#it's probably delusion but why's it sound like his voice is breaking a little.......... Tumblr posts

[whoregaylorenzo]

it will be strange not to see Santi's face on my side

[sttoru]

Omg could we see reader getting jealous of Sukuna having sec with his other concubines? And maybe liek the other concubine rubs it in readers face?

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive \\ smut aspects. size difference. one tiny mention of reader being a crybaby. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’ \\ kuna’s an asshole! not proofread, excuse the grammar. no part 2. wc: 3.3k

you’ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.

perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.

missing someone.

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

but of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face. she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses—the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame. she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it was a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare. both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists. you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out. sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm. there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material. he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh. you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation. you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru. he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence. you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room. your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle. “fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.

[revelboo]

Invisible Monsters

Lost Light Megatron x Reader- therapy

• Megatron is just tired. And over it. It being Rodimus. The co-captain currently on the bridge singing off key to whatever Earth music Swerve had spliced into the ship wide comm as Megatron slowly vents and reminds himself that he’s a pacifist now. So he can’t strangle Rodimus. Or push him out an airlock. Rising from his seat, he heads deeper into the ship. Toward the most irritating part of his day.

• And if it’s not Rodimus slowly trying to drive him insane, there’s always the rest of the crew. Especially Whirl. That one he can push out an airlock and he suspects everyone might clap. It doesn’t matter that they’re on a mission. An important mission. Unfortunately, this crew of misfits and pure chaos is always one second from shenanigans. His Decepticons had never been this bad.

• The latest shenanigan being a human that is now just on the ship. No one knew where it came from. Or, more likely, no one wants to admit that they had smuggled it on board at some point along the way. Which only raises more questions. Questions he isn’t interested in dealing with.

• Like whatever this is. Swallowing a groan, his optics slide from Rung to the human. More specifically the bright yellow vest the human is now wearing that declares in Cybertronian ‘Therapy Human.’ “Why?”

• Little face tipping up toward him at his deep voice, the human’s legs swing, heels thumping on the shelf Rung has perched it on. “Humans use lesser mammals for therapy. The contact is soothing to patients,” Rung says in Cybertronian.

• Ah. So the human has no idea what the vest says or what Rung has roped it into. Optics narrowing, he shakes his head and wonders what exactly Rung had told it. The mech was honest to a fault, so he wouldn’t have lied to it. Not exactly, anyway.

• “I believe we were discussing the gladiator pits of Kaon last time?” Rung adds in that infuriatingly soothing tone, crooking a servo at the human who obediently slides down from its seat to approach.

• And it’s accept the human as Rung scoops it up and thrusts it at him or let it fall and probably break all its tiny bones. So he cups his hands around it, hearing its sharp intake of breath and the strange feel of those tiny, soft hands touching his. “This is ridiculous.”

• “Humor me this one time. Now. Kaon?” Rung’s staring at him, his lips faintly curling into an almost smile. Waiting patiently.

• Heart racing, you settle yourself against the palm under you, neck craning to peek through the gaps in the servos caged over her. The first time you’d been handed to Whirl, he’d grasped you around the waist in those pinchers and amused himself by tipping you back and forth as he’d talked. It’d been a miracle you hadn’t hurled on him. The former warlord is at least being gentle.

• And his deep voice rolls over you, painting a grim picture of a brutal world you’ll never know. Of fighting for his life, heart-wrenching pain, and hard won victory. He sounds almost wistful as he reminisces, letting Rung’s questions steer the story. The first slide of a servo across your shoulders makes you stiffen for a heartbeat before you relax into the absent minded touch. You’re not under any delusions about your role. Playing therapy doggie for giant, alien robots wasn’t exactly dignified, but you didn’t mind.

Next

[hellofoxmochi]

Because I love forcebook and angst…

“So, do you love me?”

“Are you now consumed, head over heels, madly in love with me, Mew?”

Top was drunk.

He could barely lift his head from the grimy counter of that dingy bar he and his friends found themselves at two in the morning. His heartbeat that, only a few hours ago had been racing due to the loud music, the overflowing cheers, and the heat from other people’s skins, had slowed down abnormally, his vision had blurred, and his head felt like it had been detached from his body and is now palpitating on the crook of his left arm.

“How are you not drunk?”

The shadowy version of Mew in front of him moved his head a tiny bit to the side, perhaps inspecting his drunken stupor. That thought made the back of his neck burn with shame which was unusual for he had been in worse states than this one.

“It’s because I’m angry” The voice trembled a bit but it had an air of determination that startled him. Scared him a little.

“Are you angry because I don’t love you back?” It was a stupid line, really.

A drunk Top can be more stupid than usual which is why he had long ago taught himself to keep silent once the alcohol kicks in. But his plan was to not shut up. He needs to be his most stupid self at that very moment.

“I’m angry because you are a coward, you are arrogant, and you are a horrible liar”

“Is that the best you can do?” Another stupid line. Ah, you are bound to regret this.

“You are a disgusting piece of shit”

It’s probably just his drunkenness but Mew’s glasses had turned blurry enough to hide his eyes. Maybe the poor lamb is crying.

“So, will you stop seeing me now, Mew?”

“Can you handle that?”

Mew leaned in closer bringing with him that familiar scent and warmth that had been his solace over the past weeks. Up close he realized that the poor lamb was definitely not crying. The lower lids of Top’s eyes started to feel heavy.

“You know why people like me are attracted to bad boys like you? Because we have this delusion that we can be that special person who can make you fall in love and change you”

Mew reached out and brushed a couple of stray hairs away from his face. His fingertips softly caressed his sweaty forehead. It was Top’s heart’s turn to feel heavy.

“So you will stop seeing me now, right?” He managed to croak.

“No. I will make you fall in love with me” Mew smiled gently.

“I will make you my little revenge project and when you are perfectly in love with me, I will leave you”

“You don’t even know how that works. You will fail and hurt yourself even more” He barely succeeded in making the words sound less like a plea. His plan is breaking.

His plan was to drive the other one away even if every cell in his body screams for him to hold on and never let go.

Mew’s index finger swiped gently on his left cheek. “I think my chances are high”

His finger was slightly damp.

[homo-rashi]

Roommates (Original Work) Ch 1.

The Start of Something (contains Omorashi)

Read it on my Ao3 here: Link

Augustine truly did not think this through. When the idea came to him a few nights after his parents sat him down and broke the news, He thought he was an geneious! It would solve everything. Having to see his mom and dad go though the whole process of selling the house and moving out. Not to mention, alternating weekends with his mom…Right now and for the foreseeable future, he would do anything to avoid that. August could only imagine it being unpleasant at the least and mildly suicide inducing at the worst, if he is feeling dramatic.

Which he was, feeling dramatic that is. Something about the cold, silent air of August’s bedroom at three in the morning, The feeling of time being liminal, like nothing else exists outside of the four poster-ridden walls, always makes his brain think he can do anything, like suddenly out of nowhere deciding to become a five-star Chef by binge watching every single episode of bon-appetit test kitchen. Or randomly gaining the motivation to transform his physic two weeks before break ends by following a single Chloe Ting workout video, but skipping all of the jumping because well, it's three in the morning and his parents are asleep downstairs. 

This time however, his three in the morning delusion led him to his current reality. He will admit, going to his mom with the cheesy powerpoint presentation he made about why boarding school would be the best thing for him after he refused to talk to her for a week, was probably teetering on the edge of being manipulative. But at the time, he found little shame in his well-devised plan.You can pretty much justify any morally-unjust action when your Mom recently admitted to her sixteen year-old son and her husband of 25 years that she had been unfaithful in their marriage with her boss of all people. 

It all went a lot faster than he had envisioned. They broke the news during summer, that way the move wouldn't have interfered with August’s school work and thanks to his somewhat good grades and rather impeccable attendance record (Just because his dad didn't know about the cheating didn't mean being at home was all that great…His mom didn't cheat for no reason, and school was always a great way to escape hell for a few hours) He was able to apply for a scholarship and get accepted to attend the one boarding school he found online that was still accepting new students this last into summer. St.Milton’s Academy for Boys.

Getting to St.Miltons was already too much for August.. The stress of getting on a plane without his Mom or Dad made him restless. Having never left the west coast before, Jumping on a plane with nothing but himself and his duffle bag from summer camp, trading coasts to live in Maine sounded fake. But here he was, duffle bag in tow, his childhood stuffed shark plush hanging out of the mesh outer pocket for everyone to see, boarding a charter bus to take him to his new life. Actually, being just stressed in an understatement, August is terrified. 

“Augustine Harrington?” The scary women with the crooked nose called his name seconds after him and twelve other boys, who were definitely younger than him, offloaded their things from the bus and lined up outside the large, intimidating brick building adorned with gold cross embellishments knockers on both of the large black front doors. 

“Yes?” August sheepishly puts up his hand, of course all eyes gravitate to him, 

“A simple ‘present’ would suffice.” The woman says with a slight twinge of annoyance in her voice that immediately steals August's ability to speak. He simply nods in response. The woman finishes taking the roll.  Everyone else gives her a firm ‘present’ in response to their names being called following August’s blunder. He has never wished someone named Aaron Anderson would have been by his side more then in this moment… 

“My name is Priscilla Constentine, But to all of you, I'm Mrs.Constentine or simply enough, Headmaster Constance.I make the rules here at St.Milton and enforce them, so see to it you follow them…” The headmaster looks down the row of students, Her beady black eyes stopping on August. “The lot of you, besides you, are all freshmen. The head of your floor and the person who you will come to with any questions you may have about your living situation is waiting for you just past those doors on the first floor, you are dismissed.”

Augusts watches as every single one of the other boys bealines for the two large black wooden doors, disappearing behind them without even looking back. The Headmasters eyes still laying rest on him. 

“Follow me. Since you're our only new sophomore, I'll just show you to your room myself, no use bothering your RA for one student.” August once again just nods and follows the women through the same black doors, but instead of going straight, She abruptly takes a left, leading to a large wooden staircase. “The sophomore dorms are on the fourth floor, don't ask me why, I make the rules not the floorplans, and yes, before you ask, there is no elevator, this building was constructed before such frivolous things were put to use.” 

The trek to the fourth floor is less than pleasant. Still carrying his duffle bag on one shoulder, combined with the lingering heat of summer and the humidity everyone back in California warmed him about, makes for his entire person to be coated in a thin layer of sweat by the time they reach a door marked 301. 

“What the fuck! Come on-no your left!---Your other fuckin left you cock-suckin piece of-” The headmaster opens the door with out announcing her presence, the loud screaming from beyond it stops abruptly. “I gotta go.” August follows in her footsteps, taking his first glance into the room, seeing a boy with start black hair taking off a gaming headset that's glowing red. 

“Mr.Wright. I do hope you atleast completed some of your summer reading and chores before you started playing…whatever that is?” She motions to the computer monitor tucked away on a dark oak corner desk. 

“Counterstrike.” The boy replied casually, rolling his desk chair away from his desk and towards one of the two lofted beds taking up most of the room. “This him?” He motions to August, before bending down and opening something under his bed, and pulling out a large green and black energy drink. 

“Augustine, meet Maxwell, Your roommate and the constant pain in my side. Be nice, and get along. He is in most of your classes besides swimming, so i'm sure you will be more than happy to help him out when classes start?” Maxwell offers a tilt of his drink to the Headmaster, who just shakes her head at the gesture before making her exist, leaving August awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. 

“You can call me-Aumax” The two boys words intersect into one jumble of words,

“August,” 

“Max,” They both say, this time being able to understand each other. “Okay look, This is my side, obviously. There should be uniforms and shit in your wardrobe, I had to clean my shit out with very little notice thanks to you so If it's a little sticky, it's just from spilled booze, confiscated now, of course. Didn't get the chance to clean it, not like I would have anyways… but yeah, If i'm not back before lights out, cover for me yeah?” August can barely move out of the way before Max is walking past him, quickly grabbing a gray and blue suit jacket off of the back of the door and throwing it over his shoulder. 

“Hold on! What time is light’s out?” August asks quickly, his voice feeling tense in his throat, 

“Whenever our lame ass RA decides he is done studying!” Max shouts, halfway down the hallway. The door slowly creaks shut, closing out any of the cold air that the breeze from the hallways opened windows was letting in. 

August lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. The air that left his lungs was probably what was left inside of him of california. The reality of where he is and what he is doing seems to settle into the quiet loneliness of the dorm room. 

“Maxwell Wright…Sounds like a rich-kid name but…” August says to himself, looking around the furnished side of the dorm. The computer is clearly the main focus of his roommate's side. The desk has multiple empty cans of energy drink placed randomly, not a care in the world for the faded circles the cars have clearly left all over the dark stained wood desktop. Nothing about him screams 'vaguely religious private school kid’ besides his name. 

Random posters line the walls above Max’s bed. The largest one being a spiderman:homecoming poster, with Tom Holland front and center. August takes a second to appreciate his roommate's taste in movies…or more his taste in men. At Least that's why August has seen any of the Spiderman movies from 2016-present. 

August looks closely between both of their beds, noticing they share the same bedding. Clearly, it's been provided by the school. This brings his attention to his side of the room, and he decides its best to take advantage of having his room to himself for the afternoon. He wastes no time throwing his duffle down and stripping the bed. 

At first he thought he could get away with it. The color difference between his special white sheet and the default white that bed was made with aren't that different, but the texture is far too obvious. If he wasn't to make his bed completely one morning, someone would be able to tell the sheet he was sleeping on is more coated, rubbery and thicker. 

He begrudgingly puts the thin cotton sheet on top of his waterproof sheet, being only slightly annoyed that that means when the invendible happens, he will have more laundry to do then he would have liked. But he quickly accepts that hiding his nighttime problem is more important than reducing his trips to the laundry room.

He finished unpacking, giving his very sticky wardrobe a wipe down before placing his runners and shower shoes in the bottom of it. The only decoration he technically brought is his stuffed ikea shark. He decides it's not as embarrassing as a teddy bear and throws it up by his pillows, making a mental note to look for a magazine or two at the store (do they even get to go off campus to the store?) to get some posters to hang up. Feeling content with his side of the room for now, and feeling like his skin is going to ment off from the lack of air-conditioning, he decides he should have a look around and find out where a few other important rooms are. 

His floor seems to be all bedrooms. He looks around every corner of the large square building but finds nothing but wooden doors with gold number plates, the occasionally one having a funny/mildy crude doormat placed in front of it. There is a small common area at the top of the stairs with a microwave oven and fridge, but other than that, nothing.

He ventures down the next three floors and finds the same thing. The only difference he spots between the two is that floor three has different flooring then the rest, possibly due to a renovation that was done at some time, not what he was looking to find. 

When he gets to the first floor he spots his first sign of life. A guy with blonde hair similar to his is sprawled out across one of the large green sectionals in the common room. Immediately when stepping into said room he sees the sign for laundry. Not ideal, but better than it being in a whole different building. He would have to be sneaky, so as to not get caught running through four flights of stairs with soiled bedding, but it wasn't the end of the world.

“Hey! I thought everyone arrived earlier? Did you need help finding your room?” August is started by the high pitched voice seemingly addressing him. He turns around and sure enough, the lounging boy is now sitting up with a bright smile on his face. 

“Oh- No! I got here earlier, I'm on the fourth floor…” He awkwardly motions upwards, as if it's not obvious that's where the fourth floor would be. 

“My bad! I thought you were one of my freshmen, but still, Can I help you with anything or are you just exploring?” The boy laughs gently, standing up from the sofa and walking over with his hand outreached, “I’m Rowan.” August reaches out and introduces himself, the one question he has lingering in his throat. 

“Floor four you said? Were in the same year then! Sophomores are always freshman R.A’s, Juniors are Sophomore R.A’s, Seniors…well they are their own R.A’s but between you and me, they don't really do much besides routine candle checks.” 

“Candle checks?” August asks, not the questions he wanted to ask, but it's what slipped out in his curiosity. 

“Banned item. You know like Hair straighteners,” Check, August thinks to the red and blue mini flat-iron he uses for his bangs every morning sitting on his desk in his dorm currently., “Candle and incense,” He brought the lavender incense his aunt gave him as a parting gift to ‘help him sleep in the dorms’ when she found out he was coming here…”and like hotplates and other cooking things that heat up, Basically if it can make a fire, you aren't allowed to have it.” 

“Oh okay, yeah don't have anything like that.” August smiles awkwardly, Rowan doesn't skip a beat in keeping the conversation going. 

“Hey, if you do it's none of my business, remember, Freshman RA, not my floor…not my problem.” Rowan winks, August immediately feels less awkward and afraid, He seems normal unlike his seemingly rouge roommate. 

“Um speaking of floors, Where is the bathroom on our floor because I couldn't find it.” August finally asks, the words no longer stuck in this throat. 

“Oh! yeah…Apparently like ten years ago there was a bad flood on floor three that caused like thousands of dollars worth of damage to the building's old ass structure, so the only restroom is on this floor, down the hallway opposite the stairwell.” August looks back to make sure he heard that right and sure enough, he sees a small arrow pointing that direction with a small stick figure of a man on it. 

“One bathroom for…how many of us?” August asks, in disbelief. 

“It's really big! Don't worry! You only run into issues in the mornings for the first like two weeks and then everyone falls into a routine. You barely even notice you sharing a shower with seventy-five guys after a while.” 

“Seventy-five guys…okay I'm gonna go check it out.” August say turning around rather abruptly, 

“I'll come with you, don't want you getting lost!” August freezes in place. Red flags going off in his head. 

“No that's okay, I was just gonna take a shower, You dont wanna have to wait for me.” August lies, again. He figured he would be doing a lot of that considering his issues, but two times within the first hour is crazy.

“Dude… You’re sharing with seventy-five teenage boys. Trust me, you don’t want to do that without shower shoes and the school doesn't provide toiletries so you have to bring your own shampoo and shit.” August sighs, he knows that, hence why he has all of that and a shower catty he bought at Target shoved in his wardrobe. He would have brought them if he was actually planning to shower… But he isn't. He was planning on finding the laundry room and then having a quick piss, a quick piss he can only take if he is alone.

“Yeah, okay I'll be back then.” August says as friendly as possible, trying to distract from his obvious annoyance. He turns the other way, up the stairs deciding he will just wait. He isn't desperate, no. He knows better than to let himself get desperate in an unfamiliar setting, but he still just got off a long bus ride from the airport and indulged in a few in-air ginger ales to calm his nervous stomach. 

“Dinner is at six, Just follow everyone and you should be good!” The callout is faint from the bottom of the stairs, but echoes up the tall empty space. August doesnt say anything back, but instantly devises a plan. When he sees everyone leaving the dorms for dinner, He will get to pee in peace, without fear of locking up because everyone will be busy eating in presumably, a whole different building. 

The problem with that plan is, it's currently three. That means roughly three hours, give or take however long it takes for everyone to get out of here and go to lunch. August isn't desperate right now, but in three hours…The problem is that he doesn't have a problem. It's not like he is sick or has some sort of condition, well not one that would normally cause issues of his kind. It's just anxiety. From his pee-shyness to the bedwetting. It's all brought on by stress and anxiety. No matter what meds doctors have given him throughout the years, starting when he was 10 and was still consistently wetting the bed, none of them really worked. 

