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starmapz · 4 months ago

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what you know - ch5: hero || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. mutual pining. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic (attacks). mentions of difficulty eating. vomit. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.2k.

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[email protected] - Tuesday, 10:44 PM Have lunch with us tomorrow!

[email protected] - Tuesday, 10:59 PM am i allowed to say no

[email protected] - Tuesday, 11:03 PM Nope! :)

[email protected] - Tuesday, 11:05 PM lucky me

If there’s one thing you can say about your friendship with Sukuna, it’s that he’s a lot funnier than all the rumors surrounding him give him credit for.

That, and that you’ve gotten a lot better at checking your email.

Pulling into the parking lot nearest to the campus library, you put the car in park and turn to the passenger’s seat to grab your bag. When you turn back, a startlingly tall figure is trudging through the snow towards you, salmon hair poking out from his hood standing as a dead giveaway as to who it is.

Rolling down your window, you call out to him. “Sukuna?”

He jogs towards you at the sound of your voice, resting his forearms on the edge of your car where the window is lowered. A paper cup adorned in a local coffee shop logo in each of his hands grabs your attention as he dips his head into your car and, more importantly, right into your personal space. Your heart races at the close proximity, keeping your attention on the cups in his hands in an effort to keep your thoughts in order.

“Shit, it’s cold,” he grumbles. “I swear it was just fall.”

Don’t say it, don't say it, don't say it- “You could always light yourself on fire again.”

Sukuna’s face deadpans. “Play your games, brat. I’m more than happy to have your drink,” he sneers, ducking his head back out of his window and into the cold as he attempts to turn away.

“Wait wait wait!” You giggle, reaching out to tug him back into the window as you pull on his coat sleeve. He scowls at you, letting you pull him back into the heat of your car despite his grumpy demeanor.

“D’you want your drink or not?” He grumbles, holding one of the cups out a bit further.

Curiously, you take it from him, smiling as it warms your hands. Bringing the cup up to your lips, you cautiously take a sip, your tongue swiping your lips when you pull it back to look at it with a crease between your brow.

“How’d you know my exact order?” You ask, wracking your brain for if you had told him at some point.

“I’m just that good,” he smirks, taking a sip of his own drink that smells like the most caffeinated black coffee you’ve ever bore witness to.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and Sukuna clearly isn’t about to let you in on his secret. With a soft sigh, you resign yourself to not knowing.

“Thanks, Kuna.”

He grunts in reply, taking another sip of his overpoweringly aromatic coffee.

“Are you gonna come study?” You query as you set your drink down in a cup holder to zip up your coat and pull your backpack up over your shoulder. Sukuna backs away from the door as you get out of your car and grab your drink.

“Nah, gotta turn in a paper.”

“See you at lunch, then?” You tilt your head to get a better view of Sukuna towering over you.

He grimaces, a muscle in his jaw tensing. “Suppose so.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” you tease.

“Can’t say I’m lookin’ forward to getting torn apart by your friends.” He takes a sip of his coffee, tucking his other hand into his pocket to fiddle with his lighter, though he’s careful not to start a fire this time.

“I’ll talk to them. It won’t be that bad,” you promise, giving him your best reassuring smile.

Sukuna pauses to examine your expression, his gaze flickering between your eyes and down to your smile. He knows you well enough to spot the crack in your facade, the barely-there flash of doubt in your eyes that tells him that your friends won’t forgive him so easily, but he owes you regardless, so he doesn’t have much of a choice at the end of the day but to trust you.

And trust you, he does. He’s not sure what it is about your calming presence and sunny demeanor, but you seem to pull the best from him and even in the turmoil that his life has become, he finds himself seeking that familiar warmth.

It’s for that reason that he’ll bear whatever it is that your friends deem a necessary punishment for him, even if it irks him.

He hums in reply, glancing down at his watch as he sets the thought aside. “Gotta go. Later,” he says abruptly as he turns to leave in usual Sukuna fashion.

“See you later, thanks for the drink!”

He casts a glance over his shoulder at you with a smirk before throwing his hood up over his head and trudging off into the snow. You follow suit, pulling your hood up with a shiver as the wind whips around you, reminding you just what season it is. Tucking your hands into your pockets, you jog towards the library and barge through the doors with as much poise as you can muster given the cold you’ve just run from.

Shoko’s head lifts from her book as you approach the table where she and Kento are hunched over their textbooks while Haibara is typing away on his laptop. With a huff, you take a seat across from Shoko and beside Kento.

“I can’t believe it got this cold and snowy so quickly,” you whisper, shivering as you toss your coat over the back of the chair.

“Welcome to winter,” Shoko sighs, fiddling with a coffee cup that matches your own.

“Oh!” Haibara looks up from his laptop with a pleased expression. “Good, you did get your drink!”

With a tilt of your head, you hold the paper cup out in front of you, glancing around the table as you realize all three of them have matching cups to yours.

“Yeah, um, Sukuna brought it for me,” you smile, bringing the cup towards your chest as if the thought makes you starstruck. Maybe it does, just a bit.

“I ran into him at the cafe. He actually came up and said hi, would you believe that? I mean, he just wanted your order, but I thought it was pretty nice for him.” Haibara beams, leaning back in his chair with a bright smile that you share. Kento and Shoko exchange a less enthusiastic glance, privy to information Haibara doesn’t have on your former project partner.

“That explains how he got my order right,” you giggle to yourself, pleased when Haibara laughs along with you. Maybe it’ll be good to have him at your side for lunch today to break the tension between Sukuna and your friends. “Oh yeah, he’s gonna join us for lunch.”

With Haibara sitting at the table, Kento and Shoko keep their mouths shut, but their displeasure doesn’t need to be voiced based on the frowns you receive.

“Can we talk, actually?” Shoko speaks up, pushing herself up from the table.

Your heart drops, but you nod, gingerly following as she leads you into the hall outside the library. It’s dead quiet, even more so than the library itself which was filled with the sounds of paper turning and pens scratching. Now, the silence seems to close in on you as your closest friend turns to you with an exasperated sigh.

“Listen girl, you know I love you.”

“That’s just about the worst start to this I could have hoped for,” you joke with a nervous laugh in hopes of lightening the mood.

Shoko smiles. “I promise it’s not that bad. I’m just worried and I won’t sit by with Kento and watch while Sukuna breaks your heart. Once is a mistake, but twice?”

The guilty look on your face causes her to sigh again, but before you can give her a better explanation, she continues.

“You’re too forgiving for your own good sometimes and I know you didn’t want to mention the kids to Kento, but can you at least tell me what his excuse was? I just want to make sure he isn’t taking advantage of you.”

You chew on your lip, knowing your explanation won’t help Sukuna’s case. “Well, he hasn’t exactly told me, but-”

“He hasn’t told you?” She parrots with a raised brow, rubbing her temple.

“Wait, wait, just listen!” You plead, grabbing her shoulders. “He told me there was an emergency with the kids and he doesn’t want me involved in it. I told him this is his last chance and he’s trying, Sho.”

She grimaces, the gears turning in her mind as she weighs her opinions on him based only on what you’ve told her. “You better have meant it when you told him this is his last chance,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “I know he’s got a lot on his plate but that doesn’t give him any excuse to treat you like you’re disposable.”

“I won’t let him,” you promise. “And he won’t,” you assure her. He hasn’t gained the entirety of your trust back, but you can see that he’s putting in a notable effort to earn it and you want so badly to believe that the Sukuna you’re getting to know will stick around.

In all honesty, you think the begrudgingly kind and thoughtful version of him you’re getting to know is the real Sukuna, beneath the layers of grumpiness and stress and anger that go hand-in-hand with that warmth that he seldom shows around others. Hardened by a life that’s been nothing but tough on him, you’re privy to another side of him. One that has a good time teasing and making jokes, who enjoys music, movies, and video games and has a love for art. Sure, he’s still got an attitude and a penchant for being easily annoyed (and annoying), but behind all those walls is a person that anyone would be happy to spend time with.

He just needs a little bit of help and some rest to show that side of himself, help that he has a hard time accepting over his pride.

With a deep sigh, Shoko resigns to your beseeching. “You really like him, huh?”

Your cheeks warm, unable to hide the smile that finds its way to your lips, although you don’t respond. She has her answer in the form of your giddy smile as you shuffle from one foot to the other.

“I’ve never seen you like this before. The heart wants what it wants, I guess.”

“So you’ll give him a chance at lunch today?” You plead, squeezing her shoulders lightly.

She takes a moment to consider your words before dramatically rolling her eyes as she pulls you in for a hug. “One wrong move and I’m whooping his ass.”

“I won’t stop you, promise.”

She pulls back and begins heading back to the library. “He’s been helping you with History, right? Can we go over that? I’m so behind,” she whispers as she crosses into the library. The sound of pages turning and pencils scribbling is a relief in comparison to the silence of the empty reading week halls.

“Sounds good!”

–

With a shiver, you brush the snow from your jacket as you make your way into the lunch hall, unzipping it as you’re met with warm air. There’s a few more students around than there has been the last few days, likely the result of the power going out in some of the dorms from the whispers you’d been hearing.

Making your way to your usual table, you pull out some leftovers from a couple of nights ago and make your way to the microwave.

When you return to your seat, the table has gained an air of awkwardness that you suppose you were expecting, and Sukuna is seated to the right of your chair. Haibara seems to be doing what he can to mediate the table and Shoko’s half-hearted replies are better than nothing, at the very least. Kento seems less than pleased, but he’s entertaining Haibara if nothing else.

“Hey!” You beam at Sukuna. His gaze flickers up to you and he nods in reply. The rest of the table seems to relax at your arrival, but the tension remains palpable. Tough crowd.

Taking a seat beside Sukuna, you turn to him as Shoko and Haibara talk about something they watched the night before, entertaining Kento with the drama of it all. “How did turning in your paper go?” You ask the tattooed man who’s leaning against his knuckles, propped up by his elbow on the table.

He yawns before he replies. “Fine. Should get a good grade,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“I’m glad,” you smile, taking a bite of your lunch. “Did you bring anything to eat?”

“Yeah, leftovers from last night.” With a grunt, he leans down to his bag as though it took a nominal amount of effort, pulling a container from his bag. Setting the container down, he sighs heavily.

With a sympathetic smile, you lower your voice. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face as he glances around the table to make sure no one’s listening. “Cho’s been having nightmares and it’s catchin’ up with me.”

“Aww,” you pout. “Poor kid.”

“He’ll be alright,” Sukuna assures you, or at least you think he’s assuring you. “They both will.”

You purse your lips, examining the distance in his sunken eyes. You may be sitting beside him, but there’s a strange feeling that you’re watching him from outside, as though there’s a barrier of glass between you. Before you can question him any further, he changes the subject.

“How’s studying for History goin’?” He casts a glance at Shoko, just long enough to catch her eye and invite her into the conversation. It’s small, but it is a noticeable effort from Sukuna to include her.

“We were just going through it, actually. I feel way better about that final already,” you smile, eyes bright as you exchange a glance with Shoko.

Her cautious gaze softens and she nods in agreement. “Yeah. Thanks for the help.”

“Mm.” Sukuna hums, turning towards you with a smirk. “So if I ask about the Berlin Blockade-”

“Oh no,” you groan.

“- you can tell me how many air corridors the Soviets granted for cargo and trades and where they were granted to?”

Sukuna’s pretty sure he sees your eyes glaze over in dread and confusion from just one question, as though your confidence has fizzled out. He chuckles, amused.

“One question at a time. D’ya remember how many air corridors there were?”

You sigh. “This isn’t what I was hoping for when I invited you for lunch,” you grumble as you pull your history textbook out. “Three. There were three.”

“Good. Where were they granted to?”

“Um…” you take a deep breath, wracking your brain for information. “Frankfurt.”

“Mhm.”

“Hamburg.”

“Good.”

You chew on your lip, peering over at him with a blank stare that tells him you haven’t the faintest clue.

“Open your textbook,” he instructs.

You flip to the chapter about the Cold War, searching for information about the Berlin Blockade. Your eyes scan the pages and eventually come across all three locations. “Bückeberg.”

“Good. Who was the foreign minister at the time?”

The look you shoot Sukuna is too cute. You look completely and utterly lost, immediately searching your textbook. “Vyacheslav Molotov,” you reply after a moment, pointing at a black and gray photo of a man.

“Yes,” Sukuna agrees, reaching for your hand. His fingers are rough and calloused when he wraps them around yours, moving your hand an inch to the left to a different photo. “But you pointed at Stalin.”

“O- oh.” You tear your gaze from his much larger hand wrapped around yours to the two photos, using every shred of willpower you can muster to commit the photos to memory. Whether it’s because you’re burnt out on studying, or because the size of Sukuna’s hand is sending your mind reeling to places you’re not willing to admit aloud, your heart is pounding and you can only pray Sukuna’s fingers aren’t low enough on your wrist to feel your pulse. “My bad,” you barely manage to whisper.

Sukuna pulls his hand back, laying it next to yours on the table. “You were close,” he shrugs, not thinking much of it.

With a sharp intake of breath to clear your head, you pull your notebook aside and write down the answers you missed. “I should know this by now,” you mutter more to yourself than anyone else. Barely audibly, you tack on, “we’ve studied so much.”

Sukuna arches a brow, thoughtfully looking down at you. “It’s not a big deal. You actually know the history itself well, you’re just bad with names, dates, and faces.”

With pursed lips, you give him your attention, considering his words for a moment.

“What’s the reason for the Berlin Blockade?” He quizzes.

“To weaken Germany,” you reply without a moment’s thought.

He smirks, nudging your shoulder and keeping in close proximity with you. “See, you’re fine. That’s why I’ve been quizzin’ you on the more important shit.”

“I guess you’re right. Won’t there be a lot of names on the test though?”

“Nah. It’s like a seventy-thirty split,” he shrugs.

“Thirty’s a lot,” you mumble, your face falling at the thought of getting a seventy, and that’s only if you get a perfect score across every other question.

“Seventy is a lot,” he corrects, a playful smirk slathered across his lips. “Or are you a princess about your grades?” He teases as his lips turn up into a grin.

You force a smile, entertaining his teasing. “I know you’re right, but-” you pause, looking up into those striking crimson irises. He’s so close to you and regards you with so much mirth that your breath unintentionally hitches in your throat. “- um,” you continue shakily, “I could lose my scholarship if my grades aren’t good enough.”

Sukuna’s eyes briefly widen. “You’re on a scholarship?”

“Yeah, I need higher than a seventy on this final.”

He lets out a long breath through his nose. “Alright then, princess. We’ll aim higher.”

Did your mouth just go dry from one word? God are you really in that deep?

“Thanks, Kuna.” You nudge him back, earning you another entirely too handsome grin.

“Mm.” His grin falters at the nickname, but he forces down his disdain for it.

You’re so caught up in your conversation with Sukuna, that you don’t see Haibara kick Kento and Shoko from under the table and direct their attention to your interactions with Sukuna. Even stoic Kento who was beyond pissed with Sukuna can’t deny that the sight could weaken even the hardest resolve against the man.

–

“I don’t WANNA!”

You lower your fist from Sukuna’s door the following night, pausing at the chaos from within his apartment. The anger and frustration just beyond the door is practically bursting out into the hall and you’re sure the moment it opens, it’ll metaphorically slap you in the face. Taking in a sharp breath, you raise your hand again.

“I won’t ask again,” comes Sukuna’s raised voice, straining to keep his anger down.

… And now you can hear sobbing.

You softly tap your knuckles against the door, half expecting to need to wait for someone to let you in but Sukuna swings the door open immediately. It slams shut behind you once you’ve cleared the entryway and the scene inside is equally as ugly as it sounds.

Choso is nowhere to be seen, Yuji is in tears and Sukuna is about to blow a gasket.

Oh boy.

“What’s- um-” You pause, debating whether you should even ask. “- Going on?” You question mousily.

“Go on brat, what’s going on?” Sukuna hisses, his chest rising and falling as fury courses through his veins.

Yuji’s too busy sobbing to reply, shaking his head adamantly as he wipes at his face, snot running down his chin.

“Fucking christ,” Sukuna mutters, exasperated. He runs a hand through his pink hair, turning on his heel away from the scene in an effort to keep calm. Whatever patience he’d had for this had run dry during their walk home from school and with the mess his life had become, he was already worn extremely thin.

As Yuji continues to bawl and Sukuna leans over the kitchen counter gathering himself, you decide to step in.

You make your way across the living room to Yuji, kneeling down in front of him. “Hey, sweetheart.” Your voice is gentle and you offer a sympathetic smile. “Everything’s alright, don’t cry,” you soothe as you reach out and gently rub the sides of his arms. “Do you want a hug?”

Yuji nods adamantly, hiccuping through the tears as he reaches out for you. You pull him in for a tight hug, rubbing his back reassuringly. Sure to keep your voice soft and gentle, you give him a moment before speaking up.

“What happened, Yu?”

“K-Kuna’s-” sniffle. “- he’s m-making me get a-” Yuji’s voice breaks as the tears set in again. “A-” hiccup. “- needleeeeee.” He sobs into your shoulder, burying his face into your neck. You let out a breath at the realization that it’s just an argument that’s been blown completely out of proportion. Life was so much easier when the hardest thing you had to endure was vaccinations.

“I’m sorry honey,” you coo, continuing to rub his back. You let him sob into your shoulder before pulling back to look at him. At the sight of your face, so gentle and calm, he starts to sniffle more and less tears flow down his cheeks. “There you go,” you smile, noticing now that there’s a very crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

Yuji wipes his face on his arm, his breath coming in short gasps as he slowly calms down.

“Can I see that?” You ask, holding your hand out.

“No,” he whines, holding it behind his back.

“Alright,” you smile again, deciding it’s best to reason with him.

You cast a glance back to Sukuna. His palms are splayed on the counter as he leans his weight over the surface, staring down at it. All of his muscles are tense as his back rises and falls steadily with each breath he uses to calm his own anger. They really are two sides of the same coin.

“Is your school doing vaccinations?”

Yuji nods.

“Is that your permission form?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you lying?”

He hesitates before nodding. You have to stifle a laugh at his completely shameless lie, your smile lopsided.

“Can we talk it through?” You ask, sitting cross-legged before Yuji.

He blinks a few times as he considers your question before plopping himself down on the floor in front of you. He glances down at the way you’re seated, following suit and setting his permission form juuust out of reach. Sneaky kid.

“Are you scared of needles?”

Yuji’s silent, thinking for a moment before he decidedly nods.

“Okay, that’s normal. Are you afraid it’ll hurt?” You query, tilting your head at him.

“It will,” he replies with an edge of certainty, sniffling.

“Maybe for a moment, but do you know what the needle’s for?”

“Um-” he wipes under his eyes, his face scrunching up in deep thought. “- no.”

“It’s so that you don’t get sick. Do you remember being sick the other week, sweetheart?”

“... yeah.” He continues to sniffle and wipe at his face, looking up at you between each movement as he waits for you to continue.

“Well, there’s sicknesses that are a lot worse than that, and your brother doesn’t want you to get them,” you explain, glancing back at the sound of Sukuna shuffling. He pushes himself up from the counter, listening as intently as Yuji is as he makes his way a short distance behind you. His disgruntled expression trains on the sight of you sitting alongside his little brother, but he’s silent. “Don’t you think it’s worth it to get poked for a moment and not get one of those sicknesses?”

Yuji’s gaze flickers between you and his older brother towering over both of you as he thinks about it. You give him all the time he needs, even as Sukuna’s foot begins tapping impatiently. He’s an adult, he can wait. “I guess,” Yuji finally agrees, averting his gaze.

“Do you think you can be brave for me and get a needle, then?” You ask, your gentle smile remaining in place the whole time.

It takes a moment, but Yuji nods.

“Can I have that paper, Yu?”

He gingerly reaches behind him and passes you the crumpled paper. Tilting your head up to Sukuna, you pass it up to him. He walks over to the table, signs it, and returns it to Yuji.

“You better give this to your teacher,” he growls as he hands it back to Yuji. The little boy frowns, staring down at the ground in shame as he sniffles. Tears threaten his eyes again and you sigh.

“Sukuna, please,” your tone is soft with him as well, pleading for understanding between the two.

A muscle in his jaw tightens as his frustrated gaze zeros in on you, but he second-guesses whatever snappy words are about to spill from his lips, choosing instead to keep his mouth shut. His lips press into a thin line, furiously glaring at you and Yuji.

“Can you promise your brother, sweetheart?”

He’s still quietly sniffling as he nods, unable to look either of you in the eye. You let out a soft sigh, rubbing at the crease between your brows. At least they’d come to some kind of peace, even if Sukuna is audibly huffing behind you while Yuji sniffles.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you offer a hand to Yuji, who takes it and lets you drag (yes, drag) him back up to his feet, quietly fiddling with the hem of his Sonic the Hedgehog shirt.

With a glance at Sukuna, clad in a plain white V-neck and sweatpants, you catch a glimpse of his tattoos and an idea pops into your mind. “You know, Yuji, your brother is super brave.”

The little boy’s head tilts in a silent question, just as Sukuna is looking at you with arms crossed over his chest. You take a step towards the older of the two brothers, avoiding his gaze to conceal your racing heart. Gingerly, you reach for his wrist and tug lightly on it. His lip twitches in a frown as he stays soundly in place, relenting finally when you tilt your head.

Fuck, it’s cute when you do that.

He lets you pull his wrist down towards Yuji, his expression unchanging as you point out his tattoos. “Your brother got thousands of needles for his tattoos, did you know that?” Your thumb rubs circles into Sukuna’s skin and he wonders if you know you’re doing it at all, his full attention trained on the action. Whether consciously or not, you seem to be trying to soothe him, and the fact that it’s working only further complicates the feelings bubbling in Sukuna’s chest.

Yuji peers up nervously with reddened eyes and puffy cheeks at his older brother. “Really?” He rasps quietly, his voice strained from crying.

“That’s right,” you grin. “Can you be brave like your brother?”

Yuji reaches out and presses a finger to Sukuna’s wrist, as if feeling for raised skin, only to find it’s smooth. “Like Kuna,” he nods in agreement, showing you the saddest smile you’ve ever seen through his tear-stained face.

“Like Kuna,” you agree, rustling the little boy’s salmon hair. He smiles more happily now, running off with his permission slip to slide it into his backpack.

Sukuna lets out a long breath as you drop his wrist. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Need to cry it out in my arms, too?” You tease with a grin.

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” Even as he rolls his eyes at you, you catch the short exhale of breath from his nose reminiscent of a laugh.

“The offer stands,” you shrug cheekily, heading over to the table to set your bag down. You pull your history textbook out, alongside your notebook and some cue cards you prepared after submitting your paper last night. You skimmed through your textbook to put together cue cards with names, dates, and locations and their relations to historic events after Sukuna had pointed out that you seem to have the rest of the subject down.

Setting everything across the table, you peer over your shoulder at Sukuna’s distant gaze. You’ve seen this expression on him before, a forlorn glaze over his eyes as though he’s not present, completely lost in thought.

“Are you okay?”

Sukuna blinks twice, coming back to the present. A knot forms between his brows, as though he’s offended you might suggest he isn’t. “‘M fine.”

He’s lying, but you have no right to the truth, so you accept it with a nod.

No longer distracted, he runs a hand through his spiked hair, pushing a few loose strands back off of his forehead. His attention returns fully to you, though with a glance down at your white blouse, he wrinkles his nose.

“What?” You ask, looking down only to find yourself mirroring his expression. “Oh.”

Your blouse is a downright mess of snot and tears and while the tears will dry… well the same can’t be said for the snot. You frown, heading to the sink to wet a washcloth.

“Don’t bother,” Sukuna grumbles, striding into a room down the hall that you assume is his. He re-emerges a moment later with the first shirt he could find that doesn’t have the sleeves cut off. You reach out for the material as he tosses it to you.

“Thanks,” you smile, a faint heat rising to your cheeks at the prospect of wearing his shirt. Ducking away quickly to the washroom, you pull your blouse over your head and replace it with the black T-shirt, looking down at the material flowing over your body and thighs. You can’t help but giggle at the sight while Sukuna’s scent invades your senses, a comforting smokey and woodsy smell that makes you dizzy.

Straightening the shirt over your body, you nod to yourself in the mirror before re-emerging into the main living space. You can make out Sukuna’s form leaning over the balcony railing with no jacket on, even in the freezing weather. He catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, taking a long final drag from his cigarette before he stubs it out in an ashtray and steps back inside.

“I think it’s a little big on me,” you giggle in reference to the shirt, cheeks remaining warm as you gingerly link your hands behind your back, rocking forward and back on your heel.

The tattooed man’s eyes trail the length of your body, the red of his irises disappearing as he does so. You cross your arms over yourself, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his sharp gaze.

He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, well. I’m six foot eleven, and you’re fuckin’ short.” He averts his gaze, willing his dick not to react right now. He’s already well aware of his attraction to you, and he’s sure that if he just found the time to get laid he could bury that feeling. What’s more important is that he considers you to be someone genuinely important in his life, regardless of the fact that he can’t give you a label. He’s not about to jeopardize whatever he has with you because of how hot you are and how much his dick is well aware of it.

He’s seen the looks you give him, too. Every hitch of your breath, every nervous glance away from him. He knows there’s a mutual attraction between you, but it’s one that no matter how much his sex drive seems to disagree, he knows he can’t pursue. There’s more to your connection than sex, and one night isn’t worth the effort he’s put into fixing things with you.

He can’t put a name to that connection, but he values it regardless.

“Type… O Negative?” You interrupt Sukuna’s thoughts, reading the bold green logo on the shirt as your eyes trace the heart monitor logo in matching green beneath the text. Most of the band shirts he wears have logos with the most bizarre font they’re nearly unreadable, so you can’t help but wonder if this is even a band at all. Meeting his gaze again, you tilt your head.

Sukuna’s cock twitches in his sweats. Shit, he should have worn jeans. He coughs into his elbow, leaning back against the table in an effort to hide his growing need. “They’re a band.”

“Oh, cool!” You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

Getting up suddenly, Sukuna mutters something about needing to get ready for work and saunters off, leaving you standing by the table alone. You shrug it off, attempting to roll up the sleeves of the shirt and tuck it into the waistband of your leggings as best as you can in the hopes of making yourself look less like you’re in pajamas. Once you’re satisfied with the best look you think you can pull off, you take a seat at the table and begin putting together your cue cards.

Throwing yourself into your studies, you begin going through your cue cards in silence until Sukuna returns a short while later. The locks over his forehead are damp and he’s in a clean set of navy coveralls when he sits at the table beside you.

“What leaders made an effort to end the Cold War?” He quizzes, leaning over the table without so much as a glance at your cue cards.

“Reagan!”

“And?”

“Um- Gorbachev…?”

“Atta girl,” Sukuna smirks, giving your shoulder a light shove as your eyes light up, cheeks noticeably warm.

“Thank god I’m getting somewhere with all this studying,” you chuckle to yourself, straightening your cue cards. “I’m so burnt out on schoolwork,” you sigh, dropping the cards to the table.

“Why not take a break then?” Sukuna asks through a yawn.

“I can’t,” you frown, offering no further explanation. His brow arches questioningly. “I still need your help.”

His eyes flicker between yours, before dropping to your cue cards. “No ya don’t. You know the material and you’ve got cue cards for the shit you don’t remember. You’re set.”

You follow his gaze to the colorful cards with your handwriting scrawled over them in black ink. “You think so?”

“‘Course. You’re smarter than I am.”

The burly man leans forward over the table on his palm, yawning as silence sets in while you glance over your study materials. It doesn’t take long before you realize he’s in a trance, staring blankly straight ahead with a familiar distant expression.

