet and she can’t come, maybe you could…»

You shake your head. Tempting, but no. You are not going to pretend. «Now more than ever I need to keep an eye on the people I love.»

You are interrupted by Boggs, a tall soldier who begins to talk. «I want to say thank you to everyone who’s here today. The hovercraft is about to fly, but I want to introduce the team. This is Cressida, she’s a filmmaker and she comes from Capitol City, so she will help us in the city. Her assistant Messalla, her cameramen Castor and Pollux, from District Twelve Gale Hawthorne, and from District Thirteen we have the Leegs twins, Mitchell, Jackson, Holmes and Caius. We all know the remaining victors: Peeta Mellark, Finnick Odair, and of course our Mockingjay Katniss Everdeen, and the last participants of the Hunger Games: Perla Undertow, Lora Wimsey and Daisy Pinecone. Most of you don’t have a real war training, so follow my orders and everything will be alright. Now try to sleep for a moment, this is the last time you can. We will use the tunnels behind the city to move.» So no sunlight, again. «And every one of you will have a bulletproof vest. We will eat before the mission. Good luck.»

You do as he says and try to sleep during the flight, but it’s not the easiest thing. You keep trying to guess how it will be, even if you know it will do no good to you. The only time you’ve been to Capitol City you were in a penthouse and you are a little ashamed of yourself for thinking you liked the town. Not the people, but the town was nice. Now it’s filled with horror. And the tunnels… you are not keen to inspect the tunnels, you can imagine the rats, the snakes and other animals you really don’t want to meet.

When you get up, you eat soup in a little bowl and then you begin to walk. And walk. And walk. You have to walk in the dark because every light could be seen by the capitol guards (you don’t know why a Capitol guard should be in the tunnels below the city, but you are there so maybe he would have a point) and you basically follow the soldiers without questioning anything.

The tunnels are watery, with a lot of puddles everywhere and a smell that resembles awfully rotten eggs. You are not sure you’ll be able to stay in this place so much without throwing up.

After hours you are exhausted, irritated and dehydrated. Peeta is the one who gets it worse, he trembles and sometimes he slips into something that is not a coma, because he is awake, but he doesn’t listen to you when you talk to him and he doesn’t move anymore. It’s usually a few minutes before someone calls him and he wakes up. Still, I wouldn’t choose him for a mission. It’s a miracle Johanna is not here.

«How's it going?» Finnick asks you but you don’t want to complain. You are in the same position, and if the nation knows how much you don’t like to walk, you really can’t complain to one of the few people who always has your back.

«Breathing, for now.» You smile at him. «You?»

«I meant about the Caius thing.»

«Oh, I’m trying not to think about it. I’ll just avoid him, I think.» You don’t know how much you could avoid someone who is on a mission with you, but still you could try. You can just hope he is not your difference between life and death.

«Be careful.» Boggs warns everyone. You immediately freeze.

There is a difference between a generic mission and someone who tells you to be careful, because if you need to be careful there is something out there.

«There is something here.» He alerts you again. Soldiers? You don’t know how to fight with a gun! You fought with skates the last time. Haymitch was right, you are not a soldier, you shouldn’t be here.

«What is that? What is that??» What is that?

He yells and begins to run away scared. He means for us to follow him, so you begin to run and run in the tunnels. Sometimes you look back to see Peeta, Katniss and the others, but quickly you are left behind enough to see what is that.

Mutts.

And not wolf mutts like in the previews Hunger Games or snake mutts, these are… they look like humans. Humans without a face. Something between a lizard and a human, four legged, and they move skittish.

No, they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t dare experimenting on humans… would they? Capitol City would. Snow would.

And they scream. They scream so loud and high it hurts your ears. They scream Katniss.

«Come! Come!» Finnick squeezes your hand and he helps you into another tunnel, because you were blanked out, still, motionless. He has to move you physically.

You want to move, you crave to move, you desperately try to move but your body is refusing to help you.

This is how you are going to die.

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bumblesimagines · 2 years

Note

“ i’m scared to let myself want you. ”

“ i need you. and i hate that i do. ”

Anthony

“ i need you. and i hate that i do. ”

“ i’m scared to let myself want you. ”

Pronoun: He/Him/His

Anthony didn't know what to do with himself. Love was foreign and something that only caused pain. He saw how it destroyed people and felt firsthand how painful heartbreak could be. It was why he was so aggravated with himself. Not only for falling in love, but for falling in love with you. (Y/N) (L/N), his rival since youth.

Anthony was certain you were sent by the Devil himself to torture him. Ever since he met you at the age of five, you had been nothing but a pain. To make things worse, Violet loved your mother and considered her a good friend. Perhaps you had gotten your diabolical personality from your father, a man Anthony only saw on occasion.

Not only were you the most annoying person he'd ever met, you were also the most intelligent and interesting one. Your work-driven personality and witty humor made it hard to hate you.

Then, it happened. One afternoon, Anthony had been out when a storm stopped him from going further. The last thing he needed was to contract a cold and pass it on to his siblings, so he sought shelter in the nearest home. And it just so happened to be yours. The smug grin when you let him inside was enough to light every fiber in his being on fire.

It was then on that afternoon that Anthony picked a fight and you, as stubborn as a mule, didn't back down. Nothing but insults and sneers were thrown until the fight ended as quickly as it started. Anthony had realised that during the fight, he got closer and so did you, leaving only inches between his face and yours. Everything was still and without thinking, Anthony closed the distance.

But the romantic moment was cut short with the sound of the front door opening and a servant calling out. Anthony left without a word and you let him go.

Since then, Anthony tried avoiding you like the plague until his mother heard of him making a trip to the club and asked him to take a present to the (L/N) Residence. He obliged and quickly regretted it when you opened the door, allowing him inside.

"We should speak."

"What about?" Anthony questioned, handing the gift off to a servant.

"Business."

"I don't believe-"

"My word, just listen." You cut him off and huffed, turning and walking toward an empty room. Anthony clenched his jaw and straightened his coat, following after you. You shut the doors and faced him, leaning back against them.

"Nobody knows." You muttered quietly.

"Yes, well-"

"Why did you do it? Were you hoping to get a reaction out of me? Did you hope to.. blackmail me with it?"

"Heavens no! Why do you always expect the worst from me?" Anthony felt offended. He was a man of honor and a gentleman above all else.

"Because you only show your worst." Your response pierced through him and he swallowed.

"I need you. And I hate that I do." Anthony confessed, pressing his lips together and staring at the ground.

"I realized that.. You are my norm. I look forward to seeing you... Even if it is just to argue. You bring opinions and arguments to the table that I would've never dreamed of. You fascinate me." Anthony continued and sat down on one of the maroon colored couches.

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you, Anthony. I admire you. You've gone through a lot and yet, you haven't drunk yourself to death or buried your family in debt." You moved away from the door and sat on the other end of the couch, staring forward.

"I.. I'm scared to let myself want you. I don't want to care for you and yet... I do. It is why I act the way I do around you. One minute we can be friends and the next enemies.. It helps me be in your presence and it helps me hate you at the same time."

The room fell into heavy silence, filled only by Anthony's exhale. Two men with romantic feelings for each other in a world and society who would have them killed for the mere thought of wanting each other. Anthony turned to look at you and reached over to grasp your hand.

"I kissed you because I love you."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #bridgerton x male reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x best friend reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton

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justhere4kpop · 1 year

Text

~Beautiful Stranger~

Chapter 2: We Have a Winner

Pairing: Yunho x Reader. (The guys are involved at some point too but not romantically.) NonIdol! AU

Description: A lonely perpetually single grad student working at a museum is approached by a handsome man, he looks expensive. Maybe this is your chance to get swept off your feet. Maybe he wants something else.

Warnings: I don't censor myself so I don't censor the characters, so Language warning. Let me know if I missed anything.

taglist: @legohwa, @hwaightme, @starillusion13

w/c: 1964

a/n: A shorter chapter but I felt it worked well. Don't worry still a lot more to come!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been about a month since that date. I should really stop thinking about him, he obviously didn’t like it and that’s fine.

“Is it really fine if you cried for 3 days?” Becka looked at me.