Sure, they took away the surface level feeling of anxiousness that he lived with constantly. That was nice, but he was still worrying, constantly, deep down. The bed wetting and various other bathroom issues never got better, if anything, the meds not fixing him like the doctors swore they would, only made him stress out more, in turn making everything worse. So he was stuck like this. 

It’s manageable. He has found ways around the bed wetting. At home he would often wake up just as it would start and could manage to get to the bathroom with only having to change his boxers. He wouldn't even consider that an accident at this point in his life. 

His pee-shyness is a little more tricky, but he has found solutions…ones that aren't so practical when you have a roommate. If his dad was cleaning outside the bathroom at his house and he needed to go he would simply go to his room a whole floor away and find the nearest empty fast-food cup or coffee mug he had ‘conveniently forgotten’ to take out of his room and make use of that. Nobody would ever think he was peeing in his bedroom so he could always, without a doubt, pee in there. It's only in bathrooms he has trouble actually going.

He instinctively looks around his dorm once he closes the door. The steps having jostled his bladder far more than he would have liked, making him realize he would like to not feel like this for longer then he has to. There aren't any cups he would pee in, mostly because they aren't his, He isn't really picky. There are plenty of energy drinks cans he figures if worst comes to worst he could use, it's not easy but he has done it before.

Knowing his roommate, Max, isn't going to be back until what he insinuated was going to be well into the night, August decides he will try to wait it out. If he starts to feel desperate at all, then he will use the can and throw it out on his way to dinner, disposing of any and all evidence. The perfect plan.

* * *

The perfect plan that depended on one thing. His damn roommate. The roommate who made such a big deal about not being back till ‘lights out’ who just so happened to walk through the door the second August decided he was past the point of desperateness. 

He admittedly waited too long. The want to wait till six was in the back of his mind, along with the anxieties about someone coming into his room, Mac, or an RA for a ‘candle check’ or whatever it was Rowan mentioned. Both sort of froze him with anxiety, instead of working through it, August chose to sit on his bed and scroll on tiktok for the last two hours, becoming increasingly aware of his legs becoming crossed, and then his hand slowly slipping between his legs. The moment he felt the first bit of wet tricking into his boxers, he jumped up and grabbed the energy drink can. 

“Hey- Did you get into my stash!?” Max, because of course he would, barged through the door, immediately making eye contact with August who had the empty can in his grasps, getting ready to figure out the best place in the room to pee in it would be.

“What? N-no! I was just cleaning up!” August quickly looked around the room, spotting a small metal trash bin under Max’s desk. He bends down and chucks the empty can inside it, trying not to squirm around as he does so. 

“Okay…In case you didn't get the memo, My side” He points to where August is currently standing, “ And your side. We don't ‘clean’ each other's sides, got it?” His tone was less than savory. August just nods in response, quickly going to his side of the room and sitting down in his desk chair at his empty desk. He watched Max bend down and plug his cell phone into a charge by the side of his bed, before plopping down at his own desk. 

“I-I thought you were gonna be out all night?” August asks, seeing Max grab to slide his headphone on and power up his gaming computer. 

“Phone died, would be bored as shit without it, plus, it's almost dinner and I slept through breakfast. Now if you don't mind.” Max slipped head headphones on, tuning his back from August, who immediately shoved both his hands between his legs. 

‘Okay this is bad, very bad! Can you make it down the stairs?’ August thought, Even if lunch wasn't for another forty-five minutes, He could just go outside. Find a nice secluded tree and water it. He decided to stand up- ‘no! Nope! Bad, Bad, Bad!’ immediately his brain and body decided that was the wrong idea because not a little, but a lot of warmth coats the palm of his hand upon standing. 

Panicked, He jumps forward less than gracefully, practically throwing himself onto the lofted bed and under the covers. 

“What the fuck was that?” August rolls over to look at Max who now has one headphone off and is staring at him with an annotated look. “Your fuckin weird, Are you taking a nap? You know you have to go get dinner when they say right? You can't just go to the cafeteria whenever you want.”

“jetlag…I'm not hungry, just gonna have extra breakfast tomorrow.” August feels very, very proud of that lie. His best one of the day. He is just glad he got under the covers before Max was turned around because his hands are the only thing keeping him from squirming around like an idiot. 

“Where are you even from anyways?” Max asks, August does not want to talk right now, He wants to pee, He needs to pee. 

“San Diego, it's a town in Califor-” 

“I know where San Diego fuckin is-Wait, doesnt that make it like what, 2:00pm there? Shouldn't you be the opposite of Jetlagged?” August curses under his breath, That is true, He searches for an answer and finds it staring right at him, behind Max, 

“I stayed up late gaming the last few weeks with my friends, my sleep schedule is all messed up.” August does not in fact play any videos games, if anything they make him anxious and a little nauseous. 

“Oh, well, Fix it because I'm not gonna wait for you if you sleep in next week when classes start.” Max turns his attention back to his game, slipping his headphones back on. 

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is bad. He isn't gonna leave until dinner? What should I do? I can't hold it that long and I can't walk all the way downstairs to the bathroom like this!’ August panicked, Internally freaking out while laying completely still under his covers in his bed…

‘Piss in the bed.’ His brain leapt at the idea, causing his body to force a long spurt out of him, this time no doubt showing on his clothes. Now he really can’t get up…But he couldn't just wet the bed while awake…He doesn't do that. Sure while he is asleep it happens, more than he would like to admit but doing it on purpose, that is a whole nother level of terrible. 

He rolls over so his back is facing away from Max after making sure he looked like he was really into whatever game he was playing. 

‘If I pee I have to do it slowly and make sure it doesn't get on the comforter, only the sheets.” August reasons with himself, because realistically, it's his only option. He spends another few minutes deciding if he should actually take himself out of his jeans and piss directly into the sheets, but decides he already has to wash his pants so he might as well use them to soak up some of the accident. 

With nothing but the sound of his roommates tapping away at his keyboard, August slowly removes his hands from between his legs. At first, when nothing happens he thinks either he misjudges how desperate he actually is or his pee-shyness that only exists inside the restroom extends to peeing while in a bed with someone in the room, something he has obviously never tried to do before. Both theories are thrown out the window when a thin stream starts to leave his slit. 

August bites down on his lip, trying to get control over the speed of his release. He can feel his pee soaking into his pants and then his leg and then the thin cotton sheet. Usually when he wets the bed like this, he is asleep and only wakes up to the smell of ammonia and the uncomfortable cold wet feeling that comes after, he has never felt himself actually fully wet the bed.

It's painful. It's actually painful to release his abused bladder as slowly as he is, but the waterproof sheet does not absorb much, that's kinda the whole point. So he has to wait for his accident to spread out and be absorbed by the sheets to avoid it pooling and getting on the comforter or worse, spilling off the side of the bed. 

After a few minor lapses in control causing him to release far more than he meant to, he finally started to feel relief. It feels amazing. It shouldn't because of the circumstance, but he really left it far too long this time. He is usually better about this, or well, back home it was easier to go if he let it get this bad…here he is realizing that it's not considering he is actively purposefully using his bed as a makeshift toilet, something he doesn't ever want to do again.

He finally feels his stream beginning to taper off. When he is finally done, he feels the familiar feeling of cold, itchiness up his legs. He can almost pinpoint the exact moment he usually wakes up from the discomfort. It's slightly disheartening how soon after his accidents he must be waking up. He always thought it must have been hours ago he had wet the bed and only noticed when his body started to wake up. Its annoying to know he was waking up less than a minute after pissing himself, meaning it could be avoidable if his dumb brain would just wake him up. 

“You awake?” August stifles a jump at the quiet of the room suddenly becoming not so quiet. He doesn't respond, immediately slamming his eyes shut. He hears a few sounds followed by a faint dial tone. “G, I’m on my way— No, it still needs to be charged. I’ll have to get it after dinner.---- No! fuckin lame ass you dont have to save me a seat, what are you a fuckin fag? wanna hold my hand too?---- yeah, no.----Shut the fuck up, i'll be down in a sec.” A few seconds later and August hears the door slam shut. 

‘Shit. He is homophobic??? He has the spiderman poster because he genuinely likes Marvel movies not because Tom Holland has a great ass… He didn't think he would have to deal with Homophobia as much here, considering it's an all boys school…He mentally notes that his sexuality is now on the long list of things he has to lie to people about at this school. 

His bout of self pitying is pushed aside when he realises just how gross he feels and he starts to actually smell the fact that he is covered in his own pee. His mind switches its train of thought instantly, when he looks over and see’s Max’s phone sitting on his desk on the charger but he remains Frozen in place wondering just how the hell he is gonna do all of this laundry and remake his bed before Max gets back from dinner…

[animatedrapture]

"VORFREUDE."

Summary: Sakusa thinks of you as his vorfreude, his intense anticipation from imagining future pleasures. He swears it's not mere delusions.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader / slight Komori Motoya x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Genre & Content Warnings: Slight angst. NSFW. Dark content. Yandere behavior. Porn with Plot. Incel/Bully!Sakusa. Virgin!Reader. Abuse. Non-con. Blackmail. Coercion. Misogyny. Slut-shaming. Slight manipulation and mindbreak. Fingering. Corruption. Defloration. Degradation. Vaginal penetration. Creampie.

Notes: Thank you soooo much to the lovely anon who commissioned this! Took a lot longer than it should've cause academics kept cutting in & joint with my anxiety. But yeah, thank you so much :') Thank you Faiwy for the final beta !! <3

If you're thinking about commissioning me, please refer to this post.

You’re a constant, Sakusa thinks.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been following him and Komori like a lost puppy—whenever they were, you were sure to be there. He can’t think far back enough to remember when it started, but you were insignia of constancy, that was all Sakusa knew.

He listens intently while you talk to Komori from beside him, voice low and stumbling over your words every so often—he knows you're going out of your way to avoid saying something he could use to pull you apart with, piece by piece like a frail little toy.

"How did the test from yesterday go?" Komori questions you, right as your trio made it to the cafeteria.

Your easy-going smile falters at the mention of it. Sakusa already knows the answer. He shares that class with you, after all. He had the front row seat to see your face flushed with humiliation and how rigid your body grew when the professor told you Sakusa would be tutoring you.

Reminding him that out of everything about you, the way you wore your heart on your sleeve is something that insistently rubbed him the wrong way.

First, because he starts thinking about how easy you make it for people to take advantage of you; it makes his blood boil. Then, he starts thinking about every reaction he could get out of you, like how you'd look from beneath him as he used your body the way you wanted him to.

Because you do, don't you? Why else would you go out of your way to adjust to his habits? To carry around your personal sanitizer and wipes, always making sure the space you were in with them was clean.

Nothing else could explain how you strung along with them like loose thread.

It tugs at the heart beneath his ribcage—but whenever he sees you give all your attention to Komori, the betrayal sinks in, and he's reminded what kind of a woman you are.

A whore.

As you laughed nervously, taking a seat across from them, Sakusa wonders if you're having fun, wonders if for a moment you're riddled with guilt as you flirt with his cousin and him at the same time, in the same breath.

"N-no, it didn't turn out very well," you admit in between stutters, embarrassment creeping back in.

Komori frowns empathetically, "I could help you, you know—"

The sparkle in your eyes is quick to appear. God, you're so cunning. It makes Sakusa consider that maybe you failed the test on purpose, thinking this would happen—but that would be giving you more credit than due. You're just a dumb little girl.

"I'm already tutoring them," Sakusa interrupts, and he's unsure whether to be delighted or angered at the way your face falls sullen.

"O-oh right, but—but I'd love to get your help, Motoya-kun—"

The scoff Sakusa lets out is loud, loud enough to make you wince. "You're dumb enough as it is, you don't need distractions," his words come slicing like knife. You sink in your seat.

Komori laughs awkwardly, giving you a smile—sheepish and apologetic—he's so kind, he's always so kind.

Sometimes you wonder how they're actually cousins; until you're reminded that Sakusa hadn't always been this mean to you. He had always been cautious, but he wasn't ever mean like he was out to get you at every ragged edge.

Somehow, though, the closer you got to him—past his defenses and indifference towards you—the meaner he's gotten.

You were like a moth to a flame, not in the sense that you were attracted to its light, but more so like being punished with burn after burn the closer you got.

But your feelings for Komori begged you at every instance to swallow the humiliation down, at each of Sakusa’s degrading remarks.

You take out your packed bento, wiping at the table with wipes before placing it down, the cousins moving to do the same out of adapted habit, until you notice Komori digging in his bag, eyebrows furrowed like he's confused.

"Motoya-kun? What's wrong?"

He turns to you, scratching at the back of his head, "I think I forgot my sanitizer."

You're quick on your hands, offering him yours without missing a beat and Sakusa's reminded of why he even likes you at all.

You were persistent with being able to stick around them. He thought that was remarkable. That you'd never been freaked out by his habits, you respected his space—something he couldn't say with the people who pushed and disregarded his boundaries. That instead of forcing him to adjust to you, you went out of your way for him to be comfortable with you around.

And he's flattered, really. He doesn't have to wonder if he had a chance with you because surely, he does.

Since he's so nice—nicer than a whore like you deserves, he'll let you know your feelings are reciprocated, then he'll fuck you, because surely, that's what you want… Right?

Then maybe, when you're finally his girlfriend, he can start training you to stop being such a flirty slut, that you belong only to him and that you’re nothing but his property.

But for now, he can settle with the warmth in his chest as he notices all the ways you try to get his attention.

Being with Sakusa is hard, even with Komori around, it was nerve wracking. Conversations with him weren't any easier, if anything, they were more dreadful.

When you ask Sakusa about tutoring you, you do it over lunch just so you avoid having to walk up to him alone. His answer is curt when he tells you to come over tomorrow, and that he’ll pick you up from your place; because you can try all you want to outsmart him, but he’d always catch on.

Because Sakusa was smart, and you were just you.

After lunch, you feel nothing but the dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach—churning and thrashing—because no matter how hard you try to push it down, the fact is that you’re actually scared of him.

Scared of the nitpicking he'll scrutinize you with—the way you sat, the way you looked at him, the way you trembled in his presence alone. You start thinking of what to wear, because even something as little as that can put him off—always commenting about how short your skirt is, how you're showing too much skin, how you're probably doing it on purpose.

But it's nothing you're not used to anymore.

So you tug on your fear, push it into a corner, and you tell yourself that Sakusa is mean, and condescending, and harsh, but he wouldn’t hurt you. You pick yourself up from the corner of your mind, and you repeat in your head like a mantra. Sakusa wouldn’t hurt you.

The ring of the bell breaks you out of your reverie. It reminds you that the day has almost ended, and that it felt like a blink faster than it should’ve been. Still, you pull on your things, gathering them to leave the classroom slowly emptying out.

You make a small sound of surprise when your eyes dart over to the door, where Komori stood, an anxious smile on his lips. He looks like he's been waiting for you, making your heart hammer against your chest like it wants to leap out.

Face-flushed and giddy, you walk towards him.

“Hey, Motoya-kun. What’s up?” You smile, all sweet and bright-eyed. From the pit of Komori’s stomach, something flutters. You only ever look like this when your eyes are on him; he thinks he wants to keep it to himself.

He brings a hand up to his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head with a nervous smile, and it’s awkward in an adorable sort of way. He’s walking beside you along the corridor, it’s slow and the bit of silence between you is calm.

“Ah, well…” He starts, gaze flickering to the floor and back to you indecisively, “I was wondering if I could ask you to the newly opened café tomorrow. A-after you study with Sakusa-kun, of course,” He stutters a bit, offering you a boyish grin.

It so nearly pulls a squeak out of you, surprised in the most love struck sort of way. Your heart beats out of your chest unlike the way Sakusa makes you feel.

Your heart hammers out of fear of him—but with Komori, it's nothing but pleasant and warm and intoxicating.

Your smile is instantaneous; it comforts Komori as your lips part.

"I'd love to," you answer him softly, though an octave higher.

Sakusa finds you both like this, shyly smiling at each other like lovesick doves. There's nothing pure about you, you shouldn't be smiling that way. Especially not at the face of his cousin.

"Oi," he calls out, even through the face mask, his annoyance seeps into your skin and makes you feel small.

The blood that had rushed to your cheeks dries you pale at the glare he gives you.

"Coach is looking for you, Komori," he follows, yet never taking his eyes off of you.

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N!"

Sakusa takes another step closer to you the moment Komori's out of sight. Your grip on your bag tightening, instinctively taking a step backwards.

The action alone makes him practically sneer with you cowering in response.

"Disgusting," he mutters, brimming with venom. "There's nothing I hate more than girls who throw themselves at any guy they see."

Maybe it's the sheer malice in his voice, or the way your eyes catch how his hand moves up—but you flinch, like expecting a hit to come across your cheek.

The pain never comes and when your eyelids flutter open, you're met with hard eyes the color of obsidian yet gleaming with a newfound resolve despite his furrowed eyebrows that suggested hitting you was far from the origin of his intentions.

Without a word, Sakusa walks away from you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

You let your body slump against the wall. His eyes burn in the back of your head, almost like they’re warning you.

Right before you head to bed, your phone chimes once, then twice and it’s bittersweet. One from Komori, telling you he’s excited to see you tomorrow, and one from Sakusa—not beating around the bush, it says nothing but ‘9 AM.’

It’s firm and unyielding. Even as your head hits the pillow, forcing your eyes shut, sleep doesn’t come easy—not even at the thought of seeing Komori on a date.

It’s not the sunlight peeking in between your curtains that wake you, nor the sound of birds chirping outside your window. Instead, it’s the ache in your body acting like a bad omen. Nevertheless, you drag your body out of bed.

Your stomach churns but you get ready for the day.

You think the next hour couldn’t come any quicker, because you’re fidgeting on the balls of your feet and somehow, there’s goosebumps rising against your bare skin.

Your phone blinks back at you with a minute before nine o’clock but you already hear the knock on your door. Your breathing halts even as you move hurriedly to open it—and even when the air hits you as you find Sakusa on your doorstep.

You feel his eyes wander, from the very top of your head, down to your feet, and he mutters, “You look nice today.”

The blush that creeps on your cheeks is only natural. Compliments in any form that came from Sakusa were hard to come by—only because they were compliments in the most genuine, honest of ways.

Sakusa is mean, and if you were more honest with yourself, he’s a bully. But Sakusa, mean or not, is still Komori’s cousin; so you give him a smile, palms going clammy.

“Thank you, Sakusa-kun…” You trail off, hesitating on your next words, “You look nice today, too.”

And he does. The dark color of his clothes complimented his pale skin and dark, curly hair, and despite being covered by the mask, his pristine beauty seems to gleam through. Even seemingly unfazed, his gaze on you softens by a fraction.

As abrupt as it appeared, he’s already turning away, “Hurry up,” he quips, but his voice is softer because you look nice today were words that confessed his truest feelings—the ones that reminded him he’s so in love with you and that you’re the cause of warmth in chest.

Even when you strut around trying to get Komori to like you, Sakusa doesn’t attempt to deny the feelings he harbored, because you look nice today, too should mean something, shouldn’t it?

