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citrinae · 5 months

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caramel, salted.

sanji x reader

contents; you seek some free entertainment by venturing into the men's quarters. or: sanji is pathetic in two acts. explicit content, femdom, cunnilingus, facesitting, worship, smoking, sanji being his own warning. some fluff towards the end because i’m weak your honour. afab!fem!reader, wc: 2.6k, mdni. this gets lowkey unhinged at some point so proceed with caution i'm so sorry.

Here’s a thing you can tell about bored people: they’re handwork. More often than not you come to discover about yourself that boredom throws you into situations that would never cross your mind, disconnects you from yourself and moulds you anew as you witness the outcomes of your decisions unfold like a side-street circus act. And as much as you could agree with those who say that you shouldn’t put unfavourable behaviour down to some higher power with a weird sense of humour, neither could you deny the thrill, the restlessness, the refreshing sense of freedom you feel any time you let your body act on its own. Sometimes feeling bored leads you down to feeling creative.

Right now it finds you in the hallway towards the male quarters, leaned against a wall with your foot tapping uneasily against wooden flooring, a lingering “what if” pressed unsaid between crossed hands. What if, and why not, after all, when Sanji would collapse down to his knees at the smallest look you tossed in his direction. It irks you, truly, how you cannot get through the middle of a sentence without him complimenting—your thoughts, the tone of voice, ah, ma choue, apologies but your lips moved so beautifully around that word—or trying to get under your skin even more with his usual display of indiscretion. Like that time when he accidentally let it slide that he spends two hours a week siestaing by himself in the men's quarters.

But you’d lie if you said you haven’t been fueling it yourself, with elbow touches and furtive glances and leaning down his shoulder when you’ve had a few too many. Sanji unlocks something vicious in you that you cannot quite place, or simmer down, and despite it all, you’d often watch yourself with astonishment as you poked around for more.

It’s always so easy with him.

It infuriates you. It’s exciting.

Skipping a beat, you peer left and right for what you counted as the twentieth time before your steps lead you in front of an arch door at the end of the hallway. You knock. Once, twice, thrice, and you begin to hear some movement on the other side as you do. Loose, unbothered, “hurry up you freak”, Sanji trudges his step towards the door handle and peeks out.

“What,” he says, but swallows it soon after noticing you. He’s at his most casual in beige shorts and unbuttoned shirt, uncombed hair curtaining a fraction of his face. His voice chokes up in his throat while thinking of a thing to say to you.

His gaze feels heavy against you, and for a minute there you consider changing your mind. “There’s no way in hell I’d let you win this one”. Air piles up in your chest, stays there for a while. Yet your exhale is loud enough to make a decision for you. With a finger you start pushing him a few steps back, desperate to get inside without being seen, “Don’t say anything and lock this fucking door.”

He obliges, reaching the key to the room at a pace as fast as you expected of him. “It’s not the first time you lock yourself up in here, now isn't it?” You fold your arms as you further watch him rush the key into the lock. “You truly have no shame.”

“In my defense, sweetheart,” he leans against the door, his eyes glued to your figure. You soon notice he’s been holding his breath. “This time I’m not the one asking so enthusiastically to be alone in a room with you.”

You click your tongue. The room is dim and layered with wood that creaks the moment you press a footprint into it. Without another word you clutch Sanji by the collar of his shirt, glazing the surprise on his face with a kiss as you do. It’s a taste you relish, bittersweet with bergamot and the cigarettes he sucks on for dear life. Sanji moans against your lips, and it doesn’t get long until his hands are flattening all over you, too, as he lets you speed your way towards his hammock. Hands on hips, chest against chest. You rip a second whimper from him as your nails reach the skin under his shirt and dig themselves into his back. He kisses your jaw, buries his head into your neck. The low flicker of the hang lights and the sway of the ship blend with the staccato rhythm of your breathing; the salt in the air dissolves on the roof of your mouth like a broken promise.

When his tailbone hits the bedding, he dives a quivering hand for a smoke and lighter. A snap, flame eating through paper. But before he can even take his first drag, you’ve already snatched it from him, greedy and cruel and downright captivating, pushing it between your own lips with a self-indulgent hum.

Nicotine scrapes your lungs as you pull on the cigarette; ease yourself on one of his thighs. Sanji watches with his mouth open when you blow the smoke into his face.

“Darling, please,” he breathes out. “I—”

“I know,” you say, leaning at a finger’s length from his face. The tip of his cigarette is all stained with your lipstick and he drags on it like a starving man after you’ve brushed it back into his mouth. “You don’t deserve to be treated so kindly, you know that, right?”

Acknowledgement is a silent strain that forms inside his throat. He places a kiss on your collarbone. “I can make it up to you”, he says, lips climbing across your neck and up to your ear. “Please,” simple, breathless, taking your earlobe between his teeth. “I can treat you like a goddess, sweetheart, as long as you’d let me.”

“I was counting on that,” you retrieve the cigarette from his fingers. Seconds pass as you take another lungful and flick off the ashes into an improvised ashtray left on Sanji’s bed. “Now, lay on your back.” It’s an order, which he follows without protest. You know it’s a thing of instinct that he brings his forefinger to his nose while watching you slide off your pants and climb your way to his chest. Sanji earns his reassurance in the form of a smile and a peck on his bottom lip. “Good man.”

“Come here,” you hear him drawl, impatient, dragging your hips over his face. Without warning you begin to feel his tongue on the inside of your thigh and your breath hitches the moment he reaches your panties. At first, he doesn’t bother to take them off, his mouth delirious to enjoy your wetness through the fabric. Sanji turns out to be a quick learner, too, as he makes sure to press his tongue against the spots which have you sounding sweeter, tightening your thighs harder around him, and he seems to savour each moment he gets to spend entertaining you. He moans against your panties when your fingers bury themselves into his hair to guide his movements.

Heat builds up in your stomach. It’s not enough.

“You’re teasing me,” leaves you faintly, slowly. “I want to feel you for good, Sanji, c’mon.”

And you don’t know if it’s the sound of your voice, or simply the raw, unrehearsed ache to be touched which has been manoeuvring your movements ever since you stepped into this room, but Sanji is happy to further do your bidding if that means he’ll get to witness more. Fuck, and what a sight you are, rose-cheeked, teary-eyed, straddling his face with both the grace and urgency of a divine calamity; he’d never learn how to say no to you.

Pulling your panties aside, Sanji is gentle as he starts stroking a finger inside you. His tongue readies itself at your clit when he heaves, “Like this, darling?” Your hum is soft, enough. He leaves a sultry kiss on your clit before taking a minute to admire the sight. “So beautiful.” There’s a strange affection in his voice that urges you to turn your head towards the ashtray where your cigarette sits now, discarded and forgotten, but you cannot help but yelp again when his tongue rolls so greedily against you, revering you, drinking from your core as if he’d been eating from Dionysus' hand.

Even more than he enjoys hearing you, all dazed and unfocused, Sanji adores losing himself to the taste of your slick, adores it tenfold when your hand finds the side of his cheek encouraging him to keep up, “Should’ve had you sooner like this, huh. Starved and pretty under my pussy.” You start your own pace as you speak through shreds of sound, hips chasing your release in wet and messy bounces against Sanji’s face. “You must be thinking a good lot of me.”

Sanji lets out a heavy exhale. He did, in fact, shamelessly, pathetically, dream of this moment with you, a little after you’d joined the crew. Not once did he find himself jerking off to the thought of you, a smoky smile, your eyes on him, sweet nothings like apple and cinnamon into his ear before he’d smother you in kisses and eat you up. Taking in your perfume as he’d bend you over the counter of the kitchen, a halo forming round your hair where the light would hit just right. And a good number of nights passed with him trying to assess which flavour would work best with your voice while hanging from the sounds of his name.

“Fuck, fuck,” it’s ragged against you, sending shivers to your core. With your body swinging in the dimness of his room, Sanji feels like he hasn’t been weaker in his life, and it only takes him a meaner pull at his hair and a look at your bitten lips to come right here and now. He continues lapping at you through his orgasm, the sensation he coaxes from you as he does allowing you no time for whatever tongue-in-cheek comment you might’ve come up with in similar circumstances.

You settle on his name instead, and it melts on your tongue as his grip tightens on your hips, bringing you closer and closer to your edge. When you get there, your voice shudders on a deep vowel that you try to bite down into the palm of your hand. Wailed and open-mouthed, Sanji wastes no time as he licks against the dampness spilling over him, being taken through bliss a second time now with the image of your crescendo leaving electric shocks throughout his body.

The hammock is rocking silently under your figures. A moment passes as you stare down at Sanji’s lips, reddened and coated with your slick, parting for short breaths of air. He lulls your skin with a last peck on your thigh before dragging himself from your legs and reaching for the corner of your mouth.

“My compliments to the chef,” he says, his voice taking to fragranced. “This was exquisite.”

“That’s because you haven’t tasted today's main course,” taking his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Would you be interested in trying, sir?”

Sanji’s goatee is still wet from eating you out. The corner of his lips hitch an inch higher on his face as he fixes you, languid and hot. “Only if you promise to kiss across the rim for me, sweetheart.”

ii.

“Caramel,” his voice starts through a cloud of smoke.

You’ve been laying together in his bed, legs curled and shoulders peeking out bare from the covers. The room is hot and your eyes heavy and there’s a pillow slung on the floor beneath you shadowing the memory of minutes ago.

You shift your head to meet his eye. “Care to articulate for us lesser earthlings, Sanji?”

Sanji lets a couple of seconds pass as he ashes his cigarette into the tray. “That,” he explains, and it tugs a brow on your face when he does. “Melted sugar. Not as easily handled as some would think. But it’s sweet, easy to fall for, and really sticks to you afterwards.”

“You’re such a dork,” you find yourself saying with a childish giggle and a thumb swiped across Sanji’s cheek.

“Or helplessly charmed by you,” Sanji adjusts, finding your hand and stroking it into his own with a softness that brings heat into your cheeks. You leave it there.

The door handle jostles on the other side of the room. You freeze. There’s a thud at the door, and later a hurricane of them.

“Open up you stupid pervert!” It’s Zoro. His voice is all steam and gravel as it bursts through the silence. “Told you last time if you can’t keep it in your pants at least be a man like the rest of us and own it.”

Three swords lean untouched against a wall you just now come to pay attention to. You throw Sanji a look. He slaps his forehead, hisses under his breath, “Fucking shit swords.”

The knocks continue.

“Sanji he can’t see me like this,” you whisper, hurling yourself under the covers.

“You with someone there, louse?” Zoro’s voice.

“Storage room, dear, go. You’ll be fine there,” Sanji searches for you between cushions. Then, to Zoro, “Have you mismatched your pills again, mosshead? Go see Chopper for a check-up.”

“I’m gonna mismatch your guts soon enough if you keep trying to be funny with me,” pressure on the door handle, flurry of pounds, a kick.

With a short tilt of his head, Sanji points at the ladder leading below deck, and this time you decide to listen to him, jumping from the hammock and accepting the clothes he’s picked up for you as you rush towards the storage room. The place is dark and damp and you can hear the wood shriek above your head as Sanji works some steps about the men's room and to what sounds to be his locker. “Curious to see you try,” caustic, dismissive. He throws something over the hatch you’ve descended through.

You put your shirt back on. Above you, a key is slung into the lock. Boots bite into the floor soon after.

“Now,” Sanji again. “Was it that hard to wait? Bad-tempered bastard.”

“Fuck off,” Zoro snaps.

“Understandable.”

A pause.

“The hell are you doing here?” he adds on; he sounds confused.

“Wardrobe decluttering. You’d use one,” Sanji drones.

Zoro isn’t buying it. “And you locked the door for that.”

Silently your body rolls through your panties, your pants.

“Maybe I didn’t want you guys’ dirty boots on my wardrobe?”

Shoes, "no sound, I beg."

Zoro says nothing.

Your lungs tilt with the lack of air.

Sound of metal against metal.

“Got everything you needed?” Sanji presses on.

More steps. Door creaking, “You’re weird.”

And he’s gone.

The sigh that escapes you then is loose, deep. You take the moment to press your eyelids close for an outline of your day.

Sometimes feeling bored leads you down to feeling creative. Other times, it leaves you with a ripple in your chest down the ladder to the storage room of the Thousand Sunny.

When Sanji opens the hatch for you, it’s with a wide, pleasant smile, and you don’t think twice before latching onto his hand to help yourself up. “This time. I’ll let you have this, for now.”

Staring at the piles of clothing scattered about the room, “Next time we gotta be more careful with the rendezvous point.”

Sanji anchors to the most essential part.

“Next time?” he leans back, hand dug into the pocket of his slacks, his heartbeat dashing off his eyes.

“Yeah,” you catch yourself saying. Your smile is one-sided as you step forward, turning towards the door. You stop for a minute to run a touch across his cheek with the back of your hand. “Be nice and you’ll get another after that, and another.”

Sanji knows then, lifting his hand to his face, watching your hips sway their way down the hallway, that he’s been caught under your spell, fully, permanently, and he’ll do anything in his power to assure you he’s a place to return to.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #one piece smut #sanji smut #mdni

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dancingmonbelum · 15 days

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simon x gn!reader

cw // deaf reader, simon being ableist, mention of hearing loss/deaf, simon being toxic.

—————————☆—————————

Communicating was hard enough for Simon, given that he wasn't a very social person. One was sufficient; two were demanding; and three were exhausting. Although that much was forgotten when he met you, the only person who was patient enough to crack that wall– allowing him to open up even to the smallest details of his life.

As time went by, the accumulated words he had said to you was greater than to anyone he had even knew in his whole life. That alone showed just how much he appreciated being heard by you, he never knew his words– his life, could be so interesting to someone to elate excitement and adoration.

But, the house– once full of spoken tales was quieted down when you found out that you're experiencing hearing loss. To the point that you could lose it forever. From there, Simon would find his words falling on deaf ears and him having to constantly repeat everything to you. Not just once– sometimes twice, and on special occasion, thrice. This moment was no exception to that problem.

"Sorry, Si, what was it?"

Silence erupted between them after the second time Simon had already repeated himself.

"Nevermind. You taken your meds yet?"

"Oh– right, let me do that right now." You went to grab the bag of medications on the nightstand that Simon had carefully prepared for you this week. But, seeing the bag untouched only made Simon sighed in response, your carelessness to this whole thing– It baffled him. 'It's like getting better was not important', he always thought to himself.

"You keep forgetting to take it."

The way you nodded to acknowledge your constant mistake ignited a flame of anger in Simon's heart– letting out a deeper sigh, calming himself in attempt of not letting it spread to his head and blow up.

"Oh, well... you know me, Si. Thank goodness I have you to remind me." You chuckled to your own words, earning a loud grumble from Simon about how it's careless to forget about things like this.

In attempt of downplaying your mistake, you avoided his glaring eyes. Hoping that he'd let it slide, again. But, it didn't work this time.

"Just– please, why're you not taking this seriously? It's like you want to go deaf." He dramatically flailed his arms around, before they made its way to tug on his hair in frustration. You don't want to believe the words he's saying right now, because you swear nothing had been this crystal clear to you since you lost your hearing.

"It's always 'can you repeat that?' with you. Why do I have to keep repeating things?"

His words would only grow harsher, and you knew you had to stop it before it worsen. But, there was no stopping Simon as he stood up from the bed and turned around abruptly to face you.

"It feels like I'm the only the one who cares about this! So, lemme ask you this– again and again, and again– why are you doing this?"

"Si, you know I'm not doing that on purpose–"

"And I'm supposed to buy that?"

"Well, I didn't ask to be like this, Simon–"

"Well, I also didn't ask to be with someone who's going deaf so fucking quickly. But, life's not always sunshine and rainbow, huh?"

It always hurts to be honest, but a part of Simon of have always wanted to throw those words at you. But, what hurts even more was seeing your face contorted to despair and guilt when he knew you heard him clearly– the only moment he wished you hadn't.

"I'm tired of this."

And with that, Simon slammed the door behind him– leaving you blanketed with the unbearable silence and the wrenching guilt of letting Simon bear with your situation.

—————————☆—————————

a.n. it's my first time writing something...

#cod x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon riley

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calx-bdo · 8 months

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"FROM THE START!"

SAE ITOSHI X READER !

GENDER NEUTRAL!

warnings : sae being a cutie patootie

From the day Sae arrived in Spain, it was not going well. He had just met up with his competitors in the Royal Madrid club and he had felt absolutely, utterly defeated. There was no way he was going to become the world's best striker. It was out of reach, for a nobody like him.

Not even in academics can Sae outshine them. Although it was obvious that he clearly wanted to at least try to best them in something, not even trigonometry was on his side. In many ways, Sae had already given up on his dreams.

Merely a month has passed and Sae still has not found any sort of joy since coming to Spain. Everyday, even after merciless professors unleashing questions that required at least 18 scholars and 23 trained council leaders at the Agora from Ancient Athens to decipher (his classmates solved it in approximately 0.394 seconds), he also had to face brutal training sessions from his dog-like coach, barking orders at him day after day, week after week. This torture sessions continued on for weeks on end, until Sae could not take it anymore. He just really wanted a break, and just really wanted to see Rin again. Sae shut the door to his apartment, and really, REALLY wish he did not break down in his paper-thin dorm walls. That all went down the drain when he turned his phone on and saw Rin, 5 year old Rin, smiling back at him. Soon, one tears turned to two, two turned to three, and three turned to many. Itoshi Sae, Japan's child prodigy, the treasure of Japanese Football, was having a mental breakdown in his dorm room in Spain.

Who would be the knight in shining armor to save his day?

...You, of course. This wouldn't be a Sae x reader fanfic if it weren't you.

Kind-hearted you living next door overheard his sobbing and got worried. Who would be crying at 6.50 pm in the night? You were tired from studying about the law from the Roman Empire anyways, and thought you deserved a break from the mind boggling questions posed to you. (Seriously, who asks people to find the cause of the downfall of Rome? As a LAW STUDENT?)

So, you did only what your tired mind could think of. Bake some cookies for your neighbour. Do you have all the ingredients? Yes, since you bought them on a whim, albeit losing the motivation to bake immediately. You got up from your chair and decided to head to your kitchen. (LET HIM COOK 🔥🔥🔥)

Although the cupcakes were baked on a whim, you can't deny that the sweet strawberry scent was in fact, quite convincing that this cupcake was most definitely one of the best things you've baked in a while (being a law student doesn't really allow for leisure activities..), and it did help get your mind off the excruciatingly painful essay questions anyways. Now, all you have to do it just pass it to him. Easy, right?

