Mesmerizing (killua x black reader)

Chapter 38

9:11 at the door..

"y/n.." the name toppled from his lips like a spell. Something in the atmosphere shifted just like the coldness in his light blue eyes. Something in the air needs you. That something is him. "yes?" you whispered, leaning against the door. The light behind him flickered ever so slightly, "I need you.."  he whispered back. 

There was visible restraint in the way he eyes longed for yours. The way he massaged his neck. but it wasn't just him. Your eyes traveled to the lining of his jaw. The plump of his lips. The soft glow in his eyes. "I can't stand to be away from you" he mumbled.

"Then come in" you stepped aside, letting him into your starfish decorated room. You shut the door, and the click was louder then It should've been. 

"why is your room better low-key better then mine" he said as he analyzed the starfish instead of jellyfish decorations.  "Because i'm high-key better then you" 

"that's a crazy assumption when you compare our house sizes" he says cockily, flopping onto your bed. You walk over, resting your hands on your hips. "I don't need a mansion to better than you" 

"hmm, but I'm also smarter than you and stronger" he sits up, wearing a small smirk. 

"BOYS are only stronger because of the increased testosterone which also causes impulsiveness and aggression" you stare down at him, raising an eyebrow. Though Killua just looks like he's full of it, not hearing a word your saying.

Killua blinked once. Twice.

"You done?" he asked, tilting his head. You scoffed. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Yeah," he replied easily. "Something about me being hot-headed and you being secretly impressed."

You shoved his shoulder. "That is not what I said."

He laughed, leaning back on his hands. "You talk like you're giving a lecture. It's cute." "Cute?" your face scrunched, offended.

"Yeah. Like you're trying really hard to prove a point to someone who already knows you're right."

You paused. "You're irritating." "And yet," he said, leaning closer, "you let me into your room." some how, your body shifted closer to his through the banter, going from the side of the bed to directly in front of him. 

You scoffed, lifting your hand and flicking his forehead. "Don't get ahead of yourself." THUMP!

"Ow—" Killua frowned, more offended than hurt. "why are you so aggressive?" "You'll survive." He reached out without thinking, catching your wrist mid-retort. Instead of holding he tugged, "You can't just—" The rest of his sentence never landed. Your balance shifted as he tugged—too quick, too sudden—and the next thing you knew, the both of you were falling back onto the bed.

The mattress dipped hard beneath you. Killua landed first. You landed on top of him. 

Silence.(real gangsters move in silence)

His hands instinctively wrapping around your wrist. Your knee pressed into the side of his thigh. His chest rose beneath you—steady, warm, too..too much?

"Wow," you muttered and begin to laugh. Balance wasn't really a thing and you and Gon would always laugh when one another fell. So you laughed.

In the midst of you laughter, you didn't notice his stare. The stare. Eyes softening in a state of revery, consciousness taking in every giggle, the shape of your teeth when you smile. The way your cheeks rise, shoulders fall. damn it all. 

The sound of your own laughter filled the room unware of the stare as endless senerios with Gon played in your mind. Time he fell down the stairs, or the morning frizz in his hair. Your laugh was always contagious and noticeable so over time the eyes of others became background noise in you moment of living,

As you quiet down the awkward silence comes back. You are one this dudes chest. Oh my Lord and he just staring, Is how your mind is working.

You meet his gaze, starey blue eyes staring into yours. "what?" "you laugh like a fucking Windex bottle"

In a snap of a finger the bliss of an aftermath laugh turned into immediate anger. "At least I know how to laugh unlike you". you start to push yourself up, hands on each side of his head. Though his grip on your waist didn't waver, in fact it kept your lower body positioned on him, Straddling.

You froze.

The position hit you all at once. Your knees braced on either side of him. The warmth of his hands seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes. The way his chest rose beneath you, steady but a little faster than before.

"Killua," you warned, more breathless than you meant to be.

"I didn't pull you like that on purpose," he said quickly, eyes flicking anywhere but your face. "You lost your balance."

"Uh-huh," you replied. "And your hands just happened to land there?"

He finally looked back at you, ears tinted pink. "You're the one sitting on me."

You scoffed, shifting your weight just enough to make him inhale sharply.

"...My bad," you said innocently.

You're doing that on purpose," he accused.

"Doing what?"

"That," he muttered, tightening his hold again like he was afraid you'd fall. Or like he didn't actually want you to move.

your heart sounded like the drums of liberation.(op reference)The room suddenly feeling hotter then before. How the hell did this even happen? I mean should i..? your thoughts couldn't pick a route to go down. It was like anxiety took control for a moment, causing you to shift every now and then like a new thought meant "move I need to get comfortable on this side"

With each movement Killua's jaw tightened, thumbs unconsciously rubbing circles into your hips. "Are you gonna move" he quietly asks, cheeks tinted pink. "Are you?"

Neither of you answered. The question hung between you, heavier than it should've been.

You stopped shifting, finally still, suddenly aware of how close your face was to his. Close enough to see the way his pupils had blown wider. Close enough to feel his breath against your cheek.

"You're shaking," Killua murmured.

"I'm not," you said automatically.

His thumbs paused. "You are."

You swallowed. "Then let go."

He didn't.

"I will," he said, voice low. "If you want me to."

You met his gaze again, stubborn blue eyes locked onto yours, waiting. Not pushing. Just... there.

The pressa is getting worsa..