Frowning, you have to resist the urge to reach out and pull him towards you. Maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with his brothers, but something about the idea of pulling him into a comforting hug feels right.

As though your body is actively working against you, your hand instinctively reaches for him. Sukuna’s gaze reflexively locks onto your hand that rests on his bicep, rubbing his tensed arm. A muscle works in his jaw as his irises flit up to you, something unreadable gleaming in his intense stare.

At the realization that you did reach out after all, you hesitantly pull back, somewhat surprised he didn’t smack your hand away in irritation. “Sorry, I…” But you have no excuse, so you trail off, awaiting his reaction.

Sukuna makes a show out of rolling his eyes, using his free hand to pull your hand back down to his bicep before leaning forward over the table and resting his chin over his elbow. He yawns again, his muscles slowly relaxing beneath your hand. You smile softly as Sukuna accepts your comfort, accepts you, and simply enjoy the comfortable silence while you use your spare hand to go through your cue cards.

His eyes are heavy as he stares blankly out the window opposite the table, the lull of sleep threatening to pull him under. As much as Sukuna hates to admit it, there’s little more tempting as of late than simply sleeping through his problems, and his mind goes blank as he eventually gives in to the temptation.

Sukuna’s breathing steadies beneath your hand, and you count your blessings that you’ve watched the kids during this shift before and you know that he has twenty minutes before he needs to leave. It might be the first time you’ve seen Sukuna completely relaxed, his jaw slack and shoulders loose. Pink strands of hair fall over his forehead, his lips only slightly parted as he breathes softly.

You gently rub circles into his arm, smiling softly at just how comfortable he’s grown with you. It touches you to see him able to simply be around you in such a way. Although you’d be lying to say you don’t want more than what you have with him, you’re grateful you have anything at all given his icy disposition. You’ve come a long way from the one-word answers and constant frustration.

Even if it’s always under the guise of an equivalent exchange, you’re glad he allows you to help him. Ever since you’ve been watching his little brothers more, he doesn’t seem as tired all the time (not that this particular moment proves that point), and you’re seeing more and more glimpses of the side of him most don’t get to see.

Your heart does a flip as his muscles twitch in his sleep beneath your fingers. He’s always trusted you on a relatively surface-level given that he lets you watch his brothers, but falling asleep under your touch is a surprising level of intimacy and reliance.

It’s a shame that twenty minutes passes so fast as you squeeze his arm in an effort to wake him.

“Stop,” he grumbles, swatting your hand away. Well, the peace can’t last forever you suppose. You give him another shake, which he certainly doesn’t appreciate. “What’d I just fuckin’ say?”

“You have work soon, Sukuna,” you giggle, giving him another shove. He cracks an eye open, his brow pulled down in a grumpy frown. He lifts his head slowly, squinting groggily at you with the imprint of the fabric of his coveralls on his cheek. You have to suppress another giggle at the disheveled glower being thrown at you.

“Fuck me,” he grumbles, rolling his shoulders before he pushes himself up from the table. He pushes his hair from his forehead and saunters around the apartment as he gathers what he needs before throwing on his coat.

“Oh, hey, where’s Choso?” You query as Sukuna fiddles with his keys.

He shrugs. “In his room, probably. He doesn’t like when Yuji cries.”

That makes sense from what you know of the middle sibling.

“Oh. He has homework due, can you make sure he does it?” Sukuna asks as he opens the front door. You nod. “I owe you one.”

Never a thank you with Sukuna, always him owing you.

“See you later, Kuna!”

The door shuts behind him and you let out a sigh, going to check on the two young boys. You knock on the door that’s slightly ajar, poking your head into their room when Yuji tells you to come in. There’s a mess of colored threads, strings, and beads strewn over a desk that they’re both crowded around, while Choso’s homework is buried beneath the mess of craft supplies.

Yuji hops off the chair and opens the door wider for you. Grinning, you let him tug you over to their table. Standing behind them both, you peer at what looks like a pile of (attempted) bead lizards with feet that don’t quite make sense.

“How are you both doing?” You figure after the tension when you walked into the apartment, they could probably use the opportunity to do a mental check-in with you. It’s not like Sukuna would be up for it, so you may as well try with his brothers.

“I’m sorry,” Yuji says as he fiddles with thread, not looking up from the very important lopsided lizard in his tiny hands. His tongue pokes out from the side of his mouth as he focuses on his craft.

“I know Yu, Kuna just has a lot going on right now. It’s okay,” you rub his back gently before turning your attention to his brother, “Choso?”

The dark-haired brother chews on his lip as he slides beads onto a thread. “I’m okay. I don’t like when they fight.” Deep in thought, his movements pause before he pulls two threads tight to keep the beads from falling off and sets a purple lizard head on the desk. “Um- I found this.”

He shoves some stray threads aside and hands you a familiar corner of paper addressed to his older brother adorned with a law firm logo. “I saw this,” you tell Choso, rounding the table to his side in an attempt to keep his brother from being involved. It’s not like he’s old enough to understand either way. “Do you know anything about it?”

He shakes his head.

“Me either,” you tell him. “If your brother wants to tell me, then he will. I’m sure everything’s okay,” you reassure despite not being so sure yourself. Sukuna is strong-willed, smart, and beyond capable. Most could never manage what he’s pulling off, but a lawsuit is another issue entirely. Sukuna’s got a mouth on him and a penchant for fighting if the rumors are true, so you can only imagine what trouble he’s gotten himself into.

Choso picks his lizard back up, sliding three purple beads onto one side of the string. “Okay.” He threads the other side back through the beads and pulls the string tight to keep them in place. “I trust you.”

You smile, ruffling his hair. “Do you need help with the feet?” You ask with a glance at the lizards with lopsided and mismatched feet.

“Please!”

“Yes!”

You can worry about Choso’s homework in a bit. For now, you think both kids could use some time relaxing and doing some crafts as you pull up a chair.

–

Sukuna drags a hand down his face as he enters his apartment to the sound of two kids who are still very awake. Excited screams fill the apartment, alongside your saccharine voice that he can only assume is attempting to corral the kids based on your stern tone.

Dropping his keys on the table at the door, he kicks his boots to the side and shrugs his coat off, ready for a shower and dead silence alone in his room more than anything. He trudges tiredly towards the washroom, his lips twitching into a frown as Yuji goes bolting past him, followed closely by Choso.

“Go to bed, brats!” He hisses, his voice gruff with irritation as he makes his way to the washroom.

You barely manage to see the door closing behind your friend as you trail after the two boys, who’ve been balls of energy all night since Choso finished his homework. It’s sweet, of course, but your burnt out mind wasn’t prepared for them to have this much energy when you agreed to watch them.

As both boys turn and come barreling past you, you barely manage to catch Yuji and hoist him up into your arms, effectively stopping their game of tag.

“Nooooooooo!!” Yuji cries out between excited giggles. Choso skids to a halt in front of you with a disappointed frown.

“Come on, kiddos. You have school tomorrow, it’s bedtime.”

You’re met with a chorus of whines and sighs as you carry Yuji to their room. Choso trails close behind, pouting as you instruct them to get ready for bed. You help Yuji with pulling his hoodie over his head and choosing a pair of pajamas before giving them time to finish getting ready.

Yuji bursts from the door in a fit of giggles, running towards the cracked door of Sukuna’s room. “Yuji, come on it’s bedti-” you call after him as you follow him through the cracked door, eyes widening at the sight of Sukuna shirtless, his hair damp and hanging over his forehead. He must have finished his shower while you were trying to get his brothers to calm down. He shoots both of you an irritated snarl, his lip curled in frustration. “Sorry!” You squeak out, corralling Yuji out the door before Sukuna can bark out an order to get out of his room.

Your heart pounds, mind distant as you manage to get both kids into bed and read them Green Eggs and Ham. Once they’ve settled and you’re certain they’ll get some rest, you’re able to leave their room with a sigh, heading back to the main living space of the apartment, but Sukuna doesn’t seem to have made his way out of his room yet.

He doesn’t seem to be in the greatest mood and you consider taking your leave without a word, but figure that’s probably more rude than simply knocking on his door. Deciding to do exactly that, you make your way over to his bedroom and lightly tap his door with your knuckles.

“Come in.”

You push the door open, standing stiffly just within the frame. His room is decorated fairly dark with blacks, grays, and reds, only the dim light of a single lamp illuminating the room enough to be seen. There’s a desk pushed to one end of the room covered in workout gear, books, and various art supplies and a pile of clothes tossed over the desk chair, while his wardrobe off to the right is covered in hygiene supplies with only a single photo that you can’t make out in the relative dark. The light from his bedside lamp hardly illuminates the posters and art on his walls, which seem to be a variety of band posters, horror film posters, and his own art. There’s a drafting table opposite his wardrobe absolutely plastered in art supplies as well, with charcoal smeared over the wood.

“You just gonna stand there lookin’ like a fish outta water?” Sukuna asks from where he’s leaning against the headboard of his bed in the center of the room. His nose is buried in his laptop, the dull glow lighting up his features. Crimson irises gleam like deep drops of blood as you round the room, taking a look around as you realize he is genuinely inviting you in. As you step towards his wardrobe, your eyes train on the photo that you can now make out in the dim light.

There’s an older man with hair that matches Yuji and Sukuna’s standing to one side of the photo. Toddler Yuji is sound asleep with his head on the man’s shoulder, with Choso in the center in a graduation cap. You assume it must be an elementary school graduation or something of the sort. Sukuna stands much taller than everyone else in the photo at the back with a mild expression. He’s noticeably taller, with no facial tattoos although you can faintly make out his neck tattoos.

In the corner of the image, there’s a piece missing, and you can see that at one point there was a woman in the side of the photo, her dress visible behind Choso. Her face has been cut out of the photo and you can’t make out a single feature aside from the end of her hair. It looks fairly similar to Choso’s, long and dark. You figure this must be their parents, and Sukuna isn’t fond of his mother.

“He was a lot better with them.” You glance back at Sukuna as he shuts his laptop, setting it on his bedside table. It’s then that you realize he’s still shirtless, your gaze falling way too obviously down to his sculpted abdomen. He looks like a goddamn sculpture by Michaelangelo himself, made by a god in his craft. The peaks and valleys of his abs could make even the strongest person’s mouth water and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t a great effort to tear your gaze from his abs. Now’s not the time. Swallowing hard, you find his eyes.

Sukuna would usually smirk, finding amusement in your inability to keep your eyes on his face, but the can of worms he’s just opened isn’t one he approaches lightly. He’s willingly offering up a piece of his vulnerability to you, leaving the ball in your court.

“That’s your dad?” You ask, turning to look at the photo again.

“Mhm. He put in a lotta when their mom left to work in another country.”

“Their mom? You’re half-brothers, then?” You carefully approach the bed, taking a seat gingerly at the side.

“Yeah. Our dad sure knew how to pick ‘em.” There’s a story there for sure, but he’s already moving on before you can pry. “He knew how to handle the brats. They were happy.”

You slide further onto the bed, leaning against the headboard beside him. “They’re happy with you too, Sukuna.”

His eyes slowly slide down from the ceiling to meet your gaze. He contemplates your words for a moment, a forlorn sigh parting his lips. “It ain’t the same.”

You shuffle to face him, sitting cross-legged as you will your eyes to stay on his face. “Sukuna, you’re good with them. You care and you’re trying, that’s what matters.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Good with them, my ass.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You saw what happened earlier. Choso was afraid of me n’ Yuji was cryin’.” He drags his hand down his face. “Shit’s a disaster here. I’m never even home to look after ‘em.”

You blink as he airs his grievances with the world, with himself. “You’re joking, right?”

Sukuna’s head lolls dramatically towards you, face tense with frustration. “Do I look like I am, princess?”

A shiver runs up your spine but you keep your eyes (and mind) straight on his face. “Seriously, you are good with them. You’re allowed to be frustrated, just like Yuji’s allowed to be afraid. He’s a kid, he’s gonna make a big deal out of little things.” You offer a sympathetic smile. “And Choso’s not afraid of you. He’s worried about you.”

“Worried about what?” Sukuna’s face scrunches in confusion. “The fuck is a twelve-year-old doin’ worrying about me?”

You giggle at his brutish expression, diffusing his frustration. He blows a breath out through his lips, running a hand through his hair that’s gradually drying as you speak. The silence that envelops the both of you is calm, the lamp providing an air of warmth as you work through Sukuna’s worries. The soft orange glow of the bulb illuminates his features in such a handsome manner that it’s hard to sit next to him without stray thoughts.

“Choso may only be twelve, but he’s smart. He knows something’s off. We both do.”

His eyes shoot up, his stare intensifying. “Nothing’s off,” he growls sternly, as if trying to convince himself.

“So Yuji gets his lying habits from you, huh?” You tease, keeping your voice soft as you prod at his thigh.

“I’m not lying, fuck off with that,” he grouses, swatting your hand away. You quietly giggle to yourself again, paying no mind to his pointed stare.

“Was your dad this stubborn too?”

You’re not shocked that Sukuna’s response to your teasing is to roll his eyes, but he still entertains a response. “No. He was a teacher, he had the patience of a god.”

“That’s right, he was a history teacher, wasn’t he?”

“Mm.”

“Was he an artist too?”

“No. That’s all me.”

You slide up the bed, inching somewhat closer to him again as you lean back against the headrest, looking around the room at the art above his drafting table. “You’re a great artist, Kuna.”

He hums, following your gaze to the wall where he’s plastered anatomy practice and art of faceless figures. He doesn’t get much time to work on any art these days, but given the opportunity, he would certainly do it more.

His gaze drifts to your face, so calm and inquisitive in spite of his frosty and rough edges. You hardly seem bothered by anything he throws your way, accepting his relative rudeness in stride and he’s not sure he deserves that kindness. No, he knows he doesn’t. Still, sitting here with you, bathed in the soft light of his lamp, he finds himself seeking the comfort of your voice, so soft and understanding as you offer him genuine advice and listen to his gripes without belittling him.

You come from a world so obviously different from his, yet you never seem to see him as anything less than what he is. Hell, you see him as something more than he sees in himself, as much as he hates to admit it. Maybe that’s why he finds himself drawn to you. Maybe that’s why your absence caused him so much trouble.

In truth, he’s not so sure anymore.

There’s a lot he’s not so sure about anymore.

He basks in the silence, sighing deeply as he slumps further back against the headboard. “I think they might be better off in the hands of someone else.”

Your eyes widen, your head whipping over to stare at him. “What? You don’t seriously think that.”

“Do I sound like I’m making a fuckin’ joke?” He huffs, his jaw tense.

“Sukuna, you’re literally their hero. They look up to you more than you could ever imagine.”

He blanches, all signs of irritation dropped as his brow twitches and lips part. The expression on his face is unreadable, a mix of emotions that aren’t familiar on his chiselled features. With a sharp intake of breath, he shuts his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Kuna?”

“Gimme a moment, fuck.” His voice is muffled through his hands, remaining frozen as he lets out a long sigh. When he drops his hands from his face, he stares down at his lap with that same distant and solemn expression from earlier. You let the silence be at his request, giving him a chance to work through his jumbled thoughts.

Breathing in through his nose, he lets out a breath through pursed lips, his hand reaching for your leg as he squeezes the plush of your thigh. His jaw clenches as he clings to you like a lifeline, the only thing able to ground him and keep him from the thoughts that have been causing him to go through three times his usual dose of nicotine.

And fuck, he cannot afford to keep going through cigarettes at that rate.

Your mind is doing circles at the feeling of his touch on your leg of all places, the heat of his skin warming your leggings.

Blinking, you tilt your head to get a better view of him. “Where’s this all coming from anyway? What happened to the cocky asshole I met a couple of months ago?”

That seems to bring him back as he scowls at you, deflecting your question. “Really runnin’ your mouth for someone whose dinner came from my fridge.”

“Hey! I consider that payment for watching your brothers. Besides, my cooking is great. You should be happy I made you leftovers,” you pout.

He smirks, playfully squeezing your thigh and sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. You swallow to keep yourself from having a noticeable reaction, keeping your attention on a non-descript area of the wall. “Who’s the cocky one now, princess?”

Even with his hand heavy on your thigh, his teasing is so normal that it almost makes you forget that the heat between your legs is begging for friction that you can’t chase because he would feel your thighs clench.

“What can I say? My cooking’s that good.”

“Your cooking ends up on my fucking floor most of the time.”

“The bread crumbs were one time, Sukuna,” you whine, playfully shaking your head.

“From you, maybe. Choso tried to copy your mac and cheese and even convinced my dumb ass he knew how to do it.” Sukuna scoffs, tilting his head towards you. The warmth of his breath fans your neck as he leans in. “D’you know what happened?” He asks, his voice lowered enough to make your heart flutter.

You wince. “Bread crumbs on the floor.”

“Bread crumbs on the fuckin’ floor.”

You bring a hand up to your face, giggling. To your surprise, Sukuna’s chest jolts in a single sputtered laugh, until he’s actually chuckling along with you. Not a smug laugh, not making fun of something, your laughter is contagious and his is genuine.

Comfortable silence finds you, simply enjoying one another’s company. The dull light in his lamp flickers, pulling both of your attention to the bulb on its last legs. Your eyes trail the length of his silhouette, admiring the way his tattoos frame his face. The dark contrast of the solid ink makes the crimson of his irises pop, giving his already sharp features a more deadly appearance.

Everything about him seems to signify a lethal edge; between the way he carries himself, shutting the world out and fending only for himself and his brothers, and his inclination towards frustration. Yet, every so often, you see another side to him, a side where the edges are softer and he seems more himself.

That’s not to say those rougher edges aren’t still there, but the calmer side of him rounds him out and makes his snark more endearing.

Sukuna’s the first to turn back from the lamp, gaze flickering between your eyes. His chest rises and falls, the quiet sounds of his breath punctuating the otherwise silent room.

Sukuna can hear your breath hitch when you realize he’s staring, using the opportunity to squeeze your thigh. It pulls a strangled gasp from deep in your chest and your eyes widen. He can’t help himself, the way your body reacts to him is like a narcotic, and he can’t help but want more.

There’s never been a moment since you met that Sukuna hasn’t known you find him attractive. It’s why he enjoys pushing your buttons so much, but when you slipped so easily alongside him in his personal life, you became something more than a quick fuck. Someone to keep around. Someone who betters him.

In the dim glow of his lamp, laid out on his bed with his palm splayed over your thigh like it belongs there, something deeper stirs within him. Lust, surely. Only lust. You’re in his goddamn shirt, and he’s hungry. He’s starved for the feeling of bare skin slapping against his own, and you’re so damn gorgeous, like a cloud to any amount of judgment he can manage.

And you’re no better. You’ve been biting your lip until it’s raw as you resist the urge to clench your thighs since he invited you in. Sukuna’s not a traditional man, in all of your daydreams and fantasies, you had never imagined him treating you to dinner and romantically confessing. You never had broad expectations for anything extravagant from him.

That’s not what you want from him. You just want him as he is. You want him to let you in, to let you help him find himself and find happiness.

The air around you is charged, crackling with anticipation as his barriers begin to degrade and you let out a shaky breath. The world seems to hold its breath around you, the bustling city so quiet you could hear a pin drop as its noise fades into the background.

Sukuna’s tongue swipes over his lower lip, all reason thrown to the wolves as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are commanding, guiding you towards one thing and one thing only: pleasure. He moves his body over top of yours, caging you beneath his muscular build. You’re so small under him and the control he exerts over you is exhilarating.

The kiss is sloppy, filled with desperation as he settles himself over you, letting his hands roam your body. You’re pliant beneath him, thrilling in the way his hands slide down your waist to your hips. His grip tightens, fingers holding you in-place almost bruisingly. Your pussy throbs, clenching around nothing as slick pools between your thighs.

Consequences be damned, you’re both addicted to the taste and feel of one another.

Sukuna softly bites your lower lip, pulling a whimper from deep in your throat. He smirks against your lips, pressing his hardened bulge against your core. He swallows your gasp, running his tongue along your lower lip as he seeks entrance. You grant him what he’s looking for, drunk on his taste, minty with a hint of smoke.

Sliding your hands up his tense arms, you find purchase in gripping his shoulders as your head spins. He rolls his hips again, revelling in the feel of your nails digging into his bare skin. Getting your bearings, you allow your hands to explore the expanse of his chest, roaming down the high peaks and deep valleys of his extremely pronounced abs. You pause at his waistband, unable to help your smirk as he groans, his abdomen tensing under your touch.

He’s desperate for more, pressing you further into the bed as his lips explore your jaw, dipping his head into your neck to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head to grant him easier access, jaw slack and eyes glazed. His breath noticeably quickens when your fingers dip beneath his waistband, but you pause there.

You pull back suddenly, pushing hard against his chest as you practically have to peel him off of you.

“What’re-”

You slap a palm over his mouth, muffling the rest of his question until he can hear why you’ve paused. The sound of sock-clad footsteps on hardwood catches his attention and he quickly pulls away, putting enough distance between you to imply innocence. Sukuna pulls a pillow out from behind him, grunting as he sets it on his lap and leans his head back against the headboard.

Shortly after, the doorknob clicks and cracks open, a pair of golden-brown eyes peering into the room. Reddened and filled with tears, your mind sobers quickly as you hop off the bed and jog over to Choso to kneel before him.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You ask, taking in a breath to keep from panting.

“I had a nightmare.”

Ah. Sukuna had mentioned Choso had been having a lot of nightmares lately and it seemed to be keeping him up. You wonder if it’s related to his concerns regarding his older brother and the lawsuit. He may be young, but he seems to have a general understanding of the gravity of getting lawyers involved in situations.

Knowing what you know now about Sukuna’s family, you wonder if he’s been around lawyers before, given their father’s passing. Then there’s the question of Choso and Yuji’s mother, who’s clearly not in the picture anymore.

Quite literally.

You cast another glance back at Sukuna, whose chest is rising and falling heavily as he stares at the ceiling.

“That’s okay sweetheart, do you want me to come talk to you for a bit?”

Choso glances briefly at his brother before nodding. Smiling softly at him, you usher him out of the room and shut the door behind you, trailing after Sukuna’s little brother. He leads the way to his room, sitting on his bed.

Kneeling at the side of his bed, you keep your voice to a whisper to avoid waking his brother. “Did you want to talk about it, Cho?”

He considers this option for a moment, staring at his hands in his lap before shaking his head.

“That’s alright.” You smile reassuringly. “Your brother mentioned this has been happening a lot lately. I just want you to know you can talk to me if you need.”

Choso hesitates, staring down at his hands in his lap again, before shaking his head.

“That’s fine too. Do you want me to-”

“Chocho?” Yuji’s groggy voice sounds as he flips in his bed against the opposite wall, calling out your name as well.

“Go back to sleep, Yu. Your brother just had a nightmare,” you smile softly in the darkness of the room, your face illuminated only by a nightlight on the wall. You turn back to Choso. “Do you want me to read something until you fall back to sleep? I won’t let any monsters get you,” you reassure him with a grin.

Choso nods slowly.

“Great, what book?”

Choso peers over at the bookshelf, kicking his feet as he skims the titles on each spine. “I’ve already read all of these.”

Frowning, you tap your fingers on your thigh in thought. That had never stopped him from requesting Bridge to Terabithia before, but you suppose that’s neither here nor there at the moment.

What is with his taste in movies and books, why does he like the most heart wrenching titles?

“I could tell you a story,” you decide. Choso’s demeanor picks up as he nods eagerly, getting back in bed. You glance back at Yuji, who’s still quietly watching you. You suppose telling them a story won’t hurt. Pulling up a chair, you take a seat between the beds. “Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort. Which would only be broken by love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle, guarded by a terrible fire breathing dragon.”

You do your best to focus on your story-telling, although sitting in the dark waiting for the kids to fall asleep as you try to recall the story, something stirs in the back of your mind.

Something dread-inducing and sobering.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined your first kiss with Sukuna, dreamt of it in the back of your mind and forcibly pushed it down. It only made sense that Sukuna’s flirting was mainly out of jest and teasing, so you had swallowed your feelings and been what Sukuna needed the most. A friend.

Now with the time to think clearly, it occurs to you that there was no spark, no fireworks, and no romance behind the way you kissed. Neither of you had been chasing anything beyond surface-level lust, and you’re just as guilty as he is.

It’s painful to think that the image you’d had in the back of your mind for so long isn’t the reality, but that’s life, isn’t it? You may get another side of Sukuna that most don’t, but at the end of the day, you suppose that doesn’t mean he shares the feelings you caught for him. You had every opportunity to clarify what you wanted from him, but instead you slipped your fingers under his waistband.

Fuck.

Your heart clenches, your chest tightening at the realization that your friendship with Sukuna could very easily hang by a thread because you both got caught up in one another.

“The ogre and the donkey travel to…” you trail off at the realization that both kids are sound asleep, slipping out of the room with a pit of dread in your stomach.

With a sharp intake of air, you let out a breath and quietly open Sukuna’s room door.

“Hey…”

“Hey.” Sukuna hasn’t moved since you left the room.

Silence punctuates the air, the tension palpable and just as uncomfortable as you could have predicted. The friendship with Sukuna that you had worked so hard to nurture seems to hang precariously in the balance of discomfort and regret.

“Was that story fuckin’ Shrek?” Sukuna asks with narrowed eyes. It does little to quell the unease hanging low over your heads.

You laugh nervously. “Yeah. I didn’t know what story to tell.”

“Do you have the fuckin’ opening memorized?”

“I guess so,” you chuckle again, unable to meet his gaze. The silence spreads once again. “Um- I should go.”

Sukuna doesn’t know what to say. He shouldn’t have kissed you. He shouldn’t have grinded on you.

He doesn’t want to complicate something he doesn’t quite understand himself.

So why the hell does his stomach drop when those words leave your lips? Lips that were on his barely a half hour ago.

The uncertainty of where you sit with one another lies in the distance between you both. It settles like dust over a table left untouched for many years, yet it accumulated in only a few minutes. You want to reach out and find the answers you’re looking for, but you don’t have words.

What the hell are you supposed to say? You’ve hopelessly fallen for him and you don’t want whatever it is you have to end, even at the cost of unrequited feelings? No, Sukuna would push you away.

Sukuna doesn’t even attempt to clear the dust, he can only stare, wondering what’s going through your mind, because what’s going through his makes no sense to him.

Whatever it is that he’s feeling now, it’s a jumbled mess. It’s not the same distress he felt at the thought of you presenting alone and it’s not the lust he’d chased that left him with a painful erection.

Whatever he feels, it’s some sort of warning. Like an omen that he’s somehow fucked things up again with you, tearing a rift through the friendship that even he has worked hard to mend. He wonders if one heated kiss is enough to dissolve the effort he’d put into everything, if this changes what you had for good.

So why the hell are the next words to part his lips “yeah. See ya.”?

Watching you slip away, listening to you pack your belongings in a hurry and slip out the door without even a goodbye, Sukuna grits his teeth and slams his head back against the headboard. If the ground split open and swallowed him whole right now, he thinks he would prefer that to the sound of the front door shutting.

Fuck. Fuck, he did it again.

How many times would you let him fuck up your friendship before you deemed him not worth the time of day?

Shit, he hopes you’ll let him make it up to you once more, even if he’s not sure he deserves it.

What the hell was he thinking, anyway? Or, more likely, not thinking? Was he so driven by a need to wet his dick that he seeked out the one person he couldn’t bear to watch walk away from him?

Why is it that he can’t keep his mind clear when it comes to you?

Sukuna rubs his hands over his face. “Fuck.” Should he chase after you? No, no. He can’t have you thinking there’s any meaning behind his actions beyond whatever it was you already had.

