Chapter One: Plunging Back Into The Darkness

Chapter one: Plunging back into the darkness

Word count: 3.7k

Category: hard angst, smut

Chapter warnings: a bit of smut, drugs, mentions of medicine and hospitals

Summary: There are three hot guys who want to be with you, however, there are a few problems along the way. One of them is a plug, another one wants to keep you all to himself and the third one - a med student who deals drugs on the side. Your main problem, though? You have a terminal illness that has a very low life expectancy. Spiraling down a dangerous path seems like a fun way to spend your last years.

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It‘s depressing. The walls are white and blank of any pictures, posters, drawings – anything. It‘s constant and monotonous, boring. The smell is always the same too – something old, disinfectant and cleanliness. It’s always dim, too. You like visitor days — the smell and mood in the hospital changes, then. You love it the most during the holidays though. It’s as if even people who hadn’t had visitors in a while suddenly have a line of people desperate to see them. The mix of perfumes, smell of the food that isn’t the bland kind the hospital provides and their natural body odor makes you sick most of the time, but your days are still a bit brighter. 

It’s just a bit before Halloween when Mattsun visits you again. You’re sitting in your bed in sweatpants and an Aoba Johsai hoodie, which you got from none other but the dark haired man standing right before you.  

“Hey,” he greets you, casual as always. Issei’s dressed in black baggy jeans with an oversized dark green hoodie, hair as messy as always – a bit longer than it was during high school – and countless rings adorning his long fingers. You notice he’s still wearing the one you’ve had gifted him for one of his birthdays – a dainty forget-me-not on a silver band, contrasting with the massive skulls and snakes on the other rings. 

“Hey, Mattsun,” you respond, a small smile finding its way to your face. The pastel yellow hospital room always seems a bit brighter when he’s around, even when he doesn’t fit into the room properly. His frame looks surprisingly big in this tiny room, which only contains a bed, one uncomfortable chair, a table beside it, a tiny closet and a small tv. He seems out of place in the dull establishment. 

“I’ve brought you a few things,” he finally says, sitting down beside you and taking off his backpack. Your eyebrow raises up. It’s not unusual for him to bring you snacks or books, but your intuition tells you that today it’s something different. 

You’re right. Issei pulls out a string of fairy lights, but instead of the round bulbs  it’s tiny jack-o-lanterns that should light up once you plug the lights in. And then he pulls out a fluffy black blanket with a bunch of small skeletons drawn all over it. 

“Thought your room could use a little bit of décor during the spooky season,” he grins, same as always and you can’t help but pull him into a hug. He knew you had a bunch of medical tests during Halloween and he couldn’t even take you out after — long work hours and all. This was his way of saying sorry, of apologizing for making you spend one of your favorite holidays alone. 

“Ah, Mattsun, thank you, these are amazing,” you lift up the blanket, admiring the happy little skeletons. He helps you put up the fairy lights and then you sit back down again. Today, you don’t really have the energy to go outside and walk around in the park around the hospital. Mattsun doesn’t really mind though, or at least he seems not to, absentmindedly playing with your hair as if curling and uncurling your strands was the most entertaining activity in the world. 

“Oikawa is throwing a Halloween party so him, Makki and Iwa probably won’t show up. I’m working and I’ll only be out when the visiting hours are over. You sure you don’t wanna invite over Lev or some other friend?” 

You boop his nose and give him a loop-sided smile, “Lev’s in New York right now. I’m fine with spending Halloween alone and I don’t want my friends to skip parties just ‘cause I’m lonely. Besides, I’ll probably be irritable after all the tests, anyways,”

Issei stays silent for a moment and then his eyes light up, as if he’s connected two dots in his head.

“The pretty medical student’s group is having rotations at the hospital during Halloween, right?” it seems like he couldn’t be more delighted as you bury your head in his shoulder, not wanting to see his self-satisfied smirk. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you grumble, “or maybe you’re wrong.”

He lifts up your face with one huge hand to squish your cheeks. His hand is scorching hot. It always surprises you. It’s like Issei’s body temperature is abnormally high.

“That’s why you didn’t seem down at all  when I told you I had work during Halloween!” Issei says, still too enthusiastic to have found out your big secret, “Y/N, you know you’ll be a real bitch if you replace me with that trust-fund pretty rich bitch boy, right? And that I get jealous easily?” He shakes your face, side to side, “Right?”

You turn your face to the left, then to the right until he lets you go, and then you stick your tongue out. 

“That was a whole lot of epithets to describe a person you don’t know,” you poke fun of him, as if you hadn’t found about a thousand ways to describe how handsome he was during long evenings spent with Issei, “Besides, I was grieved, you hear? Grieved and languished when I found out you were working during Halloween, but… The pretty trust-fund kid relieved my pain by like… 15 percent,”

“And you still haven’t talked to him…” Mattsun drawls, “You just watch him and then tell me how he’s so pretty and oh, how his bed-head looks so nice, but you haven’t said more than a “hello” to him,”

“I’ll talk to him, eventually. For now I just gotta look pretty and smart. Who knows, maybe he’ll talk to me first,” you retort and cross your arms.

“Or you could just talk to him,” Mattsun leans back until he’s basically laying down in your tiny bed, “I’m sure he steals glances at you too, not exactly a lot of attractive med students and you’re a bit above average.” He chuckles. 

“Hey!” you poke his side, hard and Issei grabs you by the waist and pulls you on top of him, making you giggle. 

“Okay, way above average. Some people might even say you’re attractive,” he raises his arms defensively and then puts them on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles.

“Some people?” he nods, “But not you?”

“Maybe I do too,” he wonders, “But if I tell you, you’ll get all blushy, giggly and shit,” he kisses your nose, gently and you let out a sigh, “And I have work soon,” Issei gives you another kiss, this time on one of your cheeks. 

“So?” you ask, eyes all big and doe-like. It makes Issei give you a lopsided smile. 

“So, if you get all blushy and giggly,” he rolls over and now you’re trapped under him, looking up with lust-blown eyes,, “I’ll get hard and that’s not exactly a problem I can get rid of in five mins.”

You bite your bottom lip and lift your pelvis to grind against his growing erection. Issei lets out a grunt. 

Your relationship is weird. Occasionally you have sex, go on unofficial dates when you feel strong enough to, and all his friends know you’re off-limits. But you’re not official. And the wonderings as to why that is, find their way into your mind way too often. Friends with benefits? Yeah, sure, if friends with benefits are that emotionally attached to each other. 

Not today, not now though - you don’t let yourself wander off. You’re only focused on Mattsun’s lips kissing and nipping away at your neck. 

“Maybe I want you to get hard,” you whisper in his ear and give it a nip.

“You’re a minx, you know that?” he takes some skin in between his teeth and bites. Hard. 

“Ow, you asshole,” you swat at his chest, only causing him to chuckle, “That’ll leave a mark.”

Issei licks the bite mark he just left, as if that will make it better. 

“Yeah it better. Don’t need no pretty rich boys stealing away my girl,” and then he finally kisses you on the lips. He tastes the same as always – marlboro gold cigarettes and citrus flavored gum. Comfortingly familiar. 

“Your girl?” you question, in between kisses. Your whole body feels warm just at the name. You know you shouldn’t overthink it, but you can’t help it. It feels so good to be called his girl.

“Yeah, what about it?” he smirks and rewards you with another kiss on the lips, making you part yours and give him full access. Citrus floods your tastebuds and you moan into his mouth. 

One of his hands travels from your back and slowly reaches into your sweatpants, finding your panties - unsurprisingly - wet. 

His fingers circle around your clit and you break the kiss, your head leaning back and lips soundlessly parting from the sudden pleasure. 

Before you can give an answer to Issei’s previous question or let those few minutes before he has to leave turn into much more fun activities - there’s a knock on the door. 

Immediately, you’re off of him and on your feet. Mattsun sits up and then the door opens. 

A young nurse walks in, carrying a glass of water and a bunch of colorful pills. 

“Oh, sorry Y/N, didn’t know you’d have visitors. Matsukawa,” she acknowledges the man on your bed, having seen Issei enough times to recognize him, “Time for meds,” she puts them on the bedside table alongside with the water glass and you let out a sigh of relief. Pain was kicking your ass for the past hour.

She stares at you for a bit, her eyes focus on your neck and slightly widen. Your hand instinctively lifts up to cover the hickey Issei left.

She leaves without acknowledging it further. 