You know you’re dressed up for your date with Komori, but Sakusa doesn’t know that; so in that moment, he appreciates you. For once, there isn't one insult that lingers in his tongue or even in his head as he walks slowly.

Sakusa is nice today, you note as he keys the lock to his place. He had awkwardly placed his hand on the small of your back on the short walk it took from your place to his, guiding you along the sidewalk.

You've only been to his place once or twice, both times were with Komori, so you weren't familiar with the directions. The walk was silent, and in his silence, you found a reason to relax—just enough to make you think that this might go well.

Despite all awkwardness, Sakusa is forward. Seeing you sat on his couch so comfortably, the skirt of your dress riding up slightly, does nothing to hold back his urge to keep his hands on you.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself now, right? Since you like him so much, you'd let him fuck you now… Right?

Sakusa's movements are sly, that's why you don't question how he walks closer towards you, sitting so, so close to you—that's why you choke on the lump in your throat when his hand shoots out to grab you by the wrist, pulls you in, then presses his lips on yours.

The second that passes is only because you couldn't wrap your head around Sakusa—lips pressed against yours and body so close.

But the next second, you're pushing him off roughly enough to stop him and he's looking at you confused.

"Sakusa-kun, I think you misunderstood—I like, I like Motoya-kun, I didn't mean to—this is—" you're trampling over your words, looking at him with panicked eyes.

Sakusa mutes out the sound of your voice, all he can hear is the beating in his chest and the ache of it—the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. He should’ve known.

All the softness in his eyes are gone. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, gripping tighter and tighter; your heart skipping obnoxiously against your chest. Something about the way he's looking at you now petrifies you.

His silence feels deadlier than his destructive words, deadlier when you wince at his grip, whimpering, "Sakusa, you're hurting me—please," and still, he doesn't let up.

Not when he's roughly tugging you from the couch, taking your arm with a bruising grip, then he's hauling you somewhere. You thrash, panicked pleas calling out to him and apologies he doesn't deserve but you offer him anyway. All your protests are rewarded when he halts, turning to you without a hint of remorse, pushing you to the floor—his foot comes to your side, kicking you with a force that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Bile is rising up your throat, coughing and arms shooting to your stomach to protect yourself. Scared feels too small of a word to describe the feeling that looms over you as he takes your arm again, dragging your curled up body.

Sakusa shoves you inside a room, even as you flail around and beg for help, his face remains impassive; whatever force you’re putting in the way you try to break free from his hold is futile. Of course he’s stronger. Of course, but you can’t possibly accept this, can you?

You made Sakusa yearn—disgustingly grapple on his feelings so needlessly, and nothing, he thinks, could be more unforgivable.

So he secures you on the bed, bound and within his claws, for you to take responsibility for the yearning you've planted inside of him.

"S-Sakusa, please," your begging sounds like a whimper. "I-I won't tell anyone! N-not even Motoya-ku—!"

You hear ringing in your ears before feeling the sting across your cheek. From inside your mouth, you can taste metal.

"You won't tell anyone either way," he mutters apathetically, like the idea of you telling anyone isn't a threat, "No one would believe you…"

He pauses, gaze on you hardening for a second, "You don't want Komori finding out you only got close to him because you wanted me, right?"

The sound of disbelief that escapes you is small, even the wide-eyed betrayal that flashes in your eyes does nothing to make him even pity you.

"You–I, I didn't—"

At your stuttering, Sakusa clicks his tongue, "You're such a dumb girl you don't even know what you want."

"That's not true, Sakusa—"

He glares down on you. The bed dips, bracketing your body between his knees, hovering over you, then leaning forward. His hands move slowly as if caressing you before grabbing your hair with a stinging tug.

The fear pooling your eyes only makes him even angrier.

"I hate that face," he grits out, "Always looking at me all scared, then you look at Komori like a shy innocent bitch, it pisses me off."

Pretty as you are, he lands another hit across your cheek—hard enough that you can feel a cut on your cheek trickling down with blood, the side of your ear going deaf. You’re not sure anymore if it was a slap or a punch—all that you know is that it hurts. Your vision is blurred when you open your eyes, but even through them, the insanely expressionless eyes of Sakusa are clear.

It dawns on Sakusa that you wouldn’t date him. Of course you wouldn’t. Sluts like you go for guys like Komori—so he’d just have to take you by force, make you date him by force, make you love him by force.

Besides, you look prettier forced, he observes. Your face tear-stained and bloody makes his cock throb in his pants. With your body weak underneath him, so helpless that it disgusts him and fuels him with desire all at once.

Something about your weakness, the innocence that spills from you contradicting his firm idea that you’re a dirty whore makes him livid. He pictures you painted with bruises and cuts, the image sending a shiver down his spine. Clenched fists pull back, only to land on your sides, on the same places he kicked you.

What makes you feel sick at the stomach more than the abuse he inflicts on you is the way Sakusa’s movements lack hesitation as his hands travel to your bare thighs.

"W-what are you doing?”

It's disgusting. Women like you are disgusting. You lead him on just so you can take advantage of his feelings like this—that even if he knew better, he'd still soften up for you.

It's you who lured him into this, he almost sneers at the thought. You were truly vile, and yet he loves you all the same—wants you all to himself all the same.

"Omi?' You breathe, frightened. The nickname falls affectionately, though, putting all your hope into it, wishing it would tug on his heart enough for him to let you go.

“Let’s talk about this, Omi? Please?” You cry, searching for his eyes—the ones trained on your thighs as he glides his hands against them, your dress bunched up to your hips revealing your baby pink panties. Your sobs only grow louder as he goes further up, going on as if he’s in a trance where he can’t hear you groveling at him to stop.

Strong, calloused hands stop at the band of your panties, fingers hooking, and only then does he look back up at you. Dark eyes drown you as he tugs them down torturously slow, exposing you to him in your most vulnerable state.

The same second you attempt to force your legs shut, comes a biting pain on the inside of your thighs, instantly blooming his handprint at the force. Your mouth opens to wail at the pain, but it’s the same wail that Sakusa swallows as he brings his lips to yours with a kiss so treacherously passionate.

Sakusa pulls away quickly though, eyeing your bare cunt, he brings his fingers to your slit, experimentally rubbing up and down and your response is immediate, somehow. Your slick gathers on his fingers, body squirming from beneath him.

“K-Kiyoomi, it feels weird—stop, please,” yet your hips buck into his fingers as he prods at your tight hole, “Don’t—Not there—N-no one has touched—”

He lifts an eyebrow, “You’re a virgin?” His question sounding more of a comment, because the hesitant nod you give him is almost needless when you hiss at the intrusion of his digit pushing inside of you; your walls clamping down on it, body tensing, he brings a thumb to your clit, circling with enough pressure to make it feel good.

And it’s wrong. So wrong, but it feels good because you’re moaning against your will, whimpering at the curl of his finger and at the additional finger he’s slowly sinking into you.

The stretch is uncomfortable and foreign. Nothing is in Sakusa’s mind but at the thought of you absolutely untouched, absolutely all for him to ruin. Your body instinctively leaning to his, submitting to his ministrations—fingers scissoring and pushing in and out of your pussy, the sound of your slick echoing in your ears as if to taunt you, but your legs are trembling, your gasps are broken and there’s a pressure in your pelvis about to snap.

“You’re so filthy,” he mutters, but he looks at you like you’re the farthest thing from filthy, and his comment is exactly what makes you break, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and cunt creaming around his fingers pathetically.

You feel so dirty, especially at the sound of your slick as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them inside your mouth—the taste of you tainting your tongue. Shaking your head profusely, you beg him with your eyes, “No more—please, I don’t want this.” you weep, muffled.

“Suck,” he commands, but your defiance is clear before you even shake your head, so he pushes his fingers down further, choking you until you gag and find it hard to breathe.

“Suck,” he repeats, and you relent.

Watching you suck messily on his fingers, drool and tears disheveling you, dried blood sticking to your skin, he frees his twitching cock out of its constraints.

Though hazy, your eyes catch it, the thickness of his cock—hard and flushed at the tip—your hands tugging at your restraints feebly making you panic and choke on his fingers, nearly biting down on them.

He’s quick to pull them out, glaring down at you with dark eyes, jaw ticking as his hands curl into fists; knowing what’s to come doesn’t prepare you any more at the excruciating pain of his abuse, even more so at his length pressing against your wet folds—cockhead nudging your puffy clit and making your cunt drool on him.

Both hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. The pain on your face numbs at the sensation of him prodding on your entrance, ripping you apart and increasing the pain—your head throbs as he stretches your cunt with his fat cock, barely giving you time to adjust as he starts to move slowly despite your tense walls barely allowing him.

He curses as he ruts into you, bathing in your cries and moans, violating and invading the entirety of you. The pleasure of feeling you and having you just like this seeps into his bones, turning his languid thrusts more desperate.

“You make desperation look so pretty,” he groans, “You’re making such a mess, you like being forced like this?”

He insults you, but you’re everything he always wanted and more—the taste of your skin as he sucks marks onto your neck as if you were his to own, the clenching and humiliating sound of your cunt squelching as he pounds into you and grunts against your skin. His cock throbs inside you and drags along your velvety walls deliciously; all you can think is that you hate this.

Pressure, pain, the drowning pleasure of Sakusa all over you and inside you don’t allow you to retreat to the back of your head and forget. Not with the burning euphoria building up in your stomach or the moan that slips from your lips as Sakusa brings one of your legs down, bringing his hand to your breasts and thumb swiping around your sensitive nipples.

“O-Omi, please,” you sob, weak and submissive—just how you should be. Your nails dig into your palms, arms aching from your restraints. “I-I’m gonna—I think I—”

“Y-you really are a whore,” he spits, voice strained yet patronizing, still. “Do it, then. Cum on my cock.”

His hand moves in between your thighs, fingers pressing and rubbing circles on your clit as you cry out, tight walls clamping down on him and stuttering his already sloppy thrusts, your arousal running down his length and down to his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Your moans come out as squeals of his name, your back arching and breath catching in your throat, vision going white as he continues to fuck into you.

His breathing is ragged, moving to bury his face into the crook of your neck in an odd show of affection, your swollen cunt pulsating around his cock as he suddenly stills, his low groan vibrating against your skin as he empties inside you.

You want to cry—but nothing comes out, all you can feel is the bruises on your skin, Sakusa’s cock buried deep inside you and his cum leaking from your abused hole, the stickiness and the sweat.

Maybe Sakusa’s right. Maybe you are disgusting, because as he peels himself from you, thinking it’s all over—Sakusa doesn’t undo the ties keeping you on the bed.

He reaches towards the bedside table, grabbing his phone. The sound of the shutter going off once, twice, over and over with the camera directed at you pulls your soul out of you.

“Omi—?” Your question remains a lump in your throat, but Sakusa is smart. He doesn’t need to hear your question.

“You’re my girlfriend now…” He mutters carelessly, “but I’m sure you don’t want Komori to see how you like to be fucked, right?”

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

sir, ma’am, person, or other pronouns, you cannot just post good writing ideas right before I sleep /j

I’d like to see that golden house prompt as a short story,,, possibly????😳

-💃

spoiler! i ain't good at choreographing fights but uh i THINK i was poetic enough so it still sounds cool??? hope that's ok!! this is also inspired by some of the brainrot i've been having and getting in the past few days so i can definitely make a part two!! also normal Childe’s there for a bit original prompt was of FL Childe injuring you during the golden house fight!! read Part Two here!!: The Sky’s Tears ~ * ~ Golden House is Falling Down Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Worrying, descriptions of anger, fighting (battles), a corpse, allusions to blood, pain, potential death, lightning, electrocution

~ * ~

Sometimes Childe worried you. It came with his job, you supposed. You were well aware of his status as a Fatui Harbinger, although you’ve never personally seen him at work- it had been a casual accident when you walked into him discussing plans with his subordinates. The two of you hadn’t been close back then, only acquaintances, and he made you swear to secrecy. Well, technically he had threatened you, but you didn’t particularly mind. You weren’t as in love with Liyue as some of your friends were, and you, unlike many people, understood the importance of a well-paying job. Having his position exposed to the public could very well get him fired. Those had been your concerns, so long ago. But now, as you hurried after the Traveler in all their glory, those pitiful worries seemed so far away, replaced instead by anxious thoughts flurrying by about life and death. You weren’t anyone of particular importance in the harbor, but you always made sure to pay careful attention to any rumors and gossip you heard. You always took them with a grain of salt, of course, but you had long ago learned that it was good to keep things you heard in your mind as potential possibilities. Liyue had a habit of having “impossible” events happen anyways. It really got on your nerves sometimes. Last week’s whispers had been full of a Fatui plan about meddling with the panicking government, after Rex Lapis had allegedly fallen from the sky, his status as the oldest living archon gone. Seeing that the Fatui’s reputation wasn’t particularly good, you had filed the thought away to consider later. A few days later, it came true. And Childe seemed to vanish into thin air, shifting your worries instantaneously over to him. It was funny, how close the two of you had gotten in the weeks he’d been in Liyue. At least, you were close to him. The Traveler was kind enough to let you accompany them to the famed Golden House, just to cover all possible leads. Their steps are light and quick as you approach the elegant building, all lined with gold and jade, and you can almost hear the tinkling sound of mora within. The Traveler stares up at the enormous door, clutching their sword. They seem prepared for a fight. You gulp, hoping that their stance is just how they stand as a default. The doors to the Golden House swing open, and the Traveler gestures for you to follow them, a determined look in their eyes. You enter together, and momentarily you’re distracted by the piles of mora scattered around the floor- probably more mora than you’d see in your entire life. Your eyes scan the room as the glimmer of coins snatches your attention, a tendency that friends and family had always teased you lightheartedly about- they’d call you a crow or a magpie. You didn’t mind being a bird. It sounded fun, to fly away from all your problems. Finally your gaze lands on the corpse of Rex Lapis, floating in the center-back of the room like a morbid decoration put on display. Despite it being very, very dead, it emanates an aura of power, and you involuntarily shiver, the temperature seeming to drop by a few degrees. Suddenly you hear the great doors of the Golden House slam shut, and someone’s voice questions why they, the Traveler, still lingered. The three of you, little Paimon included, turn in surprise. It’s Childe, the very person you were fretting over and looking for. You sigh quietly in relief, but your fleeting moment of calm is quickly dashed as the Traveler silently challenges him to a duel. Hastily you scramble to get out of the way, and just barely find yourself “out-of-bounds” when the arena for their fight flares to life as they both ready their weapons. Childe retrieves his bow with a twisted smile, a counterpart to the Traveler’s iron stoicness. But it seems his gaze lingers on you, and softens for a brief moment, something you tell yourself is just your imagination, because you doubt he was ever your friend to begin with. As someone whose work isn’t associated with adventuring, your knowledge of combat is limited, but even you can see the

skill of both the Traveler and Childe as their blades clash. Several times a burst of elemental energy strikes the burning walls of the arena, and you’re thankful for the barrier between you and them, because you have very little chance of surviving the power of their abilities. When Childe’s clothes darken and the mask falls over his face, you remember hearing something about a far more powerful and dangerous version of Visions- Delusions, items the Tsaritsa, Cryo Archon and ruler of Snezhnaya, rewards to her most loyal and deserving followers. Childe’s is Electro, and the crackle of static energy he slashes towards the Traveler makes your hair stand on end. You shield your eyes from the bright lights dancing around the arena, and when you reopen them, Childe has disappeared. And he reappears next to Rex Lapis’ corpse. Several things happen at once. The Geo Archon’s Gnosis is gone, taken by neither the Harbinger or the Traveler. Paimon looks worried, the Traveler looks shocked, and Childe enraged- You blink and he’s changed. Suddenly several feet taller, he now floats, some sort of terrible creature you’ve never seen before. Everything is loud, too loud, and you clap your hands over your ears, as the floor breaks away beneath you. And you fall with the Traveler and Paimon into the chamber below. You feel something catch you- an enormous clawed hand- and set you down more or less gently into a single large room. The room is the arena, an arena you stand in with no escape. The Gnosis is gone, and Childe is a monster, one of both Hydro and Electro and a foreign, starry magic that makes your skin crawl. And the battle only continues. Luckily the Traveler is adamant on staying away from you, drawing Childe’s attacks to the other side of the arena entirely, and for a majority of the fight the most you have to do is dodge falling arrows and water amalgamations. Childe’s furious questions about the Gnosis soon fade into hisses and growls as he loses himself more and more into the horrible joy of battle. You lean over, coughing slightly from the water that splashed you as a consequence of his attacks and the exertion from dodging and keeping your balance in the Hydro-soaked room. The Traveler screams, and you look up too late as a burst of electro slashes across your chest. Then everything goes white and high pitched, your senses bursting alongside the elemental energy as it runs up your damp skin and clothes. The pain from the combination of Hydro and Electro in your veins brings tears to your eyes, and it’s only amplified around your torso as you vaguely feel something warm and sticky dripping down. Someone shakes you, panicking, calling your name, but everything is white, cold noise. The sounds around you are muffled as the battle slows to a halt, and all you hear is ringing. Another hand, sharp and clawed, brushes against your arm, but it retreats when someone starts shouting. A blade is brandished as someone yells at a monster to stay away, he’s done enough damage, how dare he, and you hear a mournful, desperate chitter through the haze of static. Ah, that curious sound, it makes your heart ache. But what, or who, is it? The sword slices through the air as the monster is pushed away by a blonde-haired Traveler’s rage, and it soon joins into the pitching, ringing note in your ears before it tapers into silence and sorrow, leaving only the inky abyss of darkness crawling up to your eyes as the pain fades into weightlessness. This time, you let yourself fall. In the harbor, the Fair Lady is informed that the Golden House is falling down, falling down.

[rinstars]

𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 — 𝐬.𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 (𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞)

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

genre/trope: angst, unrequited love, forbidden love

warnings: nsfw, profanity, infidelity, mentions of weed/drugs, intoxication

description: you knew you never meant to him as much as he meant to you.. yet deep down, you still hoped his heart also breaks with every single goodbye and the regrets of the past clings to him a lot more than he let you believe.

note: this is a repost of 'the call' where i changed and added a few things to make it fit as a prologue better, so make sure u still read it. i'll do this series at my own pace so please just be patient! i'll open the taglist so just send me an ask if you want to be tagged hehe.

The smell of leather and weed floating in the space surrounding you constricts your breathing, making you gasp for air – even more as he suctions the air out of you through your heated shared kiss, your lungs burning with the need for oxygen. But you ignore it. Running your fingers through his hair and meeting his hunger with kisses equally as rough, you ignore the building pain on your chest.

You rock your hips towards him, feeling his hard crotch rub you through the lace of the panties you bought just a few days ago. Pulling away for a moment only to gasp on his reddening plump lips while he lazily guides your movements on his lap, triggering a flood of pleasure wash over you.

Slender, pale, and long fingers reached over to snatch another blunt, taking a long drag before the very same fingers of the opposite hand takes the back of your neck so he can pull you closer to his lips. He breathes the smoke out of his mouth into yours, connecting your lips once again.

Despite the distinct scent of the drug, you taste a tinge of sweetness on your tongue as his own massages yours. Rocking your hips harder to his forces a moan out of you, making your fingers curl around his lengthy hair. You pull away, muttering a small give me a minute to him. Leaning back on the steering wheel, you watch him while you try to control your ragged breathing.

