Bitter Attraction.. || Masky x Reader

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, fast and wild, as if it was trying to escape. She could feel the heat spreading up her neck, her face burning with embarrassment. Masky’s glare was heavy, pressing down on her like a weight.

The room felt too small, too tight, the air thick and suffocating, wrapping around her like a trap. She had been caught—by him, of all people. Panic twisted in her stomach, her body pulled in two directions: one telling her to run, the other, too ashamed to move. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to get away, but something deeper within her stayed, unwilling to move.

The feel of his fingers at the back of her neck made her freeze, his grip firm and cold, like a warning. He didn’t even have to speak to make her feel small. His breath was steady but there was something underneath it—anger, maybe. Y/N barely registered how his fingers brushed through her hair, a soft motion that felt almost too deliberate, sending an uninvited shiver down her spine.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” His voice was low and rough, each word laced with fury that he was barely holding back. Y/N’s breath caught, and her thoughts scrambled, her mind racing to find something to say, anything to get herself out of this situation.

“I… I was just…” she stammered, her voice shaking. She couldn’t find the words. Masky’s grip tightened ever so slightly, and she sucked in a sharp breath, not quite painful, but a warning that sent a pulse of heat through her body that she didn’t know how to ignore.

“Speak,” he growled, the command in his voice sending chills down her spine. It wasn’t a request. It was an order.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. “Seriously?” she scoffed, trying to cover the fear with sarcasm. “It’s not like I was reading your diary or something.”

The words hung in the air, and before she could even process what she said, Masky’s grip snapped tighter. Not enough to choke her, but enough to make her breath hitch. He was showing her who was in control.

“You think this is funny?” he murmured, his voice dark, almost softer than before, but the menacing tone made it worse.

His fingers twisted lightly in her hair, the action almost too intimate, too close, making her pulse quicken. Y/N could feel her heart beating rapidly, like it was trying to escape, and she knew Masky could feel it too.

“You have no idea what kind of trouble you’re in,” he continued, his voice lower than before, a dangerous whisper.

Then, just as quickly as it had all begun, he let go.

Y/N stumbled back, her hands instinctively reaching up to rub the spot where his hand had been. The tingling sensation lingered, and the absence of his touch felt worse than when he had been holding her. She felt exposed, her body still buzzing from the close contact.

Masky sat in his chair, crossing his arms, his cold gaze never leaving her. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being studied, dissected under his silent stare. She cursed herself for letting her curiosity get the better of her. But there was something else—something that kept pulling her back to him. She couldn’t understand it.

Her heart was still racing, thumping hard in her chest, but she glared at him, trying to push her unease aside. “You’re insane,” she spat, her voice sharper than she intended.

“Funny,” he muttered, a bitter edge in his voice. “I’m not the one sneaking around like a brat who doesn’t know when to stop.”

The insult stung harder than she thought it would. She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, the door creaked open.