Matsukawa lets out a chuckle that slowly turns into a loud, uncontrollable laugh. 

“Now what are you laughing at?” you cock your head to the side, taking the pills and washing them down with big gulps of water. 

“Imagine if she hadn’t knocked.” 

“Then,” you’re on top of Issei again, “She would’ve seen way more than a hickey you left on me,” you giggle.

Issei grunts. 

“Babe, as much as I would like to stay there with you and explore,” his hand trails down, “More fun activities,” he softly kisses your nose and then boops it, “I gotta go to work- have an evening shift today,” 

“Yeah yeah, go make coffee for rich snobs,” you respond, finally standing up and letting Issei do the same.

He smoothed out his clothing, a confident grin finding its way to Mattsun’s face.

“What?”

“Admiring my work” 

You kick at him, but he catches your ankle just at the right time, squeezing it until you yelp and then he let’s go.

“Asshole,”

“Yeah yeah, you love me,” before you can debunk his statement, Issei is at the door, “Who knows, maybe one of those rich snobs,” he mocks you by making his voice higher, “Will be your pretty med student,” 

“Doubt it!” 

“I’ll tell you if a pretty snob with a bed-head comes in,” Issei retorts and he’s out the door before the slipper you’ve thrown can reach him. 

You sigh and fall back to your bed, curling into a ball. The pain is back and it seems that the meds didn’t really help. Well, at least you’ve managed to keep it together until Issei left. Good. 

***

Halloween comes quickly and the hospital empties. A lot of people go back home for the holiday and you’re thankful.

After all the medical tests you went through in the morning, you’re still grumpy and the silence is enjoyable, rather than eerie.

You’ve had an hour until med students came in for practice, but that passes quickly. 

You fix up your clothes, jumping into a pair of jeans that make your ass look great and a comfy sweater. Not overdressed, just pretty enough for the handsome med student.

Whose name you’ll ask. Well, if you gather enough courage, anyways. You can’t keep letting Mattsun tease you.

You’re out the door of your hospital room, notebook and pen in hands, head lifted up. A deep breath, reminding yourself that you deserve to be in the med student practice as much as others do. 

What they don’t know won’t hurt them. And as far as they’re concerned, you’re one of them and don’t spend half your time in the hospital as a patient.

Today you’re divided into smaller groups. You’re supposed to observe surgeries and take notes. You wonder what kind of surgery you’ll have to watch today. Skin graft ones are the worst and you pray that today, it’s not one of those. 

Your hopes are killed and buried 6 feet under, when you walk into the designated operating room. Of course it’s a fucking skin graft surgery. The man laying on the operating table has a nasty burn on his cheek. The skin is raised with a  leathery texture and is dark brown in colour. Third degree burns. 

Although, maybe fortune isn’t fully mocking you - the pretty med student is here, alongside a few others. His bed-head is wilder than ever before and bags under his eyes could put a raccoon to shame. 

You remember that you’re standing at the door and instantly move, not wanting to make it more awkward than it already was. Did he notice you staring? Hopefully not. 

You stand closer to him than other students. He glances down at you, golden brown eyes quizzically. You want to punch yourself. Thoughts running through your head wildly. Don’t look like a creep, Y/N fucking speak, damn it.

“You look like death. Do skin graft surgeries make you a bit sick too?” you manage to say, voice higher than intended.

The corners of his lips twitch up, “No, just a long night.” 

You raise one of your eyebrows up and he chuckles. 

“Not like that. Was helping a friend out. You, on the other hand, look like you just saw death.” 

Hah. A clever joke. You just called him death a second before. You open your mouth to answer, but then the surgeon walks into the room and you’re left without the satisfaction of a snarky comeback. 

“Okay, you guys already know what kind of surgery we’re doing today and if you don’t - get the fuck out of this room,” surgeon’s words earn a few laughs and his eyes crinkle in a smile, which is not visible beneath the mask, “Does anyone know what kind of grafts we’ll be using?” 

You know the answer. Time to leave a good impression on the trust-fund kid.

“You’ll be using full-thickness grafts,” you manage to respond and the surgeon nods.

“And why is that?”

“The burn is on the face of the patient, it’s not too big and, uh, full-thickness grafts tend to have a better cosmetic outcome than split-thickness grafts.” 

“That’s right,” the surgeon nods and the dark-haired guy leans down, to whisper directly into your ear,

“Smart and cute? Maybe practice won’t be so boring, after all.” 

Your cheeks burn and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to avoid the bright smile creeping its way onto your face.

“I have way more, um, good qualities than just being smart and cute.” you respond, not letting him get the upper hand in the situation. You still have to find out if he’s flirting or just teasing, though.

“I’d like to find out, those… Personality traits of yours,” he replies.

Yes, flirting, definitely flirting. Maybe, just maybe, Mattsun’s advice to talk to him wasn’t all that bad.

“I’m L/N Y/N,” you introduce yourself, putting your hand out for a handshake and for the sole purpose of finally putting a name to his face. 

“Kuroo Tetsuro,” he smiles and takes your hand into one of his huge ones. It’s surprisingly warm; comfortingly so.

One step further to getting to know the mysterious Kuroo Tetsuro. You’ll have to tell Issei about this

***

A week or so after Halloween, Lev takes you out. He has a week of vacation, so he uses it to get back to Tokyo and you two choose the best day to spend together, which is hard; taking into account that you’re a hospital patient and he’s busy with his modelling job. Yet somehow, you manage. 

“How’s your health?” he asks, tone reminding you of your mom. He has your hand in his and you’re thankful. Your energy is quite low today so the support tall man provides is helpful. Lev’s green eyes study you, as if that would help him find all the answers he sought. 

“Can we not talk about hospital stuff when we’re out? I wanna enjoy my time with you.” 

Lev lets out an awkward chuckle, his free hand finding its way to his platinum hair.

“Sure, sure,” he says and pats your head, “I’m glad to see you. Really missed you.” 

“Aw, Lev, I missed you too,” you say, voice sweet and a smile playing on your lips, “I saw your most recent photos on Instagram. Almost one million likes? People must love you!”

He shrugs, “They just love my face. The few interviews I’ve done aren’t nearly as popular as my photos.” 

You can’t help but laugh, “Don’t complain. Not a lot of us can make money off of our faces alone!” 

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Lev answers, absentmindedly and then suddenly lights up, “Hey! How’s it going with that handsome med student? Don’t tell me you still haven’t talked to him.” 

“I have actually!” Lev’s facial expression turned to surprise, “Oh, don’t be so shocked. I even asked him for his name!” 

“And?”

“And what?” you cock your head to the side, a bit confused.

“What’s his name, dumbass?” he gently flicks your forehead and you frown,

“Oh! Oh, it’s Kuroo Tetsuro.”

Lev suddenly stops and fully turns to you.

“Kuroo? Black hair, kinda tall, always with a bed-head?”

“I- Yeah. Also, not kinda tall-“

“Shorter than me,” Lev interrupts and before you can respond that everyone is shorter than him, he continues, “He was the captain of my high school volleyball team, a really good guy actually, surprising, since you usually like assholes.” 

Lev doesn’t like Mattsun; Mattsun doesn’t like Lev. Silly conflicts from high school and such. Before you can argue that Issei is, in fact, not an asshole, Lev turns to you, face painted with worry.

“Listen, I can’t talk from experience since I haven’t seen him since he, uh, graduated, but I’ve heard he’s doing some real  shady business now.” 

“But he’s a med student,” you frown.

“Yeah, being a med student doesn’t really make you immune to doing shady things,”

“Maybe- maybe they’re just rumours,” you reckon and Lev shakes his head. It’s unusual for him to be so serious.

You’re going past a run-down skate park when he looks around and quickens his step, almost dragging you with him.

“Ah, Lev, I can’t go that fast. Why are you-“

The tall man’s eyes are focused on a person, who’s leaving the skate park and coming straight towards you.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, not slowing down, “See that man over there? Suna Rintarou. I really, really don’t want to deal with him right now.” 

“Okay,” you say, in between breaths, “Okay.”

Lev is calculated and cold, but you’re beginning to panic. What could be so bad about meeting Lev’s acquaintance?

Well, you’re about to find out because the tall man, Suna, you remember, catches up to you. 

Lev stops in his tracks, stepping in front of you; his height almost covering you.

“What do you want, Suna?”

