Glitter And Rot
Glitter and Rot
What better way to ring in the new year than with my favourite, degenerate twins. Happy belated new year, y'all <;33
Miya Osamu x female reader x Miya Atsumu
w.c 6.8k
tw: extreme dub-con, themes of infidelity, major character death, smut lite, slight gore/violence, somnophilia if you squint, murder, and, as always, yandere themes
The rain comes heavy, soaking the dirt beneath your bare feet.
The cotton of your nightgown, drenched, plastered to your skin, does little to keep the chill of the midnight air from seeping into your bones. Raindrops fall from the leaves of the trees above you, dripping onto your shoulder, clinging to the ends of your hair, your eyelashes.
In the mountains, away from the city lights, the night glitters with stars, streaks of soft moonlight spilling through the canopy on clear nights. Tonight, though, with the rain clouds looming ominously overhead, there’s no light beyond the sole beam of torchlight, steadily making its way closer towards you.
Your toes wriggle in the earth. Run.
He calls out your name, twigs snapping in the undergrowth behind you.
How… how did you get out here?
The wind picks up, biting at your soaked, exposed skin. You shiver, and he calls your name again. This time you can hear a note of concern – not quite panic, though. Not yet.
Run, that quiet voice urges.
You take a step. Another–
And the torchlight finds you. Squinting under the sudden bright light shining on your face, there’s only a sigh, and the beam shifts downwards.
A familiar countenance peers back at you through the rain; dark hair, grey eyes, a strong jaw. Your husband.
“You’re gonna give me a fucking heart attack one’a these days, sweetheart,” Osamu says, with a wry sort of laugh. “C’mon, let’s get’cha home.”
Holding an umbrella in one hand and the torch in the other, he passes you the latter so that his arm can snake around your middle, tucking you into his side and out of the rain. Unbothered by the dampness of your skin, he presses a kiss to your temple, his thumb rubbing at your side.
“… I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I don’t know– I don’t remember–”
He squeezes you side, offers you a crooked smile as he helps you back through the trees. Back home. “It’s fine, the Doc said this could happen, remember?”
You do, vaguely. The Doctor had said a lot that day, most of it lost to the ringing in your ears.
Neither of you say much as you make the trek back to the house. There’s a gentleness to the way he helps you peel off your sodden nightgown, letting the shower heat up before ushering you in.
“I’m sorry,” you tell him again, when he passes you the big, fluffy towel to rub yourself dry.
Sorry for causing him to worry. Sorry for making him chase after you in the rain in the middle of the night. Sorry that you can’t remember what came before, the life you built with him and all the happiness surrounding it.
You feel like a shell, hollow and useless. You don’t know why he keeps putting up with it, and somewhere in the back of your mind, a nasty voice whispers that he won’t for much longer.
But Samu just shakes his head with a snort, “Don’t be stupid. You’re my wife, ya don’t apologise for anythin’.”
You muster a weak smile in return, quickly glancing away. He’s only being polite, you remind yourself, pulling the towel tighter around yourself. Accident or not, none of this is ideal. It’s been weeks now, and you haven’t gotten better. Your memories are still gone, and no one can tell you with any degree of certainty when or if they’re going to come back, not to mention that tonight officially marks the third time you’ve wandered off in your sleep.
What if your memories don’t come back? What if you never return to the person you used to be?
Before this you had a family, friends, a history. Likes, dislikes, funny stories from your childhood and weird habits. The things that shape who you are from where you’ve been. You’re just supposed to slide back into the life you had, but how can you when you don’t know who that person was?
What kind of man would want–
“Hey,” he says, catching your jaw to coax your face back up. Grey eyes appraise you, a frown pulling at his features. “I mean it. None of this is your fault. Not the accident, or your memories, the sleepwalking, none of it. And I’m not going anywhere either, alright?”
He holds your gaze, surveying you intently until you bob your head in agreement.
“Good girl. Now are ya comin’ back to bed or are ya planning on leavin’ your poor husband high and dry for a second time tonight?”
Your cheeks heat, the heaviness between you easing somewhat as amusement dances across his face. He’s handsome, almost intimidatingly so – striking features and excellent bone structure. Something coils in your stomach as the weight of his gaze bores into you. Taking your face in his palms, his thumb brushes along the curve of your cheekbone. Slowly.
Your mouth parts then, but whatever response you have is lost as his lips descend on yours, kissing you deeply.
When he pulls away, when you’re breathless and slightly dazed, satisfaction and more than a touch of pride gleams from his expression.
“Though we might have to invest in some better locks. Don’t want ya wandering off too far on me.”
—
Sometimes it feels like you’re waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under you.
As if you’ve woken in someone else’s life, or a dream, and it’s only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down and you’re whisked away back to reality. A handsome, devoted husband, not one but two houses – the mountainside retreat you’re staying at while you get better, and a place in the city you haven’t yet seen – even the ring on your finger, the bright, sparkling diamond that sits next to your platinum wedding band.
How can it be real?
He tells you that the two of you work together in his restaurant back home, and that too sounds sweet in an oddly domestic way.
And looks can be deceiving, you know that. Money, success, the image of a perfectly happy couple, it doesn’t mean anything. Façades can crack, rot can fester beneath the surface, slowly eating away.
Everything he tells you sounds so… good.
You’re happy. In love. Fulfilled with your job and comfortable enough financially for the both of you to take the time off while you’re still trying to fix the broken pieces of yourself.
Accident aside, no one gets everything they want. Surely no one can be this happy.
There’s a niggling sense of unease that bites and gnaws. No one can be this happy.
There’s a woman who keeps calling Osamu’s phone. You know because those are the calls he lets ring out, ignoring them until he thinks you’re asleep or busy, distracted by whatever task he’s set you on for the day.
He calls her Hikari. No, that’s not entirely true now, is it – he calls her Kari.
“Kari, you know I wanna be there, but I can’t. Things are just– it’s not a good time right now, s’all.”
And the house is quiet enough that you can hear her desperate sniffles on the other end of the line, “Samu, please, this is important. I need you back here.”
He huffs, running a hand through his sleep mussed hair, pacing the length of the living room. “I can’t,” he repeats. “I’m sorry, I am, but after everythin’… it’s too much.”
She cries again, and it’s a strange thing but your heart squeezes in response. She sounds so broken, so lost and scared, a fragile, pitiable thing. “… I know… “ her voice trembles, “Despite what happened, I know you still care about her. I need you to come back. Please, Samu.”
You slip away then, unable to bear it anymore.
Sliding back beneath the covers of your bed, you let out the shuddering breath you’d been holding, trying to process the conversation you’d overheard.
There were perhaps other explanations beyond an affair, but as you lie there, mulling it over, none come to mind. If she were a friend–
‘I know you still care about her.’
No. You’re not that naive. Maybe you were before the accident, or maybe you had suspicions, hell, maybe you’d physically caught him in the act – you suppose none of that matters anymore, does it? All that matters is what you’re going to do with this new development.
And as your husband returns a few minutes later, crawling into bed beside you, an arm hooked over your waist, the warmth of his muscular frame pressed up against your back chasing away the winter chill, you wonder if he sees this as some kind of atonement.
Osamu exhales, nuzzling closer in an effort to get more comfortable, and amidst the strange heaviness in your chest, you close your eyes and will yourself back to sleep.
—
If Osamu knows that you eavesdropped on his call last night, he gives no indication come morning. Although, admittedly, that might be because of your visitor.
The day the Doctor came to the house, he’d said a lot about what was happening to you. A result of head trauma, there was no telling if or when your memories might return.
He’d spoken to Osamu, taking your concerned looking husband aside just before he’d left.
“What did he say?” you’d asked when he’d returned dutifully to your side.
He hadn’t answered straight away, choosing instead to reach out and take your hand in his. For a moment, his focus remained on your entwined fingers, and then he’d said, “To take things slow. Too many people, too much it might… might overwhelm ya. Until things are better, it’s best if it’s just you ‘n me.”
Today, apparently, marked a change to that, because his twin brother was arriving to stay for a little while.
Which, shortly after mid morning, he does.
Naturally, you’ve seen pictures, you and the twins back in highschool, posing with a friend of theirs, grinning toothily and laughing at the camera. Seeing the two of them in person, though – it’s a whole other ball game.
Next to each other, they’re a mirror image, but… not. Tiny, subtle differences that weirdly make them appear more similar than less. It doesn’t make any sense at all, and yet you have no other way of explaining it.
Osamu stands at your side, his arm slung over your shoulder as his brother pulls up front in a fancy, fast looking car. Atsumu, however, pays him no mind, eyes – a few shades browner than his brother’s – fixed solely on you, a familiar, smirking grin broadening across his handsome visage.
Osamu tells you that the three of you are close, yet with only a faint, glimmering recognition and your husband’s words to fall back on, it’s hard to know how you’re supposed to greet someone you once knew and loved.
With an arm loosely wrapped around your front, you settle for a smile.
Atsumu notes this with a raised eyebrow. “Aw, c’mon now, that ain’t no way to greet your favourite twin, is it?”
Before you can stop him he’s on you, yanking you away from Osamu so he can pick you up into a near crushing hug, spinning you around for good measure. You shriek and bury your face in his neck, clinging to him while he laughs, eventually setting you down on wobbly feet.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he says, ignoring Samu’s disapproving scowl in favour of taking you in, hands settling on your waist. And there must be some giveaway, a hesitance he notes because his demeanour turns curious, head tilting to the side, “Still nothin’, huh?”
You shake your head, shrugging. “Sorry.”
Feels like that’s all you’re capable of saying lately.
“Nah, don’t be. Not your fault.”
While you don’t necessarily agree – it’s hard not to think of any of this as some kind of moral failing, as though the only reason you can’t recover those precious memories is because you’re simply not trying hard enough – it’s… nice having someone else around to help fill in the gaps a little.
Not that you aren’t endlessly grateful to Osamu – more than you actually know how to convey to him, and you have tried. It’s just that when you woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, being watched over by a man you didn’t recognise, and with no memories of who you were or what had happened, you hadn’t reacted well.
Being your husband (the issue of fidelity aside), he’s supposed to be the person who matters the most to you, and you assume that’s a two way street. In a sense, forgetting him is its own kind of betrayal, with that comes the heaviness of expectations and fears and awfulness.
Plus, things have been… strained between you two, lately.
So yes, having Atsumu here as a sort of buffer between you two is a relief. Having someone else to help fill in the gaps in your life, to tell you about the person you used to be – the one you’re trying to fit back into – even more so.
“That year we made it all the way to the finals before gettin’ knocked out.”
His finger draws across the picture; the volleyball team, sweaty and defeated, bowing before the roaring crowd. All these years later, now a pro playing in arguably one of the best teams in the country (according to him), a two-time Olympic medalist, and he still sounds pissed about it.
You bite back a giggle, following when he turns the page of the year book. “I dunno, second in the nation when you’re still in high school doesn't sound too bad to me.”
“You were there that day.”
Glancing up, you find Osamu considering the two of you from the kitchen, elbow deep in food prep for dinner. “I was?”
He nods. “Yeah. Ya came to all our games, right from the start.”
“There,” Atsumu taps on the next page, a picture of a younger you cheering wildly from the stands, hands cupped around your mouth to amplify your shouts, maroon ribbons in your hair. “Our cute little cheerleader.”
“We begged ya to become our manager, but ya kept turnin’ us down,” Samu adds, then smirks, “Said you couldn’t stand being around Tsumu for another ten hours a week.”
The dig reaches its mark, Atsumu sneering as he flips Samu the bird, while his other arm slides from the backrest of the couch to drape over your shoulders. You hardly notice, utterly transfixed by the book on Tsumu’s lap. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how weird it is to be seeing these pictures, like peering into some alternate universe; you, but not you. You look happy, though.
It makes your heart ache a little.
Did you like sports, or was it more of a school pride sort of thing, you wonder. Or was it them – him, really – who drew you into it? If you watched a game now, would you feel anything, some glint of recognition? Excitement?
Flipping the page, you study the various pictures until one in particular catches your eye – only after a second glance. To be fair, the photo isn’t of you – well, it is, but you’re not the focus. Rather it’s of two girls who appear to be in the same year as you, posing cutely with each other on the school’s courtyard. Behind them, though, in the background there’s a wooden picnic bench in the shade of an oak. Perched cross-legged atop it, sitting amongst piled up books and notes, there’s you – and you’re not alone.
Shoulders back, eyes closed, soaking in the rays of the sun filtering through the leaves sits another boy. Not Osamu, one of his teammates, a dark haired kid you recognise from a bunch of the old photos they’d shown you.
The image itself might not be so remarkable – you’re not doing anything all that interesting, one of a number of people captured in the background, and slightly out of focus at that– if not for the one tiny detail that has a strange feeling racing through your heart.
Barely visible but for the way you study it, your hand is curled in his.
“– listenin’?”
“Huh?”
Mid-way through scraping out his rice, Osamu fixes you with an odd expression. Atsumu, however, just snickers and flicks your forehead. “Ya always were a little spacey.”
Halfheartedly, you chuckle along with him.
The smart thing to do – perhaps the right thing – would be to leave it.
Samu told you the two of you dated right through high school, so it can’t be anything like that. There’s a possibility the two of you were just close. Good friends, judging by how often he appears in the photos with you and the twins. He’d told you your parents, the only family you had, died in an accident years ago, but Samu hasn’t really spoken much about your friends. You know why, and understand it to an extent – he doesn’t want to stress you out unnecessarily, not while you’re still so fragile.
‘The doc said we gotta take things slow, baby.’
Nevertheless, your lips part, the question burning on the tip of your tongue–
Suddenly, as has become a frequent occurrence in the past few days, Osamu’s phone blares to life, the loud vibrations against the marble countertop startling all three of you.
He doesn’t answer it, by this point you no longer expect him to.
—
You dream of fingers running through dark hair, of lips smiling lazily. Someone laughing, ‘You’re an idiot.’
There’s a warmth, a slow burning heat that ignites in your body, trailing from your jaw, down the slope of your neck, dancing along delicate collarbone, another unfurling deep within your core. You chase the pleasant sensations, a soft, pretty moan drawn from parted lips.
Only when teeth bite down, a tender nip to sensitive flesh are you roused from your dreams to find your husband straddling you, his mouth now between your breasts, dark eyes that glint in the low morning light taking in your visage as you slowly come to.
“S-Samu, wha–”
“Shh.” He chuckles, your stomach flipping at the deep rumble, “Relax. Gonna make ya feel good, baby.”
Whatever protests you might have (if you have any at all) are lost when you realise that the heat pooling in your guts is due to the two digits Osamu has curled up inside of you, slowly easing in and out.
It isn’t the first time the two of you have been intimate since the accident, and while you hadn’t fought him those times either, there’s a slight niggling sensation, nearly lost to the burgeoning pleasure, that twists and knots at the thought of what’s to come.
There’s no possible way of knowing how often you’ve had sex with each other in the years you’ve been together. For him, this must be old hat. For you though, with no frame of reference, no past partners to call to mind, there’s an edge of vulnerability you wish you could get rid of.
A hesitance you don’t give a voice to – not that Samu offers you much of an opening to do so.
Pushing up the hem of your nightdress, your husband lifts your hips enough to ease off your panties, dragging them slowly down smooth legs until they’re dangling from one ankle, and you kick them aside.
Spreading them either side of his broad frame, Osamu stands briefly to rid himself of his own underwear, crawling on all fours back between your legs – gripping one thigh to sink his teeth into soft, delectable flesh – his tongue quick to soothe the hurt when you cry out.
“A-Atsumu, he’s gonna wake up,” you murmur as he once more takes you by the waist, hefting you forward so that you lie flush against him, your legs hiked up over his hips.
The very last thing you want right now is an audience.
With one hand, he strokes his cock with the fingers that had been buried inside your pussy, spreading the glistening mix of your slick and his pre over the thick member. The other’s planted near your shoulder, keeping him stable while he rolls his hips forward, slowly bullying his cock into your warm, tight little cunt. Osamu grins roguishly, lowering his top half down to hover above you as you fist at the sheets, your spine arcing, ankles locking over his back.
“Maybe–” he grunts, relishing in the sounds of your sweet cries and gasps as he inches his way into stuffing you full. “Maybe I want him to hear.”
—
A heavy weight drops onto the couch beside you. “Somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”
You fiddle with the rings on your left hand. How many times now have you caught yourself toying with them, completely lost in contemplation, their weight on your finger almost foreign?
A few times now you’ve taken them off to wash up and forgotten about them entirely, not noticing their absence until Samu himself comes to take your hand in his and slide them back on.
Did you used to do that before the accident?
No… no, you probably spent days marvelling at them, wiggling your fingers to make the diamond sparkle in the light. You were probably enthralled by the pretty thing. Blissfully in love.
Happy.
“I think Osamu’s cheating on me.”
You don’t dare raise your eyeline when you say it, afraid of what you’ll see. You might be his wife, however poor a job you’re currently doing, yet the one person Osamu’s closest to is undeniably his brother.
Since Tsumu arrived three days ago, all they’ve done is bicker between themselves, and yet without either of them saying as much, the writing’s on the wall. It’s in the looks they share, full of silent conversations you’re not privy to and won’t ever have a hope of understanding. In the way they move around each other, that implicit, frankly unnerving trust they have with one another.
There are things Osamu can’t share with you – or won’t, maybe – but there’s not a doubt in your mind that if Samu were sleeping with somebody else, if he loved them as he claimed to love you, Atsumu knows about it.
It’s not confirmation that you’re searching for, though. You doubt he’d admit it to begin with – between you and Samu, there’s no question of which side his loyalty falls. This isn’t about that.
For days now, weeks, you’ve had this gnawing pit in your stomach that keeps getting worse, and worse and worse.
With each day that passes, you should be making some kind of progress towards regaining your memories or, if not that, then at the very least becoming more comfortable around him. Yet you still feel like a stranger inhabiting this body, and to make matters worse, your marriage might be failing before you can try to adjust yourself to it.
Atsumu’s really the last person you should be saying this to. It’s the sort of thing you accidentally let slip to a friend after one too many glasses of wine, letting them comfort you and offer advice, commiserate, even.
Yet Samu won’t so much as bring up the friends you had before for fear of making things worse – because you’re fragile and weak, and you haven’t shown any signs of getting better. From the complete and utter radio silence on their ends, you can only assume none of them bothered to fight him on it.
Again, rationally speaking you can understand it – that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting in its own bitter way.
Beside you, Atsumu laughs. Actually laughs.
Indignation – hurt – burns, heating your cheeks as your hands curl into pathetic little fists in your lap and shake. Much to your dismay, tears prickly uncomfortably at your waterline. You go to say something, only for a lump to settle in your throat, blocking all noise. You didn’t think he’d spill the truth just like that, but to laugh at you?
In a split second decision you start to rise, planning on stalking off to go lick your wounds alone in your bedroom until Samu comes home, when a hand on your shoulder stops you.
He chuckles again when he’s met with your poisonous glare, “Hey, c’mon. Don’t run away, I wasn’t laughin’ atcha.”
Raising an eyebrow, you scoff. His lips curl into a smirk, hands coming up in a peaceful gesture. “Okay, okay, I was but… s’just funny to me that you think Samu’d ever look twice at another girl. He’s been in love with ya pretty much from day one.”
The words should be more of a reassurance than they are. Your shoulders rise and fall, a tight shrug as your gaze dips once more to your lap, to the rings that shine mockingly on your left hand.
Atsumu, however, isn’t so willing to drop the subject.
“Nah, you don’t get to say some wild shit like that ‘n then go all quiet on me. Explain.”
If you got up and left, would he follow you? Probably, you muse. If anything, Atsumu’s proven over the past few days that he’s nothing if not persistent. He’s clearly amused, at your expense, mind you, yet the way he scrutinises you now, the slight narrowing of his eyes, that reminds you of a dog with a bone.
No, he won’t let this go.
Nibbling at your bottom lip, you shrug again, “There’s this girl– woman, I guess. She keeps calling him… Samu won’t talk to her if I’m around.” You swallow tightly, “I–I overheard them, the last time she rang, and…”
“What’d ya hear?”
You fiddle with the hem of your skirt as that tell tale prickle stings at your tear ducts. After your early morning tumble in the sheets, you’d thought that things might’ve been different between you two. But Samu still left, some hollow excuse about running errands, and all you can think is that he’s with her now, that whatever you gave wasn’t enough and–
“Look at me.” Atsumu’s no longer laughing. If anything, he actually looks mildly pissed off by the whole thing, his jaw tightening even as he tries for a reassuring smile, scooching closer and touching your shoulder again, “What did she say to him?”
“She told him she needed him, begged him to come home.” Your voice breaks, just as the dam to your tears do, tumbling down your cheeks as your shoulders shake and crumple inwards.
Atsumu runs his tongue over his teeth before muttering a quiet curse, and you suppose that that’s confirmation enough. Without a word he pulls you into his arms, your face held to his chest while he strokes your back and you cling to him in turn, letting all the frustration and grief and confusion of the past few weeks spill out of you in horrid, trembling cries.
You don’t know how long you sit there, half cradled in Atsumu’s lap before he finally speaks, “I don’t care what ya heard. Samu loves you more than anythin’, we both do. He ain’t gonna throw that away for nobody.”
Drawing back, he takes your cheek in one hand, cupping it in his palm, the broad pad of his thumb sweeping away the remnants of your tears with a tenderness that near breaks your heart.
“I mean it,” he says. You’re close enough that the warmth of his breath tickles your skin, that you can count every last one of his eyelashes. Your stomach flutters. “You mean everything to us. Nothin’s gonna get in the way of that.”
And before you can stop him, before you can blink, Atsumu’s closing the gap between you, his lips meeting yours.
Like a computer short circuiting, there’s nothing you can do but freeze and falter as he kisses you, wholly unbothered by your lack of participation. His lips are surprisingly soft, warm as they move against yours, and while his tongue brushes along your lower lip, he makes no real effort to deepen it, seemingly content with the contact he has.
Your heart pounds against your ribcage so violently that it drowns out all other noise. Your stomach twists, flips, churning as he moans softly into your mouth, but for the life of you, you can’t move, can’t stop this. You’re frozen. Shellshocked. Only when Atsumu breaks away, pupils dilated, eyes slightly glazed over, wearing a stupid, self satisfied little grin do you finally gain control over your body again.
By that point, he’s already shifting to settle you back on the couch, rising himself. “Samu and I love ya. We aren’t goin’ anywhere, stop worrying your pretty little head about it, yeah?”
And then he’s walking away, whistling as he goes.
—
A little while later, Atsumu calls out that he’s going for a run. You don’t acknowledge it.
The front door opens. Closes. The sun moves across the sky, minutes tick by, and eventually he returns, sweaty and panting, popping his head in the door to make sure you’re right where he left you.
The whole time you sit stationary on your bed, staring vacantly out the window to the forest that lies beyond. Numb, just numb.
“Gonna go have a shower, then I think you ‘n me should talk before Samu gets back.” He waits and you don’t acknowledge him. Shrugging off his shirt, something wicked enters his expression, “Unless ya wanna come join me?”
That, finally, gets a reaction; your head jerking back to regard him with wide, scandalised eyes, “What?”
He winks, snickers when your gaze drops briefly below his shoulders, eyeing his muscular chest, the well defined planes of his stomach. A bead of sweat rolls from his neck, you track its path with a rapt focus, down to his navel, the smattering of hair there, the cut of the V shaped muscles that draw your attention towards–
Abruptly, you force your attention upwards, cheeks burning as blood rushes to your face.
Atsumu, grinning smugly, missed none of it. “Next time, then.”
And with that, he waltzes off, leaving the door ajar.
… What the hell?
What the actual fuck?
Head reeling, you have no idea how you’re supposed to process this sudden shift in… well, everything. Had this – you and Atsumu – happened before? Did Osamu know about it?
Were you cheating, too?
Was that what your relationship with Osamu was; two deeply unhappy people screwing countless others to avoid fixing whatever it was that festered between them.
Your mind jumps to the picture you’d seen in the year book, you and that boy on the picnic bench, your hand wrapped around his. Osamu told you that you’d been dating ever since your high school days, had you been unfaithful that whole time – spreading your legs for his friends and brother until he gave up trying to be loyal in return?
You feel sick at the thought.
What other option is there, though? What explanation? Either Atsumu’s being particularly cruel and messing with you, or he isn’t and you’re apparently more than okay fucking not only your husband but his brother as well.
‘Despite what happened, I know you still care about her.’ Hikari’s words ring mockingly in your head. All this time you’ve been so bent out of shape over the idea of Osamu with another woman, and it’s now occurring to you that maybe you might’ve been the one to drive him to it.
Despite what happened.
You draw in a shuddering breath, you bring a hand to your lips, either to stifle a sob or to keep yourself from throwing up, you’re not entirely sure which.
And as the sound of running water filters through the room, so too does a sense of calm clarity.
For weeks now you’ve been trying to make this work, trying to slip back into the person you were, a life that you don’t truly remember.
And it isn’t working.
You still don’t feel normal around Osamu. You don’t remember anything, and despite what you’d been told from the start – despite fighting it every step of the way – you have to accept the possibility that that might not change.
Your spine straightens, the grip you have on the duvet easing as you take another, calmer breath in, letting it fill your lungs and clear your head.
The answer’s been staring you in the face this whole time. If you can’t find your way back to the life you led before you got hurt, perhaps rather than clinging to a past that doesn’t truly belong to you anymore, it’s time you cut it loose and walk away.
A clean break doesn’t sound like such a bad idea when the current situation promises nothing but messiness, hurt and heartbreak for everyone involved.
Even if the thought of going it alone is a terrifying one.
Even if it means leaving the one – now two, you suppose – people who stood by your side in the aftermath behind.
And as if the universe senses the tumultuousness inside your head, the sharp, trilling sound of a ringtone shatters it, snapping you out of your thoughts and back into the moment.
You figure that it must be Atsumu’s phone and despite being startled, you’re content to let it ring out – after all, it’s not your phone, not your business.
Atsumu’s a professional athlete, an incredibly successful one at that, there could be any number of important people on the other end of the line, and if it’s critical, whoever it is can leave a message. You’re not his receptionist.
After a few seconds, the ringing stops. And begins again.