“Well I can’t just force the actual man of my dreams to like me back, Woo said he won’t even talk about it…am I really that bad? Wooyoung told me he didn’t want to talk about the date…let alone talk about me.”

“No…oh babes come here. Guys are ugly and stupid, you did nothing wrong he asked you about work and you answered.”

“Speak for yourself” Will said grabbing a drink from the fridge.

“Yeah but maybe I went too in depth with what I do.” I sighed brushing my hair back. “I should just…forget it and move on.”

“You don’t have to. It’s okay to be upset.”

“I know.” I sighed and got up. “I have to go anyway, class project is due and I need studio space to work on it.”

I left putting on the coat he gave me…I forgot I still had it, if I see Wooyoung today I’ll give it back to him. I hopped on the train and put on some music, getting a little lost in thought for a while. A couple sat across from me…great…and of course they had to be as cute as they could, curled up into each other. This is torture. Modern Day Torture. Getting off at my stop I made my way down the familiar path to the school and went to the art space. I look down for one second to change the song and immediately run into someone sending myself falling backwards.

“I’m so sorry!” we both said in unison. I pulled my headphones out.

“I should’ve been looking, I'm so….Yunho?”I looked up to see the very man I was trying to avoid thinking about.

“Y/n.” he looked a bit stunned but helped me up anyways.

“Hi, sorry I um…I should’ve looked up I…Oh” I shrugged off the coat. “I meant to give this back to Wooyoung and I-”

“Keep it.” he waved his hand. “I have plenty and it looks good on you. Do you know which way is the art building?”

“Oh I’m…I’m going that way I can show you.”

We walked together in silence, I could feel myself biting back tears and words. This is actual torture. Thankfully the building was only about 5 minutes from where we were.

“Did I…Did I do something wrong?” I blurt out.

“Huh? No?” He looked at me confused.

“You just…you haven’t said anything and I..Yunho to be honest that was the nicest date I’ve ever been on and I thought you had a good time but if I talked about work and school too much please just let me know because I promise not to do it again if you’d just let me-” he cut me off with a kiss.

“No y/n..you didn’t do anything wrong, I loved hearing about your life. I still love hearing about it. Y/n, you’re all I can think about right now, your smile, your laugh…the way your nose crinkles when you laugh a little too hard. The dress you wore. How you look in my coat…it’s all so new to me that it..it scares me. I don’t normally think about things that aren’t my job and it’s been a long time since I went on a date and even longer since I had fun on one. It just scares me that I already like you so much.” his thumb rubbed over my cheek.

“DID I JUST SEE WHAT I THINK I SAW!?” The raven haired boy screeched. “YUNHO!”

Here we go again.

“I’d like to take you out for lunch if you’d let me.” Yunho smiled when Wooyoung left the room.

“I don’t know are you actually going to call me this time?” I quipped back at him.

“Only if you give me your number beautiful.” he chuckled.

“Promise you’ll use it?” I chuckled back and wrote it down handing it to him.

“It’ll be with my most expensive pieces.”

“Oh? Art collector even. I’d like to see it some day.”

“I have some pretty great ones up, you’d like them.” he winked.

“Okay you’re gross go away.” Wooyoung came back. “I step away for a minute to get some water and you two are basically fucking-”

“We’re literally flirting you’re so dramatic.” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh are we now?” Yunho joked. “I thought this was a pleasant conversation.”

“You’re the worst one of all, its like you think you’re some kind of pick up artist.” I giggled.

“Oh now it’s not that bad.”

“You’re practically one line away from ‘If I could rearrange the alphabet I’d put U and I together.’ buddy.” I let out a bigger laugh and Wooyoung fell off his chair he let out a laugh. “What’re you working on so late anyways Woo?”

“Oh just trying to paint that one you like so much. The Gaugain. Oil paints are so hard though I don’t know how he did it.”

“Here I can help, I know the medium okay enough.” I got up from my chair, Yunho had gone silent and pulled out his phone. Probably an important email, he said he works in business if I remember correctly. “Yeah what I like is that they blend nicely and don’t loose any pigment saturation when they’re dry, so they look the same, however they take a while to dry, but oil paints also instantly add value because they look professional. They’re also easier to use for beginners.”

“What are you trying to say ma'am?” Wooyoung looked at me like I insulted his little brother.

“You suck.” I shrugged and laughed.

“Yunho get your girlfriend.”

“Hey it was one date!” we both yelled at him.

“Only one? And you’ve been hung up on her for a month? Man y/n you have some serious game.” Wooyoung joked.

“He has not been.” I pushed him

“You haven’t heard him, I live with him.”

“You do not, you all come bother me at my house.” Yunho sighed.

“We have business meetings quite often at yours.” he received a swift punch in the arm. “Ow!”

“Your friends all work with you?” I chuckled. “I know the feeling it’s how I met my roommates.”

“Yeah, we all work together, although Wooyoung is just part-time through grad school.”

“I’d like to meet them sometime Wooyoung.” I nudged him.

“You’ve met San and Yeosang before.”

“Yes but you make it seem like there's others.”

“There are, a whole gang of us practically.” Wooyoung received another punch in the arm. “Stop hitting me!”

“Stop making us sound like criminals!” Yunho laughed at him.

“Okay okay. Geez now I can’t even lift a paintbrush.”

I spent some time trying to figure out what I wanted to make my piece for the end of the year. I wrote a few ideas in the notebook I had but I never seem to like them, I’m always so envious of people who can figure out what they want to do right off the bat, I didn’t even know I wanted to do anything art related until I was in high school, and even then it was last minute.

“What’re you working on?” Yunho peaked over my shoulder.

“I’m trying to figure out what to do for the showcase at the end of the year, we all put in a piece we work on the hardest and the department critiques it and yeah…you get graded on it too but it’s not like…I don’t know they can tell how much effort gets put in and stuff.” I looked up at him and his very close face. “Hi.”

“Hi” he smiled. “Any ideas so far?”

“N-No…not really.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something great.” he kissed my cheek. “How about that lunch that I owe you then hm?” he stood up and offered his hand

“Oh..sure.” I took it and stood.

“Where are we going?” Wooyoung perked up.

“You’re not invited.” Yunho looked at him. “It’s a date.”

“Lame.” he groaned.

Lunch was more relaxed than our first date at least, it was a cute little local shop that did sandwiches and a few other things, we took our food and went to the park and just, spent some time together. I could get used to looking at this handsome man all the time. We sat there and watched the clouds while he told me a little bit about himself, like where he’s from, how many family members he has, you know the basics, he didn’t specifically say what his job is just that he collects art and deals in business…he says its mostly boring stuff, not that interesting…sounds like he’s secretly a Mobster to me.

“What are you laughing at?” he smiled.

“You sound like you work for the Mafia.” I smiled. “Hey didn’t I say the second date was on me, why’d you pay for this?”

“I think I owe you that much for ignoring you for a month.”

“Okay fair but seriously..next one is on me.” I nudged him.

“I’ll hold you to it.” he smiled at me.

“Oh shit!” I got up quickly. “I’m going to be late for work, oh crap and my train already left.”

“Let me take you to work” Yunho got up.

“No no it’s fine I’ll…I’ll call them and tell them I’ll be late it’ll be fine. Oh crap I can’t believe I lost track of time.”

“Hey at least we had fun doing it, seriously…let me take you to work.” he smiled and took my hand leading me to that same very expensive very nice car.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure.”

“I can…at least get you in for free today if you’d like. We’re setting up for the new exhibition coming in town soon and…oh man I can’t believe I’m late.”

“It’ll be okay, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer someday.”

“Anytime you want seriously.”

He dropped me off and I made it just in time…for Liz to see me getting out of his car.

“y/n!? Is that you?!” she called out.

“Oh god. Okay see you later, don’t worry just…trust me you aren’t ready to meet my roommate.” I nodded.

“I’ll text you.” he smiled and looked at me.

“Yeah I’ll text back.” I smiled gently at him. He is really cute.

He drove off and of course here I am getting interrogated by my best friend at the desk while trying to do work. Oh god this is going to be a long day, she’s probably told Becka already and now I’m screwed when I go home, they’re going to be up all night asking me questions.

“Ladies, I hope you remember the Gala is coming up soon, company should be sending out invites this week.” Our boss Marcus looked at us.