The doorbell rang once. Twice. Thrice, and you hear heavy footsteps trudging to the door. You took a deep breath as you hear the door handle turn, and tired eyes glanced at the cupcakes in your hand before turning towards you. All you could do was give an awkward smile to the eyes, covered by the bangs and looking absolutely demolished. "Um, You...sounded like you weren't having the best of days. You, um, do you want a cupcake?" A deafening silence fills the room. "Okay. Thanks." Sae gives a small smile. An approval.

You and Sae's "neighbourliness" got closer and closer, until Sae and you actually were considered best friends. Best friends that attended everything together, from Sae's soccer matches to your court proceedings, and even Sae following you to every frat house party (in the breaks given, of course.) to ensure that nobody dares to even come one inch closer to you when you're intoxicated.

It was actuallg at this particular party when you realised your true feelings for Sae. And that's when you're sober, so you REALLY know it's real. The realisation hits you when you come back from the toilet to see Sae pushing someone away approaching your drink with a ... something in hand. They were then engaged in an argument, and then, Sae just...slapped him. It was like everything happened in a flash, but the constant increase in your heartbeats sing a different song. Sae eventually was so done with the guy he went upstairs, dragged your arm and found a quiet place to sit at to calm down.

"...fucker. What a bitch. Can't believe he would even think I would let him touch that." Sae kept grumbling and mumbling about it, but your mind was only focus on how his long lashes fluttered when he batted his eyelids, or how he crumples his cup in rage when bitching about that guy.

For you. For you, for you, for you, for you, for you-

Thoughts were swarming your head right now, and Sae, seeing the distressed look on your face, got worried for you.

"You kay?" Sae's worried voice asked.

"Y-yeah, thanks." You meekly reply.

The music from the party slowly drowns out. The Spotify playlist that Sae made (for you too, by the way) was all you could hear beside the blood rush in your ears.

"Mmn, this song is good." Sae commented.

Have to get this off my chest, I'm telling you today..

"Sae, can I tell you something?" You raised up.

"Hm? What's up?" Sae questioned, his eyebrows raising.

That when I talk to you, oh, Cupid walks right through, and shoots an arrow through my heart..!

"Promise, PROMISE, you won't laugh?" You had to make sure. It's gonna be very extremely embarrassing if he does.

"What's got ya so worked up? I won't, I promise!" Sae ruffed up your hair adoringly.

And I sound like a loon, but don't you feel it too?

"Well, I-" You hesitated. Will he reciprocate your feelings? What if he doesn't and finds you annoying? What if he didn't even like you as a friend? What if-

"Hey, you're off again. What did you want to say?" Sae's voice takes on a sterner tone, concern etched all over his face for you.

"Well, I confess I loved you from the start.."

You have never seen Sae's face so red before.

#itoshi sae x reader #yingyue'snovels #blue lock scenarios #blue lock itoshi sae #bllk itoshi sae #bllk x you #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae #blue lock sae #blue lock #bllk scenarios #bllk sae #fluff #anime

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hqbaby · 2 days

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how did it end? — hinata x reader

ੈ𑁍༘⋆ didn’t you hear? they called it all off. after your relationship falls apart, you find yourself trying to pick up the pieces. in the midst of the wreckage, you still can’t figure out exactly why it all ended.

word count. 1.5k content. angst, breakup fic

You remember when you first moved in. It was a hot summer day and there was a leak in the kitchen. It wasn’t there when you bought the place and Shoyo had spent the whole morning arguing with the realtor because of it. You remember seeing him get all frustrated and having to tell him to calm down, that it would be fine.

“I just wanted it to be perfect,” he told you when he got off the phone. The two of you were sitting on the floor of your bare living room, sucking on popsicles and wiping the sweat from your foreheads.

His words warmed your heart, which might have seemed counterproductive in the heat, but you didn’t care. All you could do was smile at him and take his hand and say, “Look around. It’s already perfect.”

He lit up at your words, suddenly all giddy as looked around the place. Your place. For both of you.

He kissed you then and you laughed, jokingly shoving him away, reminding him of the heat, but he didn’t care. You didn’t either.

Things were easier then. Lighter, happier. Better.

You look around the living room now, bare once more, stripped of all signs of life that had once filled its walls, and you wonder if things will ever be that good again. And you realize that they probably won’t.

“You okay?” Sakusa asks you. He’s carrying a box of your things, things that had once had a place in this home and don’t anymore. “Are you missing anything?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine,” you tell him, picking up a box at your feet. “We should go.”

All of your things are split between the trunk of your car and Sakusa’s. After he heard about what happened, he had offered to help you move your things to your new place. At that point, you hadn’t even considered leaving this house, your home. You never thought you’d have to look for a new place again.

“Is there anything else?” Sakusa asks as he closes the trunk of his car.

You look at the boxes of your things, the empty house behind you, the winding road ahead with an unfamiliar destination. You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes. “I—I can’t,” you say, turning back to the house. “I can’t leave. It’s not over yet.”

Your friend has a pained expression on his face. He says your name, quietly, sadly. “What do you want to do?”

“Can I call him?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

But you’re already fumbling through your pockets, pulling your phone out. “I’m gonna call him.”

You tap on his number, still at the top of your contacts list. You worry your lip as you listen to the phone ring once. Twice. Thrice.

He declines.

You ring him again.

Decline.

Again.

Decline.

“Please stop,” Sakusa says, prying the phone from your hands. “He won’t answer. I’m sorry.”

You look back at the house. Did it always look so empty? So lifeless? So miserable?

“I just need a minute,” you tell him, rubbing your tears away with the back of your hand. “Just a minute,” you say, walking towards the house. To soothe it? To stop its pain? You don’t know. “I’ll be back.”

You push through the doors and suddenly you’re back at the beginning.

Shoyo stands by the staircase with a fresh bouquet, grinning that boyish grin of his. “Happy anniversary,” he says.

You frown. “It’s not our anniversary.”

“I know,” he tells you, still grinning. “But it will be in three months. Thought I’d get you something in advance.”

You launch yourself into his arms and he peppers your face with kisses as you giggle and clutch the bouquet to your chest. “I love it,” you tell him, pulling away to look him square in the eye. “Thank you.”

You’re back in the present, standing at the staircase, arms empty, the warmth of his embrace gone. How long had it been since the two of you were that happy? That careless with your joy?

A month ago, you were both at the staircase too. You were standing at the top, him at the bottom. The distance hurt you more than it should have.

“I can’t deal with this anymore,” you told him. You weren’t crying, you were just staring at him, all tired and drained. “You know that, right? You know I can’t.”

You felt for the ring on your finger. It had been there for two years already, a promise that was yet to be fulfilled. A promise that you had been waiting on for so long, one that never came and would never come.

He gripped the rails and shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me."

He had a different look on his face, one that you wouldn’t have recognized two years ago but had become increasingly familiar with in the last few weeks. You were both tired, and that was never going to end well no matter what you did.

“Put me first,” you told him. Asking. Begging. Pleading. “Just put me first for once.”

You grip the railing now and you wonder why it didn’t end there. Because it didn’t. Somehow, you found it in yourselves to keep going, keep breathing life into the corpse that was the two of you for two more weeks.

You should’ve let it end there. Maybe it would’ve made more sense.

You wander to the kitchen, the place where you once considered that you might’ve been the happiest you’d ever be.

It was a Sunday night, Shoyo had spent his day off with you, going to your favorite spots around the city, having dinner at the place you two loved, lying on the couch and watching all the shows you’d missed. You found yourselves washing the bowls you’d used for ice cream, chatting about your day, the things you could do next week.

You thought that you were already happy then, that things couldn’t get much better, but Shoyo wasn’t having any of that.

As you placed the last bowl on the drying rack, you found your boyfriend on his knees. There was a ring in his hands. No box, just a ring. He later told you that he’d kept it in his pajama pocket because he was so scared of losing it and you’d laughed at him and told him you understood.

He was nervous, the words getting all jumbled in his mouth until all he could say was, “Do you—do you maybe wanna marry me?”

You nodded your head and leaned down to kiss him. He slid the ring onto your finger and you held him tight. You never wanted to let him go.

You twist the ring on your finger now. He told you to keep it, but you’d been contemplating giving it back. Maybe Sakusa could pass it along. Or Atsumu. Any one of your friends would do. You just know you can’t give it to him directly. He won’t have that.

You tap the kitchen table, still there, part of what you decided to sell with the house because neither of you wanted to keep it. You both know why, but you never said it out loud.

It was where things ended, more or less.

You had sat down for dinner, the week building up to that moment had been tense, but not anything special. You were bracing yourself for another fight, another cool down, another restless night of sleep before things went back to normal. You don’t know if you should’ve realized it was coming. You guess you never will.

“We need to talk,” he said and you listened.

You both poured out all the things that bothered you, the things you wanted to fix, the things that were clearly going wrong. It was a civil conversation, diplomatic and understanding. You talked and talked, trying to piece together the things neither of you could understand on your own. You thought it would work, you thought it was going well.

But it went on for too long. You circled around the same concerns again and again. You put things together only to watch them fall apart. It felt like building a sandcastle by the sea only for the whole thing to be washed away by the waves in seconds.

In the end, you realized that you were going nowhere. This was going nowhere.

So you stopped trying to fix it. You both did. There was no point trying to bring something back when it had clearly been gone for a while already.

You look at the table now. You look at the marks you left on it, where you had both engraved your initials. Shoyo had been so happy when you agreed to doing it.

“We’ll be here forever,” he told you as he pressed the cutter to the wood. His head was bent, focusing and carefully carving each stroke.

You were sitting beside him, head on his shoulder. You smiled. “We’ll be here forever.”

notes. i’ve been in a weird place recently, picking at old wounds and all, so my writing’s been all over the place. i’m trying not to touch any of my series right now (mainly because i’m scared i’ll mess with the plots too much to backtrack), so here’s a little fic for now <3

#hqbaby.fic #hqbaby #haikyuu #hinata shoyo #hinata #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x reader #haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo angst #hinata angst #haikyuu angst

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roughhstrawberry · 1 year

Text

Toji’s version

„Toji?! What are you-" Your voice died in your throat as you saw the man leaning against your door, hand still on the doorknob. His face was blank, too blank even for him. Great, you thought, he's finally lost it. "What's up with you? Then he raised his eyes to look at you.

His eyes were wide, pupils blown, like a wolf that had been starved and had happened to stumble on some fresh meat. He didn't even seem to be breathing.

You tried to speak some sense into him. "Toji, why are you in my room?"

The sound of your voice made him twitch, like something deep inside him had jolted to life, and

before you knew it, he was pushing you on the bed, fisting your uniform in his hands and ripping. You squealed. "Woah, asshole, at least buy me dinner first-"

He gasped out a few words as he pressed his lips into your pulse, pulling what remained of your shirt off you, before moving down to your skirt. "You've been holding out on me."

"What?" You managed to choke out as he rapidly undressed you. He hadn't even kissed you yet, and you wondered if he could even see through the haze in his forest green eyes. Despite yourself, despite your proud status as a staunch feminist, you felt a shiver run down your spine as you looked into that starved-wolf stare.

"You've been holding out on me," he repeated, voice strangled. He looked as bewildered as you felt, marvelling at his own actions, pulling your bra off you, ripping your underwear off, spreading your legs until your knees were beside your breasts.

He was still fully clothed, you fully naked and frozen underneath him. Not that this was the first time. But he was usually much more... refined. He was the kind of man who treated sex like it was fine art, playing you like an instrument, pressing all the right buttons, dragging you along like a puppet on a string.

You watched him undo his belt, still looking like he was sleepwalking. "Toji," you warned him, voice low even as you felt a drop of slick escape you. Maybe being a feminist could wait another day.

He stopped, a flicker of recognition pushing past his blank face. He let out a small oh, before dropping to his knees and burying his face into your cunt.

"Toji!" You gasped and arched up, utterly confused.

He hasn't even kissed me yet . His tongue was hurried yet completely methodical, like he couldn't afford to waste time on a mistake. Funny,

that, when he always crooked his tongue just right, pressed it flat against you to lap up at your labia before sliding it right into your dripping hole, tensing the little muscle, pushing in and out and in and out and in and-

You let out a high-pitched moan, even in your confused state. Toji's tongue was insistent, stiff against your walls, the texture of his tastebuds rubbing against you just right. Good at everything, you rolled your eyes, even as you grinded your hips against his, searching for your climax even as you recalled with a twinge of doubt that he hasn't even kissed me yet.

Toji sped up, tongue now flicking in and out of you at light speed, nose pressed into your clit, and before you knew it you were cumming, shuddering on his mouth, crying out his name. "Toji! Enough!"

But Toji was still dead silent, eyes miles away, as he crawled up your quivering body and stood up, finally peeling his tight black shirt off, unbuckling his belt until his big brown pants fell softly to the floor. He took his boxer off with it, his cock bouncing up to hit his stomach.

The sight of it alone, thick and veiny and slapping his muscular stomach almost had you running for the

hills.

"Like what you see?"

I'm not going to get out of this alive.

"Toji, are- are you okay?" You looked at his swollen cock again. He was moving now, spreading your legs to spit on your cunt, once, twice, thrice. His spit hit your skin, missing your cunt slightly to spatter on the crook of your thigh. You jerked, feeling more like an object as he went on. You refused to start liking this.

"Jeez, Toji, talk to me. You can't just ignore me like that'

"You've been holding out on me." There it was again, that absurd little accusation.

"What the fuck do you even mean by that, Toji? Why are you being so. " You trailed off. Weird? Creepy?

Desperate? You had no idea how to describe the man in front of you right now, as he pressed your legs impossibly closer to your torso, moving down to meet your eyes, until you were folded in half beneath him, legs on his shoulders, putting you into a-

Oh, shit.

There's no way.

You had gasped and slammed your phone down on your desk, face flaming with embarrassment. You sighed in exasperation. It is seven in the damn morning. You picked your phone back up, only for it to be fished out of your hands by the man sitting beside you.

"What's got you all flustered, hm?"

"Toji!" You hissed, and by some miracle you managed to swipe your phone away without alerting your other coworkers, but not before Toji glimpsed the caption on the tiktok you were watching.

Mating press, king, and she'll be yours forever.

You were back in your seat, sulking, still all hot and bothered.

Toji wondered what a mating press was. He decided to look it up later, just out of curiosity, nothing more.

It's not like he wanted you to be his forever or something.

That was the first thing Toji had thought when he finally understood the picture Siri was painting in his head. When it finally registered in his dumbstruck mind what exactly the very naked couple were doing on his screen. He switched off his phone, gaping like a fish as his mind ran a mile a minute.

So that's what a mating press is. Okay then.

He shot off his bed, papers from the work he was supposed to be doing flying everywhere. Phone forgotten, powers forgotten, he all but sprinted in the direction of your room. Your room, with you in it, probably on your bed, where he could see you all folded and begging and stuffed full of his-

He had pushed your door open, half-delirious with need and filled only with a single-minded determination to put you in a mating press and fuck you so hard your insides were never going to be the same ever again. He had ripped your clothes like a damn animal, not even hearing your voice, and had barely remembered to get you ready before he tore you in half.

If he wasn't him and you weren't you, that would have looked like a crime scene in the making.

Now here he was, all the blood in his brain stuck in his cock, his aching, so-hard-it-was-about-to-fall-off cock. He couldn't even keep the desperation out of his face, as his eyebrows scrunched up and his mouth fell slack with need.

"Daddy," he had managed to gasp out, as he felt the back of your ankles pressing against his shoulders.

"It's Daddy when we're fucking, remember?"

"Daddy," you whined against him, face unable to reach his, seeing as you were folded like a damn pastry beneath him, his hands holding your head, the back of your thighs pressed against his chest.

"Daddy, please." You had finally caught on with him, the stupid tiktok front and center once more in your mind. A mating press. A fucking mating press. Toji had you in a mating press and looked fully intent to break you into pieces.

I mean, it's not the worst way to go.

Then his cock was pushing inside you. If you had any hopes about your survival before, they disappeared now as you took in his massive cock. The cock of a horse. Toji pushed in, groaning at the resistance, struggling to hold back and let you adjust. You pushed against him in earnest now, protesting at the pressure of him trying so desperately to fuck into your too-tight cunt. You needed to relax, maybe open your legs, anything but this feeling of his cock that you were sure was brushing against your tonsils the wrong way.

"Too big, Daddy, can't take it, I need to-"

"No," he gasped out at you, still pushing, digging his heels into the mattress. "No, no, need it, need this, can't stop- Fuck-"

His hips were out of his control now, fucking you in tiny little thrusts, still only half-inside you. He needed the friction, needed anything, because the feeling of your thighs against his abs and your ankles up on his shoulders was-

"Need this," he whined into our mouth. "Need this so bad, need this need this need this 'm sorry I can't hold it-"

"Daddy," you pleaded to him, high off his desperation. High off the needy apologies coming out of his mouth. You let out a squeal as he finally bottomed out in you, his cock pushing your guts into your throat, his thrusts still shallow and desperate.

"Gonna make it feel good," he muttered into your open mouth. "Swear this'll feel good for you too, fuck!" You yipped a little as he yelled out profanities into your mouth, choking out little moans of your own. His cock was too big and the press was too tight and it felt so damn good.

He fell on his forearms, and you wondered how much more you could take before bones start breaking. He laced his fingers on top of your head, thumbs on your forehead, holding you still. He mumbled out another gonna make you feel s' good before pounding you in earnest, practically bouncing you both on your mattress. His balls smacked against your ass, and the feeling was so damn satisfying that he just had to go harder. You would sport matching bruises tomorrow, his hips on your ass. You pushed out moans in time with his unforgiving pace, a metronome playing the beat to which his sanity danced away from him.

For a second, Toji wondered if he should slow down, give you a chance to breathe, even if the effort kills him. But then he found the strength to peel his eyes open and crane his head back, taking in your tears, your sweat, those eyes of yours that practically screamed-

"More?" He sounded fucking pathetic, his voice octaves higher than it usually was, but he didn't care.

"More, you little slut? That what you want? You want more?"

"I'll give you more," he babbled, "More, baby, give you more give you everythin' gonna fuck you so hard you won't walk for weeks."

"God, I could just fucking eat you right now, look at you, yeah? You look so fucking good. So fucking-" His face was tilted down to yours, head cocked to his side, as he cooed little encouragements that drove you mad.

He sounded absolutely wrecked. He sounded like he was begging, like he was praying, even as he whispered crazed little promises in your ear.

"Shouldn't have let me see your screen this morning.

Oooh you shouldn't have let me see that. You been thinking 'bout this baby? Know you have, I know you have. Been wanting me to do this to

you? Yeah? Been wanting me to fold you in half and fuck a baby into you like the little slut you are?"

You clenched at his words, earning a groan from him.