And even he knows how fucked up of a thought that is, one that sits in the pit of his stomach like sour bile. He grimaces, blinking at the foreign feeling of guilt wrapping its ugly fingers tightly around him.

He pulls out his laptop, opening the email chain you’ve been using since the two of you met, but his fingers pause over the keyboard. What the hell is he supposed to say? ‘Sorry for kissing you’? ‘Sorry for thinking with my dick instead of my head’?

“Fuck,” he hisses, louder this time. Tossing his laptop on his bed, he trudges out into the living room, grabbing the broken cap of his lighter and its base from his coat pocket, and what’s left of his pack of cigarettes before standing out in the cold night air in only his sweatpants.

The nicotine hardly seems to make a dent in the toiling emotions tightening his chest and hollowing his stomach. He’s smoked his way through so many packs lately that the dent on his wallet and his reliance on the drug only seems to be growing, yet another pile of problems to add onto his list.

You’re the only thing that seems to quell his narcotic addiction, but you’ve got to be some sort of drug yourself with the way Sukuna behaves like a braindead dumbass around you.

Staring at the ember at the end of the cigarette in his hand, he sighs, leaning forward on the railing of the balcony. The cold doesn’t seem to touch him, like he’s numb to the world beyond his own issues.

Sukuna is a truly fucked man.

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❦ a/n ; poor sukuna and reader do nawwwt know how to make things easy on themselves 🙂‍↔️ thank you all so much for reading and for all the love and kind comments and asks, they seriously make my day and i'm so happy to chat with yall and hear your thoughts. shoutout as well to my reader who suggested a type o negative shirt cameo, this one's for you <33 reader is stronger than i am for not leaping on sukuna when he invited her into his room shirtless tbh. i am weak for him ANYWHO thaaank you as always and i hope you're all doing well <33

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

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vxlentinescookies · 3 months ago

Note

can you do smc x reader…any type is okay I am just hungry

→ ❛The Dark side of the Moon❜

→ Pairing ; Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader

→ Quote ; ❛❛ He knows you’d lie for him… but would he?❜❜

→ Genre ; Headcanons

→ A/N ; Sorry for the delay, here you go! Headcanons might change from my previous ones hahah

The Moon is often seen, by those who have studied it, as two faced, one shining bright with a smile, the other, obscured by such light, hiding in deceit. Much like the Moon, Shadow Milk is two faced, but perhaps all you know is the light side of the moon, always bright, always eager to show off.

Shadow Milk is a complex being, sometimes he’s joyful, sometimes he isnt, but he makes sure that when he tells you he loves you, that that isnt taken for granted.

Still, he dosent say it often, usually in answer to you saying you love him, or in moments of high energy, but then again, for it to come out of his lips unprompted…

Nevertheless, he’s a jack of all trades, we all know that! He will show off, whether himself or you, to the world.

Not exactly a gentle lover, he may try to be, but his more playful side always comes out one way or another, so we could say he’s more playful and energetic than gentle.

But the moon has two sides, and sometimes, its hard to bring afloat the darker side of the moon, hidden, lurking, obscure, even to the holder of its energy. Shadow Milk has a side no one has seen, of course he does, a side that not even the light in the world has ever seen, and its that his past as the fount of knowledge haunts him, creeps up in him. He knows you’d lie for him… but would he?

Deceit and Truth come hand in hand like two sides of the same coin, and yet, for you, he’s as truthful as he can be.

Sometimes you’ll see him sitting on the spire, sitting and looking out into the mystical world of his own. Deep in thought, deep in reflexion,

If you come and you take a seat by his side, he’ll unconsciously lean on you, or hold you, and maybe, if you’re particularly lucky, he’ll cry in your arms.

Hold him, creep your arms on his hair and thread it softly, much like all humans, he too has a persona and shadows. Greet them both, and perhaps you’ll make him feel like the times he believed in lies too.

#🌙;stellar headcanons #shadow milk cookie x reader #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader

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mokie-bleh · 1 year ago

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heyyyy i saw your headcanons for shadow milk and rly enjoyed it and i was wondering if you could do yandere of him??? if not you can ignore this:>

YAN! Shadow Milk Cookie

If you aren't a fan of yandere subjects I don't recommend reading this

Warnings: yandere themes, attempt kidnapping, obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, etc.

Before he became evil his relationship with you was nice and peaceful. You guys enjoyed each other's company.

When he does start realizing his true potential and how much power he really has he starts slowly becoming corrupt and that has an effect on him with you.

You’ll notice he’s more possessive and way more clingy with you always grabbing you and taking you with him everywhere.

If he’s not walking right by your side he is most likely stalking you from behind. If you do catch him he’ll play off saying he was just walking and didn’t notice you were in front of him and you shouldn't assume things. (first red flag)

Like in my previous headcanon he is a jealous type, but when he’s a yandere good luck on trying to spend time with anyone other than him. Manipulates you into believing that your friends are no good for you and he’s just trying to look out for you.

You’re just a weak lil cookie who needs someone like himself to protect you, you don’t know any better <3

Might break into your house at night and watch you sleep and quietly dotes on you saying stuff like how cute you are, how’d you guys be perfect together, and softly moves your hair out of your face.

Before he leaves he tucks you in and kisses your forehead and leaves making sure everything is back in place so it seems as if he was never there to begin with.

You wake up with the weird feeling you weren't alone last night but that can’t be true so you shrug it off.

When all of earthbread turns into complete chaos he makes an attempt to kidnap you, obviously you being aware of what is happening you ran. You couldn’t believe what was happening, this couldn’t be right, that wasn’t the Shadow Milk Cookie at least not the one you used to love and know.

During this chase he sees this as a game, like a game of mouse and cats. While you were running you could hear his distant laugh taunting you. "Where are you~ You know I’ll catch you eventually. Then you’ll be all MINE!”

You slow down your running and try to catch your breath and hide. You couldn’t hear him anymore and you thought you were safe and he gave up trying to catch you. Oh boy were you wrong.

You feel something wrap around you. You look down and see bright glowing strings around and before you can properly react you quickly get dragged by them.

You then feel arms wrap around you from behind. That's when you truly start panicking “hehehe HAHAHA FOUND YOU~!!”

When he gets trapped in the Silver Tree by the witches he is pissed. He’s yelling, cursing and tries to make an attempt to pull the bars apart. He’s reaching out for and begging for you not to leave him. “nononoNONONO! DON’T LEAVE ME!!”

After that earthbread was restored and had new holders for the soul jams. You're free and don’t have to worry about Shadow Milk Cookie again.

Right?.........

----Bonus----

Definitely has a secret shrine of you. There’s pictures of you and small things he stole from you and it’s all surrounded by crafts he made of you.

Has a plushie of you and him. When he’s alone he makes them kiss and makes up scenarios of you guys together.

You're literally so perfect to him anything you do like something as simple as giving him some treats you made. He’s swooning all over you saying how much he loves you.

here you get a drawing enjoy~

#shadow milk cookie #cookie run kingdom #crk #shadow milk cookie x reader #crk x reader #yandere cookie run

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softlypaintedseafoam · 3 months ago

Text

as soft as a misty rain

synopsis. it's all typical sanji; there's no deeper meaning to his actions. until it isn't all typical sanji and there are many meanings to everything he does.

pairing. vinsmoke sanji x f!reader

word count. 1.3k | masterlist

content warning. recently established relationship, allusions that sanji's past is more complicated than he lets on, reader has a defined devil fruit ability, plus size reader in mind (but read how you want)

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

one of two reposts i'm doing today with my valentine's day event nearly completed. this fic was a gift for my friend @hash-slinging-slasher-trash and i wanted it over here too

Sanji has always handled you with care.

There is nothing to realize. It’s an objective fact that has been apparent from almost the very moment you met on Charmed Enclave. Aside from children, there are very specific individuals Sanji will always be gentle with. An enthusiastic softness, eager and ready to serve at the drop of a hat.

I’m not special, you had told yourself, clutching Zoro’s previous warnings tightly. He does this for every woman, with or without a pulse.

It didn’t matter how many treats he brought you, reserved solely for you.

There was no deeper meaning to when he held out his hand to help you down a few steps.

Nor did it matter if he’d push Zoro onto a puddle for you to walk across like a coat taking in all the liquid, amusing as it had been.

It’s all typical Sanji.

The question is raised when it isn’t typical Sanji; that is what makes your skin buzz as Sanj’s fingers thrum across your own. What makes your chest warm as you watch as he wraps a cloth around your palms and your fingers, how he touches you as if protecting a thousand treasures.

“I won’t lie and say the Nervy Nervy Fruit isn’t useful,” Sanji murmurs with a sigh. “But if you can’t feel pain, how are you supposed to recognize your limits? Like the other day.”

You chuckle sheepishly and Sanji’s expression is uncharacteristically sharp, unamused at the display. You are sure he will be sour about your turning off your pain receptors to test the heat of the stovetop a while longer. The blond has been fretting over you like a mother hen even since. “I’ll try to be more mindful,” you promise when your chuckles subside, letting your gaze rest on your connected hands. As of now, you’ve only dulled your senses to a light discomfort. Enough to feel everything without wanting to croak from your injuries. “But this time I was distracted, I normally don’t singe myself when I check how hot the stove is.”

That does little to sway Sanji in your favor.

“I’ll be more careful,” you dramatically let your head hang as if you’re being reprimanded by your boss.

“You’ll make Chopper sad otherwise,” despite his words, Sanji sounds satisfied with the conclusion. “Think about Chopper. That’s what you told me, remember?”

Your shoulders shake with hearty laughter, “don’t use my words against me,” you beam brightly with a hint of challenge. “And you should be thanking me. Quitting smoking is going to help you in the long run. What if they started calling you Black Lung Sanji? What would you do then?” Not to mention with how impressionable the young reindeer is, the last thing you want is to see him attempting to take a smoke break between patients.

With how hectic things tend to get for the Straw Hats, it is too easy to envision.

Sanji’s cigarettes and lighter had to go for the greater good.

As your laughter subsides, a comfortable silence settles over you both.

“So,” you feel possessed to break it. Comfortable as it may be, you fear you’ll drown in it. Sink deeper and deeper in it until you do something foolish, whatever foolish thing that may be. It’s easy to drown as a power holder, it is why you are always careful around the water’s edge. What happens when you find a piece of the ocean you aren’t afraid to fall into, however. You’ve never been prepared for that. “Have you always wanted to become a cook? I know that’s what you were doing before you joined the crew.”

At your query, Sanji’s eyes shine like a child’s, “it is.” As if he’s water flowing over a dam, Sanji tells you about his home in the East Blue. The floating restaurant, the Baratie ー a concept you’ve never certainly thought possible ー and the fighting cooks that reside in it.

He tells you about Zeff and the many cooks that joined his ranks over the years. Laughter falls from your lips as easily as the stories leave Sanji’s.

The Baratie sounds more like the Waffle House restaurant chain throughout your home island than anything else. At the tail end of Sanji’s story about how a line cook named Peter got into a fist fight with three drunks and a cranky chicken, you finally ask, “what made you love cooking so much?”

“I’ve always enjoyed it, but I’d say my mom is the one who really encouraged it,” he tells you thoughtfully, his hands moving slower against your own as he recalls the woman. He should have long since finished, you know, but you don’t mind that he’s stalled in his ‘wound tending efforts’. It’s nice feeling as if it is only you on the ship when in reality you are just the only ones awake. “I liked making her lunches, not that I was always good at it. But even if it tasted like garbage, she always ate it,” the blond’s dark eyes are miles away from where you sit on the Sunny. “Then she’d ask me to make her something else again.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” you try to imagine what such a gentle person looks like. I think you probably look a lot like her. A good portion of the woman’s character certainly had been imbued in her son. He’s always been gentle and kind, you’ve seen it in how he treats Chopper.

It’s easy to baby the crew’s smallest member, but there is something unique in how everyone does it. Sanji was meant to be a father. It’s a thought that flusters you, but you know it is true regardless. It’s a bit too soon to think about that though.

“It,” Sanji’s gaze doesn’t meet yours as his thumb brushes over the back of your cloth-covered hand. You aren’t able to dwell long on what exactly your newly minted boyfriend means, however, as he continues on. “will probably be easier meeting Zeff than my mother. He’s a stubborn old fart but he means well. You’ll like him. Just don’t believe anything those jackasses at the Baratie tell you about me. I just know they put up that god awful wanted poster of me where everyone can see it.”

A giggle slips from your lips at Sanji’s distressed expression and you recall how he begged for you to pretend the portrait didn’t exist.

It’s easy to imagine all the cantankerous characters he mentioned growing up with. Zeff, Patty, Carne and you can easily picture the boisterous men hanging Sanji’s wanted poster for all to see like proud parents and uncles. Ones very good at teasing their group’s baby. The men who made Black Leg Sanji ‘Black Leg Sanji’.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

Sanji pauses at your words before he lips stretch into a dreamy smile and you let yourself arrogantly assume he’s picturing the same things you are. “I can’t wait to introduce you to them.” With that, his tending to your hand is finished, cloth gently knotted so it can’t move. “I’m no Chopper, so he’ll probably have to redo it once he wakes up.”

You smile at his handiwork, “thanks again.” You think that will be the end of your little moment, but rather than let your hand go Sanji holds your fingers a touch tighter.

“Can I kiss your hand,” the cook asks earnestly, dark eyes reserved yet hopeful.

“You don’t have to ask permission for that,” your chest burns a gold the color of Sanji’s hair. It’s unfair how easily he gets your heart pounding like a drum. In spite of your words, he doesn’t lean forward an inch. “Of course you can,” you grumble, eyes darting to a particularly interesting piece of wood in your embarrassment.

The hair of his chin dances across your skin like raindrops.

#romance dawn ー 🌅#one piece x reader #op x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader

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takes1 · 2 months ago

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oh my lord i love your writing it literally has me geeked every time. any possibility you write more for my man asahi? i’ll take anything you have to offer but i can’t stop thinking about something similar in premise to the wrestling where, instead, it’s 7 minutes in heaven? possible details about the closet they’re in being too small for him, perhaps~ because what asahi fan doesn’t appreciate some size difference goodness

asahi azumane x reader w/ size kink

i literally said, out loud, "ohhh!!!" and started writing it as soon as i saw this ask - you have a gift for ideas my love. thank you for sending this in!!!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

details. fem!reader / 7 min. in heaven / heavy size kink / heavy claustrophilia / soft top!asahi / mutual?crushing / manhandling / thigh riding / making out / hickeys and marking / semi PDA / rough but sweet!asahi / 2.3k words / oh lord another maybe? two parter

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

"Well, it's not a closet per se," Suga cocked his head at the half-done, dusty, crawl space the group chose for this game, "But it'll do, right?"

Asahi glanced down at you and didn't stop. You were taken by a big wave of chills, crossed your arms, looked away, then back up-- and he was still looking down at you. Any hope of subtlety was over.

He nodded, despite being the most effected by the size problem of this unfortunate reality.

"Well, there's nothing in it."

A fair point. The other closets were filled with closet-like things. Towels, cleaning supplies, pantry items, tools. The group, consisting of mixed-up members of Karasuno volleyball teams, had a fun treasure hunt with that stuff, but this was what you were after. A closet to play your thirsty game in.

'Unfortunate' was just one mode of perception. Less room meant more contact, but nobody was saying that aloud.

"Can you even fit in here, dude?" Nishinoya clambered out with relative ease, albeit sideways.

Every girl except you looked away as Asahi tried, embarrassed at the way the boards creaked, how he wouldn't be able to enter normally because his shoulders were too wide for the space. He had to bend at the waist because he was far too tall. You scanned the empty space in front of him, warm and tingly.

There was some room! You could fit there and you would, maybe, die trying.

Ever since Daichi retired to his room for the night, nobody had taken up the burdensome mantle of responsibility. His dad-like severity had a strong influence on the types of activities that were 'allowed' to happen.

7 Minutes in Heaven would have never been brought up with him present.

As long as the Karasuno teams were quiet enough to not wake him, you could carry on.

It's not that a game of spin the bottle, or some truth or dare, was necessarily scandalous, but it was enough to get everybody giggling and generate the who-has-a-crush-on-who type of conversations. Since everybody left downstairs were the interested ones that hadn't gone to bed already, it left this smaller, more intimate group to carry out some otherwise repressed desires.

You weren't the first to go in, but it was clear that the first pairing didn't do anything. That was fine and all, and a good reminder that you didn't have to kiss, if you didn't want to.

When Asahi was asked who he wanted to spend the time with, he returned your previous admission from a different game.

"I mean- why would I not say (Y/n)?"

He looked from Suga, who had taken the mantle of 'fun-mom' in all of this, being the bottle-spinner and card-holder and question-maker, back to you.

You realized the time he took to look at his friend was probably the only instance in the past 30 minutes that his eyes hadn't been locked onto you, ever since you admitted your little crush for him.

Getting in was about as easy as you imagined.

It had you both packed so tight that you had maybe an inch to move, at best. It forced you to put your hands on each other, just to stay oriented in the pitch black, and not trip.

"G-od," He sighed, and you earned a centimeter of space for two seconds. Then he had to take another breath and you were immobilized again, "We gotta- gotta adjust, or somethi-ng."

A strained, "Y-eah," was all you could get out. This was not a space meant to fit two people.

"I think, if... I..."

In the darkness, all you could see was some vague shadows move as he stretched down. His palms swallowed up your sides, and you desperately tried to keep your excitement down when you felt for his shoulders. He curled you up and threaded a strong, wide thigh between yours.

Most of it was genuine adjustment, but that didn't mean that it felt any less erotic. Just having to wrap your arms around his body and pull, so that you could sit higher up on his leg, was making your heart race.

"That feel better?"

His grumbly tone forced your thighs to tighten, the way you sat becoming more arched.

You could only give him a whisper, voice strained, because of how nervous you felt, "Yes."

Asahi chuckled right away, his breath ghosting right past your temple.

It was impossible to tell if he was bent to purposefully be close, or if there was no space to straighten more. You assumed the most polite option.

"You, uh- you... comfortable?" He muttered, more against you instead of anywhere else he could've possibly spoken, "Comfortable enough- I guess?"

You laughed, "Sure, yeah."

His thumb started rubbing against your side as he laughed with you. You could feel yourself getting wet, and tried to suppress any automatic squirming.

"You're- a... a nice seat--," Your face scrunched, your innocent words unsuccessful at trying to make things silly, and easy.

"Oh?" He chuckled at you.

"I- didn't--," You looked up in the dark, but couldn't see anything, and tried to pray away your embarrassment, "I did not mean it like that."

His grin spread, and you could feel his stubble really clearly against your forehead.

A tiny kiss to your hairline made your fingers grip his t-shirt, your spine straighten, your poor heart work even harder.

"It's okay if you did," The smile in his voice was so sweet.

Kissing him was shockingly simple. You felt like you had lots to say, things to explain, but they were so unimportant when his lips were soft and reading you like an open book.

The only crucial detail needed, for the moment, in this closet, was that you were super into him, and he was at least entertaining it.

For minutes, he couldn't decide where, how, he wanted to hold you. His arms would trade off between pulling you against his front in a hug, so he could feel more of your body on his.

Or, he would take more of a direct route of using his hands to pull you in for kisses, by the back of the neck, with his other palm keeping you pressed hard against his thigh.

The switch would happen any time you weren't heavy enough on his leg, or when your back wasn't arched enough to stay smushed against his chest.

"M-mh-," He was rolling your hips for you, weighing you down more on his thigh, flexing it just so.

You squirmed, having to part, at his lewd sounds.

He searched for you, huffing, in the dark, "Does that feel good?"

The tone he used with you was genuine, despite how dirty the phrase felt. For a moment, he stopped rubbing you against him.

You swallowed the mixture of spit in your mouth and tried to wipe the drool off of your lips, trembling, "Y-eah, it-- it's--,"

When your hand dipped to fix the seam of your shorts, you accidentally grabbed something warm, and stiff, and just off of where he had you grinding.

"Oh-! Sorry," You retracted your hand, face radiating heat, "I'm sorry."

His chest swelled in a restrained gasp through his nose. His voice was higher, and different as he reassured you it was completely fine.

"Was- that--? Mmh--," Before you could finish your tentative question, he wrapped one arm around you, palming half ass, half hip, while the other yanked you against his torso. It seemed he had realized a good middle ground between his holds.

Another partial moan at how he was able to pull you further up -so that you were trapping his cock between your bodies- got cut off by another clumsy kiss.

He bit you, at your bottom lip, and it throbbed for the rest of the time you kissed him. It made you shove a hand down the back of his shirt, give him an otherwise embarrassing sound, that he ate right up.

What you could feel of his print throbbed against you. A weakness radiated down through your fingers and toes as you scratched lines into his bare skin. It didn't do shit. It was like he didn't even feel it.

Actually, you wanted that shirt off.

It took just three seconds of pitiful tugging for him to let off, pull it over his head with one hand, and swing it to the dusty floor. Forgotten.

He was rough when he put his hands back on you, when you returned it, tugging, wanting to be closer however possible.

"Fuck-!" You sighed, breathing hard, fast, at his busy sucking down your neck.

His nails dug into your skin, his breathing characterized by needy groans that sounded a lot like he in the middle of a workout, if anything.

Since when did he like you back? Was it just because you were available? Would he have done this with any of the girls on your team? Not that it was much of a competition- none of them thought he looked 'civilized' enough to entertain him as an option.

Your legs were jelly, your thoughts heavy, but it didn't matter.

His shoulders would stretch further with every huff, expanding and resetting, and you couldn't stop yourself from scouring every inch while he was over you. It was getting hot in here. He was getting tacky, a little slippery in some areas.

He bit you too hard in a soft spot and you cried out, barely stuffing the sound into his bare shoulder. It was loud and you both knew it was audible through the other side of the door.

Asahi slowed, as gentle as he started, again, with an apologetic hum in the crook of your neck.

"Sorry," You could hear his smile, "Too much-"

He sighed and collected his nerves for a second as he readjusted his grip on you. More palm, less fingertips. It didn't sting as much and you missed it.

He said definitively, mostly to himself, "That was too much."

"I liked it!" You reassured him quietly, palm moving from his shoulder, to his neck, to the side of his face.

"I liked it. I liked it," Got repeated, in a tiny giggle, as he stilled.

You were delivering multiple little pecks across his face, craving his intensity as soon as you lost it. You tried holding him tighter, but it wasn't the same when he wasn't pushing and pulling.

That tingly sensation of his breathy laugh, his skilled tongue, was back on your neck, closer to your ear.

You melted at once with a whimper, the need to rock your own hips short-lived because he pushed his own against your heat.

"Ahh-!"

He grinned, sucking another bit of skin in an obvious spot, "Shhh."

The heartbeat between your legs was strong. He could feel it clearly against his thigh, wishing it was better placed and put to good use.

His fingertips were digging, pushing past the waistband of your shorts, further down, palm against your tummy. Maybe it was that feeling, maybe it was your enthusiasm, or maybe the fact that you were so wet he could feel that, too, but something possessed him to start getting greedy.

But he paid for it. While you were encouraging him, a hand around his thick forearm, guiding and pushing it down, a gasp already on your breath-- you were both completely blinded.

No courtesy knock. Just a bright light and a loud screech. Asahi retracted his curious hand in a flash, but there was not much else to do to make this look less provocative.

Though the sound was higher-pitched, it was not made from anyone on your team.

Nishinoya dropped to his knees, slack-jawed, and that's all you were able to register before the door slammed shut again.

Suga scolded him from the other side, others were shushing incessantly.

"You were supposed to knock, Noya!!"

"Now Daichi's gonna wake up! Nice going, dumbass!"

It gave you both enough time to try and separate. However, without opening the door, you couldn't get fully off of one another.

You were shaking, beyond nervous, and forcefully sobered. Not exactly happy.

"Um- that was great. Thank you," It was a short, and curt, way of telling him you didn't expect much after this. You had one hand on the door.

Asahi grabbed you by the waist and dragged you back. "C'mere--,"

His rough, messy, desperate last kiss was enough to leave you dizzy. He readjusted himself during it with one last rub.

"We're not done yet," He told you. Another hasty peck to the top of your head, and he was leagues lighter in tone, "Uh, sorry- As far as I'm concerned. Do what you want, though!"

He turned the knob for you and pushed it open a crack. You stumbled out, wiping your mouth.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @screamin-abt-haikyuu

potential for part two but i need to refrain from making promises. lmk if you're interested and i can make a taglist if i revisit!

my masterlist. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

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arbitrarykiwi · 3 months ago

Text

Third Times a Charm: Bodytalk 3/3

Nam-Gyu (Player 124) x AFAB Reader smut series

Summary: you ran into him three separate times. First was at a house party, second time was at a club. And like his favorite drugs, he was addicted. The third time? Well he wasn’t going to let you get away so easy. Third times a charm and he was going to get his fix. ((Non-squid game au))

Warnings: smut (18+), LONG (guys..I thought 6k for the last one was bad….this is 11k words...I couldn't help myself), drug usage (only weed this time lol), smoking weed, sex while high, stalker! Namgyu themes, fem centered pet names, divider added were smut starts for convenience, he calls the reader a bitch once, he’s fucking nasty, this is straight porn- v little plot, i feel like i need to go to confession, p in v sex, oral ( f receiving ), fingering, squirting, dirty talk (he really can’t keep his mouth shut), choking, spitting, multiple orgasms, creampie (have safe sex), there's probably more- read at your own risk, was proof read but I am dyslexic.

Previous chapters: Taste Test: 1/3 , Oral Fixation: 2/3

The third time you met him- he came to your place.

You were doing chores around your place- candles were lit, Spotify was playing loudly on the large living room TV rotating through your favorite songs, and even cookies were baking in the oven!

It was two days after your run in with Nam-Gyu at the club. All you could think about was him. The new energy that his interactions gave you was a welcomed motivation. However, to say you were a little nervous he wouldn’t text you was an understatement, you were terrified.

You eased your worries about his absence when you thought about how the last time he was with you- he had to leave with a drug deal gone awry- and you’re familiar enough with the scene to know how time consuming and stressful dealing with that could be.

Still, the absence of him hit you more than you thought it would. He truly had you wrapped around his finger.

To rid yourself of the thoughts, you continued to busy yourself with cleaning your apartment. Soon the oven chimed off a ‘ding’ letting you know the cookies were done. You clapped to yourself, walking to the oven, grabbing the pot holders and pulling the tray out of the oven.

While they cooled you poured yourself a drink, leaning on the counter and looking at your clean place with a sense of accomplishment. You took a sip from the cup and began to think of what else needed to be done.

You pushed yourself back off from the counter, figuring you could get some laundry done. Before you could take a step your phone pinged. Figuring it was just an app notification or one of your friends, you make your way over to your phone with no abnormal excitement.

But when grabbed your phone of the kitchen island and the screen turned on, your heart caught in your throat

‘How’s my pretty girl doing?’

The text came from an unknown number. It blared on your locked home screen as you reread it over and over, your heart rate spiking- you could feel your heart beat in your chest.

‘How’s my pretty girl doing?’ It was like he already claimed you as his, whether you liked it or not.

You unlocked your phone with shaky, excited hands, opening the message, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you try to think about what to say.

You begin to type when three floating dots pop up, signaling he’s typing again.

‘I’m sorry for not texting you sooner. You really were all I was thinking about. Texted you as soon as I could.’

‘Let me make it up to you? I want to see you’

The texts come in one after the other, in rapid succession. It was if he knew you had your phone open to his messages- just watching his texts come through.

‘You gonna roll for me? Make it worth my time?’ You text back with a small laugh to yourself. You know he’s worth your time- well worth it. But you gotta give him some hell for making you wait so long to hear from him! You see the three dots pop up on your phone screen, you bite your lip as you watch him begin to type.