“Can we bring a plus one again?” Liz looked up. “Will loves coming to them.”

“It’ll say on the invite but I believe partners are allowed, however if you’d like to work instead it is double pay that day.” he smiled at me.

“Well I-I might bring someone this time, I don’t know….he likes art.” I shrugged.

Who am I kidding I can’t invite him we’ve been on a date and a half, I’m just So SICK of everyone flaunting their relationships and not working couples events and ugh I just, I want to show that I’m not some lonely hag they think I am! I have a cute guy I’m talking to it’s not like I’m completely hopeless! I’m amazing ok!

I’ll ask him….eventually….maybe….someday.

Prev/Next

#ateez yunho #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #yunho #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #my writing #beautiful stranger

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goldazu · 2 years

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I made a slight mistake in the sentence(・_・;) The correct sentence is "the true inner childlike personality". (Or did that come across already?) Can I speak my true core thoughts? I just think that he can't possibly understand and accept her love that easily. I think it's kind of just a fantasy. On the other hand, I think that he who can be kind is already something else entirely, and that the people who love him do not love the person I know, but someone else. (I'm just saying.) I don't have a history of being abandoned by my parents, but that shackle is not something that can be easily clicked off by some girl who is someone else giving me love. It is a problem that he should spend his life to tackle, usually. And, if I limit myself to MB alone, I don't feel any love for her as if she were the Virgin Mary. Rather, she is not very understanding of his will. Is it because I am an insidious thinker? Unfortunately, the subsequent developments seem opportunistic. If true, "I will be betrayed again." the negative thought that "I will be betrayed again…" must always be somewhere in the back of my mind. Is it okay that DL himself is a fantasy? Also, he has a tendency to use violence when things don't go well, but it's a common theory that the lovers of such people will eventually run away and sue or leak. It's fine if you like that sort of thing (myself included), but we're just watching from the sidelines so there's no pain. Am I just thinking too realistically….

Well, this is just my opinion, that's all. Even if there are parts I don't accept, that doesn't mean I don't dislike him at all. But I often wonder what people who are different from me think about it. The sentence may be a little strange, but please understand.

Oh yes, I think I understand what you are trying to say. And honestly, I agree with everything you said completely.

People who suffered the way Ruki has should definitely resolve that trauma on their own. They shouldn’t wait for someone as patient and accepting as Yui to come and shoulder the burden for them. It’s the same of any real relationship, too. You don’t fall in love with someone because they make all your worries go away, or make you feel “whole.” You should fall in love with them because they bring out the best in you, and that means you should be in a good mental headspace for that to begin with. Obviously, none of these boys are ready for any kind of romantic relationship. If they believed in therapy, I would suggest them to seek help.

And it’s also true that people who resort to violence in any kind of relationship should be punished for what they’ve done, preferably in jail behind bars. Yes, you may be masochistic, but that doesn’t mean your lover should hurt you the way Ruki has harmed Yui. There are relationship dynamics where the lovers do consent to receiving pain, but even so, it’s usually in a very controlled environment and they have a safe word for it. If she says “stop,” then he stops. Or at least, that’s how it should be. No alway means no, but not in the DL franchise unfortunately.

I might joke around a lot about wishing Ruki could hurt me too but it’s all dark humor and I’m never serious about it. Of course I never want to be abducted, tortured, or kept in a dungeon for who knows how long.

But that’s precisely what it is. DL is a fantasy. To think realistically about it is always good, and we should always remind ourselves that it will always be nothing more than a fantasy, otherwise I’d be concerned for you if you had the same abusive relationship in real life.

And back on the subject of Ruki and his trauma, I do think he will always wonder if his lover will betray him. It’s a thought he can never completely rid himself of. His mother betrayed his father and himself, and I think anyone who experienced the orphanage, the homelessness, the starving on the streets until you can no longer stay conscious… They will definitely have deep-rooted trust issues that only years of therapy can assuage. I might romanticize him a lot on my blog, but I never forget at the end of the day, Ruki is a troubled soul who takes revenge way too far. He is blinded by his own rage, just like a child as you said before. Even if he is seen as one of the more strict snd mature boys, he definitely acts childish at times, so you are correct.

Thank you for sending me this ask!! I love these kinds of insightful conversations.

#almost-only-for-view #ask

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dancingisdangerouss · 2 years

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The last chapter was definitely worth the wait, I love how it turned out!

It’s weird seeing him soft like that, and it actually shocked me that he loves(in his own obsessive and twisted way) her 🤯 wooooo

Bruh, he tortured her&raped her&brutally killed her boyfriend before her and he dares say that he loves her and cares about her?! He should know by now that she won’t ‘suddenly declare her undying love and care’ for him-

And let’s not forget that part with the pills… 😬<:/ I’m really thankful you didn’t just finish the story like that (like I’ve seen in some stories)…and I don’t even know if she should have really died or not, my brain is filled with thoughts about Al-

I actually thought that he was a good singer too, it was probably a head canon in my head as soon as I saw him 🤷🏻‍♀️

[I love you, thank you for being awesome ✨💕 take care of yourself, lovely <3]

Thank you so very much!!!! I was stressing over it so I’m glad y’all liked it 💚💚

Oh yeah, I mean…who’s to say exactly what love is defined as? No one really knows for sure, and there are also different forms (romantic, sexual, familial, friendship).

So while I’d say most people would agree that love is kind/patient/does not hurt and all that, and that murder and rape are not in the traditional definition of love, you could make the argument that love can be a bad thing.

Obsessive love, for instance, I don’t technically see as real “love” by its traditional meaning, but technically for that person it is love to them. It’s what they perceive love to be.

Al has been essentially taught his own idea of love through behavioral learning from the way his father interacted with his mother (berating and beating her, then apologizing and soothing her).

And oh no no, I don’t intend to go that dark. As someone who has personally been through losing loved ones to suicide, it’s a tricky subject for me to tackle. Kinda therapeutic, kinda uncomfortable.

I also made it a relatively brief scene since I don’t want people to read too much into it/romanticize the idea of suicide (the concerned lover panicking and whatnot), when in reality, it’s a very sad situation of a victim reaching a desperate point to escape their abuser.

I’ve heard Ethan sing before, and he’s good, so I kind of just went with it. I can sadly imagine Al listening to old-timey records as a child with his mother, happily singing along until his father smacks the back of his head and tells him to “stop being a [insert unpleasant word here] and quit that girly shit.”

Thank you!! I am setting more time aside for self-care for myself lately and hope to maintain it 💚

#asks #penny for your thots #into the black #black acres #thanks!!

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sgt-lonelyheartsclub · 11 months

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I'm on my bed overwhelmed by my sadness and mistakes by my self-destructive and self sabotage and everything was fine i was doing well but im a neurotic and im always looking for something more never is enough and... there's when this painful moments comes why I have to look till I find something that punchs me deep and makes me regret makes me feel guit hate pain till I'm crying shaking rethinking who the fuck I am and why I did something that doesn't feel like myself(or maybe I am)

back again it's not like I will ever by sastifasted with myself even when I'm doing good even when I have everything I could have im thinking "you don't deserve this" "you're not good enough " "you have to try harder"

mind you, I'm just a 23 year old girl. I don't know nothing about life, but also, I should know everything something and I just want to be back when i was a little girl who had adults who made decisions and got scold if did something wrong but now im a half woman half girl who had to take over of her own decisions and man it doesn't feel well

my mind is a torture there's no peace i feel alone and well yes this age is lonely, but I wish i could lay my head in someone lap while they tell me "you did nothing wrong you deserve be happy you'll be fine" because sure that myself i will never tell me that

im also a pretentious little bitch that do something against my "morals" whatever that means ig and oooh boy i'm a awful can i ever be a normal person it is like my superyo is bigger and annoying will never leave me alone torturing mw on how i should behave ,etc but also its like i don't want to be that person who have these self-destructive tendencies that end up trying to hide a bigger problem behind promiscuity and abuse of substances that's not safe and sane for me at all and again this is a circule that never ends

what should i do? therapy of course but in the wait im here with my thoughts that is not a nicest place to be

i know for a fact that im over dramatic and also pretentious narcissist and self-centered egoist person guess I have low self-steem looking for other people approval

this last depressive episode that made me going insane (it wasn't nice these last days ngl) barely consumed food if cereal bar and water is considered food can't stop sleeping feeling a walking zombie I dont ever want to feel like that ever again it's not what i want for myself sooo yeah trying to write my thoughts with a bit self-criticism, i really i hope to get better

uhhhg i tried to romantize this ended with bad jokes yeah maybe im in my fleabag-mitski-black swan-kendall roy, etc. era

#rant #being a girl is hell but at least we look pretty #lol #im a mess

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llovelyletterss · 1 year

Text

ETHAN + A FNAF SONG? IT'S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU'D THINK! + a bonus

Fake knife and fake blood!