Your toes curled beside his head and he gripped your ankle, kissing the side of your leg in a moment of pure adoration. He managed a crooked smirk, eyes glazed over. You could swear there was nothing more beautiful in the world than that wrecked little smile, even as it twisted with pleasure. "Oooh, you want that? Want me to fuck a baby into you? Yeah? How many do you want? C'mon tell me, how many do you oooh fuck -

"Mmm yes please yes please yesyesyesss-" was all you could manage. He laughed at you, breathless, and you wondered how he could keep up this pace and still rattle off incredibly filthy little comments, looking right in your eyes.

"You'd like that? Yeah? Gon' look so pretty, little baby, so pretty full of my child, yeah? All round and glowing and heavy with me. All of 'em will look at you and see me, all me, see that I did that. You want that? You want that you want that-"

"Close," was all you could mutter back. Your spit was pooled in your throat, choking you. You couldn't swallow, couldn't even breathe as his pace picked up and his thrusts went impossibly harder, harder and harder as he fucked you so deeply your brain shut down completely, your poor cunt red and stinging with abuse.

Toji was in bed as he was in life, absolutely ruthless.

But this, oh this was different.

There was nothing else, nothing else in the world but him now. Nothing but him and his handsome face all twisted above you, sweat dripping down from strands of black hair to fall on you. Nothing but his arms holding your legs up, nothing but his hips fucking into you like he wanted nothimg more than to become one with you, nothing but his cock, his huge, hard, unforgiving cock-

"That's right, sweetness," he muttered, looking through your eyes and straight into your thoughts.

"Just me, all me, you'll never know anything else but me. "Right, baby, just me and my cock, fuck!" He shifted, pulling his legs up, finding the leverage to thrust in and out even faster, even harder-

"Too much," was all you could manage. "Daddy, it's too much-" You pussy quivered in warning, your body held too tight to be able to see you through your orgasm without falling apart. You felt him grip your head again and finally, finally, kiss you, pressing his lips to yours just as you let out a sound you had never made before, just as you came and came and came and didn't stop.

"Mmm fuck baby" Toji muttered into your mouth, your moans coming out of you in staccato. "Yeah, yeahyeahyeah milk me fucking milk my cock gonna cum in you fuck a baby, my baby into you and you're gonna fucking take it take it nnngh -"

You had heard stories about it, of course, orgasms that were so good they didn't stop, crashing into one another with barely any time between them. But dear god it was never like this, this pleasure so intense it was painful, and you begged and begged and begged the black-haired monster on top of you to stop please it's too much i'm gonna die i'm gonna fucking die please-

"Can't," he gasped into you, as his hips stuttered and his balls clenched and squeezed. "Can't stop, gotta give you my cum gotta give you my baby gonna cum gonna cum you gonna make me cum you're squeezing too hard oooh-"

You sucked in an inhale and managed to speak. "Give it to me, Daddy, want it, I want your cum."

Toji let out a small gasp, eyes widening almost comically in shock, before-

His body curved and bowed, hips pressed hard against you, arms below your body and hands gripping your shoulders. He buried his face into your neck, teeth latching on to skin, biting down to draw blood, a choked groan making the veins on his neck pop out. His eyes were still wide open, face frozen with shock as he came, really came, his balls squeezing painfully, a deep ache in his gut, indescribable tingles all along his cock, his spine, down to the soles of his feet, up to his fried brain.

Your body protested against the sheer force he was holding you with, and you felt a few joints creak in protest before Toji lost his strength and collapsed on top of you, panting, unconscious for a handful of seconds.

When he did come to, he groaned and dropped his forehead on yours. Absently, he started kissing you.

He felt like someone had taken a taser to his brain stem. He could not, for the life of him, remember what the fuck happened between him running to your room and him cumming the hardest he's ever came in forever, but he did recall a lack of kissing.

So he kissed you now, in an almost-childlike manner, soft pecks and kitten licks. He pulled and sucked on your lips lightly, occupying his still-overloaded brain, waiting for his soul to come to him. He wondered, the post-orgasm bliss holding back any real sense of urgency, how bad he had hurt you.

Man, what the fuck happened to me?

"You went a little crazy there," you whispered weakly, looking at the man on top of you. He still looked a bit blank, you noticed, like he honestly had no idea how he had ended up here.

Then he looked at you, eyes crinkling at the sides and looking a little more like himself. "Oh, did I say that out loud?" He laughed, kissing you again, before moving a hand down to your thigh.

You froze. "Toji, you can't be serious."

He looked at you like you were the insane one.

"What, I haven't broken any of your bones yet, have I? Now stay still."

You squawked a hurried no! as he jerked you against him, your knees back up as he gave an experimental thrust.

"Sensitive," you hissed, "Sensitive, Toji, you insatiable-"

"Insatiable is right," he said to you, eyes wide, still looking like you just told him the Earth was flat. He towered over you, kneeling now, and with horror and a bit of something else you felt how hard he still was.

You couldn't keep the awe out of your voice. "Toji, you just came."

He scoffed, already starting to fuck into you. *Yeah, and?" Then he shook his head, dropping back down on top of you. "A mating press, huh? Better do some yoga now, baby girl, ain't no way l'm giving this up." He punctuated his words with a hard thrust, and all you could do was moan and take it.

"Toji..No more"

More, more, more- Inka

#toji x you #toji thirst #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fluff #toji x reader #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji fanart #toji jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu toji #smut #hot daddy

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atthewhisky · 1 month

Text

𝘢 𝘯 𝘨 𝘦 𝘭 𝘴 ' 𝘧 𝘰 𝘳 𝘦 𝘷 𝘦 𝘳

.·:*¨¨*:·. 𖣁 .·:*¨¨*:·.

axl rose x reader ౨ৎ

explicit sexual content ౨ৎ

ꪆৎ　 " is it nice to feel free and wild ? "

You can feel him looking, eyes sharp, curious, intriguing as they stare at you from across the room. Cheeks heat, legs cross as you catch his eye once, twice, thrice - too many times for it to be coincidence.

What to do? Talk to him? Look back instead of shying away and flicking your eyes down towards your feet? It’s almost like you can feel his smirk, his taunts and jeers at your shyness.

He loves it. Revels in it, in fact.

He’s prepared - fully prepared - to chase you. Catch you in his grasp and have his way with you.

The air of arrogance, entitlement and pride oozing off of him like the scent of tar and nicotine that permeated his clothes and skin was enticing. To think that he would pick you when he could have any woman in the room.

You, sitting in your dress - dolled up and looking like the prettiest picture.

It's how you found yourself pushed against the wall, drunk off the sweet kisses he'd given you on the elevator ride to his room - damn nearly passing out from the aggressive clash of lips that occurred when the door had finally slammed behind him.

His hands slipped over your body, tracing the indent of your waist and the curve of your thighs, lips attacking and suckling - kissing with, seemingly, everything he had to give.

"What's your name?" he murmured between kisses.

"Doesn't matter," you breathed out, too caught up with the feel of his hands against you to think - the warmth of flesh as handprints burnt into your skin. Branding you.

Claiming you with a possessiveness that sent flashes of heat spurting through you.

“If you say so,” he smirked against your lips, pecking and sucking and pulling you flush against him - guiding you to the bed. “First one to come in here,” he muttered. “Wanna break in the bed?”

Forward: it's how he was. How he is. How he remains to be. He was not shy with you - did not wonder what he should say or how he should treat you.

He took everything he wanted and he would take you. The decision was made when he saw you, so pretty in your dress - all done up like you were on display for him, to stare at and admire until he couldn't take it anymore and ripped you from the glass cage of denial you sat in.

"I'll do whatever you want," you whispered into his ear, placing your hands on his chest and looking at him with needy eyes and swollen lips.

Hands closed around your waist, fingertips digging into the flesh of your waist and bruising you with their strong grip. There was a moment of weakness at your words, an indistinguishable sound coming from the back of his throat as you gazed at him with unadulterated desire.

"Whatever I want?" he asked, pushing you backwards with slow, careful steps. "You sure?"

The unashamed conceit, the assuredness that he would make you feel good no matter what he did to you. It was all part of the appeal. You wouldn't deny how incredible it felt to have captured the attention of someone seemingly impossible to seize - someone who seemed to tower above you like some deity.

"Yeah," you breathed out. "Please, just-" he cut you off with his lips to yours, head hitting the mattress as he pushed you backwards and clambered on top of you.

"Please?" he questioned as he pushed your dress up your legs, bunching it around your waist and brushing his fingers against your panties. "Please what?"

"Please I-" he cut you off again. The bastard did it again - with a swipe over your clothed clit with his thumb. The simple contact made you shiver, had you keening and gasping for more.

"Please..." he murmured, mulling over your words and beginning to continually rub at your clit. "Still don't know what you mean."

"Fuck," you gasped, feeling the tingling in your cunt and the fuzz in your brain. "Axl..."

The blissful movements continued, never failing in his ministrations until the feeling was gone and his hands were off your pussy. Before you could complain, his lips were back on yours, smirking into the kiss as you bucked your hips at the phantom feel of him.

"You're real fuckin' sensitive, you know that, baby?" he said.

You could tell: he loved this. He loved the power he had over you, the reaction he gained just from a few swipes of his thumb. His ego inflated and rushed to his head like the blood in his body when he was tipped upside down. Having you so desperate even though he had barely touched you was as good to him as the lines he snorted last night - the high they gave him.

He felt just as high with you.

Axl had always had a keen eye - a knack for observing the people around him and simultaneously judging if they'd be a good lay. And god, you might just be the best prey he'd hunted. You were utterly perfect, splayed out on the bed with your dress (that he would soon rip off) around your waist and your needy little eyes looking up at him with unadulterated, filthy desire.

You were so perfect, that he was considering keeping you around for another night.

You weren't the "bang 'em and bin 'em" type.

"I am?" you breathed out, unsure of how to answer his question.

"Yeah," he was shrugging his jacket off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor with a harsh thud. "Yeah, you are." He grabbed you fully by the waist, fingers digging into your skin and hiked you up the bed with all his strength - placing you right in the middle. "Gonna use it to my advantage."

You mewled. Fuck, he could talk dirty.

A chuckle rose from the back of his throat as he worked at his belt buckle, pulling the leather from the loops of his jeans and throwing the item somewhere near his jacket.

Upon hearing the sounds of his fingers against his buckle, you gazed down at his crotch, then directed your attention north. He was still wearing his shirt. You didn't appreciate it one bit.

"Off," you murmured as you clawed at the material, trying to pry it off him and reveal the muscles underneath.

"Only if I can take that off first." He tugged on your dress, pinching the fabric between his fingers as he sat on his haunches - bracketing your thighs.

You nodded desperately, raising your hips so he could gain access to the hem and slip it swiftly over your head.

"Most desperate chick I've ever had," he said seemingly to himself as he pulled off your dress and you lay before him in lacy underwear. "And the best thing is, I don't even think you're fakin' it."

You couldn't reply, couldn't find the words as he pulled on his shirt, lifted his arms above his head and removed the offending item from his body. It got thrown alongside his jacket and belt.

He was lean under the clothes, skin pulled over taut muscle that flexed with every breath. He was beautiful. Godsent. Hastily, you noticed the ring attached to his nipple, giggling slightly at the sight.

"What?" he questioned, smirking at your laugh.

"Nothin'," you muttered. "Just...doesn't that hurt?"

His eyes migrated to where you were staring, looking down at his nipple.

"This?" He grabbed onto the metal, tugged slightly and you winced. He laughed. "No. Not now it's healed. Why? Wanna touch it?"

"No," you said resolutely although you secretly did want to touch it. You thought that would be too weird for the first time. Maybe in the morning if he kept you around.

"Your loss," he murmured, a smirk toying at his lips as he pulled on the buttons of his jeans, pushing down the zipper - the noise resounding against your ears.

He was quick to tug off his pants and you were shocked (although you probably shouldn't have been) to see his cock bounce out of his jeans - hard and leaking.

Of course, Axl Rose went commando.

You choked out an unfamiliar noise, eyes fixated on his dick.

Suddenly, you felt very exposed. You felt bare. Even though he was the one who was naked as the day he was born. At least you had your underwear on to maintain some sort of dignity.

Despite his watchful gaze, he didn't seem to notice your shift in tone - only gazed at your eyes as they lit up with longing.

Then, his hands were on you, his body leaning over you as he pulled down the cups of your bra and thumbed at your hard nipples. His lips caught yours again, biting and sucking as he pressed a few kisses to your mouth and then moved to your neck.

The kisses continued, down and down until he got bored of your bra restricting his access and reached round your back to pull at the clasp. The lace slid off your shoulders, thrown amongst his clothes and finally, he pressed his mouth over your nipples.

You quickly began to decipher his rhythm: soft aggression. He bit your nipple and then quickly soothed over it with a lick from his tongue, dug his fingers into your waist and then rubbed at the bruises he'd created.

It was a beautiful dance, a great contradiction that had you tossing and turning like a lifeboat at sea.

Eventually, his fingers hooked into the hem of your panties, wasting no time as he pushed them down your thighs, eyes fixated on your cunt as he slowly revealed what he had been yearning for.

He cocked his head to the side, getting a real good look. His stare heated your cheeks, and you pushed against the force of his hand that kept your legs spread. He felt the movement, the desire you had to close your legs and curl up into a hole. He wouldn't have it. He would get what he wanted.

"Don't go gettin' shy on me now," he murmured. "Keep those legs open."

It was so easy to comply with orders. So very easy. You spread your legs further apart, the cool air hitting your centre and you suddenly became hyper-aware of how wet you were - how you knew he would be able to see your slick glistening between your thighs.

"Fuckin' wetter than a virgin," he chuckled, the crass phrase only forcing a moan from your throat. That only made him laugh more. "Jesus, baby, I only spoke. Wonder how loud you get when I fuck you."

"Shut up," you said futilely - lying through your teeth because you knew full well that you didn't want him to shut up.

In fact, it was the last thing you wanted him to do.

"Yeah, fuckin' make me."

You couldn't reply as he slipped his finger between your folds, gathering slick on the tip of his finger and dragging it up to your clit. The pressure, the sweet blissful pressure hit you like a tidal wave, a gasp falling from your lips. He circled your clit so softly it felt like he was killing you with his tenderness. Your hips bucked, your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth fell open as whimpers escaped your throat.

"Axl," you moaned, hands flying to his shoulders as he prodded at your entrance and slipped his finger in with one motion. It burned. But the curl of his finger inside you made you forget all about the ache.

The only thought at the forefront of your mind was, "I want him inside me."

"Axl, please," you muttered, forcing your eyes open so you could hopefully display what you needed with one expression.

He did not stop his movements, stroking your insides and occasionally swiping your clit with his thumb - the added sensation pushing you closer to the edge.

"What?" he feigned sympathy, mocking you with his tone. "What does the poor little baby want?"

"Y-you," you keened, hips thrusting into his hands. "P-please."

"Now I know what those pleases were for," he said, referring to your previous begs. It seemed like a lifetime ago and yet, in reality, it had only been twenty minutes. "Just wanted my dick in you, huh?"

"Y-yeah." You scratched at his shoulders, digging in so hard you wouldn't be surprised if you drew blood.

`'Thought so." He was so damn arrogant, so confident in his abilities that it almost made you envious. Although, you didn't have much time for envy as he was crawling over you, chest to chest and pressing kisses to your lips.

His length was brushing against your bare pussy, sending shocks of electricity down your spine - desire in your stomach.

For a split second, his resolve faded, his eyes slipping shut as the head of his cock felt the resistance of your wet centre. His breath hitched, jaw clenching as he tried to hold back. But, he fully pushed in, your tight heat engulfing him - pulling him into you, and he couldn't keep quiet. He let out a shuddering breath, hands gripping onto the pillows as he seated himself inside you.

If he was embarrassed at his reaction, there was no need to be as you were so enamoured with the feel of him stretching you out, the dull ache that settled in your stomach and blossomed around your body, that you could barely focus on him. The world slipped away, the room merging into black ink before your very eyes.

You didn't even know you were being loud until he commented on it.

"Knew you'd moan like a whore."

His voice surprised you, so caught up in the first feel of him that you had forgotten his mouth next to your ear - armed with filthy phrases that he knew would have you reaching your peak even before he moved.

He was fully seated inside you now, balls pressing against your ass as he savoured the feel of you, warm around him and tighter than a fucking vice.

You had to latch onto him when he started moving, pulling out of you completely before slamming back into you. After the first thrust, he didn't slow down. It only got more intense. He was determined, with gritted teeth and low growls, to push you off the cliff edge, to feel you cumming around him and moaning like a fucking sex-crazed banshee in his ear.

And just like him, when you started, you didn't stop. You were chasing something beautiful, searching deep within you and hoping to extract the waves and waves of pleasure that would eventually drown you.

With his cock inside you, pistoning at a pace you were unable to keep up with, you couldn't help but moan as loud as your throat would allow - scratching his back as his muscles flexed underneath your hands.

The headboard was banging against the wall as he thrust with all his might, grunts and groans being pushed from his mouth as you continued with your onslaught of uncontrolled screeching.

Whoever was next door was getting a damn show.

"So fuckin' tight, baby," he muttered in your ear, words slurred and losing all meaning. It was all pure filth. Words not meant to be heard by holy ears - just like the noise coming from between your legs. It was all so obscene. And that only made it more thrilling. "Look at you," he cooed, brushing your hair from your face as his own stuck to the sweat accumulating his brow. "All fucked out...fuckin' prettiest whore..."

He didn't finish his sentence, eyes closing as he doubled his efforts. You were sure there must've been a dent in the wall by now.

That wonderful pressure was there, right in your stomach, building and building until you knew you were ready to snap.

"A- Axl," you moaned, back arching and nails digging into his flesh. "Axl..." he palmed your tits, gripping them in his bare hands before landing a slap to the right one. Then to the left.

The aggression and the violence amalgamated a filthy feeling inside you - a new discovery.

As you came, throat hoarse from screaming, you hoped he'd keep you around. At least for another night. Just so maybe he could rough you around a little more - land a few smacks on your ass next time.

"There you go," he encouraged, voice deeper than usual (if that was even possible). "Cum on my cock, baby, that's it- fuck."

You could tell he was close, his hips faltering in their rhythm, his head falling into the crook of your neck as you let out weak whimpers as aftershocks ran through you.

With one final thrust, his cock twitched inside you, his breath hot against your ear, his balls against your ass and his cum coating your walls. It didn't even occur to you whether you were on contraceptives or not - had just let him blindly cum inside you without a condom. However, it felt so warm, so fulfilling that you didn't care.