Frowning, you push yourself up from the bed, heading towards the dining room. Atsumu’s still in the shower, you can hear the faucet running, your only thought is that if it’s Samu and it’s something urgent, he won’t mind.
Except when you find it, lit up and vibrating on the kitchen bench, the caller ID isn’t his twin’s. Again, the ringing stops, and again, after a short beat, it begins anew.
The picture that fills the screen is of a pretty girl with dimples, her arms looped around a familiar looking brunet.
Not Osamu, but the boy from the yearbook. Older, of course, smiling lazily at the camera while she pokes her tongue out and throws up two peace signs.
Little Suna, the caller ID tells you, and in brackets next to a sun emoji; Hikari.
Your heart squeezes, a thick lump settling in your throat as you survey the image of the two of them. But it isn’t dismay, or the hurt you’d felt earlier when Osamu was hiding her. You can’t put a finger on what it is exactly, only that looking at that picture fills you with an incomprehensible and near overwhelming sense of grief, like someone’s clawed their way into your chest, taken your still beating heart in their hand and slowly, agonisingly, ripped it from you.
Without consciously choosing to do so, you slide the little bar across, answering the call and clicking on the speaker icon.
“H-hello?”
The silence you’re met with is heavy. Pregnant. Why did you pick up? Why the hell did you answer?! Panic and common sense sets in and you silently curse yourself for being so stupid, your finger moving to hurriedly tap the end call button.
And then you hear her gasp, a tiny, sharp little thing that spears right through you. Hikari stutters your name, “You… Wha– they… they found you?”
She starts to laugh then, or maybe she’s sobbing, it’s difficult to tell exactly.
“You’re okay?” she asks, the sound muffled by choked, ragged noises. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re okay! A-after they found Rin, I-I thought–”
White noise drowns her out.
… Rin.
Rin…taro.
Suna.
Your knees go weak, giving way beneath you. Pain sings through your kneecaps as they collide with the wooden floorboards, but it’s nothing compared to the agony that overtakes your chest, spreading with every beat of your frantic heart until it’s the only thing you can feel, and you cling to it. Desperate. Gasping.
There’s a frantic noise somewhere, Hikari calling your name; it’s lost to the pounding haze. Nothing more than the buzz of a gnat flittering around your head.
Every thought eddies from your head, only him. Only that name; Suna Rintaro.
And suddenly–
“You’re an idiot, you know?”
You laugh, throwing an arm around his shoulder as you wriggle your fingers in front of his face, admiring the sparkling ring. “But it’s so pretty, don’t you think? It suits me.”
He raises an unimpressed eyebrow when you turn to cheekily grin at him, “Considering I was the one who picked it, yeah, that was kind of the idea.”
Giggling, you stretch up on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek.
………
“Gin can’t make it. Somethin’ about his girlfriend and the baby,” Rin mutters, appearing in the doorway of your bedroom. “So it’ll just be us and the twins, I guess.”
“Well geez, no need to sound too excited about it,” you say, eyeing your boyfriend – fiancé now, you have to keep reminding yourself – from the mirror as you battle with the clasp of your necklace. “It’s fine, we’ll see him when we see Kita and the others next month.”
A few seconds pass with no sign of victory, and Rin rolls his eyes, “Let me.”
He comes up behind you, taking the delicate gold chain from your fingers and nimbly clasping it shut in what feels like a mockery of your struggles. Adjusting the pendant so that it falls better, he exhales, letting his arms fold loosely around you, his chin coming to a rest atop your head.
The faint crease between his brows, the set of his jaw – to anyone else he might appear bored, annoyed even. You aren’t so easily fooled. You know Rin, know better than to push. It’s not hard to guess what’s bothering him, though. “You think it’ll be weird?”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he shrugs, “I think it’ll be weirder without Gin.”
“It was years ago, they’ve both moved on – a long, long time ago. They’re our friends, Rin. The only thing they’re gonna be is happy for us.”
………
A hand covering your mouth, another roughly shaking your shoulder, rousing you from sleep. “Shh, shh, it’s just me. There’s someone in the house,” Rin’s voice whispers in your ear. “Get under the bed and don’t make a sound, okay? I’ll be right back.”
“Rin–”
“Not a fucking sound!” he hisses, and quietly slips from the bed. As if on cue, a loud shattering noise cuts through the room, and terror, absolute terror, grips you. You do as he bids, limbs shaking and clumsy, the sound of every breath enhanced in the quiet stillness Rintaro leaves behind. You clamp a hand over your mouth to try and muffle it.
You wait, and wait, trembling in the darkness.
And then a crash, heavier than the last one. Rintaro’s yelling, more voices raised, more muted thumps, grunting and howling bellows of agony that have every hair on your body standing on end, and abruptly–
Silence.
It rings in your ear, echoing.
Your pulse thunders, every beat of your heart pumping a paralysing mix of fear and panic through your body. You’re shaking like a leaf, tears streaming down your cheeks as you try – try so desperately – not to make a noise like Rin told you to.
The footsteps that approach have your blood running cold, and you squeeze your eyes shut, wheezing terrified breaths as you choke back sobs and pray that they won’t find you.
You aren’t that lucky.
You aren’t that quiet.
They stop at the foot of the bed. Two of them. One bends down, a hand finding your ankle and with a snickering laugh, yanks you out into the open.
You scream and fight against the figures clad head to toe in black, thrashing like a wild thing for all the good that it does you. You’re determined not to go easy – at least, not until they carry you out past the living room, the mess they left there.
Rin, but not Rin. Not with his face brutalised like that, his skull all caved in, limbs broken and splayed out all wrong.
No.
No, no, no, no.
One eye, empty and lifeless, staring back–
It’s too much.
You blink, jerking back to the present with a heaving gasp. Glancing up, your gut tightens into a knot as two things become starkly apparent.
One; Osamu’s finally returned, standing half frozen in the doorway, appraising you with an uncharacteristically cold expression.
Two; it’s deathly quiet. Turning your head, you find that the call with Kari’s gone silent, a shirtless Atsumu, hair damp, a towel wrapped dangerously low around his hips, gripping his phone, jaw tightly clenched.
It twists into an awful sort of forced grin when he notices you’ve come back to them.
“I really, really wish ya hadn’t done that, baby.”
More Posts from Junkyuholic and Others
you're the reason (i got a weakness) | miya atsumu
wc: 2.9k
summary: it’s not that atsumu doesn't like you dressing up like this—in fact, he loves it. just not when you're fighting. not when he can't even call you "baby".
contains: post-timeskip atsumu, arguments and atsumu feeling really sorry, flashbacks, uses the nickname “baby” & “my love”, reader is described as “pretty” and wears heels, hurt/comfort.
a/n: atsumu isn’t a sucky boyfriend he just gets carried away sometimes. song inspo: can you blame me? - kehlani, lucky daye.
part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)
sponsored by @itskilau and @tasoyoru for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!
“Bab—”
Atsumu lingers by your bathroom door, eyes drooping lower and sadder than they ever have. The steam makes the bleached strands of his hair cling to his forehead, his thick eyebrows now damp and flattened.
You sigh, the big, heavy, and deep kind, shoulders dropping as you clasp the lock of your necklace.
He stares.
That’s his job. You always ask him to do it the moment you step out of the shower.
His lip trembles, eyes watery.
“Not now, Atsumu.”
You walk past him as you adjust the towel around your chest, your arm brushing against his. It’s a small thing, a sensation ingrained so deeply into the past two years you’ve been together, but he feels it like it’s the first time you ever touched him—and in a way, it is. Since yesterday, at least.
The silence that trails after you is so deafeningly still, he thinks he can hear his heart breaking.
“Atsumu,” your voice rings.
Who the hell is “Atsumu”?
He’s not supposed to be “Atsumu” to you. He’s “Tsum.” He’s “baby.” He’s “my love.”
Anything but “Atsumu.”
When you close the door of your walk-in closet to change, the metaphorical volleyball of hope floating right into the palm of his hand misses and drops straight to the floor.
It started with volleyball, as all things with Atsumu do.
You’d met him at the rise of his career, just a few years of him being pro. You were friends first, but if you ask anyone around Atsumu, they’d tell you you were never just a friend to him; he’d invited you to all his games and practice matches, spent a bit more time in the locker rooms before going out for dinner with you and the rest of the team.
Osamu has the receipts of all the extra orders of onigiri Atsumu started adding to his regular weekly subscription since meeting you.
Your first ‘date’ was Atsumu treading the very fine line between teaching you how to play volleyball and teaching himself self-control. Keeping an eye on the ball is hard enough, what more when he has to resist staring at you in very cute volleyball shorts too?
As MSBY’s success skyrocketed, so did Atsumu’s—brand deals left and right, solo work trips during off seasons, commercials; the whole thing. When Atsumu wasn’t training, he was either traveling or attending events and photoshoots. Always on-the-go. Moving.
And he knew you understood, knew you knew him and his tendencies to overwork; knew him, and his habit of getting stuck inside his own world. You’d driven to late practices with bento boxes to share, and you’d packed his gym bag more than a few times, brought in extra clothes without him having to say a word.
You’ve managed his lifestyle better than anyone could.
But, Atsumu has a bad habit of promising more than he should, of serving white lies just as easily as he does volleyballs behind the service line.
“Won’t take long, baby. Swear it,” he holds on to the wall by your door, slipping his feet inside his dress shoes. “Pick ya up at 6:00?”
He’d winked at you then, kissed you between your eyebrows and nose before sneaking one more right at that spot underneath your ear.
What he’d give to be able to do that right now.
“Okay,” you giggle, swatting his chest as you nod, “better hurry then, you might be late.”
When Atsumu remembers that moment, the way you’d agreed so doubtlessly, he hates himself even more. You trusted him, have trusted him so wholeheartedly this entire time, so maybe you’re right—
“Would it hurt for you to just be honest?”
—Atsumu has no excuse standing you up on the date he promised you weeks ago all because he lost track of time in some brand event, listening to a potential collaboration on volleyball shoes. Atsumu has no excuse agreeing to “some drinks” right after just to meet the executives of the company.
There are meetings for those things, ones that can be scheduled and agreed upon. Ones that don’t compromise or add on to the already long list of missed dates with you.
“I know you’re busy and I understand,” you sigh, turning the knob of the kitchen stove as you heat up the kettle, “you know I do.”
He stands before you a quarter past 11:00 p.m., cologne long faded and the smell of alcohol spilled on his sleeve. The kitchen island stands like a net on the court, the ball being sent over to his side.
“Baby, I—”
He passes it back.
You turn from the stove, face fresh and hair tied into a messy low bun as you look at him—how could he have ever stood this–you–up?
You take the ball, “Can I finish what I have to say first?”
He nods. The kettle begins whizzing.
“I’m happy and so, so proud that you have all these opportunities,” you reach for the cupboard above head to grab a mug. The box of tea bags sits to your right, a mix of Lemon Balm and Chamomile that Atsumu swears keeps his anxieties at bay during the night. “But at least tell me if you can’t make it.”
You tear open a tea packet, dangling it inside the mug. The kettle whistles, and he feels the onset of a spike.
“Please don’t keep my hopes up every time.”
You turn back towards the stove, turning the burner off as you pour in the steaming water inside the mug.
“Baby, I swear, they just–they started talkin’ ‘bout these shoes, ‘n I thought t’was cool, ‘n the execs–they said the execs’d be there in the afterparty, and—” he breathes, “won’t happen next time, baby. ‘M so—”
“Can I really believe you next time?”
You approach the kitchen island slowly, holding the piping hot mug carefully as you set it down in front of him.
Atsumu stood you up on your date, and you still made him tea.
You hold his stare for a brief moment before you walk away, sadness and disappointment all-in-one.
It is now that Atsumu knows, he’s fucked up.
The ball lands on his side of the court.
And so, he’s spent this entire day trying to make it up to you—breakfast in the morning, right before training (which he absolutely tanked because all he could think about was how sad you looked the night before); flowers that he brought home after lunch time, just to find the apartment empty. It’s only after a full text thread and three missed calls to your phone that he finally gets a response.
“Nail appointment. Going out tonight,” is your reply (using speech-to-text too, he suspects, with how formal it sounds).
Which is fine and dandy to him; you should do everything that makes you feel better after he practically took you for granted. It’s just—he hasn’t even said sorry yet, can’t even call you “baby”, can’t even touch you even though he really, really, really wants to.
And now, with you closing the door on him while you’re changing—there’s nothing else he can do, really, but to walk away and give you some space.
He shifts his feet, dragging them lightly against the wooden floors of your bedroom.
The moment he hears the door of your walk-in closet slide open, he hurriedly sits down on the edge of your bed, acting as if he wasn’t just anxiously pacing, waiting for you to come out.
He feels like shit, if he’s being honest—like how he does when he misses a serve; if not, worse.
You look good. Make-up done to only emphasize the features he loves (which is your entire face, really), and your outfit perfectly accentuating the dips and curves of your body.
He follows you as you exit the room, tailing after you like a lost puppy. When you stop by your entryway, all he can do is watch as you bend down to put on the straps of your heels. And it sucks, because if you weren’t fighting, Atsumu would be right by your feet, crouched low so that you wouldn’t have to.
It’s pathetic and a little helpless of him to just stand and stare in the middle of your living room. He should say something at least, but, you just look so good, and his throat feels dry; his heart all achy and stomach twisty.
He doesn’t want to be away from you.
And it’s not that he doesn’t like you going out looking like this—he loves it. But as soon as you step out the door with a soft “don’t wait up for me” mumbled from your glossed lips, Atsumu can only taste bitter regret at the fact that he wishes he were coming with you.
He couldn’t even give you a goodbye kiss.
The blond groans, pulling at his hair as he rests his elbows down on the kitchen counter.
“Don’t wait up for me,” you said. As if he can even sleep without you around.
.
.
.
The hours go by but they feel like days. Atsumu’s done every possible thing he can do in this apartment and it still hasn’t breached 11:00 p.m.. He’s cleaned down the kitchen (twice!) and arranged the food inside the fridge like those ‘stock up my fridge with me’ tiktoks he’s seen on Sakusa’s phone. The clothes on his side of the closet have been arranged by color and length, with all the ones in his dresser refolded, Marie Kondo style. He’s also pretty sure he’s scrubbed the bathroom down enough that you can probably see your reflection on the tiles of the damn thing. The laundry baskets for both your clothes are now empty, and he’s changed the bedsheets too and—
He’s still restless. The numbers on the clock taunt him, moving up agonizingly slowly. He can’t stop looking at the time, itching for you to come home.
Atsumu is sorry, so so so incredibly so, because you’re right―he hasn’t been fair to you at all, and he needs you to know that he knows it, too.
His eyes go over the clock again, only a minute having passed since the last time he checked it.
Is this how you felt? Every time you waited for him to come home for a date he promised you?
He squeezes his eyes; it hurts him just thinking about it.
That’s it, he decides, grabbing his phone and wallet as he walks out the door.
.
.
.
Atsumu doesn’t check your location often (maybe only a few times). It’s not a trust thing, he swears; it’s just for when he wants to make sure you’re somewhere safe, or in a place he can reach you should you need him there.
And, you clearly don’t need him right now, but, Atsumu is a little selfish, he admits.
Sitting at home with all his regret feels worse than seeking you out to beg for your forgiveness, whether you want him to or not.
He’s barely dressed for the venue as he steps inside the bar, a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt with those fashionable Birkenstock clogs on. A few people seem to recognize him, tilting their heads and murmuring among themselves as he walks through door, but none of them approach him, thankfully, except for a server asking if he needs assistance.
His eyes scan the tables first, searching for any semblance of the outfit he’d seen you leave in earlier. The dim lights make it increasingly difficult for him to look for your properly as he squints his eyes some more, narrowing his vision to the people at the front bar this time. It’s after the fourth person he dismisses that he feels himself getting desperate, nearly turning towards the server beside him to ask for help.
Until he spots you—tucked in the corner of the front bar, sitting on the barstool with your legs crossed as you swirl around your drink.
You look bored, and a little sad, chin resting in your hand as you lean your elbow on the table.
He frowns, thanking the server on the side as he makes his way to you slowly. You barely notice him as you bring out your phone, tapping on the screen as you stare at it almost longingly―a photo of you and him some time ago after one of his games. He knows it well, can still remember that day so clearly: when he became a PR nightmare because he couldn’t help but announce your relationship by kissing you in front of everybody.
It makes his chest hurt.
Then, you swipe it open, and he’s close enough now to be able to catch a glimpse of what’s on your screen: your text thread with him, his last message being, “Did you make it safely?”
(You pout, eyes pricking with tears. You didn’t reply to him then because you weren’t ready to fully talk to him yet, still upset and disappointed.
It was easy to make yourself feel better by dressing up and stepping out of the apartment earlier, the promise of good drinks and good company awaiting your arrival; you couldn’t think about how you felt if you were busying yourself with others. But now that all of those feelings have died down and most of your friends have started chatting up other people they’ve found, it’s beginning to hit you all at once just how much you still prefer Atsumu’s company more than anything else.
Your fingers hover over your text box, typing and deleting. Typing and deleting.)
He’s two stools away from you now, and he can barely contain it―
“Baby,” his voice trembles, unsteady.
Recognition fills you as you turn to the sound, half-confused at whether you’re hearing things; whether―
(“Tsum,” you mutter, eyes catching a pair of familiar warm brown staring back at you. His bottom lip quivers, the embodiment of a dam starting to crack, vibrating.
Your emotions are a mess, your breath on hold as you feel tears welling up in your lashline too. You still feel upset, still a little sad, and a tiny bit disappointed, but what coats them all is a sense of relief because—)
―he’s here, standing in front of you like he just rolled out of the house with barely enough time to get dressed (which, you’re sure is exactly how things went), and you’re sliding off the bar stool in the prettiest outfit, looking like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
“‘M so sorry,” he breathes out, stepping closer as he grabs your hand, “Don’t ever wanna make y’feel like that again.” His knee gives way as he starts sinking to the floor, “I won’t do that anymore―”
“Tsum,” you try to call his attention.
He’ll beg for your forgiveness whether you like it or not.
(The interaction is causing nearby tables to look, murmurs and whispers in your periphery as you catch vague sentences here and there. He still is a public figure, after all.)
But Atsumu is unaware, looking at you and you alone as he pleads, “No, please hear me out first. I promise I’ll tell ‘em they can speak ‘ta―”
“Tsum,” you squeeze his hand, whispering more firmly as you try to pull him up.
“Baby, please. Gimme the chance ‘ta show ya that I―”
(You look around and notice even more eyes on the two of you, fond looks on their faces as they prepare their phones for what seems like something momentous. Then it hits you, how this looks―)
“Tsum, please stand up,” you tug at his hand strongly, urging him to stand. His eyebrows furrow as he obliges, only comprehending why when you explain it to him softly, “people were starting to think you were about to propose.”
He pauses for a moment, a slight, “Oh,” as he ponders on it. “Well, if that’s what’ll prove it t’ya, then—”
You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips curling slightly as you hit his shin with your foot and squeeze his hand again, “Don’t joke about things like that.”
Well, it’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind, if he’s being honest.
He sighs, sitting on the stool beside you as he rubs his thumb over your hand again, bringing it close to his lips to kiss softly.
“‘M really sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your skin before moving your hand over his heart. “Don’t ever want ya feelin’ like this again.”
“I know,” you give him a small smile, patting down some of the strands of his hair that stick out, “you didn’t have to come out here though, you know. I was about to go home soon, anyway.”
“Can ya blame me? Seein’ ya off like that?” he grips your hand tighter as his voice softens. “Y’re too pretty to be sad,” he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his.
You hit his shin again, feeling shy. You always do when Atsumu likes to sweet-talk you.
“Do ya forgive me?” he asks after some time, as you take the last few sips of your drink.
You hum, looking him in the eyes as you nod, pouting, “I don’t like being mad at you, you know.” He lights up, beaming, but you add on, “We still have to talk about it properly, though. Later, when we get back.”
He nods in agreement, holding your hand as you slide off the barstool, guiding you out of the bar and into the car.
.
.
.
(You both do talk about it properly, and the next time Atsumu promises you a date, he blocks it out of all of his calendars, sending the date to his manager even, just to be extra sure.)
a/n: this has been such a long time coming, i'm sorry to those who waited! i hope you enjoyed even though this simmered with me for way too long 😭 i love writing atsumu a little lovesick but i also think he deserves someone who is equally as in deep as he is 🥺
thank you notes: to 🍧 anon for helping me figure out "what would make you mad at atsumu?" and to @ceroseis and @mieiri for always listening to my shenanigans pre-writing!
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
Hey, can I request mashiho, hyunsuk and junkyu as boyfriends instead🥺💘
tysm for requesting (again)!! tbh they all would be the most softest for their s/o im 🥺🥺🥺 rn
Them As Your Boyfriend Headcanons
Mashiho
would be constantly be a blushing mess
every time he compliments you, you end up blushing and vice versa
definitely the type to invest into couple items
whenever he goes on tour he would always, and I mean always buy a couple item
whenever you two have karaoke dates, Mashiho always makes the karaoke room into his very own concert
mans can sing and rap so you two will be having singing and rapping duets!
sorry but your camera roll wil be filled w him
he’s just so cute !!
yall would take the most cutest couple pictures!!
like going to Disney land and getting Minnie and Mickey Mouse ears !!!
posting stuff like that ^^^
whenever someone brings you up he just turns all giddy!!!
y’all would have fanboys from treasure ngl
they just think you’re both too cute
would probably love being the big spoon since he is small and it probably makes him feel manly 🥺🥺
nah jks if you’ve seen how he is with Junkyu then YOU KNOW that he’s 99.9% of the time gnna be the small spoon
since him and Junkyu are pretty close, y’all are gnna have a third wheeler
and the third wheelers probably gnna be you
jks jks!!
but Junkyu would probably be one of the first people mashi would go to advice for anything related to you
whenever you’re upset he would be upset as well :(
he probably wouldn’t know what to do so that’s when he goes to Junkyu
would most likely give you time to yourself
would probably act cute to make you feel better 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
so please communicate with him!!
when y’all fight he’d be so upset aswell :(
like he might not shed any tears but he would have absolutely no motivation to do anything
you two both need to confront each other and fix whatever problem arises!!
the only way you can make up after fights is through a lot of cuddles!!
Junkyu
most optimistic couple you two would be omg
wherever you two go the room just lights up
uk how after a storm there’s always the sun coming up???? THATS YOU TWO
funniest couple as well!!
biggest memes
you two would have so many inside jokes
like if anyone else heard the conversations you two have, they would be like ‘wtf’
y’all have the dumbest inside jokes as well
like whenever you see a black cap you two instantly think of yg balding
you don’t even have to say it you two just burst out laughing
you two would probably have an alien couple type of nickname im srry
okay so; y’all would take the most meme worthy photos ??? like whatever sunglasses you two see you just put it on and start posing
you two would find a wig and make a whole fashion show while wearing that wig omg
he is a sensitive man
despite having a seemingly very outgoing exterior, on the inside he seems insecure
and you’re probably the reason on how he’s slowly getting over those insecurities
you’re going to be reassuring him a lot bc he’s the type to over think ALOT
whenever something upsets him, the only thing that would make him feel better is some alone time with you
you just holding him in your arms whispering sweet nothings as he cries it alllll out
now you see, you’re probably the ‘stronger’ one of the relationship
bc if the positions were switched and you were the one crying in his arms;
he would definitely be crying with you 🥺
it just hurts him to think that the person that is literally the sun of his world is going through some type of hardship
it hurts him vvvvv much
when you two get into fights he would think it’s his fault immediately so that’s why he needs reassurance!!!
if you’re ever upset w him (most unlikely) please communicate with him bc he’ll start making assumptions that you might wanna break up w him :(((
so please talk it out !!
anyways! junkyu: an amazing boyfriend :)
Hyunsuk
the best person to go to for fashion advice
he KNOWS his brands and what accentuates your features
so if you had bad taste in fashion; not anymore with hyunsuk you don’t !!
you two are the power couple
also the fashion couple !
you two both dress up like bad asses
when the two of you walk down the streets people are literally turning heads
the fashion! the power! the vibes!
literal power couple
ppl would take pictures of you two bc of how good you two look
would love to do some raps w you
like some bobby x mino songs 😎
ends with him almost bursting a lung bc of laughter
and it’s bc of u
the type to tease you
if you rap a certain way he’s gnna imitate you for the rest of your life srry
tbh yg has been a piece of shit to him
and everyone knows that
but you’re the one whose threatening to beat ygs ass
and that makes him smile :)
and it does make him feel better
it’s probably rly hard for hyunsuk since only a few members from Team A debuted w him
and since he’s the eldest of the group now he gets stressed
and that’s when you need to hold him and reassure him
(just like Junkyu hehe)
but it’s not as bad as Junkyu
he just needs a bit of reassurance
when you two get into fights he would be more on the mad than sad side
but that’ll soon die down after he realises that he can’t be upset with you
and vice versa
might feel like a disappointment
oh god hyunsuk just deserves better :(
yg treated him like dirt ;(
I’m sad now :((
ANYWAYS
I think he prefers being the big spoon
loves playing with your hair !!
becomes your hair stylist (+your actual stylist)
would make raps about you 🥺🥺
would also have you listen to whatever raps he writes before he shows it to ygs ugly ass
would always send you good morning and good night texts
NEVER forgets to
hyunsuk: soft boyfriend 🥺🥺🥺🥺
Lost Nuance
College AU Uvogin x fem! Reader
This plays in the same universe as the college AU with Shalnark! I had a large part of this already written in my drafts, but it eventually got to this 5k piece.
This is a bit darker than my average piece, so take the warnings into account. Contains nsfw, yandere, violence and other disturbing themes.
“-so I think that’s it. D’you need help with anything else?”
“Nah, I think it’s fine. Only need a passing grade anyway.”
You laughed as you packed your books, your back already lamenting having to carry all this home. “That’s the spirit.”
“What’s the rush though?” He leaned backward in the cheap chairs provided by the library, and you wondered how the plastic was holding up. “Usually I have to beg we stop.”
“The dance is tonight, remember?” Your friends and you had all already gotten dresses and suits, planning to spend the afternoon dressing up and eating together. It had been a while since you’d seen the lot of them, so you were looking forward to some quality time. Uvogin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah, yeah, get it out of your system. I have plans for once.”