Tw/Cw — Torture mention / implication, kill mention, yk the average yandere tendencies

Ethan grit his teeth as he walked away from his friends house, irritated. Just who do (they) think (they) are.. trying to get with HIS darling? Are (they) insane? that must be it, (they) must be insane. (They) KNOW he likes them, right? (They) should! (They) SHOULD know.. (they) DO know! (They're) just trying to get under his skin, that's right.. just trying.

He slowed down to a stop, staring at the ground with widened eyes and a small smile on his face. '(They) might have succeeded.. but it doesn't matter!' Ethan thought, lifting his head slowly to look over at his friends house again. 'I'll just have to make sure (they) can't ever talk to them again.' A humorless laugh left his mouth, 'ever.'

Picklocking the back-door quietly, Ethan quickly opened the door and closed it as softly as he could, leaning against the wall slightly whenever he heard his "friend" walking near. He quickly took out a rag and a bottle of chloroform from his shoulder bag and stalked towards (their) room.

'This will show them.' He thought, a wide smile on his features as he walked up the steps to (their) room door, his mind racing the closer he got causing him to hesitate. 'what if it wasn't in a romantic sense..?' 'am I really going to kill my friend? What if I get found out?' 'I should control myself, why is it so hard?' 'I could just talk it out with (them)..' 'what am I doing?' '(They) deserve what's about to come, (they're) trying to steal them from me already!' '(They're) being a backstabber, a traitor!' '(They) would've done the same—'

He waited, pressing his ear onto the door and waited, getting silence in return. He grinned, his hand reaching the door and turning it slowly, letting the light from the hallway fill the dark room. 'Oh (Friend name)..' He'd hum in his head, his steps quiet as he makes his way to (their) bedside, already pouring some of the chloroform onto the rag and placing the bottle in his bag afterwards, fixing his mask.

"..Goodnight." He muttered, pinning (their) hands above (their) head and covering (their) mouth and nose with the rag, watching (their) eyes shoot open only to fight to close again.

He smiled in glee as they pass out.

Note > I don't know how ethan would exactly torture someone, so bestie this is all I can do

Tag list (only one person helpme) > @gender-mailman

#💌 . . . llovelyletterss #✉️— delivery!#Fake Knife.. Fake blood #Gachaclub Ethanverse #Tw/Cw — Torture mention / implication #Tw/Cw — Kill mention

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welcum2mymind · 2 years

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I still believe that what I wrote last night is plausible but what really makes me go crazy and always has since I can recall, was the meaning of life. What is life? What is reality? What is going on? What is the point of my life? Why is it this way, why is this happening? Why is my life the way it is? Why do I have these issues? Why can’t I remember anything? Why? Why? WHY? WHAT IS THE TRUTH? WHAT IS THE CORRECT ANSWER? I need to know the answers to questions that I’ll never know until I die, and even then will I know? I DONT KNOW.

I dont understand the point of my life especially when it has literally just been a constant never ending series of unfortunate events? Existential. The universe/matrix/god/simulation/aliens whatever it is; gave me one dose of a slightly less terrible reality for about one month during my 24 years on earth, from what I can recall; and since I can’t recall anything what I don’t remember does not matter as I did not exist, but what was that for? Hope?

But it ended terribly so it also ended up being an unfortunate event. However, I was allowed to feel more calmness & peace than I ever had before and I felt a lot of good things that I have never been able to feel again or at least to that extent. But anxiety was wrapped around the whole thing, and I was dissociated and unlike how i dissociate and have a few different personality changes week to week, day to day, hour to hour, I was not any of my personalities during this time, during this time, i was someone else, a personality I’ve never been able to be again, whoever she was is no longer within me. However, I purposefully made myself act and talk slightly different, I wasn’t acting like any of myselves. I wasn’t completely fake but I was putting up a slight illusion, a slight facade; as I was too scared to be completely authentic and felt I needed to put on a mask. I mask all the time but it’s not completely in my control and when it is I am doing it because I can’t be vulnerable. I mask to hide my pain both physically and mentally and I have done this so long I can’t stop it now. It is ingrained into my brain and that is how I am wired. The point being is, even during the time I felt the best I ever had, I still was not me and still needed a mask. So even during my least painful & least horrific moment in my life I still couldn’t be me, whom I don’t know, but I felt more like me…or maybe I just like whoever that was because I was happy but looking back now I wouldn’t want that to be me, I wouldn’t want that to be my true personality, the true me. I don’t like that she held her thoughts back, or that she felt insecure and felt it was necessary to act a certain way or to not act or say certain things,rather than being extremely blunt and unapologetically herself.

But why did they give me that experience? I don’t understand, yes I learned a lot and learned what I deserve and how I should be treated however I don’t have hope as no one will ever be enough for me, not just in a romantic way; in any type of connection whether that’s a friendship, a FWB, a mom, a dad, a sibling etc. No one can be what I need. The things I need are unrealistic and humanly impossible. But I also seem to not be able to be alone, I drown in my thoughts and lose my mind & myself. But I lose myself in everyone I meet. So I do not understand why this happened or what the true meaning and reason behind it was.

Everyone, I mean everyone disappoints me, due to my unrealistic wants and needs. If I could change this I would but it is not something I can control, what I need is unchangeable. And what my personalities want and think also change so I’ll never have what I need. Never have the only thing I want, need and would die for.

Like I’ve said before, it is as if this is hell. Existing is torture. I don’t know what’s going on and I’ve been trying to figure it out my entire life.

Existentialism.

#personal rant #existential despair #existentialism #sorry for being depressing #bpd stuff #actually dissociative #borderline personality disorder #memory #amnesia #personal vent #overthinking #overanalyzing #lost #hopelessness

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devilsfortea · 2 years

Text

love

is it asking too much to want to be loved? i am not talking about friendly love or familial love, but true romantic love. am i selfish for not being satisfied with my best friend, who brings me so much more joy than i thought possible, or my mother, who constantly reminds me of her love no matter how unlovable i may be. why is that not enough?

i hate myself for saying it, but i honestly feel that i would trade all of that for the love of a boy that i was in love with. i hate that. it is disgusting and embarrassing and diminutive and archaic, but it's true. i have always known it. the thing i have always wanted most in this world is the thing i will never have. and for reasons unbeknownst to me, that fact is enough to make me want to stop living, despite all of the other wonders of life that surround me.

i want to be loved more than anything in this world. above all else. i would give up everything else for it. i would rather die than to never experience it. i just wish that i could know now if i will forever be waiting for something that will never happen for me. i cannot imagine that the universe would be so cruel as to force me to continue living without ever offering me the love that i so deeply desire and yearn for, especially considering the torturous self hatred that has consumed my thoughts for what feels like every minute of every day of my life.

i want to be loved so deeply and so passionately that the one who loves me cannot bear to be apart from me, cannot bear to stop touching me, cannot bear to stop kissing me, cannot bear to...

of course i want to love just as deeply, but i already know that i am much too capable of cultivating such emotions. it seems i fall in love with every mildly attractive man that so much as looks in my direction. i hate that i fall in love so easily and so deeply and so stupidly despite the inescapable reality that no one has, and no one ever will, reciprocate.

i want to be one those women who does not care about men and yet unintentionally makes every man fall in love with her. i want to be someone that men look at and stare at and lust over. and i hate myself for it. i hate myself for wanting it and i hate myself for not having it. no matter what i do i always come back to hating myself. at least i'm consistent.

