#thanks tyler the creator for the title inspo lol

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

when it all comes Crashing Down

tags: 18+, afab!reader, childhood friends to friends(?) with benefits, codependent relationship

summary: it fascinates you how someone so manipulative and cruel can be so sensitive and needy

a/n: writing pro-tip, always write down random sentences whenever they come to you because you never know when it’ll be the source of inspiration for a story. in this case, an introspective think piece on makima’s loneliness that is also smut where neither of you are the good guy. also available on AO3.

If windows are eyes to the soul, you wonder what that means for someone like Makima. 

Or rather, you wonder what people see when they look at them. You’ve known her for the better part of your life and at 25, you still aren’t sure what others see. That is at the forefront of your mind as gold eyes with red rings look back at you, a calculating smile accompanying them.

“Are you listening to me?” Makima tilts her head as she rests her chin on her palm.

You nod vaguely at your childhood friend, turning your gaze to your phone screen. “I heard you say a week ago that you have a partner assignment due this week and yet somehow you’re here at my place instead of doing that.” You have your apartment to yourself for once, your roommate gone for the weekend to stay the night at one of her girlfriends’ apartments. “Shouldn’t you be out doing your homework?”

“I can’t visit my best friend from time to time?” Makima implores as if she is surprised by your own inquiry

“That isn’t what I asked,” yet you already know the answer. You aren’t completely well-acquainted with Aki Hayakawa. He’s a friend of a friend and you see him from time to time when said friends throw parties or have other get-togethers. Those were enough encounters for you to know the man is absolutely smitten with the redhead in front of you, spooning a piece of the tiramisu she brought over. He’d do anything Makima asked of him with more enthusiasm you could ever produce.

Unsurprisingly, Makima confirms what you already suspect. “Hayakawa told me he could do the rest of it,” she replies lightly with a smile. And there we go. You wonder what the poor sap sees in her when you know Makima doesn’t see him as more than an amusing puppy chasing after her braid. “I wanted to visit because I thought you might be lonely. Here,” she raises her spoon towards your lips. “I made this for you.”

“Nah I’m good,” Makima’s baking isn’t necessarily the problem. It’s the measurements, her measurements just aren’t for you.

“You said you wanted to try tiramisu recently,” Makima counters, her hand not moving an inch.

“First, I mentioned that in passing,” you raise a finger and quickly follow it with another. “Second, I also said I was going to try it out with Quanxi next Saturday.” One of her girlfriend’s, Long, is having a birthday celebration at an Italian restaurant. “They say patience is a virtue, I can wait.”

“I think it’s a voluntary virtue when it comes to food,” Makima lowers her hand for a moment. “Are you just trying to say you don’t want to eat my baking?”

You snort, “that’s exactly what I’m saying, yes. I trust your cooking, not your baking. You have never gotten the right amount of sugar that I can stomach.” You’ve never been able to eat things too sweet. Even as a child you would scrape off most of the frosting on cupcakes, sliding it onto Makima’s plate who welcomed the additional sweetness.

“That’s a bit mean” that is hilarious coming from the undisputed Queen of Mean. You distinctly remember the time in middle school where Makima laughed at a scene of a protagonist crying over the death of a friend. That in itself was ironic coming from the same girl who, at the beginning of that same semester, clutched your shirt and sobbed like it was the end of the world when you found out you shared zero classes and had separate lunch periods. “I worked hard to make this for you. You should spoil a person more when you’ve known them since you were 6.”

You distinctly know the spoiling she is referring to is about herself. “I always spoil you,” I’ve been doing it since we were kids. It crosses your mind, not for the first time, that if it weren’t for your parents, you are sure you and Makima would never have become friends.

Your mom was her mom’s friend in university and by some chance, they ended up enrolling you both at the same school and found out when you were both picked up later after classes. There began your days of playing whatever game Makima desired and your possessions somehow becoming her possessions. Whenever you voiced your grievances to your mom, however, she always told you to be kind and understanding in a tone that let you know that you recognized even now. A tone that says “this has something to do with something we adults discussed”.

It didn’t take too long for you at that age to notice the traces of what your mother was likely referring to.

You never saw much of Makima’s parents when you were younger; you don't see much of them now.

School events, holidays and a few random things in between. It wasn’t Makima’s family that shared them with her but yours. That realization made you think back to the times you would complain about mandatory family time and your mother would rebuttal, “not everyone is lucky to have parents that love them so much, [First], you should be grateful.”  

Indulging Makima became habit after that as long as it was in reason.

You’re sure there is a part of her that resents you choosing to room with a classmate rather than her though. 