“Who would’ve thought? Someone asked you?” He dug into his pockets, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, waiting for you to nod that the librarian wasn’t near. “You’re leaving the nest, y/n.”
You weren’t asked by anyone, but you didn’t want him to make fun of you, so you kept quiet. He got caught every week with another girl so you couldn’t exactly expect him to understand that it simply didn’t seem to be in your stars to meet someone. Everyone you even tried to approach looked at you as if talking to you was already life-threatening.
He lit up the cigarette.
Keep reading
mixed messages | r. sukuna
✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, unhealthy relationships, not cheating but reader flirts with gojo while tipsy for fun, undefined relationships, fingering / making out, jealousy, modern!sukuna, sukuna and yuuji r brothers 18+
✮ wc ; 2k
✮ a/n ; a snippet / extension of my modern sukuna post for @arguablyferal. i hope it gives a clear-ish idea of what he's like!!
some more like. relationship explanation in an authors note at the end.
✮ synopsis ; you've never been able to get a good read on him. would he really come to a party just to keep you from flirting with another guy ?
somehow you doubt it.
He's hitting on you.
Gojo is, you think. Though you can't be sure since it feels...a little conceited to believe that a guy like that suddenly developed a genuine interest in you. You can think of a couple reasons he would hit on you, all of them to do with getting on Sukuna's last nerve in their never-ending rivalry.
But it's weird because it doesn't really feel like he's just messing around. As in, it doesn't seem like it's just for that reason.
You know Gojo. Not as close as Shoko or Getou might but enough to comfortably call yourself a distant friend. A little more than acquaintance but less then close.
He's facetious—melodramatic, really—totally by design. By necessity, some of it is an act, but you're good enough at reading him to know what's playful and what's not.
That's why you think that Gojo is really hitting on you. He's using the fact Sukuna, your...whatever, isn't here attending with you. He was supposed to be here but he flaked last minuted on coming with you. You ended up taking Yuuji and his friends though, anyhow.
You're letting him do it. He's serious about hitting on you, and he probably knows you're not very serious about returning his feelings.
But you're entertaining it, despite yourself.
Everyone you know is looking the other way while it happens too. Gojo is leaned close, sitting next to you in a plastic chair, and you're just a little bit buzzed. Humid summer air warms your skin, makes you want to sink into the night.
You're not touching, but you're too close for not-quite-friends. Gojo edges on touchy. A soft nudge here and there, the kind of proximity you shouldn't have. Gojo is a breath away, sober because he doesn't like alcohol.
And he's super friendly, which is nice.
A beat of silence settles between you as the night rolls in a little heavier.
Gojo says you what you assume he's been thinking about all night, without any real introduction.
"You should break up with him," He says, just over a can of soda with a kind of sincerity that makes you restless. You feel your nerves flip.
Your mouth moves before your mind has a chance to fill in the answer. You laugh. "I know."
"You're really too good for him, tsk," Gojo laments, clicking his teeth. Playful again, using just enough drawback so that you don't suffocate in the honesty. You shouldn't entertain this but the attention is nice. "And gosh, you're so much more fun without that dark cloud hanging around you, y'know"
You giggle unconsciously at the thought of Sukuna as a dark cloud. Big and broad with a deep voice—it's an astute comparison. Shaking your head, you give him a playful glance. "Am I really more fun? I feel like I'm not as good a conversationalist as a certain someone,"
Gojo smiles at you proudly. "I'm having fun at least."
You close your eyes and take another, much longer drink. "Yeah, me too."
"If you know you can do better, why bother with him? I figure that bastard might be holding you hostage but," He's serious again, brows raised. "You've got more options, you know?"
You shrug, absently. You don't know the answer yourself. It's one thing that Sukuna never quite lets you leave but it's another thing you come back to him every time. You settle on your reply with closed eyes then laugh a little too loud. Gojo doesn't startle.
"Who knows? But you know, thank you anyway. It's good to have options. Maybe it'll knock some sense into me,"
Friendly again. He's a nice guy you think.
"If it doesn't, make sure to give me a call. I'm pretty great too, y'know."
You give him a lighthearted smile.
It's hard to hear much over the loud thump of music. You're not very in touch with your surroundings and the pleasant air around you all but swallows you.
It takes you a minute. Longer than you care to admit, to realize that someone is approaching you. Even longer to realize who.
Sukuna is looming over you and Gojo when you finally look up.
"Having fun?"
You blink, pulling away to make sure you're hearing correctly. Sinking back into your chair, your eyes flicker up to whats casting shadow overhead. His voice almost bellows, deep and coarse but not loud.
"I thought you weren't coming," Is all you can think to say. Sukuna rolls his eyes.
"Yeah. I thought so too,"
He doesn't ask you to get up as much as he tugs you towards him. He's careful not to pull too hard but you come up still on a stumble, drink still in hand, and face in his chest. Your heart thumps, embarrassed by the sudden warmth. His hand sits on your lower back and suddenly there's a conversation happening overhead.
"Quit sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," He spits. He's talking to Gojo you realize.
"Be careful there, nii-san. You're gonna make it seem like you care."
Sukuna tenses under you before he relaxes again - rolling his eyes. He's not happy about it but you can hear that he's trying not to let it show.
"Stay out of it." Sukuna demands. Gojo whistles.
"Sure, sure. You two have fun there."
Sukuna turns you around like that, your face still in his chest as he drags you away. You hear Gojo laugh faintly as you walk further away from the crowd.
__
You don't really get any explanation from Sukuna as he packs you and himself in the backseat of his car.
He's quiet the entire walk there, and the air is so heavy your lungs can't find a breath around it. He doesn't say anything to you even as he opens the back door. He tells you to get in but doesn't show any emotion you discern.
Instead you end up laying in the backseat with Sukuna over you - cramped as his tongue slips all the way into your mouth and his hands grab your waist. All too sudden, without any ceremony at all.
You kiss back because he's being so suffocating and it's all you can think to do to appease him. As soon as he lets you breathe, you put a hand on his chest and push him away.
You make eye contact but he still hasn't said a word. "Are you mad?"
He sneers. "You tell me,"
He ducks down again to kiss you and you let him this time, doing your best to gauge what exactly he's thinking. You know he's upset, rather - but it's weird. Something is different about it.
His mouth is hot as he hands slide underneath your shirt further- his knees keeping your legs apart as his thigh presses against your clothed sex. You shiver, moaning into his mouth and Sukuna swallows the noise. Gasping, you pull back again.
"All you do is piss me off you brat," He tugs your lip back between his incisors as he speaks, voice bordering on a snarl. "You should know better than to cozy up to that idiot."
You squirm. "I wasn't cozying—"
"You think I'm fucking stupid? Think I don't got eyes to see with?" And then, like he's predicting your next question. "Yuuji texted me."
"And you came?" You stop, keeping him from going any further. "You came 'cause Yuu-chan sent you a picture of me and Gojo-kun....?"
He ignores your question. "Take your pants off,"
You make a face at him but oblige, hands unbuttoning your jeans as Sukuna practically tugs you out of them and your panties in one go. He sits back up on his legs and maneuvers carefully to keep his hands between your thighs. His middle finger runs through your slit, palm putting pressure on your clit.
He's rushing more than normal, mouth crushing yours again in a kiss so heavy it makes you gasp. You feel like you're imagining it but each time you pull back - his teeth sink into your lips until they're throbbing from how hard he's bitten them up.
He's possessive. Always has been. He's territorial over you in one way or another over everything, but it's usually only when you threaten to leave. There's a merit to what Gojo said about keeping you held down. But even in that, there's never any emotion stronger than annoyance to follow your little tantrums. You wouldn't call what you feel now desperation by any stretch.
But it's something more then simple possession and it makes you ache.
"I wasn't gonna do anything with him." You say half-way between a breath. You see his jaw tick with irritation at the mere thought. "It was just for fun—"
He quiets you with his fingers. With his hands, rough - spitting hard on your clit from where above making it splatter against your thighs. His fingers fingers the thick layer of spit and drag them down against your throbbing clit to make it wetter. He touches you hard and fast, places kisses against your jaw and collar before sinking his teeth into the clothed shape of your tits.
His fingers find your pussy not long after. Thick, scarred, intrusive - he slips them in one at a time. As much as he knows you can take until he touches that spot inside of you that leaves your whole body tingling. Knuckle deep, he presses his palms up against your clit to make sure you have the right friction. You moan his name loud, eyes rolling up into your head,
The windows are starting to fog.
"Sukuna,"
He grabs hold of your face with free hand, bordering on a snarl. It's mean you think, but more then that there's a genuine frustration to it that makes you shiver almost shamefully.
"You're mine." He sneers. You feel your cunt twitch unhelpfully at but Sukuna doesn't budge. Doesn't even go to make fun of you He just keeps growling, leaning in to kiss you - forcing his tongue into your mouth and pulling away again. "Get close with that bastard and I'll kill him."
Your stomach flutters in arousal at the aggression in it. The unreasonable, unhelpful, trained part of your brain nearly screams. He wants you, he wants you, he wants. It makes you wanna—
"G-gonna—gonna cum, fuck, Sukuna."
He kisses you again, murmuring against your lips. "Cum,"
Your thighs clamp around Sukuna's wrists as he continues to finger you, grinding yourself the edge of his palm as you ride out your high. Your voice pitches into a high whine, spine arching. It's rushed but intense, scratching the itch but not enough to tamp down the heat completely. You squirt around his fingers in a full blown gasp and find you can barely get your head above water.
You cum hard, convulsing. He doesn't move his hand until you grab him by the wrist and shake your head. Surprisingly, he listens easily and pulls away.
You pause and stare at him after you've caught your breath.
"What's wrong with you today?"
"Stay the fuck away from that guy."
You roll your eyes. "He's right. It's starting to sound like you love me or something. I wasn't gonna sleep with him anyway so chill out."
He scoffs. "Don't even fucking dream of it. I'd kill you both."
You take a second to look at him. You can't read him to save your life. But he's looking back at you, into you maybe, in a way that makes you wonder if there's something about him you're missing. You wrap your arms around his neck just to see if he'll tell you to stop clinging.
He doesn't though.
"Did you really come all the way here 'cause of what Yuu-chan sent you?"
He glares at you. "Are you deaf? Didn't I say that?"
"But then it sounds like you were jealous."
He rolls his eyes. "You're stupid."
"....You were jealous? Really?"
"Shut up already," He says. And maybe it's the alcohol but you swear his face goes warm. "And seriously stay away from that idiot. If I see some shit like that again I'm locking you in the house and chaining you to my bed."
"Weird proposal but okay."
"Dumbass."
"You love me,"
He rolls his eyes and goes to kiss you. Doesn't deny it, you notice. You pretend not to be giddy.
"Whatever."
✮ extended authors note ; hi!! i hope sukunas personality made sense here.
my point with sukuna in modern is that i think it takes away a lot of his unsavory aspects but the deep sense of possession and ownership sort of stays. this is a modern au so he's different from canon in many ways.
he has a hard time committing but he also does not do things he doesnt want to so him spending time with you and wanting your loyalty are both genuine desires. he understands why you're entertaining gojo's flirting and rationally knows it's unfair to want loyalty from you.
but he's into you so he gets. fucking pissed anyway. skjsjd. anyways i hope u liked it and i hope it made sense!! i just wanted to add this incase!!!
This is a continuation of my last post, where anon asked about whether Kikyo and Silva would ever share a darling
Tw: kidnapping, dehumanization, pet-play ish, Kikyo is freaky, objectification, their marriage is as strange as the family they've raised, weird jealousy dynamics, weird sexual competing (?), Milluki is a creep
I think Silva and Kikyo could potentially keep a darling together, but the relationship is - odd, to say the least. Silva is significantly more emotionally attached than his wife - he's the one to even bring up the idea, actually, because his marriage to Kikyo has always been about convenience and offspring. And so, when he happens to run into you while he's out on a mission and you catch his eye for whatever reason, it's not exactly hard to bring you back to the mountain, dressing you up in pretty, expensive clothing and luxury lingerie sets underneath.
And frankly, Kikyo is not pleased - she's not exactly in love with Silva either, but she feels that her place as his wife is threatened by your presence, that her position within the Zoldyck family is hanging on by a string because Silva is obviously more charmed and affectionate with you than he is with her. At first she hates you – she’s doing everything in her power to drive you out, to make your life enough of a living hell that you’ll beg Silva to let you leave. (Or perhaps you’ll fall victim to the multitudes of ways she attempts to end your life.)
But though Silva doesn’t like upsetting Kikyo, his feelings for you – romantic, a foreign concept – are strong enough that he’s putting his foot down and stopping Kikyo from doing anything too terribly reckless. He’s always able to tell when she’s poisoned your food, or when she’s rubbed poison ivy all over your nice dresses so that you’ll become swollen and inflamed and hopefully he’ll toss you to the side because he’s disgusted by your appearance. Her attempts don’t work, and if anything it only draws your relationship with Silva closer – because suddenly he’s got you on his lap, your face pressed against his chest while you both ignore the very, very insistent bulge pressing against your crotch, his voice as soft as he can get it while he tells you that Kikyo will not hurt you, I won’t allow it.
And as time passes and he stays true to this promise, Kikyo finds herself slowly giving up. You really aren’t going, huh? He seems to really like you for some unknown reason, and so she instead turns her attention to making sure that even if her status as Silva’s wife is threatened, her status as the mother of the Zoldyck children stays in-tact.
And frankly, once she makes this shift, things change – because Silva spends a majority of his time with you, there’s no insinuations or attempts at stealing Kikyo’s motherly role. You’ve literally never even met most of the kids except for a few brief words over silent, uncomfortable family dinners, and Kikyo is smug about this. At least in this way she’s better than you – she’s a good mother, and you’re what? A good hole for her husband to settle into at night?
It makes her scoff.
Until one day, she notices that you are, begrudgingly, a bit attractive.
Not the beauty Silva seems to believe you are, but there’s something about you that she can’t deny is charming, even if she wants to. And so, as time passes, she slowly warms up to you; except, Kikyo’s version of ‘warming up’ – developing romantic feelings, yet again foreign to her – is transitioning from belittling and yelling at you out of anger to belittling and yelling at you because she wants your attention. She’s clingy, especially since Silva hogs so much of your time, and she relies on criticizing you and ‘reteaching’ you basic manners, skills, even how to dress as she sees fit. Her obsession manifests in making you unwavering obey her every command, the power making her feel giddy and oddly aroused.
And really, that’s a facet of your life as their shared darling that can’t be ignored – while some of the affection and attention you get is as innocent as it can be, given their profession and the fact that you were kidnapped, most of the touches and words and looks you get are anything but. And from both of them, too – each is equally guilty of constantly sexualizing you.
Silva is more traditional in his approach – he requests your presence most nights, staying in his own private chambers with the wooden doors locked tightly, the massive bed with its eerie blue lighting and satin sheets all bunched up and stained with his cum and your slick because he just can’t keep his hands off of you. He’s got you dressed up in nice clothing – revleaing dresses and garter belts hiding just above high slits in the fabric, the sight making him lick his lips and actually want you in a sexual manner, something he’s not used to experiencing. Every moment you spend with him involves his hand on your body somehow, whether it be steady and firm at your hip to remind you of his presence, or pressed against your stomach as he holds you in his lap, his cock stuffed as deep inside as possible while you cockwarm him, your sweet voice filling his ears as he commands you to speak to me, about whatever you like. Just don’t stop talking.
It's strange and it’ll make you think he only wants you as a glorified sex doll, but then he’ll do something small and unexpected that’s almost sweet, that almost seems like a genuine attempt to make you happy – a copy of your favorite book, or a beautiful necklace, or even an offer to spoil you with a private, intimate vacation to a destination of your choice. It’s strange, and while the lingerie sets are not ideal to wear around the mansion (particularly when Milluki is home – the staring is not subtle), Silva is tolerable. At least he normally preps you well before he fucks you.
Kikyo, on the other hand, expresses her attraction to you with much, much more humiliating methods. She’s naturally a bit sadistic, and while she isn’t actively trying to make you uncomfortable, she isn’t afraid to act on some of her more outlandish kinks. In contrast to Silva’s lingerie sets, you’ll be given pretty collars and ball gags and plugs to wear, all in varying shades of purple. (She favors purple because it’s both the family color and her favorite color, making her feel slightly better about her infatuation with you. Plus, she can’t deny how good you look in the eggplant, stain set she got you a few weeks ago, with a crotchless panty and material so thin stretched over your breasts that your nipple is fully visible.
She’ll treat you like a glorified dog at times, physically forcing your head between her legs and telling you to be good, make me feel good, or forcing you to your knees while she steps onto your thighs, a smile curling at her lips when you squirm in discomfort below her. Her overt sexual favors with you are less obvious than Silva’s, but there’s something about her’s that makes you feel weak and horrible and pathetic. And yet, similar to her husband, every once in a blue moon Kikyo is actually nice to you – after you’ve made her come a few times with your mouth, fingers and the toy she’d forced you to use (first in yourself, then in her – without washing it, a concept that’d made her blush heavily under her bandages), she’s breathlessly telling you how good you did, her nails digging into your skin a bit as she clutches onto you, her post-orgasmic high leaving her brain scrambled and praise for you slipping past her lips.
(One time she even tells you that she loves you – she hadn’t spoken to you for a few days afterwards, diligently avoiding you, though you were sure you caught her peeking into Silva’s room one of those night’s her lips parted, cheeks blushed so strongly pink that it extended down to her neck, a hand slipped up her skirt and visibly moving under the fabric. He hadn’t noticed, of course, because he was too busy bouncing you on his cock, eyes too busy staring as your ass jiggled and smacked against his navel as he fucked you in reverse cowgirl, but swear on your life that as soon as you made eye contact with Kikyo through the gap in the doorway, she made this high, whining noise and her knees buckled.
She’d come, from watching her husband fuck you.)
The situation is messy, quite honestly, but with time you’ll settle into it – you don’t have much of a choice, after all, and your presence fills a need that neither of them have been able to find in each other. And isn’t it just so nice to be loved by two people so thoroughly?
Even if you feel like a glorified pet more often than not?
Yandere Wild West Gang - Noncon
Your life is all planned out for you. Marriage. Children. Settling down in your little town and growing old. But a gang of outlaws and their wicked desires change everything.
Tags: (6) yandere males x fem reader, noncon, loss of virginity, choking, spitroast (hell yeah), oral fixation, 12.3k words
I blame the ridiculously talented @fangdokja and The Red Ledger for inspiring this btw.
They came for you in the middle of the day.
Shameless. Better men would at least wait for nightfall, would at least try and hide their intentions behind the cloak of darkness. Not them though.
They kicked the door in when your family was just about ready to eat lunch, the food still steaming and your ma still in her apron.
You didn't even have time to scream.
One outlaw smashed his rifle butt into your pa's temple and the old man was out like a light, still clutching the knife he'd grabbed to defend you. Two others grabbed your mother and shoved her into the pantry, blocked the door with a tipped over cupboard.
You ran. Or tried to at least. They were crowded into your kitchen, laughing as you turned from one to the other.
"No way out, beauty."
"Too late to run now, darlin'. Shoulda started before we even got here if you wanted to get away."
"Look at her all scared. Ain't it just adorable?"
With near identical duster coats and bandanas tied across their faces, you couldn't tell them apart.
They were closing in on you, a little at a time. You tried to fight, to pull away when one of them grabbed you. But they were dust bitten outlaws and you were just a rancher's daughter. It wasn't even a struggle.
The tallest one slammed you down on the kitchen table, his fingers digging into your shoulders and his belt buckle grinding against your ass.
Your mama's good milk jug tumbled off and shattered on the floor. That was what you focused on as they tied your hands behind your back and gagged you. The shards of blue and white ceramic in the puddle of milk.
Not their hands running over your hips, not their laughter. Just the milk and your ma's favourite jug all in pieces.
You could still hear your mother screaming for you when they pulled you outside. That was what hurt the most about that entire awful day. Your mama, pleading and begging and panicking and unable to save you.
Their horses were waiting, another outlaw standing guard with his rifle out.
"Boss, let her ride with me."
"With you? Ain't no way in hell my girl is riding with you."
"Your girl? She ain't yours. Boss, tell 'em she ain't his."
"Runnin' to the boss again? Yellow belly."
It was the tall one who settled the argument. His voice wasn't as rough as the others, but that didn't put you at ease in the slightest.
"She's riding with me."
He still had one hand curled around your upper arm and he pulled you towards his mustang. You dug your heels in as hard as you could, pulled back with all your weight. It just made him sigh.
"Ain't even started yet, and she's already being difficult?"
The outlaw that spoke was already on his stallion. All you could see of his face above the bandana was a pair of blue eyes, lined at the corners. The boss maybe?
"Just some...growing pains. She'll settle down soon enough."
The tall one leaned down and hoisted you over his shoulder. You squirmed and tried to kick your way free, but he kept one arm tight around your knees.
You thought all your panicking would frighten the horses, but no such luck. He tossed you across his saddle and climbed up behind you. The saddle horn dug into your belly until he pulled you into a proper seat, one arm curling around your waist. You could feel his chest against your back, every inch of it firm, hard earned muscle.
He dropped his head and spoke directly into your ear.
"No trying to jump off the horse. No trying to run away. I'm in charge of you until we get back and I won't have you hurt on my watch."
Your only response was to try and smash your head back into his nose. He straightened up just in time and all you managed to do was hurt your own neck.
He sighed again, and spurred his horse forward.
"Well, I suppose it this was easy, it wouldn't be nearly as fun."
The outlaws formed a loose ring around you as you rode. You tried to twist and look back, but your captor was holding you too tight. You didn't even get to see your home shrink into the horizon. Didn't even get that one small goodbye.
They rode for at least two hours, the sun climbing down from its zenith as they took you across rivers and down secret little paths. You knew your ranch and the area around it like the back of your hand, but even you were well and truly lost when you finally arrived.
It was a ranch, but there weren't any cows in the fields or corn growing in neat rows. The house was a big, whitewashed thing. Pretty once, but fallen into disrepair. Just a hideout. Not a place they stayed at for more than a few months.
The blue eyed one pulled you off the horse without breaking a sweat.
You could feel their eyes on you again. God, how many were there? Five? Six?
"You goin' first boss?"
The man looked down at you. He had a hand around your upper arm, but his grip was more firm than rough.
"I reckon I should. Can't trust you lot to be gentle or slow enough."
That made some of them jeer and complain.
"I'll be real sweet, boss. I promise!"
"We can be nice too. Really."
The man snorted. "Nice? I ain't never seen you dogs be nice 'bout nothing. I'll break our filly in. You lot just be patient and don't bother us none."
What were they talking about? You didn't have time to puzzle it out before the boss started pulling you toward the house. Seeing that building looming closer made you start fighting all over again, biting down on your gag and pulling back as much as you could. Like a mustang digging it's feet in.
It didn't last long. The boss leveled a look at you, met your eyes straight on.
"You really gonna be difficult with me, girl?"
Oh, what frightening eyes he had. Bright and clever, a blue so striking you could feel it right through your soul. A mountain lion would have eyes softer than his.
You stopped resisting him. Let him pull you along besides him. What else could you do? He had a gun on his back and a knife in his boot and years of experience wrangling stubborn animals. And you were just a girl out of her depth and far from home.
You didn't see it, but the outlaws looked at each other, impressed. Only the boss could tame a filly with a single look.
The house was much cooler than outside, but the boss didn't give you any time to examine it. Just guided you up the stairs and into a large bedroom. White curtains stirred in the breeze, the bedding neat and clean.
He locked the door behind you. A quiet click that made your heart race.
You jumped when his hands came to rest on your shoulders. You could hear the other outlaws outside, the clink of harnesses and buckles as they let the horses out to pasture.
His hands moved from your shoulders to your upper arms, squeezed.
"Do you know why we took you?"
You shook your head. Ransom, maybe? But your pa was just a run of the mill rancher. Surely there were better targets for quick cash than you.
The outlaw laughed quietly, just a soft breath of amusement.
"Not the faintest clue, huh?"
He let go of you and you heard the soft rustle of material as he shrugged out of his duster.
He turned you around and you finally got to see his face. He'd taken off his Stetson and bandana too, and the man looking back at you was a hardened outlaw in every way. He was a lot older than you, with thick blonde hair going to grey at the edges. Handsome, with a strong jaw covered in light stubble. Grizzled, but muscular and lean for his age.
There was a small, amused smile on his lips.
He kept his hands on your arms and guided you backwards, until your back hit the wall.
"You wanna take a guess? Why'd we ride all the way out to town to steal you?"
Whatever you said was muffled by your gag. He clicked his tongue.
"You're gonna have to use your worlds, darlin'."
He ran his thumb across your cheek, across the gag. "Or maybe not. I like you just like this too."
He was close. Closer than any man had ever been. It was terrifying. Tears spilled down your cheeks, running across your gag and soaking in.
He sighed, caught one on his thumb.
"None of that now girl. I ain't gonna be rough with you. And in time, I reckon you'll come to like it."
Your dress was buttoned at the front, all the way to your neck. He grabbed both sides of your collar and ripped.
You tried to jerk away from him, but he was too close and the only way out was blocked by the wall. Buttons scattered across the room with little plinks.
The only thing keeping your dress on was the fact that your hands were tied behind your back. But the outlaw didn't let that stop him for long.
He leaned down and pulled a knife from his boot.
"Don't squirm 'round and I won't cut you, alright?"
Sound advice, but not something you were about to listen to. You thrashed in his grip, twisting as much as you could. You didn't want that thing anywhere near you.
He grabbed your hair, and yanked your head backwards. You screamed into your gag, your whole scalp aching.
You might have continued fighting, but that's when you felt the cool metal of his knife at your throat. Not the sharp edge, but still enough of a reminder to keep you still.
"Good. Not so hard, is it?"
The knife moved away from your neck and to your sleeve. He slipped the blade between your skin and the fabric and yanked upwards.
Your sleeve tore with an ugly ripping sound, all the way down to the wrist. You whined into your gag, but he ignored you and repeated it on the other side.
He was breathing heavier now, even though the work of keeping you still couldn't have been much of a challenge for a man as strong as him. He put the handle of his knife in his mouth and used both hands to pull your dress off you. It pooled at your ankles, ruined.