The man clad in worn-down blue jeans and a bomber jacket full of patches, smirks. There’s a cigarette, hanging from his lips. No, not a cigarette. A blunt. If you had more time to collect your thoughts, you’d even say he’s stupidly handsome.

“What? I can’t say hello to my old friend? Didn’t you miss me, Lev?'' His voice, saccharine as can be, cuts through the tension like a sharp knife. 

“No, not even a bit,” Lev answers, voice cold and devoid of any emotion.

“I need a favour.” Suna says, not waltzing around with words.

“No.”

“Not even gonna listen to what favour I want to ask for?”

“No,” Lev answers once again, firmly. His hand finds yours once again and squeezes, hard, “Frankly, we should keep going.” 

“Ah, don’t be like that. Hey! Maybe your friend will help. What do you say, sweetheart?”

The pet name sounded so condescending, but it’s in your nature to help people. Too kind, as Lev often said.

“No-“ Lev begins and at the same time you answer:

“Y-yeah?” You can’t help but stutter. God, where is your voice when you need it the most? You stand beside Lev now, not hiding anymore.

Suna takes in your appearance, humming in thought.

He grabs your glove-clad hand and before you can answer, yanks you towards him. You almost trip and Lev is about to rip Suna’s head off when the black-haired man unbuttons two buttons of your coat and puts something inside your inner pocket. One of his hands brush against your skin and it’s ice cold. You shiver and take a step back from him. Lev is seething. 

“They’re doing a raid. And I’ve already been caught a couple of times. Can’t do jail time. And who’s gonna think such a sweet looking girl has drugs? Nah, man.”

Drugs. You have drugs in your inner pocket.

Lev pulls you close to him and is about to take the baggie out of your pocket and tell Suna to shove it up his ass, when the distinct figure of a police officer begins walking closer to you. 

You blanch, legs feeling like jelly.

“Right on time,” Suna drawls as he smiles down at you.

The police officer gets closer with each passing breath. 

You’re screwed. 

i love angsty smut 😩

“BURN.”

— suna rintarou x f!reader

— cw: reader feeling depressed. slight angst. fluff. mentions of drug use (weed). nsfw. vaginal penetration. praise. burning(?) as in: you ask him to press the lit end of the blunt to your skin while he fucks you so it’s kinda dark. but like, you ask him to fuck the sad out of you. soft sex, i think. aftercare is implied i think.

— violet’s note: i accidentally deleted the fic like a dumbass. thank u mous my saviour forever and ever hskshsjs

Rintarō is a good boyfriend.

That’s why he gives you everything when you’re sad and feel like a ghost wandering around.

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oh- OH

"Pay up"

— gold

♡˖°꒰ ukai keishin x fem! reader

❥  t/w  |  nsfw, daddy kink, spanking, hair pulling, very light degradation, 18 y/o manager

»  keishin can’t wrap his head around his feelings for you.

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Word count: 3.2k

Caregory: angst, smut

Warnings: depression, depressed reader, toxic relationships, someone needed to be an asshole in this so Tsukki is, kind of toxic Akaashi too, smoking, choking, cigarette burns.

Summary: Akaashi is always there to put you back together, granting your every wish. Even when you leave him without any message and disappear for two months. You could say that he has a soft spot for you

City of stars, are you shining just for him tonight? That’s what Akaashi is wondering. The stars are surprisingly bright tonight, as if knowing that now is when he needs their comfort the most.

Akaashi is mindlessly watching some stupid, mind-numbing late night program on his tv, trying to forget about the manga he has to finish editing until next week and… Other things.

The half-smoked mint cigarette hangs from his lips as the man lets out a sigh. He’s not anxious. Therapy and maturing has helped him calm his overthinking and anxieties a bit. He’s good at his job; he’ll manage to meet the deadline. However, other things cloud his mind and he’s not as good with that as he is at his job.

Akaashi’s phone, which was carelessly left somewhere in the kitchen, rings. He inhales the final breath of minty smoke and puts out the cigarette on the heart-shaped ashtray you had gifted him a long time ago. Akaashi finally stood up, lazily strolling to the kitchen, the light of his phone lighting up the big room in dim blue light. He picks it up and swipes "accept" without looking at the contact name. Probably Bokuto, wanting to hangout soon. Or maybe his boss, reminding about his deadline, or…

Keiji freezes on the spot when he hears your voice. It’s so quiet and weak that he thinks one breath from him will take it all away and he’ll wake up from a dream.

"’Kaashi… Keiji… Keiji, It’s bad again," you whisper and his heart breaks in real time; the pieces left from the last time you broke it, shattering into even smaller ones. Two months without seeing you. Two months without hearing from you. Two months without smelling your perfume, without touching your skin and hearing your voice. Your laugh… Well, he hasn’t heard that eternal sound for even longer. Two months, eight weeks, fifty six days, one thousand three hundred forty four hours since you had left him for another man.

Tsukishima Kei swept you away alongside Akaashi’s will to do anything but work until he almost passed out. You ghosted everyone from your life, it wasn’t only Akaashi. Last thing anyone heard about you — your friend Dina told Bokuto that you moved in with a "tall, blonde man". And now there you were again. Alive and calling him. Asking him to make everything better like he always used to. To come and take the pain away, even just for a minute. It hurt to breathe but just hearing your voice made the shards left of his heart pull closer together. Some selfish part of him wanted to hang up. To tell you to go find Tsukishima and fuck off. His rational part was horrified, that thoughts like that would cross his mind. He didn’t particularly dislike Tsukishima during high school days, damn, even liked the guy, but he couldn’t forgive him for doing this. For sweeping you away from him.

"You at your old place?" Keiji manages to ask.

"Y-yeah," there’s a sniffle and something clutters to the floor. Fuck, thag can’t be good.

"Okay, darling, okay. I’ll be at your place real soon, yeah? Unlock the door for me, ‘kay?

He doesn’t wait for your answer. He’s slipping his shoes on, grabbing his long, black coat and dashing out the door. His body remembers the routine way more than he thought it would. Maybe all those moments Akaashi rushed to you after a single phone call asking him to come, did that to a person.

He didn’t have the time to think that through. He was in his car, speeding through the busy streets of the city just to get to you. The hope of seeing your face again numbed most of the pain —the loss of you caused.

He’s at your door in what seems like a minute. The door is already unlocked so he just walks in. The smell of your home fills his senses and it’s as if his head clears. Oh, how he missed this. His coat is now hung up, shoes put away and he’s stepping in the tiny living room. There’s a lump of colorful blankets and you’re somewhere underneath. A step away. Real and alive. Real, alive and breathing — wanting him to put you back together. To make you feel better, to make you feel like you’re alive once again.

“Y/N, darling, I’m here,” the words come out in the softest voice he can manage and your head lifts up. Your hair’s a mess, eyes empty and dull. He can’t stand to see you like this, pain searing through his whole body. Some fucked up part of him is glad to see how much you need him though.

“Keiji, need you,” you whimper, “Want you to fuck the sadness out of me.”

It’s how it always went. Like a dance you both knew the steps to, perfectly well — he comes over, you guys fuck, he bruises you up a bit since you always beg him so prettily and then he’s there to pick up the pieces — listen to your ranting, asking you if you’ve been keeping up with drinking your meds and making sure you have something to eat.

He’s always there. And he would always be, no matter how much it hurt him to.

He takes a careful step towards you, lifting you up from your fluffy hiding place. You’re in his lap not even a moment later, head too heavy to hold, buried in his neck. You give it a little peck and his whole body burns. It’s like he’s some junkie going through withdrawal and your touch is the drug he so desperately craves. He’s turning his face towards your’s, slightly chapped lips kissing away at every millimeter of skin he can reach. It’s messy, it’s passionate and Akaashi doesn’t even notice the tears freely flowing down his face. A shuddering breath leaves his lips. Oh, how much he needed this.

“Keiji, need you, please,” you sigh in between kisses, one hand pawing at his pant-clad crotch. You have trouble keeping yourself up, but the need to be fucked until your brain is unable to make coherent thoughts makes the task easier.

“Yeah, yeah, need you too, pretty girl. Need to touch you,” he moans when he takes off your huge hoodie and sees that you’re not wearing anything underneath, nipples perking up at the temperature of the room. Akaashi’s hand, the one not holding onto you, paws at your breasts, squeezing until you gasp. Is it fucked up that he wants to cause you pain? You asked for it everytime you asked Akaashi to fuck you, but now he craved that himself. He craved the teary look in your eyes, the way you hit his chest when it got a little too much.