i hate that my desire, no my need, for the approval of men makes me hate not only myself, but other women. i cannot see the beauty in others without first reminding myself of my unattractiveness. and yet i always see the beauty in others, which means that i am always thinking of my own ugliness. i am jealous and spiteful and full of resentment for everyone, because when i am in the presence of others i cannot escape the overpowering thoughts about myself and all of my fatal shortcomings.

it is narcissistic how much i hate myself. i am so consumed by my self hatred that i must look in every mirror i pass, i must constantly take photos of myself, i must control the way others see me in every way i can, so as to keep everyone else from seeing the real, disgusting, unlovable me.

why do men never look at me? why am i so unlovable? why has an attractive man never so much as held eye contact with me, let alone considered kissing me? why has no one found me worthy of a declaration of love, or at least attraction? what makes me so unattractive?

the girls in my life have always gone out of their ways to compliment me, i guess that should make me feel better, but no matter how much they may deny it i know that they do it out of pity. i know they do not see a beautiful face when they look at me, instead they see an opportunity for charity. strangers feel so bad for me when they see my asymmetrical pimply oily face, big nose, small beady eyes, flat short body, etc., that they try to do a good service by complimenting the monster. an act of charity. that is all that it is.

but men are not so charitable. they see me for who i am and they will not be guilt tripped into feigning affection. they see the same girl that i see. they see all of the flaws and all of the mistakes and all of the embarrassments. they know i am not worthy. they know that i can never be loved. they know they should not even try. i am unfixable. i am damaged from birth. they know what i know. they know i will never get what i want because asking to be loved is asking too much. they know what i know. they know i should stop trying to defy fate, they know.

what am i supposed to do with this knowledge? i have had it for all my life, from my first elementary school long distance rejection, to my last senior year virtual rejection. 19 years of wishing i was wrong. i have worked tirelessly to learn from the paragons of beauty that capture the attention of men in romantic movies and tv shows. i have thrown myself into these stories and have tried with everything in me to be like these women. i should have known better, what hope does an ugly brown girl have in this world that only values white beauty. i have pushed myself to constantly appear casually put together and potentially attractive. i have worn short skirts and low cut tops, uncomfortable push up bras and tight spanx. i have covered my face in makeup, watched hundreds of tutorials, burned my hair to a crisp, i have cut myself whilst shaving more times than i can count. i have so many scars from the burns and cuts that i have accumulated throughout the years. i have practiced what to say and what to do. i have gone over every interaction i have ever had to try and learn how to improve. i have watched others tirelessly to try to be like them, to be normal. i have rehearsed my lines, i have edited my scripts. i have tried to be impressive, tried learning dance, guitar, karate, piano. i have tried to be smart, i have tried to get into the best colleges, i have spent years planning, i have spent nights writing and rewriting and rewriting. i have begged for contentment, i have begged for relief, but now i know that this was all for nothing. i have cried so much that i cannot believe i still have tears left. i have contemplated death. i have wished for it. i have sucked in for all of my life, trying to be someone that someone could love, but all i want to do is breathe. i do not know how to, and even if i did, what does it matter. i have tried so so so very hard, but i have failed. my existence has been 19 years of the world proving that i was right all along, i will never be worthy of love.

why is this so important to me? there is supposed to be more to life. i should care about school, about my future, about my family, my friends, but i don't. i would rather be beautiful than anything else. i would rather be beautiful than be alive.

what am i supposed to do. i wish i was beautiful, i wish i didn't want to be beautiful, i wish i was not so vain. i wish i cared about helping others or saving the world or doing something meaningful with my life. but i don't. i would trade any of that in a heartbeat for beauty, for reciprocal love. i wish i could just kill myself and stop getting caught in the same traps that i have designed for myself. i wish i could get better and never go back. i have had highs, moments when i actually thought life was taking a turn and things would be different, but they were all lies. nothing ever changes for me. i am cursed.

it is torture to keep hoping, to keep trying, to keep failing, to keep being disappointed, to keep disappointing others. it is exhausting. each time it happens i feel that i cannot bear it, that i cannot continue, yet life cruelly keeps progressing and dragging me along with it. and no one can save me. everyone expects me to somehow get better, or change my life, but i can't. i am powerless. so now i am looking beyond myself and hoping, as i always have, that the greater forces of the universe will decide to stop this train wreck that is my life by either ending the story, or adding a plot twist.

please, i am begging with everything i have, please give me romantic love or give me death. please do not keep me waiting, i cannot bear it. please please give me the reason that i need to continue living. please give me love, please give me love, please give me love. i need it. i cannot wait for some far off future. i have never gotten even an ounce of validation, not one possible indication of the love that i desire above all else. nothing. in my whole life. that is just cruel. people who do not even care for it have gotten far more than what i am asking. every single person i know has gotten some sort of sign of their potential for love, i am the only one who is truly ugly and unlovable. i know this seems childish and ignorant and superficial, and i hate it so very much, but love is the only thing i want.

my hope for love is the only thing that has gotten me to this point, and this hope has run out. so this is it universe. this is your last chance. please. give me love or give me death. give me love or give me death. please.

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amjustagirl · 2 years

Text

castles in the air: chapter 10

chapters: one.// two.// three.// four.// five.// six.// seven.// eight.// nine.// ten.//

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f! reader genre: romantic comedy, fluff, angst wc: 4.8k

Dating Kuroo Tetsuro is a dream come true.

You’ve had your romantic fantasies about him, certainly. The messy haired star of your girlish imaginings, your handsome knight in shining armour - but somehow it’s the human side of him that you appreciate the most. Of course it’s wonderful that he’s got a charming smirk and imposing presence that makes you lose all coherent thought in your (usually steady) head, but it’s the dorky, funny, playful side of him that you cherish the most.

“Why’re you even dating me”, you grumble, when you’re having a particularly rough day at school and feel like a mess - greasy hair, eye bags, warts and all, and he’s looking effortlessly put-together, despite being put through the grinder like you.

“Why do I love thee? Let me count the ways - “

“You got the quote wrong, please stop trying to lift pick up lines from Akaashi, you torture him enough for that -”

“Cos you’re cute, princess - “

“Liar - and you’re an asshole if that’s all you’re dating me for - ”

“My heart burns like a mole of suns for you - “

“I take it back, I think I prefer your cheesy literary puns -”

You get kicked out of the library for the first time in your life because Kuroo’s bark of laughter is far too loud to ignore. He’s an idiot, but he’s your idiot, so you give up and host study sessions at your place instead. ‘

Yua certainly approves of him.

She grins when he stays over one night after a project meeting that goes on for too long, cheerfully leaving a packet of condoms and a note that she’ll be sleeping with earplugs that night on the dining table. Kuroo turns fire-engine red and does not meet your eyes.

“Yua!” you hiss, shoving her package back at her. “Keep it for Meian, I don’t need it!”

“I bought a jumbo pack and was worried about using them all before the expiry date, y’know - cos Shugo is in Osaka and I'm sooo lonely - “

“Gods, woman if this is a ploy to distract me into taking them, this is not working.”

“I saved so much on shipping costs you might as well have some!”

You end up keeping the lot, even though Kuroo and you can hardly look at each other for the rest of the night, awkwardly keeping to your respective corner of your very narrow single bed. Yua doesn’t let up in the morning either. She pouts at you until you agree to fry pancakes for her, and takes the opportunity while Kuroo is showering to ask if she should threaten him should he do you any harm.

"I'm perfectly capable of cutting his balls off myself. Yua. Plus you're about as scary as a kitten, so I don't think you'd be of much help."

"True", she taps her chin thoughtfully. Then she brightens up. "I could send Shugo after him!"

"Oh my god, Yua, you can't sic your boyfriend on my boyfriend", you say, horrified. "That's not how this works, he's not even my dad -" not that your mild mannered dad would ever exhibit any protective, bloody thirsty behavior towards any of your suitors anyway, but that's besides the point.

"Why not?" Yua asks innocently. You know her well enough that she's actually serious about it.

"I mean you don't deserve to have your heart broken! You're good and funny and you make the best pancakes -"

"This is definitely a ploy to keep getting pancakes out of me -"

She giggles. "Well, yes but I want him to know that he's lucky to have you and should throw himself out of a window if he hurts you in anyway -"

"You're surprisingly violent, does Shuugo know what he's getting himself into -"

Arms circle your waist. "I'd throw myself out of the window if I broke her heart, you don't need to exert yourself."