“Just try it,” Makima raises her spoon again and, with a sigh, you relent. 

Almost immediately, you balk at the taste, nose scrunching in displeasure. “Like I said,” you grab Makima’s cup of black tea and down a large mouthful. “You always make things too sweet. This is why I’m gonna eat it at a restaurant with an actual baker.” 

You lay your head on the foot of the couch, rejecting the too-sweet tiramisu in its entirety. “I’ll just make Quanxi pay for it when I order it. She owes me for what happened last weekend.” You aren’t one to knock someone getting laid but your roommate fucking her girlfriends loudly all night the night before you had a exam was evil. All she did when you banged on the door to keep it down was toss her noise-canceling headphones before closing it again. At least when I fuck in the house I have the decency to keep shit down, you grumble internally pushing away the fact Quanxi technically also offered to let you join in the fun.

You probably would have joined if you weren’t sleep-deprived and irritated.

C’est la vie.

“[First].”

“Hmm,” you hum in response without opening your eyes. Your eyes find themselves opening a moment later when you feel the distinct feeling of another body over your own, Makima placing her legs on either side of your hips as she sits on your lap. 

Red frames gold as she looks down on you and you stare back wordlessly before her lips press against yours.

It fascinates you how someone so manipulative and cruel can be so sensitive and needy.

Cruelty comes easy to Makima, no different than a child experiencing troubles at home taking out their frustrations on a random kid at school.

She’s angelic in appearance, devilish in nature.

She wants to be treated gently when she is incapable of treating people gently herself.

By your second to last year of high school, you wondered what your relationship meant about you. 

Knowing her ways yet staying her friend regardless which only birthed the question as to why you remained her friend. It donned on you not too long after that the reason was pity when you held a distraught Makima in your arms in your room when a former mutual friend stated his intentions not to associate with her any longer. You remember finding it strange that she was so upset when you didn’t think Makima even considered Madoka to be a friend in the first place.

She said as much when you asked her before the event transpired.

“He’s more like an acquaintance, they all are,” Makima had told you. “But not you [First], you’re my real friend.”

The only one she has.

It dawned on you then if Madoka wanting nothing to do with her could make her cry, you doing the same would make Makima undoubtedly break. It’s ironic how the loneliest people can be the most sadistic.

So she can be cruel; as long as that cruelty never turns to you, you will continue to be there even when you are sure you both know that your friendship has long since passed the expiry date. You’ll be there when she needs to cry, you’ll accompany her on walks for her dogs and you’ll lay her down in your bed when she wants to feel the skin of another on her own like you are now.

Makima’s arms tighten around your shoulders, hips bucking as the butt of your palm rubs against her clit as you thrust your fingers inside her. She’s absolutely soaked and you can’t help relishing that fact as Makima moans your name like it’s the only word she knows.

Maybe this was inevitable, the two of you like this, you think vaguely as you leave a trail of wet kisses from her breasts to her belly before settling between her legs. You lap at her core slowly, bringing one of your hands to clasp her own and Makima intertwines her fingers between yours tightly.

You press one finger in her pussy, sucking on her clit.

You add a second when you kiss her folds.

You continue thrusting your fingers once you add a third and Makima moves her hips to press into your ministrations. It takes a few moments to find a rhythm, alternating between licking and maintaining the movement of your finger. It doesn’t take much longer for Makima’s thighs to tighten around your head, coming with a soft cry.

You pull out your fingers, vaguely acknowledging the ache in your wrist and glance in her direction. From your position you can see her chest heave up and down, hand tightly gripping yours as she reels from the aftershocks. If she held it any tighter, you’re sure it would break.

With two light taps on her hip, Makima loosens her grip on your head tiredly and you kiss her inner thighs before finally moving to lay on your pillow beside her. It takes a moment to pull your hand away from hers, Makima’s grip iron tight. “Hey, I need that hand to hug you, weirdo,” is all it takes for her hand to loosen its hold and gently you take back your hand.

There is no fighting against your tugging as you pull Makima into your chest like you’ve done many times before holding firmly but gently, just as she likes. You don’t comment on the soft sniffle you hear, it’s an unspoken rule for you both not to point out when she cries during sex. Almost instinctively, Makima presses herself even closer as she wraps her arms around your waist. Sometimes you wonder if she is trying to live in your skin.

“[First],” Makima murmurs almost too softly for you to hear when she’s wound down.

You fiddle with a lock of her hair, “What is it?”

“Stay the night with me tomorrow,” her nails dig into your back and you note she sounds almost uncertain in her command. Desperate.

You close your eyes, tired. “We can go in the morning.”