After letting himself indulge for a few moments, he lays you down on the couch, climbing on top of you, gently helping you get out of your sleep shorts and simple black panties. Cute, real cute. Akaashi missed you so much he couldn’t put it into words.

“Spread your legs for me, pretty girl,” he murmured, your legs instantly parting. Good, you haven’t forgot how you’re supposed to act. Your hands almost naturally find their place on Akaashi’s shoulders and his fingers are reaching for your pussy almost instantly. One finger circling the clit, the other easing into your hole. Tight, still so fucking tight. Akaashi groaned.

Tsukishima couldn’t fuck you as well as he could, right?

Keiji didn’t let himself overthink it. This moment was about you two; there was no space for the ‘third one’.

His second finger bullies it’s way alongside the first one and a third one joins next. It takes a while to find the spongy spot he used to be so familiar with. It doesn’t take long before you’re coming undone, pushing away at his clothed, hard chest from the overstimulation of Akaashi helping you ride out your orgasm.He’s smiling. That self-satisfied grin you know so well.

“Please, take off your clothes, Keiji, it’s uncomfortable,” you squirm under his gunmetal gaze and he obeys.

A single raise of your hand and he’s doing everything you ask for. It was always this way. His clothes are discarded on the dirty floor, littered with bottles of water and empty chips packets. He’s back to his position, careful not to let any of his weight fall on you. You admire him. Those big, doe-like yet still dull like before, taking in every detail of his body; from his lean physique, to his shoulder-length wavy raven hair and lithe fingers, still soiled with your clear juices. Your cheeks burn at the sight.

Akaashi’s fingers come near your mouth and you obediently part your lips, eager to take what he provides. He knows better, after all. He knows how to fix you. You clean off his slender fingers and Akaashi can’t help it - cloud-grey eyes narrowing as he pushes his digits deeper, digging until you’re gagging and only letting up when tears light up your beautiful eyes. When he finally pulls them out, he absentmindedly wipes them off on your skin. You shiver at the warm sensation and close your eyes.

Keiji pulls out his dick and it’s as pretty as he is, not too long, nor too thick, but still a lot to take; beautiful, flushed tip already leaking precum when the black-haired man gives it a few strokes. Your mouth parts to let out long breaths.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” he asks, voice calm and collected, the complete opposite of you right now.

“Yeah, just haven’t- haven’t been with you for so long,” you shiver. Akaashi can’t help but seethe, remembering that you were with another man. Two whole damn months.

He lines up his cock with your hole and just slams it in with one smooth motion. Everything is white for a moment, you’re unable to see from the pleasure-filled pain. His cock slammed into your cervix, but he’s nice enough to let you get used to his length. You keen, not sure what you want Akaashi to do right now when the veins adorning his dick create mind-numbing friction. One of Keiji’s hands ghosts your neck, gently squeezing it and his gaze softens when you lean into his touch, craving to be hurt.

“I’m gonna move, sweet girl,” he warns you, but doesn’t give you time to think of an answer — Keiji is slamming into your tiny pussy, letting his head lean back. He’s blissed by the pleasure, fucking his fist for two months just wasn’t the same. Not even close. Pretty moans leave Keiji’s perfect lips, no matter how much he tries to suppress them. You’re just laying there, taking it, eyes cloudy and half-lidded. Mind probably already numb. Silly little thing.

“Keiji… Keiji, love,” the pet name rings in his head, the huge hand still wrapped around your willing neck squeezes. Hard. The silver ring wrapped around one of his fingers digs into your soft skin. You’re killing him. Giving him just enough to let the hurtful memories flow. It doesn’t seem to bother you.

Face content and calm, “Can you, can you burn me, please?”

You’re as sweet as ever. As if nothing ever happened. As if he’s responsible for making you feel better. Fuck. He knows he is.

“Yeah? You want me to burn you? My girl is a little fucking masochist?” it’s easy to slip into his degrading persona. Akaashi knows how much you love that. You don’t crave praise. Don’t want to be called pretty, don’t want nice things. You want temporary pain, to forget the real one that might never really go away.

You dumbly nod at Akaashi’s words, mind not putting two and two together, his cock still pounding away at your pussy, uncaring of your own pleasure. Keiji pulls out and you whine, hands automatically reaching for him, as if he would ever leave, now that he got you back.

The tall man finds a pack of mint cigarettes, left in the pocket of his black jeans. There’s a tiny daisy embroidery on the pocket done by you a long time ago. When you still had the energy to do anything. When he didn’t have to beg you to live another damn day.

Cigarette finds its way to the man’s lips and he quickly lights it up. You sigh happily, when Keiji slides his cock back into you, finally letting his fingers massage your clit. You let out a shuddered moan, pleasure burning all thoughts away.

“Ah, you’re so good to me, Keiji. So good, ah,” and with a particularly harsh thrust, the pleasure building in your lower belly snaps and you’re coming, creaming around his lengthy cock and as white hot pain surges through your whole body. Akaashi presses the hot end of the cigarette between your perfect tits. You scream, in pain and in pleasure, mumbles of “please” and garbles of his name praying for something. Something to take the pain away? Something to hurt you more?

Akaashi gives into his temptations, taking a long drag of the smoke, marking up your tits a few more times, letting you grab his shoulders and pull him close, crying away at his firm chest.

“Thank you- ah! Thank you so much, Keiji,” you breathe out and that’s all it takes for him to finish.

Your whole body turns warm as your inner walls are painted white. You’re so full. And so obedient to him. What a good girl you still are. It’s as if nothing has changed. You’re Akaashi’s again and everything falls back into place. Everything is where it’s supposed to be. You’re - in Akaashi’s arms, and Tsukishima somewhere damn far away.

You lay like this for a while - Keiji’s body on top of yours, everything sweaty and sticky, still keeping his body weight from crashing down on your tired body. He dresses up and makes you take a bath then; washing your hair for you, using a comforting vanilla smell body wash to clean your limp body next.

He can’t help but admire the marks he’s left. It’s a sign that you’re his. And he is yours. Eternally, forever. And no one can change that. No one knows how to help you, like he does.

Keiji dresses you in comfortable clothes and helps you get onto the bed after changing the sheets before laying you down. Tch, he bet that Tsukishima let you lay in messy sheets, never once changing them. Akaashi scolds himself. So much for not overthinking, so much for maturing. He was as insecure as he was in his teenage years, just learned to mask it better.

You pull Akaashi towards you, stopping his thoughts. He complies, undressing until he’s in his shirt and boxers, laying down beside you and pulling you close to himself, holding your body tight.

“I want to talk to you,” you mumble, still turned away from him with your back to his chest.

“I’m listening, baby.”

"You wanted me to feel better and I… Didn’t particularly want to get better. I guess- I guess the sadness, rash mania-driven decisions and my dependency on others has become such a big part of me that I thought…I thought that I would be empty without it."

"You wouldn’t." he interrupts your rant, pulling your shaking hands into his, gently rubbing your knuckles in an attempt to calm you down a bit.

You lift up your face to catch his eyes. Akaashi is already looking, "What?"

"You wouldn’t be empty, Y/N. The girl I met at high school… You were happy back then. You were cheerful, a bit loud and could make anyone like you. And even if you," he gently turns you towards him and caresses your face when you want to look away in shame, "think that you’re beyond fixing, or empty without your illness, you’re just wrong. I still see those traits in you. How you’re still you in the way you cheer up your friends. How you’re still you when even the delivery drivers seem to instantly like you and how you’re still you in understanding that it’s not bad to ask for help when you need it."

You don’t answer him. Somewhere deep in your mind, you know Akaashi is right. You know that he isn’t just trying to fix you to his liking, you know he doesn’t want you for the sex, despite how many times Tsukishima made you believe that. You bury your face in Akaashi’s neck and let his warmth embrace your limp and tired body.

"He told me that you wanted to make me into the version of myself that you wanted," you confess, quietly murmuring the words against the skin of his neck and Akaashi’s hands embrace you tighter. He can’t get mad now, but damn is it hard to keep his composure, "Keiji, he told me that you only wanted to fuck me ‘cause girls like me were compliant and easy to fuck," words flow out freely as you finally let go all the pent up sadness, confusion and a web of lies that you’re still so deeply tangled in, "He- he told me that you stayed with me because I was easy to hurt and that guys like you- prefered girls like me. And he let me skip taking my medicine. He said it was my choice and that he’s not gonna make me be happy and how he liked me the way I was-“ your voice breaks. You can’t say any more words.