‘Of course, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t? I even got some new shit I can bring, all for you.’

You smile at your phone, leaning on your kitchen counter and re-reading his message over and over. You finally begin typing to respond, ‘Now you’re speaking my language, come over at 7?’ , you hit send.

‘Sounds like a plan, I’ll be there.’

You don’t even bother texting him your address, remembering at the club how he told you he already found your address. The idea of him seemingly stalking you should have set you off, but here you are inviting that same handsome stalker over- and doing it excitedly.

You returned to your room to get more presentable. Fixing your hair, putting on the cute new lounge set you just got, and spraying some perfume- you excitedly got ready.

You walked back to the living room, settling in on the couch and turning on some random show to try and settle your excited nerves.

A couple hours passed and before you knew it, a knock resounded at your front door

You quickly stood up from the couch walking to the front door. Your heart was in your chest. This was the first time you and him would be alone. It was about time. The thought of it made your head spin.

You reached the door, hand moving to unlock the silver dead bold. With a resounding ‘click’ your hand grips the door knob and pulls the door open.

He stood there with a grin, one of his hands in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers.

Your breath catches in your throat- you mind reeling. The gesture, the flowers alone, was sweet. Already a large contrast to your flings with him. Hell, he fingered you in someone’s house and face fucked you in his office at a club- you guys weren’t exactly the most romantic pair.

But the fact they were your favorite? That can’t be a coincidence. His smile widens when he sees your expression. “You post an awful lot about your favorite flowers. Your friends get you some every year for your birthday, hard to miss in most pictures on your page.” He quips, stepping forward and running his fingers around your waist and wrapping his arm around your back.

His head tilts to the side as he looks you over. Yet again, he was taking it into his own hands to get to know you- stalking your socials to get to know little details about you. It was endearing in a way. You take the flowers with a wide smile. “You’re such a creep. Thank you.” You say with a giggle, standing up a bit taller to lean in and place a small kiss on his jaw.

You hear him take in a large breath, his hand pulling you into him and gripping your waist just the slightest bit harder when your lips touch his skin. It’s like he’s trying to restrain himself.

“Callin’ me a creep, yet you still let me cum down your throat. What’s that say about you, hm?” He says, dropping his head to begin pressing kisses down your neck and over your shoulder.

You laugh, his lips tickling you as you stumble back. You try to pull away, well ‘try’ is an overstatement. You feebly writhe against him, a joke of an attempt to get away from him to try and close your apartment door.

He laughs against your neck, his lips continuing to trace along your neck. His leg kicks behind him, shutting your door for you, his arm that’s not around your waist reaches behind him to lock the door.

He pulls away finally, his head tilting back upright to look at you. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing along your bottom lip. “‘M sorry for keeping you waiting.” He says in a low voice, nearly a whisper as he looks you over.

You hum, smiling and lifting a hand up to hold his cheek, thumb rubbing a circle along his skin as you tilt your head like you’re thinking. “I suppose I can forgive you…” you say with a pout that immediately turns into a laugh.

He watches as you laugh and he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and your laugh is the most enchanting sound he’d ever hear. He can’t help but to pull you closer to him by your waist, your chest pressing against his as he catches your lips in a kiss.

It catches you by surprise, a sound like a small squeak comes out into the kiss. But when the feeling of his lips is finally on yours once again, you simply melt into him. Your legs feel like you go limp, his arm around your back only thing keeping you up as your lips move against his. The kiss is surprisingly soft and meticulous like he’s been without the feeling of your lips for too long. And to him he has.

As he pulls away, his hand dances along your spine.

You guys stand there for a moment, just staring at each other. You break the silence, realizing the hand that holds the large bouquet of your favorite flowers is causing your hand to ache as it’s held up in the air. “I gotta find a vase for these.” You say, nodding your head over to the flowers in your hand. He nods, “I suppose you’re right.” He says with a chuckle, placing another quick kiss against your lips before releasing you.

You walk over into your kitchen, leaning on the counter and reaching up to pull open a cabinet. Grabbing a vase and turning around to the kitchen island where the sink was beginning to fill the vase up with water.

He leans over the opposite side of the kitchen island just watching your every move. As you begin to unwrap the flowers he got you, grabbing a pair of scissors to cut the stems, you look up at him. “So did you bring your ‘new shit’?” You tease, referring to his texts.

He laughs nodding and reaching one hand back into his back pocket, pulling out a heady bag of weed and placing it on the counter and shrugging. “Your offering ma’am.” He says with a wink. It has you giggling. You continue to cut the stems, squinting your eyes and looking at the bag skeptically with a smile “hmm…I’ll allow it.” You say in a fake prissy tone that has him laughing along with you.

You finish cutting the flowers, tossing the cut stems in the trash nearby and gathering the gorgeous blooms. you place the flowers in the vase. You step back and just stare at them, they’re your favorite yes- but it looks like each flower is pristine, in full bloom and the most vibrant it can be, like the hand picked each one out to create the best bouquet.

“Thank you again, they’re gorgeous…” You say with a smile, looking back over to him. You find him staring at you with his chin resting against his palm, elbow resting on the countertop. He’s looking at you with such a genuine, enamored gaze. “Of course, sweetheart. Someone like you deserves only the best.” He says with a wink.

You move around the counter next to him, mirroring how he leans over the counter. Your hands reach to the bag of weed on the counter and drag it towards you. You twirl it in your hands then turn to him. “So you gonna make good of your other promise and roll f’me?” You say, leaning closer to him, your noses practically touching. “You got it princess.” He mumbles, placing slow kiss on your lips. “Lead the way.” He says pulling away, a hand reaching back to slap your ass.

You giggle, spinning around to begin to lead him down the hall to your bedroom.

So there you found yourselves, in your room, laid out on your bed. He’s behind you, legs spread open leaving a perfect space for you to be. You’re leaned back between his legs, back against his chest, your legs crossed- holding up the rolling tray that’s covered in broken down weed.

His arms are around you, chin resting on your shoulder. His hands work to fill in the wrap with the weed. His fingers working a practice that has you mesmerized. The silver rings adorning his fingers reflect the distorted colors of the TV show you guys had playing. The veins of his hand pop out and you watch the way they move and flex with every movement he does.

From out of the corner of his eyes he sees you’re no longer watching the show, your eyes are locked on his hands as he begins to roll up the blunt.

You feel him chuckle, bringing you out of your trance. “You’re not even paying attention to the show.” He says before placing a quick kiss on your jaw. You giggle turning your head to place a proper kiss on his lips with a smile.

“‘M sorry, you have nice hands and they look really good rolling.” You say pulling away and looking down to watch him begin to roll up the blunt. He laughs, following your gaze.

He holds it up to you, the small section of the wrap not rolled sticks up out of the blunt. “Do the honors..” he says, nodding to the blunt. You look to him and smile, knowing exactly what he wants you to do. Your tongue darts out of your lips to run against the expanse of the wrap that was sticking up, wetting it.

As you do it you can feel his eyes on you, watching your mouth and tongue closely. He hums in approval as you finish, folding the flap over and sealing the blunt.

He takes the lighter from off of the rolling tray, flicking it and dragging the tip of the flame over the blunt, drying the part you licked and sealing it.

He transfers the blunt to one hand, the other wraps itself around you, caging you into him. He adjusts himself, leaning back more, guiding you with him to lay back on his chest. As he does it you can feel his cock drag against your back. You feel filthy about it, you can tell he’s not even hard, and all you’re thinking about is his dick against your back.

Your thoughts are cut short when you slowly start to feel the swelling of the start of an erection in his jeans. You sigh with a soft laugh thankful you’re not the only one who’s so worked up.

He nuzzles his cheek against your hair as his leans his arms forward more, lighting the blunt. You relax into him, he’s so warm, you think. Your eyes flick back to the TV, watching whatever was going on in the show as he takes the first hit.

The blunt is soon put infront of your lips, all you have to do is pick your head up the slightest bit. You wrap your lips around the blunt and inhale, leaning back on his chest as you blow the smoke upwards.

His hand that doesn’t hold the blunt moves under your shirt, his fingertips dancing along your the skin of your stomach in light motions.

He passes it back to you again, you repeat the same motions and take a slow inhale, exhaling the smoke in a slow plume of smoke. You can feel your body becoming lighter, a warmth rushing over your insides as your eyelids become heavy. “You really did bring the good shit.” You say with a laugh, your eyes rolling back to look at him behind you.

“I don’t lie about my product.” He says taking a hit himself, his hand traveling farther up your shirt and resting just under your bra, his thumb rubbing circles on the center of your sternum. You nod, can’t argue with that. “Glad you like it.” He adds, blowing out the smoke then placing a kiss on the top of your head.

His hips cant upwards, dragging his hardening cock along your back, you can’t help but to whine and try to grind your hips back onto him. His hand resting under your bra moves down your stomach and down your pubic bone. His fingers dance along your inner thighs as he places the blunt back in front of your face.

You take your hit, holding it in for a bit before releasing your breath. His hands inch inwards, his fingers dancing along your clothed cunt, ghosting over you in feather light touches that begins to make a bubbling warmth in your build in your lower stomach.

You bite your lip, holding in a moan as you jerk your hips into his touch. His palm rests on your pubic bone as his fingers rub up and down your pussy over the fabric of your clothes.

“Take your pants off, pretty.” He hums, hitting the blunt, watching as you quickly grip the waist band of your pants, lift your hips and pull them down and off your legs, throwing them to the side. You go to do the same thing with your panties when he stops you. “I didn’t say take those off.” He scolds. You whimper and nod, your bottom lip catching in your teeth as you settle back down.

His eyes train onto your panties. They’re lace with a cute little bow on the front. Similar to the ones you had on when he first met you. He smiles fondly at the memory, his hand returning to your lower stomach. His fingers dance along the lace top of your panties, gripping at the fabric and pulling up. It creates a delicious drag along your clit that has your head falling back against his chest.

He repeats the motion a couple times before letting the fabric go, his fingers moving further downwards to dance along your clit over your panties. He lets out a low laugh, feeling how wet your panties have already gotten, your arousal beginning to leak through the fabric. “Already so excited to see me…” he says.

You shiver, the way he says it you can tell he’s not talking to you- he’s talking to your pussy.

It has you whining and gyrating your hips against his hand. He slaps his hand against your cunt, each time his hand connects you jump.

You can’t take it, you quickly sit up, turning around on your knees to face fim, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a kiss. It’s a mess of tongue and teeth as he kisses you back, his tongue exploring your mouth with a determination that has you spinning.

As the kiss continues to get more heated you feel him guide you backwards by your hips, the lit blunt hanging loosely between the fingers of his left hand. He guides you up, allowing both of you to sit up on your knees. He still towers over you, having to bend his back to lean and continue the kiss. His hands are all over you in a frenzy, yours soon following.

As your mouths move together, your hands run up his shirt, lightly scratching at his abdomen. He sighs into the kiss you can feel his stomach tense under your touch. When you move your back down his stomach and to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it, he pulls back- placing the blunt in his mouth and tilting it down. His hands grip the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side of your room. He removes the blunt from his mouth and attaches his lips right back on yours

Your hands move along his bare chest and stomach, feeling all of him. The heat of his bare skin under your palms has you whining into the kiss. Soon he’s mimicking your motion, free hand crawling up your shirt to grope at your breasts over your bra.

This time you pull away, pulling your shirt over your head and reaching back to unhook your bra- attaching your lips right back on his in a rush. You can feel him chuckle into your mouth at your equal enthusiasm.

His hand returns to your chest, his hand splaying over the plush of your breast before kneading it. His fingers pinch at your nipple, pulling at it as he breaks away from the kiss. As he releases your nipple, he watches as your breast jiggles when it drops back into place.

His chest is heaving, his tongue wetting his lips as he looks you over. “You had no idea how bad I missed your lips…missed you.” He mumbles, his free hand not holding the still smoking blunt runs up your waist. It makes you shiver. “You could have come by sooner…” you pout.

He laughs, his hand coming up to cup your face “I know, I would if I could have. But I’m here now and you’re not getting rid of me.” You smile and lean into his hand, turning your face to kiss his palm.

As he watches you nuzzle into his palm, he lifts his other hand holding the blunt to his mouth and takes a long inhale. His hand on your face moves to the back of your neck, pulling you forward into an open mouth kiss, letting the smoke rain into your mouth. You inhale and melt into him, your hands finding purchase on his abdomen.

He pulls back from the kiss, smoke still swirling between your mouths when he feels your hands trail down his stomach and begin to work at the button of his pants. His hand that doesn’t hold the blunt catches your wrists. The size difference has you whimpering. His one hand is large enough to encase both your wrists, stopping you from getting what you wanted.

“As much as I love the way your mouth feels around my cock, tonight’s all about you sweet girl.” He hums, pushing you by the wrists so you sit back up on your knees, giving him enough space to mirror your position.

He raises from his sitting position on the bed to sitting on his knees, pulling you back forward by your wrists. Your breasts press against his chest, his hand still holding your wrists together and down in between the two of you. He brings his other hand up to his mouth, taking a long drag from the blunt.

In the low light of your room the cherry of the blunt burns a vibrant red-orange hue, lighting up his face in an upward light. He’s so handsome it’s downright sickening. You can’t help but stare. His eyes never stray from yours as he moves his hand back down to his side. He blows the smoke out. His eyes are hooded, tinged red and hazy.

He guides your hands up in front of his face, still held by his one hand. He places a gentle kiss on each of your palms before releasing your hands hand passing the blunt back to you.

You take the blunt- frozen. Your mouth hung open. “Hit it.” He says nodding to the blunt. When you don’t move he returns his hand to your one wrist and guides your own hand to your mouth. You finally hit the blunt, inhaling. “There you go…” he hums with a grin.

When you begin to blow out the smoke his hands grab your waist and spin you around, throwing you down onto your bed- head sinking into the plush pillows. You let out a squeak of surprise, your hand that holds the blunt lying limply out to your side, wrist quirked up so the lit end wouldn’t touch any of the fabric on your bed. He’s hovering over you, between your legs with a smirk.

He pulls back, sitting back on his heels, removing a black hair tie that’s around his wrist. In a quick moment, in motions that are practiced, his hair is put up in a small pony tail. It’s half up and half down, small hairs falling out around his face that refused to stay up in the elastic.

It was so fucking hot.

You must have been staring, mouth agape, because he laughs. He leans back down, hand cupping your face, holding your cheek to make you look at him. “That hot to you?” He says with a grin. You don’t answer, just looking at him with a doe eyed look that has his cock growing even more.

His hand taps your cheek a couple times, bringing you back out of your daze. “C’mon you’re a big girl, use your words.” He taunts, but you know it’s also an order as he returns his hand to cup your face and give your face a harsh squeeze.

“F-fuck yes it is…” you say with a smile, a breathless laugh and a nod, reaching up to his face and pulling him down to you. You kiss him with a fury, one that takes him off guard for a split second before he’s kissing you back with just as much fever. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, your mouth falling open in response. He sucks on your tongue in a dexterous manner. It has you whining into his mouth and arching your back off the bed, pressing your chest into him.

He laughs into the kiss, pulling away to begin leaving opened mouth kisses along your neck. His teeth leaving marks that blossom along your skin in his wake. He kisses down your chest, his mouth sucking purple bruises on the swell of one of your breasts while his hand reaches up to envelope the other one in his girl.

You’re helpless under him, a panting mess the feeling of his tongue along your skin only leaves your panties to become even wetter, beginning to stick to your cunt, the fabric several shades darker that what it’s supposed to be.

His warm mouth engulfs your nipple, tongue circling around it in a methodical pattern, teeth grazing over it every so often. When he feels your hips begin to thrust into the air, a desperate attempt for your cunt to get any sort of simulation, his own hips thrust into the mattress of your bed, rubbing his stiff, clothed cock against the plush bedding.

His teeth pull your nipple, letting it go with a ‘pop’ as he begins to kiss down your stomach. He stops when he gets to the top of your panties, pulling away to sit up and look at you.

He takes all of you in, his eyes moving over you slowly, looking over each one of the red bite marks and blooming purple bruises that litter your skin. His hands run up your waist, growling at how small you look under his grasp. His hands squeeze your waist as he speaks, “I’ve been thinking about the taste of your pussy since that time at the house party….” He says, his eyes still tracing over your body.

You can’t help but bite your lip at his words, your chest heaving with a large breath. “You know how fucking hard I had to beat my dick after I cleaned your cum off my fingers just to think straight again?” He admits through a hissing tone, his hands squeezing your waist hard enough to make you whine before letting up.

You look up at him with pleading eyes, your cunt practically making a pool on the sheets below you, coating your inner thighs in a shining mess. You open your mouth to respond but he cuts you off, “and I just know…” he drawls on, his hands returning down to your hips, gripping your panties, pulling the fabric away from your flesh, “that a cute thing like you has a perfect pussy to match.” He finishes, snapping the elastic back against your skin. It makes you jump and arch into him.

He laughs at your reaction, running his hands over the stinging skin to soothe it before he grips the fabric once again. This time, he pulls it down, you lift your hips off the bed to help him pull the lace down and over your ass. He laughs, watching as strings of your arousal that are connecting your cunt to your panties eventually snap.

When he pulls the cloth fully off of you he slides his hands up your thighs, slowly pushing them open, putting you on display for him.

He sucks in a breath and lets out a low, feral sounding growl, as he looks at your bare cunt for the first time. “Ohhh….” He coos, his hands massaging your thighs, “and I was right…look at you…” he hums, his eyes flicking up to look at your face. When he sees you’re not looking at him, but instead bashfully looking to the side, he leans forward, bringing one of his hands from your thigh up to face, “Look at me.” He demands, turning your head forward so you were forced to look at him, “There you are sweet girl…” he says when you meet his eyes. “Want you to watch.” He adds leaning in and placing a slow kiss on your lips.

You obey, watching him sink down and begin trailing soft kisses from your navel, down your stomach, down your pubic bone then placing one last kiss on your clit.

When his hands adjusted to wrap around your thighs and he licked his lips, getting his first taste of you tonight, he was in heaven. He’s on your pussy immediately, his tongue working over the expanse of your pussy with no real set motion- he was just tasting you.

He was eating you like a man starved, like the arousal you secreted was the water he needed to live. Like a man drunk on the finest, most expensive liquor, he was slurping you into his mouth with a newfound desire.

When his tongue enveloped your clit in a long flat stripe, you cry out for him, your knuckles turning white from the grip you had on your sheets. He begins to suck your clit in and out of his mouth, any time it passes the soft, plushness of his lips, his tongue was on it in languid flicks. It’s all so much, it has your body twitching with pleasure, your body trying to move back on the bed, like you’re trying to run from the pleasure he’s giving you.

“None of that.” He growls, pulling you back to him by your hips. “No running away.” He says, emphasizing his words by licking a wide stripe up your pussy. “I’ve waited too long to taste your fucking cunt, and I’m going to take my time with you.” He says, looking up at you from between your thighs. His eyes are shadowed by his lashes but the hungry glint in his eyes is impossible to miss. His large hands trail upward to the crease of your thighs, pushing them open.

He dives back in, like a man starved. His tongue circles your clit in slow movements. The slurping sounds he’s making is straight up pornographic. He’s dragging it out in an almost sadistic slowness, twisting his tongue in skilled figure eight motions along your clit. He pulls back, sucking your clit into his mouth before releasing it with an obscene ‘pop’ of his mouth. The motion has your back arching up like a cat, your hips desperately chasing his mouth.

He pushes you back down, his hands gripping at your thighs, leaving crescent shaped imprints where his fingernails dug into your flesh. “You’re wasting the blunt.” He says, a wicked grin on his face. You don’t even register what he’s saying, your eyes closed and your head thrown back. But the feeling of his heavenly tongue does not return, he’s not resuming.

You open your eyes and look down at him. He’s looking up at you like a snake ready to have its meal. “The blunt. You’re wasting it.” He repeats, nodding over to the blunt that hangs limply in your hand.

Oh the blunt. You completely forgot about it with the way his tongue was working against you. “I-“ your voice cracks, it’s shameful and you can do nothing to hide it. “I-It’s a little hard to hit it…” you manage to get out. He shrugs, resting his chin on your tummy. “And you’re wasting it.” He says simply, his grin widening.

You suck in a shuddering breath, bending your arm and bringing the blunt to your lips. He nods slowly. You wrap your lips around the blunt and begin to inhale.

His hands move under your legs, lifting your hips the slightest bit so he can wrap his hands around the tops of your plush thighs, yanking you down the bed and back onto his mouth. He resumes, his mouth enveloping your pussy in a shameless manner. You whine around the blunt, it’s a muffled sound that has him chuckling against you. The vibrations of his laugh only add to the sensations causing you to grind your hips onto his tongue.

He hums against you, watching you carefully as you exhale the smoke, your head falling backwards against the pillows. Your moans ring out through your bedroom, only making him more excited.

Your moans to him are like an instant drug rush, like a violent high that crashes into him- causing him to pull you into his tongue. And when his tongue pushes its way into your velvety walls, you cry out a wanton sound that has him humping your mattress.

You knew the drill- not wanting him to stop you bring your shakey hand to your mouth and take another drag of the blunt. The weed only causing the feeling of his tongue to become even more formidable.

Humming around your clit in approval, his tongue worked around you, lowering itself to your entrance and twisting around it teasingly. He tried to restrain himself, he really did, but the way you squeezed around the tip of his tongue had him diving straight into your cunt. You tasted like the sweetest honey- squeezing around his tongue in pulsing movements, dripping more and more of your essence onto his wet muscle. He moans into your pussy. His eyes rolling back into his head as he swears your cunt is sucking his tongue in, never wanting to let go.

You whine as he pulls away. Your pussy exposed to the cold air of the room. He stares down at your cunt, his mouth and chin glistening with your arousal.

His hands release his grip on your thighs, pulling themselves from under you and splaying themselves on your inner thighs. One of his hands removes itself from your thigh, rubbing along the entirety of your cunt. He’s truly just playing with you, watching as sticky webs of your wetness cling to his fingers and the lips of your pussy. Every movement making a raunchy squelching sound. And all you can do is just moan and writhe under him.

And his eyes are still trained on your cunt. His head turning and lowering, resting his cheek on your thigh, hot breath fanning against your pussy as he simply admires how wet you are. “Such a pretty pussy…” he mumbles, more to himself than you.

His thumbs rub along your labia, spreading the mess of your own arousal and his spit. You moan out suddenly when his thumbs spread you open. It’s shameful, and debauched. “So wet f’me, huh?” He says his eyes flicking back up to you. His hand lifting from you and spreading his ringed fingers, showing how your wetness webs between his fingers. You nod frantically, your hips bucking up into the air desperate for more simulation.

His eyes flick back down to your cunt, hands retuning to their spot, spreading you wide open for him. Watching as your pussy helplessly clenches around nothing, pupils dilating even more when he watches a thick trail of your wetness drip out of you. Thumbs still keeping your thighs back and cunt spread open, he dives back in, his tongue collecting the creamy bead of arousal on his tongue before licking up to your clit with a loud slurp. You cry out, your moans like a song to him.

He pulls back, making a show of swallowing. You’re embarrassed, being so spread out like this. His thumbs are massaging in and out of your opening, spreading you even more before removing themselves, repeating the motion over and over. Your thighs fight against his hands. He immediately lifts himself up more, pushing your legs back down in a harsh movement.

“You better fuckin’ keep your legs open.” He warns. You bite your lip and nod, your body twitching under his hold, but you keep your legs open. His hand slide back to your inner thighs, thumbs resuming their prior placement of spreading your cunt wide open for him. Your dripping hole and puffy clit on full display.

You watch as he sucks his teeth, purses his lips and spits directly on your cunt. You can’t help but let out an obscene whine, eyes rolling in to the back of your head. He’s back on your pussy in an instant, tongue moving around the entrance of your cunt before pushing back into your gummy walls.

You scream out in pleasure, your hands reaching down to grip at his scalp. When your fingernails scratch at his skin, pulling at his hair he moans into you, moving with more vigor.

He settles back intro the bed, arms going back under your thighs and wrapping his hands around them, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth. He shakes his head in your cunt pulling back with his tongue lolled out of his mouth for breath. “Taste so fucking good…” he murmurs against your pussy, licking a stripe up the entirety of you for emphasis, pulling back again “Could eat you all fuckin’ day…”, he says his fingers reaching across your pubic bone and circling his fingers against your clit.

You cry out and twitch against his hand, you wanted to…no, needed to cum. You pull at his hair, trying to bring his mouth back onto your pussy but he resists. His eyes move from watching your pussy drip for him to watching your flushed face. “You know better than that…” he says in a low warning, the look on his face alone is enough to remind you of his earlier remarks.

Use your words

“Please N-Nam-Gyu”, you stutter out, “I need to cum. Please, your m-mouth, your f-fingers, any-Oh! Fuck!”you’re cut of when he replaces his still fingers with his mouth, his lips wrapping around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud in soft, fast motions. Your head falls back onto the pillows, your chest heaving with heavy, panting breaths.

The hand that was just playing with your clit slides off your thigh, his leaving a wet trail of your arousal around the flesh as he pulls his hand back. His fingers circle your entrance, two digits slip in easily. He moans against your clit as he feels the sweet, warm, grip of your cunt around his fingers. “So tight…” He murmurs against your clit.

His fingers work expertly, thrusting into you and curling up, the motion making lewd squelching sounds every time he was knuckles deep inside of you. His tongue never let up, switching between licking at your clit and sucking it into his mouth. “Squeezing’ my fingers so hard…” he words muffled by your cunt, “You gonna even be able to take my cock?” He mocks, scissoring his fingers inside you for emphasis. It has you moaning in pitch and tone that you didn’t even think you were capable of emitting.

His fingers switch back to the repetitive curling motion that has you seeing stars. When his fingers curl up in just the right way, you keen over, curling up and pressing his face into your cunt with a loud squeal “oh fuck! Right there!” You cry out, flopping back down onto the bed breathlessly.

He hums into your pussy, fingers never moving from where you needed them most. With every stroke of that soft spongy spot inside of you, you’re coming closer to your orgasm.

You feel like you can’t even think straight, your vision is hazy. All you can do is grind down onto his fingers and tongue. “You gonna cum on my tongue?” He says, looking up at you, his lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “I can feel your squeezing my fingers. Gonna make a mess f’me?” He speaks against your cunt. You nod frantically, hips jerking violently against his tongue. “S-shit…” you cry through clenched teeth, it felt so fucking good, you bite your lip and manage to moan out a “Uh-huh,” as you feel yourself about to cum.

His pace speeds up, it’s a violent onslaught of pleasure that has you orgasm wracking through your body violently. You can hear your cum gush out of you, a pornographic, sloshing sound. He chuckles against you, quickly removing his fingers and replacing them with his mouth, his tongue working you through your orgasm, drinking up every last drop of your cum that gushes out of you.

You writhe against his face, twitching against the bed, your breath coming out in choked gasps. You have pull his head away by his hair to get him to stop. When you look down you whine, the view just has you ready to cum again right then.

His head is held up by your hands entangled in his dark hair, the ponytail he put his hair in was disheveled, his tongue was lolled out of his mouth, like he was trying to return to begging tongue deep in your pussy, his saliva and your cum dripping off the tip of his tongue and pooling in a sinful puddle on your pubic bone. He grins, his eyes hooded and pupils blown.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” He coos, his breath tickling your pussy causing you to twitch again. You nod, brushing his hair that has fallen out of the elastic tie, out of his face. “Mhm…felt so fuckin’ good.” You praise him. He smiles, his lips, chin, nose, and even his neck are coated in your cum.