He didn't seem to either as he rolled off you, dick slipping out of you and his weight leaving the bed. Briefly, you thought he was leaving, that your fears had come true, but he only picked up his jacket and fished for his pack of Marlboro's, placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

"Want one?" he murmured, and you put your arm over your face, trying to conceal how blissed out you felt. There was a chuckle from him as you didn't reply, the smell of tobacco in the air. "Didn't even do anything special and I've got you as limp as an old man's dick."

You laughed at that, brushing away the tears that had travelled to your hairline and gazed at him. He stood naked at the foot of the bed, his hair slightly mussed from your constant touches and his body glimmering with drying sweat.

He was gorgeous.

You wanted to keep him.

So, in an attempt to keep the spark alive, to remain in his presence for as long as you could, you spoke up.

"Wanna shower with me?"

thanks for reading !!

#✦ - angel's writing #axl rose #guns n roses #axl rose x reader #axl rose smut #axl rose imagine #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses smut #guns n roses imagine

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shokiren · 6 months

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chapter 2: someone's got a crush!

a/n: this is HORRIBLE but here <3 i wrote this in the middle of the night so pls cut me some slack lmaoao NOT PROOFREAD‼️‼️but idt theres any mistake since i js looked thru it real quick <3 but tell me if u find any

you swear you're gonna rip your ears off.

you're not able to sleep after a tiring day, all because of your neighbour. not exactly because of him-- his loud friends.

various loud voices ring throughout your quite apartment through the thin walls that seperate your house from isagi, your neighbour. you can only huff in silence as you sit up and groan.

you decide that you're gonna tell them to quiet down a bit.

you get out of your oh-so comfortable bed and slip on the fuzzy slippers your cousin had gifted you on your birthday, claiming they were the comfiest thing she had ever worn-- she's definitely right.

after wearing your slippers, you quietly make your way to the front door, unlock it and walk towards isagi's front door.

you raise your hand and,

you knock once, no answer.

twice, no answer.

thrice, no an–

the familiar face of your pretty neighbour greets you, his stature towering yours. his features are highlighted because of the warm lighting. he gives you a smile and asks,

"is something wrong?"

you break out of your train of thought and correct your posture, "oh-- no, no, i was just wondering if you guys could, you know, lower–", before you could continue, you hear a cheery voice from inside.

"guys! it's that pretty neighbour isagi was yapping 'bout!", a fairly tall man with purple hair tied back chimes in, not caring to lower his voice for his friend's own good.

when you look back at isagi, he looks like he'd just lost million dollars.

"i'm sorry, i don't know what he's talking about– i'll tell them to keep it down.", and with that, he shuts the door in your face.

you flinch a bit but then smile to yourself softly.

he talks about me?

previous | masterlist | next

taglist: @celestair, @melanyy16, @kaitfae, @fabitheraven, @91ed0, @avid-idiot, @starglow-xx, @blissblossom, @anurst

#isagi yoichi x reader #isagi fluff #isagi yoichi fluff #isagi x reader #yoichi x reader #yoichi fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock #[ 𓆝 ] the girl next door!

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loveackermannn · 11 months

Note

Forbidden Love between Levi x Reader just pure fluff where like she's a princess and he's her knight to protect her, no context needed just fluff 🤭.

YOUR MIND. I LOVE YOUR MIND.

knight!levi who swore on his life to protect you at all costs – even if it means giving himself up for you. yet, who also swore to never fall in love with you because there's no way that could actually happen.

knight!levi who guards your door every morning and every night, waiting for the sound of your voice to call his name. at times, he couldn't help but want to hear you call out for him just so that he could be closer to you. in his mind, he was convinced it was only out of pure duty to ensure of your safety and that it would be guaranteed by him in your direct presence. though, deep down, it was because he couldn't stand the thought of being apart from you for even a second.

knight!levi who brushes through the messy strands of your hair with your hairbrush and occasionally steals glances at your restless posture through the dusty mirror. his brows furrow, letting his fingers slip through to gently caress at your scalp.

"how long did you stay up for last night? you look like a zombie," his voice is forward and could be seen by anyone else as a bit disrespectful towards his lady, but just to you, you fondly smile at him as if acknowledging his concern.

"a little past midnight, i had some paperwork to take care of, princess duties."

"would it kill you to get a few more hours of sleep than that? i'll do your shitty paperwork for you," he firmly says, noticing your eyes slightly widening at his proposition. of course it's out of his place to say such a thing, he's nothing more than a mere knight in shining armor awaiting for danger to strike at any given moment.

knight!levi who is quick in his apologises afterwards and urges himself to leave as soon as he entered – until he felt your hand surround the flesh of his wrist, hoping that he'll stay. you want him to stay.

"i'll get more sleep, i promise. can you please help me finish getting ready?"

knight!levi who couldn't refuse you even if he so wanted to, because he could feel himself give in to you the more he stays, the more he touches you, the more he is with you. you tempt him so much without even trying. you could talk about all the stars in the universe or the sand that grains the earth, yet all he could think about is how beautiful his own universe is front of him – you.

knight!levi who accompanies you on your daily walks around the palace with nowhere else to run to, because these 4 walls are what you've known your whole life. sometimes, he finds himself dreaming of a small cabin where the two of you can easily roam free to the nearest lake or climb the tallest mountain together. together. he can see it all so well, but the position of knight and princess makes it nearly impossible. perhaps, one day or maybe in another life both of you could be granted that freedom.

knight!levi who eats breakfast, lunch and dinner with you. he makes sure that the food is cooked exactly how you like it, that your cravings and sweet tooth are satisfied because he is the only person to have ever known these small things about you. he'll wipe the crumbs from the corner of your mouth with a napkin or sometimes even with the tip of his thumb, because he knows how messy of an eater you can be.

knight!levi who can't hide his feelings for any more capacity than his heart will allow. knight!levi who loves you to the ends of the earth, that he would gather up all your desires and needs and fulfill them in any way that he could. knight!levi who cares deeply for your heart, soul and mind that he can hardly contain it anymore. knight!levi who is yours forever and has always been yours.

knight!levi who stands at your door, shifting uncomfortably between his right and left leg, thinking about stupid he must look right now to the guards who walked past him. his hand meets the wood of the door, knocking once, twice, then thrice. he's holding his breath and for some time, he wasn't breathing.

knight!levi who waited patiently for your footsteps to be audible to his ears and soon heard the creaks of the door pry slowly open. your eyes appeared to have been deprived of sleep, but you greeted him with the same enthusiasm as you always have, as if the life in your eyes were brought back to life.

knight!levi who can't seem to get the words that itched desparately at his throat and instead, ushers you inside of your room and closing the door behind him. he looks less composed than usual and you began to grow worried at his frantic expression as you sat on your bed. your immediate thought was that someone had broken into the castle or was plotting a rivalry against your kingdom, but as soon as levi got to his knees in front of you, taking your hands into his and bowing his head – almost in.. shame? you knew it had to be about something completely different.

knight!levi who was quiet in words, but coherent enough to reach you,

"i can no longer hold this in, milady. if my words are nothing but indecent to you, i would ask to resign from my position as your knight, but you must know this now, that-"

knight!levi who finally gathers the courage to look up at you with such earnest, you couldn't turn away. he finishes with the remainder of his shakened breath,

"i am in love with you. i can hardly fucking stand near you without having the urge to pull you in because i crave for your heart so badly. i lay awake most nights dreaming of what it would feel like to be beside you. i cannot concentrate because you constantly plague my mind as if you own it."

the unwelcomed silence filled every corner of your candlelit room and the tensed breathing between the two of you was all that could be heard.

as speechless as you were left, the rest of your body spoke for you. your palms met the tops of his hands, tenderly circling your thumb around his calloused skin. your lips were parted and he continued to look up at you as if you were the last thing his eyes could devour. you leaned down and slowly closed the distance between your curious faces. one of your hands reached out for his nape, grounding yourself before placing a clumsy kiss on his lips.

knight!levi who didn't pull away nor did he move from where he knelt. his eyes were slightly opened to a half-lid and his hands were still cupped by yours. he was no expert in initiating physical touch whatsoever, but he wanted to try just for you.

knight!levi who moves his hands from your lap to the sides of your face, arising from the floor but never breaking the kiss. he situates himself beside you, keeping one hand on your cheek and the other on your hip. it was passion, it was love. everything that couldn't be said in words was perfectly conveyed in an array of kisses and the molding of your body to his.

knight!levi who didn't want this to ever end, who wanted to be stuck here in a bubble of warmth with you forever. for as long as this night will allow for it, he will savor every part of you. he would worship you as if you were his temple and he wouldn't want to stop even when the morning rises.

☆ — 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @luvjiro , @youre-ackermine , @lovolee3 , @notgoodforlife , @averysmolbear , @bejewelledd , @leviismybby , @evas-leslas , @roseofdarknessblog @cometlevi , @21aurora (! ! 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝💌)

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wonwoonlight · 10 months

Note

Can you do all the members reacting “to finding out your sick by the internet” cause the other one was so good! maybe a series your choice though.

hi hi, i'm sorry i'm not accepting reqs rn so i'll answer this as a headcanon instead! thank you for enjoying cheol's version ❤❤ with that said, i'll start with jeonghan's and you can read cheol's here if you haven't already

jeonghan: would immediately call you while fuming, his jaw set and he badly wants to scream when you pick up but his worry overruns his anger so he exhales a deep breath and demands you to tell him whatever the fuck happened <//3

shua: is too worried to be angry, calls your manager, your family, and everyone who might know what happened bc you're not picking up his calls. asks if he can come over and brings a whole catering w him when he does

jun: will be very annoyed, if anything, bc he's been telling you to rest and he lowkey wants to ignore you when you apologize, but gives in and says he'll be at your door as soon as his schedule is finished; promises you a series of naggings that you will never hear the end of

hoshi: is eerily quiet when he gets to your place, which makes you feel even worse bc you know he's only quiet when he's on his edge, about to burst and barely able to keep it together. he'll take care of you in silence, asks quietly if you need anything, but will still hug you to sleep at the end of the night

wonwoo: texts your manager first to make sure what really happened and how it came to be. he wants to have all the info before he scolds you even though he got the gist of it already. after making sure (with your manager, not you lol) that it's okay for him to visit, he appears at your place unannounced, wraps you in your blanket, and refuses to let you move from your bed

jihoon: looks at you, deadpanned, with eyes that scream "i told you so" as you return his look with a sheepish one. he's not sure what good would scolding you right now be, and he doesn't want you to listen to him being annoyed when you're sick. so he holds it in and takes care of you without asking, making a mental note to himself to talk to you about it once you've recovered.

seokmin: is upset about the whole situation and the fact that he has to find out through the internet. like jun, he kinda wants to ignore you, but he compensates by taking care of you while complaining about the fact that you're not taking care of yourself under his breath. he'd be somewhat less upset had you told him you're not feeling well, so he makes you promise that you're not gonna hide your condition from him again

mingyu: unexpectedly would be calm, i feel like; kinda sees it coming, too. he's told you not once, not twice, but thrice that he's worried and you're gonna be burnt out if you don't pace yourself. so it's you apologizing to him once he calls you before he even says anything, he'd just sigh and sends you food and vitamins because he can't visit you immediately.

minghao: would actually ignore you loool only because it's a topic that he's brought up many times but you chose to ignore. so it's him ignoring you in return even though, like hoshi, he still takes care of you silently. he doesn't really talk though; doesn't ask anything, either. he hands you what you need an it's only when you hug him from the back and apologizes sadly that his wall dissolves.

hansol: annoyed but doesn't show it; he asks about your condition, wants to make sure what went wrong, asks about what the doctor said and everything in between before he asks how you're feeling. he sounds like a dad reprimanding their child, voice laced with worry but felt the need to scold you nevertheless.

seungkwan: arrives at your door with hoards of fruits and vitamins. he demands you tell him why you didn't tell him first that you're not feeling well, why you're not taking care of yourself, and what makes you think you're some superhero that doesn't need rest. and when you tell him you don't need him doing this right now, he asks what would you do if it was him in your exact same position so you'd understand why he's upset.

chan: would call you and asks how you're feeling, tries to hide the fact that he's upset even though you can tell at once from his voice. he sighs when you apologize, then reminds you that it's yourself you need to be sorry for because you're not taking care of it properly <//3

A/N: once again apologizing bc i realize i'm the Weakest when it comes to headcanon <///3 hopefully you enjoy this anyway <3

#seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #seventeen scenario #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen headcanons #khione.headcanons #anon

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red-riding-wood · 4 months

Note

Hi darling, I have a request for a drabble if you feel inspired. ❛ people like us don’t get to decide when we’re done. ❜ from the prompt list with Arthur Shelby.

People Like Us

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x F!Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: graphic depiction of suicide attempts, blood and cutting, angst, comfort

WC: 1848

Definitely not just a drabble, got a bit carried away with this one. I'm sorry this is so late, Lee! Getting back on track with writing.

You’d thought everyone had left. But Arthur had remained; he always did, for at least a few minutes after, to make sure you were safe. He stood outside your door, watching the coppers stationed in the darkened alleys, occasionally knocking one’s teeth out when he didn’t think they were taking their watch over you seriously. Sometimes, when the night was most quiet, and the voices of those he’d damned did not plague his mind, he thought about admitting things to you – feelings, that you likely did not reciprocate.

Tonight, your bathroom light had been on, and your screeching pierced the walls of the residence and filled the night air of Birmingham like some sort of banshee.

Your eyes were foggy when the door swung open and the man nearly slipped making his way to you, a bruised hand clasping around the porcelain of the tub and a few locks of hair wisping over his eyes before the same hand was wrapping around you, pulling you up. Crimson streaked your vision as it dribbled down your wrist, pooling around you, staining the bathwater a pale, sickening shade of red. For one dreadful moment, you feared you might never escape it, that you would drown with the tang of bitter iron on your tongue and the blood-water would swallow your eyes, your throat, your ears.

But Arthur’s palm in yours was strong, and warm; it pumped a new life in your veins and sent shivers along your numb, tingling flesh, and heaved you from the waters of death in one dizzying sweep. Head rolling back, long fingers caught you, cradling you against the heat of his chest, the palpitations of his wild heart coming to you in shockwaves. Yours were frighteningly faint in comparison to his.

You shivered in his arms – cold, suddenly, past the heat of the adrenaline – as your bare flesh met the biting air, curling in on yourself like a child. Everything took a second or two to register, maybe more – did time even exist? It must have; it must have, because you were fading fast. And Arthur was holding you, and your wet, metallic lips buried themselves in the soft fabric of his chest, desperate to hear the sound of his heartbeat drown out yours. Desperate to cling to the living.

“D – don’t let it take me,” you mumbled into his chest. He smelled like blood, bullets and sweat. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes. He smelled like the lavender oil you’d given him to help him sleep among his demons. He smelled like home.

A thumb stroked lovingly over your drenched scalp. How could the same hands that had strangled a poor man to death last week be so gentle to you?

“No one’s takin’ you, love.” His hot breath sent another shiver through you, down the nape of your neck. But his words quivered. “Not as long as there is breath in me goddamn breast.”

The remnants of the red tide clung to your bare skin, ringlets of drenched hair clinging to your neck, threatening to choke the life from you. In the pitch black of your mind, it frothed at the seams, spilling into the void that seemed to span wider, and wider, until you were lost in the middle of an ocean.

“Arth… Ar…” Delirious, spinning – everything was spinning. Your nails dug into his skin, fabric bunching in your shaking fist, and you gasped, aftershave and blood and lavender all flooding your senses before blackness came to you in a staccato rhythm, once and twice and once and twice and twice and once and thrice…

---

Your blood was starting to dry on Arthur’s shirt when he came inside to see you. He’d injured two men when they tried taking you from him during your blood transfusion, and he’d nearly killed another as he’d been dragged to the alleyway behind the hospital. There, he kicked at brick walls ‘til the leather of shoes peeled, and punched ‘til his shoulders screamed in their sockets and his knuckles split open. Cursed that damned god of his for letting this happen to you, threatened that if he did not return you to him, he would bring Hell down on the heavens.

His neck still burned with an inflamed red mark where he’d torn the chain of the cross from his neck, the metal now stained with your blood, too. Everything, everything was painted in it, everywhere he looked, and his own bloodied knuckles clenched around the cross tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Shelby. I didn’t know – “

“Just lemme see ‘er,” Arthur told the nurse, the gruff of his voice nearly cracking from his wailing and screaming in the alley. The only reason they had let him in was because of the name he bore, and once he knew you were okay he’d personally see to it that each one of them understood the repercussions of denying a Shelby.

Like a mouse under the stare of a mad dog, the nurse scurried off, doors shutting and leaving the room quiet save for the steady beeping, and the creak of the floor beneath Arthur’s torn shoes.

Watery eyes took in your half-conscious form, curled up in the hospital bed just as you’d been curled in his arms, a light gown draped over you. You were still shivering.

While relief settled in the pit of his twisting stomach, grief still knotted his throat, and as much as he tried to hold the tears back, he tasted both salt and blood on his tongue as he lowered himself beside you, bloodied and ringed fingers ghosting across your arms, as if fearful that he would hurt you.

A sliver of white light tore along the blackness, and your eyes squinted shut, a pain throbbing in your skull. Every thread of sinew and marrow seemed to ache, deep inside your body where you didn’t even know pain could exist, and the red tide lapped at the blurred edges of your mind as you lay flat on your little island in the middle of the sea. The rock beneath you was soft as you rolled your head over, a clean, unfamiliar scent seeming to send your mind into turmoil, shifting your reality between the light and dark, like a pendulum that swung across the white of the heavens, an eclipse that brought you pain and light one moment, darkness and cold the next.

The soft touch of the angel was warm along your arms as the light shattered the black sky, and you gasped. Its touch waned, and you arched your back to sit up, hand reaching feebly for it in the unknown. “Angel…” you thought you breathed. “Angel… don’t go. Don’t leave me here.”

Don’t leave me here to be swallowed by the red tide.

Your fingers grasped something tangible, something soft and warm, a fire burning beneath softness. Flesh, hot against your palms. Lavender and iron called to you, and finally, strong hands wrapped around you to pull you close.

“I ain’t no angel,” a familiar, lulling voice spoke as light cleaved the darkness in two and tore it, strip by strip, from your starry gaze. “But I ain’t goin’ anywhere, love.”

“Arthur.” You smiled around the name, lashes fluttering as you blinked against his blurry visage. Messy strands of hair flopped over his winter-blue eyes, and you clung to the collar of his shirt, dizzy but supported by his hands on your spine, rough and worn against your skin where the hospital gown split.

The pendulum swung against your skull, and your gut roiled with nausea. Your eyes wandered to the wrists that had been bandaged, the red tide seeping into the white. Something beside you beeped to the swing of the pendulum, but broke its rhythm suddenly. Your heart leapt to your throat.