His hair is long. Long enough that it falls softly all the way to his eyes and cheeks, the ends brushing his really pale skin. With your earlier statement, he just shrugged with the same unchanging look of nonchalance in his eyes—proceeding to take drags out of his blunt. His beautifully shaped eyes now bloodshot and shiny with moisture.

He's almost like a vampire, now that you think about it. So beautiful. Such pale skin but such dark hair. Sharp gaze but soft lips. Intoxicating scent but still so sweet.

The most similar thing between him and vampires, you thought, is the way he sucks all the life out of you. Drying you out and taking all your light.

This man has corrupted you more than you're willing to admit.

You opened your mouth to say something when the blaring ring of his phone makes you jump. His eyes glanced over the source before grabbing it with a sigh and scanning the monitor. You didn't even need to ask who it is. You're very well aware who it is, and why he never hesitated to answer.

When it comes to you, it always takes a lot of rings and missed calls before he picks up, though. You understand. You tell him you do, you always will.

He doesn't pick a call up on the first ring unless it's his girl. Astumu whispered as if he heard you ponder about the caller in your head one night when you were drinking with him in a bar. Loves her a lot. Probably too much.

The alarms rang in your head that night, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. So annoying but at the same time so painful. You didn't know how to turn it off and you wish every single time you could.

"Darling," He whispered with such a loving voice, one you never heard from him when he answers your calls. Your heart ached but you knew better than to confront him about it. Instead you cry in the arms of the twinss—more on Atsumu's, since Osamu takes you through an hour long lecture of why you should have known better.

You know that much, you think.

You shouldn't have let yourself get dragged in this stupid situation, craving a taken man and his touches. Letting him in on your secrets even when he barely lets you get a peak in his.

"I miss you too, my love.. Oh?.. I'll be home soon." He speaks in pauses as he lets her finish speaking first. You close your eyes to prevent the liquid threatening to spill out, taking a deep breath before slowly lifting yourself from his lap to the passenger seat. His eyes widened a millimeter—almost as if he cares what you do, when he noticed you getting off him without having to tell you. You noticed he ended his call with her and you refuse to look back at him. If you do, you are sure of another sleepless night.

Another sleepless night of asking yourself what went wrong and if he ever regretted his decisions— maybe he, too, spend the night wide awake asking himself why he brushed off every single detail of the past like it never existed, why he acts like you're a stranger he met for the very first time when both of you coincidentally takes the seat next to each other on a bar, why he never gave you an explanation of what happened that day.

Cold fingers hook under your chin, slowly turning your head to the left. He leans over the center console, connecting his lips with the soft skin of your neck, making you exhale out at the feeling of him sucking all the reason in you again. He runs his tongue wet on your collarbones, creating a glistening trail.

"I'll see you soon?" He whispered on the crook of your neck, nibbling it a little with his teeth. The bruises he leave on your skin another reminder that everything is real.

You just hum with a nod, cupping his jaw and slowly pulling him away from you with a small smile. One of his bangs fell in the middle of his face—you reached up to brush it away.

So many unspoken words from you. Too many. You wonder if he has anything he's holding back to say too as his eyes linger on you a second longer than usual. Or maybe you're just desperately reading into the lines again, like what Osamu said way too many times.

"Rin, what.. what are we?" Every parting is like this, like a new way of saying goodbye that you both developed. You just needed to be reminded, to wake up from whatever delusions you're starting to have.

"Nothing." He replies as flatly as all the other times before. Not a hint of emotion – no amusement or remorse.

You swallow, letting your hands fall to your sides. On the verge of turning around and reaching the door, his voice echoes once again. "How many times are you gonna ask me this?"

Until you start feeling something.

You thought to yourself. Anger, disgust, love, hatred, adoration, anything. You just want him to feel something. Prove to yourself and everyone else that you're not just a tool to him.

"Sorry. Slipped out of habit." You settle for that response now. No point having a conversation with him about this.

"You don't have to leave right away, I can still drive you home."

Losing all the strength to refuse, you found yourself just agreeing with him. Why the fuck are you even so upset to begin with? You knew what you signed up for. You knew about the girl. You saw him with her in the very same bar a few nights ago. Watched how much attention he gives her, how tightly he holds her.

Of course, you knew about the girl. Your past with her woven in a way no one will be able to deny, and she knows it too, as much as Suna and the twins do. How could you forget? Everything to you was clear as day, from the very first day to the last. Rintarou knows it hurts you more this way, but he never bothers to hide it from you—how he chose her over you.

"I'll break your heart by the end of this, baby." He warns you as you feel his length slip inside you, making you moan out in ecstasy.

"I don't care." You pant, grabbing him by the hips as a way of telling him to go faster.

Looking back, maybe you shouldn't have been so foolish and say that. Now, you're paying the price. Now, your exit has been sealed.

The moment you met him, you forgot everything – your reason, pride, dignity, loyalty, sense, self-love. You hate how intoxicates you like the drugs on his backseat and yet you can't stop. You wonder if he knows how you feel about him—how you still feel about him. If he notices the way your eyes would light up when you see him or the way you would wrap your arms so tightly like you're afraid of letting him go.

The car stopped soon after and you looked out the window to find yourself in front of your house. You collected your things and fastened the clasp on your sandals then opened the door, stepping a foot outside when he once again stops you by the wrist.

"I'll call you soon. I promise."

"I'll be waiting." You wriggle out of his grip without looking back, stepping your remaining foot out to join with the other as you stand up to leave. "Take care, Rintarou."

"You too, baby." The sound of his tires grow fainter by the second as he speeds off to his and his girlfriend's shared apartment and it was so loud, you couldn't tell if there was a strain on his voice when he said that or if you just imagined it again in your head.

You didn't notice the sobs wrecking your body. Not until you feel warm droplets fall to your open palms in front of you. You clutched your phone tightly, holding it to your chest.

You can only hope the next call comes soon, interrupting the continuous flow of the songs on your phone—the very records that remind you of what you never had—or perhaps, if things went a different turn; what you could've had with him.

[script-nef]

Confession in the moonlight | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

2.2k words; Hatsumoude date [6/6]

Happy New Year everyone!

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

Bells and chatter are almost deafening even this late into the night. Families and friends are gathering here, mingling and pushing against each other in the narrow path leading up to the shrine. There are so many carts lined up on the sides, owners screaming their products and shouting over another.

And you're walking through the crowd with the one person who you want to avoid the most in the world.

Thanks to the event which is now dubbed "The Alcohol Incident That Can Never Happen Again", you learned about a couple of things in the following days.

First, alcohol is the enemy. This is ironclad and nothing will ever shift your opinion on it. Alcohol. Is. The. Enemy. None of it will ever touch your lips again.

Second, you discovered what type of a drunk you are. The clingy, bubbly one who has the misfortune of remembering practically everything that happened. Worst combination ever. Because your brain wants you to die from embarrassment. The only plus is that you don't feel like throwing up and you don't have headaches. Whatever Gojou fed you worked wonders. 

Just thinking his name makes you want to slam your head into a wall. 

Facing him again after that has proven to be a challenge. The memory of what happened on that day intrudes every time you see his face and then you have to take a break to calm down. Faking ignorance and acting as though you remember nothing from the night was your choice. Which was a bad choice since you’re not known for your acting skills and you also have the misfortune of wearing your heart on your sleeve. Which brings on the next problem.

Third, you… seem to have feelings for Gojou. The romantic kind. Like, the boyfriend-girlfriend kind. When you woke up the next day, it was probably the most clear your mind had been in months. Alcohol is a confusing drink. Still, you're never going to go near it again. Making a fool out of yourself once is enough.

Lastly, perhaps most importantly, you basically confessed to him. While drunk. And then went to sleep.

Sitting up in bed the morning after, hair everywhere and jacket still on, you did an analysis. 

It's like a typical light novel cliché. A guy and a girl, co-workers or something like that, comfortable with each other, hangs out all the time, one major event or couple of minor events happens, the girl falls in love with the guy or vice-versa, confession and then happy ending. 

It all kind of made sense with your new, alcohol-cleaned brain. The fluttering feelings, the spike in heart rate, the uncontrollable blushing and noticing physical contact more. There’s a reason why he’s so comfortable to be around, why you practically entrusted your life in his hands. And you literally said to him once, you think in the movie theatre, that he would make a good boyfriend. To his face. Who says that? Embarrassment turns into self loathing. It makes you wonder how you didn’t notice it last time.

With this new shocking revelation, you didn’t know what to do. Confess? If there is even the slightest bit of chance he doesn’t like you back and rejects you, life will be hell to live. Because you live in the same goddamn place, work together and all of your friends are his friends.

So two options. Three outcomes. One: you confess and he accepts and everything is fine. Ideal. Two: you confess and he rejects you and so you leave the place, never come back again and work in a farm halfway across the world by changing your identity. That sounded reasonable enough. Three: you don’t confess and somehow act naturally around him. This has problems because, again, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s still very tempting. More so than the second one. This is perhaps the most difficult decision you’ve made in your life.

So you turned to the one person you can vent this kind of thing on. Shouko. Who looked at you like you were either stupid or dense. Maybe both. Definitely both. It was quite amazing what she could express while moving the least amount of facial muscles. 

“So… yeah. I think I like Gojou and I don’t know which of the options I should take. Help me?” 

She just stared at you. With a deadpan face that has all the stress and exasperation in the world. You pride yourself in being able to read other’s faces quite easily. Rubbing her fingers over her eyes and groaning for a bit, she eventually took her phone out and dialled a number. The line rang for a bit.

“Ijichi? You owe me 10,000 yen.” Clicking off the phone even before hearing a response, Shouko turned her focus back to you. “You seriously don’t know?”

“Don’t know what? What was the phone call about?”

“That he likes you? That’s he’s insufferable because of that? You seriously don’t know?” She inched closer and closer until her face was right in front of yours. Shouko is seriously scary when she’s angry, like a sleeping lion. And you just somehow poked her. “Look at me in the eyes. You seriously never realised?”

“Um, what?”

“The dates. Remember when I couldn’t go to the movie for Howl because someone came in? I immediately gave it to him because I owed him a favour and he wanted to spend time with you. The time he went shopping with you by flying. Do you know why he offered that in the first place?”

“I mean, it was getting late… And I was in a bad mood so— oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Do you get it now?” 

“So then… the dinner, that was also…”

“A date.” Sighing, she sits back on the sofa, letting her head drop onto the backrest. Thoughts jumble inside your head, all of them slowly clicking into place.

“Wait, so. He likes me?”

Annoyed moans are her response as she thuds her head into the furniture. Something along the lines of “Why me.” could be heard.

“So him inviting me to hatsumoude today is also a date?” Her hand waves lazily in the air.

“Yes, it is. Tell me you accepted.” You nodded, then realised that she can’t see from her position.

“I did. I can’t really say no to him.” She makes a gagging sound.

“Good. Finally. So just confess to him then. He’ll accept, you’ll be happy, he’ll be happy, and we’ll all finally be free.”

“Free of what.”

“Your denseness.” She snaps, sitting back up. Fire burns in her irises. “It’s like the Chinese story, the one with the shield and the spear. You’re the shield, oblivious to every single one of his advances and he’s the spear, never giving up. And we’re the spectators who are bored and tired. So dress up in your prettiest clothes and go.”

And that’s why you’re walking up the steps to the shrine, swaddled in clothing. Gojou is right next to you, enjoying mochi he bought from somewhere and humming. He’s humming while you’re having one of the worst crises of your life. God, you envy his ability to keep cool. 

Making every effort to keep calm and not look move your head in his general direction, you finally arrive at the bell. The sound resonates clearly into the night. Coins clink into the offering box. Two bows, two claps, pray, one bow. Your wish is the same as always, with one more sentence. Gojou copies you, mochi finished and trash discarded.

The way down is much easier, your heart a little lighter. Maybe the rest of the night will be fine. 

This is a delusion and you realise it as soon as Gojou opens his mouth.

“What did you wish for?” His voice cuts through the commotion, nudging for your attention. You flinch a bit at the closeness but try to regain your composure. If he saw it, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I—I  wished for everyone I love to survive the fight with Sukuna and have a peaceful retirement. Especially Ken-chan.” In actuality, you did wish for that but also for a way to confess. He doesn’t need to know that yet. Your voice trembles a bit, betraying you. 

“You do know that saying it out loud negates the wish right?” There’s a delighted tone in his voice, like he’s happy he baited you. How is a person this childish? And what does that say about you, the person who likes him? A hand ruffles your head before you have a chance to lament your heart. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your wish comes true.” Your heart thumps.

It’s so unfair how he always knows what to say. It’s so unfair that it’s having this kind of effect on you. Your earlobes grow hot and you scramble to find a reply.

“What did you wish for then?” He shifts his head to look at you. “Yeah, I know. It won’t come true if you say it out loud, but if you can protect everyone and save the human race, I’m sure it's not up to the gods or spirits whether or not your wish comes true.”

He seems to contemplate it. Then nods. 

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s not up to them.” 

“See? So what’s yo—”

“It’s up to you.”

You nearly trip over one of the stone tiles, flailing for balance. Of course Gojou comes to your rescue, hands gently gripping at your sides. The first problem here is that your reaction was too obvious. You can’t feign ignorance now, like you didn’t hear him over the crowd. The second is that you just made a fool of yourself. Which leads to the third problem. 

He is way too close. 

“You okay?” And now he’s whispering. The blushing worsens. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s a clearing in the forest a bit away, a smaller dilapidated shrine on the edge of it. A small pond is in the middle, fireflies skimming over the surface and glimmering beautifully. 

“There you go.” He guides you to the steps of the ruined shrine, letting you sit down but stays standing. Shifting on his feet, neck cracking as he rolls it. Nervous energy leaks out of him. Wait, is this— 

“I don’t know what to say. I’ve rehearsed this like, hundreds of times but my heart is kind of going crazy.” So is yours. He comes back to you then lowers himself to one knee. Your heart stops. “I’m not proposing. Not yet. I’ve heard dating comes first.”

One of your hands slots into his. He removes his blindfold, revealing his cerulean eyes to you for the second time. Breath hitches and he most definitely heard it because his smile, no matter how tentative it was, becomes full and true.

“Let’s get to the main point straight away. I like you.” The words burn you alive and you try to take your hand back but his grip is strong. So you do the next best thing. Averting your face. “I know you do too. I also know you remember the night. Your acting skills are terrible. And Shouko told me.” If you’re not drowning in mortification and something that feels vaguely like hope, you might hit him. And Shouko.

But the second you face him, you see him. The heart-gripping worry in his eyes, the way he’s smiling to cover for his anxiousness, the light trembling in his fingers. It’s so different to his normal self, the aloof and laid-back aura completely dissipated. This is what you do to him?

“I’m not good at this. But I mean every word when I say that you’re the kindest, cutest and the most loveable person that I’ve ever met. You put up with me, and that’s saying a lot.” Protest is at the tip of your tongue, ready to argue that he should stop being so hard on himself and that you genuinely like spending time with him, but he recognises the look on your face and laughs delightedly. “See? So ready to come to my defence, even if it’s me you have to fight. Everyone’s fed up with me to some extent, and I know you are as well, but you still put up with me. That’s what made me fall for you. That unlimited kindness.”

He presses a kiss to the palm of your hand and it feels like he’s giving you his heart at the same time. Love shines in his eyes and clogs at your throat. A shuddering breath passes over the both of you. But then the cheeky smile comes back.

“I think that’s enough to sweep you off your feet. Is your heart beating fast?” A nod. “Hands clammy?” A nod. “Think you can manage granting me my wish?”

A wave of calm washes over. Gojou’s words, filled with sincerity and bare hearted emotions, turn into butterflies that travel to every inch in your body. It’s delightful and there’s no way you can live without hearing it again.

The distance between your lips close, and you swear your heart synchronises with his when they finally touch. 

[yonkimint]

So Show Me, I’ll Show You

Part 28.2

This part has written parts with pictures in between.

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When you come to, the lights are too bright overhead like someone is shining a laser beam directly into your pupil. You splutter and groan, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. Someone is leaning over you, smoothing hair back from your face and speaking words you don’t understand.

“Don’t,” you moan, “I can’t take it anymore.”

“y/n? My name is Doctor Yang. You’re safe now,” a gentle voice says but it sounds like it’s coming through a tunnel. They keep talking and whoever is stroking your hair moves to pat your cheek. An image of Mark holding a knife flashes against the back of your eyelids.

Somewhere far away, someone starts screaming. The bright light and the pressure of the hand on your hair disappear and you fall back into the safety of the dream they’ve awoken you from. This memory you have shared with no one and it’s, perhaps, the safest one of them all.

The delicate strum of the guitar combined with your already drained emotions has your eyes drifting shut. Somewhere in the back of your mind you remember that Yoongi wants your opinion on this song and you make a mental note to tell him it’s the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard.

You barely register when Yoongi stops playing but you rouse a little when you realize he’s come to sit next to you on the couch. The two of you have never been this close before and you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. 

You have a feeling if you ‘wake up,’ he’ll back off so you keep your eyes closed and wait to see what he’ll do.

He clicks his tongue and sighs almost like he’s scolding himself and you force yourself to keep your face free of emotion. You’d like to know what’s going through his brain but you don’t dare give away that you’re awake.

Soft fingertips brush your cheekbone, tracing the tear swollen skin beneath your eyes, and move to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t help the gentle sigh that comes from your lips and you hope he attributes it to a dream you’re having.

This feels like a dream.

“Why can’t I get you out of my head?” Yoongi whispers. Your heart leaps into your throat. He’s been thinking about you too?

You almost jump when he wraps his arm around you and pulls you out of the ball you’ve been curled in. This would be the perfect time to pretend you’ve woken up but you still want to know what he’ll do. It’s taking all your best acting skills but you let out an indignant moan and fall against his shoulder.

He laughs, the sound of it making your whole body tingle. “You silly, beautiful girl,” he whispers, turning his face so his lips brush the crown of your head, his breath warm against your scalp.

His palm presses gently against your cheek and his thumb skates the skin beneath your lower lashes again. You squirm a little, taking liberties as if you were asleep, and he must believe you are because he keeps whispering the things he won’t say to you out loud.

“I know I said we can’t be friends…” he trails off. You crack your eyes open just a sliver and peer through your eyelashes as if you will discover what has interrupted his thoughts. He sighs and his hand moves from your face, his fingers curling in your loose hair.

“I know that,” he says again, “but I hope you can tell how badly I am lying.”

You hope he can’t feel the warmth rising in your cheeks.

The press of something warm against your face has you convulsing again. You think you might scream again, anything to stop whatever pain you’ve been roused for, but you find that your fear response has been replaced with anger. How dare he take you away from that dream? How dare he take you away from Yoongi?

How dare Yoongi take himself away from you too?

You are so angry, you try to jerk away but find that you’ve been strapped down, every limb suspended in place and your head locked. Hot, fat tears well in your eyes and spill down from the corners to drench your hair. Vainly, you give a thought to how awful you must look in your final moments and that pisses you off too.

“Just get it over with, you asshole,” you spit.