You still had your chemise, but the thin white fabric was almost as bad as being naked. Your nipples poked through and he narrowed in on them, one hand coming up to cup your breast. His teeth were biting into the handle of his knife, hard enough to leave indents in the wood. Like a man struggling to control himself. He breathed out slowly, just feeling the weight of your tits in his palms.
You were crying so hard you almost couldn't see his face. A mixture of pity and want.
He kneeled down to put his knife away and stayed on his knees, hands coming to your hips. He looked up at you, blue eyes bright with something you didn't yet know how to recognise. Lust. Want.
His thumbs stroked circles into your skin, your chemise the only barrier between you and him.
"If I was a better man, I'd almost be sorry about this."
He grabbed your leg and hooked your thigh over his shoulder. You almost stumbled, forced to keep your back against the wall if you didn't want to loose your balance.
His fingers gathered your chemise from the hem up, pinning it at your waist with his palms. You were wearing stockings, simple white ones that reached your mid thigh, and plain lace garters.
All in all, it was a damn nice framing for your bare cunt.
God, he could practically feel his mouth watering.
He didn't give you any warning. Just slipped his tongue between your lips. Hot, wet, like nothing you'd ever felt. You tried to squirm away, practically tried to climb up the wall to get away from him. But he had you trapped, one massive palm on your hip and the other on your thigh.
He found your hole real easy. Slipped his tongue all the way in, the bridge of his nose grinding into your clit. You whined at him to stop it, to please just let you go, but with the gag, all he heard was a pretty little sound that made him keep going.
He sucked on your clit, his jawline standing out in sharp relief. His stubble scraped your thighs. So masculine, so unbearably, overwhelmingly manly.
With the way he held you still, you couldn't do anything except take it. Feel even inch of his tongue, feel his hot breath on your skin, feel his nails scraping your thigh. You wanted to hate it. You wanted to be disgusted by it.
But oh, it felt good.
Sometimes, when the neighbour's handsome son came over, you'd feel a little throbbing ache between your legs. This was exactly like that, cranked up to a thousand.
You whined again, and he must have been the Devil's own son, because he just doubled down. Swirled the flat of his tongue across your whole clit and then ran it down all the way to you ass.
You thighs were shaking, and the pit of your stomach felt tight with something your couldn't explain.
"That's my girl." He sounded pleased, smug. Practically cooing at you in his rough baritone. "Feels real good, don't it?"
If he didn't break soon, you felt like your whole body would. Something inside you was building, getting closer to the edge. And you were terrified of it. You breath was coming hard and fast.
Mercifully, he pulled away. Kissed the triangle of your pussy and then your inner thigh. You could feel his teeth against your skin when he smiled.
"Not yet. I ain't nearly close to done with you."
He stood and you weren't sure whether to be thankful or upset. You felt woozy, hot. Like heat stroke, or like getting drunk.
His mouth and chin glistened. He rubbed it dry on his palm, smirking all the while.
"I bet you feel real empty inside, huh sweetheart?"
You nodded your head, not sure where he was going with this. You did feel empty. There was a hot, throbbing itch in your stomach that you had no idea how to scratch.
"Aww, poor thing. I can take care of that for you."
His hands moved to his belt, blue eyes pinning you to the wall. When he smiled, there were lines around his eyes. They should have been comforting, a mark of someone who laughed often and laughed easy. They weren't.
You shook your head, pleading with your eyes. The tears were starting to come again, thick and fast. For a second or two, with his tongue deep in your core, you'd forgotten that he'd want something in exchange.
His eyes hardened, his smile not moving an inch.
"I will take care of it, girl. You can cry if you want, but we've come too far to stop now."
He grabbed your thigh and pulled your leg up, forced you back against the wall. Your whole cunt was wet and glistening with his spit.
Something hot and hard rubbed between your pussy lips. You shuddered, tried to move away. His other arm came around your waist and he pulled you against his chest. The smell of him was overwhelming - gunpowder and leather and whiskey. He smelled like a man. He smelled like your ruin.
Your forehead fell against his collarbone, and his chin came to rest on the crown of your head. The same way a father might hold his daughter after a nightmare.
But there was nothing fatherly about the cock nudging at your entrance.
"Shhh, you're okay. It ain't gonna hurt."
Liar. Terrible, heartless liar.
He pushed in and it felt like your whole body was splitting apart. It burned.
You sobbed into his chest, not entirely sure what was happening to you. This was the sort of thing that was only whispered about. The sort of thing that was kept vague for good, obedient girls until their wedding nights. The only thing you knew for a fact was that it hurt and you wanted it to stop.
He groaned, pressed a kiss against your hair.
"Sweet little thing, ain't ya? Gonna be good 'fer me? Gonna take it nice and deep?"
You couldn't answer. There was only the stretch of his cock inside you and the oppressive tightness of his arms.
He set a slow, drawn out pace. Cock pulling all the way out to the tip and then sliding right back in. You could feel every inch.
Not gentle, but not needlessly mean either. You were shivering in his arms, pussy fluttering like a heartbeat around him.
No one but him knew how fucking difficult it was to keep so slow. Tight, tiny little thing bleeding and crying all over him. Any red blooded man would want to rut into you like a stallion. See just how many tears he could wring out of you.
It was only experience and determination that held him back. If he was a younger man...
It was the right decision to have you first. Not even his second in command - that tall bastard with all the self control in the world - could have managed this.
He huffed out a laugh.
"You're little too young for me, doll. Reckon I could be your father."
He slid back inside you, grinding against your clit in a way that made you whimper.
"Shitty fucking father though. To be doing this to my little girl."
He let go of waist and cupped your jaw in his palm. Tilted your head back, his nose and lips skimming up your neck. You smelled so fucking good. Nothing in this world was as sweet as a needy, crying girl.
"You gonna call me daddy, little girl? Gonna beg me to be nice and let you go?"
You whimpered, a pathetic little sound through the gag. It only made him smile against your neck.
"Thaaat's it. Just take it. Let me break you in. Gonna be all stretched out and sweet when I'm done with you, yeah?"
He sucked at your neck, at the delicate spot where your shoulder started to slope away. A little immature maybe, to want to mark you up like an animal, but wasn't he being plenty mature already? Wasn't he being just saintly in his patience?
"Fuck, you're getting close, ain'tcha? Can feel you gettin' all tight."
He pulled back to look into your eyes, overflowing with tears and just so damn scared.
"You ain't got no idea what's 'bout to happen, do ya?"
He pulled almost all the way out, and then slammed back in, hard. Your tits jumped and your eyes fluttered shut.
"Just relax and let it happen. It's gonna feel reeaal good."
You tilted your head back and he followed you, lips right back at your throat.
He picked up the pace, trying not to be too rough and slowly failing. The closer he got to his own end, the less important kindness seemed. It wasn't long 'fore he was slamming into you so hard he could feel your tits bouncing. His breath was coming fast, each exhale almost a growl.
"Take it, just like that. C'mon doll, just let me fuck you. Just let me make you mine."
You bit down on your gag and came. Your whole body shook, your nails digging into your palms. You didn't now what he'd done to you, but you couldn't stop it. Your pussy was a clenching, sensitive mess. You felt light headed enough to faint. And the only sound and thought in your head was his voice, right in your ear and rough with barely held back want.
"That's my girl. My good fucking girl."
A good man might have slowed down then. Might have realised just how sensitive you were. He didn't. He kept pistoning his cock into you, fucked you through your orgasm.
You writhed on his dick, in pain and overwhelmed and more scared than you'd ever been. And all of it just served to make him harder, to bring him closer. Even he had to admit he was a bastard for enjoying it so much. He didn't deserve something so sweet. All he deserved in life was a short dance with a noose. But who gave a fuck about that? He'd taken you, he'd stolen you, and like any good thief, he was going to enjoy you.
You felt it when he came. His cock pulsed and twitched inside you, and something hot dripped down your thigh.
He pressed his forehead against yours, hands so tight on you that you felt bruised.
He came down slowly. Kept you plugged up with his cock while he softened. The only sound in the room was his harsh breathing. You couldn't even cry anymore. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep and make the pain disappear.
He pulled back and tilted your chin up.
"Look at me."
You opened your eyes, tears still caught in your lashes.
"There she is. Ain't so bad, is it?"
All you could do was sniffle and hope he was bored of you.
He let you down carefully. You weren't steady on your feet at all.
"I've had a lot of blood on my cock over the years, darlin', but I reckon yours is the finest."
He kissed you. You were still gagged, so it was less a kiss and more so his lips pressing against yours.
When he finally stepped away from you, you almost wanted him back. You sank down to your knees, too dizzy to stand.
"Poor thing. Too much to handle, doll?"
He ran his fingers through your hair.
"You did so good, princess. Now just stay so sweet, and the rest of this day will go a hell of a lot easier for you."
You were too out of it to figure out what he meant. You closed your eyes and heard his spurs jingling as he walked away. The door creaked open and then he was gone.
You might have tried to run for it, but you ached so bad that even the thought of it was painful. Your hands were still tied as tight as they were before.
You didn't notice the footsteps or the voices until they were right outside the door.
"So much for bein' nice. Boss left her a right mess."
"Better than you woulda done. Least she's still in one piece."
They came to stand in front of you, two men with their bandanas pulled down around their throats.
You recognised their voices. These two were the most quarrelsome of the bunch. They still had their gun belts on, both of them carrying revolvers. Gunslingers then. Every gang had them.
"Look at her already on her knees 'fer us."
"Why you cryin' pretty girl? Was the boss too mean with ya?"
You looked up slowly. Boots first - silver spurs, well worn leather. Then their belts. And finally, their faces.
One was dark skinned, a crescent scar on his cheek and his hair cropped short. He rubbed his jaw as he looked at you, a half smile showing pearly white teeth.
"Oh, would ya look at those eyes? A man could drown in 'em."
The other was tanned golden with the sun, his eyes a pale green. He was still wearing his Stetson, and his dark hair was long enough to brush his shoulders.
"Boss must be getting old. He left some of her clothes on."
That made the dark one laugh. "Nah, I reckon it's meant to be a treat just 'fer us. Like unwrapping a present on Christmas mornin'."
The green eyed one squated down in front on you and grabbed your jaw. His hands were rough from labour, and his callouses scraped your skin. Whatever he saw in your eyes made him smile, but it didn't have a lick of kindness in it.
"Look at that...Boss really did break you in, didn't he filly?"
He stood and pulled you up with him, hand still clutching your jaw.
"I reckon she's gonna be real sweet to us. Gonna be all nice and obedient."
The other one came to stand behind you, his fingertips brushing the nape of your neck as he moved your hair out of the way.
"That right, filly? You gonna be all sweet?"
The green eyed one nodded your head for you. His eyes had a certain cruelty to them that made you want to step away. He seemed the type to use spurs and whips both, and to use them often.
He let go of your jaw and focused on the rest of you. And oh, what a lovely sight you were. All tied up and crying, your tits just visible through your chemise. A little virgin about to loose the rest of your innocence to his teeth. A fucking vision, a fucking dream.
He pinched one of your nipples and rolled it between his fingers. Your thin chemise wasn't any protection at all.
"Sensitive, ain'tcha?"
You whined. Not sure whether to pull away or step closer.
The gunslinger behind you wasn't in the mood to be left out. As his partner tugged and played with your nipples, his hands came to rest on your waist. And what huge hands they were. You could feel the heat of him even through your clothes.
He dropped his head to the nape of your neck and inhaled, his nose buried in your hair.
When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble.
"What do you want?"
The green eyed one looked you up and down, weighing his options. Finally, he smiled.
"I'll take her mouth."
Your whole body went cold. He couldn't mean...
"Hmm. That's fine with me." His hands dropped from your waist to your ass, squeezing. "I want to have her from the back anyway."
They must have been in perfect sync with each other. The one in front of you stood aside and the one behind you pushed you towards the bed. You stumbled, landed on the duvet chin first, your teeth slamming together despite the gag.
You didn't have time to push yourself up before they were tearing your chemise off. The thin straps ripped and your last bit of modesty floated to the floor in a tattered white heap. You were left in just your stockings.
The dark one pulled you up by your hips, one hand grabbing the rope around your wrists to keep you steady.
Smack.
Your whole body jerked forward, your ass cheek stinging.
One of them laughed, mocking. "Bet that'll leave a mark."
The dark one ran his palm over the welt, smiling though you couldn't see it.
"We promised the boss we would be nice, remember?"
The green eyed one circled the bed. You could feel his eyes on you, drinking in your naked skin, your stockings, the tears soaking your gag.
His hands were on his belt. Not undoing it yet, just watching you.
"Y'know, I give that tall bastard a lot of shit, but even I gotta say he was right this time. She's a real cute thing."
The man behind you was still stroking your ass, squeezing and watching your flesh give under his fingers. So soft, so fucking pliable.
He hummed quietly, more concerned with you than with his partner. He slipped his thumb down between your cheeks, catching on your asshole for a second. That sent a jolt of panic through you. They wouldn't...
He must have felt you moving, because he sighed and let his fingers continue downwards. Smearing cum and blood across your pussy lips.
"Not today," he said, soft enough for just you to hear. "Boss wouldn't like that."
That wasn't reassuring to hear. It meant that he still wanted it. Wanted to fuck your virgin ass without any care for the pain, for the hurt. The thing stopping him wasn't empathy, but obedience.
He rubbed tight, harsh circles into your clit. You were still sensitive and you pleaded into your gag, asking him to be just a bit more gentle. Either he couldn't understand you or didn't bother to even hear you, because he carried on, fingerpads rough as sandpaper.
The green eyed one noticed though. He seemed to notice just about everything.
"Want me to take that gag off sweetheart?"
You nodded your head frantically. The sides of your lips felt raw and you couldn't stand the taste of it.
He kneeled with one leg on the bed and undid the material. When he pulled it away, thin lines of spit followed.
You sucked in a lungful of air, coughing. He gathered your hair out of your face, held it all in a loose fist at the back of your head.
"All better?"
Maybe you were wrong about him. Maybe he wasn't so bad.
"...yes." You swallowed, your voice still hoarse. "Thank you."
He tilted his head, smirking.
"So polite. Boss really did a number on ya, huh? Or are ya just a well bred little lady?"
You didn't get a chance to answer, because the other gunslinger ground his palm against your cunt. You yelped and jerked forward on instinct.
The green eyed one tightened his hold on your hair.
"None of that. You can take it."
"I can't! It hurts."
His free hand tugged at his belt, pulling it free of the belt loops. You blanched. What the hell did he need that for?
"Ain't even been a minute and you're already whining? C'mon pretty, there's better things to do with your mouth than that."
He let go of your hair long enough to loop the belt around your neck, the leather wrapped around his fist. He tugged and it tightened, metal buckle pressing icy cold against your skin.
He pulled upwards, forced you to look at him. His cat eyes were mean, amused at seeing you leashed.
"You even think 'bout usin' your teeth and I'll pull this so tight you won't even be able to think 'bout breathing. Got it?"
What was he talking about? Your teeth?
Your answer came soon enough. With his belt off, it was real easy for him to take his cock out. He sighed, relieved to have it free.
The only thing keeping you in place was the belt around your neck. Even still, you pulled backwards until you couldn't go any further.
It was huge.
Thick, with veins running all the way to the tip. That was supposed to fit inside of you? You'd never seen a man's cock before. Even when the boss fucked you, you'd only felt it. No fucking wonder it hurt so bad, if they were all this size.
It was horrifying, and still you couldn't look away.
"Ain't it a sight?"
He grabbed it with his free hand and yanked your head down with the belt, until the tip brushed your lips.
"Come have a closer look."
Maybe if your hands were free, you'd be able to pull away. But as it was, you were staying balanced only because of his grip on the belt and his partner's grip on your arms.
He rubbed the tip across your lips, leaving behind a sticky coating of precum.
"Don't be shy," he purred, "Give it a little kiss."
The belt tightened until you listened. You pecked the side of it, where it wasn't so gross and sticky.
"Atta girl. Now open wide."
You desperately didn't want to. He tasted of salt, and his cock was so hard that you couldn't even imagine how it would fit.
You didn't want to, but what choice did you have?
You opened your mouth and he pushed himself past your lips with a groan. The tip scraped against your tongue, soft as velvet and tasting like the sea.
He let go of his dick and tangled his hand in your hair, pushing your head lower. Until the tip brushed the back of your throat. You gagged, shivering all around him.
"God, your mouth is fucking heaven sent."
He pulled out slowly, until it was just the tip sitting in your mouth.
"Are you gonna join me or what?"
The other gunslinger snorted.
"Fucking impatient. You gotta treat a lady gentle on her first time."
You heard the rustle of clothing behind you, and the hand that was playing with your cunt came to rest on your hip, fingers digging into the flesh for a good grip.
Your cunt felt cold without his touch, but his fingers were quickly replaced with his cock. The head nudged at your entrance, hot enough that you could practically feel it radiating. The leaking pre mixed with the sticky come already on your lips, thin strands of white pulling and breaking as he settled himself against you.
You wanted to say something, anything, to make them stop, but the gunslinger still had his dick in your mouth.
"Hmmm. Nice and warm and I ain't even pushed inside yet."
"Ain't she? Like she was made for us."
His hand slid from your hair to you jaw, thumb tracing your cheek. He could see the bulge of his cock against your cheek - it made you look a little chipmunk getting all cozy and ready for winter. Your tears were caught on your lashes, silver dew drops like you just took a swim.
"You heard me, baby? You're made for us. Made to fuck us and keep us happy. Our little lady."
They both pushed into you at the same time.
Thick cock bullying into you, trapping you between them with nowhere to go. You wanted to scream, but you couldn't. You couldn't even think. Couldn't even breathe.
The green eyed cowboy pulled on your leash and forced you to tilt your head back, bare your throat to him. He pushed deeper into you, until his dick was down your throat and your nose was brushing the hard muscles of his stomach.
He held you there, cock down your throat and tears collecting in your eyes, while his partner started thrusting.
You couldn't breathe.
You couldn't pull away, couldn't fight him. You could just look up at him, eyes all wide and scared. Your panic was thick in your blood and he drank it in.
Smirking, keeping you at his mercy. He knew you couldn't breathe, and he still held you on his cock.
Your heart was racing and you felt light headed before he finally pulled out. You gasped, thick strings of spit connecting you. He only gave you enough time to catch a few deep breaths before he was back in your mouth, thrusting. Going just as deep but thankfully pulling out.
You gagged and choked and felt like you were drowning on his cock. And all the while, his partner yanked you back and slammed balls deep into you.
It was too much. You couldn't focus on anything. You were limp in their hands, letting them fuck you and just trying to survive it.
You weren't sure how long it took. Your whole world was narrowed down to just them - their hands on you, getting tighter and meaner the closer they got to coming.
The one fucking you from the back let go of your hip and curled his whole arm around your waist, leaning over you until his lips were on your neck. Fucking you hunched over like a dog in heat.
He bit your shoulder, sunk his teeth in with a snarl.
They didn't talk much anymore. There weren't any words left. Just the need to fuck and claim and come.
The sounds were the worst. The slick squelching of a cock in your cunt, the slap of skin on skin, the heavy snarls for you to take it like a good girl. And their raspy breathing, like stallions after a gallop.
The gunslinger pulled harder on your leash, keeping you still while he fucked your face. He's teeth were gritted tight, his eyes narrowed and focused entirely on you.
The dark one must have hit something deep inside you, because you made a whining, moaning sort of noise that vibrated all through his cock.
That was what did it. He forced his cock all the way down your throat, held you in place while he came.
When he pulled out, you were coughing so hard your whole chest ached.
That's when you felt it - hot spunk splattering all over your asshole. Your whole body shuddered at the feeling.
The man behind you kissed your back between your shoulder blades and slowly moved down. When he came to your ass cheeks, he sunk his teeth in with a playful growl.
He flipped you onto your back, and you sunk bonelessly down onto the covers. Your nipples were tender and your neck was a patchwork of marks.
The dark skinned one flopped down next to you and threw a possessive arm around your waist. He hummed, pleased as a bear before winter.
"Best fuck I've had in ages."
His partner was silent, his fingers toying with the belt still around your neck. You tilted your head back to look at him.
He was smiling, not soft exactly but about as close as a cruel bastard like him could get. He was so handsome, when he wasn't trying to choke you.
He sighed and let his fingers drift up your cheeks.
"I wish we could stay, pretty. But the day ain't done just yet."
The other one grumbled. "Can't we just lay here for a bit? I've got my girl all nice and snug. Why should I let her go?"
"Boss's orders, that's why. We gotta play nice and share."
"Why? Those bastards don't deserve her."
"And we do?"
He didn't bother to answer, just pushed himself to his elbows and looked down at you. His eyes were a deep brown. Sweet, almost.
"No," he said quietly, "We don't."
He leaned down and kissed your cheek. Soft, like a husband would. He stood and only looked back at you when he was at the door. Hard man, killer and gunslinger that he was, you thought you saw just a little guilt in his eyes.
When he was gone, the green eyed gunslinger ran his hands through your hair.
"He's right, y'know. We don't deserve a girl like you."
There wasn't any guilt in his voice, just a deep sense of satisfaction.
"But we've got you anyway. If the world gave folk what they deserved, you'd never have been so unlucky to catch our eye in the first place."
He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your other cheek, and then nipped at your jaw. A coyote savouring a bone.
"You'll learn to take it, sweetheart. And when I'm done, you'll learn to like it."
He left his belt around your neck and let the door slam shut behind him.
You could hear when they joined the others out in the yard. Their laughter drifted up to you, sharp as a wild dog's bark.
You closed your eyes. On your back in nothing but your stockings and a leash. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd ever imagined as a possibility. Hell, a lot of today was filled with things you'd never even thought about.
You hurt in just about every place. But parts of you throbbed with a pain that wasn't entirely unwanted.
Traitorous body, traitorous mind.
You couldn't possibly like this. You were being used by criminals, killers. Your virginity was just another prize for them to steal. You were a good girl, raised in a good home with upright, moral parents. You weren't some lady of the night, some harlot, to enjoy their roughness.
Right?
When the door sighed open, you didn't even bother to open your eyes.
"These young ones don't know any gentleness, eh beauty?"
His voice was calm. The sort of soft tone you'd use with a filly still nervous 'bout the bit.
You could hear his footsteps. Heavy boots but no spurs.
You flinched when he touched the belt around your neck, but he didn't do much more than run his fingers across the leather.
"Let's get this off you. Idiots. You don't harness a creature so fine."
He pulled it off your neck carefully and then touched the bruises it left behind.
"Open your eyes for me, beauty. Let me see you."
You almost didn't. What more was there to see? Another man with too tight hands and a hunger that wouldn't end?
It was his voice that did it. So kind. No growl behind the words, no clenched teeth snarl.
The first thing you saw were his eyes. A dark hazel, like an eagle's.
"Ah, just as pretty as I thought. Do you want to sit up for me? Those ropes must be hurting something awful by now."
He was older than you, but not by too much. Older than the gunslingers, but not nearly as old as the boss. His hair was tied in braid that fell almost all the way down his back. Lakota, if you had to guess, or maybe Crow.
There was a pair of workman's gloves shoved in the pocket of his jeans, but he didn't carry a pistol. The wrangler most likely.
You sat up slowly, wary. He didn't seem awfully worked up about a naked woman sprawled on the bed in front of him. Maybe he wasn't so bad...
He untied your hands without letting his own wander.
You flexed your fingers and carefully brought your hands to your lap. Your shoulders ached from being stuck in one position for so long.
"Will you let me go?"
"Oh, beauty." He touched his knuckles to your cheek. "That's what you want, isn't it? To go back home?"
"Yes." Your throat felt tight with tears. "More than anything."
He closed his eyes.
"It hurts to see you cry, beauty. It hurts to see these marks on you. But even if I was the only one holding you back, even if it was entirely up to me... I wouldn't."
"Are you going to do the same thing as the rest of them?"
He held your face in his palms, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. He smiled, but it was awfully sad.
"It's been real long time since I've had a woman, beauty. And never one so fine. I'm still just a man."
You were crying again, though you didn't realise it. Tears washing hot over his fingers.
"Shhh." He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'll be gentle. I won't hurt you."
He undid his belt slowly, eyes on you the entire time. You were on your knees again, your stockings making you look oh so innocent and oh so filthy all at once.
He grabbed your hand before he took his cock out. You pulled away, but his grip was too strong. Not rough, not hurting you. Just too firm to escape.
He brought you hand to his crotch, pressed your palm against his cock. Even through the thick denim of his jeans, you could feel how hard it was.
"All your doing, beauty. That's all your fault."
He undid the last button and his dick pushed it's way free. Big and no less intimidating for being the second one today. His fingers were knotted between yours and he dragged your hand up his shaft. He sighed, a man finally getting release.
"Here, this will go faster if you use your mouth."
His other hand came to rest on the nape of your neck. Not forcing you down exactly, but heavy, inexorable. Trying to refuse him was like fighting the pull of the moon.
He didn't force himself into you like the gunslinger did. Just kept using your hand - still dry - to stroke himself.
"Come now beauty. Just a little lick and it will all be over. You want that, don't you?"
You did. You wanted this day to end.
You cautiously licked the head of his cock, your tongue almost blistering hot. He groaned and for just a second, the hand on your nape tightened. Like he really did just want to pull you onto him and have his own way.
"There you go. Not so terrible, is it?"
It wasn't. He tasted salty, but not in an unpleasant way. And hearing him groan like that made some part of your gut flutter.
You felt just a little braver. When he pulled you closer, you let him. He rubbed the tip against your lips, smearing pre-cum all over them.
You didn't want his cock down your throat. Didn't want to feel like you were choking. But everything he'd done to you so far had been miles different to the gunslingers. Maybe he'd be different in this too.
Slowly, you opened your mouth. You expected him to shove himself inside you, betray the tiny bit of trust he'd built.
He didn't. Instead, he stood perfectly still. He even stopped using your hand, though he kept it wrapped around the base. Just letting you get comfortable. Letting you explore.
It was what your daddy did when he was working to tame a colt. He'd let them get used to him a little at a time, until they didn't mind his touch at all.
You were too nervous to take him in much deeper than the tip. But he didn't complain at all, just watched you with those golden eyes.