You whirl around to poke Kuroo on the nose, frowning. "Stop eavesdropping -"

He only laughs, booping your nose with his own. "The bathroom walls are thin, yknow." Then he glances at Yua, who's gleefully watching the pair of you. "Message received loud and clear", he says to her. "I know I'm lucky to have her."

"I'm glad to hear it", she chirps. "Now, we should all go on a double date! Maybe a fall picnic, when Shugo is in Tokyo - that'd be super romantic, maybe Shugo will finally propose to me then -"

You just sigh and roll your eyes at her antics, dishing out pancakes to feed both your hungry roommate and boyfriend. You regret ever feeding them when they get along like a house on fire, trading stories back and forth about you.

Meeting the Nekoma team (again) is a goldmine for you, as meeting Yua was for Kuroo.

But before that, you’re not surprised that Kuroo asks you if you’d like to meet Kenma for coffee and apple pie at a small cafe they both frequent every Saturday afternoon before spending the rest of the day holed up in one of their bedrooms, Kuroo studying or reading his manga, Kenma playing or streaming games. You've heard so much about him, and despite Kuroo describing him as a gremlin-slash-cat in human form, the warmth in his voice when he talks about him tells you he’s very important to your boyfriend.

On first impression, he’s very different from your own boyfriend. In fact, the quiet, mild mannered boy reminds you a little of another dark haired boy with watchful eyes of your acquaintance.

"We meet once a month for coffee", he replies when you ask if he too knows Akaashi.

Kuroo chokes on his cappuccino, the milk froth shooting straight up his nose. Kenma bangs on his back with gusto. "Is that how you've been gossiping about me? I didn't even know you guys talked outside of camps! What else have you been keeping from me? I swear - you're like one of those cats who cheat on their family with another just to get extra food -"

You and Kenma share an exasperated look as Kuroo complains about being left out of their setter friendship.

“You were busy with Bokuto and Tsukkishima - ”

“Never too busy for you - “

“Says you -”

“Wait a minute - Akaashi was playing with us, how could he have been chatting with you?!”

“Maybe you were playing with a clone.”

You sit back comfortably, watching them bicker back and forth. Now you see that Kuroo’s propensity for childish banter was cultivated by his best friend. It swiftly devolves into a scuffle when Kuroo reaches over to ruffle Kenma’s hair to emphasise a point, and Kenma retaliates with a move quicker than he looks capable off, swatting Kuroo away with a used napkin.

“Gross!”

“You started it.”

You can’t help but laugh, the two boys turning to you - your boyfriend looking sheepish, Kenma impassive. “I’m not asking for much”, you say. “Merely that we don’t get kicked out of yet another public space for unruly behaviour.”

“Didn’t you stab Kuroo with a fork when you first met him”, Kenma calmly notes. “The team laughed about that by the way.”

“ - he deserved it”, you chuckle, as Kuroo folds his arms, pretending his best to look upset.

“She’s violently overprotective when it comes to her food - and oi! You weren’t supposed to tell the rest that! Yaku crowed for weeks!”

“Well deserved, indeed.”

You and Kenma glance at each other and smile. Kuroo stares at you both and frowns. “Oh no”, he cries, hand to heart. You and Kenma share exasperated looks at the antics of this over-dramatic fool.

“What”, you say in unison.

Kuroo’s face falls further. “You two getting along so well is a nightmare. You’re gonna plot and suffocate me in my sleep -”

“He snores by the way”, Kenma says, nodding sympathetically. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I know”, you acknowledge his nod with a tilt of your head. “It’s too late for me, I’m afraid.”

“The two of you are just evil, I swear - ”

The rest of the team give him even less respect but just as much affectionate teasing when you’re introduced to them. Of course, it doesn’t help that your idiot boyfriend forgot that he had a scheduled call with them, answering the video call absentmindedly when he was busy kissing a path down your neck. It also doesn’t help that the entire team is shocked into silence when they see their captain with a girl on his lap, never mind that you’re just making out like teenagers are wont to do.

Lev, you learn later, is the one who breaks the silence.

“Is...is that a hologram?”

You promptly yelp and fall off the chair. Kuroo stares bug eyed at his laptop but makes no move to turn it off.

“I don’t think holograms are that realistic, it can’t be. She’s….real”, Inuoka answers, looking shell shocked.

Yaku just groans as Kai looks triumphant. “Damnit, now I’m out 1000 yen, seriously -”

The fact that his teammates bet on his lovelife is what kickstarts Kuroo’s engines. “Seriously?!” he half shouts at the screen, turning an alarmingly deep shade of red. “1000 yen?! Kai, you gotta give me a share of that bet - I helped you win that.”

“Tetsuro!” you scold, as the rest of the guys burst into laughter.

“C’mon, that’s enough to pay for a bowl of gyudon at Sukiya, I’m a broke university student - ”

That initial encounter makes it just a touch awkward when he finally brings you to meet his team. It’s difficult enough for any outsider to be brought into a tight knit circle, and inside jokes and years of nostalgia and friendships forged to navigate, but you try for Kuroo, fussing about your clothes (a rare occurrence that’s smoothened with Yua’s help), smiling and nodding and trying your best to be a girlfriend he can be proud of.

But they’re welcoming, if a little shocked that anyone in their right mind is willing to give their captain a chance in the romance department.

“You’re really, really pretty”, Yamamoto tells you to your face when you say hi to him.

“I apologise on behalf of him. He hasn’t been socialised enough to talk to girls who aren’t his sister”, Kai gently reaches to shut Yamamoto’s open jaw. “He says that to every girl he meets - ”

“Play dating sims, that’s what I’ve told him, but he doesn’t listen.”

Lev guffaws, as Inuoka stifles a smile. “No wonder Yamamoto doesn’t have a girlfriend. Hey! We should start a bet on him next - “

“Lev, you asshole! How ‘bout we bet that I punch you in the next five seconds - “

The waitress looks over at the increasingly rowdy table with nervous eyes. Shibayama and Teshiro try their best to pull Yamamoto back, but those squats and deadlifts (and a pro-athlete’s training) has done Yamamoto’s raw strength some good. Fukunaga cocks his head.

“Mr. Freeze says - “

Kuroo looks horrified. Kai too. Kenma wisely stays out of the way.

“Fukunaga, where did you even find a bucket in the restaurant - NO YOU PUT THAT DOWN NOW - ”

You laugh, entertained by their antics as Kuroo and Kai corral them into some semblance of order, Shibayama and Teshiro being slotted in to separate Yamamoto and Lev, Kenma snorting softly by the side. “They’re always like this”, Kenma says softly to you. You somehow suspect he means it (somewhat as a compliment).

“I’m glad he has you guys as his friends”, you say quietly to Kenma, when Kuroo ducks away ostensibly to the toilet, but you suspect he’s stealing off to pay the bill. Kai will insist on splitting it, you suspect, and it’s a toss up who will win. “Good, real friends are hard to come by, and I’m glad he has that.”

It’s awfully maudlin of you, and you regret saying it when the chatter around you dies down and the boys all stare bug eyed at you.

You shrink back in your seat. “Um - sorry, was that too forward of me?”

Kenma begins to shake his head, but you’re startled by Yamamoto, who grabs your hand with tears in his eyes. “You’re so niceeeeee!” he wails, as Inuoka tries to shush him to no avail. Shibayama eyes the waitress nervously while Teshiro just sighs. Fukunaga’s fingers inch towards the red bucket sitting ominously next to him.

“Um - “ you blink, unsure how to respond.

“Kuroo senpai is our friend?”

“Oh my god, Lev - you’re an idiot, yes we’re friends - ”

Kai pats your hand with a warm, reassuring smile. “Welcome to the circus”, he says, eyes twinkling. “I’m sorry for the chaos, but we’re very glad to have you too.”

“Yamamoto would definitely be the head clown - “

“I wanna be the ringmaster or lion tamer!”

The debate rages on. Kuroo doesn’t even look confused when he returns to the table, bill in hand as you expected, despite his team being engaged in a debate on the roles they’d have in their imaginary circus.