“Baby,” a voice whispers in your ear, so familiar to you and so absolutely not Mark that your eyes snap open. You wince at the bright lights overhead and groan. Yoongi is leaning over you, smoothing your hair back from your forehead and smiling so sweetly that a deep ache fills your chest. You have missed him.

“It’s okay,” he tells you, his free hand coming up to wipe away the flood of salty liquid still dripping from your eyes, “You’re okay. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You blink at him. You aren’t sure how Yoongi got here — or how you got here, honestly — but all the emotions you have been put through today come to a head and you settle on anger once more. You glare at him, this boy who has pushed you away and abandoned you until this very moment when it is almost too late. His smile falters and you can’t say you aren’t happy to see it.

“Oh, you can get it over with too, you asshole,” you spit again, “Jimin said you went all the way to Daegu to get away from me. You didn’t have to come all the way back just because I almost died. A breakup text would have been fine.”

They’ve given you painkiller and you can tell because you’re starting to ramble but you can’t stop. You desperately wish you could fall back into your dream where Yoongi would hold you and whisper the sweet things. You don’t want to be awake for this part.

“y/n, I know you’re mad—”

“MAD?” you screech, “Mad is an understatement. How are you gonna abandon me when that’s the ONE THING you were so afraid I was gonna do to you? Mad, tch! Why did you even come back? How did you get in here?”

“Do you…?” he trails off, looking very uncertain and suddenly very boyish. Your heart thumps uncomfortably in response. He’s making that little pout that has had girls swooning for a decade and suddenly you notice the cut across his cheekbone and the bruise blossoming across the bridge of his nose.

You jerk against your restraints to grab his face but you are securely locked in place. He presses his lips together and finishes his question, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you nearly shout, “What happened to your face?”

His hand springs back from your face and he goes to touch a cut at the corner of his mouth that you failed to notice. He must see the frantic look in your eyes because he is quick to shrug it off, “It’s nothing. I got into a little confrontation on my way up here. I’m fine. Honestly, you should look in the mirror because you really look like shit.”

He’s deflecting. You’ll allow it for the moment because the longer you are out of your delusions, the more you realize you actually are safe, and now you have other questions that need answering.

“Gee, thanks, pretty sure my psycho ex-manager just tried to kill me so I would expect nothing less,” you tell him sardonically, “You wouldn’t happen to know how I got out of that mess, would you?”

He smiles, relief flooding his features that you aren’t pressing him about his own injuries, and says, “Well, I was on the train back from Daegu when the girls found you missing. They thought one of the boys had tried to break you out of jail but they were secretly trying to keep you here too until I could get here—”

You cut him off, “What do you mean until you got there? Is that why Jimin was taking so long? You were really coming back to break up with me?”

You can’t help it. The tears are welling up in your eyes again. His eyes bug out and his hands are suddenly aflutter around your face as if there’s some secret button hidden there that he can push to stop you from crying. He wipes at your eyes and then carefully presses both palms to either side of your face, making you look at him.

“Are you stupid?” he asks. Your despair shifts back into rage but he doesn’t give you time to speak, “I was coming back for you. Because I was stupid to have ever left you in the first place and I was coming to beg you for your forgiveness and to promise you that I would never leave you again unless you wanted me to go. And to tell you that I love you.”

You squirm, trying to alleviate the sudden soaring of butterflies in your core, but it disturbs your injuries which suddenly light up in flames of pain. Yoongi sighs, peeling one hand from your face to press his palm flat against your stomach so you’ll stop moving. It doesn’t stop the butterflies from their maddening dance.

“You are a terrible boyfriend,” you mumble. He nods in agreement.

“The absolute worst. I’m so, so sorry, y/n. I should have been here with you. I should never have left your side from the moment I dropped you off from the arcade. Then you wouldn’t be like… this.”

You see the glassy look come into his eyes and the lump bobbing in his throat and you realize he’s about to start crying too. He’s been blaming himself for this awful chain of events ever since that night and he never gave you the chance to tell him it was always inevitable.

You wish you could lift your arms and pull him down against you. That you could stroke your fingers through his hair and calm the ache that must be tearing through his chest. You frown at him and ask, “Are you stupid?”

“What?!”

“You cannot blame yourself for anything that Mark does. If you had been there that night, that guy could’ve killed you. If you had been here at the hospital, Mark still would have come. He still would have waited until I was all alone and he would have taken me. This wouldn’t have turned out any different so stop blaming yourself. 

“It’s probably not even your fault that Mark found me in the first place. If he had Lauren’s twitter and Lauren’s phone number, that means he probably found me months ago. He’s probably known all along. He was just waiting for the perfect moment, okay? There was nothing you could have done,” you tell him.

He takes a moment to consider this and then lets out a long sigh, “I should have been here.”

“You should have,” you agree, “Speaking of my would be murderer, what happened?”

“Oh,” Yoongi says as if he has completely forgotten about that asshole, Mark, and then he scowls, “Well, the police arrested him and I actually caught him in the elevator on my way up to you… which is why my face looks like this.”

“Yoongi!!” you cry.

He throws his head back and laughs, “It was worth it! Honestly, y/n, you should see his face. These are actually from one of the police officers trying to get me off of him. Mark looks a lot worse!”

“He’s gonna sue you for assault,” you scold him, wishing more than ever that you could reach for his face and erase the marks left there.

“That’s fine,” Yoongi says with a shrug, “I’m rich, remember? And nobody is going to be upset with me for throttling a man who tried to murder my girlfriend. I won’t even get negative press over this, okay? And it made me feel a lot better knowing he was hurting after what he did to you. He’ll never hurt you again.”

His nostrils are flared and there is hatred in his dark eyes. You sigh, upset that he risked getting hurt for you but so overwhelmed by the fact that he cares enough for you to have done it in the first place.

“I love you, Yoongi” you whisper.

Your words catch him off guard and he stares down at you blankly for a long moment. You wait, patient for the first time in your life, for your words to register and when they do, he breaks out in his wide, gummy grin.

“I know you’re still mad at me,” he starts, his fingers fiddling the fabric of the hospital gown at your waist. There’s a fire starting down there that makes you want to squirm for relief but you don’t dare move. He presses his lips together, thinking carefully of how to make his request, and asks, “Do you think I could start making it up to you?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”

He leans down, the one hand still pressed to your stomach, the other gently caressing your face, and presses his lips softly to yours. He’s kissed you before. Shy kisses in his bed the night you finally confessed your feelings to each other and more frenzied makeouts in dark corners of loud arcade rooms. Coffee laced kisses on early mornings. Lazy kisses in his studio that you’ve mentioned to no one.

But you are determined that this one should top all the others.

You open your mouth to let his tongue tangle with yours and sigh when his fingers move to loop not so gentle knots in your hair. Your fingers curl, aching to hold him but secured firmly at your sides, and you break the kiss briefly to whine at him about the straps holding you down.

He laughs a husky, breathless chuckle that catches in his throat. It’s not fair that he holds all the power in this exchange though, and you demand to be freed. Kissing the tip of your nose affectionately, he loosens the strap around your torso just enough for you to slip your arms free.

You do, snaking them around his neck, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the base of his neck as you pull him as close to you as you can manage. It is a mixture of pain and pleasure as the weight of him jostles your injuries but you don’t want him anywhere else.

Your lips meet again hungrily and you don’t waste time parting them. Your tongues dance as if they’re meeting for the first time and a low moan hums in your throat. Yoongi pulls back, his dark eyes fiery with his desire for you.

“Oh god, y/n,” he gasps, “You can’t make noises like that when you’re injured like this. I’m going to get carried away and forget to be gentle with you.”

You only laugh and coax his lips back down to yours. You’d like to trace your lips across his jaw… and down his neck… and lower… and lower… but you settle for letting him explore your mouth instead. His hand, splayed across your stomach, begins to explore too and the fire in your core grows almost too intense.

You gently bite at his lip, a warning to cool it when you both know you can’t go much farther than this in the condition you’re in. He pulls back, whispering an apology against your lips, and you decide to offer him a promise in return, “I heal fast, sir. And when I do, I don’t want you to be gentle with me at all.”

He whimpers and it’s all the satisfaction you need.

[izzabeean]

Chapter 12 : Uncertainty

SUMMARY

A new situation presents itself that causes you to rethink a couple of things.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 3,299

content : profanity, slightly suggestive nsfw

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : another late chapter because it's been a bit difficult to sit myself down and write this one, it's a bit of a long one. I know no one is meant to address weaknesses but the dialogue is so hard for me to write! but anyway please enjoy xx

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Alone, at last.

The serene silence of the apartment fills you with relief as Oikawa left you by yourself to go out for a jog. Seeing as you haven’t had much time to yourself since moving in with him, you weren't extremely grateful to be able to sit back, relax and watch your favorite show for what seems like the zillionth time.

But this surge of anxiety rumbles from within while your mind seems to spiral wondering where Iwaizumi could be. He still hasn’t come back from his outing, hasn’t even updated when he will be back. And your attempt to distract yourself isn’t remotely engaging as you continue to check your phone for messages. 

Maybe there’s a personal reason why he is taking so long. 

Yes, he’s with friends, yet the word ‘friend’ could be defined so inconsistently on your tongue. For instance, a friend could be the beginning of a possible more-than-friends scenario or the description of a secret relationship. Perhaps a girl he didn’t want to tell anyone about or perhaps even a promised fuck-buddy agreement for when he visits. 

You grind your teeth wishing you could stop the worry festering. And because you’ve started to rummage in what if delusions, you decide that the only cure is to light a smoke.

Oikawa hasn’t been out for long and told you he’d be gone for an hour or so. So, you take the chance to keep your secret still a secret, by looking for the cartridge stashed in your jacket. 

Weird, you think sifting through the pocket to which you find nothing. Even when searching the rest of your things, other pockets, and bags, you can’t seem to locate the pack. It’s been a while since your last smoke and try to trace your tracks to where it could possibly have gone to. Obviously, it wouldn’t get up and leave... 

Usually, it wouldn’t aggravate you this much to find something, often you were used to misplacing things and having them show up eventually. However, this down-right pissed you off. You eye up your jacket persuading yourself you have enough time to go out to the corner store and grab a pack. The nearest shop is a couple of blocks away and you can have it out there instead of at the apartment where Oikawa can definitely catch you. 

But in your head, the plan seems too risky trying to play it out. And instead, you let out a yawn grabbing a textbook off your desk remembering that you should probably be a good student instead of pursuing bad habits.

Walking into the living room, you lower the television volume to create some background noise so the place isn’t totally quiet making you vulnerable to the slightest floor creek. The apartment sounds aren’t what you’re used to and you most definitely predict your paranoia will obliterate your concentration. 

That’s not all that does though. 

The warm cozy lighting in the room starts to relax your mind a bit more while you start to take notes. It could be the fact you’re reading a piece of text from one of your most boring classes or due to another long day, but you find yourself reading the same paragraph over again, and over again, and over again trying to absorb the content on the pages. You pinch yourself to stay awake whilst your vision starts to blur and slowly your eyes slowly close… 

------

You’re in your apartment bathroom. 

It’s not quite the same sleek compact room you’re used to-- the walls are covered in water damage, with the paint slowly peeling off some parts and the floor is torn up exposing the old floorboards. 

The new decor doesn't phase you though as you lean in towards the mirror touching up your lashes with a thin coat of mascara. Once you back up to take a look at your reflection checking for any flaws, you notice a sense of familiarity in this inspection. Like you've lived this all before. A part of you chuckles thinking you're just paranoid, but an unexpected knock echoes the room causing you to jump.

You freeze, listening closely as you try to quiet your breathing wondering if you were just hearing things. You must be.

Analyzing your reflection more, you notice you're dressed up in the same clothes you were going to wear that night you and Ushijima were supposed to celebrate your final year at university together. The same night he broke up with you.

Curiosity mixed with fear causes your eyes to glaze over not wanting to relive that moment again. 

Another knock sounds.

Before you could persuade yourself to stop, you walk out into the hallway to answer the door. The anguish in your chest grows stronger and stronger while the suspense heightens upon getting closer and closer. All you ever wanted was to be happy with someone who accepts you for who you are. Someone that would be there for you through thick and thin. And here you are once again reliving the thing that haunts you the most. You don’t know if you can take the rejection again, but your body can't stop. It wants to see Ushijima.

Reaching for the cold knob you turn the handle slowly opening the door that emanates Ushijima's daunting aura. Horror that once filled your eyes almost instantly vanishes though because instead, you face Iwaizumi.

“What are you doing here?” you breathe. “I’m supposed to--”

You're cut off by an aggressive push from Iwaizumi into your apartment. You don't flinch as your entire body freezes in shock from him pressing you up against a wall. It’s dangerous how close he is, you can see his pupils dilate as he pulls in closer, bending down to nuzzle his face into your neck. You feel a rush of electricity that tingles from the top of your head to your toes.

“You’ve been wanting this for a while now,” Iwaizumi hums. “Haven’t you?”

His teeth graze against your neck as he forces his knee between your legs and slides it upward. You let your body melt into it with a soft gasp as your nerves excite.

He pulls back and you’re dying to see the look he has on his face, but notice you are no longer looking at Iwaizumi… No, now you’re looking at Oikawa. 

Your eyes widen as his face dips down towards you, but you dodge and push him in an attempt to free yourself. He doesn’t budge leaning in closer tilting your chin up with his hands so he can look you in the eyes. His touch is gentle, not threatening but his eyes are drunk with lust.

“I thought it was me you wanted,” he purrs, eyes searching in yours for an answer.

But your throat squeezes shut restricting you from forming the words you wish to and his face inches closer closing in the space between you. You thought you’d be more reluctant for this to stop, but the thrill igniting inside you pushes you further as you slowly slide your hand into Oikawa’s hair. Closing your eyes waiting to be entangled in each other, but the kiss doesn’t connect.

When you open your eyes, you’re in your room sitting on your bed next to Ushijima. Everything feels lighter contrasting to the enticing atmosphere from before. 

He pushes the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. You can’t look away seeing as this is the closest you’ve been to him since you were together. 

It feels like home. It feels right.

He runs his thumb over your lips as he leans in sealing his lips over yours. 

No, we shouldn’t, your brain screams, but you let yourself indulge in his warm soft kiss as he holds you close.

------

The act instantly jolts you awake.

You blink still feeling the essence of Ushijima’s kiss linger on your lips and the traces of his hands holding you close. But it looks like you’re not alone as you find yourself facing Iwaizumi who’s holding up a blanket.

“D--did I wake you?” he asks, straightening himself up, startled by your sudden rouse.

“No, no,” you say, before sitting up. Your heart almost skips a beat as you immediately envision Iwaizumi pressing up against you. And, as if on cue, your ears start to burn up unable to actually look at him before rubbing your eyes hoping to hide from the sheer embarrassment plastered all over your face. 

“How did it go… With your friends?” you express, in an attempt to change the subject to leave behind your suggestive dream.

“It was good,” he sighs, taking a seat beside you on the couch. “Had a lot to catch up on. You should meet them actually, I feel like you’d all get along.”

“That’d be cool,” you smile.

Then it occurs to you this is the first time you’ve been alone together since the kiss. Your options could be to completely avoid the topic as if it never happened, but a little voice inside keeps reminding you to say something. But how can you when even speaking about your actions is deeply embarrassing? Why didn’t you just think before you act? Then perhaps, this awkward conversation you’re about to have wouldn’t have to happen.

“But maybe warn them, if you plan to kiss them,” he teases.

“Um…” you feel your face grow hot at his words wondering if Iwaizumi can read your thoughts. “About that…”

“Hm?” Iwaizumi blinks.

“I’m sorry if it came out of nowhere, there was just a lot going on in such a and I just -- It was uncalled for… I didn’t mean--”

Iwaizumi lets out a laugh causing you to pause.

“What?” You suddenly feel stupid for bringing this up, thinking you’ve missed the reason as to what’s so funny.

“Sorry,” he shrugs. “You were just trying to make your ex jealous, right?”

Yes, you were, but there was more to it than that.

“Mm,” you reply, unsure of what else to say.

“Don’t you think Oikawa would have been a better contender to piss Ushijima off?”

“I mean… I think it was more than that,” you begin, but lose your courage to confess anymore as Iwaizumi gazes at you with an unreadable expression. “Cause you know, you’re new and he’s never seen you before and so it’s more…  Mysterious?”

It sounded more like a question as if you were trying to convince yourself too, but Iwaizumi doesn’t ask further.

“Of course,” he replies so a matter of factly, you feel stupid. Like you’re self-sabotaging yourself. 

“I guess it did sort of work seeing as he punched Oikawa,” he adds.

Your face softens at Iwaizumi’s remark in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“I mean, if it really worked he would’ve punched you,” you joke. “Oikawa persuaded Ushijima all on his own.” 

You both laugh and you know, now, that it wasn’t such a bad idea to talk about it.

“Well if you ever need to get Ushijima off your back, I can pretend to be your boyfriend.”

Huh?

You weren’t quite sure if you heard that correctly, seeing how nonchalant he is. And when you don’t reply and continue to gaze at Iwaizumi wide-eyed, he’s quick to reply.

“I mean, if you need one,” he continues.

You laugh nervously. At this point, you’re definitely not sure what he’s thinking about, but the fact he so blatantly offered such an outlandish task, makes you wonder if he’s on the same page as you. Is it so obvious to him, that you think he’s hot, that you enjoy spending time with him?

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, as calmly as you can, trying to suppress the excitement bursting inside. “When’s your last day?”

“Next week.”

“That sucks,” you spit out. “I mean! It’s cool you get to go to school in California, but just sucks you’re going to be leaving”

“We can still keep in touch,” he replies softly.

“You better,” you tease. “I’m jealous you have it all figured out.”

“You will too.” 

“Doubtful,” you groan. “But I’m trying to stay optimistic.”

“You’ve got lots of time,” he sighs.

Silence encompasses the space between the two of your time limit with Iwaizumi worries you more. You’re happy he gets to pursue his dream, but you wonder if there's more to why you got to see him again. It feels wrong for wishing him to not leave, the essence of selfishness rolls through you as your conscience nags for you to stop.

"I hope so."

------ 

It’s the beginning of a new week and you’ve finished your morning class.

But it's very hard to forget the conversation you had with Iwaizumi about the kiss, about him leaving. As much as you’d like him not to leave, to see where things could go, you know it isn’t your best interest to start dating someone new so. You’re not like Ushijima. You’d much rather die than ever admit that you are the same as him. Luckily, you are not. You have morals and you’re a much, much better person than him. 

Your name rings down the hall as you stroll towards the exit and turn to see Sara trying to catch up to you. You haven’t seen her since the evening Oikawa swung at Ushijima and honestly had been avoiding her since. Though you did know, you’d have to face her eventually, you preferred it being during class where you can gently brush her off.

“How are you, I haven’t seen you since the other night,” she breathes, trying to catch her breath from basically booking it down the hall.

“I’m fine,” you grunt, unapologetic to how cold it sounds, yet Sara pays no mind to it as she continues to beam with excitement.

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“For?” 

“For inviting Ushijima,” she replies, her voice unwavering. “I didn’t find out until later that he’s your ex.”

“Did he tell you?”