You sucked on him. Just the tip, but you wrapped your lips around him and treated it like it was candy. You flicked your tongue across the underside of his head, eyes locked on his to see if he liked it.
And from the way his breathing was picking up, you reckoned he liked it plenty.
Hadn't the gunslinger wanted you to kiss his? Maybe that's what men wanted. You pulled off his cock with a wet little pop and turned your attention to his shaft. You kissed him - small, shy little pecks all the way down to his hand and then back up again.
He was smiling, head tilted. He almost seemed amused.
"So that's how you like it, huh?"
You hummed, not sure how to respond. Both the gunslingers and the boss kept getting faster the closer they were to finishing. Maybe if you used your hand...
He seemed surprised when you moved your palm, but it didn't last long. When he was sure of what you were doing, he let go of your hand and let you do it all by yourself.
There was a lot of friction and you couldn't go as fast as you wanted without yanking on him. You needed some kind of lube, something to make him all slick...
Oh.
Of course.
You licked him, all the way from balls to tip, trying to drool on his cock as much as possible. He shivered, voice getting just a bit tighter.
"Careful girl. You're playing with fire."
You didn't know what he meant. All you wanted was to finish this. Be able to rest and dream sweet dreams, dreams without men's hands on your body.
His cock was wet with your spit and when you started using your hand, it squelched lewdly.
He groaned, his hand coming to your jaw and his thumb tracing your lips.
"Open your mouth for me, beauty."
You did. You couldn't look away from his eyes. That burnished gold like dead man's treasure.
He pressed his thumb against your tongue, ran it over your teeth. He seemed just as captivated by you as you were by him. The men outside were laughing again, voices raised and vulgar. But he didn't for a second look away from you.
He smiled and said something to you in a language you didn't understand.
Your hand was moving a lot faster now that you'd found your stride, your thumb brushing over his slit on every third stroke. The only sign that he was getting closer was his breathing.
At the last second, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and rested his tip against your lips.
Hot spunk shot at you, some of it dribbling down your chin and some of it coating your tongue. He groaned, jaw clenched tight. He was panting like a dog on a hot day, still looking at you like you were the finest thing he'd ever seen.
He pulled his cock away and replaced it with his thumb, smearing his load between your lips and across your teeth. He spoke in his language again, words just a little more forceful than before.
You thought he was done with you. Thought he'd be satisfied with leaving.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed you. One hand was still on your nape and you had no room to pull away.
It was your first proper kiss. He was hungry, his tongue scraping across your teeth. One hand came to rest behind you on the bed, and he slowly forced you down, still caught between his lips and his hand.
He ended up between your legs, still not letting you go even though you were both almost out of breath.
"Beauty," he muttered, lips pressing against on yours.
When he finally broke away, he didn't go far. He rested his forehead to yours, breathing hard. You were sharing the same air, in that tight little space. And somehow that felt more intimate than anything else the outlaws had done to you.
He was practically lying on top of you, the hand that held your neck now tangled in your hair, and his other at your waist. He held you like a lover would.
A lover. Would you ever have one, if they let you go? Who would want you after your virgin's blood was spilled?
He kissed your cheek, slow and lingering.
"Oh beauty, how can I be so lucky?"
He didn't let you go. Just held you underneath him and laid his head on the side of your neck.
You were tense, muscles all coiled and ready to be hurt. But in his arms, you relaxed a little at a time without even realising it. This man wouldn't hurt you, whatever his reasons were.
His dark hair had come loose from it's braid and you absentmindedly brushed it off his brow. That made him smile just a little.
It had grown quiet outside and the only sound was of the breeze rustling the curtains and his soft breathing.
"How did such a kind man become an outlaw?"
You didn't really mean to ask that. And kind couldn't be applied to him without qualifiers. But in the face of everything that had happened to you, his softness was saintly.
He hummed against your neck.
"Bad luck. Bad people. Having nowhere to go back to. It changes you."
You swallowed, sad though you weren't sure why.
"I'm sorry."
He pushed himself up and looked into your eyes.
"Don't be. You're my reward, my reparation."
He brushed his knuckles across your cheek again. "I've waited my whole life for you."
You wanted to ask why. What made you so special? Why did he want to keep you?
The door opened with a bang.
"Are ya really still busy? That ain't fuckin' fair."
The gunslingers were standing in the door, both of them looking irritated. Your whole body tensed. They couldn't be back so soon, could they?
The wrangler pushed himself to his knees. The way he was sitting, your hips ended up on his lap with your legs on either side of him. He put a hand on your thigh absent-mindedly.
When he looked back at them, any softness in him drained away. He was just another outlaw with hard eyes.
"Is it the boy? Boss is really letting you go through with it?"
"It's 'bout time he became a man. And you're the one who was goin' on 'bout playing nice."
The wrangler sighed and looked back at you. When he spoke, it was just for you to hear.
"I don't want to leave you, beauty. But boss's orders."
He leaned down and kissed you, ignoring the gunslingers' cat calls.
When he stood up, you had half a mind to ask him to stay. You almost reached for him. But the gunslingers were watching you and something in you whispered that showing him favour was a terrible idea. You kept your hands knotted in the sheets. For both your sakes.
When he was gone, you sat up and pushed yourself all the way back to the headboard. Hugged your knees to your chest. You hadn't noticed him earlier, but the gunslingers had a boy with them.
They were half dragging him into the room, one with his hand on the boy's nape and the other with a fist in his shirt.
He was young, barely past eighteen. Slightly built, with pale eyes and bronze curls. He wasn't looking at you. Or more accurately, he was doing everything possible to avoid looking at you.
The gunslingers gave him a rough shove and he landed on the bed, bouncing a little before he pushed himself up.
"Gonna get your first taste of a woman boy, and she's a real fine one."
The green eyed gunslinger leaned over and grabbed your ankle. With one brutal yank, he dragged you away from the headboard and all the way to the foot of the bed.
"Missed me, sweetheart? 'Cause I sure missed you."
He caught one of your wrists and tutted.
"Just like him to let you loose. Fuckin' hell, don't he realise how much easier you are when you're all tied up?"
He knelt with one boot on the mattress and pulled you up, twisting your arm behind your back so you ended up with your head tucked under his chin.
"We was feelin' real bad 'bout hurting you, pretty. So we thought we'd make it up to you. Brought you somethin' you'll really enjoy."
You were skeptical of anything he did. He wasn't the charitable kind.
The boy finally looked at you. His eyes were round, nervous.
"Do... do you want this?"
The gunslinger slapped a palm over your mouth before you could answer him, dragging you closer to him at the same time.
" 'Course she wants it. She'd be fighting a whole lot harder if she didn't. Ain't that right?"
"Would be clawing our eyes out if she really didn't want it," the other gunslinger agreed.
The boy looked rightly skeptical. You were crying an awful lot for someone who "wanted it."
"But..."
The dark skinned gunslinger sighed and grabbed the boy's neck.
"Look at her. You're tellin' me you ain't getting just a little hard seeing her like that?"
"Yes but -"
"But what? You want her. And she's right there for the taking. It ain't complicated."
The man holding you was obviously getting impatient.
"You wanna be a man? Wanna come on jobs with us? Than fucking earn it."
That seemed to decide him. He crawled towards you, just as scared to touch you as you were to be touched.
"What do I do?"
"Open her legs and start eating."
He touched your knee. He gulped, focused entirely on the feel of you. He slowly let his hands drift up your thighs.
When he reached your mid thighs, he tried to pull them apart just a little. You kept your legs as tightly closed as you could. Whatever you tried to say was muffled by the gunslinger's hand, but it was enough to make the boy look up at your face.
You could see it in his eyes. The desire to have you and the horror at knowing this was all forced. In the end, guilt won.
"I can't."
He pulled away from you, his fingers shaking.
"She doesn't want this. How can you hold her down and make her take it?"
The dark skinned gunslinger clicked his teeth in annoyance.
"God, could you be any more pathetic? It don't matter what she wants. All that matters is that you're strong enough to take what you want."
The boy was almost off the bed when the gunslinger grabbed his hair and yanked him back.
"It's a lesson you gotta learn boy. Or you ain't gonna live long in this business."
The boy yelped, hands coming up to try and pull himself loose. You could have told him it was useless - you couldn't escape their hold no matter how hard you fought.
He dragged the boy across the bed and back to you.
The gunslinger holding you could see where this was going and he laughed, mean and mocking.
"Gonna be the hard way, eh?"
His hand dropped from your mouth and curled around your throat. He squeezed, just hard enough to remind you of his strength.
"Be a good little pet and open your legs."
You didn't. Hadn't they done enough already? They'd ruined you. Why not just leave the boy alone?
The gunslinger growled. "Ain't listening so well without my belt around your throat, is that it?"
He twisted your arm further up your back, until your whole shoulder was throbbing. You squirmed, arching against him to get the pressure off.
"Do I gotta teach you a whole new lesson in obedience? I promise I'm a much harder master than the boss."
He let go of you throat and grabbed your thigh, his fingers digging into the meat. His partner was quick to do the same on your other leg. It wasn't any good fighting them. They weren't scared of hurting you and they didn't care if they left bruises.
They wrenched your thighs apart and the gunslinger shoved the boys head between your legs.
"You ain't scared of a lil' blood, are ya? Clean her up nice and good."
The boy looked up at you with tears brimming in his waterline.
"I'm sorry."
He didn't have the boss's skill. His tongue was soft, hesitant. Probing, but totally unsure what to do.
You shivered at the feeling of his lips on your clit, his warm breath tickling your thighs.
The gunslinger growled and pushed him further down, until his nose was grinding into your folds.
"She ain't gonna get away. Use your whole tongue, suck on her, bite. Fuck's sake, do we gotta do everything for you?"
The one at your back laughed and nipped your cheek.
"She wants it though. Just look at those pretty tears."
The boy whimpered but did as he was told, dragging his tongue all the way up. His hands came to rest on your thighs, skin so much softer than the other men's.
His teeth brushed your clit and you gasped. The boy froze.
And then, he did it again.
You shuddered, thighs shaking just a little. He didn't seem to notice it, but his grip on your legs was getting tighter. He focused on the sensitive spot he'd found, raking his tongue across it.
You made another small, involuntary sound.
The man at your back purred. "There. Ain't that sweet to hear?"
The boy started to suck on your clit, tongue hot and wet. He pushed himself deeper, his nose and chin both buried in your cunt. He didn't even notice when the gunslinger let go of his hair.
He curled his arm around your lower back and pulled you closer to him, almost lifting you off the bed. The wet sounds of his sucking filled the room.
The gunslinger let go of you thigh, satisfied that the boy had a good grip on you. He kissed the corner of your lips, his hand coming up to play with your tits.
"Y'know, we never did get to make you come. Can't help wonderin' what you sound like."
You kept your jaw clenched tight. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction.
He must have read your mind, because he chuckled. Pinched your nipple hard enough that you bucked in his grip.
"Oh, you're going to come for us. Ain't that right boy?"
The boy muttered something and went right back to eating you out. You could feel the same heat in your belly as when the boss had you. Like a band about to snap. Every little move was too much, every flick of his tongue on your clit was somehow more intense.
You squirmed, trying everything you could to get him off. The boy ignored you. Just held on a little tighter and pinned you thigh to the bed.
"Please," you whined. "It's too much."
The gunslingers snickered at that.
"Poor darlin'. Does it hurt real good?"
"Don't fight it. Just let it happen. No one will know except us."
"And we're real good at keeping secrets."
The extra mean gunslinger pressed his cheek against yours and looked down at the boy between your legs.
"Don't tell me you're shy. We're real well acquainted by now, ain't we?"
You hated when he spoke to you like that. All sweetly condescending.
The boy wasn't letting up. Just kept sucking your clit and dipping his flexed tongue into your hole, switching from one to the other like he couldn't get enough. Like you were water in the desert and he'd drop dead without you in his mouth.
You fisted the duvet in your free hand, trying to distract yourself. No good. Your body had wants and needs of its own.
You could feel it building and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it.
You threw your head back and bit your lip, but it still wasn't enough. Small whines and gasps slipped through.
Your cunt was clenching, your whole belly a warm knot finally coming undone. It felt better than good.
It felt fucking incredible.
The boy didn't seem to notice. He just kept at it, even though your clit was swollen and aching and bright with blood.
The gunslinger noticed though. You could feel him smiling against your neck.
He tugged at your earlobe with his teeth and then kissed all the way down to your shoulder.
"Maybe we ought to be nicer, if that's what you sound like."
"Like a fox in a trap. Whinin' so nice 'fer us."
Your whole body felt like you touched lightening. And the boy's tongue was the worst if it.
"Please, enough. I...can't..."
The dark skinned gunslinger leaned closer to you, smiling in a way that wasn't nice at all.
"You're so sweet when you beg, filly. Ask politely and I'll get him off you."
You swallowed your pride. What was left of it after today anyway? They'd seen far too much of you for you to hold onto false modesty.
"Please. It's too much. Just make it stop."
Maybe it was your voice or maybe it was your tears or maybe he was just feeling merciful after emptying his balls inside you. He grabbed the boy's hair and hauled him up.
The kid's lips were red and swollen, his whole jaw slick with spit and spunk. He looked dazed, eyes still on the spot between your thighs.
"I'm not done yet. Can't I just..."
"Ain't complaining now, are ya? You see why we went through all that trouble for her?"
He was still holding onto you and he made a half hearted tug to get you closer to him.
"Five more minutes. Please."
The gunslinger scoffed. "You think just 'cause you had a taste you can make demands?"
He pulled the boy's hair and dragged him off the bed. His jeans were bulging at the crotch and his eyes never left you.
"But you said -"
"We said that you'd get a taste. Nothin' more."
The gunslinger holding you spoke up, his lips still pressed against your shoulder.
"You gotta earn it boy. Our girl ain't gonna be wasted on some greenhorn."
"Gonna have to make do with your fist, like the rest of us had to."
When the boy was off the bed, the gunslinger let go of your arm and shoved you forward. You landed on your forearms, your body sprawled in front of him.
He planted a hard smack on your ass and leaned over you, lips brushing your hair.
"You'd better dream about me sweetheart. Better feel me in your mouth when you close your eyes."
His fingers swiped across your cunt, rough and probing. You winced at the feel of him.
"Or else I'll just have to fuck you so hard the memory is burned into your mind."
You looked over your shoulder, eyes catching his for just a second. Long enough to realise he meant every word of his threat. He smirked, satisfied.
He stood and grabbed the boy by his upper arm. Together with his partner, they bundled him out the door. Business all finished, eh?
You sagged into the bed and watched them leave, your cunt still pulsing when you moved. You were exhausted and you looked it, too tired to push yourself up.
A hand caught the door before it closed.
Another one? How much more were you supposed to take?
The newcomer nudged the door back open and stood there for a minute, watching you. He had a bowl of water in his hand, a wash rag thrown over the side.
You hadn't seen his face before, but you recognised him. The tall, well spoken one who made you ride on his horse.
He was dressed better than most of the others. A black, silk waist coat and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A silver cross dangled on a chain around his neck.
It made you want to laugh. What God could he worship, when he was a sinner so black?
"Hello dove."
You didn't answer. Just watched him with your cunt fluttering and your lips bruised.
He was the palest out of them all, skin more like a scholar's than a cowboy's. He had black hair, as long as the gunslinger's, but tied back. He was probably Chinese, but born on this side of the Pacific. His accent was almost the same as yours.
He walked towards you slowly. Not nervous, but more like he was worried about spooking you.
He put the bowl of water down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, half facing you.
"It must hurt."
You stayed quiet. What did he know of hurt? He wasn't the one being held down and fucked.
He nodded at the bowl. You hadn't noticed it, but the water was a milky white.
"That's to clean you up. I reckon they left a few more cuts and scrapes than they intended."
You found your voice. Smaller, meeker than you remembered.
"Why do you care?"
"You think we don't care?"
You blinked. Of course you thought that. What else was there to think? They were outlaws who took you to satisfy themselves for an afternoon or two. What more could there be?
He laughed, but it was a bitter thing.
"Oh, qīn’ài de. If we didn't care, you'd still be a free woman."
You didn't understand what he was getting at. He sighed and reached for your ankle.
You jerked away. You didn't want to be touched ever again. Not by a man, not by anyone.
He sighed again.
"Don't be difficult. I want to help you."
"Why?"
He was quiet. Just watching you with his dark eyes. There was something familiar about him, though you couldn't tell what.
Finally, "You don't remember me."
You were in no frame of mind to care about his feelings.
"No."
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his forehead resting on his knuckles. Like a man at prayer. He turned his head a little to speak to you.
"It's been a long time, but you saved my life once."
You frowned, totally blank.
"You were still just a girl. Thirteen or fourteen maybe. I'd just turned twenty, part of a gang for the first time and too damn cocky."
He rubbed the skin just above his thumb. There was an ugly scar there, the skin still raised and puckered after all these years.
"Our heist went wrong. Sherrif and his deputies were waiting for us. I got shot. Not so bad that it would kill me, but bad enough that I couldn't make it home."
You couldn't see where this was going.
"Ended up in a barn, bleeding everywhere. I heard footsteps and I thought for sure I was done for. That the rancher was going to blow my brains all over the wall. But it wasn't him that found me."
You sat up slowly and ended up on your knees, your back to him. You thought you understood now, but you let him keep speaking.
"Wasn't him, but his daughter. Dropped the milk when she saw me but she didn't scream. Just came over and asked how she could help me. Me. A wanted man who'd just killed six deputies."
You didn't know that part of the story. All you remembered was the hot summer sun slanting through the cracks in the barn, and the young man bleeding out in the hay. You remembered him digging the bullet out and asking you to stitch him up, his face going all pale.
You closed you eyes and it was like you were right back there, hiding him in the hayloft and telling your pa the blood on your dress was from killing a chicken.
"Why did you do it?" he asked.
"Because you looked scared. And because I was a little in love with you."
That probably wasn't the answer he was expecting. You pulled in a shuddering breath.
"You were older than me, but still so young. The most handsome man I'd ever met. You told me you got shot by mistake, and not to tell anyone because it would get your little brother in trouble."
You could hear a smile in his voice.
"And you believed me?"
"Yes. Why would you lie to me? Outlaws were just a thing from stories. And I suppose I wanted to believe you. You told me I was going to be really pretty someday, that you'd have to come back and marry me. No one had ever said anything like that to me."
He hummed. "You really thought I was handsome?"
"Yes."
He still was, but he had none of the sweet, boyish softness you remembered. He was handsome in a hard, dangerous way. Diamond rough. You could cut your skin on the sharpness of him.
"But what does that have to do with anything? Why...why do this to me, if you owe me your life?"
He sighed and reached for you. He hooked his arm around your waist and dragged you onto his lap.
"I kept checking in on you over the years, do you know that? Every time I was near your ranch I'd ride out and look for you. Always watching."
"Why?"
"I felt like I owed you. I wanted to make sure you were fine. And when you got older...well, I just liked looking at you."
You shivered. There was something in his voice, a longing far deeper than anyone of the other cowboys'.
"Will you let me go when you're done?"
He sighed and tucked your hair behind your ear.
"Maybe that would be the merciful option. But we aren't merciful men."
He pulled your head onto his shoulder when you started crying.
"You're going to stay with us, qīn’ài de. For a very, very long time."
"Why now? Why..."
His hand was soft in your hair, his voice even softer.
"You're young, lovely, a rancher's only child. How much longer 'til your pa started to consider marriage? And who would come knocking on his door? No, I couldn't loose you to them."
"You're the one..." you tried pulling away but he kept you still, head against his shoulder.
"Me," he agreed, "I'm the one to blame for this. And even knowing that, I wouldn't take it back."
"The others..."
"Brutes, aren't they? But they're my brothers. And once they saw you, they wanted you too."
He said he couldn't loose you to another man, but that didn't make any sense.
"If that's true, why did you let the others..." You swallowed, not sure how to go on.
"Why did I let the others have you first?"
You nodded. He played with the cross on his necklace. Finally, he spoke.
"Because I want the most time with you."
He pulled away to look at you and you realised how wrong you were. It wasn't that he didn't feel any lust for you, it was just that he hid it far better than the rest of them.
But now... oh, his was the worst you'd seen. Boiling hot, on the end of its tether. This was a man who wanted you. Who'd spent years wanting you.
He laid a palm on your thigh.
"They got you for an hour each maybe. But I'm going to have you all night."
In the Woods (Somewhere) - Mothman!Gojo
Ghost stories around the city whisper about a creature in the forest. They describe it as a moth like monster that only brings misfortune and death.
But what will you do as you learn these silly ghost stories are true flesh and bone… and now haunting you?
pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader
wc: 12.9k
warnings & tags: 18+ only MDNI, monster x human relationship, loose interpretation of the mothman legends and stories, death mentions, protectiveness & obsession that can be read as slight yandere like, lot of bug discussion, monster transformation with a touch of body horror, wound licking, blood & tear consumption, magical healing, car accident, allusion to f!oral receiving, kidnapping, character deaths (this ends happy I promise) feral and lovesick Gojo, if there is anything I missed please let me know!
a/n: this is my first submission to @willowser Haunted House Collab and I’m so honored to be part of this! Thank you for putting this together dear Willow! The title is from the lovely Hozier song. Also a big thanks to @skeletoncowboys for letting me scream about this monster & to @stellamancer for always being my dearest comrade in Gojo hell, enjoy and thanks for reading! Stay spooky!
Your grandfather once told you he believed butterflies were fairies and moths were angels.
It made sense to your child logic that butterflies could be fairy creatures. You even imagined fairies had butterfly wings. But, you had argued back in disgust that moths couldn’t be angels.
“Now now,” your grandpa had laughed. “Why can’t moths be angels?”
He gently explained moths were mainly seen in the evening and around light. He believed moths were the forms angels took to keep watch over everyone late in the night when no one believed they were being protected
“And,” he told you with all his sweet patience. “Something like a moth that loves the light can’t be bad.”
Scientifically you now understand moths mainly were nocturnal as a survival instinct for less predators and more opportunities for prey. Some were even active during the daytime. But your grandfather's words stay with you, etched into your heart.
He is why you are here after all.
The campus at night always holds a certain hollowness.
However, the storm that blew in yesterday continues looming with ominous clouds in the sky. It cast an early darkness against the city. The thick haze feels as if something could slink out of the shadows.
When you slip out of the research lab building there, against the light outside, one lone white moth flutters in the air.
Quickly glancing around the campus stretches out before you a vacant lot. In that moment of surveying, delicate wings rapidly flutter fast and wild against your face.
“Ack!” A surprised squawk leaves you at the moth’s sudden charge.
“I told you!” You hiss out waving the bug away. “You could’ve waited for me at home.”
The moth, outraged by your words, rushes against your face harder. Silk wings flap hard while it continues waving around your line of sight in a flurry.
“Calm down, you big baby!” You snap back annoyed and start stomping towards your car.
Now the little insect stops its fluttering attack to gently land on your face. As the bug travels across your cheek, its presence is a gentle tickling sensation. It finally stops and rests against you.
“Happy now?” You mutter low praying no one spots you with a large white moth on your face.
“I’m gonna pick up dinner. So are you getting in the car or meeting me back home?” You speak casual yet still within a low mutter.
With a delicate tickle again, the moth scurries across your cheek then across your nose making your lips twitch in a slight giggle.
Then the creature flutters away, your answer.
The pizzeria you end up at is adorably cozy. You spotted it during the drive to and from campus. Once you read the online reviews and got their blessing you decided to check it out.
Christmas lights hang from the takeout counter where you wait for your order. There’s even a quaint bar-like area. But what catches your attention is the small section of things littering the walls behind the counter.
It reminds you of a scrapbook.
Various newspaper clippings clutter one side. A few blurry photos are folded and pinned to the board. Plenty of hand drawn images scatter among the collage and they range from adorable to terrifying.
All of these things are about one single moth creature.
The board itself is even titled -
The Moth’s Nest.
Moth nests can be disastrous. They infect fast and are hard to exterminate. Plus once they create a nest, infestation is soon to follow.
“Ah, looking at our board.” A smooth voice purrs into the air and you turn towards it in slight embarrassment.
A beautiful blonde woman grins at you from behind the counter now.
“I heard the town had a moth thing but this…” from the drawings, which all included a strange humanoid like creature, this is far from the high moth population count it was known for.
The woman barks an amused laugh and it crinkles her rather lovely eyes.
“You could say that,” she grins. “You new here?”
“Sort of.” You nod. You’ve been here for almost a full semester now and you wonder if the newness will ever melt away.
“Well then, welcome to town!” The woman’s name is Yuki and for being a newcomer she pays for your pizza.
“Even though you got this for takeout, why don’t you stay? Eat here and keep me company.” She winks and you happily slide into the open seat she pulls up for you at the checkout counter.
“So what’s a lovely thing like yourself doing here?” Yuki asks smoothly and you almost choke on your first bite.
After she cackles a warm charismatic laugh, you swallow through your surprise and tell her.
“An en-tah what?” She caws confused like a bird and even her furrowed brows make you snicker.
“An entomologist,” you clarify.
In simple terms, you study bugs.
“Oh!” Yuki’s eyebrows fly fast up into her bangs as her eyes twinkle excitedly. “So you’re all about the creepy crawlers then.”
“Not all of them,” you reply back friendly.
You favored Odonatology and Lepidopterology.
The studies of dragonflies, damselflies, butterflies and in this case-
Moths.
“Well now,” Yuki grins and turns to glance at the board. “Looks like you’re in the right place to find moths.”
It was one of the reasons why you chose this program. The university boasted a plentiful and hands-on ecosystem to explore right within the town’s backyard. You just never expected an urban legend to come attached to the critter population.
Curiously you nudge your face towards the odd journalistic collection and ask about it.
Yuki’s face melts into a wistful look that casts a surprising shadow on her.
“It’s a creature that apparently lives in the woods…” she begins, low and steady.
No one knew how or when it began inhabiting the forest. Some argued it’s a simple folklore meant to scare rowdy kids from venturing into the woods.
“The stories say it’s an actual demon.” Yuki explains.
“There’s a belief that anyone who sees it either dies soon after or calamity befalls the town.”
Yuki’s words conjure up a poisonous fear. She adds how any sight of the cryptid, even in the strongest of nonbelievers, brought a sense of unease.