He sits up, walking his hands up the bed on each side of you until he’s hovering over your face. “Want you to taste yourself.” He says as he lowers his face, kissing you without giving you time to respond. You moan into the kiss, tasting yourself own cum on his lips. Your hands come to cradle each side of his face, pulling I’m impossibly closer to you, your mouth opening to accept his tongue excitedly.

He adjusts himself so he’s back on his knees, his hands pulling your hips up onto his. Your back is lifted partially off the bed. He’s hunched over to continue kissing you, his jean clad erection beginning to grind into your pussy.

He continues his movements, moaning into your mouth. In his head he scolds himself, it’s shameful how much dry humping is effecting him. He swears he could cum in his pants then and there as he can feel the wetness of your pussy soak not only through his jeans but his boxers the longer he continues the slow grind of his hips into you.

He has to pull away, pulling away from you to stand up off the bed and rid himself of his pants and boxers. He’s back on the bed in an instant, slotting himself exactly where he just was. He pushes your thighs back, putting you on perfect display for him.

His cock rests heavy against your cunt. He draws his hips back, his hand holding the base of his dick as he slaps it once, twice, three times against your pussy. Each time you jump, your bottom lip becoming caught between your teeth as you whine, wanting more of him.

He’s doesn’t grant you that solace though instead he runs his cock through your folds, his fat cock-head bumping against your puffy clit. “You were squeezing the life out of my two fingers…” he muses, watching the way his cock splits your pussy lips open everytime he thrusts his hips forward. “It will be a miracle if my cock can fit inside you..” he hums with a condescending tone, the head of his dick just barely pressing into you before pulling back and resuming to rub against you.

You let out a soft moan , not being able to hold it in any more. “Hmm…” he moans “You sound so cute.” He praises, his eyes never straining from where you to meet. “I can take it. I will.” You say desperate, sitting up to look down to see his view. And when you do, you let out a wanton moan that has cock jumping.

“Yeah you will..” He lets out in a low rasp as he begins to push his cock into you. It’s a stretch that has you arching your back off the bed like a cat. When the fat head of his cock sinks all the way into you, you both let out a loud, blissful sigh.

Not even half way in and your pussy is milking his dick for all it’s worth. He shudders, beginning to think he might not even fit inside you if you’re squeezing him this hard. “Sweetheart…” he slurs, his eyes closed and eyebrows screwed together in concentration. “Ya’ gotta relax…you’re choking my dick.” He says in a strangled voice, sinking in just a bit more.

His eyes open to look down at where he’s sinking into your weeping pussy. His hand splaying on top of your pubic bone, his thumb reaching down to rub circles on your clit. A moan is forced out of you at the sensation, your cunt relaxing, causing him to slip in half way. Your moans come out and echo each other. Feeling half his cock being surrounded by your spasming tightness has him letting out a choked wine and falling over you, his hand catching himself, falling next to his head.

“You are so fucking tight.” He hisses, dropping down onto his elbow so he can lower his head to the crook of your neck. You can hear his labored breath tenfold now, his nose right under your ear. He draws his hips back, letting out a low moan as he feels how you squeeze around him- like your cunt is trying to suck him back in. He thrusts his hips back forward, sinking further into you.

You writhe against him, whining a pathetic mix of his name and pleading for him to just fuck you. When your hands remove themselves from gripping the sheets and reach up to wrap around his back, nails digging into his shoulders and your legs wrap around him, heels digging into his lower back- he drives his hips back once more, roughly thrusting his hips forward and finally bullying his cock balls deep into your cunt.

You let out a choked moan of his nails dragging down his back. You can hear him moan a low “Fuuuuckkk.” Before grinding his pelvis into your ass, basking in the feeling of being fully inside you.

You can’t help but pant out sharp rapid breaths, you feel so full. “Oh my god…” you whine out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull when he continues the slow grind of his hips. “Y-you’re s-so fucking b-big.” You sob out. He kisses your neck a few times before sitting back up. He watches how your lips are parted, eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving like it’s too much- but you still take it.

“I know, princess…I know..” he says with almost a chuckle at how you struggle to take him but you’re so set on doing so. He leans down to kiss you, you feebly kiss back as best you can even when you can’t stop moaning. He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting on yours as he draws his hips back and begins to set a brutal pace of hammering his cock into your cunt.

He keeps his forehead against yours, wanting to feel the way your breath jumps with each thrust. His bottom lip catches between his teeth when he feels your nails continue to rake down his back.

You manage to open your eyes for a brief second, the view above you is absolutely sinful. His hair has long since fallen out of the ponytail, the strands falling and framing his face and covering you in a shadow. The silver chain that hung around his neck dangled over you, swaying with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes dart to either side of you- to his arms that are planted on either side of your head. His biceps are large the muscles flexing. Tattoos litter his forearms and upper arms. You try to make a mental note to look at them later in more detail because you can hardly keep your eyes open- eventually losing the fight. Your eyes roll back as a loud moan falls from your lips as his cock continues to ruin your pussy.

He pushes himself up once more, leaning back to look down at your cunt. He growls under his breath when he sees the white ring of your arousal that is collecting at the base of his dick. He watches as he spears his thick dick into you. He thinks then that the sight of your cunt stretched open obscenely wide around his cock will forever be one of his favorite views.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you to meet every one of his harsh thrusts. It’s a force that has your bed creaking. You feel the warmth building in your lower abdomen, a white hot feeling expanding in the deepest parts of your cunt. Your moans only get louder and higher pitched, your hands reaching up to grope at your own tits.

When he sees this, his eyes “Nasty fuckin’ bitch…you’re close huh?” He says with a sadistic lilt to his voice. Hits one that has your eyebrows upturning into a desperate state, your head nodding, “Y-yes, fuck yes.” You whine out, your hips beginning to gyrate as he thrusts into you, never letting up.

He increases his pace. It’s a hot, sticky mess. You can hear it each time his balls slap against your ass. One hand removes itself from your hip, his fingers coming to play with your clit as he continues his brutal pace. He moans, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he feels you clench even harder around him.

“You gonna make a mess on my cock?” He asks, turning his head back down to look at you and your frantic nod. He watches as you try to speak but are cut off pathetically by your whines. “Do it, come on, pretty girl. Wanna feel you cum.” He says, his fingers working faster on your clit.

It doesn’t take long before you snap, letting out a high pitched, choked scream. You cum, and you cum hard. “Fuck! M’cumming….holy fuck!” You nearly screech, your back arching high off the bed, hips pushing down into him like you could never have him deep enough. He lets out a strangled moan as he feels you spasm around him, rocking his cock into you to allow you to ride out your orgasm.

When you come back to earth, he’s kissing around your face. “You okay? Did I break you?” He says, kissing the corner of your mouth. You giggle and reach up to hold his face, turning him to kiss you properly. “M’okay…was s’good.” You slur against his lips, still in the blissful aftermath of your orgasm.

He laughs “Well that’s good…” he says, it sounds like he’s going to say more but he doesn’t. He hums, pulling his still hard cock out of you. You shut your eyes and wince as he does, the emptiness feeling odd. When you open your eyes he’s sitting back on his heels, looking at his cock that was covered in your cum. You let out a soft whimper when you watch him begin to fist his dick, his wrist twisting up and down- using your cum and lube. “….because we’re not done.” He says, his eyes darting back to you, finally finishing his sentence.

Your eyes widen and you have no time to register before he’s manhandling you onto your hands and knees. His hand pressing your back into an arch.

He kneels behind you, his hands massaging the globes of your ass as he admires your position. One of his thumbs trail inwards, rubbing a light circle on your clit, it has you whining, jerking away from his touch. “‘M sensitive.” You plead, looking back at him over your shoulder.

“Oh I know..” he murmurs, his thumb repeating the motion, but this time you arch into his touch. He laughs, “but look, you’re still so needy…” he says tilting his head mockingly. He fists the base of his cock, rubbing it between your folds.

“All that time you spend dancing on me…grinding your ass back on me….” He lists, dragging his dick up and down, up and down, collecting your cum and arousal on the tip of his dick, “…what I was really thinking about was bending your over and fucking you from behind like the whore you are for me.” He growls, canting his hips forward in a brutal motions, sinking all the way into you.

You moan out into the pillow, eyes rolling back into your head. hands fisting the soft fabric, bunching it into your grip as if it will ground you.

His hips slam into you at a brutal pace, the backs of your thighs and his pelvis coated with your arousal. Every thrust makes a sticky sound and as he pulls back it connects your skin to his in white strings. You cry into the pillow, his cock stretching your pussy in ways you didn’t think was possible. “So fuckin messy..” he hisses, pulling you back on his cock to meet his thrusts.

He’s so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach “F-fuck…o-oh my god…” you whine out, hands reaching back, trying to push on his stomach, it was so much. He scoffs at your weak attempt, the scoff turning into a groan as he feels your nails rake down his stomach. Even though you try to push him away, your cunt pulls him back in a vice like grip.

You moan into the pillow, arching your back further as incoherent babbles of ‘more’ and ‘please’ fall from your lips, your hands still pushing him away in a conflicting battle. He was really fucking you stupid.

He grips both your wrists, crossing your arms behind your back and keeping them pinned there with one hand. He pulls you up, your shoulder blades touching his bare chest. His other hand comes up to grip your throat.

As he hooks his chin over your shoulder, he thrusts once more into your cunt, balls slapping against the plush of your ass before he stills, beginning to roll his hips in a slow, a deep grind. Your breath hitches, truly feeling all of him inside you.

“Look at that…..” He says his breath tickling your ear. “Taking all of me so well…” He says, squeezing your throat just a bit harder. “Every. Fuckin. Inch.” He growls out, punctuating every word with a thrust of his hips, bullying his cock even deeper into you.

“N-Nam-Gyu…h-holy shit.” You cry out, grinding your hips back into him, wanting more. He laughs at your desperation. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to fuck you….” He rasps. “Be inside this tight cunt..” He tightens his grip on your throat, just enough to cut off a bit of air.

You clench around him, the feeling cutting off his words. He falters, pulling you into him with a whine of his own. “Fucking Christ, you’re gonna kill me pretty girl…” he says, his lips attacking your neck, his hips resuming their movement.

He fucks up into you, your cunt making wet squelching sounds with each thrust. You can feel him moan and pant against your neck as his lips kiss along your jugular. His hand releases your neck and the other one, your wrists. His hands come up under your arms to run up your stomach and to your breasts.

His nose runs along your neck as he continues to fuck you. Every breath he takes, every groan that falls from his lips is right next to your ear. His hair that falls from the small ponytail tickles your shoulders. “I can feel you creamin’ all over me….so fucking wet.” He growls, his hands gripping at your tits, massaging the flesh as he continues to ruin your cunt.

It was all so, so, so much. It felt overwhelmingly good and his filthy praises only helped to make it so much better. Choked out whines and moans fall from your lips, you’re sure you’re drooling too. “All f’me huh?” He asks. You can’t even respond as his cock keeps hitting the soft spongy spot inside of your cunt that has you seeing stars.

He laughs at the lack of your response, his hands dropping your breasts and pushing you back down into the pillows by your waist. One of his hands immediately finds itself running up the back of your neck and entangling itself into a tight fist in your hair- shoving your face into the pillows as he slams his cock into you. “Awh c‘mon now…” he mocks, “I’ve hardly started and you’re already fucked stupid.” He says, his eyes trained on the way you throw your ass back to his pelvis in time with his thrusts.

He suddenly pulls out, one hand still in your hair- holding to cheek to the pillow, the other massaging the flesh of your ass. You whine at the loss of feeling, your cunt spasming around nothing desperately. “W-what…p-please!” You cry out, trying your best to turn to look at him.

He pouts, but it just as quickly turns into a wicked grin. “Thought I broke ya sweetheart. You couldn’t even answer me…not sure you can take it…” He teased, it’s evil, downright sadistic.

He removes his hand from your hair, sitting back on his heels. Both his hands are on your ass, squeezing and releasing the plush flesh before spreading you open to get a perfect view of your cunt. Red, puffy, and messy with arousal it’s a sight that makes his cock twitch.

“N-no! I can take it I swear!” You plead looking over your shoulder. You watch as he licks his lips while looking at your pussy then divert his gaze up to your face. “Then answer me.” He says demanding his answer.

Your lips part to answer but you’re cut off by his thumbs rubbing over the sides of your pussy, stopping at your clit to rub small circles, a moan coming out in place of an answer. “I guess I have to repeat myself…” he muses with a chuckle, “You’re this wet all for me, hm?” He repeats.

“Yes! All for you! F-fuck, s’all for you.” You whine, your hips pushing back into his hands. He laughs to himself, spreading your cunt wider, muttering an “I know.”, his smirk audible, before dipping his head lower and attaching his mouth to your cunt, tongue diving into your warm walls before removing itself to play with your clit.

Before you can even push your hips back he sits up, running one of his hands up the curve of your ass before resting on your hip. The other holds the base of his cock, running his weeping head along your pussy.

You arch your back further, trying to push yourself back into him. He sinks into you , but only a few inches before pulling out, repeating the motion a couple times as he watches your cunt hold the shape of his cock, stretched open, before clenching around nothing. “You want it so bad, huh?” He pouts in a condescending tone and you nod your head, whining each time his tip enters you, stretching you before pulling out.

“Please! Please! Oh my god, I need it.” You plead as he slowly sinks even more of his cock into you. It’s a slow pace, one that has you convulsing and mewling.

“I’ve dreamt of being in this sweet fucking cunt since I saw you….I’m going to make sure you feel every inch…” he says sinking into your weeping pussy just a bit more, “every vein,” he says pushing in even deeper, “going to ruin your cunt for anyone else who even thinks to try and get with you.” He growls out, sinking balls deep into you finally.

You grip the pillows, you’re sure you probably ripped the fabric. You cry out a wanton moan feeling so entirely full. His thrusts are brutal and he’s relentless.

When his hand reaches around and begins to play with your clit you can’t help but to desperately throw your hips back in time with his thrust. His other hand removes itself from your hip. “Go on now…” he urges, watching how you keep up the movements he ceased, fucking yourself back on to him “That’s it….fuck!” He growls out, watching each time your ass connects with his pelvis.

You can feel yourself getting closer to your third orgasm of the night and the feeling is overwhelming. You keep crying out, your hips moving back on his in sloppy, jittery movements. You wanted to cum again so bad but you just couldn’t without him brutally thrusting into your cunt.

He seems to realize this and he chuckles darkly, he replaces his one hand on your hip, the other dancing along your clit in patterns that have your body jerking against him. “Wanna cum so bad don’t you…” he coos, leaning over you, his hips beginning to rock softly into you.

You cry out, nodding into the pillows. “Poor thing….”, he chides, “can’t do it without me helping you, huh?” He says, his breath fanning over the back of your neck, lips dancing along the shell of your ear.

“P-please.” You whimpered out, trying to turn your neck to look at him. He smiles, your begging only spurring him on to increase the force of his thrusts. They become hard and slow, dragging the length of his cock slowly out of your cunt with a moan of his own. “F-fuck…please! N-nam-Guy, p-please!” You cry out.

That seems to do the trick. The wanton plan of your name has him groaning and sitting back up from hovering over you. His hips drive into you at a force that has you surging forward and your eyes rolling back.

You can hear the filthy squelching sound of your pussy each time he bullies his cock into your tight entrance. His fingers that were on your clit messily dragging your arousal around. “Come on princess. I can feel you squeezing me, need to feel you cum again.” He growls through gritted teeth.

All you can do is nod and cry, your orgasm creeping up over you in a large tidal wave that you have no hope of fighting off. When his cock starts to hammer the spot inside you that has you choking out a cry of his name, his fingers rapidly drawing circles on your clit, you break.

You cum with a loud moan of his name, your cunt spasming around him so tightly that he is hurled towards his own orgasm without warning. He lets out a gasping moan of your name, driving his hips into yours with one final thrust and cumming deep inside you.

The force of your own orgasm has you shaking around him, clear liquid evidence of your orgasm is forced out of you, coating his cock and pelvis with your cum.

He lets our strangled breaths as you milk his cock for everything he had, his hips rolling into yours softly as you both ride out your highs.

You feel so good but so weak, you’re sure you would have collapsed onto the bed in a boneless heap if it wasn’t for his arm around your midsection keeping you up.

You sigh as you feel him lean down and place kisses up your spine and up the back of your neck. “Did so good f’me.” He mumbles breathlessly against the back of your ear. “Mhm..” you whine in response, shivering against him.

He slowly pulls out of you, his arm staying wrapped under you to keep upright. You nearly sob at the feeling of his cock pulling out of your pussy and his cum that drips out of your red and puffy cunt.

You hear him hiss, watching it. He’s addicted. His fingers lift up, catching the trail of his cum drilling out of your cunt that threatens to drop to your sheets. Smearing it around your pussy, his fingers dipping in to your entrance to fuck the rest of it back into you with a few slow pumps.

You whine, so utterly overstimulated. He shushes you, “I know, sweet thing..”, he says pulling his fingers from you and leaning into place a kiss on your clit. “Couldn’t let you be so wasteful…” he murmurs against your pussy before pulling back.

He sits back up, leaning over you. “I’m gonna help you turn around okay?” He says softly, you nod weakly in response. He carefully pulls you onto your back and laying you down on the bed. You don’t even realize he departed from the bed and went to the bathroom for a towel before he’s wiping you both down, discarding the towel and returning back to the bed near to you.

“I really did a number on ya, huh?” He says, his elbow propped up on the pillow and his chin on his palm. You’re lying on your back, still haven’t moved from where he left you. You narrow your eyebrows and pout, a fake scowl. He laughs at your pathetic attempt at seeming mad, your laugh soon echoing his and it has his chest swelling with an electric warmth.

“Yeah ya did.” You admit shamelessly, turning on your side towards him looking up at him. He laughs, “Oh, I know.” He says proudly, making you laugh again. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you next to him.

He kisses your forehead, the arm around your shoulder pulling you closer. “I waited way too long for that.” You say, your head moving to rest on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat. It’s cute the way you hear it speed up when you nuzzle your head on his chest and begin to draw light patterns on his stomach.

He chuckles in response, “Well I suppose third times a charm.” He says, reaching down to pull the blankets that were piled up on the edge of your bed over the two of you- no way we’re both of yall getting up to get under the sheets and comforter.

You look up at him from your spot on his chest, a smile on your face. “And you’re staying the night? Oh what a gentleman.” You joke, cuddling closer into him. “Uh yeah…duh.” He says in a teasing tone, squeezing you into him, “and tomorrow, if you let me, I’d like to take you out to breakfast….or lunch…whenever we get up.” He says, with a small laugh, his arm now beginning to trace light shapes on your arm.

“Y-yeah I’d like that.” You say, you can’t even hide the smile in your words. “Good, now get some sleep. You’ll need it you’ll be sore in the morning.” You hit his chest at his words and he laughs, wrapping his other arm around you to cage you into him. He begins to pepper kisses along the top of your head and down to your face causing you to giggle. And he swears that’s your laugh is a sound he will never get tired of hearing.

Needless to say, you went to bed excited to see where you two went for food and what the future held for this odd partnership that was, very thankfully, catapulted into your life.

Thank you guys for all the support during this series. It is unbelievable how much love this got! I'm so excited to continue writing! I have a lot of ideas and things in the works and am so so so excited to share them with you all!!! my inbox is open for requests for one-shots or drabbles! much love <3 kiwi

Tag List: @heyitsayjayy , @chxrrybomb22 , @ziallgff , @ametheslime , @hornyfordaryldixon , @risingofjupiter , @h3artz4soph , @godly-sinsx , @gurofushi , @shad0wcast , @thearsonistrat , @sollum , @onmycloudyet , @matthewpatel4life , @tashiagalinda , @knxfesup , @skibidirizzzlerrr

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fangswbenefits · 1 year ago

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The Arrangement (5) - Confrontation

Summary: Living under the same roof as Astarion was proving to me more of a challenge than you had anticipated.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: Nightmare. Hurt/Comfort. Innuendo. Heavy use of sarcasm hahaha.

Word count: 4.4k

Previous chapter. Ao3. Series Masterlist

If anyone had suggested a few days ago that you'd find yourself living under the same roof as Astarion, you would have called them delusional and point them to the nearest infirmary for a mental check.

But the wheels of fate turned in mysterious ways, and a mere glance at the man sitting across from you was proof enough of that.

The flames swirling and crisping in the nearby fireplace cast the most delicate yellow and orange tint on his pale complexion as he flipped the pages of a book you had lent him.

You had tried to focus on your own reading, but you just couldn't help but to occasionally shift your gaze to him.

Gods… it was nigh criminal how handsome this man was.

It was as if he had been hand-carved by someone intended on wreaking havoc in the name of beauty.

And, as far as you were concerned, they had thoroughly succeeded.

Suddenly, he lifted his head and he met your gaze dead-on, unblinkingly.

So handsome…

A cold shiver ran up the back of your neck, but you found herself unable to look away. It was as if, in that moment, you had managed to block out everything around you but him. The longer you stared at him, the more acutely you felt detached from reality.

“May I kiss you?”

You blinked a few times. “What?”

His eyes narrowed, one eyebrow raised in sheer perplexity.

“No need to look so offended, darling,” he said with a scoff, rising from his seat and snatching the candle holder from the table to your right. “I was merely asking for this. I apologise if the request is out of the realm of your ‘one hundred good deeds I must perform before I perish’ list.”

You blinked again.

What?

You glanced around, but judging from the lack of reaction from both Gale and Shadowheart, you figured that maybe he hadn't actually asked to kiss you.

Great. Now I'm hallucinating…

He returned to his padded chair with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I've seen more light in the deepest corners of the Shadowlands.”

Maybe sleep deprivation was finally taking its toll on you, rendering you delirious.

Regardless, the illusion had been enough to flare your heart, and you hurriedly focused your attention on the book in your hands.

“I had quite forgotten how peacefully silent it can be without having you around, Astarion.” Shadowheart spoke as she tended to a few rolls of parchment and letters.

“Well, you can thank Wyll for that.”

She ignored him. “All you do is complain.”

You felt a storm brewing on the horizon as you lifted your eyes to glance at him.

Astarion let out a cynical laugh. “You're one to speak.”

Shadowheart was now scowling. Deeply.

“Besides, that is a rather disingenuous accusation. Want proof?” he asked, clearing his throat. “So, Gale - what are you reading that has you scribbling about like a mad man?”

The wizard snapped out of his nose-deep dive and brought his quill to a halt with a beaming smile. “Glad you ask, my friend. ‘A Visual Guide to Baldur's Gate's Exquisite Cuisine’. First edition. Hand-signed by the finest chefs in the city. What a marvel, indeed.”

As expected, Astarion looked as unimpressed as ever, but you interjected before he could mouth anything obtuse.

“That sounds rather exciting, Gale.”

He nodded eagerly. “A small guilty pleasure of mine, I must say. I'm taking down some notes, so that I can - hopefully - prepare some delectable dishes for us.”

Shadowheart's eyes remained fixed on Astarion as if awaiting for him to burst at any moment.

He exchanged a quick glance with you before muttering, “Unbelievable.”

“I think it's to be commended that he cares enough to try,” you said sweetly, earning a scornful glare from him. “I can't wait for you to showcase your abilities, Gale.”

“My sentiments exactly, dear friend.”

Astarion chuckled darkly. “‘Abilities’ as in setting the kitchen ablaze, or…”

You shot him a death glare.

He shrugged. “You two are a match made in the hells.”

This had you snap your book closed with a loud thud, eyeing him defiantly. “So what constitutes an engaging reading to you, Astarion? Murderous ploys?”

His lips curled into a devious smile. “Something along those lines. Although I do enjoy indulging in some debauchery from time to time.”

You weren't sure Gale would set the kitchen ablaze with his cooking skills, but Astarion's blunt and crass words sure did that to your cheeks.

Shadowheart scoffed.

“There are some interesting books in my collection,” he continued, clearly enjoying your loss of composure. “I will gladly lend you some… or maybe offer a guided tour through my favourite pieces?”

You needed to change the subject.

Fast.

You were most definitely fighting a losing battle.

This was Astarion's playground, and he would always come out victorious.

“Must you always resort to such vulgarity?” Shadowheart sneered, shaking her head in disapproval.

“I'm afraid the city is fresh out of those who know how to properly enjoy themselves, and we can't all be dullards, darling.”

You cleared your throat. “So, Gale… you're leaving for Waterdeep soon enough.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Yes. If all goes well, we shall have access to the Wish spell soon enough, my vampling friend.”

Astarion crossed his arms. “Finally some progress.”

“Maybe you should be more thankful.” You said with a frown.

“As should you,” he shot back. “No more need to offer your blood to me.”

Fair enough.

“Much to your disappointment, I imagine.” Shadowheart chimed in.

But before he could retort, you heard a rising commotion outside that only came to a halt as the front door burst open.

Lae'zel came through, carrying what appeared to be a very much deceased wild boar across her shoulders as if it was nothing more than a sack of feathers.

She kicked the door shut at once, nostrils flaring. “Tsk'va! What are those two doing outside?”

“House arrest.” Astarion informed.

Bringing the carcass to the kitchen table, Lae'zel locked eyes with you, visibly annoyed.

“I had plans to rescue you from that prison. And I would have had it my way had it not been for Gale and his… morals.”

Gale bolted from his seat, suddenly looking rather distressed. “Lae'zel, we've spoken about this before and agreed not to bring bleeding carcasses into our home.”

She glared at him. “You alone agreed to it - I had no part in it.”

He gave her an exasperated look, picking up a piece of cloth to wipe away the strands of blood that had begun to run along the wooden surface.

“If this falls on the carpet, it will be a nightmare to remove the stains.”

Astarion tutted. “Darling, that carpet is so hideous that being splattered with carrion blood would be a vast improvement.”

You rose to your feet, rushing to join Lae's zel, who quickly placed her hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Your lips tugged into a genuine smile.

To her, this was the equivalent of ‘I am glad you're safe and I care for you’ and it warmed your heart beyond measure.

Naturally, Astarion quickly joined your side, earning Lae'zel's disdainful gaze.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, it was a two-for-one type of deal, wasn't it?” Astarion mocked, turning to you. “Free one criminal and get two on house arrest.”

Unfortunately for Astarion, Lae'zel had little patience to entertain his sarcastic remarks and merely scoffed.

“I would have easily rescued from that prison, you know?” She gave your shoulder another squeeze and you nodded. “Those frail guards are no match for a githyanki.”

“On that much we can agree.” He mused.

She gave him a stern look. “I would have left you there.”

“We fought a giant brain, a scheming squid, and a whole parade of lunatics side by side, in case you've forgotten, my dear nest of vipers friend,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe you ought to show more gratitude.”

You expected her to snap at him, but she merely pressed her lips and gave him a nod.

That would be as far as she'd go, though.

“Well, as much as I enjoy this ‘family’ reunion, I'm off to my room,” Shadowheart said from a distance, already heading towards the staircase. “Please do not maim each other in my absence - there's only so much healing I can provide.”

You chuckled and she smiled warmly at you.

“Say, Lae'zel…” Astarion started, circling the boar with utmost interest. “I would hate for perfectly adequate blood to go to waste.”

The implication in his words wasn't subtle at all, and she groaned. “I thought you feeding on our friend was enough.”

Your stomach lurched violently.

He scoffed. “There is no such thing as ‘enough’ blood for a vampire. Besides, she's the main course… this would be more of an aperitif, if you will.”

Now, you felt positively sick to your core.

A wave of nausea and repulsion gripped you tight.

“It would be a mutually beneficial situation - I save Gale from a mental breakdown, sparing you tue ordeal, and I also get to quench my hunger.”