“Shhh,” Arthur said, thumb making little circles over your spine. “We’re gonna get you home, love.”

The red tide began to seep into the corners of your vision as images hurtled towards you in the wide, never-ending ocean. The bullets strewn across your end table, each etched with a name that would haunt your dreams as those before them had. The porcelain of a bathtub, as pallid as the boy’s face who’d taken shrapnel to his chest not twenty feet before your eyes. The heat of the blood-water, like the heat of the fire that had devoured the Garrison the night your innocence had been lost.

“I don’t want to go back,” you pleaded with him, panicking as you found yourself attached to a thin, red tube.

Your fists pummeled his chest weakly and your knees kicked against his leg, and your frail body writhed beneath his grasp, but despite his heart breaking, he did not release you. The burn of the chain he’d snapped from his neck reminded him of the rope that he’d tied years ago, and he could feel a chasm opening beneath his boots as his legs had kicked from under him like yours did now.

And as you finally began to settle, wracked by soft sobs, he cupped your cheek in his bloodied hand, and he looked into the same eyes that had saved him, as he repeated your own words back to you, the words that still echoed in his mind whenever he thought of pulling the trigger on the trouble in his head or tying another noose,

“People like us don’t get to decide when we’re done.”

God damn him, damn his selfish soul for the look in those eyes that had once been so strong, for the way your jaw trembled against his hand. His lip curled, quivering, another tear streaking across his face as he tried desperately to keep the last, frayed threads of his sanity from snapping. Tried to hold himself together so that he could save you.

Because as much as it broke his heart to see you like this, and as much as he cursed his brother but mostly himself for dragging you into this life, he could not lose you.

“You hear me?” Arthur’s voice rose as his fingers dug into your jaw, his gentleness overcome by desperation as the noose tightened round his neck. The hinges of the bed creaked as the wooden stool had, and you watched as his face flushed red. He was going to break.

You shimmied forward, wading through the red tide, finding the water to be shallow here as you crawled onto his lap and buried your face in the crook of his neck. Hugging him so tight that you kept the shattered pieces of him together. That you snapped the rope on his noose and he gasped for air against the lavender and blood of your scalp.

“I hear you,” you murmured into the warmth of his neck, and when you shut your eyes, you stood ashore from the red tide. The sweat and tears against his flesh still smelled of the sea, and though these waters thrashed, they ran clear. And you knew that your angel would guide you through them.

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey @zablife

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m3rakii · 9 months

Text

Pretty little hero

tw: implied captivity, hero getting beat up, a lot, whump, non con touch (not sexual), a kinda yandere villain, idk what else lol

➽───── ⋆｡˚˚̣̣̣͙« ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ »˚̣̣̣͙⋆｡˚ ─────▸

Hero was lying in a slump against the wall, opening their mouth to say something witty, or at least a simple “Shut up” in response, but instead, blood came out in tiny droplets, splattering all over the wooden floor of the bed- no, torture room.

Hero rose up, or rather tried to, but with a swift kick from Villain in the gut, Hero was back on the floor, coughing, no… more like, hacking, growing increasingly worse. Hero clutched their side, letting out a small whine as Villain grabbed them by their shirt, lifting them up into the air, their feet dangling.

Villain threw them back onto the ground, scoffing at the pathetic waste of space on the floor continuously wailing, sobbing, pleading, and basically, just being annoying.

Villain sighed at the sight, as Hero’s cries grew louder, and their words no longer coherent, as they were blubbering, and blubbering, and blubbering-

“Shut up.”

“P-please I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just, j-just stop, please, please-”

“Shut. Up.” The Villain repeated, clenching their fists.

“S-sorry just please, ple-please don-”

Villain grabbed them by the hair, tightening their grip as Hero let out a shriek, hitting their head against the wall, once. Twice. Thrice. And-, honestly Hero had lost count as Villain kept hitting, and hitting, and hitting, and hitting their poor head over, and over.

Hero lifted up their arm, grabbing onto Villain’s arms, in a rather pitiful attempt to stop Villain. Villain rolled their eyes at this, pausing for a moment. They brought Hero’s head away from the wall, to slam it into the floor, however Hero had tilted over, collapsing, hitting their head onto the floor themselves instead.

Villain scoffed, beginning to lift up their leg, however they dropped their leg, the sides of their mouth quickly turned up, and into a mechanical, almost grin as Hero’s eyes began fluttering shut, their vision growing dark.

Hero tried to stand up once more, to preserve the tiny shred of dignity that they had left but, to their avail, they collapsed immediately, right into Villain’s arms.

Villain’s eyes had slightly widened, yet visibly softened as they saw their dear, precious, Hero fall limp into their arms, now fully unconscious. Not Supervillain’s, not Superhero’s, not Sidekick’s, but theirs.

Villain placed Hero against a wall gingerly, to grab, then wrap a plush set of bandages around Hero’s head, since it was the only place that was actually bleeding. Villain then lifted them up into a bridal carry, before kissing the top of Hero’s head, brushing their bangs aside.

They left the room, walking through the endless corridors of Villain’s hous-, no mansion-, a manor rather, resembling a pristine castle. After a few minutes of walking, they arrived at Hero’s room, or rather, “Hero’s lush cell”, Villain said under their breath, mimicking Hero’s constant disapproval of being locked up in a room “against their will”. Villain let out a small sigh, before kicking the door open, and placing Hero onto an enormous bed.

Villain grabbed the chains dangling on the bed’s headrest, clasping a separate chain around each of Hero’s arms. They moved back a bit, admiring their handiwork, contemplating whether or not they should chain Hero’s legs as well, so there was no chance of escape. Villain decided not to, however, since Hero would most definitely awaken to be very, very, dazy, given the state of their head.

They moved forward, trailing their fingers along the countless bruises littering Hero’s soft, plush skin. Given most of them were fresh, most appeared a bright red, however a few dark purple ones also resided, especially around Hero’s wrist, which was a multitude of colors, since it was Villain’s very apparent place to manhandle. Though the Hero was extremely lean and fit, they were just so… tiny.

Villain chuckled to themselves, as they moved down to Hero’s abs, drawing their fingers all over them. It was rather funny to Villain, that had they not drugged Hero, rendering them weak, Hero would have easily been able to attack back, and actually win. Hero was a miniscule little thing, well only to Villain really. Hero was around 5 '3, at max, which isn’t even small to most, but given Villain stood at the glorious height of 6' 3, Hero resembled as a little figurine, to the Villain.

A gorgeous, little thing the Hero was.

“You're so pretty…” Villain cooed into Hero’s hair, causing Hero to rustle a little, however still remaining unconscious. Not wanting Hero to awake just yet, Villain having many, many things to prepare for the Hero, they left both Hero, and the room. They slid a few bolts, and a chain while marveling to themselves just how adorable Hero would be when they awoke.

Just before they left, they peered at Hero through the peephole, letting out a soft sigh at the sight of their pretty little hero, just so helpless.

Oh how much fun they would have the next day.

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ravencincaide · 5 months

Text

Damned if you do- Damned if you don’t

Summary: Just because you were getting married didn’t mean you had to play nice. Unfortunately for you, banter did not seem to be the way to escape your engagement. But it did make certain situations unnecessarily complicated. Or the time Chuuya had ungodly amount of patience with you.

Pairing: Rebellious reader x Prince!Chuuya Nakahara

Inspired by request by anon: arranged marriage, unladylike behaviour, running away and being brought right back by guards. set in 1920-1930'

Warnings: Arranged marriage and misogynistic view, insults/banter, cursing.

Enjoy

______________________________________________________________

You scaled the wall with ease, your hands grabbing at the uneven surfaces. You hosted yourself up, then reached for the next unevenness. Just a little bit more- two- no- three more bricks and you’d be high enough to reach the top of the wall. Then you would be able to pull yourself up, roll over and drop down on the opposite side. A short walk later and you’d be near the city center and then–

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Get down from there!” you heard a rough male voice call out somewhere behind you, followed by the cling clang of metal as guards rushed towards you.

Fuck.

You climbed faster, carelessly. Trying to remember where the next protruding brick was. You grasped it just as the guards stopped beneath you. Then you hosted yourself higher- your fingers brushing the edge of the wall just as you felt the metallic gauntlet gripped your ankle.

A rough tug and you were yanked off the wall with a scream.

You fell for only a few seconds:your back made contact with the rough metal of the knight's armor which dug deep into your skin. Strong arm wrapped around your waist while the second one landed on your head, protecting you from the fall. Then the both of you went tumbling to the ground. Once, twice, thrice you two rolled before a bush finally stopped your movements.

You tore yourself away from the knight with a groan checking all limbs for any injuries or broken bones. Aside from a bunch of dirt and some minor scrapes you were entirely unharmed. Bummer- you were sure a deeper injury would have incited your parents wrath to postpone the marriage, or in the very least garnish enough sympathy to give you some time away from this hellhole.

Tearing your eyes away from the scapes, you glared darkly at the two knights: “ What the hell?!” you growled as the other knight ran up to the both of you. The knight that tugged you down from the wall laughed- his laughter echoing inside his helmet as he pried himself off the ground.

“ Up you go princess” The first knight chuckled at your scowl as he pulled you up to stand between the two of them; each of them grabbing onto your arms. Like a prisoner.

“ Hey! Don’t call me that!” you snapped as they began half walking- half dragging you back towards the main castle ignoring the way the new maids and staff gaped and gawked at the sight of you. While the more seasoned staff merely rolled their eyes and rushed away, no doubt preparing a bath and trying to find the one that managed to take their eyes off of you long enough for you to make yet another escape attempt.

Idiotically and futile; everyone knew you were never going to be the type of princess who’d adhere to the customs and norms and just sit quietly in your room. For better or worse.

Instead of dragging you back to your chambers the guards pulled you straight towards the grand dining room where the doors were already wide opened; signaling that breakfast would begin any moment now. Seems someone from your so-called new family was ready to start the day. You’d be willing to bet half a year's allowance that it was Chuuya. And you were not wrong. Damn it.

You cursed loudly as the knights dragged you all the way up to the table. They bowed, let your arms go before moving to take their post at the door.

“Mhph It’s not even breakfast time yet you’re already dragged in here by guards. Don’t you have some self respect? If you want to go out you just need to ask.” Chuuya did not bother to look up at you, his focus entirely on the tray set down by the butler with three different, freshly brewed cups of newly imported coffee. So typical- even at breakfast all Chuuya was focused on was keeping favour with the right people in high society and that damned work of his.

“ Like hell I’m asking for anything from the likes of you!” You spat plucking a twig out of your hair before tossing it onto the tray in front of Chuuya, earning yourself a dark glare. Before you could toss a leaf into his drink, the butler came forward and pulled your chair out for you, taking your attention away from the ginger. You moved over to your seat and flopped down into it ungracefully before plucking more thorns, leaves and other garden reminiscences off your clothes, studying them with fake interest until you gathered a large bunch. However before you could throw it at the smug prince the butler intervened, taking the debris out of your hands and handing you a warm towel to clean your hands with instead. You frowned at the older man but had enough sense to let it go- you did not want to make the head butler's life more difficult just because you hated the family he served.

Your look did not go unnoticed: “ Seriously? Can’t you get a hobby like a normal woman! Read a book or engage in high society” Chuuya hissed, his voice thick with annoyance. In one hand he held one of the three cups of espresso while in another a zippo lighter, readying to light the cigarette that was dangling between his lips. Coffee and cigarettes.

So typical of your soon-to-be.

“ Oh and be like you? Nothing but work and women on your mind!” you snapped back your eyes boring holes into the man, not missing the way his smile was replaced with a frown.

“ Oj! Be thankful goddamn it! Any other man would have beaten the shit out of you for your antics already!” He turned his eyes away from you and lit his cigarette. He took a deep drag, the nicotine driving some of his stress and frustration right out of him.

“ Beaten? The shit out of me?” you laughed then sneered, teeth bared “I’d like to see you try, little prince”

Chuuya growled then leaned forward blowing the smoke in your face. Hitting your senses with the smell of tobacco, coffee and just a hint of Chuuya’s cologne. You did not cough at the smoke, but rather made a big show of waving your hand in front of your face to clear the air. “ Yucks it stinks, just like you”

“ Why you ignorant little–” Chuuya’s insult was cut right off by the kings unimpressed statement of; “- Children stop fighting- it’s not even breakfast time.”

Both of you stiffened in your seats. You muttered a polite ‘good morning’ before turning your attention to look out of the window. That seemed the least awkward option than staring or glaring at either of the royal men, or the fussing staff that brought out breakfast and then made the dire mistake of attempting to take the imported coffee away from Chuuya. Hearing his snarky remark towards the maid made you roll your eyes. As another maid placed your food in front of you, you went out of your way to thank her profusely, acting the very opposite of your soon to be. Much to Chuuya’s annoyance.

“ Oh so you do know manners?” Chuuya grumbled under his breath beside you as he put out his cigarette before lighting himself another one directly after.

Faking a fake shocked expression, you stared at him with wide eyes: “ Oh my you know such an advanced word already- manners- you must be–”

You were cut off as the king cleared his throat, once again intervening in your bickering. Chuuya flashed you a cocky grin, as if to say he won that round, while you rolled your eyes as you poked the sunny side up eggs with your fork, smearing the yolk over hashbrowns. You took a bite, instantly wishing for some seasoning: like salt, chili flakes or sambal.

“ The coming of age ball are starting and invitations are flooding in. To show the royal families support, you two will be attending the balls of our closest allies.” The king declared, his eyes focused on his breakfast. He clearly didn’t care about the blank look on Chuuya’s face nor the slight hint of excitement on yours at the prospect of finally going somewhere outside palace walls without an equipment of staff and guards watching your every breath!

“ And do try to act like a proper couple; you will be husband and wife shortly” the king added with an afterthought. His words made you groan loudly- not knowing what was worse: the flavorless breakfast, being stuck inside this shitty castle or having to act all lovey-dovey in high society events again. In short your life felt as shitty as your morning.

“ God don’t tell me I have to go with him?`Yes? Damn okay then please, please tell me I can be spared from dancing with Shortie at the very least!” You rudely pointed your fork in Chuuya's direction while your eyes were focused on the king's collected expression.

You could hear Chuuya stab his food with a little too much force at your words; “Hmph who else would even want to be in the same room as someone so trashy if they weren’t forced into it? At least have the common sense not to cause a political conflict at such a simple event!”

“ Chuuya has a point that you would need a wardrobe update for these events to match the latest fashion. You will start with it today” The king's words made you smile, for a moment forgetting all about the bickering. Oh how lovely- in a few hours you’d finally get a breather from here. And then maybe you could– “ But Y/N do clean up before you head out” the king commanded while slicing into his plate of bacon and eggs. “ No respectable place worthy of royal business will let you within a feet of their store with twigs and leaves in your hair”

Your smile dropped instantly and you rolled your eyes but nodded, showing you understood the order and the unspoken consequences if you disobeyed. You may be rude and rebelious but you were not suicidal. Still Chuuya couldn’t help but rub those words in for you. As if eager to spoil anything good that came your way!

“ You see sweetheart if only you’d been patient instead of bratty you could be outside the palace walls already” Chuuya taunted you before taking a sip of another cup of the imported coffee. The way he put the cup down quickly told you it was far too tart for his liking.

“ Oh and Chuuya do make sure you match with Y/N. Like a proper husband. Not like last time” Chuuya’s smile didn’t falter though his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“ Hey! I would have matched just fine if she had at least a vague sense of taste and fashion- ”

“ Of course you’d know all about it, little miss Chuuya” you growled feeling an oncoming headache.

“ What the fuck did you just say?” Chuuya’s voice went up in pitch- a clear indication you were walking on thin ice. You didn’t care however- if anything you prayed he’d finally lose his cool and call off this so-called engagement.

“ I said: You’d know all about it – That’s all your head’s filled with after all: clothes, high society, coffee. My, you’d make a fine girl if you ditched the suit and grew some tits. Down there you’re already–

“- At the very least I know better than to wear cheap commoner rags to a ball, harpy!” Chuuya cut you off, taking a long drag off his smoke as he watched you gap at the insult.

“ Harpy?! Who the hell are you calling a harpy you simpleton? If there was anyone worth dressing up for I’d have actually bothered looking good!”

“ Please as if a battle axe can have any— ““ – That is enough” the king cut Chuuya off with a calm and collected tone. “ You two have a long day ahead of you- you better get going.”

With those words your barely touched breakfast was ripped away from you while two maids began ushing you back towards your chambers. Much to your disappointment. Still you didn’t miss the smirk on Chuuya’s face as he watched you get dragged out of the dining room. If anything he made sure to annoy you more by raising his cup of coffee to you before tapping two fingers on his wrist, reminding you not to waste his time anymore than necessary. It seems he was giving you until he was done with his coffee for you to get ready to leave- or else you’d spend yet another day coped up inside the palace walls.

You growled before turning your back to him and following the maids back to your room in a hurry.

You swore you were going to find a way to wipe that shiteating grin off his face. Even if it meant you’d have to swallow your pride and get ready quickly to head out to the royal family’s dressers and boutiques. Once there however you would do your best to pick up and wear the priciest and most ridiculous dress that the boutique had to offer. Maybe even the ugliest thing in sight just to see the proud, appearance-fixated bastard colour match and hang with you in this high class event. Just to see him lose a little face in front of his so-called precious high society.

And maybe, just maybe, that was all it would take to finally get this marriage called off.

#chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara #ask answered #Chuuya x reader #Chuuya #Chuuya bsd #bungo stray dogs #prince Chuuya #BSD AU

102 notes · View notes

obitohno · 2 years

Text

stay

fushiguro toji x reader

synopsis ⤸

you know that loving toji is forbidden, but you just can’t help yourself.

themes ⤸

fem! reader, 18+, student-teacher relationship, age gap, angst, forbidden relationship, unrequited love, love confessions, make up sex, creampies, spooning, cowgirl, missionary, reader is twenty-three, toji is in his early forties, professor fushiguro

word count ⤸

7.1k (semi-edited)

a/n ⤸

i have to confess that i’m not the biggest fan of jjk, but i like the characters, n atm, i have major toji brain rot, it’s literally taking over my mind. i think that the forbidden love suits him, so this is the result of me not being able to stop thinking about ‘professor fushiguro’, hhh. this is my first jjk au, so i hope that you enjoy it :)

reblogs are appreciated ~

it’s long past nightfall, and morally, you know that you’re not supposed to be sneaking around the university campus in the middle of the night, but alas, here you are, skirt riding up the length of your thighs as you hoist yourself up and over the iron-welded gate that is supposed to keep you locked out of the building that you’re currently aiming for. you land on the other side of the gate with a soft grunt, hands breaking your fall onto the tarmac, barely avoiding scraping your knees in the process. rushing your way over to the side door of the age-old building of the staff quarters is harder work as you have to duck behind the bike shed, and weave under a particularly leafy shrub-like tree, to avoid alerting the security camera that glares red from the upper wall.

once you reach the door, you make quick work of picking the lock with a hairpin, the corners of your mouth tugging into a small smile when you hear the tell-tale click that announces your success. the door swings shut behind you, and once you stand inside the main hallway, the thrill of potentially being caught makes your pulse race so harshly that you actually feel your neck throb with each beat. you swallow down the anxiety that belatedly rears it’s ugly head, and you quietly make the short journey to your destination.

professor fushiguro’s quarters are, luckily for you, the only ones that are located on the ground floor. it not only makes your mission easier to achieve, but it also lessens the unlikely chance of other members of staff loitering nearby when their quarters are on the upper floors. the only downside is that the kitchens and lounging areas are also located on the ground floor, but you’ve made this trek countless of times, and so far, you’re yet to encounter anyone other than the very man that you’re here to visit.

all too soon, your fist is raising to gently tap the wooden frame that you’re well accustomed to, once, twice, thrice, before your hand limply falls to your side. although quiet, the sound of your knock masks any noise that may come from inside, and you fail to hear the soft laughter coming from somewhere behind the door. when there’s no immediate answer, you frown, and your hand raises to repeat the action, only to freeze when the door is suddenly yanked open to reveal a familiar shot of dark hair and a pair of forest coloured eyes that stare down at you, rounded with bewilderment.

he blocks the doorway, obnoxiously tall frame towering above you, and his expression is anything but welcoming. ‘what are you doin’ here?’ he hisses down at you, dark brows pinching together.

‘uh, it’s wednesday?’ you remind him, taken aback by his odd behaviour. ‘we always—’

‘you didn’t get my text?’ he interrupts you, glancing over his shoulder. at this exact second, you hear something, or rather, someone, moving around in the apartment behind him, and your eyes widen upon realising that he’s not alone. his head whips back toward you, and he whispers furiously, ‘you can’t be here.’ he then tries to pull the door shut behind him, but it’s too late.

‘toji? darling?’

it’s a woman’s voice, you recognise, stomach twisting with nausea when you catch the brief look of embarrassment that passes over toji’s features. understanding the situation, you back away from the doorway—away from him—and you thickly swallow the lump that has formed at the back of your throat.

he has the audacity to whisper your name, but when his hand reaches for you, you flinch out of reach. ‘it’s not what it looks—’

you don’t stick around to listen to the rest of his lie.

you’re already halfway down the hall when you hear him mumbling behind you, ‘—s’just a student askin’ ‘bout test papers.’

‘this late?’ the woman’s voice questions.

‘she’s… dedicated,’ comes toji’s delayed reply, and you listen to his lady friend laughing as if the prospect of a student dedicated to their studies is somehow particularly amusing to her. her soft titter is cut short by the door slamming shut behind them.

it isn’t until you’ve made your way out of the building and jumped back over the gate that it hits you properly.

jujutsu academy is home to a student body of exactly fifteen thousand, two hundred and fifty-seven students, with majority of those students living in halls because the location is quite literally the middle of bloody nowhere as itadori yuuji had described it on the very first day that you’d met him. he’d helped you when you’d gotten lost in the library, and at first, you’d assumed that he was a fellow student, only to be taken by surprise when he’d revealed that he’s actually a member of the coaching staff in the sports department. it had turned out that the two of you are actually around the same age—give or take a few months here and there—and the two of you had bonded quickly. you told him that you were majoring in english literature, and that’s when he revealed, with a scowl plastered between his brows, that the head tutor of the english department is actually his best friend’s dad. yuuji’s depiction of professor fushiguro didn’t paint the man in a very good light, so when you attended your very first lecture, you’d been nervous about meeting the ugly old man with a constant stick up his ass.

only, professor fushiguro was neither old or ugly, and he definitely didn’t walk around like he had a stick up his ass. in fact, you had been pleasantly surprised when you’d met a very fairly attractive man who had barely breached his forties, and the moment he’d smirked down at you, you instantly knew that you would be in for a world of trouble.

because campus is a good three hour’s drive from the rest of civilisation, most of the staff also reside here during term time. and among them, there are one or two members that stay behind during the holidays when everyone has gone back home. and professor fushiguro is one of them, you’d discovered after quite literally bumping into him after exiting the library after a study session during the easter break. he’d seemed surprised to realise that you’d also chosen to stay on campus instead of returning home, and it had been evident that he was curious as to why, but he’d allowed you your privacy, as you had him.

after that, he’d offered extra study lessons, but after just a few months, you realised that fuck, you liked him. at first, you’d passed it off as a simple crush on a man whom you clearly respected as your senior. but, that admiration had quickly burned into something more, and soon, he was all you thought about. one night, after consuming alcohol stolen from the kitchens in your classmate’s dorm, you had most definitely been drunk when you had eventually stumbled your way back to your own dorm.

it is for this reason that when you’d passed by professor fushiguro in the hallway, you’d been filled with a false sense of confidence and had boldly pushed him against the wall and crushed your mouth to his.

this confidence had faltered when he’d stood frozen for a few seconds too long. but when you’d moved your lips away from his, he’d chased after you, and had proceeded to kiss you until your knees were weak.

that was two years ago.

despite having recently celebrated your twenty-third birthday, you know that whilst he maintains the position of your tutor, your bond with toji isn’t one that can be shared in pubic, and so, the comfort of his quarters has become a private space that the two of you have made your haven, together, hidden from the eyes of everyone around you. and at some point during the last two years, your admiration for him has morphed into a love that is forbidden by both society and of the subject of your affections, himself. when you’d first started sleeping together, he’d made it perfectly clear that that was as far as things would ever go. you had both agreed to go exclusive, but there would be no relationship, and there would certainly be no feelings involved. you’ve clearly broken that promise, but as long as he never found out, then you thought that you’d be okay with any semblance of affection that he showed you.

however, you’d failed to think of the possibility that he’d eventually find someone. someone that he doesn’t have to hide his relationship with—someone he genuinely loved.

maybe it’s because you know that he is it for you, but the notion of him wanting someone else just hadn’t occurred to you. although he’d never voiced anything aloud, you had thought that you’d meant something to him.

the realisation that you’ve been wrong this entire time makes you feel sick. you’re unable to stop the first tear that slides down the curve of your cheek, and it is quickly followed by many others. you choke on a sob that threatens to escape out of your mouth, and instead, you gnaw your teeth into your bottom lip and quicken your pace as the bottoms of your shoes scuff the ground with each footstep. the journey back to your dorm is a blur, mainly because of the tears that won’t stop pissing down your face, but you somehow manage to lock the door shut behind you, kick off your shoes and make your way to your bedroom, collapsing to the bed just as the first gut-wrenching wail heaves out from the pit of your stomach. you’re unsure of how much time passes as you lay there crying, but at some point, you must fall asleep because when your eyes open next, your throat is sore and there are dry track-marks that have crusted to the surface of your cheeks. a squint toward your bedside table shows that the digital clock now reads 03:51 and you exhale a long breath from your nostrils.

your fingers blindly reach for your mobile phone and a quick glance at the screen shows that he had, in fact, messaged you, warning you that he had plans tonight.

plans.

enraged—at him or yourself, you haven’t decided yet—you scoff, and without reading the new message that he sent just an hour or so ago, your thumb and index finger press to power off the device. it lands with a clunky thud when you drop it onto the bedside table. you roll over, eyelids closing, and with this, you attempt to sleep.

๑

three days later, and you’re yet to leave your dorm. you spend majority of these three days laying horizontal apart from when you have to use the bathroom. you’ve barely slept, you’ve not eaten either, and you’ve also missed several lectures, so you know that it’s only a matter of time before someone (yuuji) comes looking for you. it’s only with the guilt of potentially worrying the pinkette that you are convinced to finally venture from your dorm on the fourth day.

you have an english lecture in less than an hour, but you figure that you should have enough time to find something to fill your empty stomach for the first time in ninety-six hours. you’re just about to enter the campus cafe when a loud, boisterous voice bellows your name and you turn just in time to see yuuji making a beeline for you just before his arms curl tight around your shoulders, squeezing. he collides with you so suddenly that it makes you dizzy, and aided by the fact that you’ve not eaten for days, you suffer a sickening bout of visual static. to your embarrassment—and yuuji’s horror—you sway, and your fingers clutch at his hoodie in an attempt to keep yourself upright.

‘oh my god,’ yuuji exclaims, spluttering an apology as he guides you to sit on a nearby wall. he crouches before you, his hands enveloping yours, blurting several questions, one after the other, ‘where have you been? why didn’t you call me back? i’ve been calling you for days. are you sick? you look sick. can i do anything to—?’

‘food,’ you blurt, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to ease the ache that’s settling deep into your temples. ‘please.’

‘i’ll be straight back,’ he promises, and with a little hesitation, he leaves your side. blowing a puff of air from between your lips, you don’t have to wait long for yuuji to return to your side. he sits next to you, shoving a cinnamon bun and a bottle of coke under your nose. ‘you need sugar,’ he explains when you raise an eyebrow at his choice. he (im)patiently waits for you to devour the cinnamon bun and half of the bottle of coke before he says, ‘no offence, but you look…’ he grimaces, evidently unsure of how to finish his sentence without offending you.

you don’t have to look into a mirror to know that bags have formed under your eyes, your hair disheveled because you didn’t bother combing it before you left out this morning, and your clothes are crumpled because you’d picked out the first outfit you’d found in the pile dumped on the floor by the foot of your bed.

you know that you look like shit.

‘sorry,’ you mumble. ‘i’ve not been sleeping well.’

or, at all.

yuuji is frowning, ‘has something—?’

you’re not ready for this conversation. mostly because you honestly don’t know how to explain that you’ve been having an affair with your professor for the past two years, nor admit out loud that you’re in love with said professor, or accept that you’ve spent the last three days wallowing in your own misery because said professor sees you as nothing more than a body to warm his bed.

your frown deepens, ‘i really don’t want to talk about it… please. i-i’ll be fine, i’m just… i’m tired.’

he relents, but you can see that he wishes to argue otherwise. the fact that he doesn’t fills you with gratitude that you show by leaning to bump the side of your head against his shoulder. he leans into your weight, sighing. the minutes tick by, and eventually, you decide it’s time to make your way over to your morning lecture, despite how much you wish to go back to your dorm and sleep. yuuji offers to accompany you to the lecture hall, and with each step, your stomach anxiously twists with nerves. luckily, when you arrive, there are already people inside, and so you wave your goodbyes to your pink haired friend and quietly enter the hall.

heart in your mouth, you pointedly refuse to look toward the desk at the front of the hall, where, from the corner of your eye, you see him sitting there, busying himself with fiddling with the projector. with his back to the room, he doesn’t seem to notice you, and instead of taking your normal seat at the front, you hide yourself at the back of the hall, sinking low in your seat in a bid to make yourself look smaller.

it seems to work, the task made easier when the hall starts to fill with more people as the clock ticks closer to nine am. through heavily lidded eyes, you’re mindlessly following the scribble of your biro dragging across your notebook, so immersed in your drawing that you flinch when a calloused hand slaps this morning’s lecture notes onto your desk. your pen stills, and as quickly as the hand appeared, it leaves again, already moving on to hand out the rest of the sheets to his other students. only when he’s finished his task and starting the lecture, do you dare to look up from the note that is scrawled in the corner of your handout.

he looks as rough as you feel.

there’s a faint shadow tracing the sharp edges of his jaw from where a stubble is beginning to grow, the strands of his hair even messier than usual, and his skin is pale when illuminated by the beam of the projector. he doesn’t seem to have slept much either, the skin under his eyes appearing darker than usual. you stare, your chest heavy with the hope that maybe he’s just as affected by your separation as you have been. but that hope is quickly smothered by the ugly feeling of doubt, and your eyes reluctantly drag from his face, dropping back to the familiar haphazard scrawl of his handwriting.

see me after class.

๑

you do not see him after class.

as soon as the bell tolls, you can’t hightail it out of there fast enough, merging with the crowd of your fellow classmates as you rush out of the room. but, because of your increasingly bad luck, you end up loitering at the back of the group as the lack of energy has you slowing your pace in an effort to not overexert yourself. they easily overtake you, some of them glancing at your unkempt state, and you’re left to wander down the hall by yourself.

only, you don’t make it very far.

just as you’re about to turn the corner, a warm, large hand wraps around your wrist and yanks. startled, your shriek is muffled by another hand slapping over your mouth, and then you’re dragged backwards, through an open door that leads to what looks like a storage cupboard. the door is kicked shut, and then you’re spun around, your back pressed against it by the hand on your shoulder.

toji towers above you, arms caging you in with no room to escape. you have no choice but to peer up at that beautiful face of his, the corners of your mouth pulling downward when your eyes meet his.

‘i called,’ he says, tone dry.

you force what you hope to be a neutral expression, shrugging one shoulder.

‘and?’

he doesn’t speak in favour of staring down at you, his jaw clenching.

it hurts to look at him, you decide, and you tear your eyes from his face to glance at the unnecessary pile of brooms that are stacked in one corner of the very small room. he’s standing so close that you can feel his breath fanning across the side of your face, the sensation one that you’re familiar with. the corners of your eyes sting, and after a few moments of tense silence, your hand blindly searches for the door handle behind you.

‘well, if that’s all—’

you pull on the handle, and the door inches open by a few centimetres, before his palm slaps down onto the wood, slamming it shut again. the noise makes you jump, eyes wide as your head turns to meet his glare.

‘’s’that it, then?’ he hisses down at you, neck bending to lean closer. ‘you just gonna keep runnin’ from me?’

‘i’ve got class,’ you deadpan, head thumping back against the door. as if to prove your point, the next bell tolls, signalling the start of the next hour.

‘don’t give a shit,’ he spits, eyes narrowed down at you.

‘well i do,’ you retort, yanking on the handle so harshly that he has no choice but to step back when you elbow him out of your way. his hand grabs at your bicep, but the back of your hand slaps him away, irritation making your cheeks burn. ‘don’t touch me.’

he retracts his hand, but he’s staring down at you, hard. then, his façade crumbles, and you baulk when his expression falls, fingers shaking as he drags them through his messy hair.

‘look,’ he says, voice thick with exhaustion as he looks down at you with as equally tired eyes. ‘just… come over? today?’

‘it’s not wednesday,’ you remind him.

he frowns down at you, ‘i know.’

‘it’s monday,’ you reiterate, looking at him pointedly.

‘i know,’ he stresses, uncharacteristically exasperated. ‘i’ll be free after six.’

he looks weary—an expression that you’re not accustomed to seeing on him—and you can already feel your body begin to deflate with defeat. your lips part, but your answer is cut off by the second warning bell.

‘i have to go,’ you sigh, tiredly. you tug the door open and after checking that the coast is clear, you step out into the hall, glancing at him from over your shoulder. he simply stands there, watching, dark brows pinching to the middle of his forehead.

that is the last you see of him before the door swings shut behind you.

๑

after changing your mind several times throughout the day, it is well past six pm when you arrive outside toji’s quarters.

outside, the sun is beginning to set, casting an orange glow across the carpeted floor through the window in the hallway. you haven’t knocked on the door yet, despite having arrived some minutes ago, your eyelids heavy as you stare at the grain in the wood.

you don’t know what you’re doing here.

there’s a niggle of hope that can’t help but grow with each second that passes as you loiter by the door. you try to quash it down, because, really, what are the chances of this conversation going in the direction that you want it to? you have higher chances of him having called you over to formally end things for good.

that thought makes your heart hurt.

but, before you can hesitate any longer, there’s the clicking of the door unlocking before it swings open.

as usual, he towers over you.

there’s a tense moment where the both of you simply stare at one another, but the moment breaks when he shifts to the side, creating enough room for you to slip past him. inside, you’re greeted by the familiarity of his apartment, the heating turned up to the exact temperature that you like. you kick your shoes off and place them next to the shoe rack, stepping further inside as you listen to him lock the door behind you. he steps past you, leading the way toward the lounge, and you follow, only to loiter by the doorway, watching him drop his weight onto the settee.

you’ve never seen him look so haggard before, and worry gnaws at you when a pair of forest green eyes blink to meet yours.

‘you gonna stand there all night?’ he asks, already beckoning you over with a tap of his fingers on the seat next to him. you reluctantly make your way over, sitting with your back pressed to the opposite arm of the settee so that you can face him.

‘so?’

he frowns at you, repeating, ‘so?’

‘what’d you ask me over for?’

his eyes flash with something you can’t decipher, and then he’s running a hand through his hair again, tugging the ends between his fingers. ‘look, i meant what i said the other night; it wasn’t what it looked like.’ when you don’t offer a response, he continues, ‘she’s a family friend, i’ve not seen her for a long time—for years.’ at this revelation, you start to feel a tad silly for your reaction, but there’s also a part of you that nags that he’s not telling you the whole truth. and as if he can read your thoughts, he adds, ‘we had… a thing… when we were young—very young—but that shit is long over. we’re friends, nothin’ more.’

you chew at the inside of your cheek as you mull his words over. eventually, you settle on scoffing, nose curling as you reply, ‘dunno what you’re telling me for. what you do is none of my business.’

at this, his spine straightens, and the look in his eyes hardens, ‘what’s that s’posed to mean?’

a large of you is hopeful that what he’s told you is the truth, but another part of you is still bitter about the situation. ‘it means that i don’t know why you told me to come over just to talk about this shit—’

‘’cause you’re pissed at me?’ he interrupts, looking more and more perplexed by your words. ‘i’ve been tryna call you for days, but you don’t pick up. you wouldn’t even look at me in class, ‘n’ then you tried to fuckin’ hide like i wouldn’t notice.’ he looks more upset than you’d anticipated. ‘i didn’t want to send you off like that, but—’

‘but what?’ it’s you who interrupts him this time, anger boiling at your blood. ‘but it’s okay because i’m just some dirty little secret of yours?’

‘is that what you’re pissed at?’

he looks even more weary than he had five minutes ago.

‘look, it’s not easy for me either, alright? you think i want to keep sneakin’ ’round like some fuckin’ teenager? ‘m too old to be stressin’ over this shit. i don’t want—’

‘this shit?’ you snap, his words cutting deeper than you thought they would. ‘is that all i am? just some shit?’

‘what? you know that’s not what i meant—’

you scoff. ‘of course you didn’t.’

he snaps back at you, ‘will you just fuckin’ let me explain?’