“Well, he did that night,” she chuckles, then clears her throat when you raise your eyebrows at her in displeasure. “I was mortified that he didn’t even tell me. I told him who would be there and he didn’t say anything.”

You're quiet, trying to make sense of Sara's explanation. Why is she even telling you this? Is it because you're in a group together? She could have just pretended nothing ever happened and keep things strictly school-related. If this were you, you'd be: 1) pissed your significant other didn't tell you about an ex and 2) would avoid the ex like a plague. Yet here she is, standing in front of you, apologizing. Nothing seemed to add up.

“And you didn’t get mad?” you ask, unable to comprehend Sara's reasons for confronting you.

“Oh my god no, why would I be mad?” she laughs again. 

“I thought you were close?” 

“Close? I guess, but he’s just been showing me around.”

"Huh?" you blink.

“He’s part of a program here, to help new students.”

You blink again.

“Y/N? You there?”

“Yeah…  I just-- you were-- I thought… What’s the program?”

“Um, he's assigned to a new student to help settle in for the first week on campus...”

Your mind flashes back to the other day when Ushijima showed up at your apartment wanting to tell you something, then to the time he tried to chat with you at the restaurant. Was that it? That it's just been a misconception all this time. 

"... One time he showed me around the city, but that's about it," she continues, forcing you out of your thoughts. The keyword showed me around the city rings setting an alarm to when you first saw them together. That day, it felt like your heart got ripped out and thrown on the ground with your entire body submerged in an unfathomable sense of agony. You were destroyed.

“So... you normally just hang out with him at school?” 

“Yeah. He's the only person I know on campus,” she snorts. "That's why I invited him, as thanks. Regardless I feel like a complete idiot. I’m so sorry I invited him, I totally didn’t mean to put you in an awkward situation.”

You feel perplexed and look away, trying to figure out how to take the information. 

Nothing and everything makes sense at once. As if you had stepped into a dream world and your body is separately itself from reality as you trying to mull the information you've just absorbed.  

“Forget it," you say, forcing a smile. "I-- I have to get to class.” 

“Oh, of course. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” you smile, walking in the opposite direction. "I'll see you around."

You sigh realizing you misjudged Ushijima entirely. No wonder he wanted to speak to you and all you've been doing is giving him a cold shoulder. Maybe, guilt can describe the feelings swimming in the pit of your stomach, completely blinded by wrath. You had to tell Oikawa-- 

Buzz!

Scooping out your phone from your pocket you check down to see a text from said guy. It says: just finished class. you on campus?

You quickly send a reply then your eyes flicker up to a familiar figure walking towards you.

Iwaizumi.

“What are you doing here?” you say.

“Came to drop off Shittykawa’s books," he replies. "He forgot them for his next class.”

“I can take it to him, I was just headed to meet up with him,” you smile.

“Thanks,” he grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I was kind of hoping to run into you….” 

------

I’ll be in the courtyard.

Oikawa reads a text from you and gives a small smile walking in the direction of the destination. Your company is always something he admires especially to kill time between classes. But it was never killing time with you. Instead, it seemed to always go by too fast, like he never had enough of you. His heart starts to race as he nears the courtyard and he doesn’t know why but he’s feeling extra giddy today. Perhaps he woke up in a good mood or perhaps it feels like for once he’s getting somewhere with you by the fact you’ve opened up to him and have been a lot friendlier than usual. 

Then he sees you. You’re easy to spot. And he starts to talk a tad quicker, but as you become more in view, he sees you talking to Iwaizumi. His entire body freezes.

------

“I was hoping to spend my last day… With you,” Iwaizumi mumbles. “Oikawa has class during the day and I wanted to see if I could snag you.”

Oh. 

Your eyes widen with surprise and excitement as the words echo in your head.

“If you’re available that is,” Iwaizumi quickly adds.

You grin at him. “Yeah, of course. I’d like that!”

“Awesome, I look forward to it,” he says casually before turning around to leave. 

“Iwaizumi…”

He stops and turns back to you.

“The books?” 

“Oh right, I totally--”

He rushes back over to hand them over, yet the books gently graze your finger and fall to the ground. Both of you react by swooping down to pick them up and from your eagerness accidentally bumps your forehead into Iwaizumi, making loud bonk.

“Oh my god are you ok?” you ask while holding your forehead from the surprise collision.

“Yes, are you ok?” he chuckles while rendering a small smile.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “Sorry I got excited.”

Your face feels hot from how close he is and his contagious laugh. It’s nice and feels... exhilarating. Unlike anything, you’ve felt before from someone. 

Suddenly your moment is interrupted by the sound of your phone going off. 

It’s your mom.

[yslkook]

complicated

pairing: seokjin x reader summary: in which you and seokjin are figuring your “relationship” out. word count: 2415 warnings: cursing, alcohol, brief smut (like very brief) a/n: a part two to ships in the night. ty to @taestybae​ for listening to me rant about this!!

You and Seokjin somehow find your rhythm, even after months of being out of sync with each other. It makes him nervous, how easily he falls back into his friendship with you. It scares him how now that he’s allowed to, he sees you in a different light.

Like you had said. It was a cliche, that he was coming to terms with his seemingly hidden feelings for you after a three year long engagement with another woman. Another woman that he hardly thinks of these days. Because all he can think about is how soft you feel curled up next to him, and how your hands feel intertwined with his. All he can think about is how your face lights up when you see him, as if he’s the only one in the room.

It’s been almost eight months since Jin had ended his engagement with Taeyeon. He doesn’t know what the appropriate time is to wait into jumping into another relationship after a failed engagement. But does it bother you? 

You don’t like complicated. So you let him hold your hand. You let him kiss you. You let him sleep in your bed, reminding you of when you were both in college. You let him hold you in a way that is definitely more than friendly.

Yoongi tells you that you should ask him what he’s thinking. Ask him where you stand with him. But the idea of complicating whatever you have with Jin doesn’t sound very appealing. Yoongi tells you that you’ll break your own heart again if you don’t figure your shit out with Jin. Jimin gives you flirty eyes and his warm smile, finally happy that his two friends who were like his older siblings finally are venturing out of the bounds of friendship. And Jungkook worries that you’ll get hurt.

They’re all probably right. And you deserve better than a boy, regardless if he’s your best friend or not, have you out of sheer convenience. But you know Jin. You know his heart, and you know when he’s genuine. But still, you make a promise to yourself. That you’ll talk to him at some point.

Jin had asked you to accompany him to his parents’ house for dinner about a week later. You think nothing of it- you’re closer to his family than your own family. You had contemplated whether you should dress more casually or dress up a little. You decide on dressing up a little bit, wearing a blouse tucked into your pants and a brown plaid jacket. The way Jin’s eyes widen as you swipe your lip gloss on makes it worth it, you think.

“You look better than I do,” Jin whines, pulling you into his side and dropping a kiss to your lips quickly. You swipe at his bottom lip to take the remnants of your gloss off of him. It should be strange, how easy kissing him was. 

“God forbid,” You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“We’ll be the only tens in the house. Well, I’m an eleven, but you’ll do,” Jin says and you scoff fondly.

“Alright, keep dreamin’, Jin. Keep living in your delusions. I won’t burst your bubble.”

“Kim Seokjin!” You hiss at him, swatting your hand over his shoulder, “You did not tell me that your brother and his pregnant wife were coming. And your cousins. And your aunts and uncles! You ambushed me!”

“What’s the big deal?” Jin hisses back, rubbing his shoulder, “They all love you anyway! You act like this is the first time-”

“The first time! It is the first time, you idiot,” You pull him to you by the lapels of his jacket, cursing his stupidly handsome face, “It’s the first time I’ve been around your entire family while we’re doing whatever it is that we’re doing!

“No wonder your mother is looking at me like she has a secret,” You rant, “Oh my god, and your brother- he looked so fuckin’ happy to see us. Oh my god-”

“Hey,” Jin says sharply, “Will you relax?”

“Seokjin! No, I will not relax! Can’t believe I had to be ambushed just to get an answer out of you for what it is we’re doing here-”

Jin sighs and pulls you into his arms, muffling your surprised gasp. You melt into his hug quickly, and most of your irritation has washed away. He’s always been an instant source of calm for you, and this time is no different.

“Is that what this is about?” Jin murmurs and before you can snark at him, he clasps his hand over your mouth, “You’re mine and I’m yours. That’s how it’s always been. And that’s it. Doesn’t have to be so complicated, baby.”

“Complicated…” You echo, feeling your muscles relax, “Unconditionally?”

“Yeah. Unconditionally.”

At the end of the night, when Jin’s father insists on a family picture with everyone in it, you don’t even feel out of place pressed up against Jin. You squeeze his hand in yours tightly and smile.

It’s not so complicated.

You almost drop your coffee when you see none other than Taeyeon, Jin’s ex-fiancee, staring at you as if you have ten heads.

“Uh,” You say eloquently, squeezing your cup of coffee. You had gone to your favorite coffee shop after work to pick up pastries for you and Jin before seeing him later that evening.

Taeyeon finally gives you a weak wiggle of her fingers. “Hey. Long time no see,” She says. She looks good, you think. She looks happy. Happier than when she was with Jin.

“You look good,” You comment, voicing your thoughts out loud, “How have you been, Taeyeon?”

Your heart is slamming in your chest, for some unknown reason. You can’t help but feel guilty all of a sudden. Even if you had done nothing when her and Jin had been together.

“Good. How have you been?” Taeyeon says politely.

“Good,” You echo. What does she want with you? She seems to hesitate for a minute before sighing deeply.

“Will you sit with me for a minute?” Taeyeon says quietly. Your lips part in surprise, eyebrows shooting up to your hairline.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” You murmur and lead her to one of the tables by the windows, “So how are you really? I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me. Considering…” You trail off, your eyes meeting hers.

“Yeah,” Taeyeon nods, “I didn’t. Want to hear from you, that is.”

“Fair,” You reply, “Not sure why you wanna hear from me now, then. Want a croissant?” You take a freshly baked croissant from the box and hand it to her. Her eyes glaze over your left hand, namely your ring finger. Before she can protest, you shove it in her hands and she murmurs a soft ‘thanks’.

“You bringing those for Seokjin?” Taeyeon says, not an ounce of bitterness in her voice. She was always too good. Better than you could ever be.

“Yeah,” You say simply. Part of you wants to say ‘is it any of your business?’ but you refrain. You’re certain this is hard for her. But she’s the one who wanted to talk.

“I was thinking about you the other day,” She says softly. Taeyeon is just full of surprises today, isn’t she. “I just…”

“Taeyeon… You don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do this. You can hate me-”

“Hate you? I never hated you,” Taeyeon says, taking a sip of her coffee, “Okay, maybe I did for a little. But that was only because you were the easiest person to blame at the time. Seokjin and I would have never been happy together.”

You stay quiet, chewing nervously on your bottom lip.

“I moved on. There’s no reason for him not to,” Taeyeon continues, her voice soft and melodious as it carries through. You raise your head in surprise, trying to mask it quickly. But she picks up on it and smiles.

“That’s great, Taeyeon. I’m happy for you,” You say, and you mean it. Her eyes brighten at your words and she gives you one of her show-stopping smiles. The smile that Seokjin fell in love with all those years ago.

“He hasn’t put a ring on you yet?” She says, half jokingly and you snort.

“How do you know I haven’t put a ring on him yet?” You wink at her. You remember why you had defended her to your friends when they said that her and Jin didn’t fit- she was genuinely so nice. But that didn’t take away from the fact that they didn’t fit. You missed her friendship, and that revelation has you surprised.

“He seems to be taking his sweet time. Considering that you were one of the reasons we ended things,” Taeyeon says airily. You wince at her oblivious bluntness.

“Taking his time with what?”

“Making you his. The way you should’ve been from the beginning.”

Breath seems to be stolen from your throat at her words and you choke on your coffee. “Taeyeon…”

“I’m only saying. He broke an engagement for you. What are you both scared of?”

“It’s…” You exhale, somehow trying to reconcile that you’re speaking about your relationship with Jin with his ex-fiancee, “Complicated. It’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

Jin’s head is in between your legs, your back braced over the couch. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging lightly as a lewd moan escapes you. Despite his lips dotting your inner thighs in kisses, his hands flat over your hips… Your mind is preoccupied. 

Taeyeon’s words replay in your mind on loop. Jin can tell you’re distracted and he pulls away with a sigh and with rosy lips.

“Babe,” He sighs, “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” You mumble, wrapping your legs around his waist to nudge him by the heels of your feet. Jin lays on top of you, shoving a hand up your shirt to play with your tits lazily.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I saw Taeyeon today. Your ex-fiancee, remember her?” You say bluntly and Jin freezes for a second, his fingers clamped around your nipple.

“Of course I remember my ex-fiancee,” Jin hisses, squeezing your waist, “What could my girl possibly be talking to my ex-fiancee about?”

“What else do we have in common?” You roll your eyes, “You. And croissants. She looks good. She’s happy, told me about the girl she’s seeing.”

“And you? Are you happy?”

“She said something funny,” You say, ignoring his question, “Said you broke your engagement for me and that it was stupid that we weren’t together.”

“Not together? You think we’re not together?” Jin asks incredulously, “This is fuckin’ weird, baby. Because Taeyeon said we’re not together, you think we’re not together?”

“I don’t think anything, baby,” You say stubbornly, “It’s...complicated.”

“What’s complicated? I’m yours and you’re mine. That’s all there is to it, remember?” Jin murmurs, cradling your face. You pull him down for a hungry kiss. You don’t want to talk about it anymore. You only want him.

Hoseok’s New Year’s Eve party, or the party of the year as he dubbed it, was in full swing. Bottles of alcohol were opened on the designated table, red, black and gold streamers and decorations all over his apartment, with everyone dressed in either red, black or gold to match the theme. As per his request.

You were wearing a tight, red midi dress. Jin nearly convinced you to stay home, with his wandering hands and lingering touches. But you wanted to end the year with a bang, and you’d be damned if he held you up. He was hot, and you thought it was cute when his ears reddened at your soft sigh when you saw him.

You’re about four drinks deep, in the middle of drinking games with equally, if not more, tipsy friends and you’ve never been happier. You cheer loudly when your team wins, giving Jungkook and Yoongi’s girlfriend kisses on the cheek at your victory.

Seokjin is on a mission to get you alone. When he finally gets his chance, inching his way in between you and Taehyung, you grin widely at him. With your arms flat on his chest.

“Hey,” You purr, “Missed you.”

“Wanna tell you something,” Jin says, a little desperately and takes you outside, on Hoseok’s balcony.

“Outside? It’s cold,” You complain, rubbing your bare arms. Jin immediately draws you into his chest, replacing your hands with his. As nice as it is, you’re still cold.

“I need to talk to you,” Jin pleads, taking your chin in his hands.

“Jin,” You ask worriedly, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I love you,” Jin exhales, “I love you so much.”

“I know that,” You smile, heart still skipping a beat at his words. 

“No, you don’t understand,” Jin says frantically, “I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you. Even when I didn’t know it, I was. You are my best friend, my soulmate, and I am in love with you.”

“O-oh. Like that,” You murmur. His words are new, but for some reason, you don’t feel any different. Maybe it’s because you’ve known for the last few months. You’ve known how he felt about you. But still. His words are everything. 

“Yeah. Like that.”

“I’ve been so in love with you for… God, I don’t even know how long,” You sigh dreamily, melting into his kisses over your cheek, your forehead, your chin, “Say it again, Jinnie.”

“I’m in love with you,” A kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I love you-” A kiss to your eyebrow, “I fuckin’ love you,” A kiss to your lips.

“Want to end the year with you as my girlfriend,” Jin murmurs into your neck, “And start the next year with you as my girlfriend. Will you do that for me? Will you do that with me?”

“Yeah,” You nod, almost shy, “Fuck, yeah. I’ll do that with you.”

“I wanna do everything with you,” Jin sighs, “Every fuckin’ thing, babe. Do it all with me. I love you. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Your heart is singing, you feel like you’re floating and when Jin kisses you at midnight in front of all of your friends… Even dipping you dramatically. The cheers of your friends are muted with the press of Jin’s warm lips on yours with the promise of a future together.

It’s not so complicated.

[animatedrapture]

RINTOBER: [ Achilles' Heel ]

word count: 2,222

suna rintarō x reader

tags: ambiguous end, implied major character death, angst, implied sexual intercourse, toxic relationship, detailed pain(?)

song: achilles come down - gang of youths

a/n: HALLOWEEN SPECIAL because... death...?

a HUGE thank you, once again, to my wonderful wife, love of my life, bby @toffees-main 🥺 for proofreading the final piece and preventing me from sounding like a dumbass like, twice. also, thank you to @newfriendjen and @kaitycole for beta-reading the initial draft!

"Rin, Rintarō, I love you!" You shouted from the bleachers; a proud smile decorating your features as you cheered for him right after he'd hit the ball to the other side of the net, securing EJP Raijin another point—so close to winning.

His gaze and yours were two opposites of a pole with a pull unparalleled—a pull science can only wish to decipher. He finds you as he rotates through the set up and there's a beam in his eyes, making him break out into a grin you just know he couldn't find it in himself to reserve for later.

That day, that match—Suna Rintarō was named the MVP of the game. He owed it all to you and the swell of his heart with each cheer he heard from you; your voice distinct as if it were the only one that mattered in that whole gymnasium. Perhaps, at least that time, you truly were all that mattered to him.

But not anymore.

The first—the first was the lack of replies, the dryer replies. I love you's met with Love you's and very little effort to hide the lack of sincerity beneath. It began through texts until it was the quick, snipped tone laced with the parsimonious manner he answered you. The act of it was much like an attempt to deprive you of water until you're but withering rose in his grasp that he would rather replace than try to plant again and save.

Just how long were you willing to go without the water you needed to stay alive?

"Rin, love, I'll prepare dinner for us tonight, come home early, okay? I'm cooking your favorite!"

"I'll try," was his reply as you watched each of his hasty movements through your shared bedroom.

"I prepared you a bento, too. It's on the kitchen counter," you continued as he attempted to ignore the way you looked at him similar to the way you look when you're lost and searching for something. He hums in response, and just as he was about to reach for the door, you call out to him, "Rin, where's my goodbye kiss?" in the usual tone you would pull back then when he would forget and pepper you with kisses in retaliation, offering an apology before heading out.

He looks back at you with exasperation, "I'm late, Y/N." He doesn't wait for you to answer before he has the door shut close.

That's how you know he also forgot the food you prepared on the kitchen counter.

Foolishly, the answer to the question was that you were willing to wait until your next life for his love to drown you into bliss again. It's that answer that's disrespectful to the mystery of reincarnation—but you're everything Suna Rintarō wanted you to be; that is, if it was a fool he wanted you to be, you would play the part better than any award winning actor to have ever lived could. Even if it was a miscreant he wanted you to be, some sort of heretic to the laws of the world and the conditions of love. You'd be everything he asked of you. After all, who were you if not his other half?

Who were you if not water to shape into whatever container he put you in, right?