“But,” Yuki shrugs easily turning back to you. “Some people say that thing is a hero.”
The word hero gets tangled in your ribs
Your new friend explains there are those who have seen the beast and lived to tell a different tale.
Multiple children on different occasions have got lost in the woods. Yet, they always found their way out. Most of them claimed the moth creature helped them.
“There’s even an elderly man who went hiking and still swears up and down that thing saved him from getting attacked by a mountain lion.” Yuki comments.
“That’s a big claim.” You admire the thought of this monstrous creature possibly being a silent guardian. However, it festers something dangerous in your heart that weaves a sticky web.
The pizza on your plate grows cold. The lone drink you were nursing now is a watered down mess. You’ve lost your appetite and decide to head home.
There’s not much for your mind to process. It feels like the same sensation of walking out of a horror film and trying to understand what you saw. You try to rationalize this disorienting simply the same sensation you’d also get hearing ghost stories at sleepovers.
Yuki urges you with a warm charm that you’ll come and visit again, you promise her you will.
Walking out with leftovers in the box, the night greets you with a soupy fog. The lingering storms coat the streets in a mystic cloud.
You wonder if this clouded fog is inside your mind as well.
You’re about to take a step out into the parking lot when a horrifying animalistic shriek pierces the air.
It sounds distorted, a static shrill cry summoned from an ancient abomination.
The screech shoots straight into your bones startling you and making you jump in a pause.
In that moment a car speeding way too fast for a parking lot flies by you. It drives by with a whirling speed rattling the wind.
The noise, the shriek, stopped you from stepping out into the car’s path.
You mind buzzes, maybe too much. The gloomy air seeps into your skin and brings a heaviness over your body. You exhale shakily trying to just settle yourself as you head home.
When you return to the tiny closet of your apartment, there outside against the balcony door your white moth flutters furiously waiting for you.
Sliding the door open you’re about to greet your extra house guest until the text chime on your phone draws your attention away.
As you check your phone charging on the couch, a sudden thud lands against your apartment floors. The flapping of wings flutters into the room.
Before you can even turn around, a shadow falls over you. The presence of something large looms like a ghost, silent and steady yet radiating a chill besides you. Then a firm fuzzy face suddenly dives into the side of your neck burrowing against your skin.
“You need to be more careful.” A voice crystal and aware, yet flickering as if it speaks through the branches of the woods, clicks at you.
You think of the car that blazed by.
“It happens and I’m okay.” You reassure.
The inhuman face hiding in your neck draws back. Then a firm head soon enough gently butts against yours. The action jolts you out of your thoughts and you rapidly turn towards the heaviness leaning against you.
Crawled straight from the shadow of the woods, from the whispers of terrified stories, the creature before you still doesn’t seem real.
You think of Yuki and the moth’s nest board at the pizza shop. All the pictures depict the creature with haunting crimson eyes.
You wish you could have told Yuki the monster’s eyes aren’t red, but instead a piercing sky blue.
And instead of two eyes, the creature holds six beautiful eyes all over his face.
All six eyes of those eyes blink at you with the depth of a haunted lake shimmering within their gaze.
-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-
“Why do you want to study insects?”
Discovering the cryptid could talk was honestly more surprising than discovering he was real.
Also, he had a name.
“Sa-to-ru.” He had told you, pronouncing its syllables as if your little human brain might not get it. It made you scowl. Yet the name itself sounded like something that fluttered out of the forest breeze.
Currently the moth creature, Satoru, sits happily on your apartment balcony under the dark cover of night. You have articles you need to read, lab reports to finish. But, you stay sitting on the floor beside him.
“My grandfather studied them.” You explain, giving the same answer you always do when this question is asked.
“He loved almost every type of bug there was.”
“Sounds like my type of human.” The moth amusedly chitters. “Love to meet him.”
“Honestly, he would’ve loved to meet you too.” You truthfully admit and almost grin thinking of how excited your grandpa would’ve been to see this creature.
“Unfortunately, he passed away a few years ago.” You add simply.
“Oh.” The cryptid replies quietly. “I’m sorry.”
You politely thank him.
“Is he the one besides the moth?”
You’re surprised Satoru even noticed that.
The frame sits on your eclectic shelf filled with books and trinkets. There’s two pictures in that frame. One is a photo of your grandfather during his days when he moved out here to teach at the university you currently attend. The other photo is you and him both holding up big nets when you were a little weed of a thing looking so happy besides him.
Besides those photos is his favorite sketch.
“It’s a luna moth, right?” He’s right again. Though, you’re not surprise he recognized it.
“Yup, the lunar moth was his favorite.” You fondly agree.
Actias luna.
Your grandpa used it as his example of how beautiful and lovely moths could be.
“He’s a man of good taste.” The moth compliments and for some reason it tugs at your lips. You can almost hear your grandfather's voice warmly boasting in pride.
“I wanna show you something, little human.” The moth quickly changes topic and when you turn to him, you find him grinning.
Rows of dangerous sharpened fangs flash within his mouth. They are a visible warning to not trust this creature, but you do.
“After your class this week, I’ll take you somewhere.” Satoru urges.
“Are you going to eat me?” You ask a bit stunned.
Satoru laughs, a flickering chirping noise that bounces off your apartment balcony.
“Oh little human, if I did eat humans I would’ve done that already.”
You glare at him but sighing you agree to whatever he has in store for you.
On your last class of the week, there outside against the campus street light your white moth flutters excitedly.
You think about how dangerous it is that he sticks around campus, even in this form.
With a rapid flurry he flies around your face. You can’t help but snort at the tickling sensation.
“Yeah I’m here, let’s go.” You tease.
Under the twilight hazee, you follow the moth into the woods.
The setting sun casts a shadow over the stretching forest. The trees silently watch your hesitant trek as you follow the moth further into the thickness.
Eventually you’re in the heart of it. No noise greets you, not even the rustling of birds or the fleeing of other animals. It’s as if in this depth all life had stilled. No movement or sign of life encroaches into this space. You realize this might have been the most ridiculous idea, following this cryptid myth into the unknown.
Suddenly the moth stops in front of a large solid tree.
“This is what you wanted to show me?” You’re a bit confused. The insect flutters around you in a huffy flight then goes to spin around the tree.
Satoru himself now slides out from behind the tree in his humanoid form.
“It’s not just a tree.” His six eyes narrow at you annoyed. Your eyes roll exhausted with him already.
“Do you trust me?”
The question surprises you.
Hesitantly you nod, a quiet yes. Satoru then effortlessly scoops you into his arms as if you weigh nothing.
A wild squeak escapes you. His firm arms hold you in his grasp and your mind starts scrambling being this close to him. The fur of his body tickles your arms and the solid warmth of him curls around you.
Satoru’s chittering laugh bounces among the trees.
He then takes flight.
You swallow back a petrified screech threatening to escape and simply let the wind rush around you. A solid thud comes, a landing.
“Open your eyes, little human.” Satoru whispers excited.
You hadn’t realized you had closed them.
The nest before you is a cobwebbed cocoon. You had never seen one this big. The opening of it is carved out wide, a webbed open maw with secrets trying to draw you in.
“Go in, you can see more.” His wistful voice skitters out playful, so light it could get caught in the tree branches.
He’s eager to show you this.
Hesitantly you lean into the nest just to glance inside.
It’s actually rather cozy. Webs and branches twist in a delicate pattern to create a solid enclosing. Leaves scatter the inside floor that is rather large. You can even imagine his large form curled in here cat-like as he sleeps.
“So? What do you think?” He asks with an anticipated edge blooming in his voice. He’s showing you his home.
You remember when he first showed himself to you, even gave you his name.
The logical reasoning within you thought many times about studying this cryptid. There was even a fleeting moment you considered capturing him and returning him back to the lab.
Now you are here discovering his home. You find yourself wanting to unearth as much as you can of this incredibly infuriating but wonderfully interesting creature.
“It’s nice!” You earnestly admire the space. Yet, the truth whispers a harrowing fact.
The bigger the nest, the bigger the infection and danger.
So you instead turn to glance out to the forest around. You’re so high above in the canopy of the trees. Silence seems to settle thicker here among the sky and it mingles with the evening darkness.
The forest, even as tranquil as it appears, holds a sense of loneliness you can’t fully describe.
“Have you been here at this spot for long?”
He chirps a humming yes.
“The high placement keeps me safe and away from prying eyes.” Among the trees and leaves he is simply a shadow.
“Do people try to hunt you?” That grim thought arrives.
“A few try, but no one’s even come close.” A cocky pride brims in Satoru’s tone.
You understand why people would try and search for him. But to hunt him like some prized sport? So you have to ask why.
“Besides some humans believe killing me will solve and save them from all their disasters, a select few who want me for other purposes.” Satoru muses as his antennas twitch.
“What other purposes?” You glance back at the cryptid perched on the solid large branch beside you.
In the dark, all six eyes glimmer with an animalistic reflection, a haunting gleam and reminder of the creature's true nature before you.
All those months ago, these multiple eyes stared at you from the edge of the woods by your apartment and the campus like silent terrors. Now they watch you with intent safety right by your side.
“There’s an old legend…” Satoru answers. “It says my kind could bring someone back from the dead.”
The words spark a curious flame in you.
“Wait, really? Is it true?”
The moth being simply shrugs, an action so human you almost want to laugh.
“Some believe it. That’s enough to hunt my kind.”
So many questions cluster in your mind. You wonder more about his kind, about him. Yet there is no way to scoop all those questions out.
All you can do is gaze out at the scenery before you.
The trees pierce the darkness with their own spiked tendrils. The night sky blankets above you with twinkle stars, glimmering pockets of faint light so clear.
Yet, for some reason this again feels so lonely.
Even with the stretching comforting woods, you can’t shake the sensation of solitude slipping out.
“So why do you still stick around?” You suddenly ask not even understanding why yourself.
“What? Around you or here?” He asks.
“Both.”
A chirp of a sigh comes, heavy with an ancient weary.
“I’ve thought about leaving, migrating somewhere else, somewhere safer.” His voice drops gently, a small click in the wind.
“But…” His voice trails off even more delicate.
“Something just keeps…pulling me back here. Like I’m meant to be here. That I’ve been waiting for something.” You’ve never heard him this wistful and distant.
Then his response also has you curious.
“Do you have any idea what it is?” You cautiously and gently press.
“No idea.” His answer is rapidly too casual that you snort, shaking your head.
“And why am I still hanging around you? Who knows, maybe I just like to bug you.”
The pun isn’t lost especially on you and you groan annoyed even though a smile twitches at your lips.
Among the shade of stars and shadow of the forest, you sit with a creature of the darkness.
-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-
The moth had first appeared at your window balcony dancing around the light like an ethereal wisp of a spirit. It happily flew around you and even spun around your entire apartment. You eventually had to shoo it out.
For a while, it was simply you and this strangely persistent moth.
After that, six eyes began appearing at night at the edge of the woods. Strange clicks like howls erupted in the air, haunting lingering sounds that rattled you.
That same week the moth showed up to your apartment flying in a bit of distress. The wings of it flapped slower and you wondered if it was dehydrated or dying.
As you had opened the sliding door to the balcony, that’s when you first witnessed it.
Like butterflies, moths go through a similar life cycle of emerging from a pupa or chrysalis. The new adult insects must crawl out of its old cocoon. The process is the blend of life and destruction.
You discovered the same applied to moth creatures.
The wings fell first then the twisting and emergence of a body from the small frame transformed to life a fully formed creature.
That first time the moth creature metamorphosed on the balcony you screamed so loud your neighbor across the hall came worriedly to check on you.
You had hoped it was all just a bad dream…
Now when you return home early, that monster rests in your bed instead of lurking under it like all the scary stories whisper where monsters lie.
Curled within the sheets, burrowed deep and taking up the entire frame, the creature slumbers. You barely can spot Satoru underneath all the pillows. A few of your shirts peek out from the swirl of blankets and you try not to linger on that.
The messy twisted bed cocoon however does make you think of the grand nest you saw.
A faint snore grumbles out into the room. The muffled animalistic noise should frighten you. Instead it echoes a soothing rumble as you go to make dinner.
In the meditative process of cutting, claws scratching against the tile floor startles you. Your heart skips at the sudden noise and your face whips to the entryway.
In this form, the moth cryptid has to hunch from touching the ceiling.
Satoru’s imposing frame fills up the entire space even with his thick wings folded to his body. The intricate beautiful antennas on top of his head flicker curious. Among the monstrous features, human-like qualities are visible in his arms, his legs, and the core of his body. Yet even in that familiarity, he is covered in sleek fur.
The sigh of this unbelievable being in this tiny kitchen almost has you laughing. Months ago this would have made you scream in terror. Now, his existence has settled into your life a strange blooming metamorphosis.
Then all six of Satoru’s clustered eyes go wide in terror.
His talons rattle rapidly on the floor as he scurries to your side.
“Your hand.” He comments sharply.
Glancing down, blood trickles over your hand and drips softly onto the cutting board. The cut thankfully isn’t deep, simply sliced the top of your finger.
“Guess that means I’m ordering out.” You mutter.
However your new companion immediately snags your hand.
Satoru’s grasp is hard, a terrified clutch as if he’s worried the cut will worsen. Flickering your gaze to him now, all six eyes focus at your hand with a startling petrified seriousness.
“I’m fine.” You reassure. “Let me just grab a band aid.”
The creature’s firm hold is unrelenting, refusing to budge even as you tug to release your hand.
“Hey-” you’re about ready to chide him and urge him to let go-
Until the moth cryptid leans down and with a long thin tongue begins licking at your wound.
Air gets knocked out of your lungs.
You mind can’t process the sight but the wet tickle of his tongue swiping along your skin grounds you. Satoru’s tongue swipes frantically and fast, a panic.
A dangerous heat runs up your arm and claws at your chest. This shouldn’t feel this intimate. Yet, it does.
You can’t even exclaim in surprise because in the small dimly lit kitchen, the moth has you under his spell.
Instead of the panic, there’s now an eased almost lazy and leisurely lap at your skin. The way his tongue slides across you is as if he’s trying to savor you. It slithers with a reverence between your knuckles, across your fingers, and your mind slowly melts.
Then with one last slow deliberate lick, Satoru draws back.
A daze has fallen over your foggy mind filled with smoke until you blink and notice your cut is gone.
Blood faintly lingers around his mouth, coloring the white fur of his face and it should scare you. And it does but the fear comes from how gorgeous he looks, and knowing it’s your blood…
The thin tongue immediately darts out to lick at the bloody traces.
The sight teeters into an overwhelming sensation and you forcibly break your focus to glance back at your healed hand.
“You have healing powers?” You croak out trying to process the sight.
“No.” For a creature that lives in the woods, he understands sarcasm rather well.
You glare at the creature who now tilts his face away. He avoids your eyes as he fiddles with the edge of your shirt.
“Moths can't heal.” You comment.
“I’m not like a typical moth now am I, little human?”
That damn nickname.
Annoying as Satoru is, you still can’t believe the sight of your healed fingers.
“Thank you for healing me.” You mutter still not able to process but are grateful all the same.
The moth creature hums a proud amused thing you quietly ignore.
Moths didn’t have healing properties. Hawk Moths could recreate antioxidants in their body to replenish themselves. You wonder if that’s how Satoru operates with his abilities.
Another part of you, one that sounds warmly like your grandfather’s voice, whispers that the creatures of this world simply hold mysteries we may not ever know.
You suppose the cryptid refusing to leave your side is the solidified truth of that.
Suddenly Satoru’s head softly plops against the top of yours.
With soft gentle rumbles he rubs his face into your hair.
“You know,” you begin softly as your fingers itch to run up against his fur. “You don’t have to keep sticking around here.”
“Hm?” Satoru hums out a bit dreamily.
“You can go back to where you’re from. You don’t need to keep staying with me out of obligation for freeing you or feeling like… you have a debt you want to repay.” You breathe the words out firmer.
The nuzzling against your head stops.
“Oh?” Satoru begins with a curious chirp. “That’s not why I stay.”
His confident reply stills you.
“Like I said maybe I just like bugging you.” He grins coy. “And besides, I stay because eating the fabric of your clothes is pretty nice free food and I like scaring away any humans that might come by.”
“You bring me closer to buying an electric fly swatter!” You screech and swat him away.
“Aw, don’t be like that!” He whines and flutters his wings almost taken back.
You ignore him and his annoying clicks vying for your attention while you order dinner for the night.
“I forget…Humans are so easily annoyed. You most especially.” He says bristly and it’s the last straw.
Healing your arm or not, this creature manages to wiggle under your skin in a way that no one else has. You blame the damn moth for how on edge you feel. Yet the truth lies in the strange unfathomable heat still brewing under your skin.
As you leave you get food you stare at him hard. You sling the balcony door open, a silent demand he leaves. His multiple eyes, shimmering sapphires, search your face.
“I see...” His reply is a brisk breeze.
Turning your back to him, you head to grab your keys. You don’t even see him leave and instead stomp to head out.
You even fully close your bedroom window. It’s the crack of an entrance you’ve recently been leaving open that allows him to flutter in when he’s a smaller moth.
Now as leave you’re thankful for the momentary space from the infuriating infestation.
Against the early night sky the pizzeria glows an electric beacon against the darkness. Clamoring chatter and an upbeat song greet you when you step inside. You’re not surprised it’s packed on a night like this.
Yuki yells a bright excited welcome at you from across the restaurant and it warms you.
Now leaning at the bar your attention can't help but find its way to the bulletin board by the entryway. Even with the annoyance and conflicting desire, seeing the arranged clutter about the local moth creature draws out a strange sinking feeling within you.
“You interested in the bug?”
A deep rumble of a voice drips out smooth and breaks your focus immediately.
Turning to the side, you discover you’re not alone at the bar.
The man is thick, solidly built and strikingly handsome. He seems older than you, with an aged weathered dignified presence about him. With only black hair and a scar across the corner of his lip, he sits looking bored at the counter with a toothpick in his mouth.
“It’s interesting.” You admit truthfully.
“Think the bug is real?” The man questions with the faintest hint of curiosity.
You shrug again. “Anything is possible I guess.”
“Indeed it is.” Now his voice holds an interested purr that sticks to your skin in an uncomfortable way.
Your eyes flicker back to him and you find his attention however is on the board.
“Some say it’s a demon.” He suddenly adds.
“I’ve heard.” You agree calmly.
“Whatever it is…it’s bad luck.” The mystery man says briskly.
You heard that as well.
“Some say it’s not.” For some reason, a small protective spike rises in you and you even think about Yuki calling it a hero.
“Yeah well, everyone can read an omen wrong I guess.” His words cast a dangerous thickness into the air that slithers up your skin.
“Besides, there’s an old legend I heard once.” he continues.
“It says…if a moth flies into your home it means someone is going to die.”
Dread crashes into your body and consumes you quickly. You’ve never heard that saying before and it bubbles an awful bile in your stomach making you feel sick.
“That’s awful.” You can’t help but answer back sharply it even surprises you.
You think of your grandfather, his belief moths were angels, and how that guided you to where you are now.
And you can’t help but think of the moth in question.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you.” He leans back into his seat to stare at you.
No response for him seems to come to mind. If anything, a strange chill trickles down your spine as if you’re staring down a creature surveying and waiting to strike.
Yuki calls out your name and breaks your focus.
“Wish I could stay and chat but we’re a bit busy tonight!” She winks at you and now you grin, eased at her presence.
You wish her a good night and begin gathering your order to leave.
“Be careful out there.” The stranger mutters. Your eyes flicker to him. His attention is back on the slice of pizza before him.
“Don’t know what might be out there trying to fly into your house this time of night.”
His words create a sticky cobweb of emotions in you. You simply take your food and rush out.
Driving back to the apartment you glance at your hand fully healed and still lingering with the phantom sensation of the moth’s tongue licking at your skin.
You think of how effortlessly this strange creature carved a space in your life.
Now a sense of danger prickles against your skin, like the way the air tightens electric before a storm.
When you arrive home, a silent apartment greets you. The emptiness clouds your space and the walls creep in close and cold.
A piece of you expected him to return, maybe even hoped. But trying to sort through those emotions again bubbles a strange ache in your chest.
Before you go to bed you slightly open your bedroom window and settle under the covers. Closing your eyes, you accept the silence and solitude lingering in your room and heart.
Sleep trickles in faintly. You fade in and out of being awake.
Then your bed shifts.
A heaviness immediately curls against you. The softest brush of moth wings graze your arm. Soft chirps, faint and delicate, float into the room.
Satoru’s face burrows against the top of your head, a silent apology.
This is new.
He’s never done this before. He’s never slept on your bed with you. But your heart races too fast in your chest and your mind still feels so clouded from this night that you can’t even react.
Or, you don’t want to react.
This is new, yes. But a wild desperation inside of you sinks its claws into this new proximity. You simply keep your eyes closed and shift to settle deeper into the bed, deeper into his warmth.
The smell of the brisk forest, clear and earthy, lulls you to sleep.
Waking up the next morning, you’re alone.
A part of you wonders if you dreamed his return.
Yet on your nightstand rests a sweet plucked wildflower that wasn't there before. It greets you a bright good morning.
-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-
Your open apartment balcony door brings in a warm evening breeze. A favorite series of yours plays on the television as you grab another mouthful of popcorn.
“Can I have some?” Satoru whimpers.
“No.” You answer through the mouth of popcorn.
“So mean! Why are you so cruel to me, little human!?” He pouts and you simply ignore him.
Even with the moth creature crouching on the floor his body still looks frightfully full and large. His fur is fluffed out more and he almost looks adorable like this simply sitting beside you.
His presence should create a distorted sense of reality. Yet no sense of panic rises within you. If anything, only more curiosity has started gnawing in you.
What kind of moth species did he originate from? Where was he even originally from? Did he have a family?
“What’s your favorite human activity to do?” It seems you were not the only one curious.
Recently Satoru has begun pestering you with a plethora of questions from what foods did you like the most to these more strange human specific ones.
“Don’t know, I have a lot.” You answer truthfully.
You rationalize all the questions you have and that he even asks are mutual inquisitive curiosity about the other’s species, a chance to learn.
Except, for you, the source of your curiosity masquerades as a yearning you don’t want to hunt out yet.
“Humans are terrified of the oddest things.”
Satoru’s comment breaks your thoughts.
You turn towards the creature who stares at the television with all six eyes.
The series you had put on had been an old favorite of yours, supernatural and fantasy based. The main heroes in this episode were being terrorized by monsters that came alive from a children’s book of old fairy tales.
“Well this series is older so the effects and monster makeup isn’t all that impressive.”
“Not that.” The moth corrects you quickly. “I mean that creature isn’t even scary.”
You want to make a comment about how of course a creature that crawled from the woods and haunts a town would not find this terrifying.
“What are you afraid of?” Again the moth humanoid questions.
You shrug. “A lot of things.”
“You don’t need to be afraid of anything.” He chirps so matter of factly it surprises you. “Especially because I’m here now.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes at his cocky boast. Yet your heart flips at the protective claim.
“But…I do think humans may be the scariest creatures of all.” Satoru notes with a wistful distance in his voice.
You wonder if he’s trying to tease you or even be a bit poetically pessimistic.
“I agree.” You nod reaching for popcorn. “Humans can sometimes be scary.”
In all the beauty that comes with being human, you know there is a darkness that comes with the territory. The lovely prickle of rain starting to fall soothes you as the episode jumps to the next.
It’s one of your favorites. The main character gains a secret wish stone that transforms into her love interest because she desires and wishes for him most of all.
You rise to the kitchen to grab a drink.
“What do you wish for most, little human?”
His words stop you frozen. They come out so simple, a curious purr almost.
Your mind tries to reach towards something noble and grand like to wish for world peace or wish for climate change to end. You think of wishing for a better car, better apartment, to get rid of your money problems.
Yet it all cultivates into a simple easy response.
“Love, I guess.” It’s a simplified answer.
“That?” Even Satoru sounds dubious.
“Yeah…love. If you have love, then everything else sort of just falls into place.” With love at the cornerstone, everything can build from there.
A chittering like sigh dances into the room.
“Boring. At least say something interesting like an endless supply of sugar or something like that.”
You can’t help but snort at such a silly answer.
“Is that you’d wish for then?” You now ask the creature.
“Mhm…maybe. Or maybe something extra special your little human mind couldn’t comprehend.” Such a coy response only makes you roll your eyes.
But for some reason, that answer feels heavy like it needs to be unearthed. You don’t push the answer, or him.
As you clean up around the kitchen, you glance back to the living room. There Satoru rapidly consumes all your popcorn as fast as he can.
“You freaking pest!” You screech annoyed and he simply blinks his six blue marble eyes at you as if he did nothing wrong.
“I’m not a pest.” He replies innocently and it annoys you even more.
“You’re literally a moth! What is more pest-like than that?!”
Satoru’s monstrous face flickers. It faintly crumbles until his eyes hollow out a cold downcast.
“Right there? You just sounded just like every other human.” His words, low, raw and sharp, rip through you.
He doesn’t say it but you hear the undercurrent.
I thought you were better than that.
A festering ache swells in your chest as the weight of his words drag you under.
Quietly you start making two bowls of popcorn now. You grab the chocolate syrup. Satoru had a fierce sweet tooth. It took you by surprise when your gas station candy treat went missing and his sticky fur said enough.
So you drizzle plenty of chocolate over the salty snack then you quietly speak.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
A moment of silence fills the space.
“It’s alright little human... Sometimes I forget your little human brain makes so many mistakes like that. I can’t get too mad.” He chirps so bored.
You’re tempted now to throw away the chocolate popcorn.
Thankfully the air seems to lighten as you head back to the living room two popcorn bowls in hand.
There Satoru’s multitude of eyes are entirely glued to the television now. The familiar dialogue comes and you whip your attention to the screen as well.
The big realization between the main heroine and her love interest unfolds as he realizes what her wish manifested as.
The moment is heated, drenched in undeniable chemistry. The magnetic pull even has you entrapped. Then the love interest without hesitation pulls the heroine and kisses her with a fierce released love.
Now it feels so intimate, too raw to watch. You turn away under the guise of grabbing more popcorn.
“Is that how humans show affection?” Satoru’s voice is a curious twinkle of a chirp.
“Yup,” you weakly agree while you check your phone hoping to seem disinterested.
“Seems aggressive.” For some reason his disgusted comment makes you snort.
“Uh, it depends. Kissing is…” there’s much you can say on the manner but you simply shrug.
“It’s nice.” A simple but true answer.
“What’s it feel like?” The question drips with an inquisitive click but for some reason it slithers dangerously under your skin.
“Uh…again, it depends. There’s different types of kisses for different situations and the emotions can change with them.” You explain.
“Sounds complicated.” Satoru muses and you snicker relaxed with the episode ending.
“I thought you knew all about human interactions?” You now ask, curious yourself.
“Not in that way.” That’s fair.
“Or really…I’ve just never been interested in seeing humans interacting in that way.” He adds rather low.
“Until recently.” That addition he gives cuts across you as if it’s covered with sharp glass edges.
“Guess this series does that, even to moth creatures.” You lightly try diffusing whatever shift starts to swirl in the room and drag you into its current.
Satoru stays quiet, curled into himself and his wings. Very faintly his antennas droop, enough that you notice it.
Rain now steadily prattles on peacefully mixing with the episode playing. Yet in the silence your skin crawls with something unspoken you can’t evade.
You close your eyes hoping to avoid any more questions and pretend you’ve fallen asleep. Naturally, a nap overtakes you and you jolt awake when a text message brightly wakes you up.
“So what episode are we on?” You sleepily ask, noticing the cryptid hasn’t left. Evening would be arriving soon, the time Satoru normally slipped back into the woods.
“A weird one.” He mutters and now curiosity flickers in you over which episode it is.
Your eyes widen.
Of course it would be this one.
The heroine’s best friend falls in love with a monster living in a cave. It’s another one of your favorites. Now, the obvious reality sinks its fangs into your throat.
“This is the most ridiculous one by far.” Satoru scoffs. “No human would actually love a monster like this.”
His words deflate something in you. All the nerves and prickling emotions scatter.
“I don’t know.” You offer back lightly. “Maybe there’s something extra human to love a monster.”
All six eyes rapidly blink towards you. Their glassy yet sharp attention focuses so intently and it’s unnerving.
“You don’t mean that.” He snips and it distorts his voice more than normal.
You shrug.
“What do you mean by that?” He annoyingly asks, persistent.
What you mean is sometimes humanity can see through what society deems as monstrous and instead love the core of what a being is.
“I mean, it’s like what the episode says,” you nudge towards the television.
“If love is fanged even between humans, why can’t a monster find that same love?” You quote it vaguely but enough to capture the core.
The same goes for humans you explain.
“Cause like what we said earlier, humans are a bit scary from time to time right? A little bit monstrous ourselves?”
So why not settle with a love fanged and coated in the shadows.
The episode takes a shift when the heroine’s best friend greedily kisses the bat-like creature. An electric desire jolts across your spine as it dries your throat.
“I never knew humans could…desire something like this.” Satoru’s eyes now unabashedly stare at the television with a religious focus almost afraid to look away.
“Some do.” You try sounding casual, but your voice croaks.
A heavy fog clouds your mind. Before he can ask or comment anything else you brightly announce you’re going to take a shower. You scurry to the bathroom without even once glancing at the moth monster.
It’s a pathetic excuse but it’s early evening now. This decision isn’t entirely out of the blue. You just need to cool down and take yourself away from the moment.
However, under the weight of the water, under the heat of the steam, you try washing away the festering arousal seeping into your veins.
The episode flashes in your mind. Except this time you picture yourself in the arms of the towering moth creature.
This danger has been brewing well beneath the surface and now slips past its shackles.
It rips you open raw and wild, unrelenting in a way that a slick heat already pools between your legs. You should not, by all rational means, be attracted much less so attached to this monster. Yet, you are.
You remember how easily he swept you into his arms, how solid and built his frame is. He is stunning. You can’t even deny that.
You even think about how comforting a presence he was in your bed. Those thoughts melt and mutate dangerously.
Now, you imagine how warm and solid he would feel against you, between your legs. What he looks like drunk on pleasure-
Exhaling shakily, you turn the shower as cold as you can.
When you return to the living room after the shower, the sliding door is still wide open. Rain continues to twinkle its beautiful song into the living room, a living room now very vacant.
No moth creature is in sight and the bowl of chocolate drizzled popcorn remains untouched.
-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-
In the research lab you grade quizzes from the class you work assisting with. This time during the week the lab is thankfully empty and it gives you time
to catch up on your articles and work.
A surprise knock however disrupts that peace.
Your advisor walks in with a warm grin. Besides her is the man from the bar.
A confused anxiousness seizes your heart and you try keeping your face composed.
You politely smile as your advisor calls your name.
“This is Toji Fushiguro. He’s an agent from the local conservation group trying to investigate where our dear little moth friend went.” Your advisor explains polite and casual.
Your heart sinks rapidly.
The unknown moth had been in a large observation box the first time you saw it.
It had been a new and recent find. Being a first year in the program, you simply were allowed to watch and observe the new species.
Bigger than a typical silk moth, the unidentified moth had beautiful intricate designs on its wings you’d never seen. The little creature was also incredibly feisty. On multiple occasions it flew into the side of the box as if trying to push its way out.
Now that glass enclosure sits empty.
“Do you think it would be alright if he asks you a few questions?”
You happily agree hoping that cooperating will divert any attention from yourself.
With a grin your advisor leaves the room to give you and Fushiguro space. Now alone with the man from the bar, he sleepy grins a coy amused thing.
“So, we meet again.” That deep voice sulks out with a lure that feels poisonous and sticky.
“We do.” You nod politely.
“Shouldn’t be surprised you’re a bug fan.” He scratches at his jaw and for some reason his casual attitude towards you twists your stomach.
You want to make a witty comeback but nothing comes to mind. Instead you stare down this mysterious man.
“What makes a cutie like you get into bugs huh?” He asks casually.
“My grandfather.” You answer truthful and curt.
“Hm, that’s nice.” Fushiguro nods understandingly.
His eyes begin scanning the lab with that same boredom he wore at the restaurant bar.
“So when did ya let the moth escape?” His relaxed question makes you choke.
“Excuse me?!” You snap. “I didn’t let the moth out.”
Except you had.
The first night you stayed late at the lab you accidentally forgot to close the windows.
In that mishap, the moth escaped. You were thankful another class used the lab after you and disrupted the possibility of anything being pinned to you.
The department of course was a bit disheartened. However, everyone warmly joked about half of the job of being an entomologist is chasing after things way too fast to catch.
That happened months ago.
“I’m going to be honest with you.” Toji Fushiguro leans against the table with a brazen ease. “I’m here looking for that thing cause it’s dangerous.”
For some reason, you don’t fully believe him.
“Remember what I told you about moths? They’re bad luck.” His stare is unwavering and cold.
“That’s arguable.” You surprisingly fire back.
Toji Fushiguro shrugs. He slides his hands into his jogger pant’s pockets.
“If that’s all you wanted to discuss, then I need to ask you to please leave. I have work to do.” You answer sharp and composed.
He simply shrugs again and pushes himself off the table he leans against.
Without another word Toji Fushiguro simply heads to the door. Before he leaves the man stops.
“That bad luck I told you about? S’gonna catch up to you soon, pretty. Just want to give you a warning.”
It sounds like a threat instead of a warning.
At his words a venomous bile pools in your mouth and you almost want to snarl at this man. He leaves with just a casual wave of his hand and not another word.
The rest of the time in the lab you can’t focus on anything. You simply float in this strange inertia.
When you leave, no moth flutters outside to greet you.
A new wave of terror wiggles through your stomach.
Your apartment is also deadly silent. Worry prickles all over your body as you slide open the balcony door. You even peer out into the woods hoping to find six gleaming eyes staring out.
Yet only the darkness, eternal and empty, stares back an ancient unforgiving warning.
So try pushing aside this rattling worried energy. You try to make dinner, even put on a favorite movie for background noise.
Your mind however can’t leave the thought of Toji Fushiguro. Mainly, you worry about the absence of your moth. Fear eats away at you as if an actual creature has crawled inside.
And maybe he has.
You miss him. You miss Satoru. You’re worried about him.
He’s become a staple in your life, a strange fixture pestering you. You can’t imagine a day without his presence now.
Then a realization trickles in a slow and sticky truth.
He is a creature of the woods, a myth of the darkness. Maybe he never meant to be yours.
Now here you are. A selfish human simply trying to keep him all to yourself.
A sudden clash of something solid rams into the balcony rail. You can’t help but shriek.
Thee moth creature rapidly shoves his way into your living room. He crawls inside feral like something out of a horror movie.
“Satoru!” You cry out his name and rush towards him.
Satoru’s piercing sky eyes, all six of them, are wide and frantic. His gaze darts around the room. Then he begins sniffing around the space.
“Someone’s been in here.” Satoru’s voice drops, a waterlogged frantic gurgle.
“Wait what?” You ask terrified. “How do you know?
You start glancing around the room now and follow Satoru as he continues rapidly smelling the space. There are no signs of someone breaking in and entering. Nothing even seems out of place or stolen.
“I smell something new. It’s not either one of our scents.” Satoru’s voice drips with a sharp dread and it chokes you.
“What does that mean?” You croak trying not to get caught up in the terror and panic, but their current is so strong.
Suddenly Satoru whips around.
There in the hallway of your apartment he completely consumes the entire space with his imposing frame. The darkness of the hallway and dim lighting casts a grim shadow over him. His wide frantic eyes are animalistic, more than you’ve ever seen.
His shoulders heave with rapid breaths. In a blink Satoru suddenly crams his body against yours.
This giant of a monster curls down to crouch into you. His face begins rubbing against yours. Soft growl like purring rumbles into the air.
You can’t help but whimper his name as fear has you in its maw.
What’s going to happen? What could you do?
You try to voice these questions, these worries, but the words get tangled in your throat.
“Nothing will harm you.” Satoru snaps deadly as the edge of his tone wavers into a frayed growl.
Those strange humming clips and chirps he makes float into the air while he continues comforting you.
Clawed hands curl into your back with a noticeable pressure. There’s a hint of danger in his tight grasp. But then you realize you’re also clutching onto him with an iron hold.
Frustratedly you try blinking away tears managing to stubbornly spill down your cheeks.
Satoru, who still rubs his monstrous face against yours, immediately notices your tears.
A distressing chattering noise comes and you’re readying to reassure him you’re fine.
His tongue instead moves to lick at your tears.
The action stills you immediately. The slick appendage rapidly slithers across your face trying to quickly wipe away your tears.
You think about when he healed your hand, when his tongue wiggled across your skin to lap at your blood. Now here he is again, consuming you, trying to heal and comfort you.
His tongue however slides down across your cheeks tasting the salt of your skin. It immediately sparks to life an intoxicating heat that drowns out the panic.
A part of you wonders about the danger swirling around him and how there might be a possibility that doom is seeping into you.
This might be your doom, to adore a creature composed of myth and nightmare.
You blink and a few lingering tears rapidly run down your cheek straight to the corner of your lip.
Satoru, fast as ever, moves to lick them up. In the process his tongue slithers close to your lips, running across the edge of them.
You inhale sharply and your eyes can’t help but snap open wide. You’re breathing heavily. The way Satoru’s large shoulders begin heaving, so is he.
Suddenly he breathes out your name and it gets tangled in your heart.
“Mine.” Then his voice, animalistic and monstrous, cracks the air with a low possessive growl.
His tongue begins running across your lips without hesitation. The wet wiggling intense sensation has your eyes closing in absolute bliss. You sigh and want to open your mouth to let his tongue slip inside.
“You’re mine.” He snarls out feral and wild. Those strange clicks of his come faster and soon enough his claws draw you closer.
Suddenly Satoru inhales deeply against your skin.
Then he groans a terrible wonderful noise that makes your knees buckle.
“Oh you smell so good.” He slurs. He continues to smell every inch of your skin, trying to map and memorize your scent.
A whimper escapes you and Satoru rumbles out a comforting click.
He begins dragging his down your body with a focused intent.
“Stronger, it’s getting stronger.” He mutters against your clothes.
“Satoru-” you say his name a bit worried.
The moth creature shoves his face unabashedly against your clothed sex. He groans loud, almost debauched and all thoughts float out of you. His antennas rapidly twitch.
“Oh it’s here.” Satoru mumbles in awe, possessed, as if he’s found a deity. “You smell so good here.”
He growls frustrated as he tries burrowing his face closer and closer to your dripping arousal.
You croak out his name waterlogged.
Satoru snaps to look up at you from his knees. All six eyes are glossy and frantic.
“Please? Please, my little human, can I have more?” He begs.
That’s when you notice his mouth is wet drenched with saliva. He’s drooling at just the thought of you, drunk on your smell.
All you can do is nod, caught in the same intoxication desire.
Effortlessly he claws apart your pants at the seam and dives in. You can’t even chide him for that.
Your mind goes blank, consumed by pleasure and lost in its woods. As you cry out while his thin tongue runs up and down every inch of you, you realize Satoru is right.
You are his. And maybe he is yours.
Satoru arrived in your life and never left. He instead stayed in the safety of your light with you under the cover of his wings.
-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-
“Don’t go to class today.” The moth mumbles.
Satoru has been glued to your side since the discovery of your intruder last week. He barely leaves the apartment and when he does it’s only because you need to leave. Currently he sits on the bedroom floor with wide sleep deprived eyes.
The antennas on top of his head flicker quickly. He’s tried been pushing himself to stand guard even during the day.
“I’ll be fine, it’s just a lecture.” You reassure him.
“Besides, you should take this time to sleep. You need to rest.”
“I’ll be fine.” He mirrors your words back to you.
Your monster’s six eyes hold a daze focused like he’s trying to be aware of everything all at once. Slowly and delicately you let your hand run against his soft face.
The delicate fur, now a tangible dream under your fingertips, is so sulky. The touch jolts the creature into awareness.
Satoru’s eyes all flutter you and instantly his face melts against your hand.
“Don’t go.” He whispers a static like mumble.
“I’ll be okay.” You even lean down to kiss the side of his face.
“Fine, then I’m going.” He snaps a firm unwavering decision and you can’t argue with him.
As you walk to the lecture hall building he flutters so swiftly and dizzying in his normal moth form. He even flies all around your face, another angry urging for you to not go.
You gently hold out your hand. Slowly the moth flutters to land on top of your hand.
He is gorgeous in every form including this one. Shimmering wide eyes, large intricate wings, all composed in this sweet creature furiously crawling over your hand.
“I know you’re still upset, but I’ll be fine.” You softly reassure him for the hundreth time.
He stops and stares at you. Gently you run a finger across his fuzzy little head careful to not touch his antennas.
He flies from your hand and lands immediately on the corner of your lips.
A goodbye kiss.
Your lips twitch amused and deeply fond.
“I’ll see you when class is over.” With that you head to class.
Walking into the classroom, one of your peers excitedly speaks to everyone present in the room.
“Did you guys hear?! Someone just saw the mothman thing on campus a few minutes ago?!”
Terror unfolds in you and your heart collapses among its cage. He must have transformed in the woods, or in flight.
“Really? Are you sure?” A skeptic quickly emerges and you cling to their words.
“No I swear! Everyone’s been talking about it online! So many people saw it fly into the trees by the woods!”
You haven’t been this terrified since the contained moth was missing or since you first saw six reflective eyes staring at you from the dark.
Chatter breaks out immediately with so many discussions. Some of your classmates show their disbelief while others eagerly ask for more information.
You try to keep your composure as you slide into your seat.
“Hey,” someone says your name. Your friend that sits next to you stares at you with a scrunched up face of concern.
“You okay? You look kinda sick.” She frowns.
You wearily smile and use the excuse that you have been under the weather. A cold chill even runs up your spine.
“Then head back home,” she comforts you with understanding eyes. “I’ll send you the notes from today and let you know if you miss anything.”
Grateful you wearily thank her and she nods warm, reassuring, wishing you rest. As you turn to head out you catch the last bit of conversation bubbling along with your classmates.
“Well…if someone saw the moth thing, doesn’t that mean something bad is gonna happen soon?”
“Yeah that’s what the legend says.” Someone grimly agrees.
Scrambling, you shove yourself out of the classroom before you hear anything else.
Now out of the room you shakily exhale trying to calm yourself down.
At this time in the evening the hallways are deathly silent, harrowingly so. Unlike the lab building, so open and light with its many windows and expanded hallways, the lecture hall building’s tight corridors create a haunting clustered stillness.
That stillness seems to be creeping in more and more.
As you walk towards the elevator, sudden footsteps begin stomping behind you.
They are solid and firm, staying a decent pace away from you. The anxiousness from these past few days create an unbearable itch that crawls over your skin.
So you turn around.
And the hallway is dead empty.
No one walks behind you.
Fear tastes icy and rotten as it infects your body. Instantly you whip around to rush to the elevator.
You clash straight into someone.
The collision knocks you out of your thoughts and you quickly blink into focus.
A rush of apologizes stammer out of you.
“Hey, it’s okay.” The man you ran into warmly reassures you.
You finally get a good look at him. He’s handsome with a strong jaw and a faint mustache. He looks official in his suit. The smell of cigarettes surround you.
“Actually, I was wondering if you could help point me in the direction of the main office.” The man smiles warmly.
This had to be the source of the footsteps you heard. The dread you have slowly simmers at the sight of him.
“Oh course.” You grin weakly at the man, thankful your fear is calming down. “You have to go down to the other end of this hallway-”
A sudden hand comes up from behind you.
It slaps over your mouth with a painful grip. Then something sharp pierces your neck.
The scream from your throat fades along with your focus.
The last thought flashing through your mind before you fade into darkness is that Satoru was right.
You shouldn’t have gone to class.
-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-
The jostling of your body wakes you up.
Groggily you blink into focus. You first notice it’s late at night. Next, you’re laid across the back seat of a car and your hands are tied.
In the front seats sit the man you ran into at the school and Toji Fushiguro. You go to scream but a tightly wrapped cloth blocks your mouth.
“You’re awake.” Toji drawls out slowly and surprised.
You screech at him through the material.
“Yeah, I knew you were with the moth this entire time.” He grins at you through the rear window.
You continue to scream as best as you can, sounding feral and panicked as tears fill your eyes.
“Guess living with a monster makes you sound this wild.” Toji Fushiguro’s accomplice mutters without even glancing once at you.
He begins typing away on his phone.
“We got more buyers willing to pay if we bring the moth in alive.” The man comments.
Everything clicks.
They were after Satoru. And you’re the bait.
Maybe Fushiguro’s accomplice is right. Maybe living with a monster has leaked into you because the noise you make doesn’t sound human.
Your scream, still stifled, carries so many emotions. Your pain, terror, anger and frustration, all of it courses through your veins and rips out in waves.
“Hey.” Toji Fushiguro glances back at you from the rear mirror. “Keep it down. I don’t wanna get too aggressive, but I will.”
He casually pulls out a gun and waves it around.
The horrifying casual threat causes your eyes to go wide and now all the fight you had trickles out.
“Watch it!” Suddenly the man in the driver's seat screams out.
Your eyes flicker forward.
Against the darkness, illuminated by the car’s headlights, a looking figure stands in the middle of the road.
Six eyes stare out from the darkness a brilliant terrifying electric blue. Delicate wide moth wings flare out and break against the night.
Through the fabric you scream out his name, except it gets drowned out by the revving of the engine.
Toji speeds up with full intent to hit the creature.
“What are you doing?!” The other man cries out.
You even scream in panic. Your moth however flies up, missing the impact.
He’s gone from sight.
A solid clang lands on the roof.
A sharp stab pierces the top of the car with a snap. The screeching of metal being ripped away follows fast. The eyes of the monster stare into the car with a disastrous terror.
Satoru smiles wild and gleeful at the men, a predator that's captured its prey.
Then…Everything happens in a blink.
The car swerves. The speed makes you feel as if you are flying. The colliding noise of scraping metal and then a solid impact. Everything becomes distorted as if you are in a snow globe spinning and trying to focus on a dizzying fuzzy world.
An unholy monstrous scream rips into the air. It’s all you hear as you fade in and out of consciousness.
You blink and suddenly twigs from the forest floor press against your body. A sharp object pierces your side. Every inch of you screams in pain while also a numbing sensation starts creeping in.
An inhuman roar screeches out and your eyes snap open.
Off to the side along the trees you see the faint edge of Satoru within the darkness. Faintly you hear a wet ripping sound. It’s visceral, like a vulture digging into a macabre carnage.
You watch his clawed hands viscously dig into whatever he stands over. You try gathering your voice trying to say something, anything.
Then six electric eyes snap up to you from the dark forest. He is the terror of the woods, a feral monster interrupted from its hunt.
Your vision however goes blurry and it gets harder staying awake.
A wreck howl of your name breaks into the air.
Tender clawed hands scoop up from the ground. You’re cradled against him gently and tight. The fabric in your mouth gets ripped away and now the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth fast.
You wheeze out Satoru’s name. There’s so much you want to say. But you’re getting so tired.
“Stay awake!” He snarls desperately sensing your exhaustion.
Nothing feels real. Even staring up at your creature, his six eyes seem to become twelve, like clusters of galaxies carved out in the night sky.
But you’re fading. You know and he knows it.
Breathing hurts and now a cool chill runs across your body from the inside.
Your grandfather's words about moths being angels float into your mind.
You recall how terrifying angels are sometimes described. Some of them are composed of wheels of fire, with many wings.
Yours has many eyes.
You’re grateful Satoru is here with you at the end. You’re grateful this angel found you.
Water droplets plop onto your face and you wonder if it’s raining.
Satoru screams your name with absolute anguish. A darkness crawls over your eyes. Soft and peacefully, you fall into its waiting arms.
-.⊹˚₊⋆˙↟☾↟˙⋆₊˚⊹.-
A soft steady beeping pulls you out from the darkness.
Wearily you open your eyes. But the bright light of wherever you are immediately has you shutting your eyes tight.
A cold hand touches your arm.
The touch jolts you awake. In a panic your eyes immediately snap open and your body shoots up only to find yourself tangled.
Tubes run from out of your arms. One tube even rests under your nose. The beeping noise you faintly recognize is a heart monitor and realization hits that you’re in a hospital.
Then when you turn to the side, a man you don’t know sits beside you.
You have never seen a man as gorgeous as him. Striking cloud white hair, a chiseled jawline, broad shoulders and then…
The brightest blue eyes, clear as a summer sky, stare at you so frantic and hesitant.
The man says your name, his tone faintly pleading.
For some reason his voice sounds vaguely familiar. But that thought is put on hold when the door to your room opens and a nurse walks in.
“Oh thank goodness you’re awake!” She sighs genuinely warm to see you and even seems a bit surprised.
What happened? You were dying. You were sure of it.
“Do you remember anything that happened?” The nurse asks gently as she checks your vitals.
“I…” your voice wavers as the memory clips at you, terrifying and heartbreaking.
“It’s okay if you don’t.” The nurse says comfortingly. “It’s common for accident victims to have a foggy memory. Plus after the one you were in it’s understandable.”
Weakly you question about what happened, how you got here.
With soft eyes the nurse explains it all.
You were the only survivor of the car crash. A part of you vividly remembers Toji Fushiguro and the man with him. A part of you dark and hollow gleams grateful they are no longer here.
You however didn’t walk away unscathed. You have a few broken ribs, a very bad concussion and light internal bleeding being monitored.
“We even found damage near your heart that could’ve been deadly-”
Yet, you were alive.
“And….” The nurse’s eyes twinkle warm and adoring as they flicker to the man behind you.
“This man found you and brought you in. Came into the hospital with you in his arms like some kind of bloody guardian angel.”
You whip your attention back to him as well. The man’s blue eyes stay so intently focused on you.
They remind you so much of the pairs of six eyes that watched you with the same unwavering gaze.
Then the nurse’s words click.
An angel.
No. This couldn’t be…
The idea so wild and unbelievable barrels into you fast. It knocks you breathless that you can’t help but cough out.
Everyone instantly scrambles to grab you something to drink. It’s your mystery man who hands you a cold water first and you guzzle it down with a frantic speed.
“I’ll let you get some rest. Please hit the call button if you need anything.” The nurse squeezes your shoulder and you thank her with a weak cough.
Now in the quiet safety of the hospital room, your attention snaps to the man still intently staring at you with glossy blue lake eyes.
You take the jump. It might be the most far stretched idea and you can blame the concussion but -
You whisper out Satoru’s name.
The white haired man nods fast and a sob escapes you.
It’s him.
Through tear soaked questions you ask him how.
“Remember that legend I once told you? About us being able to bring someone back from the dead?”
His voice is now clear, so distinctly him even in this form you can’t miss it now.
His words are a chilling breeze.
“I died.” You whisper the cold realization.
And he brought you back.
“But you…what happened?” Your eyes so clouded with tears scan his very beautiful and human face.
The Satoru before you is so familiar yet so different. The deep inhale he gives moves his shoulders. You’ve seen it before when his wings moved with the same exhausted exhale. Instead now a weary weight, a very human one, colors his stunning features.
But a sudden eased smile tugs at his lips and the sight is stunning.
“We’re allowed to bring someone back…it’s just at a little cost.” His voice flutters out light and his words get trapped in your throat.
You can’t fight the tears. They come in waves and your shoulders shake as you cry.
“Wait,” Satoru rapidly panics as he slides closer to you. “What’s wrong?!”
He gave up everything. His form, his livelihood, his essence as a creature of the myth, he gave it all for you.
That solid truth rips so much sadness and guilt through you all you can do is angrily cry, frustrated.
“Why are you crying?” He asks concerned and a bit confused.
“Because,” you hiccup. “Because I did this to you.”
You would carry this guilt for the rest of your life.
“What? Don’t like the way I look? I thought I was pretty handsome in this form, yeah?” He lightly teases to perk you up.
You give him a look of disbelief wondering if you should call the nurse to escort this headache away from you.
“Okay okay,” he says, thankfully understanding your heartache.
Gently Satoru’s hand moves to rest against you on top of the itchy hospital blanket. Fondly he runs his hand over your leg. You watch as his eyes follow the path of his hand like he’s trying to solidify your presence beside him. A sadness shimmers within his blue pools.
“If anyone’s to blame…it’s me. I did this to you.”
Quickly, through a teary blubbering mess you reassure Satoru he did nothing wrong. His hand softly squeezes your knee.
“Do you remember when we were watching that weird show and you asked me what I’d wish for? What I wanted more than anything?”
Suddenly Satoru speaks firmer, eyes still not facing you.
“I wished I could be with you. I wanted to live a full life by your side.” His answer is low, but so beautifully clear it’s like dawn breaking over the forest.
Those endless blue eyes turn to you.
Gingerly Satoru raises his hand. He runs his fingers against your face with a tender touch, a delicate brush like that of a moth’s wing.
“Never feel guilty about what happened. I would make this decision over and over again. I don’t regret it and never will.” He says firm, absolute and devoted.
Tears return again but this time for another reason, one so beautifully overwhelming it consumes you.
Satoru gently draws you into his arms to hold you steady against his sturdy chest.
“Can't get rid of me now, little human.” He teases but the faintest edge of emotion cracks his voice.
A laugh escapes you among the tears.
“You’re a little human now too, bug boy.” You joke as the new nickname comes so easily to you.
“There’s nothing little about me, especially in this form.” He deeply purrs.
You’re about to snap at him for being crude until he shrieks.
“And bug boy?! You never even called me that before! If anyone is the bug freak it’s you!”
You laugh, truly laugh, and a warm buoyancy floats within your entire body. He joins in alongside you. His laugh is such a wild and free noise you want to keep it forever.
“This being a human thing,” he suddenly mutters against the top of your head. “Might take me a little while to get used to it.”
“It’s okay,” you whisper back, fully resting against him. “We’re all still trying to figure it out too.”
Satoru’s hand begins rubbing against your back effortlessly, so human and natural.
“You already seem to be doing a good job.” You mumble feeling sleepy again.
He hums amused. “I know. I’m just that good.”
You want to make a snide remark but then Satoru kisses the top of your head. Your heart jumps at feeling his lips.
“I get to do this all the time now.” He whispers slightly in awe, like he spoke a hidden thought out loud.
You can’t help but grin giddy.
Before, you had begun experimenting very enthusiastically about getting to learn how to kiss him in his old form. But you understand.
This felt right. It always did, even when you never wanted to admit it before.
“No more mothman.” Satoru mutters a quiet realization and you clutch his shirt.
“You’ll always be my pest.” You reassure him.
“Hey.” You can hear the mock frown in his voice and you snicker.
You think about Satoru as your cryptid emerging straight from legends.
If he was seen as a harbinger and warning of danger, it strangely has you thinking about love.
For what is love if not a warning? A ‘be careful, don’t run too fast, please be safe, please let me protect you’ warning morphed into a wish and want to keep someone safe. Horror and love sometimes walk hand in hand together after all.
In the arms of your harbinger, you wearily start falling asleep. Satoru senses it too and places another kiss on your head.
When he gently moves to rest you back on the bed your eyes glance to the window. The dark evening night stretches out deep and wide
Against the glass, you notice a fluttering movement.
Soft green delicate long wings catch the light from the hospital room.
Actias luna.
More tears brim in your eyes.
The beautiful lunar moth dances against the window, against the darkness, as if to greet you a warm hello and wish you well.
hii can i request something? a yedam imagine hah au : 8 - college!au, trope : 9 - strangers to lovers and prompt : 22 "did you hack into my hotspot?" i imagined it as their dorm being next to each other thanks in advance🥰❤
omfg it’s been ages since ive written so tysm for requesting!!! I hope you liked this <3
Bang Yedam - “did you hack into my hotspot?” college au! strangers to lovers!
You were running to the college’s library, you were in desperate need of wifi, as you had a 2000 word essay awaiting you, it’s due date within only a few hours. Instead of finishing the essay slowly over time, you had decided it would be best to procrastinate, leaving it to the very last minute which always lead to you crying because the stress became to hard to handle. But you always did get the job done with passing grades - the very minimum you achieved.
Right as you were about to open the door that lead to unlimited wifi, that you so desperately needed, a sign had stopped you “LIBRARY CLOSED DUE TO UNSAFE ELECTRICITY PROBLEMS”. Screaming internally, you wished you had gotten electrocuted right then and there, not only would you have recieved compensation from your college but you would have also been excused from handing up the essay due.
You decided to go back into your dorm and text your family if they were home, as you were texting your family. While going up the stairs, holding onto your laptop with your arm wrapped around it, the worst thing that could’ve happened, had happened. Not watching your stepping on the steps you had almost slipped, to prevent yourself from falling down, you had held onto the railing on the right side of you, the side that was holding onto your laptop. You thanked the gods for saving you but within the same moment all you could do was watch your laptop go rolling down the stairs, you cringed every single time it made a sound while going down each step.
As the falling of the laptop came to an end, you basically sprinted down the stairs to see if the damage was serious, and the damage was beyond repair. Your laptop was now in pieces and all you could do was stare at it in horror. You picked up whatever was left of the laptop and quickly made your way to your dorm. There was no time to cry over your laptop, you had a 2000 word essay due in less than 2 hours and if you couldn’t use your laptop to type it up, you were going to use your phone. Which had no access to any wifi or had any data whatsoever.
You knew it was morally wrong but you were beyond desperate right now, the essay awaiting completion was 70% of your grade, if you got good marks on this, you wouldn’t even need to worry about any other assignments or essays or even quizzes, and probably skip class for the rest of the semester, because you knew that was all possible, only if your phone had data so you could finish the essay.
You decided to hack into somebody’s hotspot, to be even more specific, you had decided to hack into your dorm neighbours hotspot, you didn’t know him particularly well, and he wasn’t even in your course. But you were sure he wouldn’t mind if you used a little bit of his data, right? So you did the morally wrong and hacked into his hotspot, wasn’t that hard either as his password was ‘shawnmendes’ and you could always hear him singing his songs through the dormitory walls, he was pretty good but that was beside the point, you quickly got to work and started typing up your essay - which was now due in less than 3 hours.
Finishing off your references, you had completely finished your essay with 10 minutes to spare, now all you had to do was submit it-
KNOCK KNOCK
Loud knocking was coming from the front door of your dorm, you sighed in annoyance as you had to quickly submit your essay so you could be in peace, but the person on the other side of the door was clearly not happy. Walking to the door while yawning you opened your door, about to lecture the person who was knocking when your words got caught up within your throat. It was your neighbour, the neighbour which you had hacked into his hotspot, and used his data for almsot the past 3 hours. You gulped in fear and decided to act dumb.
“Hi, it’s Yedam rig-“
“Did you hack into my hotspot?” Your neighbour asked, cutting you off completely.
“What?! No way! Why would I do that?” It was the only way you could get out of this, the amount of data you used would take you weeks of committed working to pay it off.
“Oh really? I’ll cut it off right now the-“
“No! Please don’t I beg you, I still have to submit my essay!!” Screw acting dumb, you’re desperate, you probably only now had 7 minutes to submit it to him, the sumbition of the task wouldn’t even take a minute, all you had to do was email the essay to your professor and then you were done, but your neighbour was obviously not letting you get off the hook.
“So you did hack into my hotspot?” It was a rhetorical question, you didn’t even have to verbally answer it but you did anyways.
“You really need to let me submit it cause I’ll be losing 70% of my grade if I don’t at least hand it up.” You had 5 minutes left, you were doomed. In his hand he was holding his phone with his thumb hovering over the ‘disconnect’ option, the second he pressed the ‘disconnect’ its completely over for you, all your hard work goes down the drain and the reason of it all would be because your neighbour... and because you decided to leave the essay to last minute, but that’s really beside the point here. You just turned around and ran to your phone, quickly submitting it, you didn’t care at this point, you only had a few minutes left before the deadline.
Letting out a sigh of relief you saw that the essay had been sent to your teacher, but turning back around you saw your neighbour gone, deciding to take a nap to sleep all the unnecessary stress away. Later that night, you got up, got ready and decided to go and try and get your laptop repaired, the option of getting it repaired was cheaper than getting a new one anyways. As you were exiting your dormitory, you see your neighbour, standing there with something behind his back.
“Morni-“ he started off before quickly being cut off by you.
“I am so sorry about hacking into your hotspot, and I know I used a lot of your data, I promise I’ll pay it ba-“ this time he interrupted you.
“You can pay me back by doing three things for me.”
“One, I want you to give me your broken laptop.” He took one step closer to you.
“Two, I want you to accept the laptop that I’ve brought for you.” He took two more steps closer.
“Three, let me buy you dinner.” He took three more steps closer.
Both his and your face were crimson red, “I’m sorry you don’t have to do any of these things if you don’t wan-“
“Deal.” You breathed out with a small smile on your face, his worried expression turning into one similar to yours.
“I’m Yedam.”
“I’m Y/N.”
The day that you considered ‘the worst day of my life’ wasn’t really the worst day of your life, despite having your laptop broken into pieces and almost having a heart attack because you almost didn’t hand up your essay, the day ended with you going on a date with your neighbour, Yedam, who was now your boyfriend of one year. Maybe it was fate or maybe it was a coincidence, whatever it was, you were beyond lucky to be blessed with a boyfriend like him, he was the same, beyond lucky to have you as his girlfriend.
Bad Taste
A commission I was allowed to post! I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy reading it :D
WARNINGS: Yandere! Chrollo, PT member! reader, female! reader, explicit nsfw, casual sex, mentions of explicit violence, mentions of murder, mentions of character death, reader is kinda immoral but that comes with the pt territory, dubious consent
"You have bad taste, you know that?" You said, lying on your side, tired eyes slowly moving over every choice that had gone into the design of the bedroom. At first glance, you would've called the excess of gold and silver gaudy, but then there was that minimalist abstract painting in the corner, or the classical bedside table made out of gray marble, and you decided even that descriptor wasn't fully applicable. The maximalism of a rich hoarder, was the only term that felt somewhat correct. "None of these pieces work together."
Chrollo smiled as he looked up from his book, participating in your critique of his interior design skills. "I'd call it the curse of having many interests. If you ask me, committing to a single style or type of art when there is so much variety in the world is as much a sign of bad taste as you consider this to be."
"The art nouveau brutalist bathroom is an abomination, Chrollo."
"Or so you continue to remind me. Would you rather I hang the Klimt with the byzantine sculptures?"
"No. I'd rather you throw those away. Or sell them." You sat upright and pulled the sheets off your body, sitting on the edge of the bed so you could stretch properly, your fingers tapping against the side of the mattress while you thought of what you were going to do next. Shower or get dressed and leave?. "Such a waste letting them get water damage."
"Stop suggesting we have sex in the bathtub then."
"No." Something about the clumsiness of sex in bathrooms had always appealed to you, and if you liked seeing Chrollo with his hair wet while he was bent over you, who’d judge you? "I don't think I will."
"I figured."
You stretched your arms over your head, feeling a delightful pull on your sore muscles. You’d slept badly, you always slept too lightly when other people were around, but the calm and laziness of the morning made the slight exhaustion lingering on your body feel less bothersome. There was nothing on the agenda today, so you could truly just go your own way. Perhaps you’d train a bit later in the evening, or visit a botanical garden if the weather was nice. Visiting gardens was always your go-to activity on lazy days, since you always felt truly at ease feeling your nen curl around so many different specimens, all responding to your commands. Controlling flora was a tricky ability, especially in less habitable areas like the dusty deserts surrounding Yorknew, so to be in a location where nothing would ever be able to truly harm you was comforting. You didn’t know whether that comfort came from the security or the control.
At the thought of your ability, you wondered when you’d use it next. The last time had ended a bit anticlimactically. You’d wrapped nettles around a man’s throat, only for him to suffocate and die in mere minutes, apparently allergic to the plant. You’d gotten in a bit of trouble, since he’d been meant to give information, but luckily his colleague knew enough to save your hide. When you’d started to master your own ability, you’d never considered allergies being relevant so often.
You lowered your arms and rolled your shoulders, looking back at Chrollo who was smiling ever so slightly. “So when’s the next heist? Or are you leaving to find new members first?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You are under the impression that killing Hisoka has no priority?”
Ah. You should’ve figured.
“Didn’t want to assume. Aren’t you supposed to be quite strict with the ‘no leg matters, just the spider’ philosophy?” You suppressed a smile at the mention of Hisoka, knowing any sign of affection, as small as it was, wouldn’t be appreciated. You didn’t particularly care about Shalnark and Kortopi, only having worked with them in passing for a few years, so it wasn’t like you felt betrayed by the magicians actions. If anything, you’d found Chrollo’s continual leniency on the magician’s schemes to be surprising, and retrospectively quite an obvious mistake. “Well. With eight or so members it’ll surely work out fine.”
It would. You’d only seen a handful of them in combat, but if they managed to corner Hisoka, he was dead, an opinion that was supported by the fact that Hisoka was already supposed to be dead, having lost to Chrollo in the arena.
You’d watched the show on television, a bit disappointed when it had stopped being broadcast due to the deaths of most of the camera staff. Either that, or the producers had chosen not to show such a massacre, as exciting as it had been. Even with gyo constantly activated, you had barely been able to keep up with the quick movements and techniques displayed, which had definitely increased your respect for Chrollo, the trust and belief the rest of the spider had in him definitely not unfounded.
You’d asked Hisoka in private shortly after his quasi-death and expulsion of the spider how he intended to fight them all off, certainly in close quarters, but he’d just kept it vague and acted indignified at your lack of belief in his capabilities. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe him to be capable of somehow pulling off something most would deem impossible, but rather that you really wished to know how he was planning to do so. A mystery is only as compelling as the explanation that is served, and you were left only with curiosity and impatience.
Still, you’d decided a while ago that you would bet on Hisoka. The odds were high that he intended to kill you along with the rest of the spiders if he ever got the chance, but you doubted he’d chase after you if you made yourself scarce before anything big could happen. The parts of the plan he’d clued you in on were compelling enough to bet on, since even if Hisoka failed miserably, you still had enough time to work out a second plan of your own.
"Just to sate my curiosity on the matter." Chrollo asked, looking over the edge of his book as you grabbed a short satin dress you’d worn yesterday night that had been discarded next to the bed. Pulling it over your head, you were relieved to not fully be naked anymore, not out of a sense of decency or prudishness, but because Chrollo’s stare tended to be a bit too appreciative for your liking. "Are you two close?"
You didn’t need to ask for clarification.
Truly, you liked Hisoka. He was an interesting figure and so upfront with his betrayals that you wondered how he still managed to fool anyone into trusting him. His style, his humor, his fighting style. It was all so uniquely him and yet at the same time so inhumanly distant that you had trouble seeing him as an actual person. Instead, he felt more like a character you could enjoy watching, and you would be lying if it hadn’t flattered you that he’d enjoyed watching you too.
"We're not intimate, if that's what you're asking." This was edging a bit too close to a discussion on your relationship with him for your liking. Chrollo, ever the achiever, didn't bore you with such things usually. Instead, he'd either lure you into some quasi-intellectual debate or just leave you be. Your favorite ending to one of these meetings had been when he'd expressed interest in some blockbuster that was airing, and you'd surprised yourself into inviting him to come and watch it with you. The movie theater experience, complete with popcorn and a soda, had been fun in a domestic way you'd not experienced in a while. Ranting about the bad quality of the film was also a fond memory, though you were not the type to grow attached to domestic activities. "Didn't think you were the jealous type."
"I wouldn't call it jealousy." He said earnestly, chuckling when he saw the disbelieving tilt of your head. "If anything, I'm trying to see whether you've betrayed the spider too."
You forced your eyebrows to lift in surprise. "Oh. I'd never. How little faith do you have in me?"
Whatever playful tone you’d placed in your words, it seemed to be the wrong choice, as you were pulled back into bed by your hair. The casual atmosphere had ended, and the pretense of this just being a chat was broken. His fingers curled around locks of your hair, pulling at your scalp, and the book was discarded somewhere on the bed.
You let it happen, finding the sting of his grip on your hair more comfortable than this conversation, especially since it ended up with your barely covered upper body sprawled over his lap. He looked down at you, and if he spotted your gratitude at this turn of events, he did not show it. Instead, he actually seemed angry, his entire face frozen on a blank slate. If he could not even find the state of mind to force a neutral expression, you’d definitely crossed a line.
Luckily, he acknowledged his own anger too, which saved you from having to navigate what exactly he was taking offense to.
"You've chosen a bit of an unfortunate moment to joke with me. Safe to say, I wouldn't call myself completely stable at the moment." It was at times like this that you truly appreciated his features, his face and body made to be cast in marble. Bloodlust only enhanced the image, washing off the false domestic and normal air that he clothed himself in to blend in. "It'll pass, but for now I'd urge you to give me a serious response."
That made sense in retrospect. Last night he’d been quite a bit more rough than he usually was. His hand had found your throat on many occasions, and while you did not mind being manhandled a bit, the force with which he sucked hickeys into your neck and the pressure of his arms around your waist had proven a bit intense at times. You’d just explained it away as a mood, but this made quite a bit more sense.
"How about this, I’ll give you a quick rundown of everything I know: I haven't spoken with him ever since that entire mess with Shal and Kortopi," His hand tightened around your hair, and you figured he didn’t like you minimizing the events that had occurred, but to be fair, he would’ve been more suspicious had you acted all respectful to his dead friends. "But he did tell me something beforehand which I think you might find interesting."
His expression did not change, but Chrollo did seem a bit irritated that you were playing coy. "Well?"
"The boat led by the Kakin Empire heading towards the dark continent. Apparently there will be some kind of contest held on board during the trip, and Hisoka seemed quite interested in it. If I had to guess, he's going to be there, trying his best to make the entire affair about twenty percent more complicated."
If you felt any regret having spoken those words, you didn’t feel it yet, though you kept the possibility open that you’d feel a bit bad about it later. If only, if only.
The seed had been planted. Chrollo probably had an inkling that you telling him this was intended by Hisoka, but that didn’t really matter. Hisoka wanted a fight, so it’d be out of character for him to suggest a fighting stage and not show up. The spiders would crawl on board, head toward the dark continent, a place so dangerous every expedition you’d heard of had stellar mortality rates, and hopefully they’d never return.
On the day of the departure, you’d stay behind. You liked excitement and part of you wanted to explore the dark continent and its mysteries as much as any other, but it’d be certain death for you if you went. There were too many things left to experience on this planet, and dying at the hands of either Chrollo or Hisoka left a bad taste in your mouth.
They were both dear to you, but you really hoped they’d kill each other and sink the boat.
"A hobby you two seem to share."
"As if you don't." You lightly admonished, smiling as his fingers were still pulling at strands of your hair, his eyes murderously intense as he stared down at you. "Well, are you going to kill me or am I free to go?"
"You seem to be misunderstanding something." He grabbed your face and made you face the wall, a multitude of painted faces in varying degrees of realism staring back at you. "Whatever I don't get rid of, I collect. And since I am quite fond of you, even if I deem your betrayal to go too far, I won't kill you. Instead, I'll pin you to these walls like those paintings you seem to hate so much and enjoy the sight of you until I feel ready to throw you away. Act with that in mind."
You suppressed a sigh and realized you'd been right in your assessment of where this was headed. A shame, even if it was way too late for you to take back your countermeasures anyway. "Chrollo, do you hear yourself speak right now?"
"I do. I know what I sound like." He sighed and let go of your face. When you slowly remade eye contact with him, he was looking quite pensive before he bent forward, closing the gap between you and him. For a second you hoped that he'd kiss you, just to cut this conversation short. You knew what was at the end of that road, while this was inching further and further into uncomfortable territory. “Don’t act like this is coming out of nowhere. I think you’re quite aware of the effect you have on me. I myself find it quite interesting at times, and in all honesty, it would be much easier to see exactly what you’re made of if I keep you a bit incapacitated.”
"That sounds quite scary." You said, less sarcastically than you'd intended, the sincerity of his words sending a shiver down your spine. The slight quirk of his lips, the complete nonchalance with which he'd admitted to his plans for you if you betrayed him, all made you believe that he was not kidding in the slightest. You'd always known it was a bit risky sleeping with the head of the spiders, but that danger had been part of the enjoyment. What fun was there in hooking up if there wasn't a risk of death involved? "I wasn't aware you felt about me like that."
"You have your moments."
"I see."
Being proven right was a bitter victory in this case, as much as you wanted to pretend it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You and Chrollo had spent many a night like this, and a few months ago, you had been quite pleased with the set-up, your post-heist adrenaline and bloodlust always being channeled in the best way possible, but in that same period you’d felt something start to change.
During heists he rarely deployed you, something that was even beginning to be noticed even by other spiders. Your abilities were being questioned, and you’d even heard that little black-haired shit wonder whether you always slept your way to the top. Three members had to remind you of the rule not to fight other spiders, because otherwise you would’ve gouged out his eyeballs and thrown his guts to the dogs.
It was insulting, and the mere idea that Chrollo was in love with you was even worse.
It made you uncomfortable to see a man you had so much respect for debase himself in chasing you. He never did anything outwardly romantic, but he stared, and you could tell that any time you spent with him was intriguing him. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. He was supposed to be better than that. You couldn’t stand it when he sighed after kissing you or left books on the dinner table for you to take when you left.
He couldn’t betray the spider, not in such an awfully human way.
And so you’d decided one morning while waking up in his arms, his heartbeat thumping underneath your ear, that you’d prefer it if he died. Death would freeze the image you had of him, of the ruthless and constantly shifting leader of the Phantom Troupe. Death would freeze all of them, since after Uvogin and Pakunoda’s deaths you’d noticed more and more cracks in what used to be a perfect formula.
Feitan and Phinks, who used to go off on their own in between heists, now seemed bound to the hip, their cruelty and ruthlessness a mere façade for what even a blind person could see. Franklin called Shizuku every few hours, checking in on her location and how she was doing. Nobunaga had completely lost it, even if everyone pretended to not see it, and you weren’t someone who generally empathized with unknown faces, but the civilian woman he’d fixated on after the death of Uvo was clearly having to deal with a lot of delusional bullshit.
The changes spread gradually, but the spider was not what it used to be. Most of the members had grown up together and preferred not losing one another, the recent deaths of those close to them proving they were not as okay with being replaceable as they’d pretended to be all this time. None of them would ever utter such a thing, but you noticed it regardless.
Being annihilated on the way to the dark continent, or at their destination, would be the best way for the spider. All in order to hold onto its principles. In some way, you felt like you were saving the man whose death you were planning, whose body had been pressed against yours so often. You’d never been the sentimental type, but the idea that you were saving a legacy from dying out painfully was beautiful to you. Chrollo wouldn’t ruin himself in your name. The others wouldn’t slip away into insanity and sentimentality.
Hisoka was the only one who knew how you felt, and had even agreed with your views, meaning he was the sole ally you had in this perspective. You’d spent years with the Troupe, and in some distant way, you loved the spider. Vaguely, you realized you’d accept it if Chrollo killed you now. Maybe he’d prove you wrong. Maybe he would get rid of your traitorous self, kill Hisoka and purge the spider of all that had desecrated it.
You would accept it gratefully.
Chrollo let go of your hair and his thumb traced a line across your forehead.
“Fine.” He breathed out.
“We’re leaving it at that?” You asked, cursing yourself for even responding, and even more for the desperation you felt at the loss of his aggression. Chrollo immediately moved, languidly shifting your body and his so you were below him once more, your legs on either side of his hips. He pushed his hair back and rubbed his eyes a bit before taking another good look at you. You couldn’t decipher his expression fully, but decided a mix of exhaustion and exasperation came closest.
“We’re not.” A hand moved under your waist and lifted up your lower body, slotting you against him. He bent forward over you and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him slowly wrap a hand around his cock and pump himself a few times. When he was sufficiently hard, he moved the hand with which he’d touched himself up to your mouth, two fingers patiently waiting on your lips to be licked. Knowing this song and dance, you opened your mouth, your tongue searching and finding his fingers instantly. Whilst you were sufficiently coating his fingers in spit, his dark eyes moved over your body. “We’ll be done once I say we’re done.”
The authoritative comment did little to turn you on, his possessive and romantically laced comments from earlier still making you feel weird. Still, when he pulled his fingers from your mouth and lowered them to your pussy to lubricate your entrance, the few flicks he performed against your clit did make your chest rise from the mattress a bit.
Pressing his forehead to yours, he quickly grabbed his cock and pushed it inside you, a satisfied sound leaving his throat as he successfully entered you. The pace he set was slow, gentle in a way that made you want to cry.
“Don’t betray me.” He said, and you felt your stomach turn at the pleading tone accompanying it. It was hard to enjoy the way he rolled his hips against yours, pushing his cock further into you, when your mind was miles away. How could you be present when all you wanted was to leave and forget he’d ever disappointed you like this. “I’ll do much worse than kill you if you do.”
That wasn’t a lie. He’d probably lock you up, steal your ability and hurt you until you didn’t have the strength to fight him anymore. Maybe he’d cut your legs off, maybe he’d bind you to a bed until malnutrition and muscle decay did the work for him. That part didn’t scare you, it was what he’d do after that that terrified you. He’d keep you with him, sleep next to you, and trace your injuries. He’d insist you read with him, watch movies with him, make love to him instead of the distant sex you preferred. He’d love you, earnestly and in his own way, and you’d rather die than experience it, since it would mean the man you loved was utterly gone.
“You know, don’t you?” He asked. “Please tell me you know.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, desperate for him to shut up.
Shrimp
Another Todou x Reader I wrote but didn’t post cuz I didn’t want to lmao, but since I haven’t posted anything all week I might as well. Don’t request nsfw because I won’t write it on demand. Hope this will make a few more people realize the absolute supremacy of Todou.
Warnings: use of drugs, non-consensual drug use, nsfw, yandere
“Are you that stressed?” Todou questioned. leaning on the table where your notes and books were scattered around. He let his eyes wander over the notes, your handwriting neat and tidy at the top of every page, before going off into chickenscratch at the bottom, your haste and stress even showing in your handwriting. “It’s only 30% of the grade.”
“I started too late.” You said, your fingers typing rapidly, your eyes nearly falling shut at every new word. You’d been studying for close to five straight hours by now, and you were already so tired, despite knowing you wouldn’t get to stop anytime soon. “And I didn’t do that well on the other exam, so this is make or break for me. I can’t fail this course.”
“Is it going well?”
“Nope.” You replied. “I’m so tired I could fall asleep like this, and I haven’t typed a decent word in the last hour.”
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