‘really, it’s fine,’ despite your words, you feel the tell-tale prickle of tears burning the corners of your eyes. ‘it was just sex, anyway, right?’

he recoils, flinching as if you’ve just slapped him.

‘what.’

it’s not a question. the word is said so quietly that you barely hear it, tone so flat that you think that you’ve actually offended him.

‘is that…?’ he clears his throat, nostrils flaring as he inhales a deep breath. ‘is that what this is to you? just sex?’

he has the gall to look pained, and you almost fall for it.

almost.

you stand from the settee, his eyes following your every movement. ‘that was what you told me, remember? those words literally came out of your mouth.’

he mimics you, standing up to his full height, eyes glowering down at you. ‘that was two years ago! of course it was just sex—i barely fuckin’ knew you!’

‘well, it’s not like anything’s changed!’ you raise your voice back at him, eyes wet. ‘it’s always me crawling to you. it’s always me sneaking around. it’s always me who is never enough!’ your voice breaks around a sob, your head lowering as you furiously wipe at your tears.

‘don’t—’ he starts, voice suddenly hoarse. ‘don’t cry.’ he reaches for you, and despite yourself, you collapse against his chest, your cries muffled into the fabric of his shirt. his scent envelopes you, and the heat of him makes your head spin, and yet, you cling to him when his fingers bury into the tresses of your hair. his lips are at your temple when he murmurs, ‘everythin’s changed.’

you stiffen, but he holds tight when you try to pull yourself free.

‘’s’been a long time since i was with someone. last time was when my boy was born, ‘n’ he’s ‘bout your age now.’ you hear him inhale sharply, nose pressed to your hair. his voice muffled, he continues, ‘then i saw you, an’ i thought you were real fuckin’ pretty. was pissed as hell when i found out you were one of my students.’ his arms tighten around you, ‘then, when you fuckin’ jumped me in the hallway, i thought my old ass was dreamin’.’

‘not old,’ you mumble into his chest, which, in response, vibrates with a low chuckle that echoes down your ear.

‘older,’ he corrects, mirth lacing his tone. he then exhales, ‘it was just sex. ‘cause it was the only way i could think to keep you interested.’ you remain quiet, teeth biting into your bottom lip. ‘but d’ya really think i’d be lettin’ us risk everythin’ for this long if that’s all i really wanted? if you weren’t worth every second of it?’

you don’t know how to answer that.

he sighs, his breath fanning across the top of your head. for a long moment, you remain enveloped in his arms, and then, in the tiniest voice you’ve ever heard him muster, he admits, ‘really fuckin’ love you, idiot.’

your heart is jackhammering away in the depth of your chest, and for a second, you dread that you’ve misheard him. but then you feel the thump, thump, thump of his own heart racing underneath your ear, and he’s yet to let you free from his embrace. your arms, previously pressed to his chest, move to slowly curl around his waist, holding him just as tightly as he’s got you.

‘love you too.’

the words are whispered into the collar of his shirt, but he clearly hears you because his fingers are now guiding your chin to angle your face toward his. his nose bumps along yours, lips pressing to the corner of your mouth. you chase him, moulding your lips together, his tongue making quick work of caressing its way into your mouth. he groans, and then his kisses are fever-like, and he’s tasting every inch of your mouth as if he hasn’t done so a hundred times before.

you’re kissing him just as eagerly, your hands snaking under his shirt just to feel his skin. he guides you backwards, edging you to the direction of the bedroom, and you allow him to do so with your tongue curling up the length of his. he pants into your mouth, hands leaving your body to fumble with the door handle. he kicks the door open, then shut again after you enter the room, and he pushes at your shoulders until you’re lying on the plush mattress of his bed. you peer up at him, watching as he crawls over you, his hair tickling your forehead when he leans to claim your mouth once again.

in between kisses, you both slowly work your way through removing each other’s clothes and when naked, he finally presses in on top of you, pinning you beneath him. there’s a clear size difference between the two of you, and you like just how much bigger he is, your fingers tracing over the curves of his biceps as he shifts above you. the length of his cock drags between your folds, the blunt tip catching on your clit at just the right angle, and you whimper for him. he responds with a low rumble that makes his chest vibrate against where it is pressed to yours, his teeth gently scraping along where he’s mouthing at your pulse. your fingers tangle between the strands of his hair, and you welcome his hot breath fluttering across the surface of your neck, eyes closing and lips parting around the shape of another moan.

he moves, hips bumping into yours, and your breath catches as his cock drags with a delicious friction that coaxes his name from between your lips. he repeats the action at the same time his teeth nip at your collarbone, tongue darting out to soothe the sharp pain that erupts, leaving a mark on your skin. you encourage the grinding by curling your legs up and around his waist, your ankles locking tight. the action pushes him closer, and your clit throbs along with your pulse each time it is abused by his bulbous tip which has swollen to a size that is more than impressive. initially, the width of him had been more than daunting, and it had taken a little getting used to the feeling of it stretching you wide, but by now, you’ve taken him more times than you can count, and your hole has learned to flutter at the promise of being filled soon.

and fill you, he does.

you’re not at all prepared for when he angles his hips and aims a tad lower, but he’s soon drilling into you, your cunt quickly moulding into the shape of him. your walls burn with the stretch, but each thrust punches a choked moan from the back of your throat, causing your fingertips to make their home in the sharp lines of his shoulders. you feel his nose nudging its way up to the shell of your ear, a smile curving the shape of his mouth when he moans, ‘feel so fuckin’ good f’me, pretty girl.’

the praise encourages the clenching of your walls, vice-like grip greedily forcing his cock further inside with each forward cant of his hips. he grunts with effort, pelvis snapping backward and forwards so quickly that you can hear the continuous creaking of the bed-frame as he has his way for you. his fingers buried in the tresses of your hair, he angles his mouth to yours once more, his tongue merging with yours in a messy battle that makes your clit throb, throb, throb for him.

‘fuckin’—fuck,’ he groans loudly, before he’s jerking his cock away from the safe cavern of your heat, a weak moan of protest escaping you before it dies on the tip of your tongue when his hands grab at you and easily lift you from the mattress. ‘’gainst the wall, pretty,’ he orders, guiding you until your palms are pressed flat to the wall, his stomach warm on your back as he traps you against the head of the bed.

once more, his cock is enveloped by your heat, and he quickly sets a pace that makes you dizzy with need. nuzzling into the curve of your neck, he sucks a fresh mark, and subconsciously, your walls flutter around him again. sweat is quickly forming on the surface of your skin, but it doesn’t stop you from snaking a hand between your legs, fingers quickly circling your forgotten clit.

‘hng, fuck, baby, that’s it,’ he groans, pelvis clapping against yours. ‘touch yourself f’me—yes, just like that.’ he sucks in a hiss, the noise morphing into a growl, his balls slapping tight onto your folds as he roughly pistons into you. your gooey walls welcome the assault, your slick suctioning him back inside each time his length retreats from your pussy.

‘h-a—ah!’ you cry out, toes curling when your first orgasm hits you so suddenly that even he chokes out a surprised chuckle, lips pressed to the back of your neck. you can’t help the slacking of your jaw as his name is loudly expelled from your mouth, your fingers reaching up to pull at his hair. the throbbing of your walls has him gripping your hips so tight that you’re certain to wake with bruises tomorrow, but he continues to fuck you through it, prolonging the tingling that pounds at your clit. arousal drips, creaming a white foam around the base of his cock, and soon, the wet sound of your connection can be heard loud and clear, which, in turn, encourages his cock to twitch inside you. it takes a short while for you to recover, and through every second of it, his girth continues to stretch you in the best possible way.

‘t-toji,’ you gasp, his lips pressed to your temple. a particularly harsh thrust almost has you toppling over and you desperately cling to the headboard in order to steady your balance. ‘toji, i—’

‘love you.’

he beats you to it, the words gruffly echoed down the canal of your ear and settling deep in the centre of your chest, where it spreads warmth across the entirety of your body. you can’t help it—a tear slips from the corner of your eye, and he’s quick to kiss it away.

‘should’ve—hng, shit, baby—should’ve… should’ve told you b’fore.’

yes, he should have, but you don’t voice this opinion aloud, as you’re now distracted by the fact that he’s now manhandling you into another position.

his back pressed to the headboard, you’re now straddling his lap, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix when you accidentally slide down a little too far. you jerk up again, and he moans quietly, neck stretching slightly as the back of his head rests on the headboard. through heavily lidded eyes, he watches you bend and bow above him, the greens of his eyes now glittering emeralds at you. outside, the setting sun dances a golden glow across his face and down his neck and it warms the emeralds until they are molten. his full lips are parted, low groans of encouragement panted through them as he allows you to take what you need from him. there are minuscule lines that are gently etched into the corners of his eyes, probably caused by lack of sleep. your thumbs reach out to stroke over the curves of his cheeks, and your lips form a soft smile when he presses his face into the palms of your hands. your hips stilling in favour of focusing on your index finger that is currently tracing his bottom lip, his eyelids dropping further when he kisses the pad of your finger. you know that he’d only scrunch his nose in disagreement if you’d ever voice it aloud, but like this, he looks beautiful. you grin at him, leaning to brush your nose against his, your lips ghosting over the scar on the corner of his mouth. it’s rare for you to show your appreciation for the old wound, but it makes his breath hitch every time that you do, and you wait to hear the sound before your lips press to his.

slowly, you roll your hips, and he responds by moaning into the cavern of your mouth.

It isn’t long before your thighs begin to shake with exertion, and his hands clutch to your ass, helping you along as he guides you to slide your pussy up the length of his girth, before dropping you back down with a wet squelch that makes your ears burn. your slick coats him, pooling into the tangle of pubic hair that is nestled between his legs. your clit rubs at the texture of it, and with each roll of your pelvis, it brings you closer and closer to your second orgasm.

all too soon, your thighs are shaking, and your nails scratch into the skin of his abdominal muscles, which tense beneath you. he huffs a laugh at you, but before you reach your peak, he pulls you from him, gravity dropping the heavy weight of his cock to thump onto his abdomen as you cry out from the loss. he shushes you with a short kiss, before shifting the two of you into the spooning position.

for the second time tonight, his chest is pressed flush to your back, and his arms wrap tight around you, his long frame tucking in behind you, and his fingers stretch to tangle with yours. this time, he fucks into you slowly, and with his head lowered to yours, he kisses the back of your neck. the silence is tender, and he’s twitching more often now, and you suspect that he’s just as ready to fill you with his cum as you are to receive it. and just a few more thrusts drive you both to the completion that you seek.

his whole body coils tight before it shudders, a long, drawn out sigh of your name whispered into your hair. the familiar gush of his seed claims your inner walls as his own, and your weak mewl of his own name as you come undone has him thrusting one last time before he stills.

it takes a long time for your body to settle afterwards, your skin clammy and your eyelids drooping so low that you feel as if you’re going to fall asleep.

fingers are brushed through your hair, a kiss warming the back of your ear, and then all of a sudden, a stream of thick, white liquid oozes all over your thigh as his cock unplugs itself from its home inside your cunt.

you are already dozing when his weight shifts from the bed, only to return to press a damp flannel between your legs. the rough material catches on your stimulated clit, and you protest weakly, despite the fact that your eyes refuse to open. this routine isn’t one that you’re a stranger to, and so when he kisses the crook of your knee, you laugh tiredly, but lack the energy to tell him that it tickles. your brain is foggy, just teetering on the edge of sleep, when you mumble your affections very quietly. the three words still somehow reach his ears, even though your voice is muffled because your cheek is smushed into the pillow. a breath is kissed to the inside of your wrist, long, strong fingers making their home between yours.

you don’t hear his response.

when you wake later, it is after dark.

there’s a familiar weight at your back, and you’re pleased to realise that at some point whilst you were asleep, he’s tugged the covers up and over you. for a while, you lay there, listening to the sound of him breathing, before you decide that it’s probably well after the time of which you should be making your way back to your dorm. however, when you make to sneak from the bed, the weight of his arm around your middle tightens.

‘where you goin’?’

his voice is several octaves deeper than usual, tone groggily thickened with sleep.

‘stay.’

you feel just as tired as he sounds, but you know that you have to leave. this part is always the hardest, and it usually leaves you feeling a little sick each time. but today, it hurts just that bit more than usual, and you really don’t want to leave. it doesn’t help that he’s also not aiding the situation as he cages you underneath his arm.

‘i have to go,’ you croak, your own voice heavily laced with exhaustion. ‘have class in the morning.’

‘i’ll sort it,’ he promises, nudging his head closer to yours. his fingers search for yours in the dark, trapping them between his own again.

‘toji, i—’

your protest is interrupted when his chest heaves with a very dramatic sigh that puffs across the back of your head. ‘said i’ll sort it. promise.’

you hesitate. you’ve never been risky enough to stay the night, having always been gone long before the sun starts to rise. but he’s relaxed, unworried, and despite your worries, you trust him. as if sensing your apprehension, he tightens his embrace, enveloping your frame with the heat and scent of him. your eyes blink shut, and you’re so tired that you’re almost falling asleep again. he murmurs your name into the dark.

‘stay,’ he breathes.

and so, you do.

#♡ jordy is writing ♡#jjk x reader #toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #toji x reader smut #fushiguro toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader

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melodrama-ticcc · 7 months

Text

— “ 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 ” ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧

𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩.

𝘈 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫. 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧.

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ⁱ.ᵉ. ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ, ᶠⁱʳᵉᵃʳᵐˢ, ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ᵍʳᵃᵖʰⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ, ᵐᵃⁿⁱᵖᵘˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ⁱˡˡⁿᵉˢˢ, ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ, ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ.

—

Now, Rebecca Payne had never been an easily frightened woman. But such a daunt image had been enough to make her grip the handle of that axe just a little tighter.

He stared at her curiously, and she stared back just as much. Both a bit unsure and timid at what to do next. The man raises his chainsaw, pulling the starter cord one, two, three times before it roars into life. It’s motor racing as he revs the engine once, twice, thrice.

“Aye! You foolin’ with me? Get lost!”

He just stands there, head tilting in wholesome inquisitiveness. But she only stands her ground, taking a defensive position as she slings the axe over her shoulder.

“Tell me just what it is the hell you want, ‘fore I grab the shotgun and pop two bullets in ya’ head-” before she can finish, he’s running towards her. His steps are short and small but he moves quickly, the chainsaw over his head as he prances over like a child. Fuck. She’s running towards the front door, slamming it shut and locking the deadbolt before she grabs the shot gun from the wall it sits upon. “Daddy! Daddy get in here!” Her call falls on deaf ears, but she’s drawing back the ivory lace that covers the door light, looking cautiously out to see the man with a chainsaw slicing in twos the logs she’d been hacking at. Her brows raise and she lowers her head. “The fuck is he gettin’ at?” The question is rhetorical, meant for her and her alone. She finds it in her to flip the deadbolt on the door backwards and swing it open, shotgun-clad as she steps out onto the porch. Her heart is racing, pumping her bloodstream full of adrenaline and panic. A delectable rush that fuels both her temper and confrontational resolve. Her blue eyes are locked on the man, voice raising as she points the barrel of the gun at him. “The fuck is you doin’ huh? You talk?”

“T-that’s Bubba, he ain’t talk v’much.” Another man’s voice comes from the foot of the porch, and in an instant shes got the barrel pointed there, meeting the gaze of a man who looks much like the transients her mother used to bring home. A man with long unruly hair and missing teeth. Skin and bones, he looks absent of any muscle or strength, and his nervous speech only indicates to her he’s a coward with no interest in catching a fight. But her wariness remains, eyes staring down the sights of the rifle as she raises it a bit, as if to gesture at him.

“Y’all with my daddy? He send ya’? He ain’t tell me we was expectin’ visitors, the hell ya’ll doin’ on my property?” The girl’s quick to anger, fire in those impassioned eyes that is sure to burn through their aimless facade.

“Wow now mmm miss, we ain’t want no trouble. We’s just Sawyer boys, neighbors of ya’s.” The man smiles, raising his hands out of fear before pointing to the man with a chainsaw who continues to cut up the wood. He’s oblivious, all most as though he’s not quite there. Probably not the most intelligent one, she reckoned. “That there’s Bubba, I’m N-Nubbins, we’s brothers. Thought we’d come say hello, you been takin’ down m’mah traps and tossin’ ‘em out. Wantin’ t’t ask ya’ bout that.” He shrugs, lowering his raised arms. “Bubba’s heard you been c-cuttin’ wood, thought he c-could help with that there chainsaw of ‘is.”

“Get me that damn old man of ya’lls, I ain’t gonna take too kindly to this type of nonsense any longer.” Becca spits, her voice spiteful as she looks to him. “Go on, get! Go fetch ‘em!”

“Ah, well grandpa don’t really get out all that mu-much.”

“I ain’t talkin’ bout ya’ damn grandfather, the other one. Get me that Drayton!”

“Ah right ah right, we’s be on our way. Bubba!” The man ceases his chainsaw, looking to Nubbins with a frightened expression. “Go on ‘n fetch ya’ brother! She ain’t want ya’ damn help!”

She watches as he cuts the engine on his chainsaw, and the two make their way up the drive and disappear into the foliage that lines the main road. She heaves a heavy sigh, dropping the shot gun to her side as she shakes her head. “Loonies, the lot of ‘em.”

The sentiment the Sawyer family instilled in Rebecca was not a great one, and given the nature of all things examined she felt something wasn’t quite right. It raised questions and concerns she knew not the answers to, and she was sure one more thing would drive her over the edge. She’d go mad over their doltish charades and bovine attitudes.

Those boys never did come back with that Drayton fella, so she was certain she’d make a trip down there the following day to give him a piece of her mind. For one more obtusity and she’d hack the next Sawyer she saw walking up that dirt road to her porch into roadkill.

The following day she’d taken it upon herself to toy with the blown radiator in the truck, a task that proved to be more difficult that she’d initially intended. Sealing the crack in the radiator itself had been a quick fix, but fixing both the faulty temperature gauge and the disruptive cooling system that had caused the truck to overheat in the first place was an entirely separate task in and of itself. That said, she’d do anything to help her father.

Working from the tranquil early morning to the hot hours of the afternoon, she’d been covered in sweat and grime from head to toe, black slick smeared into the sweat on her skin and over her jeans. Once luminous bangs stuck to the wet of her forehead as she winced in the brightness of the sun. Her right arm halfway down the underside of the hood, she attempts to fidget with the bolts on the old water pump system. With no avail, she pulls her arm from the engine holding the wrench, only to find it covered in oil and muck. She groans, partly out of annoyance and partly out of irritability over that blazing Midwest sun. She wipes the sludge over her clothed thigh, kicking the chrome spotted bumper as she grips the wrench.