The second—the second was the lies that slipped past such sinful crimson lips. Oh, by the heavens, as if the lack of fondness in the timbre of his voice as he spoke to you wasn't enough to put cracks to the cemented foundation of you and him. Cruel, it's so cruel—you wonder if you're lacking somewhere, have you changed? Are you no longer diamond in the sea of glitter—? Worth not of his time nor the beating of the caged heart you thought you've acquired?

Now when he speaks, even the very sound of his voice reverberates like a sharp spear piercing through your chest without mercy—as if you're Spartan in the Battle of Thermopylae. The lies that come along with them about how training ended late again, or that he's travelling for a match again—Huh? No, you don't have to come, Y/N. I need to focus.

Did he have to lie about who he's with, what he's been doing? It's laughable. As if you wouldn't kiss away the taste of anything that lingered in his lips, if it was blood, alcohol or the lips of another girl. Rintarō, did he not know you enough to know you would surrender to his will no matter what mud followed his footsteps?

Ah, but, what would admitting such things do to his pride? Maybe it's that—or maybe he liked the way the lies were like lemon and salt to a fresh wound. You think, you never thought you could be so masochistic.

Third—the third is the sharpness of his gaze. It's the same gaze, same pair of eyes you've loved for such a long time and you fail not to love to this very moment. You're softer than clouds but now most hollow in comparison to the unacquirable stars among the cosmos—you think they're there but they're just a burst of light, something that has probably died lightyears ago.

It's like chokehold, the fourth—the fourth is like chokehold and he, the assassin. Ruthless—he's ruthless when he looks at you as you're not more than a tedious chore to him and the ring on your finger held no promise of relentless love greater than what a deity could offer.

Foolish—you're foolish. Delusion is a coping mechanism to the ones whose realities have been robbed in front of them—delusion is what you're supposed to call it when you fill your head with all the excuses and all the things you tell yourself have to change. You used to be a masterpiece. A masterpiece to him; as though you're Holy Grail found in a gallery of things that could never begin to hope they would ever amount to you.

Delusion is ignoring the liquor in his lips, the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with alcohol and cigarette smoke. You're confused and your reality that seems to have been distorting more often than usual. You question the strings that premeditate fate when it's you feeling the drunkenness and hangover the next day when it should be Suna and the tabloids of "Suna Rintarō spotted in yet another bar." You wonder if each sunset and sunrise you watched with Suna was a mere fever dream when it's you who vomits on the toilet. You, who sobs on the bathroom floor.

"Sfumato," your friend tells you, "The gentle blurring of edges to make rendered objects appear as one with their environment." The edges blur when you call that delusion as love—you only have to wait long enough before both are truly one and the same. The pain disguised as martyr sacrifice to the greatest allegory of love to exist. This is what you're told. They say, "Y/N, you've confused love with delusion," and yet you don't listen.

You don't listen most of all when you're back underneath him but you feel like you're being bloodied all over, stained like wine to a white dress. Yet you allow yourself to indulge in the kisses he's abated you of, you revel in each time you ask him to tell you he loves you and he finally does as he luxuriates you of your desires and of your whines for love—nevermind that he was doing it for himself. After all, it is as the word suggests, a luxury.

Suna Rintarō had become a luxury you couldn't afford, therefore, he did not have any business of giving himself to you. Not unless he wanted to.

Is there such thing as a free reign over the heart of someone? Hand it over as they will but how long would they truly allow you to borrow it—? Borrow it because one never truly surrenders such a vital thing to human functioning. Yes, you are and you have been delusional to believe so.

"You own the entirety of my heart, Y/N," you're unsure whenever it echoes in your head. He brings you enough torture, why must your own brain create such clamor in your head. Was such pain necessary? Is pain to love much like Adam's rib to Eve?

"It's a promise ring, bunny," he said as he tucked your hair behind your ears—his gaze is intense, almost like you would disappear from his sight if he looked at anywhere or anything but you.

You stared at the ring that shone under the light of the restaurant, your vision blurring at the tears welling from your eyes and you try your best to choke in the sob that involuntarily escapes you.

"Hey, Y/N, what are you cryin' for?" He questioned with a chuckle, looking at you with amusement dancing in his eyes while his thumbs reached out to wipe away each tear that betrayed you—falling down your cheeks as he cupped your face.

"I-it's nothing, I—I'm just happy, love," you answer him through your tears.

There's a smile playing across his lips, he tells you, "'m just making a promise that I'll marry you one day, bunny, is all."

You nodded eagerly with a wide smile even as the tears that left you continued to fall, "I'm making a promise to say yes, Rin. No matter what," you answered him through your sobs, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Guess I should start practicing to get on one knee then, yeah?" He laughed as he pulled you closer, his arms around you, you giggled along with him—it felt like you were molded together to form one perfect piece, like the act of staying there for all of eternity, in each other's arms, would turn you into one. Entangled together in all the right ways—as if Rapture has befallen the Earth and that was your final state as did the universe.

The fifth—the fifth is the screaming, the fights. Who would have thought you would break like a mere twig stepped on in the darkest forest on this Earth? It was under his shoe did you break from; each word that left his mouth was scathing—they didn't feel like a stab or pins and needles to the human heart, they felt like burns of acid that slowly ate at your decaying soul, breaking heart, dwindling sanity.

"I don't get it, Rin! Why do you treat me like this?!" You screamed through your tears, your chest heaving as your lungs tried its best to support you, even when it's already been punctured by the shattered pieces of your heart that continued to beat in separate shards, digging further into your lungs, damaging your ribcage, piercing your throat.

"Please, God, just tell me what to do—Rintarō, tell me what I need to do to turn us back to the way we were, please," you begged, falling to your knees and you let the shattered items on the floor puncture your skin. You felt numb yet your whole body was buzzing. The pain from the pieces of glass from under you doesn't register in your brain because all you can feel is the pain that was spreading from your chest and out into your whole body.

Under his mercy had he turned you inside out and greedily taken every part of you—everything you surrendered on your own volition until you were nothing, not even a shell of yourself but more like a ghost floating through the air. It looked like a battlefield—and perhaps it was. Love was never something you come out alive from. Love was greedy, selfish, treacherous. Love is like an assailant you allowed to enter in the safety of your own home.

"Don't you get it? Y/N, I don't love you anymore!"

No. You think, no. No, it repeats in your head, over and over. Denial. You were in denial, at this conjecture, you were aware of even this.

"I stopped loving you long ago, Y/N. You were dumb enough to stay." Has he always been this truculent towards you? You wonder but you can't recall anything else but the echoing of his words. Words he used like a champion of the battlefield, liberating away the life of his enemies.

No. Don't say that. You don't mean it. No.

Suna thought you would be the arrow to his heel—the one to bring him to his knees in the most torturous of ways. In reality, maybe you were more his heel than the arrow. He was both Achilles and his actions, the arrow that brought him to his own demise.

Sixth—the sixth was sickening grief. You're so unfair. You're so selfish. How could you run away from him, only to scream his name and the tormenting shout of "I love you" that haunted him awake or in his slumber. How could you be so cruel? To let him fall to his knees in front you the way you made him to. Ruthless—you're so ruthless. The pain was the excruciating kind, crashing towards him like ocean waves bringing him farther from the shore and near to wherever you were now. How could you leave him like you did?

After all, what was he if there wasn't you?

📞 violet is calling... all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 7:

Warnings: Panic attacks, anxiety, lots of angst. Emily Prentiss’ cameo! Will reader ever catch a break? Doutbful.

Word Count: 3,842 (It’s a long but a good’un)

———

Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.” - James Baldwin

———

You’ve been operating on autopilot since that day. For around a week and a half now, you work from home, run your errands, come home and find yourself staring into nothing, sitting in your apartment alone. You’ve been dodging calls from Hotch, your dad, Emily and now your ex, too, since he’d been back in town. 

You’d stormed out of the building that day on wobbly legs, willing yourself not to buckle or fall on the floor, your breath shaky and shallow. You’d somehow managed to keep your composure in the cab home, staring out of the window, your brain feeling like static, incomprehensible, confusing and far too busy. 

You were surprised though, at your outward composure, surprised that you hadn’t even felt the need to cry, not even so much as a lump in your throat anymore. The adrenaline had seemed to be wearing off on the journey home, you’d even give a weary smile to the cab driver as you got out of the car. But you’d been so preoccupied with your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed the same black sedan from earlier that day, tailing your cab again. 

Once you’d finally keyed your door closed, though - you’d sunk to the cold tile of your apartment floor and let the shame and embarrassment of your naivety wash over you, cursing yourself repeatedly, sick with rage. Not rage towards Hotch, or McCall. Rage towards yourself. Furious that you’d even let yourself entertain any sort of delusion about Hotch, that you’d even allowed a flutter of hope to bloom in your chest. 

Mortified that he’d been actively avoiding you while you’d been waiting for the phone to ring, like some desperate, naive little girl. 

You’d cried then, which had only infuriated you more. What did you have to cry about? He didn’t owe you anything. He had a job, and he was doing it well, considering he’d been the one to draw up the profile. He had a whole life, a past with Haley, and most likely, a future with her, too. 

You’d heard a knock on the door behind you that had startled you in the midst of the tears streaming down your cheeks. You’d heard Hotch’s voice call your name from behind the door and you’d had to fight to not gasp or cry even more as he’d called out to you.

“Please. Just let me in. Please just let me explain myself.” He’d pleaded. He didn’t quite understand what he would say even if you did open the door, but the desperation he felt to see you, to just say something that wasn’t met with anger by you, far outweighed any rational thought he could muster right now. 

You’d clasped both hands over your mouth and brought your knees to your chest to stop any sound from escaping, willing yourself to hold your ground just this once. To pull back some respect for yourself, to try and grasp at anything that would let you feel like you were on even footing again.  

“Please? I can hear you in there, you can yell at me, hit me, scream at me, just please let me say what I need to say to you!” You’d just held your breath and focused on the rise and fall of your chest to keep yourself grounded, your eyes closed.

No.

You’d heard some shuffling and muffled voices through the door, Agent McCall’s voice familiar to you at this point. You’d listened hard as you’d heard him tell Hotch to leave. 

“Ben-”

“Now.” His voice was stern. “Go talk to Barnes. I’ll handle things here.” 

He’d hesitated for a moment against the door before he’d finally left, his body weighed down with the immense guilt, his stomach like concrete. 

This wasn’t going to go away.

Once you were sure he’d left, you’d gathered yourself up off the floor and splashed some water on your face, willing the puffiness in your cheeks and eyes to subside. In your vulnerability, you’d felt intensely alone and mistakenly picked up the phone, needing a friend to confide in.

“Hello?”

“Jordan?” 

“Yeah? Who’s this?” 

“It’s me.” You could hear the gears turning in his head. You’d said your name through the phone and he chuckled. 

“Hey. I wasn’t expecting your call. How’ve you been?”

“Can you come over?” You’d said abruptly. 

He paused. There was no answer for a while and you’d had to look at the phone, to double-check it hadn’t been disconnected. 

“Hello?” 

“I- yeah. I’m on my way. See you soon, babe.” You’d shuddered slightly at his pet name for you, you never had liked it when you were together and it had felt even stranger now. But you needed someone to help you through this, and he was nothing if not familiar, even if you hadn’t worked out the first time. 

Unbeknownst to you, though. Hotch had stayed parked across the road and had seen Jordan enter your apartment building around thirty minutes later. He’d frowned and leaned across the console to watch the figure walk into the lobby right as he’d seen your apartment lights turn on. He’d turned his attention to your apartment window then, as you’d drawn your curtains, the sight of you making his breath catch. He’d gripped the steering wheel tight as he’d maneuvered himself to desperately get a better view of you, only to see Jordan behind you as you’d pulled the fabric closed, his heart dropping and a lump forming in his throat. 

He’d never even had you, but he’d lost you. 

———

You give yourself a once over in the mirror again , dusting off some lint that isn’t really there off of your dress, turning to make sure that it fits right. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you step out of your bedroom.

“Ready, ma’am?” Agent McCall asks. 

You simply nod and grab your purse as Agent McCall leads the way out of the door, confirming the address of the bistro over his earpiece. You have a strange knot in your stomach, the kind that develops when you have to see an old friend who you’ve lost touch with. The kind that develops when you have a psycho stalker and you’re estranged and furious at the one person who’d slowly become your comfort.

You’d decided that you had to try to make an attempt, a real effort to keep the small number of friends you did have, finally taking Emily’s calls and even proposing lunch. She’d responded excited, and had taken care of the reservations for you, said it’d be her treat. 

You glance up towards agent McCall, a question bubbling up in your chest, but you lose your nerve at the last minute. He spots you from the corner of his eye but doesn’t attempt to respond or invite further questions, simply setting the SUV into drive and taking off. You bite the inside of your cheek, repeatedly looking at your watch, your index finger scratching divots into the side of your thumb. As you pull up to the restaurant, you spot two undercovers on either side of the block. MPD, you deduce. 

Agent McCall opens your door for you, confirming something on his earpiece as he escorts you out. “I’ll be waiting right here, Agent Hotchner will be here soon to relieve me, so he’ll be escorting you back, ma’am.” He rattles it off like a rehearsed speech, but there’s a hint of levity in his voice. 

Your head whips towards his direction. “Hotchner? No, he’s not on my detail anymore.” You quip back, the panic and excitement making for a strange cocktail. 

“As of this morning, he is.” He ducks his head. “I’m sorry, I know what happened and I completely respect that, but the Ambassador made the decision and Barnes agrees. I’m sorry ma’am.”  

Your chest flutters slightly at that, futile excitement, dread and anxiety spreading to your bones at the thought of seeing Hotch for the first time in so long. You huff and take his hand. 

“We’re not done with this.” You mutter to him.

You turn to find Emily’s dark eyes watching you from the outdoor seating area of the restaurant as you cross the road, squinting slightly as if to see if it’s really you. When you laugh, she immediately sets her napkin down on the table, and shouts your name, her arms outstretched almost immediately, her face breaking out into a grin.

Oh Emily.

You close the gap between you, taking quick little steps in an awkward kind of run, as you meet her hug, her body almost crushing you. Air leaves your chest in a whoosh as you both laugh, rocking slightly to catch your balance. She rubs your arms up and down when she finally releases you, leading the way to your table. “Oh! It’s so good to see you!” She breathes.

You immediately relax, the dread and nervousness washing away. No matter how long it goes between visits with Emily, you could probably always count on the fact that you’d pick up right where you left off. You felt almost silly now for even thinking it’d be any different. The stress of the past month melts away and you finally feel at ease for the first time in a long time. 

“It’s good to see you too!” You laugh, sitting back. You chance a quick glance over the SUV, but you give yourself away. Emily follows your eyes and spots Agent McCall parked on the other side of the road, watching you. 

“Hey. What’s with the goon squad?” She points her head to the left to point to McCall, glaringly obvious that he’s there to watch you. “I spotted two UC’s a block away too.” She questions. 

You sigh. It’s not really a question you can avoid, besides, she’s a close friend and confidante. And she’s so sharp, always aware of her surroundings - almost unsettlingly so. But if anybody could relate, it would be her. You briefly explain that somebody had been leaving you notes and gifts for a while which is why- 

“You didn’t go to college this year - that’s right.” She nods, finishing your sentence for you. She winces slightly with sympathy as the pieces fall into place for her. She shakes her head in disbelief. “I- how long?” She asks. Her eyebrows are pulled together, her brown eyes wide and vulnerable. 

“Since last summer. Dad had some old friends with the FBI so they're my security until we catch him, I guess.” You pick at a hangnail, the reality of the situation making your heart sink more every day. 

“I'm sorry.” She exhales. “First a breakup, then your father’s whole heart scare, and then this?”

You look up at her. “How did you know about Dad?”

“Ambassador Prentiss.” She laments, sarcastically.

“Ah.” 

“Mother had her aide get in touch when she didn’t hear back from your father.” Her voice softens as she reaches her hand across the table to stop you from ripping the skin straight off your finger. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I may not have been much help, but I’m always here to listen. You gotta reach out more.” 

A lump forms in your throat as you come to the crushing realisation that you didn’t really have many friends at all, no real friends of substance that you could really confide in, anyway . Sure, you had society friends, acquaintances, the children of other DC officials but your heart sinks. You have nobody except your father and Emily - and your father, well. He wouldn’t be around forever. 

You squeeze her hand back and thank her, retreating back to your lap and scratching your thumb again, toying with the skin. Her eyebrows quirk as she watches you, aware of your nervous tics.

“What is it?”

You snap your head up. “Hm? What? Oh- nothing.”

“Don’t even. I know when you’re lying. What is it?” Her eyebrows raise, the way they do when she challenges someone. She did always have the uncanny ability to see right through people. 

You sigh. “Fine. It’s about the breakup.” She slumps back in her seat and rolls her eyes, her head shaking. 

“You did not. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Don’t kill me. But, around two weeks ago, I kinda slept with Jordan.” You wince.

She inhales sharply through her teeth, shaking her head. “Come on. I thought you knew better! Why would you do that? He’s nothing but trouble.” 

“I. I don’t know, it’s a long story. I haven’t seen him since, though.” You try to justify to her with a laugh, throwing your hands up in defence. “He keeps trying to call, but I just let it go to voicemail. If anything, I remembered why we didn’t work the first time around.” 

“Uh huh.” She raises her eyebrows and huffs out a laugh. “Good. He gives the creeps.” She mutters. 

You let out a laugh then, a real laugh and you can’t remember the last time you felt this light. You think for a split second about how you did feel this light and happy around Hotch despite the impending danger, but you erase the thought from your mind quickly, refusing to allow yourself to go down that road again. 

The mere split second thought makes your chest drop, though - another wave of sadness washing over you just as quickly, and it’s only exacerbated by the fact that you’re going to have to face him soon. Your emotions seemingly do a rapid 180.

You feel grateful to be here with Emily, with someone to talk to, but the hole that you’d tried to fill with Jordan a week ago had only left you feeling more empty and dissatisfied with your life. You’d asked him to go home later that night, unable to look at him, or yourself. All you could think about was how Hotch was probably happy, living in domesticity with his first love and you were spending the night alone - again, while someone out there probably wanted you dead.

You flash Emily a quick smile and excuse yourself to the ladies’ room as she carefully watches you enter the restaurant. Once inside you try your best to hold in the tears, the harsh lighting oddly illuminating the top of your face, washing you out. You grip the edges of the cool sink, trying to even your breathing but the tears come as though they have a life of their own, falling down your cheek. 

Your eyes sting and your chest burns as you finally let yourself cry again, you feel it long overdue, the loneliness, the isolation, the danger. All of it rearing its ugly head. You try to stifle the sobs from your chest, desperate whimpers escaping from your throat as it gets harder and harder to breathe. 

A door handle turning suddenly startles you, making you jump. You clear your throat, your voice coming nasally. “Occupied.” 

Loud knocks come this time, making rapid contact with the wood on the other side. “I said it’s occupied!” You call out, louder this time. 

It’s silent for a moment before loud thumps and grunts come from the other side, as your heart drops, your knees weak. Your wide eyes dart around the bathroom when the door starts to heave, the hinges rattling as the person on the other side attempts to break it down. 

You back away with shaky legs, trying to get as far away from the door as possible. You don’t even realise when you start screaming for help, the noise in the bathroom rising, suffocating you. A high pitched whine penetrates your skull, your hands and face sweaty, heart thrumming as you shake. Your vision tunnels and you feel nausea rising in your stomach. 