It takes all of Akaashi’s strength to not get and go to Tsukishima’s place. Beat him up until the fire under his skin no longer burned, until he felt satisfied with the results, until he knew that you were out of the reach of the blonde’s manipulations and him. Akaashi Keiji is not a violent man, but when he sees you more fragile and broken than you were before, just because of one man and his lies, he can’t help it.

“It’s not your fault.” Akaashi kisses your face, “I know you think it is, but it isn’t. We’re gonna get you back on your medicine and you’ll go to that- that therapist downtown that you said helped you, yeah? We’re gonna get through this together. I’m always with you. I’ll help you. And… I love you, Y/N,” the confession rings into the stuffy silence of the small bedroom and you freeze in his arms.

Your lifeless eyes reach the open window. Your apartment is on the highest floor with light pollution not quite reaching it. The stars are clearly visible. Hundreds of thousands of little lights scattered across the night sky. It’s beautiful.

"The sky is so beautiful tonight, Keiji…" your voice is barely above a whisper, "A graveyard of stars."

Yes, the stars must really be shining for him tonight. He falls asleep with the thought of brighter tomorrows and a better future.

Iwaizumi x f!reader; cheater!Oikawa x f!reader

Word count: 6,4k

Category: Angst, Smut

Warnings: Cheating, cursing, sex, some choking, slapping and mentions of violence (reader basically asks to be hurt), daddy kink (not ddlg), scummy Oikawa being an asshole, kind of toxic Iwaizumi, uh, that’s about it? Dm me if I missed anything.

Summary: Having your heart broken by Oikawa Tooru is unexpectedly hard, but it’s even harder to let yourself fall for someone new.

Songs that inspired this: “Sparks” by Coldplay, “Song for a guilty sadist” by Crywank and “Skinny love” by Bon Iver 

Huge thanks to @velvet-kissesss for editing this and always being the first to read my stories! <3

Oikawa Tooru is like the sun. His smile is as bright as a summer day, his gaze as cold as ice, but he‘s still your sun. Or he used to be. Clouds of doubt that came in the form of suspicious text messages and excuses clouded his brightness and warmth that never really cleared away. 

He‘s busy busy busy. You‘re always wasting his time, you‘re always annoying him with your silly messages, asking- no, begging for his time; which you know you won‘t get. Your eyes and heart are completely filled with Tooru, your sun.

Even his friends notice the odd behaviour of their former captain yet they mask their concerns for your wellbeing with jokes and laughs once you stop showing up to their weekly dinners. 

The storm started when you overheard the conversation you weren‘t supposed to hear. It‘s a rare occasion to be home at the same time as Tooru, even in your shared apartment, your boyfriend so kindly paid for (You offered to pay rent, but even if he would‘ve accepted your offer, a broke college student would never be able to afford it). His voice sounded slightly annoyed, the notes barely there, but from the time you spent together you could clearly tell he was having an argument. 

“I’m not fooling around. I don’t know what to do,” 

You couldn’t tell what the argument was about, but you pressed yourself against the living room wall that divided the two rooms. Eavesdropping wasn’t good, but you were worried for Tooru. He was never home, never shared his worries and now he was getting into arguments. Your anxiety was rising. What if something was going on? 

“I’m not leading her on, you don’t know what you’re talking about! The only girl you’ve ever dated left you before college started. Adult relationships are so much harder,” 

There was only silence for a moment that seemed to stretch out into infinity. 

“I’m thinking about ending things. I think… I’m almost sure I’m falling out of love with her,”

Everything went silent until then the ringing in your ears took everything away. Your head was spinning, eyes unable to focus on anything, lungs suddenly filled with water and throat with sand. Empty. Empty, so painfully empty but full at the same time. You were the ‘her’ of the conversation. You were the girl Tooru was falling out of love with. 

You didn’t feel yourself falling onto your knees. You didn’t hear the loud thud, you didn’t even notice how cold the floor was until your silent bubble was popped by Tooru’s voice. 

“Shit, Y/N!”

His arm on your shoulder felt so heavy. Too heavy, the water filling your lungs seemed to spill out of your eyes, tears running down your face. Oikawa kneeled before you, pulling you into him, letting you bury your face into his sweatshirt that used to smell like your perfume but now smelled of something unfamiliar and unwelcoming, his hand in your hair stung colder than ice. 

He lets you cry, lets you grip him so hard, as if you think that letting go would be deadly and lets you whisper quiet “You don’t love me’s” until your throat becomes sore. 

“You heard everything,” it wasn’t a question, rather a statement. His hand reached your back, rubbing in gentle circles but it was anything but calming. You felt as if you couldn’t let go because as soon as you did, Tooru would disappear. Your sun would never shine anymore. 

“Don’t leave me, Tooru. Don’t leave me, please.”

His eyes watch your form, so defeated in his arms. 

“I won’t.”

You’ve been together for such a long time, you’ve been there through the highs and lows, always cheering him on, always there to greet him with a smile after a long, stressful day, always so willing to do anything to make him feel better even if your late night love-making ended in being unable to walk the next day and having to conceal the finger-shaped bruises left on your frail neck. Maybe it’s the stress of trying to balance college and volleyball. Maybe it’s the way seeing your face and feeling your gentle touch doesn’t put a smile on his face anymore. 

You at least deserve another chance. Another chance before he’s sure he fell out of love, even if he knows he has. 

“Y/N, I won’t leave you, I won’t,” he repeats like a mantra, like he wants his words to fill you full, like he wants you to believe it; even if he himself won’t. 

You don’t remember being carried to the bed, you don’t remember Tooru covering you in a soft, fluffy blanket but he’s still there when you wake up, with your back pressed against his chest, his long arms draped over you and his head resting against your shoulder. 

It's idle, it’s painfully normal that you can almost pretend nothing bad ever happened, that he still loves you the same way he did before. You can almost feel the brightness and warmth of the sun after being lost in the dark for so long.

The next few weeks go by fast and Oikawa keeps his promise. You never feel lonely, constant fancy dates that feel foreign after such a long time and the awkward smiles of his friends when he starts bringing you with him again. 

It almost feels too good to be true. And it is, as you learn when you return from your shitty part-time job earlier than usual. 

Don’t fly too close to the sun or you will burn. And you were burnt. Like Icarus, the wax of your wings melted and your false feelings of security you held onto are shattered into tiny pieces, never to be collected by anyone. 

He’s in the arms of another woman, another pair of lips is kissing away at his skin, tainting him, the sight making you dizzy when you can’t take your eyes off of their tangled bodies.

The woman notices you first, yelping and pulling the covers to save any dignity she has left. Oikawa can’t look up. He’s physically sick, any minute and he’ll throw up. Is he mad because you showed up early or is he disgusted by himself? The feelings mix into a dangerous combination and he’s unable to say anything. 

Only when you open your mouth do the apologies begin pouring out of his mouth, the girl beside him long forgotten as he climbs out of bed, pulls his sweatpants on and chases you into your shared bedroom. 

He catches your wrist and tries to tug you closer when you reach for anything you can. Your charger, a few clothing items and your favorite perfume he gifted you, tossed carelessly into a bag and all that’s left is the sorrow in your eyes.

He wants- no, he needs you to be mad, but as tears flow down his face he can’t help but shout at you, grab you by your shoulders and violently shake you until you plead to him to let you go, until there’s fear mixing in with the tears in your eyes. 

After he releases his iron grip, you storm off. All there’s left is the bruises starting to bloom on your skin and the voice of another woman. 

Oikawa throws up soon after that. 

***

Your phone is overwhelmed with notifications from missed calls and messages, but you run until your legs are sore and your lungs are burning. The bag in your hand is the only thing still grounding you to this world while your tears mix with the pouring rain as you fall on the cold, slimy sidewalk once again; your tights ripped and dirty. 

You reach for the door already shaking and even more pathetic-looking than before. The doorbell rings a silly melody and you consider walking away before you make a fool out of yourself, but you don’t have the time to re-think that decision when the door swings open, a slightly annoyed looking Iwaizumi standing before you.

His scowl drops as soon as he sees it’s you and his features form a worried expression when he takes in the state that you’re in. 

“Y/N, what- What the fuck happened?” he doesn’t wait for your answer, already ushering you inside as the warmth of his home seeps into your tired, frozen body. 