“Piece ‘a shit rust bucket.” It’s mumbled under her breath, before she’s back to working at undoing the nuts and bolts. She had to of been too focused on the task, for she hadn’t heard the sound of booted footsteps headed from down the drive.

“Didn’t take you ‘s the type to work on cars, figured you wouldn’t be too keen on gettin’ that face of ya’s dirty or ruinin’ ya’ hair.”

The words ring through her brain like an estranged echo, both haunting and infuriating. For it was abundantly clear to her the mouth of whom it had come from, and equally as maddening. She has to bite her tongue before she speaks, not before whipping her head in the direction of the driveway. Plainly, her assumption was confirmed by Johnny’s wonted silhouette taking inadvertent strides.

She pulls her arm from the inside of the hood once more, wiping away the grease on her trousers. Her fervid eyes peer in his vicinity, spectating him cautiously. She recalls telling him not to come there, but it’s his backhanded comment that really gets her going. It was just like him, to assume she couldn’t handle a man’s work. At least, that’s how he’d put it.

Rebecca finds him pestilent. For anything he did or said would crawl beneath the skin and hackle her. She never liked what he insinuated and found his attractiveness frustrating in combination with his detestable personality. Him simply showing up was enough to peeve her, his remarks only put the nail in the coffin. Even now, he’d opened his mouth only once and she found herself oscillating between ataraxy and a lost temper.

“‘S all you do run that ugly mouth of your’s?” She quips, leaning against the front of the truck as she observes him. Her eyes looking him up and down condescendingly.

Good Lord above, she abhors him. From his slicked back hair to his cunning grin.

“Should think twice ‘bout wiping them dirty hands on ya’ nice clothes, wouldn’t wanna upset daddy now, would we? That ain’t v’ry womanly of ya’.”

That was all it took. That comment had been the single most bothersome component. The thing that would cease her teetering and push her over the edge. One moment she’s assembling her composure and the next sending that wrench of her’s launching toward Johnny’s pointlessly handsome face. It narrowly misses, thanks to his quick response and the swift dodge of his head.

The usual gleam in his eye changes all at once, and she can tell he’s goaded. The way his brows warp into a scowl and how his signature shit-eating grin had vanished from his face. He doesn’t say anything, just watches her, stalking her. Staring with such reprisal intent.

It’s different than all the times he’d observed her before. His once cynical gaze turned into something much more sinister, bordering malicious.

Rebecca’s countenance mirrors his own though, a menacing lour with an acute sense of vindictiveness. Her hands clutch into fists at her sides, body shaking the same way it always had when on the brink of becoming manic, the same way she had when her mother had been killed. As though she could just snap, her equanimity fracturing at the hand of an immature womanizer. It’s that same feeling, the vacancy of control. The lost footing on her ideal little world. It was despicable how something so trivial would cause such an unprincipled response. And it was all his fault. If only he’d keep his qualms to himself, she’d of kept her temper and wouldn’t have lost oversight of the big picture. It only strengthens the feeling of animosity she holds for him, arrogant and misogynistic, what a catch.

The way they stand there, waiting for the other to make the first move. It’s as though they each know something isn’t right with the other, and now it’s a game of chicken. Who caves first, who will be the one to show their true colors.

“Oh girl, you’ve really done it now.”

He’s walking toward her with a purpose, a requital objective. She can tell it. He strides over to her, grasping her wrist and pulling her towards him. As if he’s going to do something to her, harm her in some way. Slap her? Maybe. But she’d rather die before she let him get away with something of the sort.

“Get ya’ slimy hands off me you no-good hick! The fuck you think you doin’?” She yells at him, disbelief laced in between the anger in her words. Without a second thought, she sends her fist hurling towards his nose, and it lands with a cacophonous crack!

Johnny groans, stumbling back as both his hands move to clasp over his aching nose. Red spills down over his thin lips and dribbles off of his chin.

“You fuckin’ cunt.” The sharpness of his words is muffled under his hands, nasally on account of his injury. “You’ll regret that.”

“No. You’ll regret ever haulin’ ya’ ass over here to say some stupid shit like that. Let that be a lesson to keep that big mouth of ya’s shut.” Rebecca asserts back, slamming the hood of the car shut and moving up towards the porch. “Oh, and Johnny boy!” She hollers, turning to him when she reaches the door. “I catch ya’ starin’ at me one more damn time it’ll be the blade of my axe next time, I can promise ya’ that.”

“You really love playin’ hard to get don’cha? Ha.” He laughs, looking like a lunatic when he steps to the foot of the porch. Crimson stains the lower half of his face and there’s a deranged look in his eyes. “You’ll find I can be quite a pain in your ass when I ain’t get what I set out to.”

“Johnny Sawyer you ain’t nothin’ but a spoiled momma’s boy who don’t know how to handle bein’ put in his place. Think every girl should swoon over you helplessly. Well you’ll find I ain’t like little boys who think so highly of themselves. You ain’t nothin’ but trouble, a lowdown cheap little punk.”

“You one to talk,” he laughs hysterically, moving up a step as he grasps onto the wood railing. “I see the crazy in you, I know what it looks like.” He moves up another step, and Rebecca shifts to grab the axe leant up against the porch and raises it over her head.

“Get ya’ ass off my property or I’ll fulfill that promise I gave’s ya’ at the swimmin’ hole, go on ‘n get!” She hates that he’d go as far to say such a thing, alluding to some reprehensible idea. She’d continue to tell herself nothing had been wrong with her. That she was the perfect young lady of her perfect little life. She had to be; it was the only thing she’d desired. The only thing she strived for. Imperfection, the very concept of lost control, it would simply break her. Sure, his comments did away with her temperament. But it had been when her irascibility betrayed her and he was able to get her to fuck up, that was when everything would go to shit.

“You’re afraid I’m right!” Johnny’s grinning, approaching the top stair with the aim to confront her. “You know more than anybody else summin’ ain’t right in there, but you’s scared to admit it. Well I see right through that stupid little act you put on for erry’ body else. You can fool ‘em but you ain’t fool me girl!”

“Get away!” She’s screaming, and at this rate she feels her impassivity fleeting. Her eyes wide and frenetic, they well with tears. She can feel her mask of sanity slipping once more, a cruel reminder that’s he’s done it once again. She shakes violently as she swings the axe in front of her. Johnny moves back, his howling cackle filling the air as she shakes her head. “You ain’t know what ya’ talkin’ bout!” She swings again, this time the blade just short of his torso. Turbulent groans of frustration and madness encompass her, and she begins swinging without regard, no longer just a means of self-defense. It’s a demented feeling of shame and anger. The feeling of propensity vanishing in an instant and with it the floods of bloodlust and vengeance.

“Ah, there it is ‘gain.” Johnny laughs, stepping back off the porch. “Deny it all you want doll face, but take a good hard look at’cha self before tellin’ me otherwise.” He turns away, moving to head down the drive. He smacks the hood of the car twice before he departs, “I’ll come by to help you with this later,” he nods “looked like you was havin’ trouble.”

She doesn’t say a thing. The only sound emitted from her the pitiful noise of disoriented sobbing and grunts of exasperation. Rebecca isn’t thinking, not when she grits her teeth and acts swiftly to retrieve the shot gun sitting in the foyer of the house. From the entryway, she kicks the door open and shakily aims at Johnny’s moving body. She isn’t exactly trying to hit him, more hellbent on giving him a good scare, at least that had been what she told herself.

More and more, she wants his head as trophy on her vanity. Something to mock and pride herself over. It becomes clearer that she doesn’t want to kill him with the shotgun, rather, she wants it to debilitate him enough so that she may cleave at his body with the axe. She wants to see him cry, see the pain in his eyes as she cuts through flesh and bone. She’d make him suffer in agony as she tore his arms and legs from his body, make him endure the humiliation of removing his clothes and castrating him. Then, she’d chop away at his stomach so that the guts would spill from it in some god-awful way, just enough so that he hadn’t yet died. Just so that he could watch her as she lobbed his head off his own body. She’d like to see him so helpless and desolate, would love to dominate and exploit him in such a vulgar display. She’d love to exude such unbridled control over him. The very thought of it, the image engrained into her brain, it excites her. That rush of pleasure surging through her, the sweet edge of release. The act of such power is enticing.

The nose of the gun falls and rises with her tremoring body. She wraps a finger around the trigger haphazardly, watching as his unaffected self walks up the drive. It only antagonizes her further, causing her grip to tighten on the trigger and waver between pulling it and letting go. An incoherent scream befalls her lips as she loses the battle of self-restraint, pulling back the trigger as the gun fires with a thundering boom!

Without missing a beat, he begins running. The buckshot falls just short of him, hitting the dirt and kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. The strident noise echoing through the land and up into the air. She isn’t thinking of consequences though, only how much she’d like to see Johnny Sawyer suffer. So she fires another shot, a deafening ring in her ears growing. Of course it misses, the dust flying up again as the pellets collide with the earth. Flustered, she pumps the shot gun again before adjusting her aim.

She rapidly fires the remaining four shots, each between her own choked screams and cries of torment. The knock back thrashes her shoulder a bit, but she clutches the rifle and steadies her place as best she can. The ringing in her ears beginning to subside as she watches Johnny turn around at the end of the driveway to say something.

“Rebecca Payne you one crazy bitch. Keep on actin’ like that and I might just fall in love with ya’!” He shouts out, and it causes her to pause. Long enough for him to disappear up the drive.

With a fervent yell she drops the firearm to the floor, grasping at the skin on her face and then the hair on her head. She pulls it, only to release it a moments later and stagger down the hall. Regrettably, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Something that causes her to step back and view herself fully.

The image unsettles her. She is anything but her usual becoming self. Pretty sapphire eyes barmy and bloodshot, wide with derangement. The soot from a day’s work coats her once flawless complexion, smeared about like some hoodlum on the streets. The salt from her tears dries up to leave streaks of black mascara. Wetness still pooling as they fall from her bottom lashes. They’re surrounded by smeared makeup, looking like a diseased raccoon. Her blonde hair once curled and done up so neatly had been astray in every which way. Messy and tangled, unruly like a lion’s unkept mane. Her figure twitches and quivers with unending rage and vigor. She hates herself. Loathes the woman who stares back at her in such a profound manner. It’s difficult for her to accept that the reflection staring back was indeed herself. It maddened her. She looks barbaric, she thinks. Primitive, like a loutish animal.

Rebecca tramps closer to the mirror, brushing her fingers over the face of the reflection. Dirty fingers leave black smudges against the pristine glass. Her expression softens, but just as quick as it does the scowl reappears on her face. She cannot stand to look at it any longer, cursed by the wretched woman who stares back at her. She feels she must destroy it, move on as though it never existed.

“I meant to do it!” She screams.

In a fit of rage, her wrath beckons her. She hurls her fist (the same one that had landed a punch on Johnny) towards the mirror. There sound of bone crushing and grinding against fragile glass is drowned by the clemency of her thoughts.

“I meant to do it!”

Though, the glass does not shatter. It only cracks, dense at the point of impact and gradually expanding from the center. It lands right where the reflection of her face had been, and it irks her how she can still see it staring back at her. This time in the mirror of dozens of tiny pieces of glass.

Irate, Rebecca draws her fist back and strikes the glass again. This time with much more zeal and strength. The loud crack! fills her ears, as does the sound of glass tumbling down into thousands of tiny shards against the wood planks below. Then the sound of footsteps, to which she stammers back. Paltry shards of glass find themselves stuck in the skin of her knuckles, tearing into the flesh and causing a bleed. She’s numbed to the pain, detached from the feeling of physical touch. She’s suddenly calm. Despite the heavy sounds of hitched breaths as she hyperventilates. She has found a state of Zen. At peace with the tampered image and ready to move on, it was no longer a thought to her. She was perfect.

“I did it on purpose.”

Silent tears drip down her cheeks in an unusual fashion. Her body is twitching and quivering in a profound state. Yet, she cannot help but feel as though she is well again. Even as Raymond steps into view of the doorway from the porch. Her sunken eyes move to meet his gaze, a sullen exhibit on her features as he demonstrates an arrange of emotion; anger, concern, suspicion.

“Becca the hell is goin’ on with ya’? One minute I’m out workin’ in the field and the next I hears gunshots. The hell is all this?” He gestures to mess, treading towards her in a cautious way.

“Mountain lion,” her voice is as quiet as a church mouse. “I was workin’ on the truck and it came outta no where,” between ragged breaths she speaks in monotone, putting together a falsified story to shield herself from his disappointment. “I ain’t know we had those in these parts.” She stares at him blankly, as if her eyes were void of any sort of emotion. As though she’d become entirely numb. “Started chargin’ for me ‘n scared the heck outta me. I-I got startled and stumbled into the hall, few gunshots scared it off, though.”

He’d like to believe her, she was his daughter after all.

Raymond had been in denial for quite some time. He’d seen the signs, glimpses of trouble sandwiched between her charming persona and winsome beauty. He never lived in fear of it, only denial. A part of him even felt responsible for it. Perhaps that had been why he lived in blissful ignorance of the fact. Regardless the reason, he chose to take the simpler route. Ignoring the obvious conflict within his sweet baby girl and guiding her down the right path. He was sure he could train the devil out of her.

Since the death of Maggie, Rebecca had grown into a fine young woman. She’d taken care of him in a way his deceased wife never had, and a part of him figured he’d not be able to live without her. The other wanted her to find a man of her own to wed and take care of. Maybe that had been what she needed to quell the violence within her. But then, he’d miss the companionship of having such a woman.

Rebecca was so dedicated to her role as the woman of the house. Doting and indulgent, she worked diligently to ensure nothing had been out of place. She’d clean each and every nook and cranny of the home, cook his favorites, work in the garden or cattle fields, run his baths, administer his medication, cater to his every need, all while maintaining a flawless appearance. She was the homemaker, and she was so eager to please.

For whatever reason Raymond decided to oblige her story, indicated by the steady nod of his head. “Al’right baby girl.” He coos soothingly, pulling her into an embrace as he rubs the back of her head. He isn’t stupid, he’s quick to notice the glass lodged in her bleeding knuckles. Something that raises his suspicion further, yet another detail he chooses to forget. “You did good kid.” He plants a comforting kiss atop her scalp, his hold gentle and soft. Tender, it feels like basking in the serenity of the warm sun. It relaxes her, eases her tension.

In order to busy her distressed state, Rebecca spent the following morning cleaning the house’s interior. By noon, her peaceful endeavors landed her in the kitchen. It wasn’t until she began to empty out the refrigerator that she found the old, greasy paper bag nestled in the back of the thing. It smells something awful, a rancid tang infused with the fetid scent of decay. She untwists the top of the bag, crinkling open it’s edge to release the putrid smell. She has to hold her breath, holding open the thing as she peers into it.

Weeks ago, the day after they’d moved in, the Sawyers introduced themselves and joined Rebecca and her father for supper. That had been the day that her aversion to Johnny had begun. Preoccupied by the ongoing drama that ensued, she must’ve forgotten about the barbecue Drayton Sawyer gifted them, as it sat rotting in the back of the ice box all that time. The sauce-coated meat is half eaten by the maggots that dance over it’s surface. It looks bloody and sickening, prompting the gag that comes from the back of her throat.

Shaky hands grip tightly the countertop, arms struggling to find stability as she props herself up. That repugnant feeling comes fleeting back all at once, sending her into a hysterical state of panic and mania. She has to hold herself back, the mistake haunting her all too easily. How could she have not remembered? To eat it, or at least throw it in the bin.

It’s a frivolous matter, but the simplicity of her mistake is in direct violation of her own standards. The error shatters her security and her plastic world once again comes tumbling down. The ground beneath her shakes and she cannot seem to sort through her messy thoughts, dizzy with the cognitions of lament and retribution. She struggles to pinpoint the ideal reasoning behind the instance; had she done it on purpose or was it all Johnny’s fault for distracting her.

The weight of each possibility is what makes the decision difficult. She could easily blame it on him, but that meant he’d bested her yet again. If she’d meant to do it, it was under her control. But the very act of having to decide between the two is what troubles her, for now she cannot reaffirm whichever decision she makes.

Rebecca breathes in long, drawn out breaths. A feeble attempt at pacifying herself. Him. She decides. It’s all his fault.

Rather abruptly, the woman snatches up the spoilt bag and marches toward the front door. Rage is etched into her features when she swings that door open. It’s backside slams against the wall, causing the photos and decor that hang up against it to shutter with the rumble. She chucks the bag of meat out into the driveway, hears it land someplace in the dirt and screams out.

“Fuck you, Johnny Sawyer! Rot in hell!” Her voice reverberates across both the land and house, and it isn’t until her father approaches the opposing end of the foyer that she realizes she’s messed up.

“Rebecca Payne!” She turns to face him, startled and confused by his sharp tongue. “What the hell you doin’?” She sighs and shuts the door, advancing down the hall. She is not fearful of his scolding; not like she normally is. She thinks she’s grown to become desensitized to it. That, or she really does just hate the boy that much.

“It’s nothin’. Nothin’ happened.” She states bluntly.

“Nothin’? So you screamin’ obscenities ‘bout a damn boy is nothin’?”

“Tch.” She laughs a bit, walking past her father. “It ain’t nothin’ daddy, promise.”

“You worryin’ me girl.” He states, turning around with her. He hasn’t even paid any mind to her vulgar choice of language. His concern lies in other areas. “You right in that head of your’s?”

“Daddy.” Rebecca’s tone is snappy, and she has to hold herself back. She takes a deep breath to calm herself before pressing on. “I’m fine. Don’t ya’ trust me?”

The question is one that really causes Raymond to think. If he answered yes, his response wouldn’t have been entirely true. If he answered no, he was going against the angelic persona Rebecca had painted herself in, the one he’d felt more inclined to believe. The prolonged silence is enough to diminish her confidence, furthering her battle of mental turmoil. Each of them is unsure of how to proceed, stuck between a rock and a hard place, their only saving grace is the knock that comes from the door.

As simple as flipping a light switch, her mood shifts and she scurries to the front door. A generous smile becoming her as she turns the handle to swing it open. She must’ve made a face, for she would’ve said something too if it hadn’t been for Drayton standing behind the two buffoons she met the day prior. The man with the mask stands to the left cross-dressed as a woman. A pathetic attempt of makeup thrown on the peculiar thing. The mask disturbs her, for she swears it’s made out of a swine’s skin. He holds a haphazard bouquet of assorted sunflowers in his left hand, extending it out to her like it was some sort of peace offering, a gift. Nubbins, the nervous one, fiddles and fidgets uncomfortably with the fur appendage wrapped around his neck. They both look shameful, like two idiot children who’d been scolded by their father and forced to apologize.

“Well, this is unexpected.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭! - 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

@yixxes @bdudette @nerdykat101

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