The thumping suddenly subsides, a breathy laugh coming from the other side, as you fall to the floor, the cold hard tile against the back of your thighs. You find it hard to breathe, your vision is clouded by black spots, and you realise you’re still calling out for help, your voice screeching. 

“Ma’am?” A young woman’s voice comes from the other side. “Ma’am are you in there?” She asks, panic rising in her voice. 

You hear Hotch’s voice on the other side, speaking to the woman, followed by the sound of keys. Relief washes over you temporarily but you can’t bring yourself to get up or even move slightly, your body frozen. The young woman manages to open the door after shakily fumbling with the keys, Hotch brushing past her. 

The sight of you on the bathroom floor, sweaty, cried out and so vulnerable does something to him he can’t quite explain. You’re curled into a ball in the corner of the bathroom under the sink, your knees against your chest, your hands clutching your head as you rock slightly. He’s furious and devastated in equal measure, doesn’t quite know how to proceed. Protocol dictates he ask you what happened, take you to a secure location, obtain evidence. 

Screw protocol. 

He gets down on your level, shrugs off his suit blazer and wraps it around you, not bothering to move you off the wall, the blazer covering you like a blanket. He whispers off the young employee to block off the bathroom area, his hand reaching up to push some matted hair off your face. 

He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, the question entirely redundant if your current state is anything to go by. Figures it’s futile, patronising, even. 

“Hey, it’s me. Can you hear me?” He whispers. Your eyes are still closed and you’re hyperventilating, droplets of sweat on your forehead as you rock back and forth. He hesitantly brings his other hand to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek. “Hey.” 

You hold onto his forearm. “Aaron?” 

“Come here.”

You close the small amount of distance between you and lean forward to throw yourself into his arms, hanging onto his shoulder as sobs wrack your body. His arms awkwardly wrap around you, his blazer and your legs in the way, but he holds you close nonetheless, his hand running up and down your back as he shushes you. He remembers reading once, that even pressure around the ribs can help with nervous system dysregulation so he squeezes tight, whispering encouragement into your ear.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you. Breathe with me.” He doesn’t let go as he breathes exaggeratedly, wanting you to take his lead. His presence allows you to find a tandem with the rise and fall of his chest while he rubs smooth lines up and down your back. “That’s good, you’re doing really good, sweetheart.” 

He has a lump forming in his throat and rage bubbling in his chest. He thanks God that he’d arrived here just in time and made the decision to run into the restaurant to speak to you when he did. He’d heard the sound of you screaming from the back of the restaurant right as he was about to ask the waitress if she’d seen you, and saw red as he’d sprinted through the booths and tables to get to you. 

He was going to kill this son of a bitch. 

You fall limp in his arms as your breathing regulates, your chest and the back of your throat aching like you just ran a marathon - your head feels like a brick. You let your eyes flutter closed and bury your face into the crook of Hotch’s neck, inhaling his scent. You remember back to the day you first met, almost four months ago now, the cold Virgina air, the rain, the way he’d given you his blazer - your body relaxes slightly. 

The noise of the hustle and bustle outside the bathroom area starts to become louder as you finally start feeling present again, feeling returning to your hands and feet.

You hear a familiar voice right outside. “You need to let me in, it’s my friend in there.” You blink your eyes open.

Ma’am. It’s a crime scene, I’m afraid you can’t go in there.” A stern voice replies. 

“What? A- a crime scene? Let me through.” She says defiantly.

Emily. 

You hear a commotion and footsteps approaching, a shadow getting bigger as you release yourself from Hotch’s arms, using the back of your hand to wipe your face. She appears in the doorway then, a horrified look on her face as she gasps, the waiter trailing behind her, an embarrassed look on his face. 

Hotch turns to look at her and back at you, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you, concern etched on his face as you communicate wordlessly. 

He raises his eyebrows.

You okay? 

You nod. 

Yeah. 

“Honey.” She gasps. Hotch moves over to the side, standing up and offers Emily a tight smile as he brushes off his pant legs and hands. She sinks to her knees on the floor, sitting next to you, her arm around your shoulder, inviting you close to her. Her other hand rubs your thigh gently, and you lay your head on her shoulder, your hands wrapping around the one she has in your thigh and you squeeze. Her other hand gently brushes over your hair, as she inhales and exhales with you, her comforting presence something that you’d been sorely missing. 

Hotch signals to excuse himself to Emily and she just nods, allowing him to leave. She doesn’t ask what happened, she doesn’t speak, she doesn’t move. Just offers herself to you as her heart breaks a little at the sight of you. 

It’s around ten minutes later that Hotch returns, voices overlap through police radios as he shoos a police officer away. He crouches down to your level, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey.” He rubs a hand on your shin. “We ready to go?”

You heave a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, get me the hell out of here.” You huff. You glance at Emily. “You're coming right?”

“Of course.” She whispers with a smile, her hand squeezing yours. “I’m gonna grab some stuff from my place first, okay? I can be at yours in an hour.”

You nod. Hotch holds out his hand to help you up, collecting his blazer and draping it around your shoulders, rubbing them as he does, to reassure you. He places a hand on the small of your back, nodding at the waiter as he shows the three of you out of the back exit, Emily walking behind you. Hotch’s car is parked right outside the service entrance in the back alleyway, and you smile up at him, thankful that you wouldn’t have to walk out to the front again. 

“I’ll see you soon, honey.” Emily hugs you as you wrap your arms around her waist, squeezing tight. She places a protective kiss on your temple and nods at Hotch as she walks around to get her car. You watch her turn the corner and take a deep breath.

“Hey. Let’s get you home.” 

———

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[bella-donna418]

Cottagecore Family Life

A/N: I really wanted to do this headcanon lol

I'll continue living in this life of delusion don't @ me

~~~

Best place for this will be Switzerland like cottagecore let's go! (also bcs of this LOL LIKE THE BIO IS LITERALLY JUST 😂😂😂)

The nature around them is just filled with pretty flowers and butterflies could be seen especially in mornings and birds love singing at their place

Eren and Mikasa just looking after their child, especially Mikasa.

Also they'd probably have 2-5 children and they'll be so pretty and cute 🥺🥺🥺

Their children's energy are basically Eren and Mikasa's staminas combined (ultimate energy here)

Eren would be chasing the ones running and oh boy.

An unattended child has found an axe—

Mikasa walks right on the spot and sees their child about to get a hold of it so she immediately runs to them (luckily the baby is asleep inside the room she came from)

She'll scold the child in a gentle but stern manner be like, "No touching your dad's tools, understand?"

The child would just nod while looking down.

Eren joins in the scene with their other little one and oop—

His eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he saw what's going on (especially that they're near the axe)

Mikasa looks at Eren—sighing and said, "You should keep your tools somewhere where they can't see or touch them."

He'd nod slowly, "Right. I forgot about the axe here..."

He then puts down their little one and it immediately runs and hugs Mikasa's waist.

During bedtime, they love watching their parents dance to a music box (given by Annie as a gift for Mikasa when she heard the news she was pregnant)

Sometimes they'd sing a lullaby in duet and their children would slowly fall asleep (JUST IMAGINE THEM SINGING REMEMBER ME FROM THAT COCO DISNEY MOVIE OK?)

But sometimes Mikasa's on her own making the children fall asleep (when she forced Eren to take a rest lol)

Like imagine her singing the chorus part of "safe and sound" by Taylor Swift 🥺🥺🥺

Everytime they get nightmares they'd run to their parents' room and Mikasa will be the one to get up and open the door.

She'd be like, "Why up so late in the night—wait, why are you crying?"

Then the child explains and Mikasa just picks the smol child up and goes to the couch in the room with books at the table beside it.

She'd then read her a funny story and then the kid/s would just laugh.

Eren's a "deep" sleeper sooo....

Mikasa then sings the lullaby she'd sing when she's on her own to make the children sleep.

The child falls asleep and Mikasa acknowledges this and carries them back to the kids' room and settles them in their bed.

Mikasa would finally go back to bed—thinking Eren's still asleep.

But then Eren's like, "You're voice sounds like an angel's."

She'd find herself smacking a pillow at him and he just chuckles.

Mikasa would now lay down and Eren turns around from his position and cuddles her.

~~~

Their children are always curious.

They'd go outside and play, pick some flowers and make flower crowns, or read some books (most were sent by Armin), run around to catch butterflies, and more.

As they grew up, the girls would always be with Mikasa if they want, and the boys would stick with Eren (it actually depends on whether they're a daddy's or mommy's girl/boy)

Overall, their children would learn how to cook, do embroidery, chop wood, doing custom house decorations, and more.

During birthdays, they'd be visited by their uncles and aunts along with their little ones—if they have (you know who they are 😂😂😂)

The children would receive so many gifts—heck, they'd all be spoiled by them especially by Zeke (best uncle award)

They'd also play with the others' children (like they'd always play tag outside while the parents are indoors having a chat 🥺👉👈)

Their teenage years were quite more chaotic than their childhood (curse of puberty)

At random times, they'd argue to each other and Mikasa will just look at Eren and be like, "You're turn to break it up."

Eren would just sigh and try to break the bicker up and Mikasa would just stand by the door and watch.

He'll approach them and be like, "What are you fighting about?"

The bickering two would look at him and start pointing at each other and start shouting then glaring at each other—debating again.

Poor Eren gotta deal with this and Mikasa couldn't help but snicker at her spot.

Personality-wise they got the temperamental attitude from Eren while the calm demeanor from Mikasa.

Eren would look at the door and see Mikasa standing and giving her an 'um, help?' look.

Mikasa deciding to be mean, smirks and leaves to go to the kitchen and cook.

Eren felt "betrayed" because of her actions (your guy gotta deal with 2 hot headed teens in a phase arguing for some reason)

But Eren managed to calm them down.

They're all calm and collected, the 2 are no longer screaming and Eren began asking questions.

Mikasa decides to take a peek inside to see what's going on now

Eren would be like, "Ok, what's the real matter why your fighting? Don't yell, I'm asking you calmly."

They'd then start talking about who's wrong and all, and giving a few more minutes, they finally got along.

Eren internally was like, 'Fucking finally.'

Mikasa, seeing this, can't help but smile so she finally decided to come inside then looked at their teens and was like, "Glad you got along."

Eren just looked at her—not even bothering to ask why later since she looks happy about it.

Ooooh of course, their reactions when Eren starts snaking his arms around Mikasa's waist and just resting his head on her shoulder in front of the kids.

When they were young, they were just giggling.

But now, oh god it's so funny (not really lol)

They're literally like "👁👄👁 uhm you're gonna flirt in front of us?"

The two would just look at each other and laugh knowing how much they've grown.

In times of comforting children when it comes to love issues.

Best love expert award goes to...

Lol sorry it's Zeke.

Sometimes Zeke visits and if he sees one of them looking sad or something, assuming it's about love and all, he'd go up to them and be like, "You know, there's a quote that says; there's many more fish in the sea."

The teen would look at him surprised he knew and be like, "Yeah..."

And then there goes all things about love to Zeke.

If uncle Zeke ain't around, Mikasa would be the one dealing the problem.

You wonder for Eren? Pfft- he'd always be like, "Uhh... Ask your mom I guess..." (Please don't laugh at Eren 😂😂😂)

But in terms of practical things, Eren's the best at it.

They also taught their children self-defense so when they need it, they can use it.

In terms of their girls entering a relationship with a guy...

Overprotective dad mode on for Eren and be like, "Who's the guy? I need to talk to him."

Mikasa would just smile and instead, congratulate them and give advices.

Since Eren told their girl to bring her "boyfriend" he'd have an intimidating aura and the guy is just scared shitless (poor dude)

But in the end, Eren would just sigh and be like, "Just... don't hurt her, ok?"

To be honest, Mikasa is the one more relieved than their girl 😂😂😂

But living a peaceful life, they watched their kids grow into who they are and damn they're the prettiest beings ever (their genes are just ✨✨✨)

And when they get old, their children would always make time to visit them and at least take care of them.

Especially when it's their birthdays, they'd ALL come back at the home where they were raised with love and care 😭😭😭

It's the fact their children just cares for them even if they had their own lives/families.

To make me even cry more, Eren and Mikasa would be playing with their grandkids while their grown up child is just making some meal for all of them. (Old and gray EM with their grandkids, anyone?)

~~~

A/N: FINALLY!!!

Ok ngl this looks like the most decent headcanon I've ever made 😭😭😭

And fun fact: I cried while making this

AND I STILL AM 😭😭😭

[rinstars]

the call

pairing: suna x reader

genre: a little smut, angst, cheating, unrequited love

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: nsfw, weed/blunt, unhealthy relationships, no proofreading whatsoever im so tired lol sorry

note: i literally just reached 100 followers yesterday but thank u sooo much for another hundred! u guys have no idea how happy it makes me. here's a little gift in return :D in my head he's 99% this type of guy and i wanted to know how far i can take my imaginations with the image i have of him and this is where it took me heh.

The smell of leather and weed floating in the space surrounding you constricts your breathing, making you gasp for air – even more as he suctions the air out of you through your heated shared kiss, your lungs burning with the need for oxygen. But you ignore it. Running your fingers through his hair and meeting his hunger with kisses equally as rough, you ignore the building pain on your chest.

You rock your hips towards him, feeling his hard crotch rub you through the lace of the panties you bought just a few days ago. Pulling away for a moment only to gasp on his reddening plump lips while he lazily guides your movements on his lap, triggering a flood of pleasure to wash over you.

Slender, pale, and long fingers reached over to snatch another blunt, taking a long drag before the very same fingers of the opposite hand take the back of your neck so he can pull you closer to his lips. He breathes the smoke out of his mouth into yours, connecting your lips once again.

Despite the distinct scent of the drug, you taste a tinge of sweetness on your tongue as his own massages yours. Rocking your hips harder to his forces a moan out of you, making your fingers curl around his jet black hair. You pull away, muttering a small give me a minute to him. Leaning back on the steering wheel, you watch him while you try to control your ragged breathing.

His hair is long. Long enough that it falls softly all the way to his eyes and cheeks, the ends brushing his really pale skin. With your earlier statement, he just shrugged with the same unchanging look of nonchalance in his eyes while proceeding to take drags out of his blunt. His beautifully shaped eyes now bloodshot and shiny with moisture.

He's almost like a vampire, now that you think about it. So beautiful. Such pale skin but such dark hair. Sharp gaze but soft lips. Intoxicating scent but still so sweet.

The most similar thing between him and vampires, you thought, is the way he sucks all the life out of you. Drying you out and taking all your light.

This man has corrupted you more than you're willing to admit.

You opened your mouth to say something when the blaring ring of his phone makes you jump. His eyes glanced over the source before grabbing it with a sigh and scanning the monitor. You didn't even need to ask who it is. You're very well aware who it is, and why he never hesitates to answer.

When it comes to you, it always takes a lot of rings and missed calls before he picks up, though. You understand. You tell him you do, you always will.

His childhood bestfriend, Astumu whispered as if he heard you ask the identity of the mysterious caller in your head one night when you were drinking with him in a bar. Loves her a lot. Probably too much.

The alarms rang in your head that night, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. So annoying but at the same time so painful. You didn't know how to turn it off and you wish every single time you could.

"Darling. " He whispered with such a loving voice, one you never heard from him when he answers your calls. Your heart ached but you knew better than to confront him about it. Instead you cry in the arms of the twins, more on Atsumu's, since Osamu takes you through an hour long lecture of why you should have known better.

You know that much.

You shouldn't have let yourself get dragged in this stupid situation, craving a taken man and his touches. Letting him in on your secrets even when he barely lets you get a peak in his.

"I miss you too, my darling.. Oh?.. I'll be home soon." He speaks in pauses as he lets her finish speaking first. You close your eyes to prevent the liquid threatening to spill out, taking a deep breath before slowly lifting yourself from his lap to the passenger seat. His eyes widened a millimeter when he noticed you getting off him without having to tell you. You noticed he ended his call with her and you refuse to look back at him cause if you do, you are sure of another sleepless night.

Cold fingers hook under your chin, slowly turning your head to the left. He leans over the center console, connecting his lips with the soft skin of your neck, making you exhale out at the feeling of him sucking all the reason in you again. He runs his tongue wet on your collarbones, creating a glistening trail.

"I'll see you soon?" He whispered on the crook of your neck, nibbling it a little with his teeth. The bruises he leaves on your skin another reminder that everything is real.

You just hum with a nod, cupping his jaw and slowly pulling him away from you with a small smile. One of his bangs fell on the middle of his face, you reached up to brush it away.

So many unspoken words from you. Too many. You wonder if he has anything he's holding back to say too as his eyes linger on you a second longer than usual. Or maybe you're just desperately reading into the lines again, like what Osamu said way too many times.

"Rin, what.. what are we?" Every parting is like this, like a new way of saying goodbye that you both developed. You just needed to be reminded, to wake up from whatever delusions you're starting to have.

"Nothing." He replies as flatly as all the other times before. Not a hint of emotion – no amusement or remorse.

You swallow, letting your hands fall to your sides. On the verge of turning around and reaching the door, his voice echoes once again. "How many times are you gonna ask me this?"

Until you start feeling something. You thought to yourself.

Anger, disgust, love, hatred, adoration, anything. You just want him to feel something. Prove to yourself and everyone else that you're not just a tool to him.

"Sorry. Slipped out of habit." You settle for that response now. No point having a conversation with him about this.

"You don't have to leave right away, I can still drive you home."

Losing all the strength to refuse, you found yourself just agreeing with him. Why the fuck are you even so upset to begin with? You knew what you signed up for. You knew about the girl. You saw him with her in the very same bar a few nights ago before your first night together. Watched how much attention he gives her, how tightly he holds her.

"I'll break your heart by the end of this, baby." He warns you as you feel his length slip inside you, making you moan out in ecstasy.

"I don't care." You pant, grabbing him by the hips as a way of telling him to go faster.

Looking back, you shouldn't have been so foolish and say that. Now, you're paying the price. Now, your exit has been sealed.

The moment you met him, you forgot everything – your reason, pride, dignity, loyalty, sense, self-love. You hate how intoxicates you like the drugs on his backseat and yet you can't stop. You wonder if he knows how you feel about him. If he notices the way your eyes would light up when you see him or the way you would wrap your arms so tightly like you're afraid of letting him go.

The car stopped soon after and you looked out the window to find yourself in front of your house. You collected your things and fastened the clasp on your sandals then opened the door, stepping a foot outside when he once again stops you by the wrist.

"I'll call you soon. I promise."

"I'll be waiting." You wriggle out of his grip without looking back, stepping your remaining foot out to join with the other as you stand up to leave. "Take care, Rintarou."

"You too, baby." The sound of his tires grow fainter by the second as he speeds off to his and his girlfriend's shared apartment. You didn't notice the sobs wrecking your body. Not until you feel warm droplets fall to your open palms in front of you. You clutched your phone tightly, holding it to your chest.

You can only hope the next call comes soon.

note: a little smut + angst for everyone. whether or not this will be turned into a mini series completely depends on the feedback! let me know what u guys think <3

ghoultobio / risaki © 2020 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost.