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sweet-as-an-angel · 7 months

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how about yan!dilf finding out that his darling has an onlyfans account?

Yandere DILF! Reaction to You Having an OnlyFans

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Manipulation, Blackmail, Infidelity, Pet Names, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Wordcount: 4364 words

♡ Good Lord, WHO gave this man internet access.

♡ Going to keep it real with you, babe, you’re finished if he finds your OnlyFans account. And so is he (in more ways than one) – but more on that later.

♡ Let’s say Domninic’s many, many hours of internet sleuthing (stalking) have led him to the pearly gates of your Only Fans account, the only thing separating him from whatever lies on the other side being a pay wall. One of the only kinds of walls that can’t stop Dominic.

♡ Of course, he buys a subscription. Of course, he does it under an alias, through an unlisted online banking app, on a burner laptop.

♡ And, upon seeing what you’re offering, he’s glad he took so many precautions.

♡ At first, the two emotions Dominic has felt most commonly throughout his lifetime flash in his ribcage, dance along the edge of his eyelids – make his eyes grow heavy.

♡ Lust and rage.

♡ Lust for the obvious. Rage for that which shouldn’t have angered Dominic.

♡ In a lot of ways, Dominic is a traditionalist; one’s significant other is for their partner and nobody else (even if Dominic doesn’t abide by this logic himself). Thus, to see you, the person he wishes he’d married, the person he knows is fated to be his, spreading their legs for any guy with enough money to buy a coffee, mortifies him.

♡ One, because you’re his. Two, because you sell yourself for such a low price.

♡ Dominic’s too wrapped up in his wrath to see to the vague throbbing between his legs. He’ll just make it Marilyn’s problem later when she returns from book club or whatever it is she does these days – and continue to make it her problem well into the morning when she struggles to emerge from bed, her legs buckling beneath the weight of his anger.

♡ For now, he paces around his office, checks the camera inside the bear he’d given to you months before.

♡ How had he not noticed sooner? He watched the footage from that bear enough times that he can recite everything you’ve ever said, can predict everything you’re going to do, has memorised all the unconscious quirks you adopt when you think no one’s watching.

♡ Dominic comes to the conclusion that you must be conducting your business in another location. One where you won’t be so easily found.

♡ Sure, he could go out, follow you to this location when you think you’re alone. He could even pay someone else to do it. But, amidst his rage, an idea sparks.

♡ No, he has a much better, much more cunning trick up his sleeve.

♡ The next day, Dominic comes to you with an offer he knows you can’t refuse.

♡ “Marilyn and I are going out tomorrow night and we’d like for you to babysit the boys for us.”

♡ You tried to refuse. You tried to make up a reason less nefarious than the one you held in your mind as to why you couldn’t do it. And Dominic only smiled, his eyes never crinkling, the sentiment never reaching them. He looked through you.

♡ He offered to raise your pay to an amount you both couldn’t accept and couldn’t pass up.

♡ This newfound amount was, considering how few subscribers you had on OnlyFans, irresistible. A godsend, in some respects. Especially when Dominic began taking his wife out more and more frequently, needing you to care for his children more often than not.

♡ To Marilyn, Dominic was finally, finally, trying to fix their marriage. To make good on the world he’d promised her those twenty-or-so years ago when he’d imprisoned her in a loveless marriage.

♡ To you, Dominic was being an understanding neighbour who was offering you a chance at a normal living wage out of the kindness of his heart.

♡ To Dominic, it was all a ploy to get you right where he wants you.

♡ The weeks passed. Dominic kept a close eye on your OnlyFans page.

♡ It would soon be time for you to upload your newest batch of material. If you ever found the time to do so, of course. What, with all the extra work Dominic had given you, he wouldn’t be surprised if you’d forgotten. Or simply hadn’t the time.

♡ It mattered little to Dominic now. He knew he had you on the ropes.

♡ The shift from one foot to the other as he offered you yet another night to babysit his boys, only for your eyes to lower. Uneasy.

♡ You’d tried the old “I’m sorry, Mr. Laurier–”

♡ “Please, (Y/N), we’ve been over this.” He smiles down at you. “Call me Dominic.”

♡ You try again.

♡ “Dominic – I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to tonight–”

♡ And Dominic used the tried and tested: “Oh…is it the pay? I can pay you more, if that’s the issue–”

♡ Issue. You’re making a problem out of this, not him.

♡ You backpedal. You sigh. You try to stand your ground.

♡ Unfortunately for you, the ground you’re standing on is merely a sheet Dominic is going to pull out from under you at any moment.

♡ You tried. Really, you did. Tried to reject Dominic’s kindness.

♡ And he looks down at you. He’s too beautiful for a grimace, he knows this. He puts on a mask he’s sculpted just for this moment – the false front.

♡ “I see,” he says, his voice low. His gaze shifts off to the side. He pretends to look for the right words to say. He already has them in his back pocket.

♡ “I understand. It’s just that…well…” He sighs. Places a hand on his hip. A change in posture. Something’s shifted about him. You’re paying attention, the oncoming of regret starting to form in the pit of your stomach.

♡ Dominic looks you dead in the eyes.

♡ “Don’t…tell anyone I told you this,” he looks behind him. Turns back to you. “But, Marilyn and I don’t really trust anyone else with our babies – we only keep asking you because…well, you’re brilliant with them.”

♡ He says it like it’s common sense. Flattery is every manipulator’s best friend.

♡ He senses reservation in you. He keeps going.

♡ “And…no, forget it, it’s fine. We’ll just cancel,” he smiles down at you. This time, the smile does reach his eyes. Makes it look like he’s hiding something else. Sorrow.

♡ You gasp inwardly, you take a step towards him.

♡ “Oh, I’m sorry! No, no, I can watch them tonight. I’ll just…do my work tomorrow,”

vYou try to smile. Dominic’s becomes genuine.

♡ “You sure? We–” Marilyn and I, halve the blame– “wouldn’t want to be keeping you from anything important.”

♡ You assure him they aren’t. That he isn’t. He’s won this round.

♡ He puts his hand on your shoulder. You’ve known each other long enough now that this is no longer a gesture that would inflict upon Dominic a problem he’d be lumbered with until he can, quite literally, take it into his own hands, and that you don’t flinch beneath his touch.

♡ There will be time enough for that. He knows this.

♡ And so, Dominic leaves you with an estimation of the time of his outing and his arrival.

♡ “We’ll be back before you know it,” he says. He smiles at you from the front door, the handle in his grip. He leaves, his victory ringing in his head, making his heart thrum.

♡ And he didn’t even need to bust out the old ‘My marriage is failing’ shtick.

♡ True to his word, Dominic and his wife leave early into the evening, a rehash of their sons’ bedtimes and snack preferences no longer necessary. Second nature to you now.

♡ Your work – your OnlyFans content – played on your mind for the whole evening. Time seemed to slip away and stand still – paradoxy – as you pleaded inwardly for Dominic and Marilyn to return.

♡ The hours bled into one another, tearing away from what you could have been doing instead of guarding the house while Marilyn’s children slept upstairs, for truly they were more Marilyn’s offspring than they were Dominic’s.

♡ A half hour passed. Forty-five minutes. An hour.

♡ You came to face the possibility – the likely reality – that you would simply have to announce to the few followers you had that there would be no new content this month; that you would supply them with what they paid for twice over in a few weeks’ time. And pray that you actually had an audience patient enough to outlast your absence before that.

♡ Amidst your planning of damage control, an idea poked its head from the shadows. A failsafe. A sequel to your desperation.

♡ You could always just…take a few pictures here.

♡ The idea flashed in your mind like a life alternate to your own; past, with the certainty of already having been lived. All consequences already tangible. Foreseen.

♡ Perhaps that was why the anxiety associated with such expeditions into unfamiliarity had failed to catch up with you.

♡ Or, perhaps something masked it. Desperation, or one of its subsidiaries.

♡ Of course, you tried to stifle the idea. Tried to suffocate it with the smoke through which it walked. Though, its fiery grasp had mastered the art of survival.

♡ It wouldn’t go away. Much like Dominic’s lingering gaze whenever his wife was out of eye-shot and only you remained.

♡ Ten minutes crawled by and you almost wished for the rapidity with which the last hours had passed to find you, seek you out amidst this frozen landscape Time had entombed you in.

♡ And, as is the folly of man, you entertained that which should not be. You considered the likelihood – the schematics – of indulging such a proposition.

♡ Nobody was home and the boys were asleep, out of the way. Most rooms were large enough and devoid of personality so to mask your location – especially if the Lauriers had more of the sterile white sheets they laid their bed with.

♡ Then, a memory.

♡ A basement, tucked away between the folds of your psyche as its location within the house. You recalled the couple having one – a sizable one at that – when Dominic had invited you down there with him to retrieve more seating for his lawn party.

♡ You knew where it was. Knew where the keys were kept.

♡ And so, with a hammering heart and a withering step, you sought your fortune.

♡ The keys were easily enough discovered. As was the creaking door of the basement. And, upon your descension – biblical in your visage as the light from the hallway, dim as it were, cast a glow about your silhouette amidst the depths of the basement – you found precisely what you needed.

♡ A space – clean, untouched – equipped with white sheets covering a mass of boxes. Sure, they were creased; stained with Age’s attempts at youth, gripping onto the sheets and leaving his spectral marks – wrinkles – in their cotton-thin sheets, but they were there.

♡ You cast a keen ear to the ceiling, the living room floor, every few minutes as you looked for a place to start filming, a place to lay the sheets down, something to cover your face.

♡ You find a place, retrieve a Halloween mask from one of the boxes, and, without much deliberation, begin filming.

♡ What you do is nobody’s business but your own. Well, yours and the hungry men who survey your account for any crumbs you deign to feed them.

♡ What you don’t hear through the conduct of your business is the return of the home’s owner.

♡ Dominic hung up his coat, made little show of announcing his presence, and went straight for the basement.

♡ Don’t ask how he knew you’d be there.

♡ His steps grew more deliberate, louder, the closer he grew.

♡ You didn’t even know he was home until it was too late.

♡ At the height of your percussion, just when you were about to reach the moment of your video that would make the lead up worth it, something hit the floor behind you.

♡ You jumped. Whipped round to see what had happened.

♡ And there was Dominic. Hair black as the corners of the room, eyes void of any discernible emotion as he looked down at you, arms crossed over his chest, the top of his shirt undone by two buttons, not even out of his work clothes.

♡ You fumbled, the apologies, explanations and defences lodged in your throat as you choked to get them out, slamming your thighs together and reaching for the camera in your bid to shut it down. You tore the mask from your head, revealing blushed cheeks and a light sheen of sweat forming from the neck up.

♡ Dominic made sure to stay out of the camera’s line of sight, to remain only an anonymous spectator as he circled the room. He said nothing. Did nothing. Just watched and waited, walking.

♡ It was only after he knew the camera was off, your confidence in tatters around you, that he approached.

♡ You tried explaining, but he just shushed you.

♡ “No need to explain, my Dear,” he told you. He sighed, deeply, brought the corner of his lip between his teeth. He donned the veneer of disappointment.

♡ “I suppose I’m just…shocked,” he said. He leaned against a stack of boxes, solid against his back. He ran a hand through his hair and looked off somewhere. “I never knew you were…that kind of person,”

♡ The way he said that, like it had bleached his tongue just to speak it, made your heart sink lower.

♡ “I mean, what do we do now?” He made sure he gave you an incredulous glance, feigned disappointed abashment. “I pay you to look after my sons and I find you here, doing…” He looked to the camera, briefly, then away. As if he could still see what you had done on the tiny screen attached to it.

♡ You apologised profusely, tried to defend yourself: “Mr. Laurier, please – I didn’t– I never–”

♡ He didn’t interrupt you. He let you tie yourself in knots. Like a pretty present, all for him.

♡ Once you had exhausted your ability to explain yourself, Dominic let your fear hang for a moment, let it sink before you like a darkness bowing the ceiling above you. The singular lightbulb flickered.

♡ Dominic sighed. Pushed off the boxes. Came to you.

♡ “Honestly, (Y/N), if you were that desperate for money, you could’ve just asked.”

♡ He knew that wasn’t why you were doing this. But he also knew you’d accept whatever out he gave you. You listened.

♡ “Have I not been paying you enough? Have I misvalued your capabilities for this position?”

♡ The way his eyes flickered to your locked-together legs as he said position made your skin shiver.

♡ “Or…” he looked down on you. Relaxed his posture.

♡ “Is there perhaps some other reason you chose to…conduct yourself here?”

♡ When you didn’t answer, trying to decode his crypticism, he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side.

♡ “Could it be that you…wanted me to find you like this?”

♡ You tried to deny it, tried your utmost to say you’d never do such a thing to anyone, least of all your married neighbour and employer, but Dominic would hear none of it.

♡ “I’m flattered, really.” He says. He cast his eyes down, as if mulling over a secret. “My wife and I’s deteriorating marriage must be worse than I thought if it was so apparent to you of all people.”

♡ You knew such a comment, especially under these circumstances, shouldn’t have stung the way it did. Dominic only let you ruminate on it for a moment.

♡ “Maybe you wanted to show me something you knew Marilyn couldn’t.”

♡ Your jaw dropped. Dominic came to stand behind the camera. He toyed with it, general, not looking at anything in particular. You begged that he wouldn’t find a way to review the footage.

♡ Domonic stood back, looked down at you.

♡ “How about a compromise,” he offered. You watched him, eyes wide, heart pounding, stomach churning, breath short. He gave a pale smile.

♡ “You help me burn off some of the tension I’ve had building up over the last few weeks,” his eyes darkened. “And we’ll never speak a word of what happened here tonight.”

♡ Your words caught in your throat again.

♡ You knew Dominic was attractive, sure, but to help him cheat on his wife? And one so kind and loving as Marilyn–

♡ Your head span. Dominic had thrown you a lifeline.

♡ With a sigh, you evaluated your options.

♡ Your OnlyFans rarely made enough money to keep you financially independent, even for a short while; you had more to lose if you couldn’t keep your babysitting job. And you knew there was no chance Dominic would let you babysit again if he thought this was what you’d be doing during the dark hours of the evening.

♡ And what if he told Marilyn? What if she told their neighbours, your parents–

♡ In your vulnerability, your worry for your own preservation, you quietly agreed.

♡ And besides, you rationalised with yourself as the weight of the situation, of Dominic settling behind you, sank in. Better for Marilyn that he’s doing this with me rather than someone she doesn’t know, right?

♡ Given your bottom half was already bare, Dominic didn’t have to waste time undressing you himself. Though, under any other circumstances, he’d have jumped at the privilege.

♡ He’d often dreamed of this entire process being slower, gentler, and in the comfort of a bed in some lush space – usually a hotel. Not the sheet-covered ground of his cold basement.

♡ That evening, the mask Dominic wore was that of the common thief, for from you he stole your dignity. Your future.

♡ What you hadn’t realised was, as Dominic had been stood by the camera, he’d set it to record. Premeditated.

♡ You didn’t question why he pulled the mask from beside you onto his head. You just assumed, in your post-panic haze, that this was something he was into. Something he hid from Marilyn.

♡ Dominic still wore his work pants and had them pulled down to the bottom of his thighs. He’d also done away with his shirt from what you could feel of his skin; he radiated heat like you’d never felt before, even when you’d been in close proximity to him prior to this.

♡ You didn’t even have chance to think of much, to let the guilt and abashment of this whole situation weigh in on you as, with Dominic’s hands about your waist as if to steady you, he pushed in, filling you by an inch or two.

♡ You were easy to penetrate given your recent activity, but that only served to quell the stretch by a slight margin. You gasped, jolted, and Dominic’s grip about your middle tightened. He pulled you back, inadvertently pushing more of himself into you. You bit your lip, trying not to enjoy the mortifying implications of this entire affair, the feeling of being filled by the man who held your future in his hands.

♡ He was, regardless of whether you’d done this before, nothing like you’d ever experienced. He alternated between being gentle and rough, eventually lodging himself inside you entirely and guiding you up and down his shaft at a rate that suggested patience. Just a minute later, he’d pick up the pace, pulling out and slamming back in, pushing you down so he could reach the deeper parts of you.

♡ And all the while, you could feel a tightness below your stomach. One which, to your panic, strengthened whenever you considered that you were helping a married man cheat on his wife, that your situation was buried beneath so many layers of complexity you feared you’d never see the light of clarity again.

♡ A married man. One who, if his soft touches and stifled moans were anything to go by, held rather a fondness for you in this moment.

♡ Dominic didn’t talk at all throughout the entire encounter, opting only to communicate with an occasional squeeze to your thighs, reaching around to your front to touch you in ways that had you whining and crying, and tugs to your hair whenever you tried to hide your face in your hands.

♡ The whole sordid affair hadn’t unfolded exactly how Dominic had wished – dreamed – it would.

♡ In his dreams, it had been gentler – consistently so. More private. Though, no less taboo.

♡ Now, he was harsher. Rough, though not enough to hurt you. Just enough to make sure you felt every inch of him; just what these subscribers of yours would pay to see.

♡ Dominic pressed close to you as the camera recorded, your face exposed for whoever came into possession of the video to see.

♡ Of course, so long as you remained an obedient little pet, Dominic would never have to release it to anyone.

♡ The transaction, one which left you breathless and sweltering, finished only when Dominic did. He made sure you were satiated, too, something to think about over the coming weeks as you curated more content for your subscribers, every moment no doubt a reminder of your encounter with him.

♡ Afterwards, he removed himself, though with much hesitance. He’d finally, finally attained that which he wanted most – you – and yet it hadn’t been under the circumstances he’d romanticised for so long.

♡ He tried not to think about it, storing it with the rest of the undesirable humanisms he had locked away elsewhere in his psyche. He focussed only on how explosive it had felt, how…alive he was in comparison to all the other times he’d been with someone, using them as nothing more than a mannequin to pump himself with rather than someone to give himself to.

♡ He let you lie on the floor, a blanket draped over you as he sorted himself out. He clicked the camera off, took out the memory card and kept it firmly attached to his palm – all while you weren’t looking, weren’t listening, senses still dazed with all Dominic had given you, done to you.

♡ As he removed the mask, there was a sheen to his skin and a passive glint in his smile that suggested something inhuman and false about him. Something you discovered too late, it would seem.

♡ After that evening, you had no choice but to continue on as if nothing had happened. For so long as Dominic was in possession of that night – that memory card – nothing had. You, of course, knew nothing of the card at first. Not until Dominic had let it slip that the camera had been rolling the entire time.

♡ And still, you didn’t question his use of the mask. The serendipitous timing of it all. You could hardly breathe for the ocean boiling in your stomach, your heart bleaching white and your brain paling as you realised you’d just filmed a sex tape that could ruin not just your life, but Dominic’s too.

♡ Oh, if only you knew just how little Dominic cared.

♡ Dominic told you not to worry, that he’d salvaged the memory card and put it somewhere safe only to now return it to you.

♡ He’d duplicated the video, of course. That, he kept somewhere even safer.

♡ Sure, he’d allowed you to upload it to your account when you asked him with wide eyes, your face blurred and his figure already unrecognisable to any of your simps. You still needed content, after all, so why not profit off your late-night tryst with your neighbour?

♡ Which was what led you to come to him now, eyes downcast as he stood before you, arms crossed, smile ready to split his face in half and reveal the parasites that made up his interior.

♡ The truth you gave him? Your account had garnered a great deal of traction since your…uploaded encounter. About three thousand new subscribers, to be exact.

♡ “Oh?” Dominic offered. “And why are you telling me this, mon Chèr? Do you plan on splitting your earnings with me?”

♡ He graced you with his charm, his humour. Tried keeping the situation light.

♡ A redness rolled across your face. Dominic smiled, slim and sly, and allowed you to foster his silence, his attention.

♡ You suggested filming something else. Something that could make the guilt you felt for your last encounter with him feel half worth it.

♡ Nothing ever would, of course. But you could at least try.

♡ And so began a lustrous alliance between yourself and Dominic, the man who had once been your neighbour, then your employer, now your owner.

♡ He used you as he pleased, donned the mask and bent you over under the guise of being the conduit for your growing fanbase. In reality, the scorching, pulsating, blistering reality you inhabited with him, you were his. His star who he made and will break when he sees fit.

♡ So long as he had that memory card, and the growing catalogue of blackmail you keep adding to in your bid to chase what you thought was the weight of your self-worth in cash, you were his.

♡ Infidelitous, yes. But that mattered little to Dominic. Nothing mattered more now that he had you in his hands, whimpering for him, coming undone for him, all while he maintained the safe anonymity of both his mask and the façade of a loving, caring family man.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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helaintoloki · 1 month

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can you do a five x reader where in the season finale of s3 you don’t come out of the elevator and five is devastated so he does anything in his power to found you again but when he does you’ve clearly moved on

a/n: so i couldn’t come up with an explanation for why reader would just move on instead of looking for five so i added an extra layer to this request

warnings: angst

summary: after being separated in the new timeline, Five does everything in his power to find you only to realize he’s too late

He couldn’t believe he’d finally done it.

After three years of searching, three years of following false leads and dead ends, three years of tearing himself apart trying to fix the mess his father and Allison had created, he’d found you.

Five could never put into words how much he loved you and how much of an effect you had on his entire being. You were the girl from his childhood, his first and only love that he fought tirelessly to get back to when stranded in the apocalypse, the girl who’s photo from an old magazine article he kept on him at all times.

Little about you had changed when he made his way back to the past to stop the impending apocalypse. You still had the same smile, the same laugh, the same appearance- your powers kept you forever young, a gift that was both a blessing and a curse depending on the day- and the same love for him in your heart that had blossomed when you were thirteen and naive about where the future would lead you. Falling back into your old routine together had been as easy as breathing, and from then on you both were inseparable. Five knew he could always count on you no matter what new challenge was thrown your way or what new problem you had to face. He vowed never to let you go ever again, but fate had other plans.

After arriving in this new timeline, Five had been quick to notice the fact that you were no longer by his side. Despite holding your hand in that elevator, you were nowhere to be seen when he’d stepped out with the rest of his siblings. Not only were his powers gone, but you were as well, and he had no idea where you could possibly be. He could feel the panic in his chest rising as if a fist was gripping his heart and slowly squeezing with each passing second, and the lack of control he felt in that moment was torturous. However, he only let himself spiral for a moment before immediately beginning to devise a search and rescue. Five would not stop until you were found and back safe in his arms.

And now here he was, standing dumbfounded in front of the entrance to a quiet cafe where you were waiting tables and completely oblivious to the pair of eyes watching you through the windows.

Your smile is still as warm as ever as you greet patrons and serve them their meals, asking about their days and laughing at their jokes even if they aren’t all that funny. Despite being on your own for three years, you seem to be doing quite well for yourself. But then Five notices something that makes his heart skip a beat and his palms perspire with nerves.

Your features have changed and in the time that’s passed it looks as though you’ve actually aged, something that was once thought to be impossible. Without your powers in this timeline, it makes sense that you would begin to grow into the looks of an older adult instead of permanently being stuck in a teenage girl’s body. He knows it’s something you’ve always wanted, and it’s a comforting thought to at least know that in this new setting you can have the life you’ve always wanted to have.

The bell above the door jingles loudly as Five bursts into the cafe and meets your gaze. Your eyes connect from across the room, Five’s breath hitching in his throat as you begin to walk towards him with an unwavering smile. He’s finally found you, and now he can rest easily knowing this whole mess is finally over.

“Y/n,” he utters through a trembling breath, fingers twitching at his sides in eager anticipation at being able to hold you once again. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“Hi,” you greet with a polite smile, “dining in or ordering to-go?”

“W-What?” Five breathes out as his brows begin to furl in confusion. He takes a hesitant step back when you step forward, unsure of himself and of your behavior.

“Dining in or ordering to-go?” You repeat before glancing over your shoulder in search of an available table. “If you’re dining in it’s going to be about a five minute wait.”

“Y/n, don’t- don’t you recognize me? It’s Five,” He says almost desperately, his chest beginning to tighten in panic at your uncharacteristic behavior. The girl he knew would have been ecstatic to see him; she would have dropped everything to express how grateful she was to see him again before scolding him for getting her into another time travel related mess. Why weren’t you happy to see him?

“I’m sorry, I think you might have me mistaken for someone else,” you correct him with a sheepish smile, completely oblivious to the fact that you’ve just completely crushed his heart in your hands and taken away the one thing in this world he cherishes most. “I’ll go see if there’s a table available for you, okay?”

You leave him there completely heartbroken and disoriented as he’s left to wonder what went wrong. You’re alive in this timeline, able to age and live a normal life, but it comes at the cost of the memories from your past life. You have no idea who he is here, what you’ve been through together, how much he loves you and would do anything for you.

In every life, every timeline, you are everything to Five. But in this life, he’s nothing more to you than a man coming into your cafe for a bite to eat.

And it destroys him.

#request #the umbrella academy #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #number five x reader #number five imagine #five #five x reader #five imagine #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine

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hxnbi · 3 months

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⸻ ꗃ a whole new side

₊˚Ꮺ synopsis: you, for the first time, see a whole new side of him he never wanted to you see… ₊˚Ꮺ pairings: haruka sakura, hajime umemiya, hayato suo x gn. reader (separate)

HARUKA SAKURA | 桜遥 ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

SAKURA had been through a lot in his life. Anyone with eyes could tell from the moment when one truly got to know him. But for better or for worse, he kept his ugly truth under wraps. All Sakura knew was to use the same, bruised, calloused, bloody, ugly fists he was born with. Any problem that he came across would be met with brute force. So to have someone like you in his life who was so far removed from that was a bewildering contrast.

He did what he could. Sakura kept what he did—what he was—far, far away from you, to the point where you had no inkling of what his true nature was. The thought of losing you, of having you torn away by the cruel hands of fate that he had no control over, was something he couldn't bear. And that terrified him. Thus, he kept his lips sealed and told you nothing.

Sakura would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant never showing you the truth of who he really was. He was willing to risk everything, even if that cost him his happiness. But all that would eventually play out, just as he feared.

Perhaps it was fate playing games on him to reveal his true nature at the worst possible moment when you least expected it. But until then, Sakura would remain ignorant.

And that ignorance would come back to haunt him.

That day, you were in the café with Kotoha, waiting for Sakura to arrive so that you two could go on a date together. But the minutes would tick by, and you checked your phone for the time to see how much time had passed. It certainly did feel longer in your head. Sakura was never late to a meeting like this. It was uncharacteristic of him.

Kotoha, who was cleaning a glass, glanced at you and then at the clock. "He's late. Should you call him?"

You shook your head. "No, it's fine. I'll go find him. I’m sure he’s probably on his way here anyway."

Kotoha's face would turn into a grimace as you left. You really still had no idea, didn't you…

Leaving the warmth of the cafe, you walked all the way down the street, letting the evening air cool against your skin and the back of your neck. But as you approached the corner, a shortcut that you and Sakura would typically take, you heard raised voices, one of them unmistakably being Sakura's.

"That's him," you muttered, following the sound and quickening your pace.

Turning into the alleyway, the scene before you made your heart stop.

Right in the thick of it was Sakura, in the middle of a fight, fists flying while being surrounded by a group of unfamiliar men you had never seen. They were all wearing a particular type of uniform, perhaps a gang or some sort. And nearby, a kid with orange hair and the same school uniform as Sakura watched in horror.

'What even was this? Did Sakura do this? Your sweet boyfriend?'

"W-What… I- Haru?" Your voice quivered as you stepped closer when your instincts told you to step back. But you didn’t listen, and nor did Sakura.

He didn't seem to hear you at all, lost in his rage.

"Stop it, Haru!" you yelled, running towards them.

Again, came no answer. All the heterochromic male saw was red, and not just from the blood staining his hands. Sakura landed another punch, and then another, sending one of the gang members sprawling to the ground, groaning in pain. Just as you reached him, one of the beaten-up guys coughed, a harsh, grating sound that cut through the air in an instant. You froze.

"You didn't tell them, did you?" the man scoffed, wiping blood from his mouth. "Didn't tell them you're affiliated with a gang. And Furin, of all gangs. Hah..."

Sakura froze, his fist still clenched and poised to strike.

Your eyes went wide. Was it true? Was that half-beaten piece of garbage right?

Tense and wary, Sakura turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours. Everything that Sakura had persisted in upholding, even if that meant hiding it away from the one person he truly loved, was heavy, physically pressing down on you.

You stared at him, shock and betrayal written across your face. "Is it true, Haru?" Your voice trembled. "Are you really part of a gang?"

Some of the men, taking advantage of this chance, scattered, groaning and clutching their wounds as they stumbled away. Sakura stood there, panting, his knuckles bloodied. He instantaneously dropped his hand, stepping back as if your words had physically wounded him. "I... I wanted to tell you," he stammered, eyes pleading for you to look into them and understand. "But I didn't know how. I was trying to protect you."

You held your tongue, unable to find even words to properly rebuke him, or even comfort yourself, for that matter. But before you could even say a word, the one Sakura had just been punching, on the ground, laughed bitterly, spitting blood. "Protect? From what? The truth?"

Sakura's eyes flickered with anger, but he didn't respond, nor did he appear to deny what the beat-up guy was saying. Though you all but understood the implications of what he meant.

With his heart on his sleeve and his face covered in scratches, bruises, and cuts, Sakura took a step toward you, his hands reaching out, but you immediately backed away, the gap between you widening with each step.

"...How could you keep this from me?" you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. "How could you lie?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered from under his heavy breath, his voice cracking, clenching his teeth, having to relive those memories. "I never wanted to hurt you. I thought if you didn't know, you'd be safe."

"Safe from what?" you demand, wiping away the tears angrily. "From you?"

He flinched as if struck, his face contorting with pain. You knew you shouldn't have said that, but your mind was so muddled, even beyond that. You were so desperate for the answers that you didn't even know yourself if you wanted to hear. It hurt…

"No, never from me. From them. From this life."

The beaten man laughed again, a cruel sound. "Looks like you did a great job there."

You glare at the man before turning back to Sakura. Your shoulders fell, tears stinging your eyes. "Sakura… you don't have to fight on my behalf. Not… not like this."

He finally looked at you, the fight leaving his body. Sakura's expression softened as he heard your words. You were right. You hated blood. And it was all his fault.

"But that's why I didn't—"

"Want to tell me?" you finished for him, your voice breaking, swallowing the lump in your throat. "There has to be another way… a way that doesn't involve more pain and violence."

Sakura's eyes softened, rage melting away into guilt. For once, he didn't even know what to say. Not even the lump in his throat could be swallowed. His face softened, and for a moment, you saw the boy you fell in love with, not the fighter standing before you. But still… you knew from then on that things had changed.

The tense silence was cut short as another pair of footsteps echoed. Kotoha stepped out, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. "Oh, Sakura…" she murmured, disappointment and concern etched into her features.

This was precisely what she was afraid of happening.

She sighed heavily before turning to you. "Come on," she said gently, taking your hand. Her grip was firm but kind, guiding you away. "Let's get out of here."

You followed her in a daze, your mind still reeling back. The weight of just about everything made each step feel heavier than the last.

"Nirei," Kotoha called over her shoulder, "can you look after Sakura?"

The said boy nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation without needing further explanation.

And just like that, you both part ways. Regret stung in your heart. A thought had whispered to you and Sakura that day. That love alone might not be enough to save you two.

HAJIME UMEMIYA | 梅宮一 ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

UMEMIYA was a natural-born leader. That was absolute. He treated everyone like family, and you were no exception. In fact, it was the complete opposite. You were the only person for whom he would ever break those morals. But even as he would mutter the sweet promises of affection and commitment to you, he never once mentioned to you that he, your sweet, nonthreatening boyfriend, was the leader of Furin. A gang.

He wanted to keep you far from that. A selfish request on his part. He tried to protect you from his dangerous world. But that didn't mean he could always shield you from it. What tormented him the most was the thought of his family ever getting hurt under his watch, and when it came to you—his sweet, gentle, innocent, significant other—he was horrified by that fear ever coming to fruition.

Time and time again, Umemiya would all but monopolize your time to go on dates with you when he had free time away from the fistfights he and Furin would find themselves in. It was sweet, really. The way Umemiya would treat you like his most prized possession—his most cherished person in the world. But at times, you would see your boyfriend mingling around seemingly unsavoury individuals, but you merely brushed it off your shoulder and went along the rest of your day. After all, you knew Umemiya and trusted him to make his own decisions. What would a relationship be like if there wasn't trust?

"Huh, Ume? I thought you had a shopping bag with you earlier?"

The white-haired man, who was once standing by your side, froze in his steps. He blinked before breaking into a cartoonish expression of disbelief. "Oh right! I'll get that real quick! Wait for me right here, alright?! Don't move until I get back!"

You smiled. "Alright. I'll be waiting right here."

"Okay!"

As he dashed off to quickly grab something, you were left to browse the colourful stalls, looking forward to a quiet evening all with your boyfriend. Lately, you've noticed Umemiya appeared to be more distant than usual, so today was supposed to “reconnect” you two by having some time together. But as you passed through an alley, a group of men loitering nearby caught your eye. One of them, a tall guy with a smug grin, stepped forward. Your face stilled. He didn't exactly look friendly, his eyes gleaming with a predatory intent.

"Hey there," he called out, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Why don't you come over here and keep us company?"

You tried to ignore him and kept walking, but he shifted to block your path, his eyes raking over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Don't be like that," he said, his grin widening. "I can show you a good time."

"Please just let me through," you said firmly, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Oh, feisty. I like that," he sneered, all of a sudden reaching out to grab your arm.

Just then, you heard footsteps approaching rapidly from behind, and standing before you was Umemiya, putting some distance between you and the guy. Umemiya’s presence radiated a sense of authority, but not in the ways that would bring out the best in people, nor was it even similar to past looks that would never make you comfortable. It was much different from how he usually acted in front of you.

The gang leader scoffed, looking Umemiya up and down with contempt in his eyes. Something told you that this was not going to end well.

"And who the hell are you?"

"Someone you don't want to mess with," Umemiya replied coldly. "Not after what you just did."

"Oh yeah?" he scoffed. "Well then, do you think you can take this—!?"

Umemiya caught the man's fists, and while holding it with the strength of a vice, he glanced back at you, his eyes softening for a moment. "Close your eyes," he commanded with a calm yet firm tone.

Confused but obedient, you complied, and closed both your eyes tightly. You kept both your lips and eyes sealed for what felt like minutes. Though curiosity got the better of you, and you peeked through your lashes. What you saw stole your breath away, and not for the better. It made you utterly sick.

Your boyfriend stood amidst a scene of utter chaos, surrounded by unconscious, bloodied bodies whom you had previously just seen with cocky grins. But not like this…

The ground was slick with crimson and broken glass, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood that made you want to throw up. Bodies and limbs lay at unnatural angles, and faces were bruised and swollen beyond recognition. It was grotesque, and it made your stomach churn.

The groceries slipped from your hands, falling to the ground with a dull thud, splitting open and their contents spilling across the bloodstained ground. That noise notified Umemiya, who immediately turned to face your bewildered self.

You took an involuntary step back to the wall, your mind and your shaking body struggling to process the brutality of what exactly you just saw. You felt sick. And Umemiya, your boyfriend, stood in the middle of it all, his fists still clenched and smeared with blood. His chest heaved up and down, his eyes wild with a fire you had never seen from him before. It was as if he were a different person, a stranger inhabiting the body of the man you loved.

Your mind was all but overwhelmed that you hardly even noticed the other figures standing comfortably next to Umemiya over the beaten-up guys who were previously harassing you. Since when did others come? Were they also involved with Umeymia in some way? Was this some sort of gang…?

Everything must've attracted some attention, you wanted to think. It was a small town, after all.

On the other side, Hiragi appeared at Umemiya's side, whispering something urgently into his ear. The white-haired man's eyes widened in response, and he quickly barked orders at Kaji and two others, who immediately began to clean up the horrific mess like a well-oiled machine.

Then, Umemiya turned towards you, finding you still rooted to the spot, his expression shifting from rage to concern. He took a step forward, but you instinctively recoiled, unable to reconcile the image of the caring boyfriend you knew with the blood-soaked fighter before you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but strained.

You nodded slowly, still in shock. How could you be so stupid… how could you have not caught on… The thoughts raced through your mind, guilt and confusion warring within you.

You knew he did this, all of this, to protect you, but a selfish, biting thought crept in. You had no idea he was this strong, this capable of such violence. It left you feeling a mix of awe but also just as much betrayal that made your stomach turn, your world shifting on its axis.

His gaze softened, regret flickering in his eyes. "I did this to protect you. You know that I would do anything to keep you safe."

You swallowed hard, the acrid taste of fear and betrayal mingling on your tongue. You almost wanted to laugh. Of course, you knew that… in there, as far as it was, was still the man you fell in love with. No, the man you were still in love with.

"I know," you whispered, your voice trembling. "But seeing you like this... it's like I don't even know you."

His entire being collapsed, his teeth clenching into one of pure distaste. But it wasn't directed at you, but himself. You didn't mean that, right…?

Umemiya wanted to try again. Though he knew that the distance between you two wasn't going to disappear with a simple touch. But even so, he reached out, gently cupping your face. Your expression, however, twitched into one he had never seen before.

Hah… that was it. He knew. You were scared of him.

"...Can I, have some space?"

He froze, but his eyes remained soft. "O-Of course." He wasn't about to risk it for a second time… breaking your remaining trust for him—as little as it was.

He took a step back, something he dreaded to do. One step away from you would mean another step back in your relationship, and you leave him, and he was horrified by that.

"I may not have told you everything… but I still love you. So much," he choked.

…..

"I know, Haji."

Umemiya had to watch you go, his heart clenching and drowning in regret. All he had hoped for was to protect you, but in doing so, he had inadvertently pushed you away. As you disappeared from view, Umemiya stood there, alone amidst the unconscious bodies, surrounded by the silent yet shocked expressions of Hiragi and the others from Furin who had witnessed the entire scene.

This wasn’t just a simple misunderstanding, but a devastating revelation.

What remedy could ever mend this fractured relationship?

HAYATO SUO | 蘇枋隼飛 ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

SUO hid a lot of things. That, you know. And not just from you, but practically everybody he knew. There would be times when Suo would change the subject you were just talking about, purposely evade your questions, and shift his gaze away, leaving you with more questions than answers. Suo was a mischievous guy who liked to get on people's nerves, but not without a reason. What reason is still a mystery to you. But what you do know is that Suo was and is a wonderful boyfriend, always attentive, caring, and vehemently protective.

Yet, time and time again, Suo would make excuses, disappear without explanation, or offer vague answers that left you unsatisfied. You first ignored it. After all, everyone deserves privacy. But soon, the inconsistencies in his stories and the shadows that sometimes clouded a single visible eye were hard to ignore. You may have been naive, but you certainly weren't stupid.

But all that would go to hell that late evening on a date with Suo. Everything that Suo kept away from you would all be revealed in a timeless, gut-wrenching event.

Even down to the evenings when you and Suo would be walking through the park, enjoying the twilight's calm, there would be times when his entire demeanour would shift, and a sense of unease settled between you. But this time, it wouldn't be just between you two.

"You and your dumbass eyepatch, thinking that you're looking down on me…"

Your eyes widened as you began to grasp, at least on a basic level, basic understanding of this tense situation.

A man with a black undercut tied in a ponytail, flanked by a few goons behind him, had suddenly fixated on you and Suo during your date. It was clear that they all seemed to harbour a grudge against your boyfriend.

"Oh?" Suo retorted with his typical demeanour. His lips stretched into a sardonic grin, but his eyes remained cold, devoid of the genuine warmth or mirth you would see from him. It was a smile that didn't reach his eye—a facade of amusement masking a deeper disdain. "I didn't know the cutie still thought of me to this day!"

Presumably the leader, stepped forward, his eyes blazing with hatred. "You little… this time, I'm going to end you."

"S-Suo, do you know them?" You turned to face his eyes, but silently, he gave you that trademark smirk of his. It made you even more anxious.

But before you knew it, Suo's grip on your hand tightened, just as he whispered in your ear, "We gotta run."

"H-Huh?" you stammered, confusion flooding your mind. Without another word, Suo took your hand and bolted, dragging you along. You ran together through the labyrinth of trees and paths, hearts pounding, breaths ragged. Finally, you collapsed against a bench, entirely out of breath, your chest heaving with exhaustion.

But even as you frantically tried to catch your breath, your mind raced with questions. "Suo, what was that? Who were those guys? What do they want with you?" you demanded in a frantic panic, looking at Suo for answers, desperate for some kind of clarity here.

Until you saw the expression on his face.

Ah, right…

Those were answers you knew you were never going to get. Not when you saw that look in his eye. Suo's expression, usually so warm and kind, was now dark and distant. It was a look you had seen before, one that made you shrink back in fear.

You swiped your hand away from his, the distance between you growing. But Suo didn't seem to notice. Or rather, he didn't seem to care.

"I'll be back," he said quietly. "Please stay here. There are people around. You'll be safe."

Again. It was always the same. Always avoiding the truth that you needed to hear.

"Suo, w-wait—!" you pleaded, but he was already turning away, his shoulders squared. He wasn't going to listen.

He took a step back, his eyes softening for a moment as he looked at you. "I promise," he said, a hint of the Suo you knew returning to his voice. "I'll explain everything later. Just stay here."

You nodded reluctantly, watching him disappear into the shadows. As you sat there on the curb with your hands huddled around your legs, surrounded by strangers, the weight of everything that had happened finally settled on your shoulders.

Minutes felt like hours, and when Suo finally returned, questions swirled in your mind—who were those people, and what did they want from Suo? These unanswered questions left but an empty, gnawing void within you.

You were so tired—tired of the secrets, tired of feeling useless, tired of feeling like Suo couldn't trust you with what was really behind that faint smile of his.

Suo approached, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, reaching out to touch and lock your hand with his own like he always did.

"...H-Huh?"

That was the first time you caught that look in Suo's eyes—a flicker of genuine fear, a vulnerability he rarely revealed—something he never thought he had, and definitely a fear he couldn't conceal behind his usual facade of confidence.

It was a gaze that betrayed an unmistakable dread of losing you.

…Perhaps it was the first time for a lot of things that day.

Out of reflex, you lightly swatted his hand away and took a step back, the frustration of just wanting answers boiling over.

"I'm sorry, Suo… can I just have some space?"

He stood there, his hand still outstretched, his eyes with a mixture of hurt and confusion. But he didn't pursuit it any further, in fear of making things worse. "Ahem… right. I'll see you then."

You knew it was wrong to leave it at that, but you needed a moment to gather your thoughts more than ever. But, like the man you always knew him to be, Suo respected your wishes. He agreed, and no longer did follow you, leaving you alone in your peace and tears.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

this took so much longer than i thought, but i think it was all worth it in the end :) funny enough, it was actually the first thing I wanted to write for wind breaker until i realized how long i ended up writing this to be, and that's only for three characters out of MANY i wanted to do. i do have ideas for a fluffy pt2, and im more than happy to write it if it gets asked enough :)

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker angst #suo hayato #hayato suo #haruka sakura #haruka sakura x reader #hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya x reader #suo x reader #hayato suo x reader

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dcangel · 7 months

Text

| cw: smut, slightly dark luke if you squint hard enough

luke castellan who refuses to fuck you even when you cry. he was completely oblivious to his own filthy pleasure. but curiosity would never stop luke from making you beg.

he wouldn’t even let you touch yourself. and every time he saw the slightest shift of your thighs against one another to alleviate the unbearable pressure, he’d make you wait another agonizing day.

though luke never clearly stated why you were being punished, you assumed it had something to do with the way you teased him at night. meeting up with him at the bathrooms, whispering beyond vulgar things as you pressed your hips forward against his, only to leave him minutes later; alone, and with the worst case of blue balls he’s ever had.

yeah, it was probably that.

but now, lying under him and just having to take the ruthless friction against your fully clothed heat, you fully regretted every second of it. in your eyes, this was past cruel. he wouldn’t even allow you to feel how hot his skin was against your wet cunt. you imagined him to be warm and throbbing, soothing your neglected folds as he rubbed through them.

the fabric separating your bodies was slowly becoming soaked. it was embarrassing. humiliating, even.

and all you could do was cry and beg. but luke’s personal favorite was when you’d thank him after he reminded you how lucky you were to be receiving any attention at all.

you were so greedy, always pleading for more of him. he had you wrapped around his little finger, certain that you’d do anything for him.

he wondered that if he gave in and fucked you roughly like you deserve, you’d still follow him as he lead a deceitful life for the rest of his time at camp. and if you’d join him in the end of olympus.

the sobs and borderline hysterical pleas for any type of unclothed, physical contact that left your swollen lips made it seem that way. and the streams that wrecked every delicate pat of a beauty sponge, and every pass of the mascara wand over your now red, puffy eyes could only add to his confidence. you’d be with him until the end, however that fate may be.

oh, how luke loved it when you cried.

#luke castellan pjo #luke’s!world #luke castellan smut #luke castellan pjo smut #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader smut #luke pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan

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sleepyangelkami · 4 months

Note

Recently got into the walking dead and let me just say i’m obsessed with your carl fics. It’s alarming how many times i’ve read them lmao.

CLINGY c.grimes

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.4K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - being clingy was the most natural thing in you and carl's relationship after all the trauma you'd both endured. but when things get too much for carl, he shuts you out, leaving you to assume only the worst.

☆ WARNINGS - clingy relationship, crying, blood, gore, mentions of death, walkers, mean!carl, yelling, stress, mentions of violence, weapons, (2) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

clingy was a word you had much distaste for.

when the world literally ended, there wasn't much to do aside from survive and hold onto your loved ones. you'd been alone so long, people slowly falling, dying, leaving. before you knew it, it was just you and the group you'd found. well, they'd found you.

more specifically, he'd found you.

the boy with the sheriff's hat, eyeing you with his gun in the air. you made no sudden movements, eyes cast down on the ground as if you didn't care whether or not the bullet would fly from his gun.

it was just you in the house they'd raided. you didn't have a family, nor a group. just you, covered in blood, starved and in a kind of fetal position, knees pressed against your chest as you eyed the pool of blood surrounding you. some of your own, some from the ones before.

when you'd met the group, you had nothing. dead parents, dead siblings, nothing seemed to matter anymore. the world was gone, the people you loved either dead, taking the easy way out or leaving it to the walkers. or perhaps they'd left you, walking out when things got tough, leaving you and the remains of your family behind.

the screams from outside of the house would alert you of their soon fate afterwards.

you opened up, albeit it was slow.

you liked to believe there was an instant connection between you and the boy. he lowered his gun almost instantly, realising you weren't a threat behind the blood and glassy eyes. how he'd known, you weren't sure. he just did.

he rushed towards you, calling downstairs for his father in a panic.

you didn't speak much at first, staring when he'd offered his name. carl grimes. the boy you'd soon learn to love.

and with time, you made a new family. daryl dixon was a good idea for a father, you soon learned, carol sort of alike a mother when she snuck you an extra one of her homemade cookies.

you lost others, more fell. but you and carl never frayed.

rick and michonne would always catch you together, smiling and looking at one another knowingly. it was safe to say that it was no surprise when carl announced you were together. after all, you were practically joined by the hip.

this brings us back to the beginning. the word clingy.

you hated the word as much as you hated the death surrounding you. could anyone truly be clingy in a world like this? is anyone really too much? you liked to believe that there was no such thing as too much anymore. people died, left, separated. any day could be someone's last. you'd prefer to know that you'd spent all the time with them as you could.

if that was clingy, then so be it.

carl was used to this side of you, he catered to it, if anything, he matched it. he was used to the way you laid against him, talking lowly as he went about his tasks.

there was a grey cloud looming over alexandria at a time like this. the survivors were getting more powerful and it was plaguing carl's mind. you did your best to be as gentle as you possibly could, attempting to console the boy but it seemed no matter what you did, he would find himself bubbling over with anger.

"will you pass me the carving knife?" he cut you off mid-speech, ignoring the way your lips instantly shut closed, eyes searching your side of the table.

you weren't hanging from the boy as you usually were, picking at his hands and fingers, playing with them as though they were dough. you weren't snuggling into him while he placed his arm around you. your normal routine simply didn't exist with the past week or so.

but if space was what he needed, you were more than happy to offer that to him. "okay." you mumbled, picking up the knife you thought was the carving knife and passing it to him.

you didn't know much about knives and guns, usually sitting your head on your knees and listening to the boy speak about them. yet, every time he told you what was what and their intent, everything went in one ear and out the other. he'd often admire the way you asked a thousand questions over, one's he'd already answered. he'd only smile, answering them again.

now you realised perhaps you should have been listening.

apparently, you'd passed him the wrong one. you heard what you assumed was a swear pass his lips in a whisper as he placed the knife back to the table roughly. "what's wrong?" you questioned softly, watching him pick up a thinner knife, sanding it down with the block in his hand.

"got the wrong one." but his voice was anything but the gentle carl you knew and loved. this one was sort of mean, a tone of anger behind his words. "how many times have i explained all of them to you? i mean, you still don't know, seriously?"

it seemed as though the dark cloud over alexandria had moved into the room belonging to carl grimes. you found yourself sneaking your knees closer to your chest, just like the day he'd found you. "sorry." you mumbled, glancing away.

confrontation wasn't exactly your forté.

it didn't help that fighting with carl was a rare experience. "maybe if you just listened to me every now and again we wouldn't have this problem."

offence took over your face, brows knitting together. "I do listen to you." but when he talked about things like knives and guns it was sort of hard for you to keep up.

a scoff left his lips. "sure you do." angry carl never failed to show you a different side of the boy you loved.

you stared at him in shock, wondering where the sudden attitude towards you was coming from. you knew he was stressed, understood it even but you'd done nothing to deserve the hatred being thrown your way.

that was when the shaky, "why're you being so mean?" left your lips.

like i said, confrontation wasn't something you practiced often. you were sort of unsure of where to go in this situation.

carl breathed out a ragged breath, practically throwing the tools onto the table. you jumped slightly, staring at him with widened eyes. "maybe you're the one being too clingy." his eyes stared into yours but they didn't look like the ones you'd fallen for so deeply. "just..." breathing through his nose. "just leave me alone for a bit, yeah?"

clearly, he wasn't in the mood for any of this.

and neither were you.

you spoke no words as you quickly scooped up the bag on the ground, making a haste exit towards the door. the sound of a quick sniffle before you shut the door closed was enough for the weighing bricks to fall down on carl.

the sudden severity of the situation dawned on the boy.

he'd made you cry.

and he swore never to be the cause of your tears.

he didn't run after you, though, much too caught up in his own head. the stress of the entire situation of the saviours was weighing on him too. he crashed his elbows onto the table, shoving his head between his hands and groaning. he wondered if he'd ever get anything right.

before he could get too far with the self pity, his bedroom door swung open to reveal his father.

"what was that?" the older man questioned, not giving a clue to what he was talking about. but carl could guess. "y/n just ran out of here crying, you have somethin' to do with that?"

in a moment like this, disappointed dad gazing at him, carl would have done anything to wipe that look off his face. "dad, you don't get it―" about to explain himself, weave out of whatever this was.

"i don't care." was the answer he gave, having better things to be doing than sorting out this teenage relationship himself. "fix it." and finally slamming the door.

rick always taught carl how respect worked, he punished him when he was wrong, rewarded him when he was right. he didn't teach him to act like this.

it was night fall when carl finally found himself walking around the town of alexandria. he was sort of hoping you were out here instead of back at home for he really didn't feel like speaking to daryl at the door and asking were you home. however, he searched every nook and cranny, every place you usually went when you were upset and yet he walked back empty handed, realising you definitely hadn't been outside.

finally, he found himself standing on your doorstep, sucking in a breath before knocking on the white door, the light from above shining down on his face making him squint.

the door opened to reveal carol, thankfully not daryl. carl really couldn't imagine what daryl would have to say to him right about now. he just hoped he was out hunting somewhere or other, at least then he wouldn't get the urge to haul the boy off his front porch.

"y/n?" is all carol questioned, she was dressed in her own hunting attire and carl could only guess that she was on her way out too.

he pressed his lips into a thin line. "she home."

the woman nodded. "upstairs." before swapping places with the boy, making her way outside while inviting him in. "carl." he looked towards her. "don't make me regret leaving you inside."

he only nodded, allowing her to close the door from the outside.

finally, the silence of your house enveloped him.

you, carol and daryl all lived in the same two story house but sometimes it seemed only you lived here. all the decorations were your work, pictures and photo frames, some of before, some of now, everything screamed... you.

it was that cosiness about you that made him fall for you all that time ago.

his boots found the stairs, making his way up and finding your bedroom door, the last door on the right hallway.

your door was white, a brass handle leading him into the room he'd seen a thousand times before.

he'd imagine your room at the other side of the door, pretty pink bedsheets with matching curtains. he'd found the curtains for you on a separate occasion, you'd been over the moon. and the pretty lights that decorated your walls along with the picture frames and the stuffed animal he'd found tucked away in your bloodied back so long ago, now fresh against your bed.

a sort of comfort from the world before.

he knocked, receiving no answer.

"sweetheart? it's carl." again, he was met with the mere silence as his fingertips hung heavy against the door handle. "i'm coming in, okay?" it wasn't a question, more like a warning.

when he did walk in, he was met with a sight he'd seen before.

tears coating the edges of your eyes, sitting criss-cross legged on your bed in your favourite pijamas, pretty stuffed toy between your legs. carl had seen this before, held you through it, comforted you and swore that whoever hurt you would pay. what was he to do now when he was the cause of your sorrow?

"hey, baby." his tone was as gentle as could be, making his way to sit next to you on the bed. "missed you."

you two were so different.

carl had the stubbornness of a mule, when things got tough he found it awfully hard to apologise, not that he ever had to do it much. though, he'd much prefer for everything to disappear in a blink of an eye, forget everything ever happened and go back to the way you two were.

and when you were upset? you shut off.

"i was thinking..." still avoiding the two words that would seemingly make it all okay. "maybe next week we can go someplace? find somewhere to hang out for the weekend, like a night away." his words prodded no reaction from you. "how's that sound, angel?"

a shrug was the only thing he was met with.

your glassy eyes strayed far from his, not even attempting to look him in the eyes. he sighed, unsure of where to go. "look at me, sweet girl." long fingers entrapping your chin and turning it towards him.

there was a pang of guilt as he looked in your glassy red eyes, evidence that you'd been crying earlier that day. and he'd been the cause of it.

finally, the long awaited. "I'm sorry." and carl the stubborn mule grimes didn't just apologise to anyone. "shouldn't have talked to you liked that, c'mere." in a time like this, all you needed was comfort, that was what compelled you to move with his hands, climbing into his lap. the sound of your soft cries soon filled his ears. "i know, i know, 'm so sorry." hand rubbing circles against your back, holding you close.

you didn't mean to cry the way you did, but the weight of the day collapsing on you was enough for you to cling to the boy.

you buried your head in the crook of his neck, wisps of his own hair in front of your face, his hat steady on his head as he held you so gently, as though you were made of glass.

a wobble of your bottom lip as you pulled away from the boy, holding your hands up to your face as if to shield yourself. there was something so scary about him seeing you cry. "i didn't..." your own voice cracking. "i didn't mean to be clingy."

his heart quite literally shattered.

"no, no." his voice sort of high pitched as he pulled your hands from your face. "no, you're not, sweetheart, i promise you're not."

you sniffled at the boy. "but you said―"

carl couldn't dare to hear the rest of such a sentence. "i didn't mean it, baby, i promise." he pulled you back towards his chest, head finding his neck again only this time you didn't cry as hard, mere sniffles leaving your nose. "was bein' an asshole, baby, 'm so sorry."

it'd take a while for you to believe him.

but he'd do whatever it took.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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nothingbutsweetwords · 2 months

Text

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"...ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ"

Word count: 5,600.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

Warnings: Angst, mention of SA!, violence.

FALLING — 8. Him.

As they ventured beyond the gardens, the night unfurled before them like an endless canvas, speckled with stars gleaming like precious diamonds. The cool air brushed against their faces, his heart racing with a thrilling anticipation.

Time seemed suspended as their lips met for the first time. She leaned in with a determination that enchanted him, and their brief, gentle kiss pulsed with newfound love. As they separated, he silently wished this moment could last forever. Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the sweetness of her lips once more, and when they eventually pulled away, their hearts beat as one.

"Goodnight" she whispered, her voice barely audible with emotion of the moment. He studied her divine face carefully.

"Goodnight" he replied, his heart overflowing with happiness.

His steps were light, almost floating on the ground like it was made of clouds, as he replayed every detail of the encounter in his mind. Her smile, the softness of her voice, the warmth of her eyes. Everything about her captivated him, and now the opportunity to get closer to her lay before him.

The overwhelming feelings swirling inside him formed a maze of complexities and simplicities. He was deeply in love, a truth as soothing as it was exhilarating.

From the moment their eyes first met, something within him surged with indescribable force. Now, after witnessing countless dawns and dusks together, he finally understood the profound signals his body sent and the true sentiments his heart harbored. It was unmistakable: love, destined to flourish, destined to be. He was certain that, had it not been for fate, somehow they would have found their way to each other. Yet, he was profoundly grateful that the gods had paved their path.

The movements of servants and distant voices reached him as a faint murmur. In that moment, he only heard the rapid beating of his own heart and the echo of his steps leading him back to his chambers.

Reflecting nostalgically on the early days of their relationship, particularly that initial meeting in the library, it seemed like ages had passed and yet remained vivid as yesterday. Every moment spent in her company felt all too brief. She had the uncanny ability to transform every experience into something incredibly beautiful, a dream come true, and he perpetually yearned for more.

Upon entering his room, he collapsed onto the bed, paying no mind to the clothes touching the freshly changed sheets. He made no attempt to conceal the radiant smile that illuminated his face, one that seemed determined to etch itself there indefinitely.

His heart raced wildly yet also felt serene, as if it had been sprinting for hours and finally found repose, reassured that he was precisely where he belonged, every fragment of his life fitting seamlessly into place.

It had been his first kiss, a magical, momentous occasion and he was taken aback by its occurrence. It wasn't that he hadn't previously contemplated doing it, or that he didn’t want it, but he had been hesitant to rush into it.

With the taste of her lips lingering on his, he wondered if that was her first kiss too.

Just as he kept sinking into his thoughts, knocks on the door snapped him out of his reverie. He had completely forgotten that Aegon had promised a visit, and he couldn't wait for this meeting to end so he could see his princess again. The thought of them being alone excited him even more, filling him with indescribable joy. Perhaps, he thought, he could have another one before sleeping—and every night thereafter.

He opened the door with a radiant smile he couldn't care to hide. His elder brother greeted him with an amused and surprised look at seeing him so elated then entered the room followed by a servant carrying a pitcher and two cups. He, still lost in his daydream, watched curiously as the servant placed the things on the wooden table and discreetly withdrew. Aegon seemed more interested in the lady than anything else, but soon, when the door closed, he focused his attention on his brother.

With a quick gesture, he tossed something to Aemond, who caught it mid-air. It was a rough cloth cloak, starkly different from the soft garments he was accustomed to. He unfolded it, furrowing his brow, as he looked at his brother with curiosity.

"Is this my present?" he asked, unable to hide his confusion. He didn't expect much from Aegon, but a dirty cape seemed like a rather insulting gift, even from him.

"No, it's still too early for gifts. Come, sit down" his brother said, pointing to the armchair across from him. Aemond placed the cloak on the back of it, smoothing it carefully. Aegon chuckled softly before pouring wine into the cups.

He sat down, accepting the brimming goblet that Aegon offered. He didn't normally drink as much as his brother, but this time he decided to join him. The elder downed his in one go and set it aside, while he sipped slowly, still eager to receive his gift and return to the princess.

"May I have my gift now?" Aemond began to ask, but was calmly interrupted.

"I know you've been acquainted more closely of late, you and the princess. Especially in the nighttime" Aegon remarked casually, a sly glint in his eye. Instantly, he felt a jolt of alarm, worried that rumors were already swirling through the castle corridors. Aemond held his breath, his heart pounding hard. How could Aegon have found out about that? Then, with a playful smirk, his brother added, clearly relishing the tease: "It appears you hold her in high regard."

Caught off guard, he struggled for words. His mouth opened slightly in surprise and he remained silent, debating on how to respond.

"She is not the only one aware about the passages, but don’t worry, mother won’t know" Aegon continued nonchalantly. "Is there something you wish to share?" he probed.

After a pause, and under the expectant gaze of Aegon, he admitted: “Well, we… We have spent some time together, yes. And I find her company quite... pleasant.”

"You have feelings for her" Aegon asserted, his tone almost rhetorical.

"Of course I do, she's family" he tried to deflect, attempting to mask the truth of his emotions, but it was feeble. It was all too conspicuous; he was too transparent, and Aegon too perceptive.

His brother's eyes rolled at the predictable response. "Come now, Aemond. Your countenance betrays you." Aegon insisted with unusual calmness. He felt his mouth go dry and nervously took another sip of wine, the silence between them growing tense, charged with an expectation that the elder seemed to enjoy. "You've taken a liking to her, have you not?" he pressed, his expression urging honesty.

Exhaling heavily, he acknowledged the undeniable truth. "Perhaps I do... yes. This is all rather new to me" he admitted softly, revealing his inner thoughts to his brother for the first time. Aegon's smile widened reassuringly.

"And do you intend to declare yourself?" Aegon inquired knowingly, his tone now softer, almost understanding. For a brief moment, he debated the necessity; after all, they had already shared a first kiss. But the desire to fully reveal himself to her outweighed any doubts.

Aemond looked down, his thoughts invaded by memories. The first time their hands accidentally brushed in the library, the conspiratorial conversations meant only for their ears, the shared laughter that echoed like a melody, and the silences that were anything but awkward. Every detail of her had delighted him, and for once, Aegon was right: he couldn't deny it.

"I must admit, I'm relieved. I thought the only woman you'd ever fancy would be the one from your books." Aegon said, laughing softly. He got serious again, rolling his eyes at his brother’s snarky comment.

"Where are you going with this?" Aemond finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll lend a hand" Aegon offered warmly, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes. He frowned, taken aback by his brother's willingness to assist, yet also stung by the implication that he needed it in this pursuit. While it was true he didn't possess Aegon's effortless charm in certain matters, he was determined to win her heart entirely on his own terms and merits.

Silently, he shook his head and drained his cup in one swift sip.

"Are you not going to drink more?" He asked, surprised, trying to change the course of the conversation, noting that his brother had only had one glass of his favorite drink. Not that he seemed sober, but the fact that he wasn't almost unconscious was somewhat of a surprise.

"Thanks for caring, but even I know my limit. I've had a bit during dinner and in my room" He said with a light laugh. Aemond, not considering that to be little, decided not to argue. "But back to your gift... it's something special. In fact, I did it at your age. Now, I want to guide you through it." Leaning forward, his brother's eyes showed a hint of excitement. "I'll take you to a fun place tonight. A place where you can try new things and become more... experienced."

Aemond looked at him skeptically, trying to focus his vision that was beginning to blur. "What kind of place?"

Aegon leaned, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he filled his cup once more. "Oh, you'll see.”

"I think I've had enough" he murmured.

"Finish this one, and then we may go" insisted Aegon, pushing the cup towards his lips.

Aemond drank the wine with a grimace, noticing his mind beginning to cloud more with each sip.

"Fuck" he whispered, trying to keep steady.

"Feeling more relaxed now?" Aegon asked sarcastically, watching him with a mocking smile. "Is this your first time being drunk?" He nodded, a small laugh escaping his lips at the unfamiliar sensation. "You'll thank me later, I promise. I'm sure it will help you with your... beloved" the elder added cryptically.

"What do you mean by that, Aegon?" Aemond raised an eyebrow, his intrigue deepening.

"It's a surprise," he replied, rising from the sofa and grabbing his cloak, "trust me on this one. Now, shall we?" Aemond sighed inwardly, realizing arguing with his brother would be futile. He nodded reluctantly.

With a theatrical gesture, Aegon headed towards the back door and opened it, revealing the hallway where the princess always passed to see him.

"Come on, brother" Aegon said with an unusually serious tone. "You're going to love this."

He rose slowly, his mind filled with unanswered questions while grabbing the cloak. Aegon rarely showed such interest in something, which only heightened his curiosity and, at the same time, his wariness.

They left the room and silently made their way through the dark corridors of the castle. Aegon led Aemond to a secret door that he didn't even know existed, then opened it and revealed what lay behind.

Aemond furrowed his brow and began to shake his head. "I'm not sure this is a good idea" he said cautiously.

"Aemond, could you stop being such a prude for one night?" Aegon scoffed, rolling his eyes in disbelief. "It's your special day; I just want you to see the city.” he explained, then mockingly added: “Don’t tell me you’re afraid."

Aemond had never felt a genuine urge to explore the city, but Aegon's challenging tone, coupled with the slight boldness the wine had imparted, began to wear down his reluctance. Curiosity about the surprise also spurred him on. Moreover, he was eager to meet his beloved princess, and the sooner they finished this, the better.

Perhaps he could turn this experience into an interesting tale to share later—a memory of the remarkable night that signaled the beginning of a new chapter in his life, a chance to surprise her with a new adventure. He could also learn something more, should she ever wish to make an unforeseen escapade.

They descended the narrow stairs together, with Aegon leading the way. The guards appeared accustomed to the prince frequenting these places and simply opened the doors without questioning.

Once outside the castle walls, entering the city immersed him in a cacophony of noises. He kept his hood up, observing everything with curiosity tinged with caution. Unlike him, Aegon seemed unfazed by the possibility of being recognized, allowing his hair and face to be fully exposed and even exchanging friendly greetings with passersby.

Aegon spoke enthusiastically, recounting stories of his experiences in the city, and Aemond tried to listen attentively, but his mind was divided. He felt somewhat guilty for not enjoying the gift as much as his brother had intended.

The bustling atmosphere of the city began to unsettle him. Soon, the overwhelming number of people and the unpleasant smell disturbed him deeply. He felt uncomfortable and agitated, sweat beading on his forehead in the unfamiliar and potentially dangerous surroundings, unsure of what fate awaited him under Aegon's turbulent guidance.

They walked until they reached a shady alley. It was less crowded but equally foul-smelling and narrow as the previous path, he noticed. They approached the door of a larger house, its entrance concealed behind red curtains, giving no clue as to what may lay inside.

Some men silently opened it and they both stepped into it.

The smell changed upon it, but not necessarily for the better. Aemond looked up when he saw bare feet approaching them from the center of the room, dimly lit by candles. Aemond's breath caught in his throat and he felt the blood drain from his face as if he had seen a ghost. Fear mingled with revulsion as he realized the nature of the place, the weight of Aegon's expectations crushing down on him.

When Aemond turned to look at Aegon with a mixture of disbelief and confusion, he felt overpowered by the taller, more robust presence, who flashed a malicious smile and pulled back his hood.

Anxiety surged through him; he felt as though he were caught in a dangerous game, not fully understanding the rules or the objective. His heart began to pound harder in his chest, and his throat went dry when Aegon, who was in his element, pushed him further, closer to the woman, and said: "I want only the best for the one-eyed prince."

"I'm sorry, Aegon, I can't..." murmured Aemond, his voice barely a trembling whisper. But his protest was drowned out by Aegon's tired groan.

"You can't back out now" insisted Aegon firmly, his eyes gleaming with a determination that was more frightening to Aemond than any physical threat.

The woman in front of him smiled and extended her hand in an inviting gesture. However, he kept his hands firmly clenched at his sides, fists tightly closed with such force that he could feel the pain of his nails digging into his palms. His brother, seeing that he showed no signs of wanting to move forward, pushed him more towards the woman, who greeted him with another smile and grabbed his wrist.

He obeyed mechanically, his heart hammering painfully against his chest. Each step carried him further away from everything he knew, towards an abyss of the unknown and feared.

She was walking in front of him, dressed in a revealing attire that left little to the imagination. Feeling embarrassed, he lowered his gaze. Aegon continued to stand behind him, hands resting on his shoulders, urging him.

He wanted to react, genuinely trying, but he felt dazed, as if his mind was disconnected while his body moved on inertia. His face flushed with heat.

Although his gaze was fixed on his feet, his eye captured unsettling images, scenes he had never imagined and certainly should not be witnessing. As the figures moved about, a subtle melody played in the background amidst moans of various voices and tones.

Aemond swallowed hard, every fiber of his being screamed to stop, to turn around and run far from that place, but Aegon continued to push him forward. He felt like a marionette, strings pulled by Aegon's words and will.

And he kept walking towards his uncertain fate, desperately longing for some miracle to divert him from this imposed path, to regain ownership of his life once more.

The woman, moving deliberately and maintaining a consistently gentle demeanor, positioned them in front of semi-transparent curtains.

"Come now, don't linger" Aegon urged impatiently, a sly smile twisting his lips.

Aemond hesitated, unease settling in his gut. He didn't want to enter, didn't want to confront whatever lay inside.

"I don't think..." Aemond stammered, his objections weak against Aegon's strong grip on his shoulder, propelling him ahead.

"You see, brother," Aegon whispered in his ear, his tone low and insidious, "this is where boys become men. You can't shy away from what life demands of you."

Aemond felt trapped, like a lamb led to slaughter. Every nerve screamed for escape, but he found himself unable to resist the pull of Aegon; his persuasive words wormed their way into his thoughts like a creeping vine. Aemond's mind reeled, torn between revulsion and the need to please his elder brother.

Impatiently, Aegon parted the curtains and pushed him into the room. Aemond closed his eyes briefly, cold sweat beading on his forehead as a wave of nausea swept over him. His thoughts became a chaotic whirlwind of denial and despair.

As the curtains closed behind him, he avoided lifting his gaze. His hands remained clenched, his legs heavy. From the center of the small room, a soft voice broke the silence: "My prince, don't be shy."

Despite the invitation, he continued reluctantly to look up. The voice, with a playful tone, drew nearer, descending from a bed. The room seemed to absorb all sound, leaving Aemond with the deafening echo of his own racing pulse and the measured steps from the woman.

She walked slowly towards him with grace, and he could see her bare body approaching. He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, his body stiff and tense, experiencing slight tremors. He wanted to protest, but the words stuck in his throat.

The woman moved behind him, and he finally lifted his gaze. He observed the walls adorned with explicit paintings, while numerous candles scattered around the room illuminated the space, highlighting a large round bed in the center. He felt like an intruder in his own skin, his mind and body disconnected in a harrowing internal struggle.

The atmosphere was dense, heavy with something oppressive, something that seemed to steal all the air from his lungs. Forced to breathe quickly and deeply, his nostrils filled with a pungent scent of myrrh that seemed to seep into his very being. Discomfort threatened to become more visible with each second.

His face contorted in an expression of revulsion and distress as he felt hands resting heavily on his shoulders, while warm breath caressed the nape of his neck.

"I'm going to make you a man" she whispered softly in his ear.

He barely remembers the journey back to the Red Keep, except that he purged himself in some dark corner of the city, relieving just a bit of the discomfort plaguing him.

He was grateful that the sun had yet to rise, sparing him from many witnesses to his sorry state, just a few guards and servants.

They entered through the main door of his chambers, one of his arms was draped around his brother's neck, who bore all his weight, as he couldn't muster the strength to walk. Aegon laid him down in his bed. The room spun slightly around him.

"What did you do to me?" Aemond whispered, looking at his brother with a blend of confusion and betrayal. His words slurred slightly, and the edges of his vision blurred further into a disorienting haze.

Aegon met his gaze with a furrowed brow, the telltale signs of intoxication evident in his expression. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across his features, highlighting the creases of concern and bewilderment etched upon his face before he turned away.

Aemond tried to fight the drowsiness creeping over him, but it proved futile. His eyelids grew heavier despite his efforts, and eventually, they succumbed, closing shut, the faint sound of Aegon closing the door echoed in his ears as he slipped into darkness.

As the sun began to timidly filter through the windows, painting the room with a soft but unsettling light, Aemond woke up with a knot in his stomach. The confusion still weighed heavily on his mind. Every image echoed painfully from the events of the previous night.

He sat on the bed, hugging his knees as his gaze wandered over the white sheets. Memories began to surface and cling to his mind like a heavy, dark cloak. He felt corrupted, as if the shadow of what had happened was seeping into his skin and soul.

The silence in the room was deafening, interrupted only by the distant sounds of the castle coming to life. He squeezed his eye shut, trying in vain to ward off the memories that mercilessly intruded into his mind.

He didn't realize when his mother entered the room; her voice rumbled low, almost imperceptibly intrigued in his ears. A servant discreetly withdrew upon seeing him.

He wondered if it was his bare face that had alerted her, the patch lost at some point in the night revealing his wound, or maybe she could see what he had done. Maybe she sensed it and noticed how stained he was.

In the distance, the aroma of freshly cooked breakfast drifted from the table, a small sign of normalcy in a world that seemed to have lost all its balance for him.

His mother approached quickly, wanting to comfort him, but he recoiled. He couldn't allow her to be tainted by his actions.

"Leave" he murmured, avoiding her gaze.

"My child, what is the matter?" she asked, her eyes full of anguish and her hand reaching out to him, but he couldn't accept it, even though he wanted to.

The images kept coming, clearer each time, confirming what now was. Nothing but something murky, impure, darkened, spoiled.

"Don't touch me" he pleaded. He felt his mother withdraw her hand.

"Please, tell me what happened, we can solve it together" she pleaded, tears starting to flow her eyes. "Do you want me to call the princess? Anything, my child, just tell me how I can..." Her voice was painful.

"No!" he shouted, making his mother flinch in fear. Immediately, he felt worse.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked desperately.

Not wanting to hurt her further, he said with a trembling voice, "I just want a bath, please." She nodded and quickly left, wishing to be helpful and offer any assistance he needed.

After his mother exited the room, he rose from the bed and tore off the grimy sheets where he had slept. With a mixture of frustration and sorrow, he tossed them aside onto the floor, the same spot where he then discarded his soiled suit.

It had been his favorite, adorned with delicate embroideries meticulously crafted by his sister, worn proudly on his nameday, now tragically besmirched beyond repair.

Once the bath was ready and the room fell silent, he dragged his feet to the bathtub. Every movement was an effort, as if he was navigating through a world made of dense darkness.

He scrubbed his skin with the sponge until it turned red and his mind urged him to stop, trying to rid himself of any trace of the unpleasant smell. He washed his hair, hoping to erase the memories. He submerged himself in the water, seeking to drown out the feeling from his body, but the sensation of dirtiness persisted.

He stayed in the bathtub until his skin wrinkled and the water cooled. As he emerged, he passed by the mirror. The reflection revealed tired, baggy eyes and an expression etched with pain and confusion. He climbed back into bed, hoping to find some form of comfort.

Lying there, staring at the ceiling as the sun rose slowly, a ray of light pierced through the window, illuminating the sapphire on his bedside table. Tears welled up and finally spilled over, coursing down his cheek like rivers of pain and regret. The reflections of lights and colors danced on the walls and ceiling, mirroring the turmoil within him.

Breakfast remained untouched on the table, as did the other meals his mother silently brought throughout the day. Thoughts crowded chaotically: Was it real?

He squeezed his eye shut, allowing the silence of his room to envelop him like a comforting blanket. Nestled in the softness of the new sheets, he sought refuge, hoping they would shield him from the relentless onslaught of his own mind. Yet, tears continued to flow unabatedly.

The following days passed in a heavy silence, immersed in a state of denial. He felt no inclination to rise and confront reality.

Each task seemed insurmountable, and he had no desire to encounter anyone, engage in conversation, or face the concerned glances and unspoken inquiries he knew would come.

There wasn't much room for his mother's well-intentioned visits that could further destabilize his fragile balance, nor for food, even the simplest appetite felt as distant as the sun on a cloudy day.

He grew accustomed to the monotony of the room, its walls the sole witnesses to his silent pain. Sometimes, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly without truly seeing, while the outside world continued to spin, unaware of his suffering.

During those days of isolation, he tried to find peace in the emptiness of solitude, allowing himself to simply exist without the pressure to act or face the truth.

Then another feeling emerged; each sigh was an attempt to free himself from the heavy burden of guilt that imprisoned him.

New questions arose: How could he do that? Guilt enveloped him like dense fog, making him question every decision, every word spoken, every gesture made.

He decided to store the sapphire in the dagger's case, hiding it behind a stack of books as if that could somehow make its presence less felt. The sapphire's gleam felt unbearable, as if each sparkle was a silent reproach, reminding him of the horrendous actions of the previous night. The lingering scent of roses mixed with the scent permeating him only exacerbated his torment, evoking images of his sin that refused to disappear.

The next day, his mother appeared again with breakfast.

"I've brought you a new patch" she said, her voice laden with concern, as if seeking permission to share in his grief.

Seeing him rise from the bed and head toward the table, she took it as an invitation and sat beside him. He began eating small bites, but he knew that staying silent with his thoughts could sink him deeper into his pain. He wanted to avoid mentioning her name, as if it could be tainted by simply pronouncing it, but he needed to know how she was. Surely worried, maybe even upset.

"Has she come to see me?" he asked softly.

His mother didn't need to ask whom he meant. She lowered her gaze, and he began to fear the worst.

"The princess left for Driftmark a few days ago" she said quietly. The fork slipped from his weak fingers, and he furrowed his brow, staring blankly at the plate in front of him. "Ser Laenor has passed away" his mother added. Confused, he looked up.

"And the funeral?"

"Your father and brother have traveled to be present, they must be returning by now" she explained.

"But why aren't we there?"

"That day you told me you didn't wish to see her, so I assumed..." He cursed under his breath, cutting her off as he buried his face in his hands.

He wanted to scream in frustration, yet he knew he couldn't fault anyone but himself. He had forbidden visits. Had he been informed, he would have acted differently, however, he also never allowed his mother an opportunity to speak.

The knowledge that she left shattered him to his core. How could he survive without her by his side?

Guilt overwhelmed him even more. She, who had set everything aside to be with him without any ulterior motives, was now mourning the loss of her father while he hid in the comfort of his bed, lamenting his decisions.

After that, he couldn't eat anymore, feeling his stomach clench instantly. His mother withdrew, still worried but grateful for having accompanied him even for a brief moment.

Aware that she was likely headed to Dragonstone, he took paper and pen, determined to send a letter to that destination, seeking to offer an apology. He didn't feel ready to face the darkness he had allowed that night, nor to confront the very possible disappointment in her eyes, but still he wrote that if she requested it, he would mount Vhagar in the blink of an eye and fly to wherever she was, ready to stand by her side no matter what.

Days turned into weeks, and he became a mere shadow of his former self. He neither ate nor slept, and words seemed to have abandoned him entirely.

Unyielding flashbacks haunted him, casting a relentless shadow over his waking hours and his dreams alike. These memories were vivid and fresh, like an open wound that refused to heal.

The grotesque sounds and screams, the frantic rush, the stinging tears in his eye, the bitter taste of blood from biting his lips, the mocking laughter, the barrage of vulgar words that stung—each detail made him feel like a trapped animal.

He knew he had done wrong, he had ruined his reputation. The sense of failure gnawed at him, as a man, as a prince, as a future husband, as himself.

He longed for those moments to be forgotten, buried deep within his mind. But they clung to him like a parasite, feeding on his despair, and twisting him into someone unrecognizable.

His brother's words echoed in his mind, making him feel like a coward for his inability to handle the situation.

Every time he closed his eyes, the images infiltrated his thoughts, consuming him like wildfire. He realized the battle with that would never truly end.

He felt like a vessel of dirt and filth, a walking embodiment of shame.

Desperate for distraction, he threw himself into his studies and training, avoiding eye contact, shrinking from touch. He couldn't bear the thought of being seen, of being surrounded by others.

One day, lying in his room, immersed in dark thoughts, a burden weighed heavily on him. He waited in vain for any sign from the princess, any news to alleviate his growing anguish.

Suddenly, someone on the door broke the oppressive silence, pulling him out of his reverie. His mother usually entered without notice, and the servants no longer frequented his room, so these unexpected knocks caught his attention.

A glimmer of hope arose within him. Could it be that she had returned? He quickly suppressed the idea.

The room, once filled with her essence, now lay stripped and empty, as if it had never been occupied. No trace of her presence remained, not even the sweet aroma that used to linger in the air. The only proof of her presence was a gift hidden in the shadows.

He hesitated, unsure whether to open the door. As the knocks persisted, he quickly adjusted his eye patch and prepared to receive whoever was on the other side.

When he opened it, Helaena stood revealed. With a small, warm smile, she moved toward his bed. He closed the door behind her and stood, staring at the ground, ashamed to see his sister after everything.

Helaena moved delicately, holding something in her hands. "Aemond" she called softly, drawing his attention. When he finally looked up, he found an empathetic expression, contrasting with the concern from their mother.

"I've brought some roses from the gardens" Helaena announced calmly, placing a crystal vase near his bed. He looked at her gratefully, feeling as though she had read his mind.

Helaena took a few steps toward him, respecting his space. Aemond silently appreciated this gesture, knowing his sister was not one for physical displays of affection, and he did not feel deserving of a hug.

"I made you another" she said, handing the clothes over carefully, with an implicit understanding of the story surrounding her previous gift, one he had to discard after that fateful night. Aemond nodded, his heart moved by the gesture.

Unfolding the soft fabrics, he revealed a new suit, this time black, in stark contrast to the greens he usually wore. The delicate, perfect embroideries reminded him of the last one, but these were even finer and more elaborate, as if they held a promise of renewal and strength.

"Thank you" he whispered, struggling to convey the depth of his gratitude.

Helaena smiled gently, as if to say there was no need. Aemond felt she understood more than she could express with words, wishing to comfort him in her unique way.

Before leaving, Helaena added with a hint of mystery in her voice "I like to believe that our wait will be rewarded, don't you?" He nodded, almost imperceptibly, without taking his eyes off hers.

With those words resonating in his mind, Aemond was left alone in the room, feeling a little lighter. Then, he let the tears fall again, washing away the pain and anger that threatened to overflow him.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @oh-you-mean-me @squidscottjeans @fossface

Last part as kids! I feel so bad for Aemond :(

#aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen x female reader #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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vincentsambershades · 1 year

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How not to tame a dragon

Cregan Stark x Targ!fem!reader

Summary: when Cregan Stark informs his Targaryen bride that she cannot bring her mount with her to Dorne, all hell breaks loose.

(I usually avoid writing since English is not my native language (be warned). I was, however, inspired by some hotd-fics from my favourite creators and wanted to write something fun, about our favourite northern man, mister cregan, which I'm actually pretty proud of. So here it goes.)

Word count: 2.5k-2.6k

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut, fingering, p in v, tiny bit of breeding kink, flufffffff

When Cregan Stark was first presented with the young Targaryen princess he didn't fail to notice the fire that erupted from within her. A fire caused by her close attachment to her dragon. Her Cannibal, albeit frightening, had served the both of them well enough after their wedding. And even though Cregan was hesitant to ride on dragonback, his wife had charmed him in doing so relatively early in their marriage.

In spite of how much Cregan admired the beast, as well as the bond between his bride and her mount, there were moments when he wished he hadn't been married to a Dragonrider.

The princess was used to roaming Westeros with her loyal travel companion. Therefore, when the time had come for the newly wed couple to head to Dorne, in order to manage 'certain financial and commercial matters', as her husband had called them, Cregan prevented her from bringing her beloved dragon along. He insisted that a dragon, despite being a sign of force and power, would create an intimidating environment that would leave no room for impartial negotiation. He was right of course, as always, but the wrath of the dragon was easy to provoke.

"Cannibal is coming with us to Dorne! The cold of the North is no good for him! The heat will soothe him!" she was red in the face and as terrifying as the wild thing she had managed to tame.

"My love, you know we cannot travel with a dragon to Dorne, bringing your beast along will only serve as provocation which we cannot afford!" said Cregan only fuelling his wife's fury.

"This is outrageous!" she looked almost as if she intended to feed him to the dragon.

No direwolf would ever be able to save him from that fate.

She didn't speak to him for at least two weeks after that.

Around that time, their journey to Dorne began.

After long hours of travelling, as night was setting, time had come for them to rest and as Cregan helped his men set out camp for the night, his wife was taking a stroll near the frozen river. She was wrapped in more furs than he could count and looked as if she would tumble over from their weight any moment now.

She would appear comical had it not been for that sour expression on her face.

Separating her from her dragon seemed to toll on her more and more as the days passed. Her denial to exchange more words with him, other than 'Good Morrow' and occasionally 'Good night', didn't seem to improve her mood either.

It didn't matter to her that she missed him. The princess wanted for her husband to be the first, out of the two, to break. She wanted for him to seek her out, chase her and claim her all over again.

Cregan needed her too. He had always known that half her heart belonged to her dragon. That was what happened with all Targaryens.

He had come to terms with that.

Yet, there were moments, like this when the mere view of his beautiful wife had him hoping that he owned at least some part of her heart.

He felt silly. He knew that their marriage was a political arrangement. Her father had established that when the match was made. However, Cregan couldn't help but feel lucky to have found a match in the princess, their chemistry was undeniable and their times together were filled with all the passion other political marriages lacked. There was mutual understanding in their marriage.

Cregan shook these thoughts and concentrated on the task ahead. So called traders from Dorne had been entering his borders and tormenting villages on his coastlines. Of course, the Lord had tried to diplomatically remove them from his land but when the situation became unbearable and his ambassadors came back empty handed, he knew it was time for a formal visit to the far South. He had been tempted to use his wife's creature in order to intimidate them, but the thought of causing further commotion, when the throne was so vulnerable, prevented him from doing so. For a Stark, Cregan's will to maintain the peace was greater than his thirst for battle.

Cregan was lost in his thoughts as the men sat around the fire, passing around carafes of ale to warm them during the cold night. It took his companions quite a bit of convincing, but he finally accepted to take a swing.

"To keep you warm, Lord." insisted the man who was sitting on his right. Cregan took the carafe, offering the man a grateful smile, and drank generously.

Instead of downing more, he wrapped his coat tighter around him and relaxed while watching the flames. Cregan managed to lose himself in the moment. He didn't know what it was, the easy atmosphere or his companions' laughter, but something warm bloomed in his chest. How he had missed travelling. Roaming the North with his friends as the moonlight illuminated them.

It felt even better this time. Because in this particular occasion, he had her to share it with. His stubborn little wife. His fierce dragon rider.

And that was when it hit him.

Cregan realised he hadn't seen her in more than an hour. The last time his eyes had fallen on her, she was wandering around, kicking the snow with her feet. He didn't think she had headed for the woods, he knew she wasn't that careless. Before they began their journey he had, after all, made sure to inform her of all the dangers they might come across, wolves, bears and other animals humans shouldn't meddle with. Therefore, she had to be in their shared tent.

"What is it Lord?" the man turned to him again. Cregan attempted to hide the worry off his voice.

"Have you seen my Lady around?"

"I fear I haven't, Lord, she must be resting." offered the man with a toothy grin that did nothing to ease Cregan's worry.

Cregan rose to his feet swiftly, turning on his heels and heading to the tent where he found nothing but an untouched bed and a trunk he himself had placed there. He exited the narrow space, searching for any sign of his wife. His vision, despite being acute, served him little in the moment and the full moon, albeit helpful, didn't shine enough light upon the heavy snow. His mind ran several miles an hour, considering all the possible paths the princess could've taken. He began his search without being in control of where his feet took him until he reached the river. He looked for footprints but found none. Even if she had taken that route, the fresh snow would've covered her tracks.

His train of thought was rudely interrupted by a crack on the ice that had gathered at the edges of the river. The sound of the rapture was followed by a splash in the cold water and a womanly scream, one that undoubtedly belonged to his wife.

He followed the direction of the sound only to be met with the sight of the princess' attempt at defying the coldness of the river and swimming to the surface. Without second thought, Cregan rid himself of his fur coat, keeping on his less warm leather attire. He placed the heavy coat to the side and got in the freezing water aiming for his wife. She was easy to identify, even in the dim moonlight, and so he reached for her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her out, letting her limp body rest against the snow covered ground but only long enough for him to pull his dry furs on top of her soaked ones. After she was securely wrapped in them, he carried her unconscious back to the untouched bed he had prepared for her.

"You stupid girl..." he scolded her while peeling her clothes off and leaving them near the fire to dry. Despite being close to the fire and covered in all the blankets Cregan could find, she was still shivering. "The blood of the dragon is not enough to keep you warm after all..." she had awakened during this time and was aware of everything he threw at her.

Had she been in her senses, she would've jumped at him for daring to question the fire in her veins. But she was weak and defeated as she watched him pull his own clothes off.

He knew there was only one way to warm her up fast and that was body heat. And no matter how mad she had been at him for the past two weeks, she couldn't help but feel grateful as he covered himself in the blankets and pulled her to him. His arms found their place around her waist and she buried her face in the crook of his neck inhaling the manly scent of him. He started running his fingers up her back, all the way to her damp hair, and down again, just above her rear. He grabbed her thigh, hiking her leg over his hip and drawing her closer. His fingers found her front and caressed the skin below her bellybutton, tentatively delving lower. She heaved a sigh, her now hot breath hitting his neck as he let his urges overtake him.

His hand found its place between her thighs. She was warm there. Warm and soft. He dipped his fingers in her delicate folds, finding her oversensitive bud and circling it. They hadn't coupled in a while and his desire for her was driving him crazy.

"Cr-Cregan..." she whimpered and for a moment he thought she was hesitant. That thought, however, didn't plague him for long. When he pulled away to look at her face, to search for a negative reaction, he saw her pouty lips regaining their colour and her eyes reddened with unshed tears and clouded with want, pleading for him to finally touch her.

"Please, please, please-" as much as he usually enjoyed her begging him to take her, he was quick to stop her whimpering by capturing her lips in a kiss. His lips felt hot against hers and as he replaced his index finger with his thumb on her pearl, reaching lower and teasing her entrance, she gasped offering him the perfect chance to deepen the kiss. His fingers felt heavenly inside her, pumping in and out of her always hitting the rough spot that Cregan knew made her see stars.

Even with his fingers inside her and his length, brushing against her lower stomach, the kiss was his personal way of reclaiming her, swallowing her whole.

She reached her smaller hand between their bodies, taking him in her hand and stroking him as he sat hot and heavy in her palm.

She pulled away and her slack expression, lust filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips could have made him peak at that instant.

"I want you inside of me, now." she stated and how could he refuse her. Especially when she looked so eager, practically begging him to fill her.

He was quick to pull his fingers out of her, leaving her with an empty feeling. She didn't complain though, not when the sight of him getting on top of her and settling between her thighs had rendered her speechless.

He lowered his hips, reaching between his legs to tease her with his tip before entering her in one forceful thrust. She let out a yelp and choked out a moan.

The feeling of him long and thick, stretching her out after weeks of refusing him couldn't compare to anything.

Except, perhaps, for the feeling of her, wet and warm and tight, around her husband. Cregan swore there was no other woman besides his wife that felt so perfect.

Her tears, from how intense their lovemaking was, had Cregan remembering their first time together, right after their wedding feast when he had her lay on silk sheets, broken her maidenhead and molded her to him.

"Cregan I need to-need to-" she tried to say while Cregan delivered licks and bites to the sensitive skin of her neck.

"What do you need, my girl?" he thrust in her hard and fast, the way she liked it as his lips landed on her breast, sucking lovemarks and taking her nipple in his mouth, making her moan loud enough for everyone around to hear.

"I n-need to peak, please!" she managed and who was he to deny her wishes. He led his fingers to her pearl, rubbing it while hitting her sweet spot.

"Suck a good girl for me, begging me for her peak. Do it, I want to feel you come apart on my cock" he commanded her and not long after that her climax hit her. She held onto him, her nails digging into his biceps as he kept his unrelenting pace. His murmurs of 'that's it' and 'good girl' were muffled by her hair. Endless mantras of his name left her lips as she rode out her orgasm, her hips moving involuntarily against his own.

"Do you want me to spill in you, uh, my love?" he asked almost mockingly as his thrusts grew uneven, a sign he was close.

"Sp-spill in me Cregan!" she yelped as he continued to abuse her insides. Her husband groaned at her lustful pleas, grabbing her face and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"I will, sweet girl. I will spill in you, make you round with my pup. You would like that, wouldn't you?" Cregan came apart with a satisfied moan, his warmth filling her and then running down her thighs as he grew soft and pulled out.

He didn't leave her side after that. He laid beside her, instead of on top of her, and pulled her to him. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to regain her breath and Cregan placed reassuring kisses to her forehead.

After a few moments of utter silence, he heard her sniffle and mutter something against his throat. He soon came to realise she was apologizing. He gave her a questioning look, wondering what she had to apologize for.

"I'm sorry for avoiding you for two weeks, it was stupid and immature of me and I'm so so-" he silenced her with a kiss to which she responded quickly.

"You have nothing to apologise for." Her expression was hopeful. "I understand what it is like to be parted from something or someone you've truly set your heart to. That's what staying away from you felt like" she gave him a nod before letting his words truly set in. Her confusion painted her face a scarlet red and her anticipation was later imprinted in her voice.

"What are you saying?" she questioned and he sighed softly, cupping her cheek and wholly giving into her.

"I love you infinitely, my fierce dragon princess. And you needn't say it back. Not unless it's your truth." a weak smile formed on her lips.

"I love you too, have loved since I married you, before that even." her cries ceased. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, inviting him to her. "I love you my wild man from the North, my wolf." he laughed at that, an honest heartfelt laugh, the vibrations of which she felt against her own chest, and proceeded to kiss her.

Cregan kissed his dragon princess like his life depended on it.

#cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #cregan stark smut #house targaryen #house stark #cregan imagine #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #my writing

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cryptidghostgirl · 7 months

Text

Alastor x Reader Master List

My Alastor list is getting crazy long so I am giving it it's own post just so my big Hazbin Hotel Master List doesn't get too confusing.

Other Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

List of Things I Won't Write

Series are marked in purple

Requests are marked in pink

Suggestive are marked in orange

NSFW are marked in red

Make You Wish Master List -> Y/n has known Alastor since she first ended up in Hell. When he disappeared? She thought her life was over. Seven years have passed since then and slowly but surely, the 1950s housewife turned murderer has made a life for herself, full of good decisions and some bad ones. What will happen when Alastor turns back up again, sending the world as she has made it into chaos once again?

What Can I Do For You (Alastor x Reader) → What if the deal Alastor made that is controlling his power was with Y/n?

Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader) → Y/n has been using the exterminations as a way to try and search for the soul of her earthly husband for years. What happens when she actually succeeds in finding him?

→ Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader) -> Reader wakes up in Alastor's room at the Hotel after the events of Understand.

Wrath (Alastor x Overlord!Spouse!Reader) → Y/n’s anger in finding that after seven years, their husband has returned to Pentagram City and decided not to tell them.

Unrequited (Alastor x Reader) → It is too late for him to change things now. It doesn't matter what else has happened, that he's gotten to know her, seen her light. Some broken things can never be fixed. 'You came' 'you called' but make it sad.

→ Unrequited Pt. 2 -> Reader steps in when Alastor is attacking Husk.

→ Unrequited Pt. 3 -> Alastor refuses to let Y/n be present for the battle against Heaven and will do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even if she hates him for it.

Fuel and the Fire (Alastor x Wife!Partner-in-Crime!Reader) → Alastor and Y/n have a deal with Lilith where until a soul is redeemed at Charlie’s hotel, Y/n is under her control. Alastor will do whatever it takes to get his wife back, but that doesn’t mean he won't get a little sad a lonely along the way.

Loving You (Alastor x Gn!Reader) → Valentine's day special :) The story of how Alastor and Y/n realized they had feelings for one another.

Sweet (Alastor x Chubby!Reader) → Hurt//comfort. A random demon insults the reader and Alastor comes to comfort her, later dealing with the demon in a typically Alastor way of handling such a crime.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader) → Fake dating trope. Y/n and Alastor met when they tried to kill one another, how could they not end up at least a little bit in love?

-> Cover Up pt. 2

→ Cover Up pt. 3

Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader) → Y/n just wants to watch the world burn. Being married was a boon at first but later, rather inconvenient. When she died, she did everything she could to avoid her husband and continue her work but fate had other plans.

→ Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2

→ Till Death do us Part pt. 3

Prepare for Battle (Platonic!Alastor x Platonic!Cat Demon!Reader) → Alastor and Y/n have been engaged in a prank battle for decades. What happens when just a few days after Alastor reappears in the Pride ring, Y/n joins him at the Hazbin Hotel?

Rhapsody Master List → Gn!Reader. Alastor and Y/n have been taking down the overlords of Hell together for years but Y/n has had a secret and Alastor knows it. They each go their separate ways because of this but what happens when years later their paths intersect once again. Loosely inspired by Raine and Eda in The Owl House.

The Guilt (Alastor x Reader) → Y/n was the one person he never meant to kill, but Alastor didn't have a choice. Years later, much to his surprise, they run into one another in the depths of Pentagram City.

Pretty Bunny (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader) → Alastor catches Angel and Y/n getting ready for a night out and stops Y/n from going. Hurt/comfort.

I Myself am Strange and Unusual (Alastor x Living!Addams family!Reader x Lucifer) → Y/n is bored and summons some demons.

The Love (Alastor x Reader) → Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.

Frostbite (Alastor x Reader) → History repeats itself in odd and uninvited ways. Life cycles on even in death.

→ Day Lilies (Alastor x Blizzard demon!Reader x Angel!OC)

Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy (Alastor x Reader) → It wasn't love. Alastor didn't feel love, not anymore. He'd lost that part of himself the day he died so it couldn't be love, could it?

→ Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy pt. 2

Mishap of Magic (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader) → Alastor’s magic backfires and Y/n is there to help. Who would have guessed that a situation such as this would give him the last push he needed to tell her how he felt?

Destruction//Creation (Vox x Alastor's Ex!Reader x Alastor) → Alastor refuses to let the past die and Y/n would rather pretend it never existed.

The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader) → Alastor meets his shadow.

Masquerade (Alastor x Angel!Exorcist!Reader) → Y/n is sent to the Hazbin Hotel as a spy.

Downfall (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader) → Y/n see’s Alastor talking to Rosie and thinks she is what he wants in a woman. Little does she know, he was meeting with Rosie to ask for advice on how to talk to Y/n.

What it Means to be a Person (Alastor x Cyborg!Reader) → Y/n gave an arm and a leg to the fight against the exterminators and feels she has lost her humanity by the bionic replacements Lucifer and Charlie gifted her in return. Alastor reminds her that not all is lost, she can still dance, after all.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Chubby!Gn!Reader!) → Alastor likes the fact that Y/n has begun matching their lipstick to their nail polish -- loves it, in fact. What he doesn’t like is that other people have started noticing. (this one is a bit… weird so I am marking it as suggestive.)

Burn (Human!Alastor x Human!Gn!Reader) → What happens when Alastor spots his ideal target, Mimzy’s newest hired talent? What happens when they evade his capture? What happens when, slowly, he begins to realize -- Alastor doesn’t want to kill them? At least, not anymore.

Drawing Down the Moon (Alastor x Ancient Roman!Witch!Reader) → Alastor reencounters an old friend.

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paperultra · 10 months

Text

candy stripes.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5,048 words Warnings: Swearing, hospital setting [A/n: Soulmate AU. :)]

sortiger (adjective): delivering prophecies of the future; having the qualities of being oracular

Nobody else can see the string but you.

You wish you didn’t. It has no texture, no weight, so you can’t understand why it can’t be invisible too. But the string demands attention with every use of your hands, seizes your eye when you wash dishes in the morning and brush your teeth at night, a garish and bloody red that matches the stripes of your uniform.

You hate your string and you hate the color red.

Miss Xinyu, the old lady in Room 30, has one too. At least, that’s what she had told you when you gained the courage to mention yours one day, not knowing what it meant and how much you would come to dread it.

“It’s your red string of fate,” she had explained. “It connects you to the person who understands you more than anyone else in the world.”

In other words, your soulmate. Your one and only.

Miss Xinyu says you’re a lucky ducky, knowing what your future holds.

Her string goes into the ground now. You don’t think being reminded of a dead person whenever you look at your pinkie is very lucky.

The biggest reason why you hate the string so much, though, is because you’ve always had a problem doing what you’re supposed to unless you want to, which causes a lot of trouble for a nine-year-old girl. You already have trouble being nice to patients who are mean to you, so how can you love and wait for someone you’ve never met? It makes you feel icky.

Why can’t you choose? How come you have to have one at all?

Your only source of comfort is that your string is very, very thin and runs out of the hospital. That means your soulmate, whoever they are, is very, very far away. You’d very much like it to stay that way.

But it doesn’t.

—

Nurse Taoh wants you to watch the patients in Room 8 while he finishes his charts. You don’t really want to, if only because it’s Nurse Taoh asking – he likes to order you around more than Dr. Gu – but you don’t want to get into trouble again, so you go.

(… And okay, you are just a little bit curious about the new inpatients. You only know three things about them: one, they were brought in together last night while you were in your room poking holes into your paper instead of correcting it; two, they’re a man and a boy, presumably father and son; and three, everyone says it’s a miracle they’re still alive.)

(Then again, you’ve seen many miracles here.)

The unit is quiet as you walk down the hallway. Quiet, but not silent, as your polished shoes squeak like little mice against the floor and you whisper the room numbers as you pass by them. Two, four, six – eight.

You stop and knock, three sharp raps against the brown wood.

“Hello?” You open the door and poke your head in. “My name is –”

The squiggly-patterned curtain that often separates patients for privacy is drawn, and you clamp your mouth shut as you realize the patient closest to you is asleep.

Shutting the door silently, you creep closer to the foot of his bed. The man underneath the sheets lies quietly; he is little more than a skeleton, eyes sunken and bones sticking out underneath blistered skin. His beard is long and scraggly, but it pales in comparison to his mustache, each side braided and sticking out to the sides.

He looks angry, even though he’s sleeping. You hope he’s not the type to wake up and yell at you as you tiptoe past to check on the boy.

You pass the curtain, catch a glimpse of the bed sheets, and see –

Red.

Your feet root themselves in place, the room suddenly devoid of air.

You stare. Blink hard, twice. Look again. Then, trembling, you look down at your hand.

Your eyes trace the string around your own finger, following down to the dip of it that barely touches the ground and back up over the blankets until it ends in a red loop around the boy’s pinkie, tied off with a little bow.

Your stomach turns.

Stumbling forward, you make your way to the visitor’s chair in the corner. You slump down into it and stare straight ahead at the curtain, refusing to look at the boy’s face.

He continues to sleep.

You don’t want him to wake up.

—

The boy does not stir during your first meeting, but that small mercy is quickly eclipsed two days later by a single bowl of chicken broth.

The look on your face is sour as you walk down the hallway again, the broth splashing up against the lid with each step. Because most of the patients in the hospital you live in are elderly, the staff have somehow gotten it into their heads that you simply must spend time with the boy in Room 8 because he is your age and you need to socialize with other kids. You very much don’t want to. Not with him, at least.

Dr. Gu is just leaving the room when you arrive. She gives you a quick smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkling, and pats your head.

“So you heard that the boy woke up, huh?”

You grunt, looking away with a pout. “Can’t you give this to him, Dr. Gu?”

“Nope. I have to finish my rounds,” she says. “Go in and have a chat. His name is Sanji. You’ll like him.”

“I doubt it,” you mumble underneath your breath.

Dr. Gu probably hears you, but she doesn’t scold you, merely patting your head one last time before you enter Room 8.

The dividing curtain is drawn this time. The window curtains are pulled back, too; it’s a somewhat cloudy day outside, but bright enough to sharpen the shadows on the walls and make the boy look even paler than you remember.

His eyes are closed as you approach. A sprout of hope that he might have fallen asleep again blooms in your chest – you’ll just leave the broth on the table, you think to yourself, and go about the rest of your day. Nobody said you had to watch him drink it.

You get about five feet away, already planning to drop some books off to the other rooms, when the boy’s nose suddenly twitches.

His eyes open to thin slits. Your hope shrivels like a weed in the desert as he speaks.

“What’s that?” His voice is quiet and raspy.

Your eyebrow twitches. “It’s just chicken broth,” you say tartly, setting the tray down on the overbed table and turning it around so that it’s over his lap. You take off the lid and steam bursts from the bowl.

The boy reaches up to rub his eyes. The red string dangles from his pinkie, and you quickly look away with a scowl.

“Who are you?” he asks, scooting back to sit up more as he gradually becomes more alert.

Reluctantly, you give him your name. “Will you need help with the soup?”

He shakes his head. His gaze latches onto the contents of his bowl, and he stops, transfixed.

You scramble to stop him as he suddenly grabs the bowl and attempts to gulp it all down in one go.

“Don’t do that! You’ll throw up!” Without thinking, you seize his hands and pry the bowl away from his mouth. A few drops of broth splash over the blankets and his gown, and your irritation grows. Now you’ll have to fix that. “Drink it slowly.”

“I haven’t eaten anything for weeks,” the boy complains. “What do you know?”

“I’ve been studying medicine since I was a little kid,” you retort. “So I know a lot.”

He frowns. “You are a little kid.”

“I’m nine years old!”

“No, I’m nine! You don’t look as old as me!”

There’s no way this … this brat is the same age as you! Fuming, you let go of the bowl and jab a finger at his face. “I am nine years old and I know more than you! You can’t drink the broth like that!”

You’re met with silence. The boy’s eyes are wider than saucers. Pride wells up inside you at your ability to shut him up.

But then he puts the bowl down and seizes your hand, and your pride gives way to horror as he folds down your index finger and lifts your pinkie – the pinkie with the red string wrapped around it.

He lifts his own pinkie, the rest of his fingers folded. Your jaw clenches when you see how the string has shortened to mere inches, bridging the space between his hand and yours.

“Holy shit,” the boy says. The largest grin spreads across his face, and it’s blinding and scary and you hate it, you hate it. “It’s you! You’re my soulmate, aren’t you?!”

“No,” you reply quickly, whipping your hand behind your back and backing away. “No, I’m not!”

“But you see the string too! I knew I’d meet you some day. How come you’re”— he pushes the table away, eagerly but just gentle enough so no more of the broth spills—“how come you’re hiding it behind your back?”

“I’m not your soulmate,” you bark, panic rising in your chest. “Don’t you ever say that!”

You only catch a glimpse of the hurt that flashes across the boy’s face before you turn around and dash out of the room.

Mrs. Hong finds you in the storage closet later, curled up behind the shelves of gauze and IV tubing. She coaxes you out with a promise of rice balls and no questions asked. You wish all the adults were more like her.

—

The next day, Miss Jaylee hoists you over her shoulder like a human sacrifice and brings you to Room 8.

“I don’t want to see him! You can’t make me!”

“He’s refusing treatment and food unless he sees you,” the woman answers briskly, each of her steps jostling you up and down. “You don’t want to be responsible if Sanji dies, do you?”

“I don’t care if he dies!”

Miss Jaylee clicks her tongue and walks faster.

You flail, feeling a little guilty for your cruel words but too proud to take them back. Sanji couldn’t have heard you, anyway, and nobody here is going to let him die no matter what he does or what you say.

You hear a door swing open. Miss Jaylee walks into Room 8 and turns around, and you lift your head, glaring at Sanji as his face lights up and his cheeks turn rosy.

“[Y/n]!”

Your own cheeks burn in embarrassment at the position you’re currently in. This, you only now realize, is way worse than walking into the room voluntarily.

“How come they’re carrying you? Are you okay?” he asks.

“Let them treat you,” you snap, arms limp and dangling. “And eat your stupid food or I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay.” You nod, opening your mouth to speak again only for him to continue, “But only if I get to talk to you afterwards.”

What is he, a prince?! What makes it so easy for him to demand such things?

“That wasn’t what you told them,” you protest, squirming, but Miss Jaylee only tightens her arm around your waist.

(“Be nice,” she warns. You growl.)

“It’s important,” Sanji stresses, looking pointedly down at his hand and then back at you.

You bite down on your tongue as the red string glimmers in the light.

Dr. Gu and Nurse Taoh stare at you expectantly. Your neck is starting to ache from craning it, and there’s a feeling that you’ll never stand on your own two feet again unless you do what he wants.

“… Fine,” you hiss through gritted teeth.

Only once you promise to stay does Miss Jaylee let you slide off her shoulder. You stand to the side, arms crossed impatiently as they take Sanji’s vitals and ask him some questions. He’s only half paying attention, head turning to look at you more than once, which you merely turn up your nose at.

“All right, we’ll leave you two to chat now,” Dr. Gu says. “If you need anything, just let [Y/n] know, okay?”

“Okay,” Sanji says.

With that, the three adults leave, and you and Sanji are left alone once more.

“I’m glad you came. They were starting to get mad at me,” he says, then cuts straight to the chase. “How come you don’t want to be my soulmate?”

“Because I don’t want a soulmate,” you immediately reply.

“But why? It’s nice, isn’t it? Being special to each other?”

“You can’t be special to me. We’re not even friends.”

For the second time, Sanji looks hurt.

“…We’re not?” he asks. You shake your head. “But … you brought me food.”

You’re befuddled. “Because Dr. Gu made me,” you say, trying to ignore the disappointment on his face. “Besides, I yelled at you yesterday. Friends don’t yell at each other.”

“I thought that you were maybe just really surprised …” His voice gets smaller and smaller. “Some people get mad when they’re just surprised …”

“I wasn’t surprised. I saw it when you were still asleep.”

“Oh,” Sanji mumbles. He looks down at the sheets, scratching at the wrinkle in the thin white fabric. “Okay.”

He says nothing more. You fidget, wondering if he’s pretending to look like he’s about to cry or if he really is trying not to. You’re not good with people who start crying.

You chew on your bottom lip. Sanji tucks his hand with the string on it underneath his bed sheets, his eyes disappearing behind his tangled hair, and fine, you feel kind of bad whether he’s tricking you or not.

“I’ll only be friends with you if you don’t talk about being soulmates,” you finally tell him begrudgingly. “Not ever, okay?”

His head shoots back up. “Really?!”

“Only if you don’t talk about it! I’m serious.” You huff at Sanji’s sudden change in mood and click your tongue. “If you stay sad you might not get better. Don’t get the wrong idea!”

He nods, grinning bigger than ever.

Oh, dear, you think as he promises that he’ll be a really, really good friend, you might have made a mistake.

—

By the fifth day, Zeff, the man who was brought in with Sanji, is awake.

You hear them arguing before you see them, pushing a cart of books for Sanji to browse through as per your agreement the day before. They’re loud, and Sanji calls the man an old shitbag right as you knock and push the door open.

“I’m here,” you announce, and the two quiet down to look at you. You give Zeff a polite smile. “Hello, sir. I’m [Y/n].”

“Hello, little miss,” Zeff says, his features softening from the angry expression he’d directed towards Sanji a moment before.

“Why are you being nice to her and not me?” Sanji pipes up from his side of the room, all puffed-out cheeks and petulantly crossed arms.

“Because she don’t make my ears ring with nonstop whining,” the man answers sharply. “Now get a book and read so I can finally have some peace and quiet.”

“You get a book and read,” Sanji grumbles.

“What was that, boy?”

You cut in before they start bickering all over again. “Do you want a book too, Mr. Zeff?”

Zeff’s gaze flicks over to you once more, and your shoulders tense. The man takes a deep, calming breath, and then he sighs, reclining back into his pillow and closing his eyes. “No, thank you, little miss,” he mutters. “Reading’s no good for my head right now.”

“Do you have a headache?” He grunts in affirmation. “Do you want me to get a nurse?”

“No, no, don’t need any of that.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a headache,” Sanji accuses.

Zeff’s mustache twitches. “All you need to know is that you oughta stop yappin’ when a man wants peace and quiet!”

(Not again.)

As you give up and walk over to draw the curtains, Sanji says your name desperately. “Can we read somewhere else?” he pleads when you glance at him. “I don’t want to be stuck in here with him right now.”

Narrowing your eyes, you appraise his weak-looking frame, pointedly skimming past the red string that snakes over to you. “Can you even walk around yet?”

“Yeah,” he says defensively. He wriggles out of the bed sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Holding onto the side rail, he stands up and grips the IV pole for support. Though he’s a little shaky, he shuffles a few steps towards you and smiles when he manages to do so. “See?”

Well, you think, if you and Sanji stay here, you’ll need to have some light in order to read. But it will probably help Zeff if the room is as dark as possible, so if you guys go somewhere else, Sanji’s lamp won’t need to be on.

“Okay,” you agree. “Wait here. I’ll get some slippers.”

Ten minutes later, with Sanji shuffling along in his slippers, IV pole in one hand and your arm in the other, the two of you arrive at the common room and find chairs in the corner to sit down in.

“These’re mostly history books and stories for old people,” you explain as you pull out the one cooking-related book you could find from the top basket of the cart. “This was the only food one I could find.”

“That’s okay.” Sanji takes the book from you and begins to flip through it. “Oh, this one’s about seafood in the South Blue! Have you ever had any?”

“No.”

“Me, neither. I’ll try it someday, though … hey, this fish looks like a fried egg!”

Against your will, you perk up. “… Really?”

For the next half-hour, Sanji fawns over the spices used on grilled Sea King meat and how to cook wine clams and the best fish for South Blue-style sushi. And it’s … not boring. He doesn’t hog the book, and the pictures are cool, and he asks you which ones you think are the coolest or would taste the best. Looking at a book with another kid is different from reading with an adult. It feels like you’re sharing, not like you’re being tested on your comprehension or how to pronounce long words.

Hanging out with Sanji is okay when the string doesn’t sour it.

“So you want to cook all of these one day?” you ask after scanning through a full-color page of steamed Ocean Hawk feet.

“I want to cook things from all four seas,” Sanji says. His legs bounce with excitement. “That’s why I’m gonna find the All Blue.”

“What’s that?”

The boy glows.

“It’s where the North, East, South, and West Blue seas all meet. Think about it – fresh-caught fish from all over the world all in one place! I’ll be able to cook dishes no one’s ever cooked or tasted before.”

You’ve never heard of such a place. But Sanji talks about it with such conviction, such resolve, that you figure the All Blue could really exist.

“I hope you find it,” you say, and you mean it.

“I will.” Sanji closes the book. “And when I do, I’ll cook something just for you. A-As a friend.”

He peeks over at you, his eyes even brighter and bluer than before, his cheeks flushing a familiar red. And you find yourself believing him, just a little bit.

—

Sanji keeps his promise.

You know he still likes you (blech) and so does most of the staff (double blech). Nurse Taoh thinks it’s funny and teases you about your little boyfriend in Room 8 who always asks where you are. Mrs. Hong reminds you to be sensitive whenever you stop by to pick up meals. Dr. Gu tells you to tell her right away if Sanji ever does something that makes you uncomfortable.

But he never does. Sometimes his words spill out clumsily like a broken faucet and other times he blushes and stutters, leaving you to wonder what he’s going on about, but he doesn’t try to kiss you or hold your hand, and he doesn’t say a word about the red string that is very much still there. If anything, he just annoys you at times, with how nice he is to you and how sunny he gets when you eat lunch with him sometimes.

You’ve never seen somebody so happy to be in a hospital before, even if it’s just because he wants you to like him. It’s weird.

It’s on the eighth day of Zeff and Sanji’s stay that you learn not everything is how it seems.

You’d gotten in trouble the night before for digging holes in the garden – you had kept the seed from your dinner plum and wanted to see if you could make it grow, but Miss Jaylee had caught you while taking Mr. Hu out for some air – so you’re somewhat grumpy on your way to Room 8, two notebooks in hand.

One of them is blank for Sanji. He wants to record all the meals he’s gotten and write down how he would make them. The second notebook is full of your notes that you need to study for your quiz tomorrow.

Zeff is sleeping again when you enter. You move quietly across the room to where Sanji is lying with his back to the door.

“Sanji.” You can see his shoulders tense underneath the sheets, but strangely, he does not roll over to face you. “I have your notebook.”

No answer. That is even stranger.

Frowning, you walk around to the other side of the bed. Sanji moves to bury his face into his pillow, but not before you hear a very soft, wet sniffle.

“Sanji?”

“Sorry.” His voice is high and so muffled you can barely understand him. “You can just leave it on the table.”

“Why are you crying?” In the back of your head, you know it is not the most sensitive thing to ask. But for some reason, you need to know. “I won’t laugh or tell anyone.”

You hear another sniffle from the mop of blond hair. It takes a long time for Sanji to answer, but he eventually does.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

Your brow furrows. “Oh,” you say, somewhat surprised. Most people don’t like being in a hospital, you’re pretty sure of that, but you didn’t know Sanji didn’t like it this much. “Why?”

Maybe he’s tired of getting poked all the time, or the bland food, or the hospital smell. Nobody here can change that. Maybe he’s homesick. The hospital can’t fix that, either.

Sanji turns his head slightly and takes in a small, shuddering breath. “’Cause it … it makes me remember my mum … when she was sick,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear.

“… Oh.”

You had assumed, upon learning that Zeff and Sanji were not at all related, that Sanji was like you and never knew his parents. He’d never talked about having any before, only his time on the Orbit and with Zeff. But he does know them – his mother, at least. And she was sick. The memory is what’s making him so sad, and it’s yet another thing that the hospital can’t help.

You don’t want him to be sad. You did make him your friend, after all, even if he does annoy you sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” you say, standing awkwardly with his notebook still in your possession. You remember what Miss Jaylee has told other patients before. “That, um, must have been really hard for you.”

Sanji squeezes his pillow more tightly.

Should you go? Should you talk to him some more?

“Please don’t tell anybody,” he whispers before you can decide. “Especially Zeff.”

“I won’t,” you reply firmly. “I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry I can’t hang out today. I really wanted to, but, um …”

“It’s okay. We can do it later.”

“Okay.”

You set his notebook and a pen on the bedside table. After some thought, you refill his water and, after even more hesitation, fix the bed sheets on him a bit so they’re not as twisted up. That is the best you can do.

The red string follows you as you quietly leave Room 8, and you don’t think about it at all.

—

“How do you spell necessary?”

“N-E-S-E-S-A-R-Y.”

“That doesn’t look right. I think it’s S-S-A-R-Y.”

“Maybe you can find it in the book,” Sanji suggests, kicking his feet as he lies on his belly next to you.

“Yeah, maybe.” You flip through the pages of your textbook, searching for the correct spelling lest you get marked off again.

It is the tenth day. Sanji is doing alright, and Zeff is up and about with his new leg. Dr. Gu says they’re good to go, so they’re leaving after Zeff finishes breakfast. You’re not sure how to feel about it.

In the meantime, Sanji is helping you with your essay about scurvy. He knows quite a bit about it, which makes sense since he’s lived at sea, and you hope the perspective he’s supplying will impress Dr. Gu.

(“That’s why every ship needs a good cook,” he tells you proudly. “We make sure everyone eats right so they stay healthy.”

“That’s why you and Mr. Zeff are going to have a restaurant ship, right?”

“Mmhm.”)

Sanji rests his face in his hands, cheeks squished against his palms while you continue to scan through your textbook. You finally find the word in a photo caption and, with a triumphant noise, jot it down correctly.

Someone knocks on your door. The two of you turn to face it simultaneously.

“[Y/n]?” It’s Mrs. Guo.

“Yeah?” you call, already slightly irritated.

“Is Sanji there? It’s time for him to leave.”

A frown presses down on your lips. Sanji sighs and gets up as slowly as possible, taking his notebook with him.

“Coming,” he says.

The two of you dawdle on your way to the hospital entrance. You pet Cabby the dog when you run into him and his handler and stop by the kitchen so Sanji can thank the cooks. There’s no rush, not really, but an uneasy feeling continues to well up in your stomach anyway.

Upon arriving at your destination, Zeff waiting at the double doors with a giant bag of treasure slung over his shoulder, Sanji stops and turns to face you.

“I’m – I’m going now,” he says, as if just realizing it.

“Okay,” you say.

You and Sanji stand in silence for a moment before Sanji’s bottom lip starts to wobble.

Yours starts to wobble too. The uneasy feeling in your stomach bubbles up into your throat and behind your eyes.

“I’ll write you,” he blurts, voice cracking. “You’ll come visit, won’t you?”

“I don’t know.” You don’t know if they’ll let you. The hospital is busy and the ocean is big, bigger than you, and you don’t know it at all like Zeff and Sanji do. “But I’ll write back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You are crying now.

For the first time, your arms wrap around Sanji, and he clings back as both of you bawl. Your tears and snot stain the shoulder of his brand-new clothes. Your uniform grows damp at the collar. It doesn’t matter at all.

“I don’t know if I’ll see you again,” you croak into his shirt, face hot and eyes blurry.

His grip tightens. “You will,” Sanji replies in between sniffles. “I know it. Even if it’s when we’re really old, we’ll see each other again.”

“Okay.”

You believe him. Not because of fate, but because you want to.

—

You write to each other every single week for the next ten years. You tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

—

“You seem nervous,” Nami says. “Don’t tell me a little bribery got under your skin?”

“No, no.” You wipe your hands on your thighs and try to relax against the back of the booth. “Just … not used to places like this, that’s all.”

The Baratie is nicer than you imagined. Sanji had kept you up to date over the years, sending newspaper clippings and recipe drafts as the restaurant he and Zeff founded grew in staff members and reputation, but seeing it in person is a whole different deal. You’re telling the truth when you said you’re not used to a place like this.

But it’s not why you’re nervous.

“Hey, look!” Usopp exclaims, pointing across the room. “I think those guys are gonna fight.”

The rest of you look. Near the kitchen, two men are arguing, and the pink-haired man sitting at the table stands up when the pirate shoves his food onto the floor.

Usopp sucks his teeth. “Yikes.”

Luffy leans forward in interest. Zoro simply stares, and Nami rolls her eyes.

One of the waiters approaches them. You watch as he tries to deescalate the situation, but neither party is having it.

The pink-haired man draws a gun.

Within seconds, the gun and both would-be brawlers are on the floor.

The waiter shoves his foot into the pink-haired man’s back to keep him down, then picks up the plate of bread rolls again, stepping over both groaning bodies with the ease of one who’s done it before.

He reassures the other customers as he approaches your booth. You’re not concerned about the fight so much as you are about the way that you know.

It’s been ten years, but you just know, even before he gets close enough for you to see the red string that trails up and disappears into the black of his pants pocket. Even before you see the blue of his eyes and the annoyed set of his brow, exactly the same as you remember.

He places the rolls down onto the table, and for the first time, you wonder what you want.

“Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?”

#aesthetic words prompt list #opla #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #opla sanji #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #soulmate au #woefully inaccurate portrayal of patient treatment and progression of recovery i'm sorry #usually i'd be more of a stickler but this is one piece where people don't die after 85 days eating nothing but their own leg #zeff and sanji definitely aren't ur typical patients anyway even in the opla universe lol

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valerie-is-in-the-cupboard · 2 months

Text

Out of darkness - Chapter One: Lost and Found - Alastor x human!fem!reader

A/N: Hi there! I wanted to share an idea that’s been bouncing around in my head, so I thought I'd let the world in on it. A few things to note:1. Some elements of this story are not canon for the HH universe—they’re mostly here to drive the plot. 2. Alastor might seem a bit different at first, but I aim to portray him as accurately as possible overall. 3. For the sake of the story, he won’t be aroace. 4. Some chapters will contain explicit NSFW content, specifically sexual scenes. To make it easy for you to skip these if they're not to your taste, I'll clearly separate them from the main chapters (e.g. Chapter 3.5, Chapter 4.5 etc.). These chapters won’t impact the main plot, so you won’t miss any essential story elements by skipping them. Please note, the story will also include elements like blood, gore, swearing and violence—integral parts of the Hazbin Hotel universe that cannot be omitted. If you're uncomfortable with any of these aspects, you might want to avoid reading the story altogether. However, if it's just the sexual content you're not interested in, you can simply skip the designated NSFW chapters. TW: Blood, mentions of murder.I hope you enjoy it! <3

Prologue

When a human strays from the right path, their eternity is doomed to be spent in the realm of suffering and pain – Hell. Normally, demons are confined within this place by a barrier, meant to protect poor souls from their wrath. But over time, the barrier’s magic has weakened, creating tiny fissures that link the human and demon worlds.

While these portals are easier for humans and angels to pass through, they have a fatal impact on demonic beings. Most demons are destroyed before they can even step into the human world. Those that do pass through are so weakened that they can be easily killed by human priests or simple humans with strong faith. And once a demon dies in the human world, their soul is forever destroyed. Consequently, demons have learned to ignore these portals, accepting their fate in Hell rather than attempting to escape.

Yet, the world is full of demons. Some live low-profile lives, trying to catch up on everything they missed while away, while others continue their mischief, hoping to go undetected and perhaps extend their existence a bit longer.

Chapter one: Lost and found

Days in Hell were monotonous. Murders, violence, and other horrific acts were considered normal here. Today was one of those days, with Hell engulfed by screams emanating from the infamous Radio Demon’s radio towers. This had been a common occurrence since Alastor spawned in Hell about seventy years ago. People could only speculate about the mystery surrounding his existence, making him even more ominous.

“And with that, my fellow sinners, we end today’s broadcast,” Alastor’s voice echoed through the towers. “I hope your day goes horribly wrong and maybe, just maybe, you’ll hear the next broadcast… or not.” His mischievous laughter sent shivers down the spines of sinners.

Pleased with his work, Alastor exited his tower, heading to buy some venison (or whatever kind of meat people sold here, pretending it was venison). As usual, he wore his wide smile, making everyone move out of his way. No one wanted to mess with the Radio Demon, and Alastor relished his power over the pitiful sinners.

As he walked the streets, a bright light caught his attention. His eyes widened in surprise as a portal opened in a dark alley. Despite his senses warning him, curiosity got the better of him. The thought of returning to the human world, as powerful as he was, never left his mind. He chuckled at the idea and approached the portal, feeling its warmth engulf his hand.

Dark. Everything went dark.

Suddenly, Alastor’s ears were filled with voices, and flashing lights surrounded him. Unbearable pain tore through his body, his skin and flesh being ripped apart. He heard dogs barking and then a loud bang. He woke up, drenched in a thin layer of cold sweat, disoriented and confused. Frantically scanning his surroundings, he realized he was in an unfamiliar apartment, starkly different from the horrors of Hell.

“Hello?” a voice startled him as he turned, only to face an unknown woman, looking at him and holding a cup of tea. She looked… human. Was this the human world? Was he back?

He tried to get up, only to be met with incredible exhaustion, almost like his muscles failed to work. A deep groan escaped his mouth, as he laid back on the soft sofa.

The woman rushed towards him. “It’s ok. I think you need to rest a bit.” She said, placing the cup on the table. Alastor's heart was racing, a feeling of utter confusion and dread overcoming him. This human world was not what he expected and the excruciating pain that he had just endured... it made no sense. As the woman spoke, he looked at her with narrowed eyes, wariness filling his gaze.

"Who... are you?" his voice came out hoarse and unfamiliar to himself.

She softly smiled. “My name is (y/n).” She answered. Alastor's expression barely changed, still wary of the situation. He slowly pushed himself back into a sitting position, wincing slightly from the effort.

"And... how did I end up here? In your... home?" he inquired, his eyes roaming the surroundings, taking in every detail of the room.

“I’ll explain everything. First of all, do you want me to call someone? An ambulance… maybe a relative?”

Alastor's expression hardened even further, a look of confusion on his face. He slowly shook his head, his voice growing a bit colder.

"No. No one. I don't… have anyone." he replied, a pang of loneliness he hadn't experienced in a long time slowly creeping upon him. He continued to look at her, his eyes now more guarded, less vulnerable.

“Well, in this case…” she started, but first handed him the cup of tea, Alastor reluctantly grabbing it. “You were freezing… It’s the middle of November… The last thing you want is getting hypothermia.”

Alastor's expression softened slightly as he looked at the cup in his hands. The warmth from the liquid instantly flooded his senses, a subtle comfort washing over him.

"The weather... It was cold," he murmured as he took a small sip, the hot liquid sending a jolt through his still-weakened body.

The girl smiled, trying to hide the worry in her mind. Maybe he had memory loss or perhaps he was attacked by someone. A thousand questions flooded her mind.

“I found you in front of my door, passed out.” She explained. “It was almost freezing outside and your clothes didn’t seem so… cosy.”

Alastor silently nodded, listening to her words. He took a moment to look down at his attire, his usual red and black suit looking a bit rough. A soft, scoff-like laugh escaped his lips as he realized how ridiculous he must have looked. Suddenly, he looked at his hands… They were human. Confusion washed over him once more as he tried to stand up, looking for a mirror.

“Hey, I don’t think you sho-“ the girl tried to stop him, but the adrenaline kicked in, making him stand up and run to a mirror he saw on a desk. He looked at himself… It was still him but… his human self from when he was alive.

Alastor's eyes widened with shock as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. It was him, yet not at the same time. His human form... He barely recognized it, the last time he saw it so long ago.

"Impossible," he muttered, his hand slowly going to his face, his fingers caressing his human skin, still in disbelief.

(y/n) looked at him confused… and a bit scared. She was waiting for her brother whom, she messaged before Alastor woke up. Truthfully, she was afraid to be alone with a strange man and now knowing he had no one, she couldn’t let him wander alone in this state.

“You seem… confused. Were you attacked by someone?” she asked, genuinely worried.

Alastor's gaze flickered from the mirror to the girl, a mix of confusion and annoyance in his eyes. He hated being in this vulnerable state, being questioned... but he had nowhere else to go.

"Attacked?" he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. "No. I wasn't... attacked," he answered, his eyes falling to the ground for a moment, his thoughts elsewhere, replaying the memories of the portal, the pain...

"I..." he began but then stopped. There was no point in trying to explain it to a human. (y/n) gently touched his arm, making him cringe slightly. Her skin was warm, a stark contrast to his usual coldness. She guided him back to the couch and sat in front of him.

“You need to give me some explanation so I can help you… What’s your name?” she said.

"My... name?" he echoed, his eyes meeting hers. There was a moment of silence, a small battle between his instinct to lie and the strange feeling of… trust. "Al... Alastor." he finally said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Alastor, do you have any place to go?”

Alastor's lips curled into a bitter smile. He didn't have a home and hadn't had one for 70 years. Hell was his home and yet, here he was, sitting in a human's living room.

"No," he replied, his eyes wandering around the room, avoiding her gaze. (y/n) sighed, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, someone rang the door and the girl got up, closing the door of the living room behind her.

Alastor could hear someone come in and then muffled voices.

“What did you want me to do?” (y/n) would almost whisper, frustration in her voice.

“I don’t know, call the police maybe?” a male voice would whisper back, angrily. “It’s not like you found a puppy at your door. You found a man! A man who could've hurt you, (y/n)!”

Alastor could easily hear the conversation from the other room. His eyes narrowed annoyance and dread washing over him. The police... he couldn't afford to get tangled with the police. The door opened and a tall, muscular guy, followed by (y/n) entered, his gaze fixated on Alastor.

“Hey, man!” He said and extended his arm towards Alastor. “I’m David, (y/n)’s brother.” He clarified.

Alastor looked up at David, his eyes studying him. He instinctively recoiled at the sudden presence, not thrilled about the new arrival. Yet, he didn't have much of a choice. He tentatively took the extended hand, shaking it with a firm grip.

"Alastor," he replied plainly, his voice guarded. His eyes darted towards her, still trying to gauge his situation and his chances of escaping it. David sat down, trying to find his words.

“Are you ok? Are you injured or anything?” David asked him.

Alastor let out a low sigh, his eyes roaming over his body. He had no major injuries, just the exhaustion and weakness that came with the... human form.

"No. I'm..." he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, "I'm fine. Just... tired." he answered, his gaze flickering to the side, avoiding David's intense stare. The man prepared to ask more questions when (y/n) intervened.

“Maybe you should rest, Alastor. It’s late and even if you wanted, it wouldn’t be safe for you to leave now. We’ll see what we can do tomorrow, okay?” (y/n) said, smiling, trying to make him relax.

Alastor's gaze slowly shifted towards her, his expression remaining stoic. She was right. He was too weakened now to do anything. He had to think. He slowly nodded, a small gesture but one that came a bit reluctantly.

"Fine. But only for tonight," he replied, his voice firm yet guarded.

(y/n) looked in some of her drawers and took out some clothes, handing them to Alastor.

“My cousin gave me these so I can wear them around the house. I never did though, they’re too big for me. I think they will fit you.” She said. “There’s the bathroom if you wanna take a shower.”

Alastor looked at the clothes, his eyes widening as he analyzed them. He couldn't remember the last time he wore something made from such a soft material. It wasn't his style, but he silently accepted them.

"Thank you," he said, his voice gruff but surprisingly civil. He got up from the couch, the clothes in his hands, and walked to the bathroom.

The warmth of the water engulfed his body, sending shivers down his spine. It seemed like an eternity since showers felt so good. He let the water fall onto his body, thinking about what to do. Should he kill them? But where could he go? He didn’t even know what changed since he died… No, he had to think this through. He had to wait. His thoughts tossed and churned in his head, a maelstrom of emotions and memories. But deep within, there was a flicker of determination, a spark of survival instinct that kept him grounded. He turned off the water and got dressed in the new clothes.

He exited the bathroom and saw (y/n), preparing what seemed to be a bedroom, probably the one he’ll spend his night in. His eyes followed her around. She was… so nice to him, so attentive. It’s been a while since someone acted like this towards him without wanting something in return. She looked at him and smiled.

“Feeling better?” She asked.

Alastor silently nodded, his eyes fixed on her movements. There was something... comforting in her smile, something unfamiliar yet somehow soothing. He walked closer to her, his footsteps a bit more steady than when he first arrived.

"A bit," he replied, his voice still low but lacking some of its earlier sharpness. "You... you have done a lot for a stranger."

She smiled kindly.

“Ah, don’t mention it! It’s the bare minimum.” She said and looked at him, but her expression suddenly turned into confusion. “Hey, are you hurt?” she asked pointing at his shoulder.

Alastor's gaze followed hers, only then noticing the blood on his shoulder. He tried to recall if he felt any pain, but nothing came to mind.

“May I see?” (y/n) asked.

He nodded silently, his voice quiet. "Yeah. Sure," he said. He reluctantly took off his shirt, noticing her blushing at his actions.

He could feel her eyes on the injury as she approached, the proximity making him slightly uncomfortable, but he let her look at his shoulder without protest.

She inspected the wound and rushed to a drawer, taking out a bottle and some bandages. "it seems to be a scratch that probably started bleeding in the shower." she clarified. "May I?" she asked, showing him the supplies, suggesting that she take care of it.

Alastor's eyes darted between the supplies and her face, a hint of irritation in his gaze. He wasn't a fan of being tended to, but he knew he was in no position to protest.

"Fine. Go ahead," he grumbled, his expression guarded, almost reluctant.

(y/n) started taking care of the wound, her warm hands brushing over his skin, making shivers run down his spine. He wanted to hate it but he didn’t entirely.

“Tell me if I hurt you.” She said, but his mind was too preoccupied with taking in every warm touch.

Alastor sat stiffly as she worked on his shoulder, her hands warm against his skin. It was an almost soothing experience, the sensation of her touch, her gentle care, stirring something within him that he had long forgotten.

His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, his instincts screaming at him to withdraw, to push her away. But his heart longed for more.

After bandaging the wound, her hands left his body, coldness attacking it once again. As her hands left his body, Alastor felt a chill run through him, a pang of emptiness filling the space where she once touched. He didn’t want to admit it, but he longed for her warmth, for the strange comfort that she provided without even realising it.

He tried to shake off the feeling, his mind screaming at him to remain cold and detached. But the lingering memory of her touch still burned in his heart.

“I’m gonna bring you a new shirt.” She said and looked at the stained one. “I swear, a part of me hopes you are a serial killer so you can help me get this stain off.” She chuckled. If only she knew who Alastor was…

Alastor allowed a small, wry smile to tug at the corners of his lips at her unintended jest. A serial killer... If only she knew the true extent of his past, the countless lives he had sent to their doom.

He watched her leave, his gaze lingering on the door as it closed behind her. He quietly sat on the edge of the bed, his thoughts swirling in his head, the memory of her touch still warm on his skin.

Shortly after, she returned and handed him the shirt. “You good?” She asked him as he put the shirt on.

Alastor silently slipped the shirt on, the material soft against his skin. He nodded, his gaze meeting hers. "Yeah. I’m good," he replied, his voice a bit more gruff than before.

He was far from “good” he was far from even being “ok”. But there was no way he would let her know that.

She smiled. “I’m in the living room if you need anything. ‘Night, Alastor!” She said and closed the door behind her.

Alastor watched her leave, her gentle smile etched in his mind. As the door closed behind her, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh. The room suddenly felt cold and empty. He lay down on the bed, the silence of the room surrounding him like a shroud.

He tried to make sense of the strange emotions swirling inside him. The warmth he felt in her presence, the comfort of her touch... It was all new to him. Something happened to him through that portal. His demon self was too weakened.

He looked at the ceiling, thinking of what to do. Maybe he should kill them… Before they get too close to finding the truth. He thought a few hours about this. He would kill David first, while he was asleep. There was no way he could take him in a fight in this state, so this was the best solution. As for (y/n)... His stomach twisted a bit at the thought of killing her. He wasn’t a fan of killing women when he was alive either… Besides, she was so kind to him, so sweet. No, he would not kill her. At least not now.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He quickly got up and went to the bathroom, quietly looking through the drawers and he found what he needed.

Alastor silently took the pair of scissors and entered the living room, making sure the two were asleep. He watched (y/n) sleeping on the couch, her knees to her chest. She seemed so peaceful. He had to be quick because he knew she would scream.

He approached David, who slept on the armchair, snoring. Alastor raised the scissors… He had to do it.

Go to: Next Chapter

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #human reader #fem reader #female reader #x reader #x female reader #fanfic #out of darkness

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honeekyuu · 2 months

Text

take the edge off. [suna rintarou x f!reader] chapter three.

>>You struggle with your weight and body image, but Suna extensively and thoroughly undoes all the damage done by other guys.

You haven't gotten laid in over a year, and your best friend takes it upon himself to fix that for you.<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist. || next.

a/n: we are now entering yn's suna-obsessed arc aewfafawef theyre just so horrendously down bad for each other i swear

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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Suna’s decided lack of caution comes with the discovery of two pieces of rather dangerous information.

The first is that you very quickly become used to the feeling of sharing a bed with someone, to the point of relying on it. In the days after that fateful weekend, you fall asleep with Suna’s head on your chest and wake up with his arm draped across your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You aren’t sure how you’d never once learned in passing that he’s the type of man to pull you closer and hold tight when you try to move away, but that knowledge is bad for you.

It’s bad for you to find out, despite your subtle hints that he doesn’t need to do this every night, that he’s adamant about it. That even on the nights where nothing happens between you, he still drives you home from work with the unspoken expectation that he won’t be leaving. That those nights are the worst, truthfully, because he spends them pressing lingering kisses into your skin, his body laid between your thighs only so he can bury his face into the side of your neck and whisper that you look ‘ extra pretty ’ lounging in his t-shirt on your bed.

And when you call him out for it, asking, between warm kisses on flushed skin, why he’s pushing this entirely separate boundary with you when the agreement was strictly sex, it’s bad for you that all he does is smile against you and whisper, in a voice that betrays a warning, ‘ I told you I was done being careful ’.

It seems you’d been woefully unprepared for what he’d meant when he’d said he would fix things.

The second bit of knowledge, equally – if not more – dangerous, is that Suna Rintarou is beautiful in a way that’s forbidden when he blushes. That getting him nervous enough to trigger that flush of embarrassment is easier than you’d thought it would be. That all it takes is for you to treat him the way he treats you, soft and sweet and quiet.

A whisper against his skin, the words ‘ you’re so pretty ’ after you kiss him perfectly sufficient in making his ears warm.

A smile, golden and warm, coupled with the admission of ‘ I missed you’ when he picks you up at work all it really takes to make him scratch at his brow with a shaky laugh, his face a little redder than before.

A question, in the middle of kissing him on his couch, his hands anchored to your waist as you sit comfortably in his lap.

“ Will you tell me what you thought about? ”

“Mm?” He responds, fingers dancing up to the clasp of your bra and tugging curiously.

You breathe your consent, whole and eager, and shiver when he unhooks it. “In college.”

His hand twitches against your skin, and you almost smile, because he’s pulling away with wide eyes.

“In college…?” He blinks, and heat starts to spread across his cheeks. You watch it go, entranced, and nod.

“Please?”

When he swallows nervously and flicks his eyes between yours before looking away, you know you would do anything to see that exact face again and again, as long as he’ll let you.

“Uh-” He smiles, shaking his head. “No, I don’t…” He pauses, thinking, and then shakes his head more forcefully. “No, definitely not.”

You pout, watching how his eyes come back to you just to track it. “Why not?”

“Because it’s fucking embarrassing,” He laughs. “Because I was a horny college kid.”

You tilt your head at him with a smile, combing your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. “Just how horny are we talking here?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do,” You press. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“No,” He groans, and you’re certain that whatever he’s thinking must be bad, because his whole face is radiating warmth. “It’s… I don’t know how you’ll take it-”

“Alright,” You concede, shifting comfortably on his lap and smiling when he clamps onto your hips to still you, something warm pressing between your thighs. “Can I just get some detail? A crumb or two?” You laugh weakly. “It’s been on my mind all week.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair with a pained smile. “…what d’you wanna know?”

“How many times? And when?” You start, launching into questions with a bright smile. “What did I do to make it happen? What did you think about-“

“O- kay ,” He interrupts with a laugh. “I’m not answering that one-“ When you pout again, he shrugs. “You want crumbs or not?”

He laughs when you dejectedly mumble, ‘ I like crumbs ’, and then there’s a moment of silence, one where he eyes you and clearly weighs all his options. You wait as patiently as you can, scanning his face for clues.

Finally, he sighs.

“So, the first time-”

“Out of how many?”

He blinks, and you watch his ears grow red as he scratches at his brow. “How am I s’posed to remember that…?”

Your face splits in a wide grin. “You lost count.”

He scowls, embarrassed. “Four of those times were completely on you.”

“Four! Why four?”

“You gonna let me talk?”

You smile unconvincingly.

“The first one was the accident.” He meets your eyes and then looks away quickly. “You texted me, I was close. That’s it.”

“That’s what you said last time,” You argue. “Give me more than that.”

He groans. “We’d just hung out, and you sent the pictures we took together.“ He shakes his head, going quiet for a minute. “I dunno, I always thought you had a pretty smile, I guess. And I was already close…”

You stare.

“My smile made you come?”

Suna shuts his eyes, smiling wryly. “Said your name and everything.”

It’s your turn to flush, his admission making your nerves tingle. “I like it when you say my name.”

He peeks up at you, starting to smile and bringing your face close to his slowly. “I know you do.” He kisses you carefully, the push of his lips gentle. “But, at the time, I really just wanted to throw myself out a window.”

You grin, kissing him again before asking, “And then? The second time?”

He knocks his forehead softly against yours. “There was that heatwave, before third year.”

Of course it would have been during the heatwave. “Was it the lack of clothes, Suna? Too much skin?” You tease, your smile growing when he laughs.

“It was the dress. ” He shakes his head. “ Fucking summer dress .”

You blink, vaguely remembering a yellow summer dress that you’d been forced to wear. It was the only thing that hadn’t made you want to tear your hair out in that heat.

More importantly, you remember that being the first day you’d ever wondered if Suna was angry with you, because he’d spent the entire afternoon sitting on the couch with his arms crossed and refusing to look at you, his knee bouncing in agitation.

“What about the summer dress?” You ask, immensely interested in this wonderful new insight.

“Not answering that.”

“But-”

“No.” He cuts you off with a smack of a kiss. “The third time was when we went to the beach, and the twins made you sit in my lap in the car.”

You’re surprised by that, because you remember that day quite clearly – Aran and Kita piled into the backseat with Suna, everyone talking over each other and bickering about nothing. You remember being nervous about sitting between Suna’s legs on the bumpy ride there, because it was weird to sit so intimately with him. And because he’d put his hands on your thighs and kept them there the whole time, keeping you from flying around. You remember worrying that your thighs were too big, that they were big but not plush in the way boys like, and that Suna would be the first to find this out about you.

“Really? You seemed totally fine.”

“You had your ass pressed against me the entire time,” He jokes.

“I know, I was there,” You argue, flushing. “But you were so calm about it.”

“Yeah, probably because I was listing volleyball stats in my head to keep sane, and you were not making it better at all with how you kept shifting and moving and being very annoyingly soft in my arms.”

You bark out a laugh. “You kept squeezing my thighs to keep me steady! It was nerve-wracking!”

He blinks, brow furrowed, and a full beat passes.

And then he runs a hand over his face with a groan. “Oh, my God.”

You smack him playfully on the chest, smiling. “What!”

He starts to laugh, hiding behind his hand. “I was probably feeling you up.”

“Feeling me…“ You balk. “No way were you feeling me up.”

“No?” He sets his hands right on your thighs and starts to squeeze, kneading and pulling and dragging his blunt nails lightly down your skin. You shiver visibly and watch him move, taking in how he spreads the pads of his fingers across your thighs and presses you down into his lap. “No way at all?”

He slides his hands up to your waist and drags you flush against him, his lips brushing yours when you put your hands on his chest. “I was being a terrible friend, thinking about doing things to you in front of all our other friends, and you thought I was just keeping you steady ?” He smiles, and you feel it in places you shouldn’t. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“ Tell me ,” You breathe, leaning toward him, your nerves screaming for him. “Tell me what you were thinking about.”

He just tilts his head, green eyes flashing as he watches your mouth come close to his. “ Never .”

You whine, and he cuts it short with a heated push of his lips against yours.

“Please, Rin,” You try, and you feel him tense under your hands.

“You’re funny,” He laughs. “Using my name like that.”

“I want you to tell me.”

“You’ll have to be more convincing than that,” He settles, smiling at you in a wicked, beautiful way. “But, for now, no.” He kisses you once, breathing it into your mouth. “ Don’t ask me again .”

You sigh, pressing your forehead to his and feeling somewhere between annoyed that he’d said no and incredibly aroused that he’d spoken to you like that. “Then tell me about the fourth time.”

That flash of embarrassment comes back, and the warm flush that heats your skin, too. He looks like he’s going to resist, so you dip your head and push your mouth against his.

“Tell me.”

“You-” He laughs, smiling weakly. “-were tying your shoes.”

You blink, pulling away. “Huh?”

“It’s so stupid.” He groans, shaking his head. “You came over to my desk – in that random elective we took together – while I was packing my shit. You literally just bent down in front of me to tie your shoes, that was it.” His laugh turns delirious, as though retelling the story is enough to make him lose his mind. “You were talking about the assignment and tying your shoes in front of my desk, and then you looked up at me-” He drops his head to your shoulder, sighing. “ God, when you looked up at me… ”

You blink rapidly, feeling your face warm as you listen to how he talks about you.

“That’s when I knew I was fucked,” He breathes against your skin, and you feel when he shakes his head lightly against you.

Your heart races just next to where he has his face pressed into your skin. “You thought about me blowing you, didn’t you?” You tease, your body humming under his touch.

He sighs, tightening his hold on you. “That’s not how I would have put it,” He admits, whispering like he doesn’t want you to hear it.

You swallow, your limbs starting to go a bit numb. “It’s not?”

He shakes his head slowly. “It’s too…” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close and burying his face in your neck. You slide your fingers into his hair and scratch your nails against him gently, feeling when he shivers. “...nice.”

Your stomach drops, and you pull away enough to look down at him. “What does that mean?”

He purses his lips, unable to meet your eyes. You watch his face redden.

“This is why I didn’t want you to know,” He complains, his voice strained, and his knee starts to bounce nervously, jostling you in his lap. “I never really cared with other girls, but I don’t want to turn you off.”

There’s a piece of you that burns with jealousy that there are girls in the world – in this city , even – that know something about Suna Rintarou that you don’t. But a bigger part of you is desperate to hear what he has to say.

“You won’t,” You assure him. “I promise you won’t.”

He scratches his neck, thinking. “You mentioned that first night that you like things… well, rough.” He swallows. “But I don’t know how rough you meant, so I didn’t want to push it-”

Your lips part while you stare down at him.

“Tell me,” You whisper to him, grabbing his face when he starts to shake his head. “Tell me,” You repeat. “You want me to beg? I will.”

He breathes out a laugh, but you feel him harden slightly against your inner thigh, so you push.

“You said you wanted me to have everything I want, that you were mad that I haven’t yet,” You say, feeling his hands tighten on your waist.

“I did,” He breathes, voice tight. “But-”

“Well, I want this,” You lean forward, pressing your lips against his. His hand cups the back of your head, and he kisses you softly. You pull away just enough to look into his eyes, so green and so close to giving you what you want.

“ I want you to give me this, Rin .”

Your stomach flips and your body fills with that fluttery feeling you’re starting to get around him, because you can pinpoint the exact moment you convince him, his hesitant eyes hardening into something that almost makes you nervous.

That night, when he presses your face into his mattress and makes you scream his name, his fingers are tangled brutally in your hair and your hands are clinging uselessly to his bed frame. When you come around him, your back tight against his chest, he’s got one hand wrapped around your throat and the other pressing thumbprint bruises into your hip with how tight he’s holding you.

When he mumbles the word ‘ mine’ against the shell of your ear just before moaning your name and spilling into you, you know things with Suna Rintarou have changed.

–

In the week that follows, the change in your relationship manifests in ways you hadn’t expected.

On Monday, he tells you he has to go out of town in a week.

“There’s an art convention happening in Tokyo,” He says, circling you in the kitchen to make coffee. “They invited me to speak at a panel, something about art styles and careers.”

“That’s amazing!” You turn at the stove, beaming up at him. When he just shrugs, you nudge him. “That’s really cool, Rin. You should be more excited.”

He flushes and shakes his head with a laugh, and you realize just a moment too late that you’d called him Rin.

You clear your throat, turning back to make sure your food doesn’t burn. He’s refused breakfast every day for the past week, but you’ve learned that if you set a simple piece of toast next to his coffee cup, it mysteriously disappears when you’re not looking.

Still, cooking for just yourself in his apartment is a new habit, one that he encourages by restocking his fridge every few days with foods you know he doesn’t like.

“How long will you be gone?” You ask, plating your breakfast and following him to the couch.

“A week.” He pulls his laptop out from under the coffee table, kicking his feet up. “You should stay,” He says without looking up.

You blink, still processing the fact that it had felt like a punch in the gut to learn that he’d be gone an entire week. “Stay where?”

“Here.”

“Here?”

He purses his lips, glancing at you playfully. “Yes, here .”

You roll your eyes. “I have an apartment, Suna.”

If he thinks anything of the name change, he doesn’t say it. He just goes back to his laptop, and you see that he’s booking flights. “I’m aware. But if you stay here, then you can make everything smell like you.”

You stare, wondering if he realizes what he’s saying. That he wants you to live here while he’s gone, that he wants you to leave traces of yourself for him to find later.

“Uh,” You warm, staring down at your breakfast with unseeing eyes. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

You can see the question in his eyes when they flick to you quickly. “Alright. Well, regardless,” He sighs, nodding toward the little key bowl in his entryway while typing away. “Take the car. I don’t want you on the train after work.”

You have nothing to say to that, your ears thrumming with your heartbeat as you remind yourself that Suna’s just a friend.

–

On Tuesday, Osamu kicks you out of the shop, piling your arms high with containers of baked goods. They’re new recipes for Suna to sample and give his brutally honest opinion on, but the twin had only kicked you out in the middle of the working day because you wouldn’t stop asking him about his date with Yachi. You’d prodded about everything – what he’d wore, what they’d ordered to eat, what they’d talked about – and he’d given you every single detail with only a little embarrassment.

But the second you’d suggested he walk down the road to her shop to say hello, he’d all but put his foot on your ass and launched you out of the store.

“Don’t come back until closing,” He warns, shutting the jingling door in your face.

When you walk into Suna’s shop thirty minutes later, juggling boxes full of cakes and pastries, he’s finishing up with a client that should be on the cover of a magazine.

“Oh,” He says in surprise, eyes widening when he sees you. “Hey.”

You stand there, feeling painfully out of place while the woman looks you over. He’d tattooed her ribcage, and she’s got one hand on his shoulder to keep her arm lifted while he wraps the finished piece.

“Samu kicked me out,” You say dumbly, jostling the boxes with an awkward laugh. That hand she’s got on him is making your blood pressure rise. “I can just leave these in your office and go.”

Suna doesn’t see the woman look between you, too busy narrowing his eyes at you. “I’ll be done in a sec,” He says carefully, nodding toward his office. “Wanna wait for me?”

“You seem busy.”

It’s cold enough to draw his eyebrows up high on his forehead, and the woman’s lips lift in the ghost of a smirk. You want to curl up and die.

“I’m not,” He says cleanly, finally seeming to realize that you’re not looking at him but over his shoulder at the girl who’s eyeing you like you’re less than her. “Give me two minutes, and then I’m all yours.”

His smile is knowing when your gaze flicks back to him, and you catch a tinge of annoyance coloring the woman’s smile.

You say nothing, turning to head to the back and trying to stop the twinge of pleasure that comes when you hear him call out to his assistant.

“ Block my schedule, Suki, will you?”

“You got it – for Y/n?”

“Who else?”

When he joins you in his office, you’re rolling your eyes. “That was cheesy.”

“Incredibly,” He smiles, dropping down on the couch next to you. “But you were acting jealous, so, obviously, the situation was dire.”

“I was not-” You scoff. “I was not jealous .”

“No, no, of course not.” He reaches to unstack the boxes you’d left on the table, opening one. There’s a set of muffins inside, all different flavors. “Just looked like you wanted to stab her with one of my tattoo needles, that’s all.”

“ She had her hand on your shoulder ,” You grumble, breaking a piece off of the muffin that you’re certain is blueberry lemon. You hand him the rest, ignoring the smile he’s giving you.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He takes a bite, and you do the same. It’s a little too sweet, and the way Suna’s face pinches tells you he feels the same. You make a note of it for Osamu. “It won’t happen again,” He continues, setting the pastry down.

“No,” You sigh, feeling guilty. “You don’t have to accommodate me. I’m just being bratty, it’s fine.” Your exes had never liked your insecure streak, claiming it made you look childish.

But Suna displays no sign of feeling the same, just shrugging as he reaches for another muffin. “It upset you, right?” When you say nothing, he glances at you with a small smile. “Okay, so it won’t happen again. Simple.”

There’s a knock on the door, one you barely hear while trying to understand how that conversation had been so easy. He stands, pulling the door open.

“Oh. What’s up?” He says, a bit confused.

You glance up, finding his client there smiling up at him beautifully. Her eyes meet yours, and a brow lifts curiously. You look down at yourself, finding muffin crumbs all over your shirt, and you brush them off with an embarrassed flush.

“I just wanted to give you your tip in person,” The woman says, her voice dripping in honey. She presses a wad of cash into his palm and then lays a perfectly manicured hand on his bicep. “You were really good. Can I come see you again?”

You swallow, ears burning. But Suna just calmly pulls away from her, stepping back to hand the cash to you while her hand flops uselessly at her side. You take the money with wide eyes.

“Guess dinner’s on me tonight,” He smiles down at you and ignores the girl briefly, and you see there’s a hint of irritation in his expression. “I was starting to feel guilty with you cooking every night.”

The woman watches the money pass from Suna’s hand to yours, and you swear she’s imagining several ways to kill you and get away with it.

He turns back to her and smiles politely. “I’d definitely be down to work with you again, but you can just make appointments and leave payment with Suki in the future. I suck at keeping track of it all.”

You almost feel bad for how hard he shuts her down, but you’re too busy wondering what alternate universe you’ve walked into. Suki’s voice in the hall only adds to the chaos.

“ You’re still here?”

Suna laughs, because she’s adding ‘ I swear, I go to the bathroom for two minutes and you get ambushed. ’

The girl fumbles, her composure falling when she looks back at Suki. “I-”

“ And you can’t come back here like this ,” Suki interrupts, and you wish so badly that you could see her sassy little face. “ This is a private area .”

You busy yourself with opening cake boxes so your pleased grin is hidden behind your hair. You don’t see how the moment ends, but Suna’s closing the door soon and coming back to the couch with a sigh.

“How was that?” He asks, reaching for a plastic fork so he can dig into the layer cake you’re presenting him with. He hums when he tastes it, nodding. “‘s good.”

You nod, putting it down. “You were horrible and I enjoyed every second.”

“Perfect, then,” He says, reaching for another open cake box. “What do you want for dinner?”

You’re quiet, remembering how his client had looked down on you, you with your clothes that don’t fit right and the muffin crumbs on your shirt. Your stomach turns with the distantly familiar and always unpleasant urge to be hard on yourself.

It slips out, despite years of learning how to coach yourself out of it.

“I’m not too hungry today,” You start, brushing lint from your pants. “The cake is filling me u- mm- ”

Your face squishes between his fingers, cutting you short and forcing you to look up at him. He stares back and squeezes your face hard.

“I don’t like where your head just went,” He says plainly, and you take it as a warning.

“ Suna- ”

“I’m buying us dinner. You’re going to eat it, right?” He lifts a brow.

You swallow, mumbling through his hold. “ Right. ”

“Good,” He smiles. “Curry sound good?”

You blink rapidly when he forces you to nod, because he’s only allowing one answer. “ I like curry. ”

“Yeah.” He finally lets you go, but you stay close, breathing him in while he holds eye contact. “You do.” He holds his fork between you, eyes flicking to the cake he’d just tasted. “Try it. It’s good.”

You take it and move almost mechanically to spear into the dessert. Only when you lift the bite to your mouth does he stop watching you.

Wordlessly, he pulls his phone from his pocket and leans back against the couch, opening his delivery apps to look for curry. You watch him scroll away, hit again with that strange realization that you’ll miss him desperately next week.

–

On Wednesday, he starts making jokes about your relationship.

A text lights up your phone just as you’re explaining the many tea options in your shop to a young girl who looks wonderfully excited to try something new. You ignore the text for a moment, finishing up with her and then leaving her to talk with her parents.

You reach for your phone, refusing to acknowledge that you’d hoped it’d be him.

[12:56 PM]

Sunarin : i have to go to the bank to take out cash for my trip

Sunarin : go with me?

You smile, a bit warmed by him asking you to do something so domestic with him. Sleeping semi-permanently in his bed and drinking your coffee together in the morning is arguably far more domestic than this, but there’s something different about being in public with him. The idea of your dynamic stretching into places where other people can see it makes your nerves light up.

You : scared to face the bank tellers yourself?

Sunarin : terrified

Sunarin : go with me, ill buy you a sweet treat after

You : you need to put the internet down for a few days

You : all those tiktoks about gfs and their sweet treats are not about us

Sunarin : yes they are

Sunarin : go with me

You stare down at nothing, dissociating as you process what he’d just said. You hear the girl deciding at the counter that she wants to try the french vanilla earl grey that you’d said was popular, so you type out a quick response and throw your phone on the counter.

You : smh fine

You come back after ringing the family up for their drinks, Haru tearing the order from the printer beside you.

Sunarin : see? youre just a sweet treat gf

When he picks you up after work, your face burns and your stomach flutters the entire way to the bank. He slides his hand over your thigh halfway there, and you hide your face in your hands.

He doesn’t ask what’s making you nervous, and you don’t ask what he’d meant. You have the distinct feeling that you don’t need to.

At the bank, the teller mistakenly calls you his girlfriend while making small talk, and he doesn’t correct her.

When he pulls you into his lap that night, you’re overheating and trembling just a little bit as you start to really wonder what you are to him. There’s a piece of you that foolishly thinks that him being rough in bed will remind you that you aren’t anything, really. That your friends with benefits arrangement is as it was before.

But he doesn’t fuck you the way you expect him to. He just buries his fingers in your hair and breathes the words ‘Stop overthinking this’ into your ear. You relax against him, and then he fucks you slow, rewarding you for listening and talking you over the edge with him in a way that makes you want more.

You want more with him.

–

Thursday is uneventful – or, at least you think it is, because you have no time in the day to think or process anything that’s happening with you and Suna. The Black Jackals are playing, so your shop has a line out the door and around the corner. You and Haru play a game he likes to call ‘Dodge or Die’, where you have to be perfect at avoiding each other or risk spilling someone’s drink all over the other’s head.

Suna texts you a few times throughout the day, but you don’t get a chance to look at them until it’s nearly closing time. When you check, you see that there’s just a couple memes and a separate reminder to eat and drink water, because he knows exactly what kind of day you’re having.

He doesn’t make another joke about you being his girlfriend, and – although you weren’t expecting a high frequency of that, considering it’s been less than 24 hours – you wonder if maybe you’d overdone it last night. You wonder if you’d betrayed your feelings too much, if he’d seen that you’d taken it as more than a joke and now he’s laying off.

You sit in your office, staring at the wall as those thoughts spin circles around your head, and you dread having to text him back.

He calls before you have time to figure out what to say, your phone lighting up on your desk.

Your heart drops.

“Hello?”

“ Done with work? ”

His voice makes your palms sweat, and you recognize that that’s a terrible sign for you keeping your feelings in check.

“Yeah,” You sigh. “It was exhausting, but a busy day’s always good.”

“ And we have celebration drinks tomorrow .”

You vaguely recall Atsumu texting your group chat after the game, declaring a get-together with the Black Jackals at some bar downtown tomorrow night.

“Oh, yeah… That’ll be fun.” You cringe, hearing how awkward you sound. There’s a pause, one where you think he must be deciding what to say.

“ Do you want me to come pick you up? Or do you want space? ”

You drop your head to your hand, tears pricking behind your eyes. The fact that he’s asking means he’d noticed – because he always notices – that something’s different with you now. You’re terrified to find out what that means on his end.

“Uhm,” Your voice wavers, and you want to throw your phone in the trash. “Maybe space…?”

It’s better. It’s best there’s space. Maybe space would fix things – force your head back onto your shoulders. Bring you back down to reality, the one where Suna is entirely out of your league and you’re better off not becoming delusional about your relationship with him.

“ Okay ,” He says, and then there’s quiet. “ Do you want me to ask you again? ”

He makes you feel safe in a way that scares you.

“... Yes ,” You whisper, because you’re certain your voice would crack otherwise.

“ Do you want me to pick you up? ”

“Yes.”

You were right. Your voice does crack.

“ Give me ten minutes to close up? And then I’ll head over. ”

“Okay.”

Later, when he leads you by the hand to his couch and sits you down, it’s between his legs, his arms belted tight around your middle and holding your back against his chest. You watch TV in silence, and then – when you finally gather the courage to face him – you turn in place, climbing into his lap and burying your face in his neck. He hugs you tight, waiting.

“ ‘m sorry ,” You mumble, heartbeat thrumming in your veins. He presses his head to your shoulder, arms warm around you.

“For what?”

“Running.”

You feel him smile.

“Does that mean you’ll stop running?”

“I can try,” You laugh weakly.

“If I ask you to,” He starts, sighing into your skin. “Will you?”

You tighten your hold on him and nod, pressing a hesitant kiss to his pulse point. “I’ll do my best.”

“ Promise ?” He wraps his fingers in your hair. “Promise you’ll stay?”

Your face burns, but you nod again. “Promise.”

“ That’s my girl ,” He whispers.

You desperately want him to mean that.

–

On Friday morning, you wake to Suna’s lips on your throat. You feel him climbing between your thighs, and it takes several seconds to gain your bearings. You blink rapidly, feeling his hands sliding under your shirt, palms hot on your skin.

“ Mm ?” You ask, fingers carding into his hair on instinct.

“ Sorry ,” He murmurs. “ Woke up a little needy .” He kisses down the length of your throat, hands wandering, unseen. “ You look really good in my shirt. ”

You shiver, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. It’s almost 9. “We don’t have time-”

“I know,” He says quickly, warm hands cupping your breasts. “But, can we?” He kisses you, lips full and tempting. “I just… I’m not gonna see you all day, and, when I do see you, it’s gonna be at the bar with other people, and after last night, I just want-” He buries his face in your neck, letting out an unhinged laugh. “ Fuck .”

“What?” You breathe, already lifting your hips by the time he cautiously hooks his fingers into your panties. You find, unsurprisingly, that you like it most when he blushes the way he is now. “What is it?”

“‘ s embarrassing ,” He mumbles, preoccupying himself with watching how your underwear looks sliding down your thighs.

You laugh quietly. “I think we’re past that.”

“I dunno how to say it.”

“Try.”

He groans, and you use your grip on his hair to force him to look at you. You kiss him, mumbling ‘ Try ’ against his lips.

He hides in your neck again, pushing his boxers down to his knees blindly. He slides his cock between your folds, sighing heatedly when you shiver and whisper his name.

“I want to-” He rocks against you, a quiet moan falling past his lips when he feels how wet you’re getting. You feel more than hear when he, in a voice that wavers just enough to warm you, finally says what’s on his mind. “ Wanna come inside you .”

Your heart jumps. “You do that every time,” You say, knowing full well that that’s not what he’s saying.

He shakes his head anyway, swallowing after a moment. “ Wanna ruin you .”

There it is. What he really wants.

Your head explodes in white noise, your fingers going numb where you hold tight to him.

The head of his cock nudges against your entrance, and he’s lifting his head to kiss you once, both your lips parting in silent moans when he slips just inside.

“Yes,” You breathe, nodding your consent. Your heart is racing everywhere in your body, his admission ringing in your ears. “ Please do .”

His eyes roll slightly back as he pushes fully into you, his sigh shaky as he whispers ‘ Fuck ’ against your mouth.

The pace he finds is one that has your lungs crying for air.

You dig your nails into his back, stomach lurching when he moans in response and throws his arm out to grip the headboard.

“ Feel so good ,” He whispers. “Always so good. Better than I’d imagined.”

A memory of him admitting that he’d lost track of the times he’d thought about you flies through your head.

You breathe his name, stumbling over your words.

“I-Is this what you thought about in college? Fuck …Fucking me like this?”

He groans, head hanging over you as he nods. “Yes– fuck –yes-” He slams his hips against yours, again and again, his pace uneven and desperate. “Thought about you all the time. Hated myself, but I couldn’t-” He shakes his head, laughing slightly. “ I was obsessed with you. ”

You clench around him, throwing your head back and moaning his name. His lips brush against your ear, his voice tight.

“ I think I still am. ”

The coil in your navel lurches, yanking tight and pulling you close. You stutter over it, clinging tight to him. “ Rin , I’m-”

He shudders, and you feel him twitch inside of you. “This is mine,” He breathes when your walls start to flutter around him. “I need this– I want you to need this.” He tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling taut and keeping his mouth pressed to your ear. “ You belong right here, wrapped around me just like this- ”

You think he might be the first one to go tumbling over the edge, his hips stilling when he spills into you with a groan of your name, but you follow so close behind that you can’t say for certain who went first.

After you come down, you find that he’s kissing you, lips moving lazily against yours. You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him for a while just like that – him still buried between your thighs and your hearts still racing against each other.

“Thank you for not letting me run,” You whisper eventually, kissing him earnestly and feeling when he smiles into it.

“Your avoidant anxiety is going to be the thing that kills me. You know that, right?”

You don’t let him go for another hour, and Osamu’s incredibly unimpressed when you walk into work two hours late.

–

You go home on your own after work, Suna texting to let you know he’s got a late client and will just meet you at the bar.

Your brain still tingles every time you think about the events of the morning, his admission of being obsessed with you keeping you light on your toes all day. You sort through your closet, humming, and feel a kind of confidence that’s entirely foreign to you.

Thinking back, you realize how silly it is that you’d retreated so far into yourself after Wednesday. He’d admitted, in vulnerable detail, all the things he thought of you in college, and then he’d asked you to stay at his house while he’s on his trip. He’d taken you seriously when you’d gotten insecure in his office, and he’d told you on more than one occasion to stop overthinking so much. To just follow him and see where things go.

He’d admitted he was obsessed with you.

How could you possibly disrespect that by ignoring every sign he’s given you from the start? You don’t have to worry with him – you just have to stop thinking.

Your hand passes over a dress, pushing it down the clothesline, and then you’re stalling and bringing it back. A yellow summer dress, the only one you own. You glance out the window in thought. It’s warm enough for this to be admissible, but will it fit? You haven’t worn this in years.

You throw it on, examining yourself in the mirror. You normally wouldn’t be comfortable with it, sensing how tight it gets around the tummy before it hangs loosely around your thighs, and it’s a bit short. But it’s also nearly summer, and you’re going to a bar with your friends.

It should be fine, right?

You weigh the idea, turning back and forth and looking yourself over.

The memory of Suna whispering ‘ Wanna ruin you ’ in your ear makes goosebumps break out all over your skin.

“Alright, fuck it,” You tell yourself, swiping your phone off the vanity and leaving your room before you can change your mind.

When you get to the bar, you realize that you’d taken so long to get ready that Suna’s already there. The entirety of the Black Jackals is piled up in a corner, rowdy and excited around a few tables as they throw back a round of shots.

You squeeze past a group of girls, finding Suna talking to Atsumu off to the side. You try to head toward him, but there’s an absolute mountain of a man cutting you short.

“ Y/n! You look so pretty! ” Bokuto yells, your eardrums screaming for mercy. You look up at him, laughing awkwardly.

“Jesus, Bo-” You catch movement over his shoulder, and you look, seeing that Suna’s turning in your direction, since Bokuto had announced your arrival.

He’s mid-sip when he turns, but the moment he lays eyes on you, they’re going wide. He chokes, spraying his drink all over Atsumu’s face. The blond just stands there covered in Suna’s ejected drink, deadpan, and you spot Sakusa in the back, bent at the waist and pounding a fist on the table as he laughs into his hand. Osamu’s not far away, shaking his head with an amused grin but more preoccupied with keeping his attention on Yachi, who looks impossibly pretty beside him.

Bokuto sees nothing, going in for a crushing hug. “If I’d known you’d dress up like this for us whenever we win, we’d be unstoppable!”

It’s only the hand Hinata sets on Bokuto’s arm that frees you, the ginger peeling his senior off of you. “You’re killing her, Bokuto,” He laughs, hugging you quickly when you wheeze out a quiet ‘ Thanks, Shou’ and rub at your arms.

“Here to break hearts again?” He asks cutely, eyeing you appreciatively. “Looks like it to me.”

“Just one heart,” You say shyly, glancing at where Suna is patting napkins against Atsumu’s wet skin with a sheepish smile. He meets your eyes briefly, and you watch him scan the length of your body. There’s a suspicious pink tint coloring his ears, but he just shakes his head and turns back to Atsumu.

Hinata follows your gaze, nodding with a quiet ‘ Ah’. “Seems like you’ve already done it, then,” He laughs, referencing the way Suna keeps glancing back at you with an increasingly redder face. You smile, squeezing Hinata’s arm before pointing at the bar.

“I think I’ve got a bit of catching up to do-” You gesture at Sakusa, who’s still howling with laughter in a way that’s unlike him, his glowing face telling you he’s close to plastered.

Hinata lets you go, and you make your way to the bar. The girl working is nice enough, but you can see her looking you over while she makes you a vodka cranberry. The way her eyebrows lift after she assesses you makes it clear that she’s not going to compliment your outfit anytime soon.

“Y/n!”

You jump, turning to find Yachi all but running to join you. She bumps you with her shoulder, beaming up at you.

“You look so freaking good,” She says, wrapping her arms tight around you. “This new style you’re trying is killer. I didn’t realize how hot you were until the party at Atsumu’s,” She giggles, and you laugh as you hug her back. She’s a little drunk, but her compliments warm you and make you adore her more than ever.

“You haven’t seen yourself, little miss Hitoka,” You tease. “Samu looks like he’s going to curl up in a ball any minute now.”

She blushes, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “He’s so sweet,” She says, smiling to herself before looking up at you. “He told me you were always pushing him to make a move. I’m so happy he did.”

You glance back, catching the way Osamu’s looking at her. He sees you watching and meets your eyes, smiling knowingly and then gesturing to your dress. You get a thumbs-up of approval, one that helps your confidence in ways he probably will never realize, especially since you can still feel the bartender watching you.

You turn back to Yachi with a bright smile. “You two look really good together. I’m probably breaking a million rules by telling you this, but,” You lean forward conspiratorily, and she comes close with wide eyes so you can whisper to her. “ He really likes you .”

She hides her face right away, her happy giggles making you love her just a little bit. She smacks you playfully on the arm, shaking her head.

“You’re one to talk – you didn’t see Suna ruin Atsumu’s night earlier?”

You laugh, sipping your drink. “He’s so stupid.”

It’s lovesick, even to your ears.

Yachi hums in disbelief. “That man likes you , Y/n. You can’t tell me you don’t see that.”

The words ‘ I was obsessed with you ’ ring in your ears.

“That-” You laugh, staring down at your drink with a warm face. “-would be something, huh?”

You talk to her at the bar for a while, and then she’s glancing over your shoulder curiously.

“I better leave you now,” She says with a smile. When you just tilt your head, she lifts a shoulder in a shrug, turning away from you. “I’m gonna pretend Samu just called my name from across the bar.”

And then she’s gone, leaving you with an empty drink and no idea what’s just happened.

You wave the bartender down, ordering another vodka cranberry. She’s just as almost-nice as before, her eyes judgmental when she scans you again. She leaves you feeling a bit out of place, but there’s a body pressing against yours before you can fall into it.

“ What in the ever-loving fuck did I do to deserve this? ”

You tense, Suna’s voice in your ear making your heart jump. You turn, seeing how close he is as he leans his elbows on the bar. He lifts his brows, waiting.

“What?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I just thought it’d be nice to dress up for the celebration.”

“Celebration, my ass,” He grumbles, looking you over. “You haven’t worn that since college.”

“Oh, really? Interesting that you noticed,” You say, looking down at yourself and pretending not to see the way his eye twitches.

“ Y/n ,” He breathes, and you feel the impatience in his tone. “You’re killing me. Miya already threatened to charge me for his dry-cleaning-”

“What can I get you?”

You both turn, finding the bartender standing there. She slides you your drink but keeps her eyes firmly on Suna, her gaze trailing over his inked arms and piercings.

He pretends not to see it, just glancing at the wall of hard liquor behind her. “A Jack and Coke is good, thanks.” And then he turns back to you, leaning close. “What did Hinata say to you when you came in?”

You smile, about to tease him for acting jealous, but the bartender’s interrupting again.

“I’ve never seen you in here before,” She says, smiling flirtily at him.

Suna blinks slowly at her, and you watch disinterest glaze over his eyes. “Just here to celebrate with some friends.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw them-” She nods to where Atsumu and Sakusa are bickering and laughing at each other. “Those are the Black Jackals, right? Crazy that you know them.” She looks at him again. “Could you introduce me?”

“You could just introduce yourself when they come order their drinks,” He suggests, standing to his full height and crossing his arms.

You sigh, because you know that he’s trying to warn her off, but he only makes things worse – his tattoos and piercings on top of his height are guaranteed to make her want him more.

Sure enough, her eyes light with interest when she realizes how tall he is, and she starts to push harder while she makes his drink. You reach into your pocket for some cash while she talks, just wanting to pay her for your drink and get the hell away from her. There’s another bartender further down the room – you can just go to him for your drinks tonight.

“Maybe I could,” The woman says, smiling and sliding his drink across the bar to him. “I should probably start with you, huh?”

“You could certainly try,” He smiles back, but you see that it’s mocking.

She takes it as encouragement, leaning over to hold a hand out to him. “Kaori. Sure would be a shame for you to leave here alone tonight.”

He stares down at it, and you’re smacked with the memory of every time he’d left one of your exes hanging. The unimpressed flick of his eyes to yours drives the nostalgia home.

“What makes you think I’m alone?”

You twirl the folded cash between your fingers, waiting with growing irritation. This woman had interrupted your conversation – clearly personal – more than once, and she shows no sign of letting up, even though you’re still here beside him.

The twinge of irritation twists into cold anger when she just pulls her hand back and glances over his shoulder, examining the table full of your friends. The only other girl there is Yachi, and it’s obvious who she’s with.

“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re with anyone.”

“You sure about that?” You snap.

Her eyes fly to you, and you see Suna’s head turn just the same. Your face burns, but you’re too angry to feel embarrassed. You lay a set of bills on the bar that should cover both your drinks and then meet her eyes.

“Because it looks to me like he’s taken.”

You hold eye contact with her for just a moment longer before lifting your eyes to Suna’s.

He’s looking at you like he never has before. His face is flushed and his smile is shy, and it makes your nerves flip to think that’s because of you, but it’s his eyes that catch you – bright and full of pride, he looks at you like you’ve given him something he thought might never come.

Veins humming with affection for this man in front of you, you swipe your drink off the bar and turn, walking away. He appears at your side in an instant, a hand pressing against your lower back.

“What was that?” He asks, voice betraying the laugh he’s suppressing.

“Next time, try not to make it clear just how attractive you are, please,” You mutter, rolling your eyes and letting him walk you to a couple seats in the back.

“I was just minding my business,” He teases, smiling as he leans his elbows on the table and meets your eye. You mirror him, leaning close.

“Well, she was minding mine .”

You leave him there, sitting at the table with his face buried in his hands and his ears red under the dim bar lights. You make your way back to Hinata, sitting with him and Bokuto and watching with a smile as they recount the previous day’s match in unrealistic detail. Your phone buzzes in your purse, and you make a point of barely glancing at it, because you can feel his eyes on you.

[7:17 PM]

Sunarin : possessive looks really fucking good on you

–

You manage to avoid him for the better part of the night, dancing around his every attempt to join you while you mingle with the MSBY boys. You can tell that the bartender must think you two are fighting because of her – she does her best to catch Suna’s eye whenever he asks the other bartender for a drink. It makes you smile, because he stands there every time, oblivious to her desperate act as he types furiously on his phone.

It just so happens that your phone buzzes repeatedly in your purse around that time, too, text after text keeping him from even realizing there’s another woman in the room vying for his attention.

[8:01 PM]

Sunarin : you never told me what hinata ended up telling you

Sunarin : he was checking you out though

[8:28 PM]

Sunarin : why arent you letting me sit next to you

Sunarin : y/n

Sunarin : sit next to me damn it

[9:15 PM]

Sunarin : woman if you dont stop leaning over to talk to bokuto across the table

Sunarin : your ASS is OUT

[9:57 PM]

Sunarin : fucking hell what do you want from me

Sunarin : why are you torturing me

You laugh at that, unable to stop your smile after so many drinks and so many attempts on his end to get your attention. Another text comes in almost immediately.

Sunarin : i fucking SAW THAT

Sunarin : tell me what you want

Sunarin : i will do literally anything

Your head swims from the alcohol, and you type back exactly what’s on your mind.

You : youre cute when youre obsessed

When he doesn’t respond, you look up, finding that he’s staring right at you with knowing eyes, the glow of his phone lighting up his face. He lifts a brow, typing a response without looking away.

Sunarin : so thats what this is ab

You swallow, suddenly nervous with the way he’s staring at you. You phone buzzes, and you break eye contact to read it.

Sunarin : you been thinking ab that all day, baby girl?

Mother of all fuck.

You breathe a shaky sigh and turn away from him while you think.

Sunarin : aw, did i make you nervous?

You groan, rubbing at your brow.

You : youre funny

Sunarin : and youre lying

You blink rapidly, unsure what to do with that. And then you lock your phone quickly, because there’s a body bumping into yours.

It’s Sakusa, looking like he’s on another dimension of drunk.

“ Y/n, ” He slurs, draping his arms around you and leaning his cheek on top of your head.

“Hi, Kiyoomi,” You laugh, wrapping an arm around his waist, careful not to put your actual hands on him, because even trashed, he’s holding his own away from your body.

“ You know something? ” He asks, and you struggle to hear him over the noise of the bar. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at it.

Sunarin : whats wrong y/n

Sunarin : dont want sakusa to know youre thinking ab how i fucked you this morning?

You turn the screen away from the man hugging you, lowering your brightness in a panic.

“I get the feeling you’ll tell me,” You joke, wincing when Sakusa tightens his hold. Are all these guys unaware of their strength? They’re professional athletes, for fuck’s sake.

“ Tsumu really loves you, Y/n,” He says, swaying. “ He loves you so much – he just wants you to be happy .”

Your heart swells, and you’re glancing over at Atsumu, who’s dancing like an idiot with Meian. You can only imagine how much he has to talk about you for Sakusa to be saying this right now.

“ I love you, too, now, ” Sakusa presses a drunken kiss into your hair. “ Tsumu’s made me love you, Y/n – we want you to be happy. ”

You press your face against his chest, hoping he can feel how much that sentiment warms you.

Your phone buzzes.

Sunarin : did he just kiss you

You : suna hes shitfaced

Sunarin : try again

You sigh, squeezed tight in Sakusa’s oblivious hold.

You : rin, please

Sunarin : cute

Sunarin : so fucking cute

You struggle to glance behind you, but you see that Suna’s at the table, smile amused.

Sunarin : do you want to find out how obsessed i am with you?

You : dont do anything stupid

You : hes not even on the same plane of existence as us rn

Sunarin : oh i wont

Sunarin : but i wouldnt mind if he watched me explain to you how many times ive thought about fucking you in that dress

Your eyes widen, and you’re pressing the screen to your chest and glancing up at Sakusa. He’s still swaying, eyes closed a little bit.

“I-I love him, too, Kiyoomi,” You start. “You make him really happy, and that makes me happy.”

“ Yeah ?” He grins shyly, and you catch the little lovesick look you know you get with Suna. “ He makes me happy, too. Should I ask him to make it official? ”

You stare up at him, your soul warm. This man really cares about Atsumu, you realize. You’d seen it before, but this is entirely separate. He’s confessing to you, when every guard he has is down, just how much Atsumu means to him.

Movement catches your eye, and you see that Atsumu’s standing just past Sakusa’s shoulder, staring at the back of his head with wide eyes. He meets your eyes, and you know he’d heard it, too.

You keep eye contact with him while you hug Sakusa, nodding carefully. “Yeah, Kiyoomi. I think you should ask him.”

Atsumu flushes, and he starts to smile nervously, gaze hopeful as he steps up to you and presses a hand to Sakusa’s back. The germaphobe flinches away from the touch, turning with alarm.

And then you watch as he realizes it’s Atsumu and relaxes completely under his hand.

Your phone buzzes, and you’re distinctly aware of how terrible it is for Suna to be sexting you while Atsumu’s in the middle of falling in love.

“ Tsumu, ” Sakusa says, pleased, and releases you. You glance down in the seconds before Atsumu can be in sight of your screen.

Sunarin : do you think if i bent you over the bar and fucked you right here, that bartender might finally get the hint?

Atsumu’s side presses against yours, but his attention’s on Sakusa, so you type fast.

You : rin, come on

You : we’re in public

Sunarin : never stopped me from thinking ab it before

Sunarin : that day in the car

Sunarin : on the way to the beach

Sunarin : do you wanna know what i was thinking ab?

You stare down at your phone, waiting, but he doesn’t tell you.

Sunarin : im waiting, y/n.

You want to scream.

You : yes, rin

You : of course i want to fucking know

You : youre killing me

Sunarin : mouthy

Sunarin : should i stuff my fingers in your mouth to shut you up?

The floor falls out from under you, your brain going blank. Any care you have for who’s next to you or who could see your phone leaves you. All you can do is wait.

Sunarin : thats what i thought about that day

“ Got somethin’ to ask me, Omi-kun? ” You hear Atsumu ask, his voice shy. Sakusa laughs quietly beside him.

“Later, Tsumu. I want it to be special. ”

Sunarin : in that car full of all our friends

“ Okay. Not gonna forget, are ya? ”

“ Never. I’ve been wanting to ask for a while. ”

“ Yeah? ”

“ Yeah. ”

“ Okay ,” Atsumu laughs, finally dropping it. You feel him nudge you then, trying to get your attention, but you forget to give it to him.

Sunarin : i thought about burying two fingers in your pretty little cunt and using my other hand to keep you quiet

Sunarin : thought about it for weeks after

Sunarin : thinkin about it now

“Y/n, I think I’mma head out soon- what the fuck- ”

Your head whips up, and you find Atsumu with one hand over his eyes.

“ Christ , Y/n, I didn’ need all that.”

You just stare up at him with wide, unseeing eyes, Suna’s text playing on repeat in your head. You start to giggle, worsened when your phone buzzes again.

Sunarin : whoops

You laugh louder, smacking Atsumu on the chest. He groans, digging the heel of his hand into his eye.

“You two are gonna fuckin’ kill me one day, I swear,” He complains. “First the drink, now this?”

You fist his shirt in your hand and drag him down, planting a giddy kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, too, Tsumu.” You look to Sakusa, who has no idea what’s just traumatized his future boyfriend. “And you, Kiyoomi. I love you, too.”

The man beams cutely down at you before grabbing Atsumu and pulling him toward the door. The blond goes with him, and you hear a whiny ‘ Never goin’ to the beach with them again, Omi-kun ’.

You turn back to Suna, eyebrows raised. You’re glad to see that his pleased grin is a bit embarrassed.

When you reach him, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“Well done,” You say, nodding very seriously. “He’s going to need therapy.”

“That’s not new,” He jokes, throwing his phone on the table so he can card his fingers through your hair. “Wanna get outta here?”

“Why?” You tease, letting him pull your face close to his. “So you can keep telling me all about the depraved things you wanted to do to me in front of our friends?”

“No.” He brushes his lips over yours, eyes trained on your mouth before he lifts them to meet yours. “So I can show you what I meant when I said that you blowing me was the nice way to put it.”

You moan quietly, clinging to him and thanking every higher power that exists that no one’s back here in this corner with you. “Rin…”

“You wanna leave?”

You nod furiously. He just smiles.

“Then go say bye to everyone.” When you nod again and start to pull away, he yanks you back, pushing his lips to yours heatedly. “ Wipe that look off your face, or they’re going to know that I’m thinking about fucking your mouth in the backseat of my car. ”

Your legs wobble a little bit when you walk away.

You’re entirely uncertain that you manage to say bye to everyone there, and when Osamu hugs you tight and kisses the top of your head, he mumbles to you quietly.

“Whatever you get up to tonight, I don’t want to hear about it tomorrow.”

“What?” You laugh, your face warm with nerves when you spot Suna near the door. “Why?”

“Because in no life do I want to know what that look in your eye is about.” Osamu releases you, and you wave at Yachi, smiling sheepishly when Osamu calls out a teasing ‘ Have fun ’.

You all but run over to Suna, your heart leaping when he reaches a hand out to you. You take it, leaning up against him and breathing out an embarrassed admission.

“I don’t think I was good at wiping the look off my face.”

He purses his lips, trying not to smile as he walks you out to the parking lot. “Then I guess you’ll just have to wait ‘til we get home.”

“No,” You whine. “Really?”

He smiles wide then. “Yes, really. I can’t have anyone catching us, can I?” He helps you into his car, buckling you in while you stare up at him, heartbroken. “Then they’ll know how good my girl is, and that’s supposed to be between us, right?”

You swallow, pressing your thighs together and nodding. “Yeah. Between us.”

He glances down at your thighs with a smirk and then closes the passenger door, coming around to the driver’s side.

“Can you keep your hands to yourself until we get back?” He asks, starting the car.

You watch his ringed hand settle comfortably on the gear shift, the bracelet you’d gifted him hanging loosely from his wrist. You very urgently need that bracelet pressed between your thighs, like it had been that first night.

“Not sure.”

He laughs. “Do your best, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

He’s true to his word, his apartment complex appearing after only ten minutes, but by that point, you’re squirming in the seat beside him. Suna pretends to laugh, but you can see his hand flex on the gear shift and the flick of his gaze to your thighs as he’s pulling into the parking lot. He carts you up to his apartment with an urgency you’ve only seen in situations just like this, where he’s all but dragging you into the elevator.

And when he shoves you to your knees at the foot of his bed, you know you’re in for quite the night.

You look up at him, hands on his thighs, and wait.

He tilts your chin up, keeping your eyes on his, and smiles.

“Pretty.”

You smile back nervously. “Yeah?”

His fingers curl into your hair and cup the back of your head. It starts off gentle, but you feel the tension of his hold on your head, and you realize you’re being restrained.

“Want me to show you how pretty?”

You try to nod, but his grip is tight. “Yes, please.”

Suna pulls his lip ring between his teeth, tugging as he stares down at you. He laughs almost nervously, despite showing no sign of loosening his grip.

“God, I really am a bad friend for imagining this so much.”

You shift, your panties uncomfortably wet. “You’re only a bad friend for not telling me anything until now.” You reach for his belt, undoing it. “Making me wait all this time is unfair.”

He sighs when you tug on the zipper of his jeans and pull them down to his thighs, freeing him. You take his cock in your hand, stroking him slowly.

He groans, tightening his grip in your hair. “You’re right,” He says breathlessly. “I coulda had you this whole time.”

You squirm, sliding your palm against him and feeling when he grows harder. “You have me now.”

He guides his cock to your mouth, resting the head of it on your bottom lip. His eyes flick between your mouth and your eyes, his fingers painfully tight in your hair. He breathes out a question just as you’re parting your lips.

“ Do I? ”

You let your jaw drop open in response, your tongue passing along the underside of him. He shudders, and his cock twitches on your tongue. You feel his grip on your hair loosen in his distracted state, and you use the chance to dip your head, taking him into your mouth.

Suna moans, his head falling back when you bob your head down onto him. You wrap your hands around the part of him you can’t fit in your mouth, and the swears start to fall from his mouth.

“ Fuck ,” He breathes, followed by a groan when the tip of his cock touches the back of your throat. “Fuck, that feels good.”

He looks down at you, his fingers finding your hair again.

“You’re so sweet. You’re so good and sweet and perfect. You take me so well.”

You moan around him, feeling when he shivers but ignoring it in favor of dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock and then suckling on the head of it. He whispers your name, his grip tightening.

“Shit.” He swallows audibly. “Is it alright if I-?”

You do your best to nod, stomach swooping when his fingers twist your hair into a makeshift ponytail. His bracelet knocks gently against the back of your ear, and you feel yourself start to get desperate for him.

“You ever done this before?” When you shake your head, he swears under his breath weakly. “Dig your nails into my leg if something doesn’t feel right, okay? Make sure you breathe through your nose.”

You nod, and he stares down at you for a moment. And then his grip tightens.

The sudden push of your head down on his cock has you moaning loudly around him. He swears over you, and then he pulls you off completely to look at you.

“Good?”

You whine at the loss, wrapping your hands around him and leaning forward again. He yanks you back, forcing your eyes up to his.

“Gotta answer me first, baby.”

“Yes,” You breathe quickly. “Yes, good. All good- can I-?” You slide your fingers over the head of his cock, and he groans quietly.

When he lowers you down onto him, you get the sense he’s struggling to keep his self-control. The hand on your head is tightening to the point of pain, but you only moan through it, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat once, and then again. The third is rough, his hips canting forward as his hand brings you down.

But when you choke audibly, Suna moans your name, loud and echoing off his walls, and you resolve yourself to dragging that sound out of him every chance you get.

You try to sink down on him yourself, but a harsh tug pulls you back.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks, eyes hazy and breath short. “‘s my job.”

You whimper, whispering a quiet apology and waiting.

He twists more of your hair around his fingers, holding you steady in front of him. You open your mouth and let him slide in, moaning softly when he brushes against the back of your throat.

“Promise not to move?” He asks, gaze adoring. You nod shallowly, and he smiles. “That’s my girl.”

He snaps his hips forward, and you think he sees it when your eyes roll into the back of your head.

The pace he sets reminds you of the way he’d fucked you this morning, but, as you watch him through the tears building in your eyes, you realize that this must be something he’d thought he’d never have. His eyes are squeezed shut, and your name is falling in broken whispers from his lips every time he bumps against the back of your throat. You watch him as he acts on something he’d spent a long time thinking about, and you want to give him anything he wants.

Not too long goes by before you feel him twitch in your mouth, his cock heavier and his hips stuttering briefly when you moan around him.

“ Fuck ,” He breathes. “I’m gonna- I should-” He starts to pull you off of him, but you scramble forward, sliding your hand up to press against his stomach. You fist his shirt in your hold, eyes pleading when you look up at him. He moans at the eye contact, grip loosening. You push down on his cock, going as far as you can, and he cups the back of your head carefully.

“God, you’re so pretty,” He says. You suck gently on him, using your hands to coax him over the edge. “Thought about this so much. Shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it…” He sighs, watching you work and shivering every time your tongue drags over him. “I wanted to do something about it, wanted to make a move-”

Your eyes fly up to his, wide. His face warms under your surprise.

“ Didn’t wanna fuck things up ,” He mumbles, fingers carding lightly into your hair. He moans quietly when you bob your head, and you feel how close he is. “ Couldn’t risk losing you. ”

Your heart sings in your chest, nerves buzzing loudly, and you use your free hand to search for his. When you find it, you intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing warmly.

You’re distinctly aware that that’s what sends him over the edge.

His hips push forward weakly, and you hear your name being choked on as he fills your mouth. You swallow as much as you can, using your hand to stroke him until he’s done.

After a moment, he sighs shakily.

“Shit.”

You pull off of him slowly, helping him back into his boxers. He crouches in front of you, forcing you to look at him.

You smile sleepily, your throat a bit achy as you whisper to him. “ Hi. ”

He leans forward, kissing you hard. “ Thank you for letting me do that ,” He whispers back, mouth warm on yours.

“ Thank you for doing that. ” You giggle when he wraps his arms around you and hoists you up. You cling, face buried in his shirt, as he moves you both onto his bed, your dress riding up and bunching around your waist.

Suna all but rips your panties off of you, spreading your thighs and kissing the inside of your knee.

“I really wanna fuck you while you’re wearing this-” He nips at the soft flesh of your thigh, kissing each thigh and making his way slowly toward your core. “But I wanna do this more right now.” His eyes flick to yours. “You’ll wear this again, though, right?”

You warm, nervous. “Maybe?”

“No ‘ maybe ’.” He sucks a mark into your inner thigh. “You’ll wear it again.”

“Okay.”

“Good,” He smiles, examining the bruise he’s leaving on your skin. “Then – for now – this is what I want.”

You shudder, stomach fluttering with anxiety when you see where he’s headed. “No one’s ever…”

He meets your eyes again, smile dropping a bit. “What?”

You just look away, tugging your dress down a little. “No one wanted to.”

“...You asked them to?”

“Only the first couple times.” You shrug, embarrassed. “Wasn’t worth it after that.”

The silence that stretches between you reminds you of the day you asked to kiss him. His hold on your thighs tightens, and you can see he’s a bit annoyed. “Ask me.”

Your heart skips, and you’re squirming under him. “I dunno-”

There’s a hand on your face, and you realize you’ve grown quite fond of him squeezing you like this.

“Ask me.” He lifts a brow, daring you not to.

You look away, murmuring through his hold. “ Will you go down on me? ”

He releases you, staring with warmth.

There’s something in it that looks like more than you’ve allowed yourself to hope for.

“I would be honored.”

You laugh when he pushes his face against your thigh, breathing you in and biting softly on your skin. “You’re so fucking corny.”

“You deserve at least that much,” He says plainly, biting and nipping and sucking spots into your thighs, his tongue soothing each one along the way. “That’s the only time you’ll ever have to ask me.”

You smile and card your fingers through his hair, shivering when his breath fans out over your core. “What did you mean earlier?” When he glances up at you through his eyelashes, your stomach lurches in anticipation. “When you talked about making a move.”

Suna presses a kiss to your navel and then to the crease of your hips, his hands keeping your legs open for him. “Didn’t want to scare you off and fuck everything up.”

“But you seemed completely fine with us doing this a few weeks ago. When I said I didn’t want to ruin us.”

“A few weeks ago-” He kisses the very edges of your inner thighs, and you know he can already feel how wet you are. “-the only way things could change was if you fell for me, or if you found someone else and we went back to being friends.”

He lifts his gaze as he hooks your thighs over his shoulders, speaking clearly when he looks you in the eye.

“At the time, I was okay with that second option.”

Your nerves burst under your skin, his words flying around your head and making it entirely impossible for you to notice when he drops his head and presses the flat of his tongue to your core.

Your back arches, a gasp ripped out of you as your hands fly to his hair. “ Rin -”

He drags his tongue along your folds, searing hot when it slides against your clit. “I was okay with this ending,” He mumbles, the vibration of his words making you squirm. “I thought I was over you, like an idiot.”

He laughs, and you hide your face in one of your hands. It’s cruel to make you go through this right now . To make you helpless and desperate for him in a million different ways, only to drop this bomb of an admission on you.

How are you supposed to not fall for him when he says and does everything that makes you think it’s okay?

Suna nips gently into your skin, his tongue wildly distracting while you try to process.

“I thought I was over you, but I was so fucking okay with you falling for me,” He breathes the words onto your burning skin, laughing quietly when you squirm. “It was so obvious, and I didn’t notice.”

“Rin,” You whine, pushing your hips up carefully and moaning when he grips you tight and pulls you against his mouth. “Please don’t tease me. I won’t be able to let you go.”

“Baby,” He says it so naturally and with a lilt of humor, like he thinks you’re not listening to him, that your breath comes out sharp and whiny. “Haven’t you been listening? I was only okay with breaking things off when we first started. Don’t you know how long it’s been since then?”

He dips his head and drags his tongue over your clit, latching on afterward and suckling gently. You cry his name and squeeze your thighs. He holds onto them and buries his face deeper, moaning against your core. You barely hear when he speaks, your ears ringing.

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

You find yourself gasping for air, your heart pounding almost painfully in your throat.

“ Rin- ”

“ Tell me you’re mine. ”

Electricity flies down your spine, but Suna keeps you held down when your body bows off of his mattress.

“‘m yours-”

“Again.” He tortures you like that, bullying you to the edge while making you work for it, your pleas desperate.

“‘m yours, ‘m yours – please, Rin, please-”

“ Again. ”

“ I’m yours, Rin, I’m yours -” You all but scream it, your words echoing long after you say it.

He rewards you now, sucking hard on your clit and then dragging his tongue over it.

You fall, and you know that it’s permanent.

When you eventually come down – seconds or minutes or hours later, you don’t know – you almost miss when Suna pushes his lips against your inner thigh and breathes a response.

“ And I’m yours. ”

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #suna rintarou #suna rintarou smut #suna x reader

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