Gale grumbled something in agreement.

But you felt the sudden wish to be swallowed whole by some magical hole in the ground.

The way he referred to you as nothing more than food prompted a visceral reaction from you, and you feared you might empty the contents of your stomach from it alone.

“Um… I'll go get some sleep… I'm too tired,” you said dismissively, already pacing towards the corridor that led to your room. “Have a good night.”

Astarion called after you, but you didn't bother looking back.

But before you could turn the doorknob, you heard light steps approaching and firm fingers gripping your forearm.

Astarion.

His face was void of any amusement. “You're upset.”

You pulled free from his grasp. “A neat observation. No wonder you're such a skilled rogue.”

His brows furrowed lightly. “What's the matter?”

“It seems that I'm only worthy of your attention when it comes to you treating me as nothing but a meal, to hurl your sarcastic remarks at. Oh - and unless I'm on the verge of death,” you said, counting on each finger.

He seemed quite taken aback, his features twisting into a scowl. “You really adore selling yourself short, don't you?”

“You won't even deny it.”

“Then what sort of attention do you want from me?” He asked, taking a step closer, the sudden proximity catching you off-guard. “Do enlighten me.”

You glared at him in silence for a moment, vaguely wondering how the two of you had gotten to this point in your relationship, where everything seemed so… off.

Astarion was standing in front of you, but it wasn't truly him.

He was there, but not really.

He seemed so detached from the Astarion you had fallen for, and a part of you loathed that you had allowed yourself to get so attached to him in the first place.

Eventually, you heaved a deep sigh as he awaited your reply. “The sort of attention I don't have to beg for.”

His face softened briefly and he parted his lips only to press them close together again as if he had decided against speaking.

Right.

You swallowed hard. “Have a good night.”

The hopeful part of you half-expected him to stop you from walking away as you closed the door behind you, but he did no such thing.

You pressed your back against it, taking a deep breath, feeling as if you had just lost something.

Had you been too dramatic?

Did it even matter at this point?

Maybe it was better off this way.

You moved to scrub your face clean in the washbasin, preparing yourself to get some rest before the morning came.

Whatever was of your relationship with Astarion would have to wait for you to be able to think more clearer.

Slipping into your nightdress, you allowed yourself to fall on your bed and onto your stomach with a muffled thud, wanting to do nothing more than to scream into the covers, but remained still instead.

After what felt like hours of restlessly rolling beneath the sheets, you felt your mind lighten and were able to find solace in the peace and quiet.

That was until you heard a distant voice.

A woman's voice.

Her voice.

“Go on. Bleed her dry for me…”

You felt the mattress dip slightly and your eyes snapped open only to find Astarion baring his fangs.

And then he was on you, pinning you frozen with both hands.

“No - stop! Get off!”

He didn't hold back and you felt a familiar sting tear through your neck, his cold lips sprawling across your skin.

“She's so pathetic. Just kill her. Put her out of her misery.”

“Get off!” You cried out, feeling his weight pinning you down.

He didn't waver and you felt your blood being drained from you alarmingly fast as you tried your best to yank free from his vicious grip.

You were going to die.

He was going to kill you.

“Stop! Please - Astarion!”

Something was squeezing your shoulder and you tried to squirm away from the increasing pressure.

You felt him chuckle in amusement against your skin and that was what killed you first.

“ASTARION!”

The grip on you kept on increasing and you realised someone was shaking you.

“Wake up.”

How was he speaking whilst fiercely feeding on you?

Were you already dead?

Your cries turned into uncontrollable sobs and you felt like breathing was no longer an option.

“Wake up!”

The shove against your shoulder was too fierce this time, and you jolted violently, feeling the pressure on top of you only faintly ease.

“Get the fuck off me!”

You tried to conjure a spell - any spell - that might help you set yourself free.

He called out your name and your eyes snapped open at once, only to see Astarion hovering over you, hand now pressed firmly against your lips, muffling your sobs.

Bergamot.

Rosemary.

Aged brandy.

It was him.

He was there.

The nightmare faded with each passing second, and, for the longest time, all you could hear were your laboured breaths as you struggled to step into reality.

Your eyes were blurred from the tears welling up, and you watched his lips part to utter something, but the pounding in your ears prevented you from understanding a single word.

He eventually dropped the hand from your mouth, staring at you with an understanding look on his face.

“You're safe."

For a split second, you wondered if this was truly your Astarion, and once you asserted that it was truly him sitting beside you, you pushed yourself from the mattress, looping your arms around his neck.

He took you in his arms, gently pressing his lips to your temple.

“You're safe. I'm here and I've got you."

You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down as you pressed your face to his shoulder, seeking any sliver of comfort he could spare you.

The door to your room burst open.

“What happened? What did you do?”

Shadowheart's accusatory tone ground on your already fragile nerves.

“She was having a nightmare.”

His cool hand came to the back of your head, further pressing you into him.

“Oh. Another one…”

You felt your heartbeat soothe and your breathing gradually even out.

But his embrace felt too much like coming home for you to part from him, so you didn't, allowing him to rock you gently in his arms.

“It's become more frequent as of late.” She said with a hint of sadness to her voice.

Astarion kept his lips pressed to your temple, grounding you.

You eventually pulled back from him with a loud sniffle. “I'm fine. I am sorry I worried you…”

Shadowheart approached you, kindness on her face. “Nonsense. I am here for you - we are here for you,” she added, glancing at Astarion. “Always.”

“I'll just try to get some rest… you two may go…” you stammered in between a few sobs.

Shadowheart didn't move and neither did Astarion.

You rubbed your puffy and wet eyes. “I mean it. It will be fine.”

“Very well,” Shadowheart drawled out reluctantly. “But please let me know if there is anything I can help with.”

You gave her a reassuring nod paired with a comforting smile.

She returned the gesture and excused herself, clicking the door shut behind her.

Your gaze shifted to him. “You can leave, too.”?

He scoffed. “No.”

“What?”

“You'll have to stake me.”

You were utterly confused by his perseverance.

“I am fine, Astarion. I am thankful for your help, but… you don't have to stay.”

He nodded. “I don't have to, but I want to.”

Your heart clenched tightly in your chest.

And then your eyes fell to his shoulder.

“Oh, my…” you winced at the sight of the soppy fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry for that…”

He looked confused at first, but followed your line of sight and smiled. “Was this an excuse to get me out of my shirt?”

His playful jab immediately had you chuckle, rolling your eyes at him.

“Not to mention that I've been covered in all sorts of your bodily fluids,” he went on, earning a surprised glare from you. “This might be my…” he paused brielfy, as if evaluating his options. “Ah - my third favourite, yes.”

You should have known better than to take the evident glare, but you could really use the distraction.

“What are the first two, then?”

You hadn't even realised your nightdress had come undone at the front until he reached out to pull back the sleeve that had slid down your arm.

Glancing down, you couldn't help the rush of heat on your cheeks as your breasts were barely covered at all.

“Blood, naturally,” he said in a low voice, tying each set of strings with unmatched dexterity, keeping your modesty preserved. “And your-”

But before he could reply, you quickly pressed your forefinger to his lips, eyes widening as you felt him smile under your touch and pressing a soft kiss.

You felt as though you might implode.

His hands moved up your chest, tying up the last knots.

“There - all neatly wrapped up like a nice little gift.” He said, amusement coating his words.

He was too good at getting under your skin.

More than you were willing to admit, especially out loud.

“Thank you for making me laugh.” You said truthfully, pushing aside how he had so easily made you feel all heated up.

“I aim to please.”

His words hit you like a thousand knives.

“You're more than that…” You said, wanting to reassure him that he didn't need to resort to honeyed words and calculated moves to create a meaningful connection with someone.

But your statement had the opposite effect, and he frowned slightly.

“Don't. Do not start…”

You swallowed and nodded in understanding. “I didn't mean to offend.”

He shook his head, adjusting the fabric of your nightdress over your shoulders. “You didn't. I merely do not wish to make this about me.”

You were slightly taken aback.

“I know all too well the burden of nightmares,” he explained. “Even if elves don't indulge in conventional sleep, we are still prone to nightmares when we trance.”

Oh.

“And I would hate for you to be plagued like that.”

You lowered your gaze, feeling extremely exposed all of a sudden.

“So tell me, darling, when did these start?” He asked, shifting closer to you. “And why were you screaming my name?”

You felt a lump swell in your throat.

He placed his finger under your chin, and pressed upwards until your eyes met his.

“What haunts you?”

You.

“Can we just… not…” You asked, already feeling tears prickling in the corners of your eyes.

Reason told you that a heartfelt conversation with Astarion was long overdue, but you didn't feel ready.

You still felt too startled and too vulnerable.

He had hurt you in more ways than one, even if unconsciously done at times.

“We don't have to talk about it.”

You nodded, a few tears rolling down. “Thank you.”

“We can push all of that aside, even if just for tonight.”

Your heart hammered fast inside you.

He then cradled your face in his hands, leaning in to press his lips to each cheek, kissing your tears away.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he trailed down, inching closer to your lips.

A shudder coursed throughout your entire body, barely able to contain the anticipation.

Please kiss me…

His thumbs rubbed slow circles on your flushed cheeks and your lips parted as his ghosted yours.

Astarion…

Almost there.

You could almost taste him.

Your hands came to grip his wrists tightly, silently urging him to take you.

Please… please…

As your heart thudded faster and faster, you gasped when he quickly kissed the tip of your nose before pressing his lips to your forehead.

You couldn't deny the overwhelming wave of disappointment that washed over you, even if, deep down, you realised it was probably the best course of action, considering how vulnerable you still felt from the nightmare.

A few more tears spilled over, which he quickly brushed away before pulling back.

“I can stay until you fall asleep.”

Your heart dropped.

Everything was conditional with him.

It was always meant to come to an end, eventually.

He would stay with you… but only until you drifted off to another nightmare, perhaps.

It was as if he couldn't simply stay with you.

You shook your head with a sniffle, letting go of him. “No. You can go… but thank you for this.”

“I can stay.”

“... until I fall asleep.” You finished his sentence.

He nodded, eyes locking with yours. “Or for as long as you need me.”

You felt ridiculous from the way your heart immediately skipped a beat.

“Will you hug me?”

He shifted back against the headboard and sprawled his arms out to you with a sly grin. “Come here, darling.”

For a brief moment, you saw your Astarion again.

Open and caring.

You scooted over to rest your body against his, smiling softly as he placed his arm around you, trailing absent-minded caresses along your arm.

His coldness felt comfortable even in the dead of night, and you wrapped your arm around his torso, enjoying the silence.

“Am I too cold?”

You're perfect.

You shook your head vehemently.

But he still reached out to grab the blanket at your feet, draping over your frame.

“You are shivering, you fool.” He whispered and you could hear the smile in his remark.

You snuggled up against him, wishing you could freeze this moment in time.

Slowly but surely, and lulled by his caresses, you felt exhaustion take over, your eyelids feeling progressively heavier.

Maybe this was all a dream.

Maybe you'd wake up only to find that this had never happened.

That you hadn't felt your Astarion once again.

His chin was resting atop your head and your heart skipped yet another beat.

“Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened to us…”

The hand on your arm stilled for a moment and he hushed you. “Just rest.”

Your eyelids did feel heavy, and you could recognise your own brain fighting away your sleep, but you still wanted to know.

You needed to know what had gone so terribly wrong.

Especially when the man holding you in his arms had just provided immeasurable comfort.

“I miss you… us…” You heard yourself mumble under your breath.

He did utter something unintelligible, but you were far too exhausted to ask for a repeat.

Your warm body slumped against his cold one as he lulled you into sleep with the rhythmic caresses on your back.

It seemed that this time, your nightmare had started and ended with him.

Morning came and he was gone.

Of course he was.

Even with your windows barred from the sun, he had still chosen to leave.

He had tucked you under the bedsheets and warm blankets.

You had nearly forgotten what a good night of sleep was ever since the nightmares had taken root in your mind.

His scent lingered all around you and it was impossible to escape it.

You eventually pushed yourself up to sit in silence, going over the events of a couple of hours ago.

Why did he always leave in the end?

Why couldn't you just bring yourself to move on from him?

You could have taken the time to open up to him about how you felt, but you were so afraid to push him away.

He had his own vulnerabilities and he didn't need yours weighing him down, too.

You lazily scrambled out of bed, slipping into your robe, ready for a new day.

As you made your way down the corridor, you began to hear heated voices coming from the kitchen.

“Must we all live in darkness because of you?”

You found Astarion sitting by the table, seemingly unbothered by Lae'zel's snarky remarks, the room plunged in darkness, keeping the scorching sun at bay.

“Oh please, feel free to address your complaints to the Grand Duke.”

Gale saw you first and offered a warm smile. “How are you feeling, my friend?”

You hugged yourself, forcing a smile. “I am well, thank you.”

Astarion turned his head to you, annoyance giving way to a sliver of concern. “Did you manage to get some rest?”

You nodded, your heart immediately reacting to his presence.

“Shall I brew some chamomile tea?” Gale offered eagerly, moving about the kitchen to gather the supplies.

“Thank you,” you said, glancing around. “Where is Shadowheart?”

“She headed out to the apothecary,” Gale said, placing the kettle by the fireplace. “She's keen on helping you out with these nightmares.”

Guilt hit you.

Of course she had.

Shadowheart had held your hand through so many perils, yet you couldn't help but to feel guilty that she was searching for help when the solution to your problem was right in front of you.

And he kept glaring at you, as if studying your every move.

A soft knock on the front door snapped you from your thoughts, and you went to push it open, revealing the visitor.

No.

No fucking way.

You immediately slammed the door shut, feeling rage swirl inside you.

“Who is it?” Gale asked.

“No one.”

Then your gaze met Astarion's whose eyebrow was arched in confusion.

“That is no way to treat a guest.” The woman outside chirped happily.

Ava.

Next chapter: Broken - November 26

Series Masterlist . I don't keep taglists, so feel to follow this story on Ao3 🩷

#astarion smut #astarion angst #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion scenario #astarion x you #astarion x reader

1K notes · View notes

milkoomi · 3 months ago

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semester success. ᥫ᭡

[ 3 chapter mini series ] | chapter one , chapter two

in this series, i’m going to teach you all my helpful tips and tricks on how to succeed in the new semester in just 3 quick chapters! get ready to take notes, we’re diving right in!

final chapter — SACRED STUDYING

the time you spend studying or doing schoolwork should feel sacred to you. you should immerse yourself into this trance where you just grind; making the most of your time and putting your best work into your assignments/studies. in this final chapter i’m going to share some ways that have helped me really lock in when i study for big exams! this is a lengthy chapter, so let’s get right into!

class is in session …

୨ৎ — create/find your sanctuary

where you study is the very first step into effective study habits. i touched on this point briefly in previous posts (such as this one), but i want to go more in-depth!

creating your study space

whether it’s your bedroom, an office, or even a spare room in your house, if you choose to study at home there are a few key things we need to settle.

cleanliness: your space needs to be clean and that cleaning needs to be maintained. when we study in areas that are messy and full of chaos, we’ll find ourselves stuck in a headspace that is just as messy and chaotic. if you’re in your bedroom and you have clothes lying on the floor, go put them away! clean your floors, dust off your shelves, make your bed; refresh your space so that when you go to sit down and get to work you have a clear mind!

organization: this is just to go off of the first point, but organize your work space. your desk is where all the magic happens, so create an organization system! make sure you have a pencil/pen holder, a desk lamp, maybe some small storage bins that can hold notecards/post-it notes/tape/etc.! amazon has some really great desk organization finds for a great price, and you can also score some really cute and aesthetically pleasing pieces as well! my pen/pencil holder also doubles as my desk lamp as well as a phone stand! i have another pencil holder that doubles as extra storage as well where i can keep my extra notecards & post-its! keep your study space organized!

decorations: your work space should feel like your space. don’t be afraid to cater your room’s/desk’s aesthetic to your liking! i personally love figurines (hatsune miku, blindbox finds, anime figures, etc.) and i love crystals, so i’ve added my own little trinkets onto my desk so that when i sit down to work i feel happy because i’m in my own space surrounded by things that bring me joy! your study space shouldn’t feel boring or lackluster, it should bring you joy! it should motivate you to work in that area because you created it into what you want it to be! don’t hesitate to add inspirational quotes around your study space as well whether it be ones you print out and frame or ones you write down on cute stationary and hang them up around your room and/or desk!

lighting: natural sunlight, overhead lighting, fairy lights, led lights; whatever it is, pick some kind of lighting that makes you feel relaxed yet still motivated to get work done! lighting is important! you need to be able to see your work, duh! but you also want to make sure your lighting isn’t too harsh on your eyes especially if you’re sensitive to light or isn’t too dim so that it makes you feel tired!

some other optional aspects to creating your study space:

candles/incense!

background music!

comfy back cushions!

your at-home study area needs to be a place for that productive energy to flow! it needs to not only make you feel comfortable at home, but also to motivate you to lock in. make it personable to you! include your favorite things, but don’t forget to incorporate supplies that will be useful and beneficial to you!

finding a good study environment

of course you have the typical libraries and cafés, and while those places are absolutely perfect for getting work done, you might find yourself getting bored of the same locations.

what to look for in a study location:

aesthetics: for a lot of us, how a place looks/is decorated matters! most of us strive for having an aesthetic area to study and work on assignments, it just adds to that motivation and makes us feel like those iconic characters like rory gilmore, paris geller, or even elle woods! so find a place that fits your aesthetic needs. maybe you want something leaning towards dark or light academia, maybe you’re searching for something cute and cozy, or maybe a place that’s a bit more modernized and minimalistic!

population & demographic: crowded areas are not the place for study sessions, so keep an eye out for how populated an area is! personally, i can’t focus when there’s a bunch of crowds in a place where i’m trying to study. people are distracting, and the more people there are in a place where i’m trying to study, the more i’ll lose focus. also, it’d be good to scope out what kind of people are at the place you’re trying to work at! are there any fellow students you see hard at work? are there clusters of people conversing and laughing together in different sections? are there people quietly reading in more secluded areas? who is exactly is at the place you wish to study? if the demographic fits to what you’re also trying to accomplish then maybe that place is a good fit for you! but if you notice that there are more people there to chat and laugh it up with friends/colleagues, then you might want to keep the search going.

noise: as crowds can be distracting, so can the level of noise. you might find yourself in a café where the music might be way too loud and it makes you lose your focus or the place you’re at is far too quiet and, for some reason, it might make you feel uncomfortable. consider the amount of noise around you and determine if you’re able to focus or not. some people prefer more noise while others don’t, and that’s okay! find what suits you and your study habits best!

furniture: any outside location (a place that isn’t your bedroom/personal office) needs to have proper furnishings so that you can lay out your notebooks, textbooks, and laptop/tablet. tables and chairs are key! make note of what kinds of tables you like. do you prefer lower standing tables or ones that are higher up? do you need to sit on a more cushioned chair/couch or do you need a stiff and stable chair? make sure the furniture at any location you plan on working at is optimal for your study sessions!

other things to consider:

amount of privacy!

smells!

hours of operation!

bathroom accessibility!

୨ৎ — form a ritual

having a good routine for your study sessions can make your work experience feel so much organized and even more enjoyable!

you might want to light some candles and start setting the overall vibe or maybe you have a specific way of preparing for your study sessions, either way whatever it is you do to get into the zone can help you get the most out of your work sessions.

things to do to prepare

clean: i’m not saying you have to do an entire deep cleaning of your space, but maybe just picking up laundry off your floor or making your bed! maybe you have cups & empty water bottles scattered on your desk, take them out! maybe you’ve got papers just all in miscellaneous piles, go and reorganize them! do whatever it might be to clean up your space a little, nothing major needs to happen, just pick up after yourself!

prepare a snack: making sure you have something to munch on while working is very important (making sure you’re eating is just important in general!), so before you sit down and get to work, make yourself a little snack! maybe a toasted pb&j (or nutella, my personal fav) sandwich or a little fruit salad or maybe it’s even a simple bag of chips! get yourself a little snack ready! brain food!!

make yourself a cup of coffee/tea: every time i post something under my #milkmedia tag, you’ll almost always see a cup of tea in my pictures! i’ve been trying to drink more tea rather than coffee, but if you need some kind of caffeine for your study sessions, make yourself a cup of coffee/tea! i love making myself some chai & i mix in a small teaspoon of honey and then i add some vanilla creamer!

write down your goals: make a quick list of what you want to get done during your session! avoid making it really detailed and keep it more generalized. it doesn’t even have to be coursework related, one of your goals might be to work for an hour! another goal could be taking a break during your session!

whatever it is you decide to do to incorporate into your study/work routine or what it is that you do to prepare for your session, make it personable to you! let it be things or little activities that prepare, calm, and clear your mind. your ritual doesn’t need to be any intricate or crazy, but simple things to bring into your routine can make your study sessions more enjoyable!

୨ৎ — time is gold

the time you take to study should be the length that you, your body, and your mind can handle! if a 4 hour study session is too overwhelming, try an hour less than that or you can always start by seeing how well you do within one hour. get a good gauge of how long you can keep your mind focused on your work. if you find yourself getting exhausted after 2 hours, then maybe some things within your routine need to change or you just need a break.

also be sure to consider that your time spent on studying/working should only be used for that reason! remove any distractions from your study space so that you can devote your time and energy into your work. of course, breaks are also essential, so be sure you set timers for yourself so that you can avoid burn out! when you do take those breaks, try to avoid scrolling through your phone. try closing your eyes and focus on your breathing! you can also get up and stretch, keep your body moving (trust me, your knees and back will thank you!). you can even take some time to read a few pages of a book that you read for entertainment!

incorporate the pomodoro method!! i’ve discussed this method a few times in previous posts, and loads of studyblr blogs talk about this method as well! but the pomodoro method helps you stay on track with your work/study sessions while still including much needed breaks within that time. again, you can set a timer, but there’s also so many “study with me” videos on youtube that follow the pomodoro method!

before you’re dismissed …

study sessions and the time you spend working on schoolwork shouldn’t feel like a trap to you, it should be time that motivates and inspires you! keeping yourself engaged is key, and if including simple decorations or creating an entire prep routine will help you get focused or keep you from going insane (because i know that getting work done can drive me a little crazy from time to time) will make your sessions so much more enjoyable, or at least tolerable! best of luck to all of you in your academic journey! i know that this semester will be full of successes for you!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

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pixiefelixie · 2 months ago

Text

𓆝..°°𓈒 ⋆ (필릭스) : REMEMBER THIS SUMMER "SATURDAY"

𓆉 °°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ synopsis felix is living the summer every teenager dreams of, with a perfect beach house on the east coast of australia and an even more perfect girlfriend. by taking the best of both worlds, felix invites her to experience the world he grew up in to make this the best summer ever. amidst bonfires, romantic sunsets, and seagulls, felix has one goal this summer: to finally tell her he loves her. with just one week to do so, felix is met with a challenge to make his feelings known before time runs out.

pairing: nonidol!felix x fem!reader, series warnings: felix + reader are intended to be 17-18, established relationship, fluff, suggestive themes!!, an erection happens but nothing more, making out important notes: The content of this work is purely fictional and is not intended to endorse or encourage any behavior, especially among minors, that may be deemed inappropriate or unsafe. This story is created solely for entertainment purposes and should be understood as fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

series masterlist

previous / next (let me know if you would like to be added to the series taglist!)

chapter under the cut! ~14k words

day 7 - 9:00

felix was wrecked.

he woke up this morning just to see that your toothbrush had been removed from the holder—the one that had sat right beside his for the past week, like it belonged there. like you belonged there. but now, the empty space mocked him, stark and glaring.

everything was a reminder that you were leaving. your suitcase, now zipped up and sitting neatly by your door, almost ready to go. the way you had returned the borrowed hoodie he had given you on the first night, folded too perfectly, as if trying to erase the fact that you had ever worn it.

the weight in felix’s chest hadn’t lifted since the moment he woke up—it only grew heavier with every little thing that reminded him you were leaving. it was stupid, maybe. you weren’t gone yet. you were still here, still breathing the same air as him, still close enough that he could reach out and touch you. but what did that matter when you were already slipping away?

the ceramic cup felt cold in your hands as you rinsed away the last traces of coffee, watching the water swirl down the drain. you took your time, drying it off carefully before placing it back in the cupboard—exactly where it belonged, exactly where felix would expect to find it tomorrow. the thought made your chest tighten. tomorrow. you wouldn’t be here tomorrow.

you exhaled slowly, pressing your palm against the counter to steady yourself. you’d spent the morning moving quietly, tucking things away, making sure you left no mess behind.

your eyes drifted to the window. beyond the glass, the ocean stretched endlessly, its surface shimmering under the late morning sun. the tide had pulled back, exposing damp sand and scattered shells. you knew exactly where felix was, even if you couldn’t see him. the wooden steps leading down to the beach blocked your view, but you could picture him there—sitting alone by the water, head tilted toward the waves.

you sighed.

for a moment, you let yourself hesitate, fingers gripping the edge of the sink. a part of you wanted to stay inside, let the minutes slip away until it was too late to talk, too late to say anything at all. maybe it would be easier if you just left. if you let this ending remain unspoken, unfinished. but that wasn’t fair—to you, to him.

so you forced yourself to move.

the screen door creaked softly as you stepped outside, the warm breeze brushing against your skin. the wooden steps felt solid beneath your feet, each one carrying you closer to the inevitable.

felix didn’t turn when you reached the bottom. he just stood there, watching the waves roll in and out, his shoulders tense.

you swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step forward.

“felix,” you said, barely above a whisper.

he didn’t move at first, but you saw the way his back stiffened, the way his fingers curled into fists at his sides. and when he finally turned to look at you, his eyes were already filled with something you couldn’t bear to name.

"hey," he said, voice quiet but steady. he patted the sand beside him, an invitation.

you hesitated. just for a second. but then you moved, sinking down beside him. the sand was cool beneath your hands, grains slipping through your fingers as you exhaled slowly.

it all felt off. normally, if you and felix were sitting by this beach, you’d be leaning into him—your head on his shoulder, his arm lazily slung around your waist. normally, the space between you didn’t exist.

but now, there was a thick wall between you, invisible but unbreakable.

felix turned his head slightly, his gaze settling on you. you felt it—the quiet weight of it, the way he was searching for something in your expression. maybe he was looking for reassurance. maybe he already knew what was coming.

you couldn’t bear to look at him.

your throat tightened as you dropped your eyes to the sand, watching the fine grains slip through your fingers. your hands felt small, unsteady. you hated that. you hated feeling this fragile in front of him.

felix had always been able to read you too well. and now, sitting this close, you started to wonder if he noticed your red eyes—if he could see the exhaustion clinging to you, the proof of last night when you had buried your face in your pillow and cried so quietly it almost didn’t feel real.

you swallowed and forced yourself to say something.

"um."

it wasn’t much, but felix shifted slightly, angling his body toward you. he was listening. he always listened.

you clenched your jaw, focusing on the sand in your hands, rubbing the grains between your fingers. then, finally, you forced the words out.