“I-“ 

He guides you to the living room immediately before turning up the heat and sitting you down on a couch, before sitting beside you.

You don’t dare look at him. 

“Y/N, tell me what happened.” 

He’s worried and you shrink into yourself, the feeling of guilt unbearable. You’re not worth the worry.

“Oikawa he…I found him having sex with another woman.” 

The words come out fast, like ripping off a band-aid. Iwaizumi frowns, his lips part in disbelief. Oikawa told him he was falling out of love with you, but… cheating on you in your own home was a whole ‘nother thing. 

Iwaizumi didn’t know if his face showed any obvious disgust or anger, but your hands started shaking. 

“Should I go?” your eyes find his, fluttering shut to hide the glossiness, “Iwaizumi, tell me if you need me to go. I know that Oikawa is your friend and that I’m just some girl he dated but I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t know who else to call,” 

He can feel your uncertainty and stress so he does the first thing that comes to his mind; gently grabs your hands, flinching when he finds them ice-cold. 

“First of all, you’re not just some girl, I have known you since our third year of high school. I’m your friend as much as I’m Oikawa’s. And I won’t let you go anywhere, not in the state you’re in.” 

You stare at him in disbelief, hands still shaking. 

“Yeah, Iwa, we’re besties for life,“ your voice breaks as you try to make a joke. 

You can’t help but burst into tears again. Pathetic, fucking pathetic and annoying. Your thoughts run wild, trying to find a reason why Tooru did this to you.

Iwaizumi pulls you into a tight hug while you’re left with your arms awkwardly hanging limp by your sides, your tears and snot soiling his shirt. 

“Listen, you’re cold and your clothes are wet. How about you go take a shower while I make you something to eat? Then we can talk more about it, if you want to. But you will catch a cold staying in those wet clothes.”

The kindness is unexpected. You knew that the dark-haired man never lacked compassion, but he was so painfully kind. Too kind.

“Iwaizumi- It’s too much. I-“ 

He doesn’t let you finish, already letting you go to bring you a set of fluffy, fresh towels. 

“It’s what any friend would do. Please listen to me, I don’t want you to get sick. Please.”

There’s too much “please’s” in that sentence, but you do as he asks and let him guide you into the bathroom, pretending to listen when he tells you something about using any shampoo and shower gel you want.

And then he leaves you alone. Painfully alone again.

You undress, the wet clothes falling to the floor. Your biceps have handprints imprinted on them and you can’t stand to look at yourself anymore as you climb into the huge bathtub. 

The water is boiling and it feels like your skin is going to peel off as you trace patterns on your tired body, trying to burn Tooru’s touch away; but no water could ever be hotter than the sun. 

You don’t know how you find the strength to wash your hair, but the musky, citrusy smell of Iwaizumi’s shampoo untangles the knots in your hair, keeping your head empty. Or, as empty as it can be.

You don’t know how much time goes by but you’re sitting down with your back against the shower wall when a knock comes. 

“Y/N? I don’t want to bother you and you can take your time, but I went through your bag- I- I uh wanted to find you some clothes, didn’t mean to snoop around. But- Uh, but you don’t have any warmer clothes packed so I brought you some of mine. I’ll leave them by the door.” 

There’s no footsteps and you realize he’s waiting for an answer. Is he worried? Afraid you’ll drown yourself in his shower? A soft laugh slips past your lips. 

“Okay.” your voice sounds like it doesn’t belong to you; too distant and unrecognizable. 

The footsteps fade away and you decide to not feed into Iwa’s fears as you step out of the shower, drying yourself off. 

Wrapped in a towel, you open the door and grab the pile of clothes Iwa has left. There’s a pair of panties and a bra from your bag, then a pair of sweatpants and a huge hoodie you don’t recognize so they must be Iwaizumi’s.

Getting dressed feels like a chore. Your arms are heavy and your legs feel like they’re made out of wood. Iwaizumi’s clothes smell just like him, musky and citrusy, erasing the smell of sex that haunted you since you stormed out of your home.

The clothes fit you weirdly but you can’t complain, because they’re warm and comforting.

An aroma coming from the kitchen almost makes you dizzy again and you realize that you haven’t eaten today. 

“Sit down,” suggests Iwaizumi, as soon as you step into the kitchen, “I made ramen. It’s not anything fancy, but I didn’t do any grocery shopping recently. We, uh, I could order you take-out if you’d like that more?”

You hop onto one of the comfortable chairs and muster a smile. 

“Iwa, it’s fine, ramen is fine.”

That seems to calm his concerns, even if for a little bit. You eat in silence. He seems to observe you, blushing as soon as you catch his glance, but you don’t have the energy to ask him anything. 

You want to help him wash the dishes, the guilt of him being so kind and you not being able to do anything in return, but he just asks you to sit down, assuring that he’s got this.

He stands before you after putting the dishes away and once again grabs your hands. You don’t know if it’s to comfort you or because he doesn’t know what to do, but his hands are cold and unfamiliar; though his touch isn’t unpleasant or unwelcome. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You manage to shake your head, letting it fall into his chest. The position is awkward, but one of his hands almost automatically begins massaging your back in slow motions. 

“Ok, we will not then. Makki- uh, Makki said that you liked watching ‘Howl’s moving castle’?”

You lift your eyes, raising an eyebrow at the brunette’s statement. 

“Makki remembers stuff like that?”

Iwa lets out a dry laugh, as if trying to lighten the atmosphere. 

“He said you made him watch it with you twice.”

A ghost of a smile graces your lips. 

“No one else would, so Makki was my only option. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy it. I even heard him talking to Mattsun about it.”

It seems like your mind wanders off for a second. ‘Good’, Iwa thinks. 

“Do you want to watch it right now? I can bring you a blanket and like, snacks or something? Or you can go to sleep if you’re tired, I already made the bed.”

You’re lost in your thoughts for a moment and then your gaze meets the former vice-captain’s olive eyes again. 

“Can we um, can we actually watch ‘Jurassic park’ instead?” you ask, uncertain. 

“Yeah, of course we can,”

A good hour passes and you’re halfway into the movie, hidden almost completely under the warm blanket, when Iwaizumi turns his face away from the TV to focus it on you. His slightly chapped lips part, as if he couldn’t voice his thoughts. 

“Everything okay?” you ask, turning your attention away from the blood-thirsty dinosaurs chasing a group of people. 

“Why did you pick this movie?”

You feel heat flood your cheeks, palming the material of the blanket.

“It’s one of Tooru’s favorites. He likes watching dumb dinosaurs and even dumber people.”

Your answer is quiet, but Iwaizumi knew the answer even before the words left your mouth, he only needed you to confirm it. How does watching a movie that the ‘person who cheated on you’ liked could bring you comfort?

“I know it’s stupid and God, um, I probably look pathetic right now and all but,” you pause to take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill all over again, “If I watch it closely enough, I can almost convince myself that everything’s like before. That we’re watching a movie with you and Tooru and he just left to get a drink.”

Soft cries that you fail to silence leave your lips as Iwaizumi pulls you closer, not resisting enough to look at you so hurt and defeated. It’s probably weird to hug you as much as he did today, but you don’t seem to mind, burying your head into his shoulder and crying away. He’s not good with words;  the complete opposite of Oikawa, who makes small talk and comforting words look effortless. Physical comfort is his only way Iwauzumi can show that he truly cares. 

It’s a good half an hour before you’re asleep in his arms, the movie long-forgotten. Iwaizumi’s eyes take in your form. You poor thing, Iwa didn’t really know how to help you or take your pain away besides taking care of you the best he could. 

He reaches for his phone on the edge of the sofa, wanting to check the time and probably carry you to the bed but he finds tons of notifications still ongoing. They’re all either from Oikawa or the groupchat of the former third years. 

He doesn’t bother responding to Oikawa, opting to read the groupchat. He can’t care enough to read all the messages they’ve exchanged while he was gone so he scrolls a good bit. 

Shittykawa: fuck, you really don’t know where she is?

Makki: for the 10th time, we tried calling her friends. 

Makki: none of them know, how do you expect us to know?

Shittykawa: just fuck

Shittykawa: shit, this is so bad. What if something bad happened to her?

Mattsun: Yeah? Something like her boyfriend cheating on her?

Mattsun: Oh wait :D

Makki: mattsun, now’s not the time

Makki: oikawa you fucked up and I want to personally beat you up, but blowing up the groupchat won’t help you find Y/N

Makki: take a breather, calm down. I’m sure she just went to some friend we don’t know or something

Shittykawa: I’ll try calling her

Iwaizumi scowls, fingers typing out a fast response.

Iwa-chan!!: don’t

Matssun: Iwa? Wtf 

Iwa-chan!!: she’s at my place

Iwa-chan!!: she’s safe and asleep, just finished crying her eyes out

Shittykawa: what the actual fuck

Shittykawa: I’ve been calling fucking everyone and NOW you decide to tell me she’s at yours?

Makki: why is she at yours tho? 

Mattsun: Yeah, would’ve guessed she went to Mina’s or smth

Iwa-chan!!: well im her friend too so

Makki: yeah, it’s just weird

Mattsun: She also could’ve went to ours lol

Makki: good thing she’s at Iwa’s

Makki: I couldn’t handle another marathon of fucking studio Ghibli movies

Mattsun: Where’s Oikawa tho? 

Shittykawa: omw to Iwa’s

Iwa-chan!!: wtf no

Shittykawa: I’m taking her home

Mattsun: Yeah, probably not the best idea

Iwa-chan!!: she just fucking cried because of you, you think she wants to see you

Makki: you should give Y/N space, Oikawa

Makki: I doubt she wants to see you rn

Shittykawa: don’t care

Shittykawa: open the door Iwa

Iwa grunted, gently moving you away from his shoulder and slightly increasing the sound of the movie, not wanting to wake you up when the inevitable screaming match between him and Oikawa breaks out. 

Makki: wanna bet ¥1000 that Iwa at least slaps Oikawa?

Mattsun: Nah, I bet ¥2000 that they get into a screaming match and wake Y/N up 

Iwa puts his phone down, not bothering to read any more incoming messages and moving to open his door. He doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to look his best friend of so many years into eyes. Doesn’t dare wonder what will happen when you wake up and see Oikawa here.

Despite so many reasons to not open his door, his arm automatically reaches for the handle and swings it open. 

Oikawa stands there, looking like a ghost in the pale moonlight. His features seem blurry in the light, warm brown eyes now cold as ice. He pushes past Iwa, uninvited and slams the door shut, eyes searching for any sign of you, as if you’re just going to appear out of nowhere. One of Iwa’s hands clutches Oikawa’s shirt sleeve and holds it tight.

“She’s sleeping, don’t you dare go and fucking wake her up after the day she’s had,” grunts Iwa, dragging his best friend to the kitchen. Despite being there so many times before, today Oikawa seems out of place. 

“I’m taking her home,” states Oikawa, once again. 

“No, you’re not,” retorts the dark-haired man, “Sit the fuck down and let’s talk.”

Oikawa begrudgingly pulls out a chair and sits down. They’re looking at each other for a moment, not daring to break the silence. It almost feels like everything is okay, for a moment, like nothing happened, like it’s another quiet evening spent talking at Iwa’s house. If Oikawa concentrates hard enough he can almost imagine hearing your’s and Makki’s banter over the movie choice for tonight and Mattsun chuckling. Almost. 

“What the hell were you thinking? I thought everything was going okay,” Iwa tries to ask calmly, but the way he talks through his gritted teeth alarms Oikawa that they’re not about to have a quiet, calm conversation. 

“I wasn’t thinking. Y/N wasn’t meant to walk in.”

“So you planned to cheat on her and just go on with your life, God I-“ Iwa stops to take a deep breath. He knows he needs to keep himself level-headed but it’s so fucking hard, “When you told me that you’re falling out of love I was hoping everything would turn out okay. Even if not, I thought you’ll just break up with her, not… Not that,”

Oikawa looks lost. His eyes trace the coffee mugs on the table, then reach the colorful rag near the sink and then travel back to Iwaizumi. Hajime knows that his friend is looking just above his eyes, avoiding the judgemental gaze. 

“What am I supposed to do now?” the former captain’s voice is merely a whisper, the confidence it always carries gone. 

Iwa sees the way Oikawa is suffering, yet he cannot find it in himself to feel sorry for the former captain. The complete and utter selfishness of his actions; disgusting. 

“Get out and sleep it off. Let her rest, that’s the best you can do.” 

“I want to see her, to apologise, to-“

“Would you want to hear apologies from your partner, who you just caught cheating on you?” Oikawa’s face drops even more, if possible. A frown takes its place on his guilt-ridden features, a bunch of different thoughts making it hard to focus.

“I fucked up- I,” Oikawa’s searching for words, but can’t seem to find any, “There’s no coming back from this, is there?”

Iwa looks up. Seeing Oikawa in so much pain almost makes him physically ill. He feels conflicted. He wants to comfort his best friend, tell him that everything will be okay, that this situation has a solution, but Iwaizumi has never been a good liar. The former vice-captain manages to nod and they sit in silence until there’s footsteps. 

Oikawa scrambles to stand up, already at the kitchen entrance before Hajime manages to catch him. It’s like their conversation flies out of Oikawa’s head — he’s trapping you in a tight hug, whispering promises and apologies, while you just helplessly stare at Iwa.

“Let me go, Oikawa,” you mutter, voice completely powerless and void of any emotion. The usage of his surname sends a shiver down Tooru’s spine. Small details begin to fall into place – your red, puffy eyes, the way you hold yourself like you just want to hide and the fact that you’re wearing his best friend’s clothes. You smell like Iwaizumi and that finally snaps Oikawa out of his trance. He lets you go, “If you have any respect left for me and my feelings, please leave”. 

You say the sentence with such exhaustion that it seems like it’s physically hard for you to speak. 

“I’m gonna leave, alright?” He leans a bit, so that you can look straight into his eyes. It seems like he has been crying too. You catch Iwaizumi’s gaze in your peripheral vision, “But please know that I’ll be waiting for you to come back, okay? 

Your eyes wander away and he abruptly grabs your shoulders. You notice Iwa tensing up. 

“I know you’re too smart to listen to my apologies, but please consider it, okay? I know you love me, Y/N, so think about it. I’ll come pick you up anytime, alright?” 

You manage a nod and just like that – Oikawa is gone, a quick goodbye to Iwaizumi and he’s out the door.  It hurts, hurts so fucking much. A moment of enlightenment then complete darkness again.

“Y/N…” Iwa is careful when he hugs you, like he’s afraid to hurt you. You step away so that you can look into his eyes. Dark green mixed with olive and brown tones seems to magically reel you in. You just want the pain to go away, even if for a moment. You’re so incredibly close to him and you can’t resist – your lips connect and you close your eyes. Iwaizumi doesn’t seem shocked, and even if he is, he instantly kisses you back. 

His lips are slightly chapped and his hands explore your body carefully – every move and touch thought through. 

He pulls away for a moment and your arms instantly reach to pull him closer, to go back to the state with no thoughts and problems – just pure passion, kisses filled with sadness and longing. 

“Do you really want this?” he murmurs, almost into your lips, “Do you really want me or am I just a temporary replacement you can imagine Oikawa’s face on?”

He can read people so well, even if it doesn’t seem so. There’s nothing else besides physical affection and a long-lasting friendship. You trust him, you trust him to take the pain away, to make you forget your sun. 

“I want you to take the pain away,” you answer him and your lips meet once again, “Please, Ha-ji-me,” you say his name in between kisses and Iwaizumi curses himself. 

He’s an awful person and an even worse friend – leading, no, dragging you into his icy cold bed, when he should be comforting you, kissing away at your neck and quickly undressing you instead of calling Oikawa to come up with a way to fix this mess. He can’t help it, he can’t help himself from marking your pretty tits up when he’s wanted you since third year in high school, since you were utterly and completely Oikawa’s. 

Having something so forbidden is exciting and Iwa knows that he can still back out, can still stay a good friend to Tooru, but why not just give him a taste of his own medicine? God, his moral compass is all fucked up. 

His fingers softly massage your clit until they dip lower, slowly and softly fingering you while his thumb plays with your clit. He swallows up your sweet moans and mewls within his mouth, kissing you roughly and full of passion.

“Good girl,” he mutters, leaving yet another mark on your neck, the possessive side of him enjoying the already visible bruises that litter your upper body. 

You whine when he thrusts particularly hard, hitting the spot that almost makes you instantly cream around his fingers.