“I’m the magician, of course - Yakkun should be on the trapeze, he’s small enough - “

“I’m telling him you said that -”

“He should be glad I didn’t cast him as the dwarf - ”

You shake your head at their antics. The waitress does come over to shoo them out, claiming that there are customers waiting for a seat though there clearly aren’t, but the boys aren’t phased, trooping over to a nearby combini to grab ice cream before piling outside to sit on the curb, by the quiet road. Kuroo comes over, leans his chin on top of your head, dodging without looking when you swat at him.

“Having fun?”

You steal a lick of his ice cream. He doesn’t complain.

“They’re nice”, you say, looking over at Kenma scowling in mock disgust as Yamamoto and Lev challenge each other to see who can finish three popsicles the fastest, Fukunaga acting as a makeshift referee. “They’re funny, and a little mad but I like them.”

Kuroo smiles into your hair. “I’m glad”, he murmurs. “I was worried their antics might drive you away.”

“You’re the worst of them”, you reply, laughing. “If I can put up with you, I definitely can put up with them.”

“I resent that, sweetheart”, he smirks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “Though I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“Oi! No PDA-ing, it makes the rest of us single folk here feel sad and lonely.”

“Only you, Yamamoto”, Kenma snorts. “Only you.”

Yamamoto wails again, for the second time of the night. “Kyannnnmaaaaa!”

Meeting your respective families is a little more complicated.

His grandparents, unsurprisingly, love you. To be more exact, as Kuroo tells it, lying head in your lap, a soft smile that you feel rather than see against the soft plush of your thighs, they’ve loved you ever since you introduced yourself to them at the first match in his freshman year. You suppose you’ve bought their affection with beef jerky and your evident care for their only grandson, but they make a fuss over you, forcing you to take home as much leftovers as Kuroo when you visit them on the weekends.

“They love you”, Kuroo says simply, when you ask him why. “How could they not?”

You don’t really have an answer to that, so you try to make yourself worthy of their love. Kuroo’s already a filial grandson, bringing them food, accompanying them on their weekend grocery runs, and while you hesitate to join them initially, they look so pleased when you meekly ask if you can come along that you slot yourself right into their routine.

“At least that way I’m not third-wheeling”, Kuroo laughs, as his grandparents link hands and hobble on ahead, looking absolutely adorable in their matching canes that they actually don’t need, but a little walking aid calms their family’s fear of a potential fall.

“Glad to know that’s all I’m here for”, you tease, but you link your pinky in his, following behind his grandparents to head back home.

Indulgent grandparents aside, your respective sets of parents are a little less easily handled.

Your dad, fussy school teacher that he is, is the easiest to please. It helps that he’s mild mannered and easily bribed with a bottle of good sake, alleviating your fears that he might turn his nose up Kuroo’s hair. You didn’t even have to whip out the story that you’ve prepared that the barbers in the vicinity have declared his hair untameable, and it’s completely natural.

Your mother, on the other hand, is cordial to him, but she doesn't warm up to him as you expected. Nothing seems to sway her, neither gifts nor offers to help clear the dishes seem to earn her approval. Though she doesn't explicitly say anything bad about Kuroo, her lack of tacit acceptance rankles.

You take her aside one evening after a dinner she spends uncharacteristically quiet despite Kuroo trying his best to draw her out.

"Do you not like Tetsuro for some reason, mom?" You've never known her to be anything less than supportive of your choices, so you don't understand her reticence towards your boyfriend.

She denies it, of course - but after citing examples too numerous for her to brush away, she takes your hand and admits that she's just worried for you.

"Tetsuro's a good person" you say, unable to see exactly what she's worrying about.

“I’m sure he is”, she says, with a touch of unease.

“But….?” you prompt her. She pokes her head out of your room to check that your father is still in the kitchen savouring a warm glass of sake.

“"You've always had dreams, ever since you were a little girl. You weren’t just satisfied with stories of princesses being rescued. You always asked me why they didn’t do more for themselves. And I can still see that little girl in you now with your dreams of chasing both a career and having a family of your own.”

“What’s that got to do with Tetsuro?”

“Relationships require sacrifice”, she begins. “It’s nothing personal. I just hope he’s someone who’ll support you in everything you want to achieve.”

“He will”, you say with certainty.

“I hope so”, she replies. “But then again, we’ll never know. Being a wife, a mother, a woman with a career - that’s going to be extremely difficult, and sometimes you may end up making compromises you never dreamed of.”

You’ve never thought about your mother, your father, their choices in too great detail. You’ve considered if your mother regrets the path she’s taken in life, staying home to be with you and your little brother in lieu of a career of her own.

“Do you regret it?”

Your mother reads the thrust of your question, doesn’t need to ask what it means. “My choices are my own, darling. My feelings towards them - I don’t want to influence your choices, because it’s your life to lead.”

You look at her quizzically. She takes it as her cue to continue.

“I just want you to be happy. That’s what every parent wants for their child. I just want you to be supported when you make your choices, and I hope Kuroo-kun will support you in whatever you do.”

It’s perplexing that she doesn’t see Kuroo the way you do - the way he beams with pride when you ace another test, friendly competition aside, the way he boasts about you to his grandparents, his friends, even though you tell him to stop. He’s your most ardent supporter, and you know it - you trust him.

“My dad’s like that too.”

It’s a quiet winter day when he admits this to you. You finally find the words to spill your confusion about your mother’s doubts about him when the snow is hard on the ground, and he’s tucked against your side, warm and pliant like a cat, taking a break from endless revision. Yua’s out, busying herself with some clinical psych trials that she’s enthusiastic about (but truth be told, you have no idea what she’s talking about when she explains them to you) so you have the apartment to yourself.

“He doesn’t like me?”

“It’s not like that”, Kuroo hastens to assure you, mouth twisting. “It’s just - the divorce was hard on him.” It was hard on Kuroo too - you know from the halting way he describes his relationship or lack thereof with his mum that his parents’ divorce has shaped the way he’s viewed marriage and romantic relationships in general. You know from his aversion to fights and loud arguments that the lonely, confused little boy from his childhood still exists, buried deep in his psyche.

“We won’t be like that”, you say, quiet. “We’ll figure things out together.”

He leans back heavily on the sofa, eyes pensive. “If I ever had kids, I can’t - I won’t put them through that.”

“If we had kids together”, you say firmly. “We’ll do better for them.”

Never mind that you’ve never discussed the prospect of marriage together before, let alone kids. You’re so young, both of you are so young, and there’s still so much for you to do before you even think about it. But you’ve certainly dreamed of it - with Tetsuro, dreamed of children with his laughing eyes and dark, rumpled hair, dreamed of coming home every day to him.

“How can you be so sure of that?”

He doesn’t look at you, gaze carefully blank, but there’s a catch in his voice that makes you so badly want to reach back two decades into the past, take his child self into your arms and give him a warm, tight hug. You imagine him, hair rumpled from burying his face in pillows, trying to drown out the angry sound of his parents arguing, the desolation when his mother leaves him, the realisation that he’s not like other kids, being brought up by his grandparents, his dad too busy with work most of the time.

“As long as we try our best, I know we’ll be fine. Life isn’t a fairytale - but - and I know this is a cliché, but if we support each other, and if we love each other, we’ll work things out. I’ll never - I won’t put my - our children through that either. I won’t, I swear I won’t. ”

“Promise?” he asks, catching your hand in his, grip tight.

“I promise”, you reply, bringing your entwined hands to your lips, sealing your words with a kiss.

The rest of your university years pass uneventfully, if sustained happiness can be described as that.

Yua moves out at the end of your third year, having completed her masters course at Waseda. She gets her long awaited proposal, Meian dropping onto one knee at the celebratory dinner you threw for her, surprising her both with an impromptu visit and a velvet box.

“Yes!” she shrieks, loud enough to deafen the entire restaurant.

She moves back to Osaka to finally be with the love of her life, and though you miss her dearly, you think it’s a very good thing that you’re not physically around to witness her ramblings and breakdowns about wedding menus and napkins and awful florists who don’t know how to be professional. Meian is more than welcome to handle her in this state.