"i’ve been thinking about us," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "about what would happen when we get back to sydney."

felix didn’t dare to speak.

you could feel it—the way he held his breath, the way his fingers curled just a little tighter against his knees, like he was bracing for impact. maybe if he didn’t say anything, he could pretend for just a second longer that this conversation wasn’t happening. that everything was fine. that this wasn’t the moment everything changed.

but you weren’t going to let him pretend.

you swallowed, voice quieter now. “just… just know that you won’t have to treat me differently anymore. you won’t have to do the things you normally do for me. ”

felix’s brows furrowed slightly, but he still didn’t speak.

like walking me home from school.

like keeping an extra hair tie around his wrist because he knows i always lose mine.

like waiting for my goodnight text before going to sleep, even if i take too long to send it.

like looking at me the way he’s looking at me right now.

you couldn’t say all of that. your voice would break if you tried. so instead, you just let the words sit between you, like the ocean air was carrying them away.

felix shifted beside you, and for a second, it almost seemed like he was going to reach for you. like muscle memory was kicking in, like he was about to lace your fingers together, pull you closer, keep you there.

but he didn’t.

instead, he exhaled shakily, tilting his head up toward the sky, like it hurt too much to look at you. and maybe it did.

felix’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke, but there was no mistaking the way it wavered, like he was barely holding it together.

“this is you breaking up with me, right?”

you inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around a handful of sand before letting it slip through your grasp. you looked at him then. really looked at him.

his eyes were still fixed on the sky, his jaw set, his lips pressed together like he was trying to keep himself from saying something else—something desperate, something that might make you stay. not only stay at the beach. but stay with him.

you sighed, staring down at your lap. your voice came out small, tired. “i mean… what else am i supposed to do, felix?”

felix went silent.

you swallowed, forcing yourself to keep going, even though every word felt like pressing on a bruise. "i told you last night that i loved you, and you didn’t say anything."

felix’s breath hitched just slightly, but he still didn’t look at you. his fingers curled into the sand beside him, gripping it like it could ground him, like it could hold him steady when everything else was slipping through his fingers.

you let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking your head. "and now, we’re sitting here, talking about breaking up, and you still won’t say anything."

nothing.

he just sat there, staring at the waves, like if he stayed quiet long enough, maybe the ocean would swallow this whole conversation and carry it away.

you exhaled, the sound shaky, defeated. "i get it. it’s uncomfortable for us to talk about."

you stared at him for a moment longer, waiting—hoping—for something. anything. a word. a reason. a fight. but felix stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the waves, his hands buried in the sand like he was trying to hold onto something that had already slipped away.

you exhaled, rubbing your palms over your jeans, trying to gather your thoughts. the silence between you had stretched too long, filled with everything left unsaid. maybe that was how it was always going to end—quietly, painfully, without answers.

you swallowed, gripping the fabric of your jeans between your fingers. "if i hadn’t said it… if i hadn’t told you i loved you last night… would it hurt this much to leave?"

felix blinked, taken aback. his jaw tensed. you saw his throat bob as he swallowed hard, saw the way his fingers twitched against the sand.

you forced out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “would things have just been better if i hadn’t said anything?” your voice wavered, but you pushed through.

felix’s brows knitted together, his mouth opening slightly like he wanted to stop you—but the words had already slipped out, and once they started, you couldn’t hold them back.

“maybe i should’ve just kept it to myself,” you whispered, your throat tightening with every word. “maybe then, we wouldn’t be—”

your voice caught, cracking mid-sentence. you sucked in a sharp breath, pressing a hand over your mouth as if you could physically stop the sob that threatened to break free.

felix moved before he could stop himself. his hand hovered over yours for a split second—hesitant, unsure—but when he saw the way your shoulders shook, the way you refused to meet his eyes, he gave in.

his fingers curled gently around your wrist, grounding, warm.

“don’t,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “don’t say that.”

you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “but it’s true, isn’t it?”

felix’s grip on your wrist tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to make you feel it. to make sure you knew he was still here.

but it wasn’t enough.

you let out a shaky breath, your voice breaking as you pushed forward. “if you’re gonna deny it, then just—just tell me.”

felix inhaled sharply, but he didn’t speak. he just stared at you, his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat.

you swallowed, chest rising and falling unevenly. “tell me that all you’ve done for me is for a reason,” you whispered. “tell me that yesterday morning wasn’t a mistake.”

his breath hitched.

your voice was barely more than a plea now. “tell me that you actually feel something for me. that this isn’t just—just habit, or guilt, or whatever else.” you exhaled, your grip tightening in your lap. “tell me, and i’ll stay. i won’t go home today.”

felix’s silence was the loudest thing you had ever heard.

you could see it—his struggle, the war in his eyes, the way his fingers trembled slightly even as he held onto you. and for a second, just a second, you let yourself hope. hope that maybe, maybe he’d say something that would make you stay.

but then, he exhaled, long and shaky, and his grip on your wrist loosened before he finally let go.

the absence of his touch was immediate, leaving behind nothing but cold air and an ache that settled deep in your bones.

felix ran a hand through his hair, tilting his head back toward the sky, like he was trying to find the right words. or maybe just the least painful ones. but when he finally spoke, his voice was eerily calm, steady in a way that made your stomach twist.

he hesitated, just for a second. “i don’t love you. i can’t.”

your breath caught.

he didn’t even give you time to react before he kept going, each word cutting deeper than the last.

“i never did.”

the wind howled around you, the waves crashing against the shore, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heart shattering in your chest.

felix just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “you need something from me that i can’t give. you need that commitment. i was never going to be that guy for you.”

you swayed slightly where you sat, like the weight of his words was physically knocking the air out of you.

the way he said it—so detached, so certain—made your stomach twist.

every moment you had shared, every soft touch, every lingering glance—had it all been a lie?

your lips parted, but nothing came out.

felix sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, glancing away as if this conversation was nothing more than an inconvenience to him. “i don’t know what else you want me to say, y/n. i didn’t ask for this. i didn’t ask for you to fall in love with me.” he shook his head. “i was just trying to have fun. i never meant to lead you on. we weren’t supposed to be this serious”

the words knocked the air from your lungs.

felix didn’t flinch. “so if you can’t take it, go home, y/n,” he said, his voice cool, final. “go home and forget about me.”

you inhaled shakily, willing yourself not to cry again, not in front of him. but you could already feel the sting in your eyes, the lump in your throat, the way your body fought against the truth he was handing you so easily.

your relationship wasn’t real to felix.

and you were foolish to think that it ever was.

your lips parted, but no sound came out. there was nothing left to say, nothing you could say that wouldn’t make this worse.

and that was it.

no fight. no hesitation. no apology.

you forced yourself to move. slowly, you stood up, brushing the sand off your palms, off the back of your shorts.

you cleared your throat, forcing your voice to stay even. “i’m taking the 3:15 bus.”

felix’s shoulders stiffened. but all he did was nod.

and somehow, that was worse than anything he could have said.

day 7 - 12:00

“if you’d told me you two were broken up before you called me to surf, i wouldn't have come,” chris said, his tone sharp as he glanced at felix.

felix’s jaw tightened, frustration bubbling up. “i didn’t call you to talk about it, man. i called you to get out of my head for a bit.”

chris scoffed, shaking his head. “and running away from it is really helping, huh?”

felix didn’t answer, his eyes fixed on the horizon, trying to push everything—you, the conversation, the mess—out of his mind. but chris wasn’t letting up.

chris let out a dry laugh. “you know, i get not wanting to deal with it, but pretending it’s not there isn’t gonna fix anything.”

felix didn’t respond. he didn’t want to talk about this—not now, not when the weight of this morning was still pressing down on him like a stone in his chest.

chris studied him for a moment, then sighed. “look, i’m not saying you have to fix it right this second, but you can’t just act like you’re fine either. you’ve been all over the place these last few days.” chris continued, undeterred.

felix exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip on his board. “i’m fine, chris. we broke it off, we understood each other. everything went smoothly.”

chris snorted.“yeah? that so?” he narrowed his eyes. “how could it have gone smoothly?”

felix hesitated, just for a second, but chris caught it.

“she must’ve fought for it,” chris pushed. “she wouldn’t have just let it go.”

felix’s fingers twitched against the fiberglass. his throat felt tight.

“it was not that complicated, chris.” he said, his voice almost too steady.

chris frowned. “bullshit.”

felix’s jaw clenched. he could feel chris’s stare boring into him, searching, waiting for him to crack.

then, finally, the words slipped out, quiet, forced.

“because i told her i didn’t love her. i told her i didn’t feel anything.”

chris’s expression froze.

felix admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “so she wouldn’t fight.”

chris let out a slow breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “felix.”

felix let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “i mean, what else was i supposed to do? stay silent again? get choked on my words like last night?” his grip on the board tightened. “i didn’t want to confuse her.”

chris stared at him like he didn’t even recognize him. “so you lied?”

felix didn’t answer.

chris took a step closer, his voice lower now, sharper. “felix, she believed in you. hell, she basically lost her virginity to you.” he let the words hang there, heavy, cutting. “that’s just so fucked. you can’t just do that.”

felix flinched, but chris wasn’t done.

“you don’t get to tell someone you don’t love them after that,” chris pressed. “not if it’s not true. not if—” he exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his hair. “god, man. do you even realize what that must’ve done to her?”

felix stared at the ground, jaw tight.

“she trusted you,” chris went on. “you don’t think she deserved the truth?”

felix let out a slow breath, eyes still fixed on the sand. “the truth wouldn’t have made it any easier.”

chris scoffed. “for who? you or her? you think she’s better off hating you, don’t you?”

felix stiffened.

chris scoffed, shaking his head. “yeah, i figured. that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard, by the way.”

felix’s grip tightened on his board, fingers pressing so hard against the fiberglass that they ached. “it’s done, chris.” his voice was flat. hollow.

chris let out a short laugh, but there was no amusement in it. “yeah? is that why you’re out here, trying to drown yourself in waves that could snap your board in half?” he took a step closer. “if you really thought she was better off, you wouldn’t be acting like this.”

felix swallowed hard, his throat burning. he hated how easily chris saw through him. hated how he had to bite down on the instinct to defend himself—because chris was right.

chris hesitated, then said carefully, “and i told her, by the way. the other day.”

felix frowned, glancing over at him. “told her what?”

chris met his eyes. “that you love her.”

felix froze. his breath caught in his throat.

“you what?”

chris shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “yeah, i told her.”

felix just stared at him, his entire body going stiff. “chris—why would you do that?” his voice was quieter now, but there was something raw in it, something close to panic. “she was probably expecting me to say it back then.” his voice was tight, forced. “don’t mess with things like this, man.”

chris narrowed his eyes. “mess with what? the truth?”

felix let out a humorless laugh, running a hand down his face. “you don’t just get to drop something like that on her.” his jaw clenched. “you don’t get to—” he stopped himself, his breath uneven.

“you really think she didn’t already know?” chris sighed. “she deserved to hear it, felix. even if it wasn’t from you.”

felix’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “you don’t get to decide that for me.” his voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it.

chris shook his head. “and you don’t get to lie to her just because you’re scared.”

felix’s throat burned. “like i said, it’s done,” he muttered, barely audible. “it doesn’t matter anymore.”

chris watched him for a long moment, then exhaled sharply. “yeah? tell that to yourself when you see her again.”

felix looked away, his jaw tight. his pulse was pounding in his ears.

“look,” chris said, his tone softer now. “you love her, yeah?”

felix exhaled slowly. “yeah,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“and you’re just gonna let her leave without knowing that?”

felix swallowed. he didn’t answer.

“i get it, man. it’s scary. saying it out loud makes it real, and that’s a lot. but… you already lost her by not saying it. what’s the worst that could happen if you just told her the truth?”

felix opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. his pulse raced. he did love her, and that terrified him. everything about it terrified him.

“you think it’s easy? you think i want this? want to lose her like this?” felix’s voice was shaking, his chest tight with all the words he hadn’t been able to say. “it’s not that i don’t care. i do. i do. but how am i supposed to just... say it when i’m not even sure what i’m doing?”

chris held his gaze, steady and unwavering. “you still have time to fix this before she leaves, felix.” his voice was calm, but there was an urgency beneath it. “but just know—once she steps on that bus, it’s over.”

felix swallowed hard, his breath uneven. his fingers curled against his palms, the weight of chris’s words pressing down on him like a vice.

“i don’t—” he stopped, shaking his head. “i don’t even know what to say to her.”

chris huffed out a short, disbelieving laugh. “you do, felix. it’s the same three words you’ve been dying to let out.”

felix clenched his jaw, looking away.

chris ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “look, i’m not saying it’s gonna be easy. but you love her, man. and if you let her leave thinking you don’t, that’s on you.”

felix pressed his lips together, staring at the sand. his hands curled into fists, then slowly relaxed. chris didn’t push him any further. he just let the silence sit between them, letting felix sit with the truth of it.

felix shifted uncomfortably, his grip tightening on his surfboard. “look... you were right,” he muttered, barely above a whisper, like saying it aloud would make it even more real.

chris blinked, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

felix exhaled sharply, staring down at the sand. his fingers drummed against the fiberglass of his board, restless, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. “you were right,” he repeated, a little firmer this time. “about all of it.”

chris raised an eyebrow. “about what?”

felix’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. he couldn’t say her name, not here, not now. every time he thought about it, it was like a knot in his chest—like something he couldn’t untangle. he wanted to say something, to explain, but the words just wouldn’t come. he clenched his jaw and shook his head slightly. “you know,” he started, but his voice faltered. “the past person.”

chris blinked, his brows knitting together. then, after a beat, he let out a dry, disbelieving chuckle. “seriously? ‘the past person’?”

felix’s jaw was locked, his chest tight, and just the thought of saying her name—of letting it roll off his tongue—felt like shoving a knife into an old wound. chris’s mouth opened like he had something to say, but for once, he hesitated. he just watched felix, really watched him—the tension in his jaw, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides, the way his breath came just a little too fast, like the weight of this conversation was pressing down on his chest.

felix let out a slow, unsteady breath. “everything that happened… it’s still there. still sticking to me like it just happened yesterday.” his voice was rough, barely above a whisper. “i can’t shake it, chris. and you were right.” his throat tightened. “maybe she’s the reason i can’t do this.”

chris didn’t say anything right away. he just let the words sit there, heavy and unshakable. then, gently, he said, “felix… i’m sure y/n would understand if you just explained it to her.”

felix let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “and what exactly do you want me to say?” he turned to face chris fully now, his expression twisted. “what am i supposed to tell her, huh? ‘hey, baby, i sorta killed my verbally abusive ex, so now i can’t say i love you’—is that what you think i should tell her?” his voice cracked, something raw slipping through, but he didn’t care.

chris’s jaw tightened. “why do you still think you killed her, felix?” he spoke slowly, carefully, like he was trying to keep felix from running, from shutting down completely. “after i spent a whole damn year telling you that you didn’t?”

felix paused, the words hitting him harder than expected. “my bad,” he muttered, his voice tight.

chris sighed, his expression softening, but there was still that firm edge to his voice. “you don’t have to tell her everything, not all at once.” he stepped closer, his tone steady, unwavering. “but you owe her the truth. that’s at least what she deserves.”

felix’s jaw clenched. he knew chris was right—of course he was right. but that didn’t make it any easier. the truth was a tangled mess inside him, all sharp edges and frayed ends, and the thought of putting it into words—of giving it power, of letting you see all the ugly, broken pieces of him—made his chest tighten with something close to panic.

chris must have seen it, because his voice softened even more. “felix, you love her.”

felix’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

chris sighed. “so stop making decisions for her. let her decide if she still wants you after knowing the truth.”

felix shook his head, his grip tightening around his board like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “she won’t stay, chris.” his voice was quiet, but firm—like he had already made peace with the inevitable. like he was bracing for impact before the crash even came.

chris exhaled, frustrated but patient. “felix, listen to me.” he stepped closer, waiting for felix to actually look at him. “she's not mabel.” the name alone made felix flinch, but chris didn’t stop. “she’s not going to treat you like that. you’re not going to scare her off by being honest with her.” his voice softened. “you’re just… too tangled up in the past to see it clearly right now.”

his words echoed in felix’s mind, and he couldn’t shake them. you’re not her. the more he thought about it, the more he realized how true that was. you weren’t mabel. you never had been. you hadn’t twisted his love into something toxic or used his vulnerabilities to manipulate him. you had always treated him with kindness, with respect, with an honesty that made him want to trust you—even when he was scared.

felix’s breath caught in his throat as he repeated the words in his head, over and over, trying to convince himself.

you’re not her.

day 7 - 15:15

a few hours had passed, slipping through felix’s fingers faster than he could grasp. time had a cruel way of moving like that—too slow when you wanted to forget, too fast when you weren’t ready to say goodbye.

and now, here he was. standing at the bus stop with you, watching as the reality of your leaving settled into something solid, something unavoidable. your bags were packed, your whole life for the next stretch of time condensed into a few suitcases. he’d insisted on carrying them, even when you told him not to. maybe it was just an excuse to hold onto something of yours for a little longer.

his hands were full, but that wasn’t what was weighing him down. it was everything he hadn’t said. everything still sitting heavy in his chest, pressing against his ribs, waiting.

felix shifted his weight, his grip tightening around the handles of your suitcase. the silence between you stretched, thick and heavy, almost suffocating. the bus stop was quiet, but inside his head, everything was too loud. the words chris had drilled into him hours ago still echoed, reverberating against the walls of his mind.

he looked over at you.

and there you were.

you stood with your arms crossed, your shoulders tense, your fingers curling and uncurling like you weren’t sure what to do with your hands. you weren’t looking at him. not really. your gaze was fixed somewhere near the pavement, your brows knitted together ever so slightly, lips pressed into a thin line—like you were trying your best to hold everything in, to not let anything slip.

felix knew you well enough to see it. you were uncomfortable. you were standing here with him, beside him, but there was a space between you that hadn’t always been there—one he had created.

his chest tightened.

you finally spoke, your voice quieter than usual.

“felix,” you said, still not looking at him. “you don’t have to stay.”

his throat went dry.

you let out a small breath, shifting from one foot to the other, then finally turned to face him. “i can wait here until the bus comes,” you continued, voice careful, measured. “you should go home.”

home.

felix swallowed hard. it should’ve been simple, right? you told him to leave, so he should. that was the logical thing to do.

but his feet didn’t move.

his fingers curled around the suitcase handle and his pulse was erratic, hammering against his ribs.

felix shifted on his feet. you could tell he was debating something, maybe even considering listening to you for once, but then he shook his head—just barely—and said, “no, uh… it’s okay. i’ll stay. just until you get on.”

you swallowed hard.

the air between you went silent, thick with everything unsaid. even the occasional whoosh of cars in the distance felt muted, like the world had decided to press pause just to make this moment even more unbearable.

felix exhaled, glancing down at his shoes before rubbing the back of his neck. “so, um…” he hesitated, then forced out a chuckle, as if that could make things less awkward. “what was your favorite part of the trip?”

you blinked at him. after everything, after what he said—he wanted to talk about the trip? like things were normal? mentally, you scoffed. you didn’t want to answer. didn’t want to entertain the conversation, didn’t want to let him pretend this was fine. but the weight of his stare lingered, waiting, pressing, and so you forced yourself to say the first thing that came to mind.

“maybe… paddleboarding.”

felix nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, like he was trying to hold onto something good. but you knew, just as well as he did, that it wasn’t the paddleboarding that had meant the most to you.

it was the quieter moments—the ones tucked away, hidden between the noise. like the time at the cove, when the sun had been just the right shade of orange as it dipped into the ocean, or the night of the storm, when the world outside had been drenched and cold, but inside, between the two of you, there had been nothing but warmth.

those moments were the ones that felt worth remembering. the ones that deserved to be written in a story, as though they were the kind of thing worth capturing in the pages of a book, where things could be real and imperfect but somehow beautiful all the same.

but felix had taken a red pen to your story.

he’d crossed out the parts that mattered.

felix simply nodded, his gaze flickering away as if he knew there was more you weren’t saying. but he didn’t press. didn’t push. just stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, rocking slightly on his heels like this was just any other conversation.

and maybe that should’ve been the end of it. maybe you should’ve let the silence settle again, let the conversation die out like the embers of something already burnt beyond recognition.

but instead, you found yourself asking, “what was yours?”

you weren’t even sure why. maybe it was curiosity. maybe it was bitterness, a part of you waiting for him to say something ridiculous—something that would prove how little he really understood about what this trip had meant to you.

felix’s lips parted slightly, like he was just about to say something—like the words were right there, balanced on the edge of his tongue. but before he could get them out, the distant hum of an engine grew louder, and the bus pulled up to the curb with a low, shuddering groan. the brakes hissed sharply, the door swinging open with a mechanical clank.

relief flooded through you. you needed to get out of here, and the bus had arrived just in time, like some kind of escape route appearing at the last possible second.

you pushed yourself up from the bench, fingers already curling around the handle of your luggage. but when you glanced to the side, felix was standing too—like he hadn’t even thought about it, like his body had just moved on instinct to match yours.

“that’s me,” you murmured, voice quiet, steady.

felix’s breath hitched. his heart pounded, drowning out the world around him—the hiss of the bus, the low murmur of passengers, the rustling leaves caught in the wind. his fingers wouldn’t let go.

you noticed.

"felix," you murmured, your voice barely a breath, your eyes searching his face.

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, jaw clenched tight like he was holding something back, like if he didn’t, everything he was trying to suppress would come spilling out all at once. the muscles in his forearm flexed, his grip on your luggage so tight his knuckles turned white. he was rigid, bracing for impact, as if letting go of this—of you—would take something vital with it.

then, finally, he looked at you.

and for the first time in days, he didn’t try to hide it.

the fear. the regret. the weight of everything he hadn’t said—it was all there, raw and unguarded, written in the crease of his brows, in the tight set of his mouth.

for a fraction of a second, you hesitated.

you thought about staying.

thought about what it would feel like to let yourself fall into him the way you always had, to pretend for just a little longer that you still belonged in his orbit. that gravity hadn’t shifted, that the ground beneath your feet wasn’t already gone.

but you couldn’t. not now. not like this.

someone brushed past you, muttering as they stepped onto the bus, but the world outside of this moment felt far away, blurred at the edges. all you could feel was the weight in your chest, the unbearable pull of felix’s presence, anchoring you when you knew you had to leave.

"stay," he said, voice rough, barely above a whisper. “just one more day.”

that was all it took. and just like that, something inside you cracked, splintering down the middle.

your breath caught, chest tightening like invisible hands were pressing down, squeezing until it hurt. you could hear it in his voice—the strain, the fear, the quiet desperation buried beneath the syllable. it wasn't just a request. it was a plea.

"you want me to?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.

felix barely nodded. it was small, hesitant—like saying it out loud would break him. his fingers twitched around the handle of your bag, and you knew, right then, that this wasn’t about luggage. this was about letting go. about losing you.

and for a second, you almost gave in.

"one more day so you won’t have to leave like this. please, baby.”

the name—soft, aching, too easy on his tongue—sent a shiver down your spine. a ghost of something you weren’t sure you could bear to feel again.

you swallowed hard, your grip tightening around the strap of your bag like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. the bus engine was humming, the driver barely sparing you a glance as the line of passengers shuffled forward. you were so close to leaving—so close to stepping onto that bus, to putting distance between yourself and the weight of everything he wasn’t saying.

but then there was felix. his fingers still curled around your bag, his eyes locked onto yours like he was afraid that if he blinked, you’d disappear.

“i can’t stay,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

his brows drew together, the muscles in his jaw tightening as if bracing himself for impact. “why not?”

your throat ached, and god, you wished he wouldn’t ask that. wished he wouldn’t make this harder than it already was.

“because you don’t get to do this,” you said, voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “you don’t get to push me away, to tell me you don’t love me, and then ask me to stay like none of that happened.”

his breath hitched, like your words physically knocked the air out of him.

“i know,” he said again, and this time, it was barely a sound. more like an admission, a confession, something raw and broken slipping between his lips.

you let out a shaky breath, willing yourself to move, to take that last step onto the bus, but you still weren’t sure if your feet would obey you.

your chest tightened as you lifted your hand, the movement slow and hesitant, as if each inch closer to him made your body ache with the weight of what was about to happen. your fingers brushed his cheek, the warmth of his skin seeping through, and you almost couldn’t breathe. you let your hand linger, trembling slightly as it cupped his face fully. his skin was soft under your palm, the familiar feel of him like an echo of a time when everything between you was simpler, lighter.

the moment you touched him, felix’s breath hitched sharply, his eyes fluttering shut like your fingers were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. the way his body seemed to freeze, how every inch of him softened under your touch, sent a pang straight through your chest. for a split second, everything felt real again—like the space between you was no longer filled with distance and hurt.

in that fragile moment, he was yours. the boy who used to steal your breath with just a look. the boy whose presence was enough to make the world fall away, to make everything else fade into the background. the boy who once held your heart like it was the most precious thing he’d ever touched, as if he were the only one who could hold it right.

but that boy wasn’t yours anymore.

and you weren’t his, either.

you pulled your hand back slowly, like it was being torn from him, the ache in your chest growing sharper with each second. felix’s fingers, which had been clinging to your bag, loosened reluctantly, his grip faltering as if he wasn’t ready to let go of the moment—or you. but finally, after what felt like an eternity, he did. his fingers released completely, and the absence of his touch was a cold, empty space you could feel in the marrow of your bones.

it was like a shiver ran through you, one that had nothing to do with the breeze or the chill in the air. his touch—his warmth—was gone, and that absence left you hollow.

you took a shaky step back, and the world seemed to press in closer, suffocating you with the weight of everything unsaid. your throat burned as you forced yourself to turn away. your heart was screaming to look back at him, but you didn’t. you couldn’t. because if you did, you knew that this—this goodbye—would never happen.

as you stepped away, something inside felix fractured. a deep, splintering crack that felt like it started in his ribs and spread outward, threatening to pull him apart.

he watched your back, the way your shoulders tensed—like you were holding yourself together by sheer force of will, like every instinct in you was screaming to turn around, but you wouldn’t let yourself.

and then, for the first time, a terrifying thought struck him with full force.

this was it.

his last chance.

if he let you walk away now, that was it—no rewrites, no second takes to fix what had already unraveled. no more late-night calls that stretched until sunrise. no more accidental glances across crowded rooms that felt anything but accidental. no more hope that, one day, you’d find your way back to him.

because this time, you wouldn’t.

felix felt it in his bones.

panic seized his chest, squeezing until it hurt. his heart slammed against his ribs, his pulse a roaring tide in his ears. he had spent so long telling himself there was time—that someday, somehow, he’d make things right. that you’d come back.

but there was no more time.

and if he didn’t do something—right now—he would lose you forever.

“wait.”

the word tore from his throat, raw and desperate. his feet moved before he could think, before reason could stop him, closing the space between you.

you froze.

his hands shook as he reached for you—not to hold you back, not to keep you here against your will, but just to touch. just to feel you, even for a second, to prove to himself that you were still real.

his fingers brushed your wrist, making you turn.

felix’s breath caught.

your eyes were glassy, sunlight catching on the unshed tears that lined them. your lips parted slightly, like there were words you wanted to say but couldn’t quite find. the sight of you—standing there, looking at him like that—sent a sharp, twisting ache straight through his chest.

he couldn’t keep doing this to you. couldn’t keep pulling you back when he had no right to.

his fingers twitched against your skin, and suddenly, he saw it—the exhaustion in your posture, the way your shoulders sagged beneath the weight of something heavy, something unspoken.

and he realized—he wasn’t making this easier. he was making it worse.

his throat tightened.

you glanced back at the bus. most of the passengers were already inside, the driver shifting impatiently in his seat, fingers hovering near the door controls.

the moment was slipping away.

you were slipping away.

felix panicked.