“D-don’t be gentle, okay? I’m not gonna break,” you manage to say in between moans, “I want you to cause me physical pain, yeah? O-oh- so t-that I can forget why It’s hurting so much,”

Iwa’s brain seems empty. On one hand, he should be comforting you, not hurting you, but on the other hand, how can he say no when you look up at him, utter and complete sadness clouding your teary eyes, short pants slipping past your plush lips. 

“You want me to make it hurt?” he chuckles, one huge hand enclosing around your neck with the other still inside you, grinning when you lean into his cold hand’s touch, desperate to be ruined, “Okay, I’ll do that.”

Iwa’s not a sadist in bed, most of the time, but you asked him to make you forget. And to be honest, he really wants you to forget. How euphoric would it be if that fucked-out look would be reserved for him only? 

“A-ah, can I come, please?” you ask, hardly able to talk, pupils dilating, hands trembling and reaching to grab his snow-white sheets, looking for something to hold onto. 

“Good girl, such a good girl asking for permission,” he mumbles and your eyes light up, but then the hand on your neck squeezes harder and you’re left with your mouth agape, watching Iwaizumi’s delighted face as he fingers you into completion, “You have to ask nicely if you want to cum. What did you used to call Oikawa?

His fingers slow to an agonizing pace and you let out a groan in frustration. Iwa wonders if he’s crossed a line with his questions, but all his worries are calmed down, when your eyes sparkle with fresh tears and you manage to sob out a frantic “Please, daddy, please, can I cum?” as if you’re afraid the brunette will take away your pleasure. 

“Cum” he orders, high on the power you basically handed to him without any resistance. And then he watches you come undone on his fingers, your face filled with ecstasy as you keen and cream around his fingers.

Iwaizumi gives you a moment to get yourself together and breathe as he moves his hand away, but after that he’s expectantly shoving his fingers with your juices towards your face and beams when you suck his fingers clean; even without him asking. 

He strokes your cheek and pulls out his pulsing cock out of his boxers. He’s so impossibly hard and he just can’t wait to be in you, feeling the heat of your tight walls on his dick. 

You look down and your eyes become as wide as saucers – he’s no longer than Oikawa, but definitely thicker, oh you just know you’ll have trouble walking the next day. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, baby,” he chuckled, “Let daddy take care of you.”

There’s thoughts rattling through your head for a moment, but then you give in and nod – still not able to completely think after a mind-numbing orgasm. 

Iwaizumi lines himself up with your creaming hole and then pushes in. You mewl and keen, but he keeps going, swallowing all the noises with comforting kisses, knowing that If you’d really wanted him to stop, you would’ve told him so. Inch after inch and he’s finally bottomed out – your pelvises rubbing together. 

“I’m gonna move now, yeah? Pretty girl,” he can’t help but praise you – so pretty, all submissive and blissed-out just for him.

Iwaizumi’s thrusts are hard and fast – it seems like he wants to engrave the shape of his cock into your tight walls and his name into your fuzzy, pleasure-filled brain.

“Daddy-“ you whine, “So good, feels mmhm- feels so goo-good!” you scream, biting at his neck, making the brunette suck in a harsh breath. 

“Yeah? You’re gonna be my good girl after this, huh?”

You can’t focus your thoughts to answer – the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the way his muscles are flexing when he grabs your hips, the way he smells, the-

Iwaizumi slaps you. Not hard, but hard enough to get your attention and for pain to begin blooming in your cheek. 

“Daddy asked you a question. I expect you to answer, honey.” His green eyes are darkened with lust, pet name condescending. 

“Y-yeah, gonna be your good girl, daddy,” you pant, breath coming out in short puffs.

From your expression and the way you’re clenching down on him, he can feel that you’re close.

“You on birth control?” Iwa asks, not completely lost in pleasure, still able to think, but fuck is the thought of coming in you hot.

“Y-yeah,” you cry out, “Cum inside me, yo-you can cum inside me,”

That’s all it takes. His vision flashes, strong arms trembling and squeezing your hips even harder and then he paints your walls white. You come soon after – a little stimulation to the clit and you’re coming on his softening dick. 

You stay there for a few moments, both breathing and collecting yourselves. Iwa falls to your side, pulling you close to him, tucking your head under his chin, your hot breath tickling his neck.

“Thanks,” you manage to say, before blacking out. It seems like today’s events really tired you out. Hajime doesn’t mind. He could get used to this. Used to you in his bed, used to you being completely his. He couldn’t get used to the guilt though. He stays up, lost in thought, until first rays of liquid gold begin leaking through the curtains.

***

Iwaizumi picks up your things from your’s and Oikawa’s place. You’re miserable yet again – asking Iwaizumi to do it for you through hiccupping sobs. 

His best friend of many years has your bags ready, your shared apartment weirdly empty, cold and unwelcoming without your things. 

“So she’s really not coming back,” Oikawa mutters. He looks even more miserable than you; it’s fucking depressing and the guilt comes back stronger than ever. Fuck.

“Well you can’t blame Y/N. You cheated,” Iwa retorts, tone colder and harsher than he intended. 

“Yeah, that,” Tooru laughs, a noise so empty and pathetic that his best friend cringes, “Does she have a place to stay?” 

“She’s staying at mine’s” 

“You’re fucking, aren’t you?” Oikawa chuckled and Iwaizumi froze, “Figured. I have no reason to be mad at you, Iwa, but I fucking am. Still feels like… She’s mine, you know? And I really wanna fucking beat you up for touching what’s mine, but I’m not going to do that,”

Iwa nods. His best friend was always too good at reading people. Too good for his own good. 

“I’m going to Argentina soon. Got a good deal to play at in professional team while still being able to finish my studies,”

“That’s… That’s amazing Tooru,” Iwaizumi is excited for him – there were no doubts that he was going to make his dreams come true, but it’s like a weight has lifted off of Iwa’s shoulders; Oikawa is going to be miles away from you and you’re not going to fall back into the setter’s awaiting arms. 

“I know you’ll feel like she’s completely yours when I’m gone, but I’m not doing this for you. I want to change, to be a better person. A new country might help. But I won’t be gone from her life, yeah? I’m still her friend, even if it's a really shitty one. Time heals people, who knows what the future will bring.” Oikawa smiles and Iwaizumi’s heart beats in his chest. 

“If you want to get back with her someday-  I won’t- I won’t let you. Okay? Yeah, you have everything and she’s mine. You had your chance, Tooru,” Iwa is about to walk out, your bags in his hands, but there’s something stopping him. Right, “Text me when you’re there, tell me how you’re doing. Still want to know that you’re safe.”

“Will do,” Oikawa responds and the door to his apartment closes. It’s over.  

*** 

Iwaizumi blocks Oikawa’s number from calling you. The less you know the better. He’s away now and he doesn’t have time to call you. Everything is over and you’re happy with Iwaizumi. 

But when you press his hand against your neck harder and harder, the look in your eyes looks something close to a prayer, begging. He doesn‘t know if he should cry for himself or for you, because you‘re asking him to hurt you over and over again, harder and harder, for the physical pain to replace the everlasting ache in your heart; if even for a moment. You are completely and utterly Oikawa Tooru‘s and no matter how many  “I love you’s” you whisper into Iwaizumi’s neck on lonely and self-hatred filled nights, when the sun is replaced by the moon, he knows that you’ll never be his. That he’s never going to be your sun. He knows from the way your hands reach for your phone as soon as it rings, from the way your face drops when it’s not the voice you crave to hear, from seeing your eyes tear up when you’re looking at him, your head spinning from trying to imagine a different face instead of Iwaizumi’s. 

It's stupidly foolish of him to hope that he could ever be enough for you. That he could ever replace Oikawa, replace the man you compared to the sun. Iwaizumi was cold and bitter, the care and worry always masked by a scowl. Could he be your moon at least? Would you ever be satisfied with the coldness of the moon, when you once had the warmth of the sun? 

Iwaizumi doesn’t want you to answer the questions he never voices, the ones you have probably already answered hundreds of times in your head. 

All he can do is pull you closer and hope to be enough. The night is filled with sounds from the city that flow through the open window alongside the darkness. He can almost pretend he doesn’t feel the uneven rise of your chest, almost ignore the quiet sobs you try to hold in. 

Iwaizumi buries his face into your hair, the citrusy and musky smell of his shampoo filling his senses assuring him that he’s not in the wrong here. 

So why does it feel so bad to be selfish for once? To hold you in his arms like this, seeking to give you the comfort he knows you crave from another. 

Why does it feel so bad to keep you away from the sun?