Kuroo takes her place, and you spend the last year of university staying with him. He isn’t too bad to live with, does most of the chores with minimal complaint and makes really decent sandwiches. Minor quibbles about toilet cleaning schedules aside, it’s been smooth sailing, and you can imagine this - living together everyday in a little home with him.

The final year of university passes swiftly, most of it with you buried in books, nervously attending interviews with prospective employers, and it ends with top grades and a firm job offer in hand. Kuroo, too, places second, just behind you (which he’s proud of, as he should be), a job with a top marketing firm though he dreams of parlaying his marketing work experience into a full time role with the Japanese Volleyball Association - but that’s to come.

Both of you attend graduation hand in hand. He’s beside you when you toss your graduation cap high into the air, and his hand is in yours as you walk out of the campus for the last time in a flurry of white and pink petals. Your families have planned a joint graduation celebration for you at Fukunaga’s aunt’s diner, with the rest of your friends in tow (the Nekoma team have promised to show up, even Yaku via zoom despite the time difference), but instead of heading back to the apartment to get ready, he tugs you to Toyama Park, where you used to greet the sun together, meandering through flowering sakura trees to the seven eleven where he dashed in, your very own knight in shining armour.

“Are you being a sentimental old man again?” you tease, as he insists on buying you ice cream, never mind the disaster if you spill it all over your graduation robes.

“Always, when it comes to you”, he laughs, gallantly tucking a napkin over your lap.

You, his teammates, his friends, his grandparents - he’s a sentimental old soul in a young body, and that’s just another quirk that you’ve learnt to love about him.

The afternoon sun is warm on your cheeks, melting the ice cream until it’s a sticky mess in your fingers, and he clucks playfully, wiping your palms down with the packet of wet tissues that he always carts around, courtesy of his grandmother’s nagging. You let him, smiling fondly as he lifts each finger to check their cleanliness, before tucking the used tissue neatly into his pocket.

“Shouldn’t we be getting home to get ready for tonight?”

“Let’s sit here a little while longer”, he says. A breezle ripples through his hair, sunlight shimmering gold in his eyes. You want to accede to his request, but the demands of life start to tug at you, worry you.

“For what?”

“Tsk”, he chides you gently, thumb rubbing affection circles against your wrist. “Impatient as always.”

You shake your head, climbing to your feet. “We have things to do, Tetsuro…”

His hand is still in yours as he smiles up at you, sunshine spilling through the leaves, highlighting the gold ring that’s suddenly appeared in his other hand.

Your heart skips a beat.

“I wanted to ask you out here, y’know”, he says conversationally. “All those years ago, I dreamed about it, thinking it’d be romantic to ask you to be my girlfriend one summer evening, whilst the wisteria tree was in its full, violet bloom. Fate clearly had a different plan, or well - Akaashi and Kenma threw a very welcome spanner in the works by interfering, but I think now would be a good time to try and fulfil that old dream. Or a new dream, should I say?”

“What - ?” your voice breaks, voice shaking. You’re hopeless. You’re already tearing up. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’ve got plenty of dreams, and I’d like to make them come true, if you’d help me, princess.”

You play along. “Like what?”

“I’ve been dreaming of marrying you for some time”, he murmurs, his smile endearingly shy. He gulps, ears tinted pink but you sit back down next to him, wipe your tears away, nudging him gently to carry on. “I dream of working hard at our jobs, buying a home together with you - our castle for us to raise our kids, a cosy, warm, happy place for us to come home to at the end of every day, read fairytales to our little monsters and tuck them into bed every night.”

You take the ring from his hand, slip it onto your fourth finger. It catches the light when you lift it to the sun, a soft glimmer of gold.

“It’s funny how our dreams are the same”, you reply, your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, impatient to start the next leg of the journey with your chosen companion for life.

“Yeah?”, he asks, his smile impossibly tender, impossibly sweet. “Imagine the odds.”

“Yeah”, you reply, the rest of your words lost when he leans over, steals your breath with a jubilant kiss.

You are horrendously late to your own graduation dinner, but your tardiness is forgiven immediately when everyone catches sight of the flash of gold on your ring finger. Yua shrieks, jumping on you like a deranged limpet, his grandparents crying with joy. Even his father and your mother congratulate you, despite their earlier misgivings, and the entire evening is spent celebrating with too much food and you are just so drunk on love and happiness that your heart could burst.

There is so much ahead of you. A long road with many ups and downs, countless obstacles and bumps, but you’re not afraid. You welcome what’s to come as long as Kuroo Tetsuro is by your side, sharing your dreams about castles that reach from the ground all the way into the sky.

m.list.~ taglist.~

a/n: and...we’ve finally reached the end of the longest fic i’ve ever written! sequel to this fic can be found here (a look into their married life), and...i really hope you enjoyed it. thank you for giving this fic a chance.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #haikyuu angst #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu romance #castles in the air #storm chaser universe

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sortasirius · 3 years

Text

Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do. I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism. I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless. I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done. I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay. I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be. I break everything I touch. All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me. I am broken. I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is. I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing. I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative?

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain. I met an angel, he’s not like I thought. He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see. He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me. He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes. I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough. My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it. The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it. I think I should consider him a friend. Lucifer rises anyway.

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should. I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people. Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then. The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it. But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them.

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else. I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure. My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him. I feel guilty. We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul. The angel is back, but he’s no real help. I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons.

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies. Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes? I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look. I’m not sure why. The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven. Why does everyone leave me? The Leviathan are out there, a new threat. At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car. I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain. I feel like I’m spinning out of control. My brother loses his mind. The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts. When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do.

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel. We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me? We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind. It turns out my brother didn’t look for me. Why am I so dispensable? The vampire is the only one I can trust now. I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him. I feel like I can’t save anyone these days. I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy? But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him? I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here. My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him. We find a place to call home. I’ve never had my own bedroom before. The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him. He doesn’t answer my prayers. He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me. I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too. He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again. I wish I was lovable. I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got. The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright.

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him. My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly. I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother. I feel guilty about that. I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother. I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him. I use humor to hide how much I miss him. My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me. Well, I deserve it this time. I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad. I start to lose my grip on myself. My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late. I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes. I don’t care about anyone, anything. There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough. My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me. I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water. For a while, I feel loved. But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it. I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know. The angel tries to stop me. I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over. But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel. Death tells me I have to kill my brother. I almost do it. But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again. Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness. It scares the hell out of me. I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it. Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness? Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad? I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late? Why would he leave me like this? Will I ever get him back? My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him. I just wish I could get through to him. Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half. We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it? God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness. I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it. The Darkness doesn’t kill me. She thanks me.

My mother is alive. It’s everything I’ve always wanted. I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought. That’s hard. Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid. How will we kill someone innocent? I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to. The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him? We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it? The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us. I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away. The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me. Why does everyone run from me? We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer. He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real. My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is... I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back. You owe me this, please bring him back. He doesn’t listen. I’m alone. We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once. I hate the kid, this is his fault. I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time. I can’t take it anymore. Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be? How much more can I take? It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened. I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there. Maybe this time. We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom. I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him. Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it. I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it. I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever. I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule? I’ll take the ocean every time. The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words. The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late. My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier. I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more. I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger. Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head. God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along. Typical. He kills our kid. I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real. How can I believe that? Is everything I am just a story? Have I ever chosen anything? Does the angel really care about me? Do I really care about him? Another one of our friends dies. I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real. I meet up with someone I loved. He’s a monster now, I have to kill him. He dies holding me. I wish I was dead sometimes too. My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God. I’m spinning in circles. Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again. He gets taken from me. I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him. I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother. How will I choose? Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel. I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me. He must know. He doesn’t want me, no one wants me. Why would they? Chuck has taken everything from me. I have to kill him, no matter the cost. The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death. I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long. I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom. My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him. He talks me down, he’s the only one that can. I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage. I take the angel and we find her, she chases us. Another trap. I realize that I’ve trapped us both. Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me. He smiles. He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him. How can I tell him how he changed me. He tells me he’ll die for loving me. Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life. Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me. He tells me he loves me. I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late. He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now. I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

#so uh yeah idk what this is #dean #spn #my writing #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #im so sorry????? idk where this came from #I have never loved anyone the way I love him

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