“don’t you wanna know my favorite part of the trip?” felix blurted, his voice fraying at the edges.

you hesitated. your brows pulled together—wary, guarded—but something in your stance shifted. the tension in your shoulders eased, just barely. and then, slowly, reluctantly, you turned back toward him.

felix swallowed hard. his palms were clammy, his throat dry.

you were so beautiful.

the thought hit him like a punch to the gut.

the way the sunlight softened against your skin, the way your eyes—tired, hesitant, but still on him—made him feel like he was sixteen again. back when he used to stumble over his words, back when he was desperate to make you laugh.

but this wasn’t then.

and he wasn’t sure he had anything left that could make you stay.

you exhaled slowly, closing your eyes for a moment, like you were trying to steady yourself, like if you could just block out the way he was looking at you, this wouldn’t hurt so much.

felix waited.

you could feel it—the weight of his stare, the silent plea in the space between you. he wanted this moment to stretch, to last just a little longer, to mean something. but you weren’t sure if it could anymore.

still, for some reason—maybe exhaustion, maybe something deeper—you gave him a chance. one last chance.

your eyes fluttered open, and you met his gaze.

“okay,” you said, voice quiet. “what was it?”

felix’s lips parted slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to ask, like he hadn’t thought he’d get this far. he ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous habit, and then let out a breathy chuckle—small, shaky, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

“i can’t really choose just one thing,” he admitted, voice quiet, careful. “but i don’t think… i could ever forget the night you defended me at the bonfire.”

you froze.

the memory came rushing back—griff’s careless, biting words, the way felix had stood there, caught off guard and unsure, trying to brush it off like it didn’t matter. but it did. you’d seen it in his eyes, in the way his jaw had clenched just a second too late. and you—without hesitation, without a second thought—had stood up for him.

felix swallowed hard. his breath came out unsteady. “i don’t think i’ll ever forget what you did for me,” he said, his gaze flickering down for half a second before meeting yours again, open and raw. “what it felt like to have someone care that much. to have you care that much.” his voice softened. “it meant a lot… more than i realized back then.”

silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, like a moment caught between what was and what could have been.

felix shifted, his fingers twitching at his sides. when he spoke again, his voice was lower, rougher. “that night… i felt so—” he exhaled sharply, like the words were catching in his throat. “i felt so loved by you.” his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “and i didn’t even know what to do with it. but it was real. and it meant more than i could ever put into words.”

your breath hitched.

then, softer, hesitant, like he was afraid of the weight of it, he said, “and later that night, when i was drunk… i told you i loved you, too.”

your stomach twisted.

“you… remember that?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

felix nodded, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. “of course i do,” he murmured. “i’ve been thinking about it all week—wondering if i could just get drunk enough again… maybe i’d finally be able to say it.” he let out a shaky breath, his lips pressing together for a beat before he added, almost helplessly, “because i don’t know how to do it sober.”

you let out a soft laugh at his choice of words, and he did too—quiet, a little breathless, like he couldn’t believe he’d just said it out loud. but the moment the laughter faded, his expression shifted. his eyes softened, filled with something deep and unspoken, something you couldn’t quite place but knew was real.

“and really…” he hesitated, just for a second, before his gaze locked onto yours with quiet certainty. “i’ve been meaning to tell you since the first night we got here.”

your breath hitched and you nodded slowly.

felix let out a shaky laugh, running a hand down his face, almost like he couldn’t believe he was saying this out loud. his voice was raw, unfiltered, like he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. “the first night i kissed you, the first night i ever held you that close—i knew. i knew then.”

your heart pounded in your ears, so loud it drowned out everything else. felix let out a shaky laugh, running a hand down his face like he couldn’t believe he was saying any of this out loud. his voice was raw, unfiltered, stripped of all the walls he usually hid behind.

“so, y/n”

you nodded, a soft, almost hesitant motion, your eyes searching his face, desperate to read the unspoken words lingering in the curve of his lips, in the way his hands clenched at his sides like he was holding himself together by a thread.

“i love you.”

the words came out raw, unpolished—nothing like the way they sounded in his head all the times he had imagined saying them. but they were real. and they were his. the words hit differently this time. not as a memory, not as a drunken slur from a night long past, but real—here, now, spoken with absolute clarity.

for a second, neither of you moved. the bus doors hissed closed, the driver glancing impatiently toward you, but it didn’t matter. all that mattered was the boy in front of you, standing there like he had just handed you his entire heart and was waiting—praying—you wouldn’t drop it.

you were too stunned, too caught in the weight of what he had just given you. your fingers trembled at your sides, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might shake your entire body.

his voice cracked, thick with something too big to swallow down. “so please, stay.” his hands twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he was allowed to. “i’ll do anything to make sure you know it, to make sure you never have to doubt it again.”

“but what about earlier—”

felix flinched, his breath hitching like the weight of his own words was crashing down on him all at once. “i didn’t mean it,” he said quickly, his voice breaking at the edges. “god, i didn’t mean any of it.”

his hands clenched at his sides before he exhaled sharply, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “i was scared, y/n. i’ve been scared this whole time. scared of screwing this up, of losing you, of feeling this much and not knowing what the hell to do with it.” his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “but losing you for real? watching you walk away just now?” his voice wavered. “that’s worse than anything i was afraid of before.”

you stared at him, your heart slamming against your ribs, your breath catching somewhere between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

felix loved you.

and all this time—through the confusion, the hurt, the way he made you think you were the only one feeling this way—he had lied. he had let you believe it wasn’t real. that it was one-sided. that you had been foolish to hope.

it was too much.

your chest ached, too tight, too full, and your mind swam with everything he had said—everything he hadn't said until now. your hands trembled at your sides, and you felt the sting of tears press against your eyes, but you refused to blink them away.

your voice was barely above a whisper. “say it again.”

felix’s lips parted slightly, his brows pulling together like he hadn’t expected that. because those were the exact words mabel had said to him once.

but you weren’t mabel.

“i need to hear it again.” your voice wavered, something raw and unsteady slipping through. “because you made me think i was wrong. that i was stupid for thinking you could ever feel this way. and i believed you, felix.” your breath hitched, and you looked at him, pleading, desperate. “so say it again.”

you weren’t asking to hear it so you could tear him apart, to humiliate him, to throw it back in his face like it meant nothing.

you wanted to hear it because you cherished it. because you wanted him to know that his words weren’t wasted this time.

that showed him the difference between you two.

a slow, almost breathless smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and when he spoke, his voice was steadier than before.

“i love you,” he said again, firmer this time. like if he said it enough, it would erase all the times he didn’t. “i love you so much, and i hate that it took me this long to tell you.” his voice cracked, raw and pleading. “but if there’s even the smallest part of you that still wants this, still wants me—” he exhaled shakily. “then stay.”

your breath shuddered as the weight of his words settled deep in your chest. it was stronger now, fuller. it sounded like something he believed—like something he knew he wouldn’t regret saying. and when he saw the way you nodded, the way you practically melted against him, he knew—he had never meant anything more.

your suitcase slipped from your grip, landing on the pavement with a dull thud. neither of you cared.

you stepped forward, closing the space between you in one heartbeat, then another, until your arms wrapped tightly around him. your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, holding on as if you’d lose yourself if you let go. and felix—he didn’t hesitate. his arms came around you instantly, locking you against him like he had been waiting for this, terrified it wouldn’t come.

his hand slid up your back, gripping the fabric of your shirt, like he needed to feel every inch of you there, solid and real. his other hand cradled the back of your head, pressing you closer as if he could make up for every second he had spent pushing you away. his heart pounded against yours, a frantic rhythm that matched the breathless way he whispered your name.

you buried your face in his neck, breathing him in, letting the warmth of his embrace settle deep in your bones. his arms tightened around you, as if he could somehow pull you even closer, as if he needed to prove to himself that you were real, that you weren’t slipping away.

slowly, you pulled back just enough to look at him, your forehead pressing gently against his. his breath hitched. his hands slid down to cradle your waist, grounding himself in your touch. and for the first time, there was no fear in his eyes. no hesitation. just you. just this.

your fingers brushed against his jaw, tracing the way his lips parted, the way his breath mingled with yours. a soft, shaky smile played at your lips as you whispered, “oh, felix… i love you too.”

day 7 - 22:00

love is terrifying.

not in the way people talk about in books and movies, not just the fear of losing someone or the ache of longing. no, the real terror of love is in the surrender. the moment you give yourself over completely, when your heart is no longer just yours to protect. when you look at someone and realize they have the power to destroy you, to unravel you with a single word, a single choice.

and yet—you still love them.

despite the risk, despite the fear, despite the way your heart stumbles at the thought of what could go wrong, you let yourself fall. because love is also the only thing that makes the fear worth it. it is the only thing strong enough to make you stay when everything in you is screaming to run.

with felix, it felt like the easiest thing in the world.

the bathroom was quiet, save for the soft hum of the fan and the rhythmic brushing of your toothbrush against your teeth. the mirror was fogged up from the shower felix had taken before you, and the scent of his shampoo lingered in the air—clean, familiar, and grounding.

he stood beside you, shirtless, his damp hair curling at the ends. he’d already finished brushing, leaning lazily against the counter as he watched you in the mirror. without a word, he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chin onto your shoulder.

"i saw how nicely you made your bed this morning," he murmured, voice slow and deliberate. his lips grazed the shell of your ear, though it was casual—like he wasn’t doing anything other than speaking. "like you knew you were leaving."

you rinsed your toothbrush and set it back in the holder, rolling your eyes. "i was leaving. that was the plan, remember?"

felix hummed, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin. "right. but now you’re staying for one more night."

there was something knowing in his voice, something that made your stomach flutter just a little. he pressed his chest more firmly against your back, his breath warm against your neck. you met his gaze in the mirror, and his smile was soft—amused, teasing, and utterly confident.

"wouldn’t it be a shame," he continued, his fingertips dancing lightly across your sides, "to go through all that effort just to sleep in it again?"

you huffed a laugh, tilting your head slightly. "what are you saying, felix?"

he sighed like it was the most obvious thing in the world, nuzzling his nose into your shoulder. "i’m just thinking practically. why mess up two beds when we could… consolidate?"

you raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. "consolidate?"

"mm." he shifted his hands to your hips, his thumbs pressing lightly into your skin, sending a wave of warmth through you. "efficient. environmentally friendly. and, you know, convenient. since i’d probably just end up dragging you into my bed at some point in the night anyway."

you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips, despite trying to remain indifferent. his charm always got to you, no matter how hard you tried to pretend you weren’t affected. his teasing was contagious, and you found yourself grinning, the warmth from his hands on your hips settling deep into you.

"consolidate, huh?" you said, "sounds like a very felix solution."

he grinned in return, clearly pleased with himself. "it’s a genius solution," he teased, his voice low and coaxing as he leaned closer, the proximity of his body sending a shiver through you. "so, yes? you’ll sleep with me tonight?"

his question was soft but undeniably hopeful, the weight of it resting between you like a promise and a challenge all at once.

you met his eyes, trying to keep your tone playful but firm. "yes, but," you added, lifting a finger to emphasize your point, "this better not be a regular thing." you gave him a mock glare, your voice softening.

felix chuckled, eyes warm with something deeper than amusement. “i know,” he said, his voice gentle but certain.

you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. it was easy to forget, sometimes, when he looked at you like that—like you were the only thing in the world worth waiting for. but you both knew where you stood, and that mattered more than fleeting temptation.

he gave you one last grin before stepping back, stretching lazily as he turned toward his bedroom. “i’ll be good. promise.”

“mm-hmm.” you narrowed your eyes at him, pretending to consider his words. “you better be.”

you watched him go, shaking your head at the small bounce in his step.

the moment felix was out of sight, you let out a slow breath, pressing your palms against the bathroom counter. the mirror was still fogged, the scent of him still lingering in the air, wrapping around you like a presence you couldn’t shake.

your fingers curled slightly against the cool surface, your pulse steadying. you should be happy. you were happy. today, felix had finally told you he loved you. soft. certain. like he meant it with every part of him.

and yet.

you swallowed, staring at your reflection—at the way your expression had shifted now that he was gone. the doubt was creeping in again, just like it always did when you were alone with your thoughts.

why had it taken him so long?

it wasn’t that you doubted his feelings. you felt them in the way he looked at you, in the way he touched you like he was memorizing every inch of your skin, in the way he always found some excuse to keep you close. but love—real love—wasn’t just in the moments that felt easy. it was in the hard ones too. and felix had waited. too long.

your mind drifted back to what chris had told you yesterday, like he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up at all. the words had stuck with you, curling into the back of your mind like a whisper you couldn’t shake.

he had mentioned her offhandedly, but the way he said her name—the way his expression darkened, the way he hesitated—made it clear that she wasn’t just an ex-girlfriend. there was something heavier there, something left unsaid.

you hadn’t asked for more. maybe because you didn’t want to know.

but now, standing in this quiet bathroom, your mind wouldn't let it go.

what if there was something there?

you closed your eyes, inhaling slowly. you didn’t want to ruin this. you didn’t want to doubt him. you swallowed hard, your fingers twitching against the cool porcelain of the sink.

asking him outright would be the easiest thing. the right thing.

but something inside you hesitated.

felix had never given you a reason to doubt him—not really. he had always been patient, always looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth seeing. but this? this was the one thing he hadn’t told you, the one piece of him that felt just out of reach.

you had to do something.

your hand slipped into the pocket of your pants before you could think better of it. the smooth surface of your phone pressed against your palm as you pulled it out, staring at the screen like it might give you an answer before you even asked the question.

this felt wrong.

you told yourself that immediately. you weren’t the kind of person who did this. you weren’t the kind of person who went looking for things they weren’t meant to find.

but girls did it all the time, didn’t they?

how many times had you heard the stories—friends scrolling through messages, checking followers, searching for the proof they needed before they could believe in something? and if they found nothing, wasn’t that just as much of an answer?

so why couldn’t you?

your heart pounded in your ears as you unlocked your phone, your thumb hovering over it.

instagram. felix’s account. search bar.

mabel.

and then, there she was.

mabel whitmore.

your stomach tightened as you tapped on the profile, barely breathing as her page loaded.

her account was public. and she was stunning.

the kind of stunning that made your breath catch in your throat. golden hair cascading in soft waves over tanned shoulders, sharp cheekbones, full lips, the kind of eyes that could level a person with just one glance. a total bombshell—effortless, untouchable. the kind of girl people wrote songs about.

you scrolled down, taking in the perfectly framed snapshots of her life. beaches, city lights, sunlit selfies, arms slung around groups of friends. and felix—

your thumb froze over the screen.

you almost didn’t recognize him at first—his hair was a little shorter, falling messily over his forehead, his face slightly softer with youth. he wasn’t the focus of the picture, just sitting off to the side on some worn leather couch, arm draped lazily over the backrest, a bottle dangling from his fingers. but it was him.

and she hadn’t deleted it.

you knew how these things usually went. people erased their exes like wiping fingerprints off glass. they archived the memories, pretended they had never existed, let time do the rest.

you ignored the way your stomach twisted and kept scrolling.

her most recent post caught your eye.

it wasn’t anything flashy. just a candid shot—her sitting on a picnic blanket, sunlight spilling over her, a half-empty wine glass in her hand, laughing at something outside the frame. carefree. beautiful. alive.

the timestamp at the bottom read that it was posted two years ago. she hadn’t posted since.

your brows knit together. that didn’t make sense. a girl like this, someone who lived in front of the camera, someone so effortlessly captivating—why would she just stop?

you flicked to the comments, looking for a reason. an explanation.

"miss you every day, mabel. fly high, angel."

"thinking about you always."

"not a day goes by where i don’t wish we had more time."

your breath caught in your throat.

no.

your thumb kept scrolling, scanning through comment after comment, but they all said the same thing. miss you. love you. wish you were still here.

mabel whitmore wasn’t just felix’s ex.

she was gone.

your chest felt tight, like the air had been sucked out of the room. you should stop. you should put your phone down, walk away, pretend you never saw any of this.

but you couldn’t. because now you had to know.

you swallowed hard and did the one thing you knew you shouldn’t do. you opened your web browser.

your fingers moved on their own, typing mabel whitmore into the search bar, the letters blurring together as your vision wavered. your heart pounded, your pulse echoing in your ears as you hit search.

it loaded instantly.

her name appeared at the top of the page, bold and unmistakable. but it wasn’t an article, or a social media profile, or anything remotely normal.

it was a memorial site.

your stomach dropped.

the header at the top read in loving memory: flight 417

you stared, unable to process it.

a list of names stretched down the page, each one followed by a small candle icon, flickering gently as if trying to soften the harsh reality of what they represented.

your eyes skimmed past name after name, and then—

mabel whitmore. age 16.

the world around you seemed to tilt.

a flight. a plane crash.

your brain scrambled to catch up, trying to recall if you had ever heard about it. it must have been in the news. it must have been something people talked about. but for some reason, right now, it felt like a secret. a quiet, buried tragedy you were never meant to stumble upon.

a trembling breath left your lips.

your chest tightened as you scrolled back up, rereading the words, like maybe they would rearrange themselves and tell you a different story. but they didn’t. the truth was right there, staring back at you in flickering candlelight.

a deep breath shuddered through you, but it did nothing to settle the nausea curling in your stomach. you felt dizzy, like you’d stepped off the edge of something without realizing it.

your fingers clenched around your phone, your breath shallow and uneven.

sixteen.

she was only sixteen.

your mind reeled, the pieces snapping together too fast for you to hold onto them.

mabel whitmore had never broken up with felix. she had been taken. just gone, ripped from the world like a page torn from a book, leaving only silence where she should have been.

and felix—

oh, god.

felix.

you had completely forgotten where you were.

the bathroom was too quiet, the soft hum of the fan the only thing keeping you tethered to the present. your reflection in the mirror looked different now—your skin paler, your eyes too wide, your lips parted like you were about to say something but couldn’t find the words.

felix was out there.

just a few steps away, waiting in his bedroom, probably sprawled across the sheets like he always did, looking at his phone or staring at the ceiling, lost in some thought he’d never say out loud. he was waiting for you.

but you couldn’t go back.

because how could you look him in the eye now, knowing what you knew? knowing that you had dug into his past like it was some puzzle to be solved instead of a wound that had never fully healed? he would hate you. he would think you were awful. nosy. invasive.

and maybe he’d be right.

you squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the edge of the sink.

you weren’t supposed to know this.

you weren’t supposed to find this.

but now, you couldn’t forget it. you couldn’t erase it, couldn’t pretend you hadn’t seen her name on that list, hadn’t read the comments, hadn’t imagined what it must have been like for felix to wake up in a world without her in it.

a deep breath shuddered through you.

you couldn’t even begin to imagine that kind of pain.

you glanced at the door.

you had to go back out there. you couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever. but for the first time, being near felix felt terrifying.

you shoved your phone deep into your pocket like that could somehow bury everything you had just uncovered. screw it. you turned off the bathroom light and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, your heartbeat still uneven, your breath still not quite steady.

felix’s bedroom door was open.

and there he was.

he was lying back against the headboard, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting lazily across his stomach. his shirt had ridden up just slightly, exposing a sliver of skin, and his legs were sprawled comfortably like he owned the space.

the soft glow of the bedside lamp cast warm shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his lips.

felix turned his head at the sound of you stepping inside, his eyes finding yours instantly. smiling like seeing you was the best part of his night.

“hi,” he said, voice warm.

you hesitated for just a second, but then you forced yourself to move, to push away the whirlwind of thoughts still spinning in your mind. you had to—at least for now.

felix's smile softened as he lifted a hand, beckoning you closer with a slow, lazy gesture. "come here, baby," he murmured, his voice low and coaxing. the way he said it—so easy, so sure—sent warmth curling through your chest, unraveling you before you even reached the bed.

you exhaled, pressing a small smile to your lips as you crossed the room. you couldn’t let him see the weight of what you had just learned—not yet. not when you didn’t even know what to do with it yourself.

when you reached the edge of the bed, felix reached for you. his fingers brushed against your wrist first, then slipped up to your elbow, tugging you forward. you let yourself go, let yourself sink into the space beside him, the mattress dipping beneath your weight.

he shifted, looping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his side. "much better," he sighed, content. his hand found the small of your back, tracing slow, lazy circles against the fabric of your shirt, grounding you in the warmth of him.

your feet brushed against his legs, ice-cold against his skin, and he tensed for a second before letting out a dramatic groan.

“you’re so cold,” he grumbled, which made you chuckle.

felix huffed a laugh, but then he did something that made your heart stutter. he reached down, wrapping his fingers around your ankle, and pulled your leg over his, tangling them together under the blankets. his palm smoothed up the back of your thigh, rubbing slow, lazy circles into your skin.

"there," he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. "i'll warm you up."

your stomach flipped.

he wasn’t even trying. that was the worst part. felix had this effortless way of touching you, of making you feel wanted without even thinking about it. like it was second nature. like it had always been this easy for him.

and then—like he could still sense the tension in you, the hesitation you hadn’t quite managed to shake—he pulled back just enough to tilt his head and look at you.

his eyes were soft in the dim light, his expression open in that way that always made it impossible to hide from him. his fingers found your jaw, tracing the line of it with the lightest touch before tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"hey," he said, his voice quieter now, steadier. "what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?"

you swallowed hard. "nothing," you lied.

felix studied you for a moment, his thumb brushing absently over the corner of your mouth, like he was committing the feel of you to memory. then, with an infuriatingly knowing look, he murmured, "liar."

your breath caught.

there were those questions lingering at the back of your mind, but you decided they could wait. for now, it was enough to be here, wrapped in his warmth, his fingers tracing over your skin like you were something precious.

"i couldn't be better, felix," you murmured.

his brows lifted slightly, like he was trying to decide if he believed you. but then his lips curled into a smile, and whatever hesitation had been there melted away.

"good," he whispered, his voice all honey and warmth.

and then, just as effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he said, "i love you."

you swallowed around the warmth rising in your throat, your heart pounding against your ribs.

"i love you too."

the words had barely left your lips before felix was kissing you. a soft, almost relieved sigh slipped from him, like he had been waiting to hear you say it, like those words had settled something deep inside him.

his lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate sweetness at first—like he was savoring the moment, letting it sink into his bones. his fingers curled at the nape of your neck, keeping you close, tilting your head just the way he wanted.

when he deepened it, the shift was subtle, but you felt it. the way his hand tightened against your back, pulling you flush against him. the way his fingers slid into your hair, his grip just firm enough to make you shiver.

your hands found his shoulders, sliding up to tangle in the fabric of his shirt as he kissed you deeper, his lips parting against yours, his tongue teasing at the seam of your mouth. heat pooled low in your stomach, making your head spin.

you kissed him back without thinking, without hesitation, matching the slow, desperate rhythm he set. each press of his lips was intoxicating, like he was drinking you in, like he had no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

his fingers traced your spine, dipping beneath the hem of your shirt, brushing over bare skin. the warmth of his touch sent a shiver rippling through you, a soft gasp slipping from your lips.

his hand splayed across your waist now, his palm broad and warm as he smoothed over your skin, his touch deliberate but unhurried. it was different tonight—he was different. softer in some ways, more certain in others. like something had settled between you after yesterday morning, after the way you'd lost yourselves in each other, tangled up in sheets and heat and need.

and now, that need was creeping in again, simmering just beneath the surface.

felix shifted slightly, the movement subtle, but you felt it—the press of him, firm against your thigh, unmistakable. your breath hitched, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt, and for a second, neither of you moved. the moment stretched, heavy with something unspoken, something thick in the air between you.

his lips lingered against yours, barely a breath away, his forehead brushing against you. and then, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, exactly what you were feeling, his fingers tightened against your waist.

"feel that?" he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher.

your pulse pounded. you nodded, not trusting your voice.

felix's fingers flexed against your waist, his touch grounding, steady—but your heart was anything but.

normally, you’d want this. you’d want him. you’d be pulling him closer, melting into him, aching for more. but tonight, it felt different. wrong.

not because of him.

because of what you’d learned.

the weight of it pressed into your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs, making the warmth between you feel like something you weren’t sure you were allowed to have. his ex-girlfriend was dead. and you didn’t know what that meant, not really, but it sat heavy in your stomach, twisting and knotting, making everything else feel distant.

felix kissed you again, softer this time, coaxing, like he could sense the shift in you. his thumb traced slow circles against your ribs, patient, unhurried. "hey," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. his eyes searched yours, their usual warmth still there, but now there was something else, too—concern.

"you okay?"

you swallowed, trying to find words, but your throat felt too tight. you weren’t okay. you weren’t sure how to be.

felix’s hand moved to your cheek, cradling it gently, his thumb brushing over your skin. "talk to me, baby," he coaxed, his voice so soft, so careful, like he already knew something was wrong. "what’s going on?"

your chest ached. you wanted to tell him. you didn’t want to tell him.

because once you did, it would be real.

and you weren’t ready for real. not yet.

felix’s brows knit together, the warmth in his eyes shifting into something deeper, something worried. you tried to blink back the sting in your eyes, but it was useless—the guilt was pressing down too hard, too fast, and before you could stop it, your vision blurred.

his thumb brushed over your cheek again, softer this time, like he was afraid you might break. "baby," he murmured, barely above a whisper. "did i—" he hesitated, his throat working around the words, his fingers flexing against your waist. "did i make you uncomfortable?"

you shook your head quickly, but the movement made the lump in your throat tighten, and then—

the first sob broke free.

felix inhaled sharply, his grip on you loosening, like he was afraid of holding on too tight. "shit," he whispered, his other hand coming up, hovering just over your arm, like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you. "hey, hey, it’s okay—just tell me what’s wrong. i—" he swallowed hard, his voice going unsteady. "do you want me to leave? i can take the couch. you can stay here, and if you don’t want this, if this feels wrong, i’ll—" his voice cracked slightly. "i’ll do anything. just tell me what you need."

you shook your head again, harder this time, and before he could pull away any further, you reached for him, your arms wrapping around him tight, desperate.

"no," you choked out, pressing your face against his shoulder. "it’s not that. it’s not you."

felix went still for half a second, like he was trying to understand—but then, without hesitation, his arms came around you. he held you close, pressing his cheek against the top of your head, his breath uneven as he tried to steady you, or maybe himself.

your fingers curled into the back of his shirt, clinging to him, like you could hold onto him tight enough to keep the guilt from swallowing you whole. "i’m sorry," you whispered, voice breaking.

felix exhaled slowly, his hands smoothing over your back, grounding. "for what?" he asked, voice careful, like he didn’t want to push too hard. "talk to me, baby."

you just shook your head, burying yourself against him, unable to find the words.

felix didn’t press. he just held you tighter, rubbing slow, soothing circles over your spine, letting you break apart in his arms, even though you knew he didn’t understand why.

even though you weren’t sure how to tell him.

felix’s arms tightened around you, as if he was anchoring you to him, trying to keep you from slipping away into the storm of thoughts you couldn’t escape. his voice was a soft murmur against your ear, the words tentative but filled with care. "do you want to stay here?"

you nodded against him, your breath shaky, the tears still hot on your cheeks. the question wasn’t a surprise—it felt like he knew you, like he understood without needing you to say the words.

his hand smoothed through your hair, gentle, almost reverent. "it’s okay," he whispered. "you can tell me about it tomorrow. just... breathe."

you squeezed your eyes shut, the sound of his voice a lifeline, grounding you in the moment, pulling you back from the edge. "i’m so sorry," you said again, almost in a whisper, your voice thick with the weight of everything you couldn’t explain.

felix shushed you softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "it’s okay," he repeated, his voice low and soothing, the words a balm for the mess of emotions you didn’t know how to deal with. "you don’t have to apologize. i’m here."

his fingers traced along your spine, slow and steady, as if giving you the space to breathe, to feel what you needed to feel. there was no pressure, no rush—just him, holding you, letting you break if you had to.

felix exhaled softly, his hand moving in slow circles over your back as you rested against him. "it’s okay," he said once more, his tone gentle, reassuring. "we’ll be okay."

and for the first time that night, you believed it.

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